Throne of Scars (27 page)

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Authors: Alaric Longward

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BOOK: Throne of Scars
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“I agree, the Pact is binding, by Tiamax,” he said, relieved.

I felt a sting in my chest. I placed my hand over it, and looked down. It was not the wound that ached, but something deeper. The dragon spoke, holding its chest briefly. “Keep the mirror well hidden.”

I hesitated and felt like a filthy liar, but forgave myself quickly. It was time I took precautions. And in fact, I was only keeping to the plan they
had
shared with me. If they had another, its failure was on them. Shannon would benefit, after all.

“Fight well,” the dragon said. “And if you die, the deal is off. Obviously. If they raise you, I shall not spare you. Shannon’s trickery was enough.” He moved, having heard something. A call in the dark. I heard many steps approaching. “Farewell, Ulrich, and survive.”

“Farewell?” I whispered. “I’ve not fared well—”

The dragon shimmered, and fled to the dark, uninterested in my issues.

I pulled off Itax’s ring and hid it in my belt, next to the mirror.

I heard steps behind me now. I turned to look at the arrivals. Itax was there with six svartalf warriors, all dressed haphazardly, armored with chain and plate, holding gleaming weapons. They were his guards, wet and shivering, survivors of the sunken ship. Itax walked forward, looking around carefully. “What was it? I heard a roar.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “What? There’s war. Battle magic. Or a freak accident.”

“You saw
nothing
? How did you survive? Did you see who attacked the ship?”

“Ban’s people? I held my breath,” I told him, glowering. “Got out as the chain broke.”

He nodded, his eyes on the broken chain not too far. “Miracle your arm is still intact, eh?” He stared at me suspiciously, and I stared back defiantly, until he nodded towards the river. “Things got a bit complicated as I lost some of the cargo, but we are still in business, I think. We are going. Are you ready, Ulrich?”

I nodded and looked at the two svartalfs approaching with chains. I reluctantly lifted my hands.

They clamped them on me. He tapped my hand affectionately. “We were lucky. Just remember my offer, because I have a hunch you will indeed be even unhappier in just a few short hours.”

I’d be dead, if he had his way.

“Did my friends travel with us?”

He chuckled. “You will be happy to know the giant survived the sinking of the Bone Queen. The dead girl is making her way to Scardark over land.”

“Oh, I’m happy my friends survived, all right,” I snickered. “Good.” I felt some would not be my friends much longer.

They pulled me off after them.

The dragon was no friend. But I had a hunch he had offered a far better deal than any of my so-called friends or Itax had.

But soon, I’d know everything.

 

CHAPTER 14

I
tax’s ragged band led us down winding paths through the hills of Vastness. There were well-laden roads, and tiny, narrow ways and they knew them all. The land was mostly rocky, but there were great lakes where green and blue luminescent water streamed from deep beneath the land. At one point, there was a gigantic waterfall roaring over golden rocks, tumbling far down to unknown depths. Villages built of stone and metals dotted the main roadsides, and we stopped at a tavern called The Steaming Lizard. It was a round, squat house with many guests. It was home-like, with a cozy fire, a slightly irritating singer, and friendly faces. We ate well, and said little. Itax was in a reclusive mood, perhaps upset over the loss of the ship and cargo, but there was something else.

              The normally confident svartalf was nervous.

              When someone entered, his eyes flashed that way. When someone laughed, he frowned. A human was a rare enough sight for the locals to come and gawk at us, and he had his men chase off many such a patron before they could ask questions.

              I gazed at the people as I ate.

They were much like Aldheimers. Most of the guests looked wealthy enough, though in Svartalfheim, where the majority of riches of the Nine Worlds were to be found, even a svartalf with a golden belt might be considered poor. You could see which ones were the warriors by their fine gear and haughty bearing, and which ones were merchants by their banter. And then there were the commoners, or young ones, who had not found a way in life for themselves yet. They looked just as lost as any wastrel in any of the worlds. All svartalfs had either white or black skin and hair, beautiful and well-structured bones, hugely lustrous hair, and bright eyes like their cousins in Aldheim. Magic of the Gift was far more relevant in Svartalfheim than in Aldheim. Many a laughing svartalf would amuse their friends by spells of air, or fire, creating most extraordinary artwork. They celebrated success with stomping of feet and offering of drinks to the one who managed the most surprising spells.

Despite the monsters wrestling to capture it, it seemed a happy land, full of happy people. Oddly enough, I liked Svartalfheim.

“How is it so that svartalfs fight so many wars in Svartalfheim?” I murmured. “Ruugatha aside, there seems to be much more balance in the Below than the Above.”

Itax shrugged. “Ruugatha aside? That is what makes it balanced. And why fight? Why? They are just like the elves in Aldheim. Or humans in Midgard, for that matter. Some have more than the others. Others covet it. Old family feuds carry far. Scardark’s Five Thrones once fought wars between their clans inside the city. That city,” Itax chuckled, “reeks of blood. It changed when she took the land. Where Freyr let his elves run around warring, it was different here. The Aesir has … had a goddess watching out for the land.”

“Nött,” I muttered. “I know.”

He nodded, touching his finger where the ring used to be. He frowned and went on. “You know shit, Ulrich. She was beautiful as the stars in Aldheim, or the rubies of the deepest caves. This land had Nött. She moved here, the Lady of the Night, and brought her court with her. She raised a palace and a city around the gate to Asgaard, and there she ruled from. The city was a wonder. She laid down laws to limit war and made sure a successful Ruugatha would stop the killing. No sons or daughters would raise armies to retake the throne for ten years. There were to be no raging wars that sucked in nations. The Aldheimers might lose a beloved noble lord, and they can fight for it for ever after. Here, the throne changes hands, and the losers bow to the winner and obey for the time they have to. It doesn’t always work that way, of course, but mostly it does. This dragon business is the first major war between the cities since forever. The svartalfs do attack tribes outside of Vastness and the kingdoms in the depths, but not each other. It’s a sad business.” He hummed. “Ah, Nött. She loved thieves and clever rogues. My family ever served her. She laid down the laws and traditions, but had her own agendas, she did. She loved riches and those who bend the rules. Slightly that is. Oh, she loved games and tragedy. Offer her a chance to play a game, and she rarely refused.”

“I bet,” I cursed. “The gods sound as dangerous as thieves in the dark.”

He was nodding. “She was certainly dangerous. Not all gods were. She had dangerous subjects. Dragons, the three sisters.”

“Stheno and Euryale?” I asked “And—”

“And Medusa,” he interrupted. “It’s hard to say when Stheno’s brood move here. Some say they came with Nött, and made their own realm in the Dark Waters, but they lived and travelled far in the Nine, and I guess they felt they should have a world of their own. More than one. They resented the goddess. They tried, still try. Medusa didn’t like her place as the third sister and joined as one of Hel’s generals in the wars. I think she led an army to Midgard. They had a huge battle there, with the Aesir Baduhanna leading the humans.”

I was nodding. Itax knew much and was in an oddly charitable mood. “Baduhanna, eh? I know precious little of anything,” I said, chewing on a spicy thing that resembled a broiled fish. I wished I had read more. “That palace of Nött’s, around this gate of Asgaard? Is it in Scardark?”

He snorted and gave me a wily look. “No, it is not. But don’t worry about it.” He gazed at a happy, pretty female svartalf, dancing with another. “People are happy enough. They kill hundreds in Ruugatha. But few innocents or cities burn. Children rarely get killed. Unless it’s the orcs warring. Stheno has respected the laws, and why shouldn’t she? She holds Nött’s Scepter and none can topple her throne. The dragon might change everything, though. Let him rule it, and Vastness will crumble into a warzone forever.”

“Where is Nött?” I asked him. “They told me little—”

He chuckled and looked bothered. “We don’t know. We don’t care.”

I thrummed my fingers on the table. He was lying “You do care. Did you see her?”

He hummed. “As a boy, I … made some mistakes with the goddess, but I guess I can say I loved her. As a small boy loves a dark, unattainable thing, I loved her. But she is gone.” He traced the marks of his mug on the table, absentmindedly.

“What would
you
do with the Scepter?”

He shook his head and drank red wine. “Get it for me and you’ll not regret. That’s all I can say. You need to concentrate on survival for now,” he smiled. “Survive and conquer, and we shall all do well. Aid me, and we shall all bathe in glory.”

“Right,” I told him. “Tell me about the Pit? That’s where I’m going anyway, right? Black Feast and then the battle. That’s where Kiera steals the Scepter.”

He got up and stretched, and his guards left to prepare. “You’ll be tested, Ulrich. We have gathered a thousand of the best and most savage slaves in the land. You will feast, and then you will be taken to the depths of the Red Tower. That’s the royal one. They have the Pit below, and Stheno and the kings and all the highest nobles will be there to see the gods pleased. They’ll sit in the balcony with their guards and nod as you die. And in that chaos, your Kiera will do her deed. You will aid her. Thak as well.”

“I’ve got no chance,” I whispered. “Even with the ring. Thousand fighters? We’ll be slaughtered.”

The Under Lord shrugged. “Well,” he smiled and leaned on me. “Half of them are loyal to
me
, and paid for by Shannon. You only have to concentrate on what’s going to happen next. You and Thak will create a great diversion. We’ll see how lucky we get.” He dragged me up and we left the tavern. He guided us through oddly shaped fields with dark vegetation and red and black fields of blotchy mushrooms, and I wondered how the plants could live without light.
Magic, probably,
I thought.

He shoved me to a stable, where his warriors had prepared short-snouted, long-tailed lizards and they strapped me to a saddle. He guided us to a road, and we began riding for Scardark. I felt sleepy, and let the sleep take me.

***

I woke up with a jolt. The lizard not to blame. There had been bad dreams, and my belly knotted as I looked around, still half in a world of nightmares, where the dragon had been chasing me.

I forgot the dreams in a split second.

The City of Scardark rose before us. The villages, magnificently built of stone and metals, rose up like anthills around the great walls. Lakes and rivers glittered between the villages. My eyes caressed the red towers above me, and I heard distant horns playing their music, the notes echoing far in the air where the birds screeched.

Around the villages, tents by thousands filled every spot. Banners of kings and queens rose high over the largest ones, the most elaborate tents and the martial symbols and brazen banners made a wonderful sight. “Behold, Stheno’s alliance,” Itax muttered. “A portion of her power, but the better portion.”

“How do they flutter?” I asked, my mind whirling. “The banners.” They did, they moved in the air.

“The flags?” He laughed. “That’s the one thing you are confused about? You’re a fool. If you have a banner, of course it must flutter. What’s the point otherwise, eh? Spells of Gift, that’s how. Concentrate, you pasty human fool. All Stheno’s best generals are here as she tries to kill the Masked One very soon. She’ll begin the war after the sacrifice.”

“It is a sight to remember. How do they feed them?” I murmured.

“Let the merchants and officials deal with that,” he said, exasperated. “Magic? Fish? Plant? Why would you care? Let them eat and let the peasants gather it all.” He snorted and led us down the road.

We took twisting turns in a series of fortified canyons that ringed the city. We passed fabulous castles guarding the lakes, and finally arrived in the tent cities, and the outlying villages. We passed into one of them, settled right below the gate. It was fifty feet high, wrought of gold and steel, and carved with silvery, leering beast heads. The walls rose one hundred feet, and were indeed painted with red beasts and ancient writing. “Not sure I’ve ever even imagined something like that,” I said, gazing up.

Itax chuckled. “Ancient and magical wall. Here we go,” he said. “It’s time.”

“How do you know the time?” I asked, so confused about everything.

He pointed beyond the city. There was a gentle stabbing light growing out of the face of the wall. It was glittering like the jewels of a god, and a simple white way led up to it. I thought, though I was not sure, there was a doorway in the face of the wall. “How far is that?”

“Half a day. It’s about halfway between Ban and Scardark. And before you ask, that’s the Hourlight of Vastness. It is how we know how to sleep and when to be awake, as set by the goddess. It shines when there is what you call a day in Asgaard, and sleeps the rest of the time. And this day the war shall begin, when the light is at its brightest.” He pushed me. “See, we made it here in time.”

I had not yet stopped wondering at the stabbing light. “Is that a doorway? Just beneath it? Where does it lead?”

He waved his hand. “To gods know where. None of our concern. What you need to do now, is to follow me.”

“Where shall you take me?” I asked.

“You are so annoying,” he breathed, “like a child. Shut your mouth. I could leave you here to wait, but you seem to be too curious for your own good. Come.”

He pulled me along and to the side of the gate. The Under Lord walked past mansions of fine orange marble, and then down an alley of red iron. Bright water shot high from many fountains along its length. Some were simple, others tall and graceful with fantastic animals. He took a turn left and the high walls of Scardark rose up majestically before us. We went closer and closer until the guards of Itax fell behind, their hands on their weapons. He pulled me along, and stopped in an alleyway. He braided together some sort of a spell, and an outline opened in the base of the building next to us. He grinned at me, and pulled open a doorway. It clanked and groaned somewhat crudely, considering it was obviously crafted with high magic. Beneath, darkness beckoned. A smoky stench rose from below, and before I could stop him, he grabbed the chain around my wrists, and pulled me inside.

There was a stairway, and then, a long room filled with moldy statues, artifacts, and even rotting paintings. I could swear some were from Aldheim, though they had been there for a long time. There was the ancient remains of a row of benches, and a jumble of what appeared to be a mound of books. The chain clinked as he pulled me to the far wall, where he moved aside a barrel.

He tapped a lighter spot on the wall. There was a mouth on the wall. I shuddered, as I remembered the lecherous door of Euryale. They had been a strange thing, and I wanted no part with such things, ever again. However, now I was forced to as it spoke with a thin voice.

 

“A dance and a black mass,

give the word, or you shall not pass.”

 

Itax took a theatrical pose, and did an incredibly dexterous dance, one I could never imitate. Then he sang a series of sad notes, a song, which was surely spellbound. It made me so sad I felt like shedding a tear.

“Word,” he uttered after the song.

The door opened.

The realm of the Under Lord opened up before us.

It was an underground town. There was a river running thought it, a pier of moldy gold, and a sea of loot. In the midst of the huge chamber was a twenty-foot golden statue, and one to make a man blush. It was a nude elven female, holding her hands high. “Magnificent,” Itax mumbled and smacked his lips. “Always fabulous.” Around it, there were dragon’s hoards worth of treasure. There were heaps of jewels of all kinds and color, glittering like the sea. Coins, jewelry, golden vases. It was enough to drive a man crazy. “That sight should take your thoughts off the fight, eh?” he asked.

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