Throne of Scars (32 page)

              She blinked and moved like a lightning strike. Kiera was rolling as Stheno appeared before her, so close to us. I cursed and lifted the mask, and tried to place it on my face. The time for doubt was over.

              Stheno saw my movement, whirled in fury, and released her spells at us.

A dozen lightning bolts struck the top of the pyramid. Stone was broken, part of the pyramid collapsed. Kiera disappeared and appeared near the bottom of the structure, holding the Scepter. I was hurled down the steps, spitting blood, my chain mail smoking. Dana rolled down as well, stopped by the chains, her back a steaming red mass of charred flesh.

In my pain, I saw Stheno move like a flash, and Kiera dodging away again, drawing the Heartbreaker.

Shannon grew brighter, the crows fluttered in the air and she landed near them. Shannon’s lightning stabbed at Stheno, and she howled as a red snake was torn from her head. She picked herself up, saw Thak rushing silently for her. She dodged—like a cat—another lightning strike from Shannon, pulled two swords from the ground, and a spear and faced off with the jotun. She parried the twelve-foot giant, her eyes trying to catch the eyes of Thak. The giant had to look away and he dodged a spear with luck, parried a sword, and howled as a sword stuck into his thigh. Kiera rushed behind Stheno, and Heartbreaker rammed into her back. The monster howled, turned, and grasped the Scepter. Her spear slapped Thak so hard he fell on his back, half senseless.

She howled with triumph as she tried to wrestle the Scepter off Kiera. Shannon’s spell, a stream of fire fell apart around them. The Scepter would make her invincible, and so she held on to it, and Kiera held it back. The dead elf was brave. She stabbed and stabbed at Stheno, hacked at her face and head, severing another snake, and took horrible punishment for it. Stheno struck her with the swords, opening a wound in her hip. Then she rammed the hilt into Kiera’s body, face, and skull, breaking bones with every strike. “Let go, you Hel spawn!” Stheno screamed as they struggled and rolled in the dust.

I crawled up to my knees, vomiting, and then tried to find the mask. I couldn’t see it. I sneaked up to Dana, flinching each time Kiera was struck savagely and tried to find the artifact.

“It’s somewhere under me,” Dana panted, trying to pull herself up. I cursed and pushed and pulled her, grasped her hips and lifted her higher, and saw the mask in a crack of stone. I pushed her onto the broken pyramid and thrust my hand at the crack.

Below, Stheno had to face Shannon, while battered Kiera held on to the Scepter. Shannon was coming forward, Famine glinting.

She let go of a spell, a fire spear that dissipated around Stheno.

She gazed at Famine, cursed and let go with a lightning strike of her own. It raced at Shannon, who shrieked as it burned into her chest. She spat undead blood, and got up, just to see Stheno renew her spell.

Thak saved them.

He crashed into Stheno and Stheno shrieked with rage and they rolled on the ground.

Stheno lost her hold on the Scepter.

Thak was fighting, bleeding, his sword coming for Stheno, who kicked at him. Thak flew in the air for twenty feet and rolled weakly to his belly.

Stheno turned to Shannon and screamed as she saw Shannon finishing a spell.

A mighty stream of pulsing fire roared for her. Stheno’s face turned partially black, and some snakes were on fire. She shrieked and rushed around, burning. She looked up at the balcony. There, stricken svartalf nobles and their families looked down. Some turned to stone. She cast a spell, and appeared in the middle of them, turning to attack Shannon with fires of her own. Shannon moved, cursed, looked at me furiously as I tried to extract the mask from the stone. She flickered in the air and turned into crows, and followed Stheno.

She appeared next to the First Born. Famine was glinting.

Both glowed with mighty magic, spells to thwart death and to give it. Fire and ice ripped from each and svartalfs died by score. Kiera was frowning below us, and I cursed as the mask moved a bit. Dana was yanking at her chains, which were no longer secure on stone. Kiera appeared next to me and she pulled me up, and pointed up to the battle. Dead svartalfs were falling down from the balcony, slain by the magic of the two. The tower shook, as Stheno let go of a spell that nearly ripped a hole under Shannon, but she had moved closer to her nemesis. They were twenty feet apart, coming closer. Neither was clothed, their robes burned away, and Shannon’s flesh was red and open in many places, Stheno bleeding like a fountain. Stheno’s mighty spell of ripping icy hands were tearing at Shannon’s legs, and at some female svartalfs who died in a blink, but Shannon stomped them to pieces, and let go with a fiery spear, which pierced Stheno’s thigh. The beast howled madly.

Kiera pulled me up and pointed at the battle. “Release the mask, Ulrich. Kill her, the lot with it. Do it! This is the chance.”

“I am trying!” I hissed and ripped myself off her. “It’s stuck.”

“I have to guard the Scepter!” she hissed. “We need you!”

“I’ll guard the Scepter,” I told her and she cursed me vilely. “I’ll get this free, and then I’ll help.”

“When you die, Ulrich, beg I still want you,” she said and thrust the mighty thing at me. I held it, felt it thrumming with power. My flesh was tingling with its energies and Kiera rushed away. I gazed at Thak, who was clawing his way back to life, bleeding from a dozen wounds. I put the Scepter down, and placed my knee over it. I found a broken sword, and breathed a curse as I used it to pry the mask out.

It moved a bit.

I gave a glance up to the balcony.

There, the horrible, punishing battle was ongoing. Kiera tried to make her way to Stheno. She apparently had no energy to use magic, and was rushing over rubble. She climbed and made it to the remains of balcony, not far from Shannon, who was pouring fire into Stheno, who was roaring and cursing, one of her arms limp. She countered the spell and made the stone around her cherry red with heat, burning Shannon’s feet and legs, turning a svartalf female into an instant pyre.

Kiera was struggling to get to them. Some svartalfs, in panic, attacked her. She roared her anger and began slaying the nobles. She screamed her hatred, her anger and let go of her lust to kill. She stabbed one, then another. She got near Stheno and was stopped by more nobles who were trying to flee. Kiera’s blade killed one, ripped another’s leg off. One of the svartalfs let loose an icy whip, and Kiera rolled away from a whiplash, and turned to fog as two svartalf warriors stabbed spears at her. She appeared behind them, exhausted, fighting like a possessed thing. She tore her sword though the neck of one, ripped the head off another, and then stabbed behind her.

A female child was there, tottering around in confusion. The child fell. The female svartalf who had struck a wound at Kiera shrieked in soulless agony, and I knew the child had been hers.

“No,” I whispered and struggled with the mask, “Gods damn you,” I wept, and knew I might have stopped that death had I joined the fight faster. I had been hurt, angry, betrayed, and now I was guilty of that death, and many others.

The mask moved more, I grasped it and began pulling it. The sword broke fully. I thrust my hands into the crack and pulled.

Dana, trailing chains came to help me.

Kiera pulled her sword from the child and the corpse fell on her back. She stopped there, over her, the blade dripping, and looked down at me. I shook my head weakly, sick to my stomach of the horror. She looked away, not willing to see my face, my sick soul and my anger, and no matter if she had done similar, terrible deeds in Aldheim, there was horror on her face as well. She moved and rushed over boulders, aiming for Stheno, who was releasing a spell of cold at Shannon, making Shannon’s arms and limbs heavy with the tightening grasp of ice.

Shannon couldn’t move. The dagger glinted under the ice.

The savage First Born nodded and walked weakly for the Hand of Hel. She was calling for yet another spell. A shield of dark metal appeared in Stheno’s remaining left hand, a pair of fiery whips to her right hands. She spoke so loud we heard her. “To imagine, my own creation should come to haunt me so. I have hundred and fifty thousand soldiers outside this city. Fit for taking Aldheim, a great army to defeat anyone, and here I am, in my own Pit, facing something that should be dead. But let me remedy that.”

Shannon laughed. “And imagine the shame, when you die in the same Pit. Come, Stheno. Taste the bite of Hel.”

Stheno roared, and attacked. The whips weaved a wondrous weave in the air as she slapped them at Shannon. Shannon screamed defiance, and the whips passed through her. The ice fell to the rubble, and Shannon rushed forward in a cloud of crows, face to face with the beast, and she slashed the Famine at the First Born. A snake was hacked off, Stheno’s face opened by the blade of the Goddess Hel, and Stheno screamed. Her shield bashed at Shannon, hitting her squarely, and yet, Shannon stabbed again. The blade sunk to the shoulder of the First Born.

Kiera finally made it to the battle.

Her blade sunk into the back of Stheno, then she ripped it out and tore it through the neck of the gorgon, then the back again. Stheno screamed, cursed as her back was pierced, and Shannon, her bone hand scraping at the shield between them, twisted the dagger. She cursed Stheno. “You egg of evil. You spawn of murder. You and your filth of a sister, you bitch, you murdering bastards and mistakes of the Filling Void. You cursed my family in the Tenth, betrayed the gods, betrayed Hel, you greedy spawn of lizards. And now, go to Hel!”

Stheno held her feet. She spat and her snakes weaved as she grasped Shannon’s throat. She twisted to the side, and fell with Kiera and Shannon to the Pit. Like dogs, they fought on. They rolled together in a primal struggle. Stheno released scorching flames, and Kiera screamed and let go of her and Heartbreaker. Shannon and Stheno wrestled in the dust, turned and turned, and I saw Stheno pull the Heartbreaker from her neck.

I felt the mask come loose, and then I was kicked aside. Swords pointed at Dana and me from all directions.

Itax stood over me, and Gutty was behind him. A hundred svartalfs were there, creeping towards the two queens fighting for their lives.

“You shit,” I said, as he picked up the Scepter. “You are after the throne.”

He smiled. “That, and more. But I didn’t lie when I said I love Nött. She will reward me well.”

I nodded.

“You don’t seem surprised,” he muttered.

“I sensed there was a goddess involved,” I spat.

“And probably thought you might take the Horn to her. Not that simple. The Scepter is needed. And you don’t have it.” He grinned at me. “Finally. She will be so grateful to her Under Lord. Yes, that is a title of her high thief.” He stared aghast at the two beasts. “Quite a fight. Not quite what Stheno expected, eh? You did well, even if you did nothing. Wait,” he told Gutty, who was directing his troops forward. “Let one kill the other. Then kill the last one. Then, I’ll decide how to make the best use of you two.” He held the Scepter with a wide smile. He turned it, as if to make sure it was the right one, and laughed softly. His eyes turned to the battle on the edge of the Pit. “Such a sight. I wish I had bet on one. Imagine the bet taker’s face if I had laid one down on the Queen of Scardark.”

Indeed, Stheno had the upper hand.

Shannon was beneath Stheno. Stheno was trying to rip Shannon’s head off, and was maneuvering the Heartbreaker for her neck. She would die. Shannon was struggling, Famine still on Stheno’s shoulder and was releasing a spell. It was the spell that had hurt Euryale so badly. A nasty, rotting fog poured from her hand to Stheno’s chest and into the wound.

Itax frowned. “Perhaps on the Queen of Aldheim, then.”

Stheno’s skin turned black, muscles withered, the shield fell away as an arm fell off, and she screamed so hard our ears rang. Stheno pulled up, but came back down, and ripped the Heartbreaker into Shannon’s belly. Shannon screamed and screamed, and ripped the Famine through the flesh and muscle to Stheno’s chest, near her heart and throat, and the two were panting and raging. Lightning left Shannon’s hand, and Stheno flew in the air and crashed amidst corpses. They pulled themselves to their feet. Stheno tottered forward, two whips of fire slashing weakly for Shannon, who tried to change into her cloud of crows, but couldn’t. Her flesh opened in belly and chest.

How much more could she possibly take?

Stheno pushed at her, raised the whips again.

Kiera was there, her leathers still on fire. She crashed into Stheno, who fell on her fours. She pummeled her with fists, and Stheno tried to get up, doggedly.

Shannon, tottering, lifted Famine. Itax whispered to Gutty, who nodded, and the soldiers walked down. Many were braiding together spells.

The svartalfs guarding us were nervous. They were looking down, where Shannon grasped the remaining snakes of Stheno, and lifted Famine and hacked at Stheno’s back.

I looked at the mask. The swords were on our back.

Then we had help.

Thak was there, having sneaked behind them. He placed two mighty paws over the heads of the guards, and squeezed. They fell dead.

Thak kneeled next to me. “Save her. Save Shannon, and I’ll aid you, when you ask. Save her from the bastards.”

I shuddered with fear. I pulled the mask out with a screech. I removed the ring, and pulled on the gauntlets. I grasped the mask, and saw how Shannon rammed the dagger into Stheno’s skull.