Dead Embers (26 page)

But the occupant of the bed simply blew my mind away. She
lay on her side, propped up by stacks of silk and embroidered pillows, a silver
platter of fruits keeping her mouth occupied. Her eyes seemed too large,
bulging from her small face. Her skin, dark as ebony, made me think of ancient
leather. My eyes lingered on her face, held there by a revulsion that was so
unlike me. Had Thor's dislike of the woman rubbed off on me? Or was she just
the ugliest creature I'd ever seen in my life? Even Bal the Surt looked
handsome next to this creature. And from what I'd heard so far, it seemed her
heart was no lovelier than her face.

Two things stuck out: the multitude of black tattoos that
patterned the skin on her face and neck, and her bald head, which gleamed in
the yellow light of the many lanterns dotting the room.

I blinked, swallowed, couldn’t bear to look at her anymore.
Turning my attention to the room and its opulence, I studied the rich
tapestries hung on the walls; handmade Persian carpets, like the one my father
had in his study, decorated the floor. The fragrance of incense wafted toward
us. Music, drifting across the room from a harpist and violinist from the far
corner, accompanied the lonely singer. Both musicians bore the same lifeless
expression as the other captives. Their manacles glinted as their wrists moved
with the music.

And yet, despite the beauty, an air of darkness embraced the
room. An insidious chill sucked the life out of the rich embroidery and
deadened the deep red of the silken furnishings.

Queen Huld popped a bright red grape into her mouth and sat
up, the light glinting off her gold-embroidered gown. "Bring her!"
She barked the order to the guard who'd brought the captive women in. The guard
grabbed the elf by her elbow and shoved her forward. The elf stumbled but
regained her balance, standing spine-erect before the queen.

The queen rose from her bed as elegantly as she could, given
that she was swarthy and no taller than four feet in height. She stomped to a
chaise lounge and lay down against a pile of soft, silky pillows.

Moving to the seat, the beautiful elf-girl perched beside
the queen, glancing at her captor with the most radiant blue eyes I'd ever
seen. Eyes that flashed with anger as the elf's jaw tightened slightly.

Go, elf-girl. Don't let them walk all over you.

The foolish queen never saw the hint of rebellion in her
captive. She just waved an imperious hand and dismissed the two guards.
"Leave us!" she snarled. The queen seemed to treat her guards no
better than her captives. "Guard the hall. Let no one disturb me while the
music plays." They scurried out of the room, shutting the door behind
them. I doubted the queen saw the relieved expressions on her subjects' faces,
either. It seemed even her guards were far from happy campers.

Beneath the cloak, both Mika and I shuffled, uncomfortable
from the odd position of leaning close together for so long. She nudged me.
"Do you see it anywhere? The goblet?" Mika whispered impatiently. But
despite knowing the goblet was the real goal of this mission, my eyes remained
on the elf—another slave of these grotesque creatures.

Without pause, the elf withdrew a roll of leather from her
pack and spread it out on her lap, her fingers, precise, dexterous and so
elegant. Next she withdrew a bottle of a black substance that looked
suspiciously like ink. A needle glinted in her hand, and she dipped the
gleaming metal into the black ink.

The queen spoke again, and I didn't need to strain to hear
her strident words. "Be careful now, you useless elf," the queen
barked, but the elf remained serene. Not even an eyelash twitched. She leaned
over the queen's face and began painting black ink onto her leathery cheek. I
almost gasped as it dawned on me that the horrid old queen was getting herself
an elegant facial tattoo, complete with swirls and butterflies.

Mika snorted softly beside me, and I knew she shared my
not-so-illustrious opinion of Queen Huld.

The elf worked quietly, and the slave-girl sang her sad
notes, while I scanned the room for the Blood Goblet. I searched the queen's
boudoir, inspecting it from the golden bed, which occupied the left side of the
room, to a small wooden dais on the opposite side, currently used as a stage by
the frowning violinist and the sad harpist.

They stood beside a throne made of dark gold and carved with
images of trees and flames and dwarfs. Next to the throne sat a small stone
table, overshadowed by the gleam of the ugly queen's golden chair. A single
item took pride of place upon the Roman-styled pedestal.

One oversized gem-studded goblet.

Bingo.

It reminded me somewhat of the jewel-encrusted goblet from
which I'd sipped Mead during the Rite of the Valkyrie, when I'd received my
wings. Only this goblet was much larger and more ostentatious; impressively
blown, with hundreds of little faceted surfaces, the goblet sparkled with a
million tiny reflections of the flickering torchlight. Beautiful crystal.

The hideous queen grumbled beneath the ministrations of the
serene elf, and my eyes flicked back to her. The elf rose to her feet and
stepped away, and one of the Huldra rushed forward with a large gilt-edged
mirror so the queen could inspect the elf's handiwork.

She peered into the mirror for what seemed like a long time,
examining the tattooed swirls that covered the skin beside her eyes. At last,
satisfied, she lifted her head, opening her mouth to speak . . . and then
suddenly stiffened and sniffed the air in front of her, her newly inked tattoos
creasing as she scowled. "What is that smell?"

Around her, her captives froze, eyes darting around the
room. The music faltered. The queen's bulging eyes glared and her nostrils
flared, bringing to my mind an image of an angry, maniacal horse. I almost
choked when she curled her upper lip, revealing her sharp teeth, just like the
horse I'd imagined. She took a deep breath and waited a few moments, then
shrugged and gazed back at the mirror, dismissing whatever odor had upset her.

Another bark brought forth the other Huldra, who carried a
startlingly beautiful black wig. I guess the old bat wanted to hide her bald
skull from the world, though I doubted the wig would help at all to improve on
her appearance. The queen snatched the headpiece from the skittish Huldra, rose
and pulled it onto her head. I swallowed my surprise. The fake hairdo actually
managed to make the hideous crone look a little better. The wig and the
swirling tattoos were a success.

"Hold the mirror still, you incompetent fool." The
queen growled, and her reflection in the mirror made me shudder. Again she
paused and sniffed the room, her eyes squinting as she lifted her nose, nostrils
flaring. She turned towards us, eyes trained on the exact place where Mika and
I stood, hidden beneath the cloak.

Entering Queen Huld's realm using the cloak had been genius.
My only problem was Mika. The dwarfs seemed to have the knack of sniffing her
out every time. As helpful as she'd been to my mission, her wolfy fragrance had
been a hindrance one too many times. Not that I'd be so ungrateful as to say it
to her.

Thankfully, the guards had evacuated the room.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, tensing and
relaxing muscles taut from standing still for so long. We needed the goblet,
and we needed to get out of this place. Fast. The queen continued sniffing, and
I cringed every time her eyes passed our hiding place.

"I smell Ulfr blood," she announced. The queen
rose from her chaise, scenting the air again, almost loping across the room,
drawing closer to us with each step and each sniff. "You had better show
yourself, or I will have the entire palace guard in this room in five seconds."

Mika and I glanced at each other in the shadow of the cloak.

"You get the goblet. I will distract her and the
guards," Mika whispered. She stepped out of the safety of the cloak before
I was able to respond or make a decision. Guess she made that decision for me.

Clearly, the last thing the queen expected was for an Ulfr
to appear out of thin air. Her thick jaw fell open, and a weird choking sound
gurgled from her throat. Mika took another step away from me, closer to the
queen, hip jutting forward as nonchalant as you please, as if she belonged
here.

"Spawn of Fenrir." The queen spat the words out,
and I stiffened, driven by the urge to turn back and punch the queen's lights
out. Mika balled her fists at her side, barely restraining her obvious desire
to do the very same thing.

While she held the queen's attention, I tiptoed to the dais,
my path clear of obstacles and observers. All eyes were trained on Mika. Even
poor Sarah, who stammered as she began a new ballad, had her gaze fixed on the
Ulfr's face.

I stepped onto the dais, recognizing too late that the
platform was constructed of light wood rather than rock. My foot slapped the
wood, and a hollow echo spread through the room. The songstress faltered; her
eyes darted to the spot where my foot had hit the dais.

"Sing, you stupid creature," the witch yelled,
briefly turning away from Mika to glare at the girl, her painted eyebrows
furrowed with fury. The girl flinched, eyes moistening with tears. She fisted
her fingers and set her shoulders back ever so slightly.

Good for you, Sarah.

The girl was stronger that I would ever be. Who was she and
how had she ended up captured by dwarfs, forced to sing for this odious queen?

Her song resumed, and I crept closer and closer to the
goblet. The queen glared again at Mika, the flick of her hand in front of the
Ulfr's face both dismissive and disgusted. "Horrid spawn of Fenrir!"
Again she spat the words at Mika, flecks of saliva flying from her mouth.
"What has brought your tainted blood to my palace?" I gritted my
teeth again, hating her insults for Mika, but more for Fen, who was my friend
and my mentor.

Mika, slowly and deliberately, wiped the queen's spittle off
her cheek. "I have a proposition for you," Mika answered, her
response surprisingly placid.

Too placid.

What was she thinking? We hadn't planned on what we would
say to the queen in the event of capture. To be honest, the whole getting
captured thing was definitely not part of the plan.

The queen snorted, an arrogant glint in her eye. "And
what makes you think I will want to entertain any proposition from you or any
of your kind?" Her lips rose in a cold sneer. "It was I who fashioned
the chains that bound the unholy creature Fenrir. I watched and I enjoyed it
each time he struggled against the metal, each time he screamed with agony when
the chain burned into his skin."

The queen strutted back to her chaise lounge, clearly
unconcerned that Fen's child stood at her back. She swirled around and draped
herself upon the chair. The musicians behind her paused, frowning, but she
ignored them.

"I enjoyed watching. Yes, I really did enjoy it."
She laughed, a harsh barking that sounded like a pack of rabid jackals fighting
over dinner. "Do you know that the golden chain that bound that hideous
creature caused his transformation to come and go? Quite revolting, you know,
watching him go from human to wolf every time the chain drew his blood. I can
still recall the odor of burning fur!" The queen's raucous laughter rang
through the room, and I shuddered.

While their attention focused on each other, I reached out
and grabbed the goblet, thrusting it quickly within the folds of the cloak.

Too quickly.

I hadn't counted on the sound that crystal glancing against
metal would make. I'd been careless and smacked the goblet hard against the
sword hilt at my hip.

It sounded like a little ringing bell. The girl paused in
her singing again. She looked around, her eyes widening at the empty table. A
roomful of heads jerked toward me.

And so did the queen's. Her painted eyebrows shot high into
the edges of her wig.

She stared right at me.

I was well and truly caught.

The queen's razor-edged screech slashed my eardrums to
ribbons.

I bent over, desperately needing to cover up both my ears,
the same way Sarah was doing. The same way everyone in the queen's presence was
doing. Even Mika stood in a half crouch, protecting her supersensitive wolf
ears, weapon abandoned at her feet, at the queen's mercy. Her shriek raked at
my entire head with claws of agony, leaving scorching rivers of pain in its
wake.

A whimper escaped my lips, and I bit back the hysterical
moan which would have followed. With my right hand still gripping the crystal
goblet by its stem, I managed to stick one finger in my right ear. Then I slammed
my other palm tight against my left ear, shutting out much of the shrieking.

Too late.

A sticky warmth trickled down my cheek, and I shivered at
the power of the queen's screech. Loud enough to pierce our eardrums. Despite
dulling the sound with my hands somewhat, agony still spiked through both my
throbbing ears and deep within my now viciously aching head.

I'd wasted too much time trying to protect myself, so I let
go, wincing as the volume of her screeching increased a million-fold until at
last she had to pause to take a breath. The musicians hobbled to the door,
clutching at their bleeding ears. They tugged it open and ran. The open doorway
seemed to beckon the queen's captives, and seconds later the two Huldra limped
out, holding on to the elf, who seemed close to fainting from the pain.

The open doorway meant only one thing to me. The queen's
guards. Were they chasing after the escapees, or had they too been driven to
their knees by the queen's banshee song? Either way, we didn't have much time
left. I grasped the goblet, tucked it carefully into my leather satchel and
sidled closer to the quivering girl.