Thelonius’ attention was diverted to an elf down the table who’d asked a question, but, Jarrick continued to stare at Ingrid. Another pulse, deep within her middle, flashed through her. The air soon felt as though it were closing in and squeezing Ingrid. She glanced at Caelya who spoke quietly to one of the fauns. Pain gripped Ingrid’s chest, and her breath caught.
She met Jarrick’s gaze, and a slight curl formed on his lips. Ingrid pressed her hand against her chest. She didn’t want to draw attention or give in to whatever was happening. Could she stop herself from being dragged into another vision?
As hard as she tried to push it away, the pain grew worse. Then she slammed her eyes closed as a voice rumbled through her mind.
In the same way it happened in the courtyard, Jarrick’s voice pounded against her temples. The ache that had started from Urkon grew until she nearly collapsed from the pressure. With measured breaths and sheer will, she managed to lower her mental barriers just enough that she could hear Jarrick without so much force.
“You don't understand what's going on, Ingrid," Jarrick said into her mind.
"What's there to understand? You have Galwain on a chain, at Montibeo, where you practice dark magic. It seems pretty obvious to me."
The ability to speak to Jarrick in her mind gave Ingrid pause. She'd never been able to do that with Jorg. It squeezed her heart, but she couldn't let herself be distracted.
"Galwain is my wife, and she is not under duress. Urkon wants you to believe that so he can control you."
"And you don't?"
"I need you for the purposes I've explained to you. Urkon needs you for his. You don't know the dangers of what he asks."
Ingrid looked around at the table. Nobody else seemed to notice their internal conversation. They went about their business as if nothing was happening between her and the dark elf. How was that possible? The new world of being able to speak into someone's mind—having a conversation that no one else knew about right in the middle of a crowded dinner table—made Ingrid nervous.
"So, what is it he wants from me?"
"He needs the thread Freya stole, the one that binds you to the spell."
"I can’t give that to him. Can I?”
"It's woven within the essence of your being. In order to retrieve it, he must sacrifice you at the base of the Yggdrasil tree. When you die it will release."
Ingrid swallowed hard. She looked in her glass, recently filled by a silent faun, but she dared not take another drink. Her throat was dry, her mind swirling. She’d known Urkon wanted her dead. Dúngarr had told her that, but what did the thread give him?
"What will that cause?” Even in her mind, her voice sounded small.
"Urkon's powers are bound to the spell. Freya managed to ensnare him to ensure that she possessed the power of the seiðr alone. If that thread remains, even though the spell falls, Urkon will stay bound. The only way his power can be restored is to destroy the thread and reverse the spell completely. Then he would once again be the most powerful seiðr magic user in all the realms."
"So, you want me to let the spell fall but leave my essence in place so that Urkon stays bound. Why?" It made no sense. They were working together. Urkon was the dark arts master, Jarrick's mentor. Why would he tell her that information?
Then it hit her like lightning. Jarrick didn't need a mentor. Jarrick needed to rule. If Urkon's powers were released, he could control Jarrick as much as anyone else.
Ingrid was no more than a mouse caught between two cats. That never worked well for the mouse.
"What if I don't help either of you? What if I bind the spell and keep the protections around Midgard safe? Neither of you will win. Asgard will stay in control, there will be no war between the gods, and humanity will stay safe. Like the Norns fated."
"You're no longer in a position to negotiate. You are a means to an end. That spell will fall. Whether you want any say in how that happens is your only choice at this point."
They stared at each other across the table, neither saying anything, neither backing down. Ingrid pushed her barriers closed, the pain secondary to the information he’d shared. If she helped Jarrick, he would defeat Urkon. If not, she was dead. Perhaps it was a time to choose her battles. If she sided with Jarrick, she would at least have more time to stop the change in power.
Her father had saved the village despite Jarrick’s efforts. He’d gotten everyone out because he didn't sit around and wait. It was time for Ingrid to do the same. She had to get Galwain away from Jarrick, but stopping Urkon had to come first. He’d killed her sister as a test.
Rage welled up inside her. She’d do whatever it took to stop Urkon—even if that meant joining Jarrick.
14
Jorg
Bars dug into Jorg’s back, and he tried to find a more comfortable position. They’d been herded through the tunnels, drawing a growing crowd while the ceilings closed in lower and lower.
Everyone except Plintze had to hunch over to keep from hitting their heads. The dwarves had knocked Bremen and Jorg to their knees and dragged them into a cage. While Selby had screamed as they hauled her through the crowd. The clink of an iron door slammed shut had confirmed she had her own cage across the room. Plintze remained free but under guard while everyone waited for the council members to arrive. The room had a large central fire, and it was stifling hot when they’d entered. With so many bodies pressed inside, wanting a glimpse of the captives, the air grew thicker.
Loud chatter buzzed, adding to the dizzying experience as everyone vied for position to see the humans. An elf was rare enough, but no human had ever been in the tunnels. The excitement level crushed against Jorg.
Who knew I could be happy to be behind bars? At least it keeps them back.
The idea of having so many bodies pressed close to him or worse, clawing at him, made Jorg claustrophobic. He yanked at his tunic and couldn’t stop twitching his foot. The sulfur-like smell of the forges burned his throat and seared a headache into his brain far worse than he had from Ingrid’s missing voice.
Bremen squirmed, no doubt just as uncomfortable. “We need to get out of here before we can’t breathe anymore,” he whispered. “Have any ideas?”
He’d tried to come up with a plan since he’d first felt the spear tip in his abdomen. Now with Selby across the room and Plintze under guard, the options were slim. “We can’t do anything behind these bars. They’re too well-crafted to break. Maybe when the council comes, we can persuade them to let us go.”
Neither man harbored any belief in the sentiment, nor could they offer any other suggestion. Plintze would not look in their direction, so they had to wait.
A commotion by Selby’s cage drew their attention, and Bremen popped to his feet. Crouched because of the small space, he grabbed the bars and tried to shake them. “Leave her alone!”
Raucous laughter broke out at his pleas. Selby had backed herself as far away as she could, but the dwarves grew emboldened. They reached through the bars to touch her arms or hair.
Even though their weapons were stripped, Jorg knew Selby was as good with her fists as she was with a blade. Bremen knew it, too, but Jorg couldn’t fault his brother for his anger.
While Bremen tried to grab a dwarf who taunted him, the room rippled into silence. Bodies shuffled back from the central fire, allowing open space for three dwarves who filed in to face Plintze.
No one stood behind them, and the fire cast their shadows on the wall as if they were giants.
“Plintzelgermir, it has been many a year since you remembered your homeland. We’re told you brought us an offering to pay the debt of your absence?”
The dwarf in the middle was the tallest of the three though the difference between them was only about a hand. None of them would pass Jorg’s waist if he could stand to his full height. They all had long dark beards trailing to their knees that were given a fiery tint by the glow of the flame. Their sleeveless tunics highlighted the impressively honed muscles o
f their arms. Blackened soot glistened with moisture in the oppressive heat and added to their threatening appearance.
“I’ve brought you nothing, Eitri. I have negotiated safe passage through our tunnels for these travelers, and this detainment goes against the merchant code. I demand free passage at once.”
Jorg focused on the fierce council as they listened to Plintze’s bluff.
“I see. However, another matter nullifies your claim. You see, the merchant code is enforceable only if there has been full payment, and if a more profitable deal is not presented. You know the rules, or has all that sunlight damaged your memory?”
“I have your portion in my pouch. We were on our way to pay when these fools attacked and wouldn’t listen to reason.”
“Well, that’s another matter then. Let’s see the payment.”
Something wasn’t right. The tone in the leader’s voice held a hint of amusement, and the other two were outright smiling. Jorg stared at Plintze, trying to figure out his plan.
“He shouldn’t give up any payment,” Bremen whispered. “Not until we’re free.”
Jorg agreed. He cleared his throat, hoping to convey the message discreetly to Plintze.
“I have the payment,” Selby called out. “It’s in my pouch not with Plintze. That was a lie to protect me.”
“Selby! What are you doing?” Bremen yelled and shoved himself against the front bars as close to her as he could get.
“Is that so?” Eitri laughed, and most of the room joined him. After a couple of minutes, he held up his hand for silence. “You gave your payment to a woman to hold?”
“It would be the last place any dwarf would think to look. It made good business sense.” Plintze shoved the guards in front of him aside, stepping closer to the council. “I will not allow her to give it to you until we are on our way.”
The dwarf on the leader’s right scoffed. “Why would we do that? You don’t pay attention very well.”
“Now, now, Nabbi, let’s not give Plintze a hard time. He looks as though he’s grown soft while he’s been away. Maybe his brain has gone as pudgy as his body?”
Another round of laughter ricocheted off the walls. Even the fire surged, making the shadows on the wall dance like fiends.
Plintze stood his ground and glared at the council. He must have come to the same conclusion as Jorg—they weren’t going to negotiate their way out of this.
“It doesn’t matter if the woman holds your payment or not. We’ll find it later.”
Bremen growled and grabbed the bars harder. Jorg scooted forward and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. They needed to listen and figure out the dwarves’ demands.
“You see, a more profitable arrangement has already been made.”
“Negotiations have just begun. What is this offer? I will beat it,” Plintze said.
Eitri smiled a sinister, knowing smile. “While granting humans passage through our realm may be forgivable, bringing the other one is treasonous. Elves have been our enemy since they declared their craftsmanship equal to ours. You’d remember that if you’d bothered to remain loyal to your own. At least your love for the pathetic humans has created an opportunity we could not pass up.”
“You know nothing. Listen to me!” Plintze shouted. Jorg itched to stand next to his friend and battle the whole room if necessary.
“Silence him.” Eitri gestured to one of the guards who grabbed Plintze and held his arms behind his back while another placed a gag in his mouth.
All three of the council members turned toward the wall and stared at it. Bremen and Jorg glanced quickly at each other. The air began to shimmer, and the shape of a large oval appeared on the flickering stone.
“It’s a portal,” Jorg said between his teeth.
After only a few heartbeats, the oval cleared, and a large face appeared on the wall. A man with chiseled cheekbones, a cleft chin, and perfectly styled black hair stared into the cavern. Behind him, the sky was blinding and bright as snow swirled in circling gusts. The man had a fur-rimmed tunic but didn’t look as though he cared about the wintery conditions around him.
“I think that’s a Jötun,” Jorg said.
“I thought giants would be ugly, and . . . dumb-looking,” Bremen mumbled back.
Jorg caught him glancing toward Selby, no doubt wanting to see her reaction to the handsome figure looming over the room.
“How kind of you to take the time to speak with us directly, Beolach,” Eitri said. “As you have predicted, the wards around Midgard are falling. We offer you first opportunity to bid on the grand prize of two apprehended humans.”
“Your kindness is appreciated, Eitri. A vulnerable Midgard is valuable information indeed. I will pay for that and consider the humans a bonus. Though, one doesn’t look human.” Beolach stared at Jorg, his brow pinched.
“That’s true—one is an elf, though he is not for sale. We are going to ransom him to Alfheim, but you are welcome to make a bid if you’d like.”
“As I said, the information is what I value. However, the elf might prove worthy in another negotiation. Where is the other human?”
The council turned and growled at the crowd. They waved their hands to make a path exposing Selby.
“Ah, have the two males brought to the Jötun entrance. I will have my emissaries ready with whatever payment you require as the highest bid. The female is of no use to me.”
“Your generosity is most appreciated. Thank you and know that we will cooperate with the giant realm in whatever you may need when Midgard falls.”
“I’m counting on that, Eitri.” The portal blinked closed, and darkness descended on the room again, more oppressive than before.
“Plintze, it is your lucky day. A profitable deal has put me in a fine mood. I will allow you to go free. The treasure you have brought us will be a fine down payment on the debt you owe for betraying your homeland.” Eitri then turned away from Plintze. “Guards, take the female to the kitchens and have her prepared for service. Deliver the others to the giants’ border immediately.”
Chaos erupted when Plintze charged to the front of Selby’s cage. Bremen roared and grabbed a dwarf who’d moved too close to the bars. Jorg followed his lead, and they both tried to wrestle away weapons. Suddenly, a shooting pain hit Jorg in the shoulder, and he fell to the ground. His entire body twitched uncontrollably.
As he tried to fight off the sensation, he saw Bremen in the same condition on the ground next to him.
The cage bars rattled, and several dwarves entered. They drug them by their arms out of the room and into the tunnels. Another shock wave coursed through Jorg before he could regain his senses. In the back of his mind, he heard Selby shrieking as she fought, but the sounds were getting farther away as he scraped along in the dark.
A commotion drew the guards’ attention, and they dropped Jorg, his head hitting a hard stone as he came to a stop. The effects of the last shock had waned, and his senses returned.
Whatever, or whoever, created the distraction behind them, gave enough time for Jorg’s head to clear. He rolled his head to the side and met Bremen’s gaze. His brother gave the slightest of nods. A tight set to his mouth indicated he, too, had regained some strength. Before their guards could realize they were coherent, both men jumped to their feet and attacked.
They dispatched the guards quickly, but heard more footsteps hurrying in their direction. Crouched in a ready position under the low ceiling, they stood shoulder to shoulder in the tight quarters.
Three bodies rushed around the corner, and they tensed. Jorg dug his toes into the dirt and leaned forward, but then pulled back. Even with the darkness, he recognized Plintze. Another dwarf skidded to a stop with him as Selby threw herself into Bremen.
15
Ingrid
Ingrid sat through the remainder of dinner in numbed silence. Simple inconsequential chatter filtered into her awareness, but she engaged in none of it.
With Urkon on her right and Jarrick ac
ross from her, she found it hard to breathe as she contemplated her escape from both power-hungry men. She couldn’t allow herself to be used as a game piece on a tafl board.
If she stayed close to Jarrick, she might be able to rescue Galwain, but he’d killed his own son to ensure he could use Ingrid. After he held all the power, why would he allow her to live any more than Urkon?
Urkon had killed her sister just to test her abilities. The few bites of food Ingrid managed to swallow churned in her stomach.
No matter how she spun it, or who ended up in control, Midgard would fall. It seemed that even if she did as Eir had trained her to do, she’d still end up helping with the destruction.
Another option crept into her thoughts. The more she considered it, the more she realized it might be the only way she could save herself—or help anyone else. She had to end them first. A huffed laugh escaped under her breath. It had only been a few months ago that she was forbidden to train as a shieldmaiden. Now she was contemplating ways to destroy two of the most powerful beings in all the realms.
“You’ve been so stoic, Ingrid. I was concerned. Have you enjoyed your evening after all?” Thelonius asked. Silence crowded into the room. It seemed as though all conversation halted while everyone waited for her answer.
Ingrid’s heart hammered against her chest, and warmth bloomed over her cheeks. “Your hospitality has been lovely, and the conversation enlightening.” She nodded to the king in deference, trying her best to remember her mother’s behavior during tense dinners with so-called allies. She’d always held herself with grace and dignity, yet made sure that her dagger was as accessible as her smile.
I need a dagger.
The king smiled, but his stare burrowed into Ingrid. She sat taller and softened her features. The war raging through her insides was kept contained within a silk wrapper.
“Vimala is not easily impressed, yet she liked you. She could feel your strength. Now that we’ve met, I agree with her.” Thelonius held Ingrid’s gaze without wavering as he seemed to contemplate his next words. “Remember who you are. Others don’t always truly see us, but it’s far worse if we don’t see ourselves.”
Realm of Fate Page 8
