Caelya pursed her lips and gave a slight nod, turning away from Ingrid. Kelvhan led the way as they squeezed through the crowd.
You’d think a king’s guard and a princess could command more space. Ingrid pursed her lips. It wasn’t the outing she thought it would be. She’d grown hot and irritable while crowded between bodies with no breeze.
A merchant stopped Kelvhan and started a conversation. While she and Caelya waited, the crowd thinned out for a moment. Ingrid noticed a path just across the road. It looked like a cart path between buildings that was more than likely used for supplies.
Ingrid peeked at Caelya and Kelvhan. Neither paid attention to her.
I can't waste this opportunity.
Another quick glance, then she darted into the street, and the crowd absorbed her. Wiggling her way through unnoticed, she made it to the other side of the road. When she reached the cart path, she sprinted as hard as her legs would move.
She passed the first row of market booths and made it to a section of simple sheds used for storage. Darting between two of them, she stopped to listen. No footsteps or rattling armour followed her. A peek around the corner proved the path was empty. It had been easier than she thought.
She jogged away, staying between the buildings. Her victory was short lived because only three steps later, rough hands clamped over her mouth and around her waist.
"What do we have here?" a low, male voice rumbled against Ingrid’s back.
17
Jorg
Jorg kept his fists up, wary of the dwarf standing behind Plintze’s shoulder.
“We should keep going. There is a small alcove up ahead where we can hide,” the newcomer offered.
The two dwarves hurried away, with Jorg left to follow reluctantly. Bremen and Selby were only a half-step behind. When they reached the nook, they ducked in and crouched down on their heels. Voices rumbled through the tunnels, but no one ran as far as where they hid—yet. It was only a matter of time before the bodies of the guards were discovered. In the silence that followed, they held their breath. Exhaling, Selby plopped down onto the ground.
“We should give it longer,” the new dwarf scolded.
Jorg stared in the voice’s direction, the darkness shielding him from having a clear view of the speaker. It was an oddly familiar sound.
“I think we are safe for now, Mimum,” Plintze said.
“‘Safe’ is not how I would describe it,” Selby answered. “We still have to get through these tunnels without getting caught. I can’t even see across this alcove.”
“I know where we are. You don’t need to worry,” Plintze said.
What is happening? He almost sounded . . . happy. “Are you all right? Did they hit you with one of those sticks they used on Bremen and me?”
“Ach, no. They’d never use a goblin breaker on another dwarf. We probably should have taken one of those with us though. Do you think we should go back for one, Mimum?”
“It’s too risky now. You’ll have to make do,” Mimum said.
“Plintze, you need to introduce us to your friend before we take advice from someone who just tried to sell Jorg and me to a giant,” Bremen whispered. Jorg heard his feet crunch against the dirt, ready to lunge and fight if necessary.
“This is my mother, Lynheid,” Plintze said.
“Were you waiting in the tunnels for us?” Selby asked.
“No, I was there in the room, near you. Plintzelgermir let me know to protect you so I had shifted closer to you before they drug the others away.”
“You had to notice her. She was the most beautiful female in the chamber,” Plintze said with complete sincerity and oblivion toward Selby.
“Oh, yes . . . that’s who you were.” Selby had a hint of amusement in her voice, and Bremen made a little noise that sounded distinctly like a muffled chuckle.
Even Jorg let a grin twitch at his lips. He hadn’t observed any female looking dwarfs, not that he was searching for them, but it did seem as though he’d have noticed.
“Why have you come home now, my son? It is such a time of upheaval with the giants and the prince. You shouldn’t have brought humans down here,” Lynheid said.
“What prince?” Jorg asked before Plintze had a chance to answer.
“The elven prince, Jarrick. Our council has been negotiating a deal to become the sole weapons provider for Midgard when the wards drop. The giants are eager to begin amassing large quantities as soon as the deal is sealed.” Lynheid then whispered something to Plintze, in a language Jorg didn’t understand.
“Jorg has always lived on Midgard, Mimum. He is safe,” Plintze answered.
Safe . . . Right. As long as she doesn’t know who my father is.
“When do they expect the wards to fall?” Bremen asked.
“The talk is soon, but no one knows for sure. There are rumors, too. Might any of you know of those?”
Jorg didn’t believe that Plintze’s mother would sell them out like any of the other dwarves surely would but giving her any information would be a risk. He said nothing and waited to see how Plintze would handle it. Please don’t risk Ingrid, friend.
“In Midgard, there isn’t much talk of the other realms. Some humans don’t even believe they exist. I’m afraid we don’t have any information,” Plintze said and shifted on his feet.
“These humans are different? You haven’t answered me about why any of you are here.”
No one spoke for several heartbeats. “I’m only half-elf, and I’ve recently learned who my true mother is. She’s in Alfheim, and I need to find her,” Jorg said. He figured since none of it was a lie—technically—it would work as a good reason.
“You aren’t expecting to get to Alfheim from here? Those tunnels haven’t been used for travel in centuries. They aren’t safe. You’ll have to go back and find another way.”
“We don’t have time to find another way, Mimum. We must use the tunnels.”
“Plintzelgermir, you have been away far too long if you don’t remember the dangers. Nothing survives through the goblins. I could not bear to know you were lost. It is hard enough for me to know you are living in such a harsh, exposed realm. Won’t you stay? Let your friends go back to their home and find another path. Stay with me where you’ll be safe.”
“I couldn’t do that. Besides, you know I’m different now. I’d never be accepted.”
“That’s not true! I’ve never told anyone how you have the ability to walk in the sun. They don’t know. Don’t you want to come home? No one carves the filigree molds like you. Your skills will be valued now more than ever.”
In the time they’d sat in the alcove, Jorg’s eyesight had adjusted to the darkness. He could see Lynheid as she stroked Plintze’s cheek when she spoke. He wanted to force the dwarf to stay behind and not abandon his mother, but he knew better than to interfere. Plintze’s situation was not the same as his with Galwain. Their separation was for different reasons and not Jorg’s to judge.
He could also see how Selby had melted into Bremen’s side. How his brother held her close to him. The bead hadn’t indicated they’d traveled any closer to Ingrid. The wasted time they spent talking in the dark only kept her from him. They needed to be on their way.
“Mimum, I can’t stay. I have my own reasons for finding Ing—Jorg’s mother. I miss you every day, but I must go. And we must risk the goblins. There is no faster way into Alfheim.”
“You are such a brave boy. The bravest of all dwarves. Do not move from this spot until I return.” With surprising speed Lynheid darted away into the tunnels, leaving the rest of them stunned.
“Where did she go,” Selby whispered, and Bremen chuckled. Selby would never master the art of a quiet voice.
“I don’t know, but Plintze, if you know how to get us to the correct tunnel, we need to go,” Jorg said. Thinking of Ingrid had made him too antsy to sit still and hide any longer.
Footsteps in the tunnels made them all shift back and wait, hoping it was
Lynheid, but prepared to fight if it wasn’t. Uneasiness spiked through Jorg. Would Lynheid turn them in to keep her son from leaving? To keep him from the goblins?
When she arrived again, alone, Jorg relaxed and chided himself for his thoughts. In her hand was a stick the length of a club but the circumference of a spear. One end had a silver tip, and there was a slight hum in the surrounding air.
“If you have to go, take this with you. I could only find one, so you’ll have to make it count.”
“What is that?” Jorg asked.
“It’s a goblin breaker. One of the weapons they used on you in the tunnel. It can render a goblin immobile and spastic.”
“Yeah, we’re familiar with that part,” Bremen said.
Plintze took the dangerous club and handed it to Bremen. Jorg bristled, but Bremen was closest.
“Thank you, Mimum. I have something for you, too.” Plintze pulled off his pack and reached into it. He withdrew what looked like a wooden box with carvings all around it. His mother gasped when she saw it.
“You still have it. And you carried it all this way?” Lynheid’s voice hitched as she reached for the box.
“I’d hoped I would see you. I want you to have it back—if it won’t get you into trouble. No one can know you helped us in the tunnels,” Plintze said in a quiet tone. He sounded like a small child confessing to his misdeeds.
“Plintzelgermir, I will display it proudly and challenge anyone to take it away from me. My son is the best woodcarver in all Svartalfheim, and it’s time everyone remembers that.” She took the box away from Plintze and held it close to her heart with one hand while she drew him in for a hug with the other. He threw his arms around her.
Jorg wondered if they should all leave to give them a moment. Before he could suggest it, Lynheid pushed herself away from Plintze. “Go now. There’s no more time. The council will send out scouts when you don’t arrive at the Jötunheim entrance.”
Selby and Bremen hurried to rise to their feet as fast as Jorg. The group shuffled out into the tunnels, thanking Lynheid for her help. They moved a few steps away as Plintze said goodbye one more time to his mother.
“This way then, and make sure you keep up,” Plintze said as he squeezed by them. They all hurried after him, not wasting any more than a quick glance to acknowledge that Lynheid had rushed off the other way.
“No problem, Plintzelgermir,” Selby said.
A growled “Humph” returned from the darkness.
Speeding through the darkness in a hunched position had Jorg’s legs burning. It had to be affecting the others, too, but no one complained. Bremen still carried the goblin breaker, but Jorg didn’t want to ask for it and sound afraid.
He also didn’t like that Plintze had given it to his brother. Not long after they’d left Lynheid, he’d seen Bremen squeeze Plintze’s shoulder, too. It shouldn’t affect him that a friendship had grown, but it did. He felt more alone than ever.
Just then, Jorg’s chest hitched and rattled as if his heart had fluttered in a spontaneous pattern. He reached up to rub at the feeling only to realize the bead had started to hum. When he pressed his hand against it, the heat it produced seared into his chest. It was hot enough that he wanted to yell out, but he didn’t dare. The bead worked! This was the right direction, and he was closer to Ingrid. In the midst of his joy, a sound broke through the air and grabbed his attention.
An odd clicking noise in the distance made Jorg reach out and tap Plintze’s shoulder. He came to a halt and turned.
“What’s that noise?” Jorg whispered.
“We’re close then,” Plintze mumbled, understanding what Jorg’s keen hearing had detected. “That would be the creatures warning the goblins that we’re here. If you heard them, then they heard us.” Plintze shuddered. “A Myrmex is like a cross between a giant spider and an ant. Avoid the stinger on the point of their hind end and you’ll be fine. It’ll hurt if they bite you, but the stinger has the venom. Once released, it signals the others, and they swarm to the spot.”
“Good to know,” Bremen said and pulled Selby close. Even in the darkness, Jorg could tell that her face had drained of color.
The bead hummed stronger against Jorg’s chest. “Ingrid is in Alfheim, and there’s a bunch of dead myrmex and goblins in my way.” He growled and jogged forward. By the crunch of the path behind him, the others followed.
18
Ingrid
Another elf stepped in front of Ingrid. His lip curled in a sinister grin, exposing the jagged point of a broken tooth. "It's not safe for you to run around alone." He closed his eyes and sniffed close to Ingrid’s face. “Especially for a human.”
Ingrid glared over the hand that covered her mouth. It stunk like straw and dung. The smell brought memories of cleaning sheep pens.
Whoever these men were, they were not the elegant elves she'd been exposed to so far. The one in front of her wore a dirty tunic over patched trousers. One toe poked through a hole in his shoe. Stringy, unwashed hair fell around pointed ears.
"Could it be the human we've heard about? Prince Jarrick's little pet?” the man in front of her asked.
The body behind her shook with a laugh. Apparently, he found the statement funny.
While Ingrid held the elves’ stare, she slowly moved her foot between her captor’s legs. It was a move she knew well, one she’d used on Hagen before when they wrestled. If she hooked her toes just right, behind his heel, she could knock him off balance and get away.
“You're gonna fetch a nice price,” the one behind her hissed in her ear.
Ingrid didn't know any elves were this vile. Jarrick and Urkon were evil but sophisticated. What rock these two crawled out from under, she had no idea.
With her foot in place, Ingrid kept her eyes focused on the elf in front of her, keeping his attention. When she was certain his focus wasn’t going anywhere, she pulled. The elf behind her grunted as he stumbled backward.
Only, instead of falling to the ground as she planned, he fell against the wall of a shed and kept a tight grip on her as he did.
The front elf roared with laughter. “She almost got you.”
The elf behind righted himself and growled. "That's enough of that."
“Let's go. They'll be missing her soon,” the main talker said. She guessed he was the leader of the two imbeciles.
The elf holding Ingrid captive picked her up so her feet dangled as he held her tight to his chest. His grimy hand continued to cover her mouth. She kicked and punched, trying to connect anywhere. When her heel finally slammed against the elf’s knee, he cursed and dropped her onto the ground.
"We need to tie her up."
The leader stopped to face them. “She’s got more fight than I expected,” he said. “Stand over by that barrel in the shadows. I'll find some rope.”
Alone and covered in darkness, the elf's breath became ragged. He sniffed Ingrid's hair, and fear skittered down her spine. The hand on her mouth tightened as the other one roamed. Keeping her pressed against himself, the elf explored her body.
Ingrid tried to scream, the sound muffled behind his disgusting hand. She kicked at him, jammed her elbows as hard as she could, but it made no difference. If anything, it made it worse because he seemed to enjoy her spirit.
Fear mixed with anger and manifested in tears that slid down her cheeks. The leader showed up again, just as the elf behind her started yanking up her skirt.
“That's a fine idea, Quarn, but if we’re going to get the highest ransom, we need to keep her whole."
Her captor growled but didn't lighten his grip. Ingrid's breath hitched as she fought to control her shaking. Finally, Quarn relaxed his hold but still held her mouth closed.
"You're welcome," the leader said with a sneer. "And now, you're going to stand there like a good little girl and let us tie you up. You make any sounds—I’ll let Quarn take you into the shed. You understand?”
Ingrid nodded the best that she could. The leader flicked a gl
ance to Quarn, and he let her go. Ingrid stood on her own though her legs threatened to collapse. She couldn't overpower them, and she couldn't escape. They said they wanted to ransom her. Jarrick would pay a lot to get her back. She'd rather deal with his kind of evil than what those two wanted.
"Did you bring a gag, Beril?”
"You can do the honors.” Beril tossed a strip of fabric that Quarn caught in the air. He slipped the fabric between Ingrid’s teeth, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip as he did it. Bile rose in Ingrid's throat that she choked down.
"Here, take another one for a blindfold,” Beril said. Quarn tied the second piece tight around Ingrid's eyes.
Beril finished tying her hands and had gone to work on a hobble for her feet when Ingrid heard a commotion. Though she couldn’t see who, one of them tossed her against the wall of the shed, and she fell, wedged next to the barrel. Growls and the clash of weapons rang into her ears. Hands took hold of her arms, jerking her to her feet. Ingrid fought, twisting and kicking as best she could until a voice penetrated her ears.
"Ingrid! Ingrid," Caelya's voice softened as Ingrid stopped fighting. "You're safe now."
Caelya untied the blindfold, and Ingrid blinked to clear her blurry vision. When the elf princess removed the gag from Ingrid’s mouth, she threw herself against Caelya and sobbed.
Ingrid remembered the journey back to her room with surprising clarity. Caelya had carried her. She’d wrapped her up like a small child and hurried through the marketplace to the palace.
At first, Kelvhan had tried to help her, and although he’d been kind and gentle, the thought of any male’s touch had made her lash out and scream.
Ingrid sat staring at the cold fireplace. She shivered though the room was warm.
How could I have been so stupid? Pay attention to your surroundings. How many times have I heard that?
Realm of Fate Page 10
