Dark Magic (55 page)

He did as commanded, lifting his battleaxe high. Everyone sighed in relief to see it was hale and whole. Everyone save Gudrin, that was.

“The other one,” she said.

Reluctantly, he lifted his other arm from where it had been inside his cloak. This one looked as if he had dipped it into a barrel of axel grease. It dribbled and ran with strange, dark liquids.

“Hold it out,” ordered Gudrin. “The rest of you, stand clear.”

The Warriors needed no fresh urging this time. They scrambled back in a wide circle. Farther back still stood the few farmers who had not run home by this time.

“You have done only as I’ve asked, Warrior,” she said. “I would know your name.”

“Rorvik, my Queen!” he shouted. It did her heart good to hear no quaver of fear in his voice.

Gudrin lifted her gloved arm and directed it toward Rorvik. Her body ran with flames now.

“This is no punishment. This is done for the good of all the Kindred, not due to some fault of yours, Rorvik.”

“I know, great lady. Now, get on with it!”

Gudrin nodded. She aimed and released an intensely bright finger of flame. It took his arm off at the elbow. After Rorvik had staggered away, she stepped forward and released a fresh gush of cleansing flame, burning the infected arm down to ash.

“Rorvik,” she called.

He came to her, his armor still smoldering.

“You were the first to draw an axe against a new foe. You sensed an enemy before any other of this company. Therefore, you are the new captain of this company.”

Rorvik’s teeth were gritted so tightly he could not answer her, but he nodded in acknowledgement.

Gudrin approached the hole again, and it gushed flames up into her face. She paid no heed, as heat could not affect her while she bore the Jewel Pyros. She gazed down into the bubbling, oily substance. Her flames were devouring it, but only slowly. She shook her head and glanced to her side, where Rorvik stood a few paces back.

“Away!” she said, waving him back. “No need to burn off your beard as well. You can’t protect me from this substance, in any regard.”

“What is this vile stuff, my Queen?”

Gudrin turned back to the hole and gazed into the flaming, smoking mass. She coughed, lamenting that while the Orange Jewel made her immune to heat, it did not keep smoke from choking her. She could swim in lava, but still drown if it entered her lungs.

She thought about the substance. “It could be something left over from the work of the Red Jewel. Blood magic left to rot in the soil. But I think it is more than that. I think it is a hybrid. A twisting of Blood magic and—something else.”

“What else?”

Gudrin shook her head. “I’m not sure. But I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”

Chapter Ten

Brand’s Folly

It was in the evening, when Brand had grown weary of working and planning, that Puck arrived at the construction encampment. The hammers had finally stopped banging, and the Kindred workers had moved on to their tents, stone mugs of ale and sizzling meats cooked over open fires. The entire camp quieted, but then slowly grew louder again as Kindred voices rose in drunken song. Brand knew the routine well. They would sing and carouse until late. A few fights would break out, a few teeth would be lost. At some point, around midnight, they would slump down and slumber until dawn, when they foremen would kick them awake and send them back to their hammers, carts and ropes.

Puck walked into Brand’s tent unannounced. The axe on Brand’s back twitched as he approached, but Brand ignored its paranoid warnings. He smiled at the elf, who he counted as one of his few real friends among the Fae. Like Tomkin, this member of the Shining Folk had helped him materially. He had slain the vile Piskin, and for that Brand would always welcome him. That he had once preyed upon Haven women with his pipes was forgotten—at least as long as he stayed happily married to Mari.

“Puck!” Brand cried out. “What a pleasant surprise, man! Come here and clasp arms!”

Puck came forward and met Brand. A wintery smile played over his lips, but Brand was not offended. Puck was not like many Fae who danced and cavorted like drunken children. He was a more serious sort, and only the fairest maidens had ever seen him in a boisterous mood.

“Well met, Lord Rabing,” said the elf.

“Tell me, what happy circumstance brings you here? Do you perhaps want to watch the rebuilding of my folk’s glory days firsthand?”

Again, the wintry smile played. “You have certainly managed an amazing feat. I had forgotten how quickly the younger races can build things. The walls have sprouted from the ground, from my perspective.”

Brand nodded. “It has much to do with the energetic hands of the Kindred, of course. They have the craft we’ve lost. And they have hands eager for my gold!”

“A remarkable achievement. But I’m afraid my visit is not simply to marvel at your walls, milord.”

Brand sighed. “I’d feared not. What word to you have from your father, Oberon?”

“None. I come to you first, as this matter involves the Haven.”

“Speak then!”

Puck related his tale, including Trev’s meeting with the dead-thing in the Haven Woods. Brand became increasingly concerned as the story went on.

“Is your son all right?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Quick-witted for a lad so young.”

“As his father, I wanted to swell with pride,” Puck said. “But I think it was more luck than wit.”

Brand shook his head. “No, it was more than luck. You have a special boy there, Puck. I’ve been in his shoes when I was younger, meeting and facing down something from beyond my experience. Not every child can do it. I bet it has something to do with Kaavi’s tutoring.”

“I thank you for your kind words. Pardon me if I must ask: Kaavi has spoken to you of my son?”

Brand shot him a look. “She’s here now, in fact. In the camp, I mean. I thought you knew.”

Puck frowned. “I did not. I had quite forgotten about her, to tell you the truth. I was focused on my immediate family, and the urgent need to warn you.”

“Do you think it was truly Arawn—the King of the Dead?”

“The description matches what I know of that creature. The use of the Black Jewel cinches it. No other has ever wielded it, to the best knowledge of the elves.”

Brand paced the tent. He thought hard, and Puck quietly let him do so. He stopped pacing after a time and offered Puck a cup of wine to share with him. The other accepted and Brand gulped his, while Puck performed only careful sips.

“I suppose,” Brand said, looking at him carefully. “I suppose you want to head to the Twilight Lands and visit with your father. To tell him the news.”

“It is not urgent, as no threat seems to be headed that way. Eventually, that will be my next destination, however.”

“Your job is to keep an eye on us for your father, isn’t it?” Brand asked him suddenly.

Puck stared for a moment before answering. He finally shrugged, as if coming to a decision. “My loyalties are still with my own father and lord,” he murmured. “I offer no offense, however.”

Brand nodded. “Naturally not. If I send my son Cadmon to live among the elves someday, I shall expect reports from him as well.”

Both laughed quietly after that, and Brand poured them each a fresh cup of wine.

“Listen,” said Brand, gesturing with his cup, which sloshed purple droplets upon his papers. He paid no heed. “I think we understand one another. And I think we can make use of one another.”

“How so?”

“I propose you and I go down into the depths beneath this land and see what is what down there. There are reports of dead-things, and the Kindred plan to plug the exits soon. But if the Dead really are on the move, then I would bet there is clear evidence below our feet right now. Rather than vague rumors relayed from Trev, you might be able to take home some hard information.”

Puck smiled openly now for the first time since he’d arrived. “You seek to write my report for me?”

“At least I’ll give you something to put in it.”

“Why me?”

“First of all, you are a good man with a blade. I’ve seen the evidence of that. And you will not quiver in your boots when you meet unnatural things. I could take down a company of troops, and we might fare well, but I know labyrinths and often in such places an army is more of a hindrance than a help. One stout man with a blade who does not run is worth a thousand fleeing armsmen.”

“I thank you, and I accept your offer,” said Puck after a moment’s thought. “How could I refuse such an opportunity to gather information? I assume you wish to be in command.”

“Naturally.”

“I must ask again why you seek to help the elves.”

It was Brand’s turn to give the other a crafty smile. “Think hard, you will see my reasoning.”

Puck tilted his head. “Ah,” he said, nodding. “Of course. If things are going badly in your lands, you will have me go back to my sire and request aid. As an eye-witness of his own blood, my words will bear more weight than any emissary from the River Folk.”

Brand nodded. “Exactly.”

“You have truly changed, Brand,” Puck said. “You’ve become wise so quickly. It is not only a pretension of the beard, as I had thought at first.”

Brand laughed and gulped his wine. He did not pour a third glass.

“Is anyone else coming with us?” Puck asked.

“Yes. I plan to take Grasty, my Kindred Foreman. He knows the underworld better than most and can advise me as to the effects anything found might have on my construction plans.”

There was a choking sound from beyond the boundaries of the tent. Both Brand and Puck looked at the canvas walls with raised eyebrows.

“Thin walls,” Puck said.

“And large rats,” Brand said. He addressed the walls of the tent. “Grasty, you are relieved until morning.”

“Very good, sir,” came Grasty’s response.

Brand turned back to Puck, who seemed amused. “At any rate,” Brand said. “I might take few others, but the three of us will form the core of the exploratory party. We will not be gone long—less than a day, I should think.”

Puck nodded slowly. “Pack a week’s rations,” he said.

Brand rubbed his beard. “As long as that then? Hmm.”

After Puck had left his tent, Brand put out the lanterns and stowed his quills and papers. The hour was late and he was tired. He thought about his arrangements. A new trip into the depths of the earth? It had been years since he’d done such a thing. He was young still, but he did not relish the thought of meeting fresh horrors the sun had never touched upon.

He left alight only a single lantern to guide him back to his own tent, where Telyn no doubt lay sleeping with the children by now. He rose and threw back the canvas flaps of his tent to leave.

A surprise met him. It was his own beautiful wife. She stood staring up at him, with flat, angry eyes.

“Telyn?” he asked. “I would have thought—”

“That I was asleep while you planned your escape?” she asked quickly.

Brand looked around in irritation. “Was this Grasty’s work? Or that brigand Puck’s? They both work with uncanny speed when you don’t want them to.”

“Never mind that,” Telyn said, pressing at his chest.

He reluctantly retreated back into his tent, where they held a hushed conversation.

“I want to talk about Kaavi,” she said.

“Who? The elf girl?”

“That will not work, Brand. I know all about it. Half the camp does. She spent all day telling everyone you invited her on a trip. An exciting jaunt into the depths of the earth—just the two of you.”

“That’s not how it was, not at all!” Brand exclaimed. He scrambled for the wine and broke out a cup for Telyn, who ignored it. “She asked me to come along, and I told her I would think about it, that’s the truth.”

Telyn regarded him through slitted eyes. “I don’t know what you see in that girl—other than the obvious. Does she have you so charmed?”

“Telyn—”

“Oh yes, you are going to give me assurances. This was all a misunderstanding. Perhaps you are right, and it is all her doing. In which case I’m going out to find her tonight, and I will cut her until one of us stops breathing.”

Brand’s hands were up, and he made calming gestures with them. “How did you ever become so jealous?”

“I had children with you. They change everything.”

“Okay, let’s talk about this. I don’t think you know the full tale yet—because I haven’t had time to tell you.”

He told her then of the dead-things in the tunnels beneath them, of Puck’s visit and Trev’s meeting with the Dead King. When he was done, her face had shifted from outrage to concern and alarm.

“What are we going to do?”

“Now you know why I’ve begun to plan an exploratory trip into the depths.”

“Puck is going? And Kaavi?”

“Elves are useful when facing the Dead. River Folk are less so.”

Telyn thought for a few minutes. She took up the wine Brand had set before her earlier and drank it. “I’m going too,” she said.

Brand fought with the idea, but at last he gave in.

“Four of us then,” she said.

“Five,” he said. “I’m taking Grasty as well.”

A throat cleared outside, and there was a coughing fit. Brand grinned at the thin canvas walls.

“That’s right Grasty, first thing in the morning we’ll each fill a rucksack and loop ourselves with oiled ropes.”

“Yes, milord,” muttered Grasty. He sighed resignedly.

When he finally reached his bed, Brand found the stresses of the day had worn upon him. He wondered how he could be tired, as he’d done little physical work. How could arguing and worrying all day tire a man so? It was a mystery to him. He went to bed gratefully.

Telyn surprised him, however. She came close until her breath was hot in his face and kissed him passionately. They made love, and it was an urgent, angry affair. He wondered if she was trying to give him something to remember her by, in case he felt temptation. Afterward, he fell asleep, truly exhausted.

* * *

Brand dreamt strangely that night. In his dreams, he found himself walking along the streams the Kindred had diverted to drive fresh waters to the castle. No one else was with him—except one other.

She moved along the opposite bank of the stream. The grasses here were not green, but shades of gray in the light of the moon and the stars. The streaming water was inky, reflecting only ripples of silver light into his face and that of the other. He knew her face well; she’d haunted his dreams and his waking steps many times before.

The Shining Lady floated over the grasses on the opposite bank, while he stomped them flat with his boots on his side of the stream. He looked at her often, but only in glances lest her beauty bewitch him. He knew he should not look upon her at all—no man should. But he could not help his wandering eye. She was the loveliest female imaginable. Her face was chiseled like a marble sculpture, her body curved to perfection. She was clad only in swirls of spun gauze. Her silver-white skin shone, reflecting the light of the stars. Her feet were like the talons of an eagle, but they were hidden beneath her flowing white clothing, which was thickest around her legs.

He stopped walking and stared at her. His loins burned for her, and his heart pounded in his temples. He could hear each beat of it, like distant drums. She paused in her gliding advance and turned to face him. He met her gaze, and despite all his strength and knowledge of what was to come, he almost lost his will at that moment.

Her eyes were as bright as embers in a dying fire. Brand stared into them, and he knew he was trying to reject her, and the pain of that fact hurt her. It was unbearable to witness her disappointment. He should not give her such anguish—it simply wasn’t
right
. She was such a creature of pure beauty and enchantment. Her loving, cold embrace was something untold, something indescribable.