Throne of Scars (19 page)

I called the same spell and it coiled out of my gauntleted hand. His weapon was still coming, and should it hit, I’d be cut in half.

I reacted automatically.

I grasped the deadly whip from the air, and it curled around my gauntlet, heating it, but not penetrating the artifact. The svartalf’s handsome face froze into a shocked mask and I didn’t waste time. My whip sliced him in two cauterized bits.

Ittisana stood with Thak in the doorway, Cosia covering near. Horns blew in the tunnels and orcs attacked the two with rage. I surged up next to them. Spears flew in, Thak stumbled forward as his sword hacked across, and my whip flashed into the tight orc formation, separating flesh from bone, splitting a rank of shields clean in two. An orc tackled me, we rolled down the tunnel, and the thick, powerful thing had its hands around my throat. Thak appeared and ripped the creature’s head off, and roared as javelins struck him in the back. We got up and saw Cosia was free, the chain rattling on the stone as she rushed for us.

Ittisana still stood in the doorway, her shield out, and she let loose a spell. Acrid smell filled the air, and then I heard a boom, as lighting struck inside the chamber. Dozens of the enemy fell to pieces, and even the jotun, who had apparently decided to join the fray, screamed with pain.

“Go!” Ittisana yelled, as a spear tore through her shoulder. “Go!” An ominous sound could be heard, the flapping of feet, as a horde poured into the chamber and Ittisana was hacking around, her shield getting pummeled so hard sparks flew in arcs. Spears surged around her, one pieced her thigh.

She didn’t even cry out.

She let go of a thick wall of fire, so thick all the ice in the room melted at once and dozens of the monsters turned into crisp piles of meat.

“Gods,” Thak muttered. “We go, we must—”

“Ittisana!” I screamed, but she let go with another lightning bolt, tottered forward to the midst of the enemy. She fell, as a huge, terrified orc beat her shield with a maul, and then three arrows appeared in her chest, and she slumped. “No!” I screamed, but Thak pulled me off, kicked Cosia along, and off we ran.

Somehow, she was still fighting. A boom of lighting tore the air. There were screams of pain, and either Ittisana or Kiera were still holding them. Some enemy, however, got past her.

We heard iron shod boots clomping along after us.

We ran thus, until the sounds of battle subdued. We ran for hours and hours, through natural chambers, across a low tunnel that spewed rancid water into a deep, luminous lake, only visible from cracks in the wall. My chest was a mass of biting pain, I was bruised and hurt, but Thak kept pushing me along. Soon, guided by Cosia, we were taking ways that were barely scalable, and still the enemy followed. During a descent on a rubble filled path of a wide, long tunnel, I turned and saw them. Ban’s flag was waving, and the orcs howling, never far. Arrows stuck walls every now and then, as the fleetest of them were catching up.

Finally, Thak turned to me, and I knew he would fight to the death for us, giving us time. I cursed, and denied him by pushing him along, and then, in just a few steps, a magnificent sight opened up.

It was a cavern without a visible roof. It was like a small world, vast, the walls hung with odd vegetation growing from cracks, dark leaves and vines pouring out thickly. As far as the eye could see, and all across the cavern, ponds and lakes dotted the land. Swathes of land, like thin worms ran across the lakes, and on those bits of land, there were hundreds of stone villages, larger towns, and finally, at the end of the cavern, protected by a tall wall, a city or a huge palace stood. It was filled with soft lights.

“Dark Waters,” Cosia said viciously.

“We must find another way,” I hissed.

She stopped and stood to face us. “No. This
is
the right place. You wish to run? What shall it be? Death back there, or face my kin?”

Thak cursed. “Go on, Ulrich. It will be well.”

“How will
this
be well?” I yelled. He shook his head, took a hesitant step forward, and I knew we had no choice. “Lead us on,” I told her.

“As commanded,” she hissed. “But I smell freedom. I smell my reward finally.”

Reward?
I thought and despaired, as I spied a squat fortress down the path, guarding the entrance to the roads that led through the land.

We ran down the path. It was winding, long, dangerous, and we slipped many times.

The orc horde appeared. They yelled, some obviously scared as they found themselves at the doors of the Dark Waters. A deep voice rose, harsh and commanding, and so they followed us, at first reluctant, but then fast. Boots beat the ground behind us. I looked down, and nearly screamed with what was probably misplaced hope, because there, by the lake an army of gorgon-kin was gathered. There were hundreds, more, holding shields, spears, and braiding spells. They were armed in bright chain, their long thighs bared in slits of armored skirts, some with bared breasts, all beautiful and beastly, with hundreds of differently hued snakes that slithered on their shoulders.

Then I looked up and nearly shat my pants.

The jotun was there, right behind us. He was outpacing the goblins, scattering some, stepping on one. He was fourteen feet tall or more, held a spear and a shield, snarled as he jumped.

I fell on my back, taking Cosia with me as we rolled down the hillside.

Thak turned, his eyes filled with berserker rage. He moved like a mad weasel, his huge sword coming out to meet the jotun. He was growing to match the size of his enemy. The spear tore a savage wound on his cheek, but his sword pieced his enemy in his middle. The blade disappeared inside the chain and the flesh as they collided, the jotun screaming in his apparent death throes. The foe and Thak fell and rolled. They were struggling, fighting, biting and striking.

The two rolled over a ledge and fell to the lake.

I scrambled after them. I noticed the gorgon-kin near, and arrows began killing the orcs. I cared not. “Thak!” I screamed as I stared down at the water, where nothing could be seen, only darkness. “Thak!”

“He is gone, you damned human scum.” I turned to find Cosia behind me. “But I thank you for bringing me home,” she said and kicked me in the face, and I rolled down into the midst of the army of gorgons. I felt Cosia was there again, hissing softly. The chain was gone, somehow. She hovered over me, and pulled off my gauntlets and my sabre, and finally the mask from my belt. I grasped for it, but she ripped it to herself, nearly taking my finger off. She kicked me hard in the ribs, and sat on my burning chest, her snakes waving over me, tongues flicking deadly and dangerous. She showed me the Bone Fetter, the twirling patterns under her skin, and they glowed. She cackled with joy, and fire played in her fingers. “See? Not so fettered, am I?”

“How?” I despaired. “Kiera held the ring—”

“I Kiss the Night, boy,” she said as the fire danced on her fingertips. I struggled, fought with her, but she pressed my face to the ground with brutal strength. She pulled my face around. “I wanted to do this back when we trained you. Such a pretty boy you were. Bilac desired you as well, but she made a mess of it, didn’t she? So here we are, finally.” She leaned over me and then she kissed me. It was a long, oddly gentle kiss, but it ended with a tearing pain. Dozen snake bites raked me. They bit my face, my shoulders, and neck, and I convulsed with brutal pain. She ended the kiss, slapped me and spoke. “Strip him!” she spat. “Bring him with us, chained. Give him medicine before you leave him in the Well. And take me to my sisters, and then my mother. I’m finally home.”

I passed out.

“I sense you have suffered much. You are not what you were, once. There is something about you. Something is lacking. I wonder if it is only your pride and ambition that is missing?”

Eris to Cosia

I
woke up slowly. I felt my face, and found the bite marks.

Deadly,
I thought in panic.
Cosia’s bites were deadly.

And yet, I was alive.

Though, perhaps, only barely. I felt weak as a newborn kitten. My chest was a ball of molten fire. I was also drenched. And I was nude. “What the hell …” I muttered as I tried to stand up, but thick chains held my wrists. They were embedded somewhere to the bottom of the cell, under the thin layer of water and so I fell on my rear with a splash and thanked gods there was nothing sharp under the surface. I tried to figure out where I was.

Well. She had mentioned a well.

Yes. It was a watery well, dark as murder, and I felt panic creeping in. I felt my way around the dark bottom, ran my fingers on the chains, managed to get on my knees, and shivered there, listening.

There were no sounds. I could barely see. The magical sight was limited or gone. I saw stones, a chain hanging from the wall. Above me and along the walls hung moss. I cursed and tugged at the shackles. “They got to go,” I muttered and tried to find a lock. There was none. They were probably magical. I had nothing to pick a lock with either, like I had back in Euryale’s dungeon.

Cosia. She had cast spells
. I groaned and tried to fathom what that was all about.

She was free to use her powers. Had Kiera been destroyed? Had her death released Cosia? I didn’t truly understand the Bone Fetters or the spell and the rings that controlled them, but now Cosia was free and that was that. She could cast her spell of shape-changing, something a jotun alone might know, and the few elves like Hannea, and the draugr. She would disappear. And if she were found, her vicious battle spells were back. She knew many. She didn’t need her fangs to kill us all.

Yet, she had wanted to see her mother and sisters. What was that about?

“Why am I alive?” I muttered?
To be tortured?

Cosia had spent two years doing just that, back when we had trained with Euryale. I, like the rest of the Ten Tears, bore scars of that time, physical, and mental. They had trained us killers.

I was naked and weak, but not helpless. I slapped my face to focus.

I still heard and felt the fires of Muspelheim, so close. I could still use magic. My Bone Fetter, useless since my unique skill was that I could not be blocked from magic, pulsed weakly and I lifted my hands and the chain up.

I called for fire and braided together the familiar spell of fire wall. I let it twirl around my hands, and released the weave to scatter at a wall. Moist vegetation hissed, and burned up brightly. The spell’s power was nothing compared with the artifact’s terrible power. It was not alive, not sentient, and when I let go of it, it was gone. The flames offered little comfort, but they did offer sight. The vegetation burned, despite being moist, and bright orange and yellow flames crackled as the fire slowly climbed up, creating a hypnotic web of orange and red.

It was a well, indeed. An impossibly deep well. It was the sort of a grave one could easily be forgotten in.

I felt panic, as I ran my hand on the wall. I felt tightness of breath as I sat there. My chest ached with pain, and I was sure I’d die. The wound was terrible, purplish and black, and the size of my hand. I sobbed, and waited, trying to collect myself. In the end, the pain subsided, though slowly, and I thought I’d not die then and there. Instead, I thought of screaming for help. I couldn’t say how deep the well was, probably deep enough so the snake-headed bitches would not be disturbed if I screamed. There was barely enough water to cover my ankles. The gorgons had the lakes to drink from, so it was really a torture chamber.

One to drive a prisoner mad with despair.

Shit, what a mess,
I thought. We had failed. Utterly. No matter what the plan had been, it was all lost. Gods knew if I had slept for days. The battle between Scardark and Ban was probably all over. The gates of Scardark would be closed. The Scepter of Night would never leave Stheno’s hands. Kiera was needed to steal it anyway. Her guard, her cadre of kings and queens, and their best warriors would take the Horn from the dragon, and we could only despair.

Perhaps Shannon was dead already.

I rubbed my face, and felt the need to scream again.

Instead, I gathered a spell. I pulled and braided together the fiery whip, which coiled down to the water, hissing, raising steam, which was surprisingly warm and I enjoyed it enough to keep the whip in the water for a long moment. Then, reluctantly, I maneuvered it over the steel of the chains, and let it rest on the metal, and the steel heated, softly.

It didn’t break.

It heated quickly and I cried out as the shackles burned. I let go of the whip, and plunged the shackles into the water, and sat there like a lost child, wondering what I could do.

Anja could open them.
Anja, who sided with the Regent, because she hated Shannon and Dana, for the twins who died. But Anja wasn’t here. Likely, she’d spit on me if she were looking down from above. I resisted the urge to call for Thak, the one who had saved us so often.

Did he die?

Kiera?
Could
she die?

Of course she could.

Something moved above. I looked up, and expected to see trouble, and I wasn’t disappointed. It was Cosia. She was coming down, holding on to a thick chain, and her descent was silent.

I hated her.

I hated her enough to make me consider trying to scorch her off the chain. I wished she had died the day Shannon beat Euryale, but she had survived, nonetheless and now Shannon’s mistake would make me suffer terribly. That was the one thing that was certain. She wasn’t there to amuse me with jokes, nor to offer me the comfort of her warm lap and a dose of sympathy. She’d peel the flesh off my bones.

But still, I held off attacking her.

The chain stopped some feet above me. She hung there. Her snakes were weaving, calm, dark and glistening. She was nothing compared to Stheno, one of the three original gorgons, but a lesser shadow. Yet still a deadly, malicious foe.

“Why am I alive?” I asked her at length.

The chain rattled and she jumped down with a splash. She wore little, as is the way of the creatures. Her chain mail was short on her toned thighs, her magnificent body was muscular, and her deadly dark eyes gave nothing away. All her bruises and wounds were gone, somehow. She stood there before me and tilted her head, oddly, efficiently, like an owl. She spoke as she prodded my thigh with her boot. “I spared you. I spared you even when all my dreams have involved murdering you lot. My heart demanded I kill you, kill you slowly, kill you painfully, kill you again and again until you no longer resembled something that once walked around on two legs. But here you are. It is so hard to resist one’s deepest desires. Happily, I have other agendas.”

“What other agendas?” I growled at her.

She smirked at me. “We have a lot to gain still. The shit I’ve been through must be justified. There is a chance. It is your
only
chance to escape the fate I’d love to see you suffer.”

I looked at her as if she was crazy. “What chance is this? We’ve
failed
,” I said bitterly. “Is that not enough? Do you need to mock me as well? No. You’ll use me for some scummy scheme, and then you shall slit my belly.”

She shook her head. “My snakes would have killed you. You would have died in an hour, and I had plenty of time to see you eviscerated, if I desired. Yes, there is a scummy plan and I’ll let go of you after.”

I stared up at her. “And what was Shannon’s plan? Only Kiera knew of it. Did you?”

She stared at me mutely.

“I’ll help you with this shit, and then you’ll let me go. I’ll stand before Scardark, and know nothing,” I shouted. “Do you know the plan? I don’t think so!”

“There is still time to get there,” she said with a smile. “And I promise, Ulrich, to tell you the plan just before you leave.” The promise was delivered with an ominous note. “Yes, I know the plan.”

“You know it?” I muttered. “How?”

“I know it. It’s your only chance. Now, man up,” she hissed and booted me again.

I rubbed my face. “Man up? But Ittisana’s gone, Kiera might be dead, and—”

“And I made a …deal with Shannon,” she told me darkly. “I will profit from it. I’ll keep my word. I’ll get you there, and help you along. Will you take the chance to survive?”

I cursed her under my breath and nodded stiffly. “Will I take it? A chance to live? To help my friend out, after all? Yes, of course I will! I’ll take it. I’ll regret it, but I’ll take it. No matter how desperate it is.”

She nodded back. “Very well. My oath on it. If you succeed, I’ll tell you the plan and get you to Scardark. I promise on my family’s name. This is where we shall grasp at roots, and the roots are slippery, my boy. You will have to be smart and brave, which might not be a possibility, considering your humble origins and past performance.”

“Coming from a snake who was a prisoner not so—” I began, but she placed a foot on my throat and shoved me down to the water. My mouth stayed on top. I struggled, but it was clear I should give up, and I did. I ground my teeth together. “What do you want me to do?”

She laughed, pulled me up and squeezed my face in a brutal, vicelike grip. “First, know this. Escape is
not
an option. You are in a hopeless situation. You shall stay here, die here, fail here, or succeed. Euryale’s punishments were the pranks of a sweet little child compared to what you face if you try to make trouble. Other trouble than the one I want you to take part in, that is. Do
not
run.”

I grimaced with spite and ripped myself free. “I won’t run.”

“What I want? It’s not going to be easy,” she hissed. “And nothing ever will be easy in Svartalfheim. Brace yourself.”

“No, nothing’s easy,” I murmured. “Nothing ever will make one smile without making one shed tears first. I know this. I’m well braced. Just tell me what to do. And if I might, can I do it clothed?”

She looked down at my nakedness and chuckled darkly. “No, I doubt you can do it clothed. But never mind that for now. I need something,” she said after a moment’s contemplation. “A surprise. And you are the key to gaining it.”

“Oh?” I asked. “A surprise. What’s that?”

She laughed and pulled at the chains. She cast a spell and the chains moved like snakes. They thinned and tied themselves around my wrists. She pulled me up, my hands secured, and pushed me against the wall. “Hear me.”

“I’m all ears,” I said, shivering.

She pulled my ear painfully. “There are twenty thousand Dark Water gorgons in this cavern, our home. Twenty thousand. They all follow mother. She is called Eris the Old, and our family is indeed the eldest.”

“You are the daughter of the Queen,” I muttered and my eyes brightened. “Wait. You want to perform this Ruugatha? Toppling of a Throne?” She smiled wickedly and my head spun. “And you said you need a surprise? You mean I’m to murder her? With magic?”

She smiled mirthlessly. “Oh, don’t sound so shocked. But essentially, yes. I will be the Queen. She is a bad one. A terrible one. In the chaos of Hel’s war, ages past, when all the creatures fought against each other, she was true to Stheno. Eris serves Stheno faithfully like a tame lizard. She does her bidding; she fawns on her. And there, behind that mask of servitude, she loves
peace
. She goes to war, but not willingly. She disdains needless conquest, and is forever trying to save the lives of those she overcomes. For profit, she says, but I know better. She could take the Dark Water to lofty spires of power. Yet, this cavern satisfies her. This one shitty cavern. Her heart is soft as a ball of mud. She is ancient, she is foolish, but unfortunately she is very powerful. Very. I’m her eldest. And I wish to be the eldest in our family.”

My mind was whirling. “She sounds like a good person.”

She laughed. “A soft one. And she is not a person, fool. She is a Queen. A weak queen. This is the deal. You will kill this good, kindly soul.”

“I told Shannon I’d not …” I began and despaired.
I’d have to kill an innocent. Gods, be cursed.

She shook her head. “None of that now. Remember what the mission is. You can still accomplish it, if you are brave. Eris has to fall. She has to fall in order for me gain the Silver Seat,” she said intensely. “On that silver seat, I shall be able to do what needs to be done for Shannon. Besides, it is my prize, has always been. I’ve always desired it. And I will get it.” Her eyes were burning with desire and drive. “And then, later, we shall get you to the city. I can do it, if I rule the Dark Water.”

I despaired and wanted to deny her. Yet, it was the only chance I’d get. And perhaps Eris was a piece of gristle, after all. She was a queen, and what queen didn’t commit acts of murder? “How would I kill someone like her?” I growled. “When? Queens tend to be well guarded and take badly to people who try to burn them alive.”

She rapped her knuckles against my skull as if to invigorate me. “Why, you will surprise her. You will know when,” she said. “Be bold. Be arrogant, brazen, and she’ll respect it.”