Dead Embers (27 page)

She lowered her trembling hands, fingers speckled with
blood. I was about to scare the shizzles out of her, speaking to her like a
ghost out of thin air, but I had no choice. We had to get out of here before
the queen's shrieks brought the rest of her guards pouring into the room. Or
before she made us bleed to death through our ears.

I prayed Sarah wouldn't go all hysterical on me now.
"Don't be afraid," I whispered, hoping she could hear me through her
blood-soaked ear. "Stay away from the queen, maybe near the door. We'll
get you out of here." My voice echoed in my ears, hollow, muffled. The
damage had been done; I was still half-deafened by the queen's hellish scream.

But Sarah must have heard and understood me. Her eyes
widened with shock, the color draining from her already too pale face. And
though fear flitted across her features, she clenched her jaw, controlled the
rise of panic and maintained a calm, steely composure. She nodded slightly,
staring right through me.

Boy, is this girl chock full of courage.

It was time. I faced the queen, who surveyed the room and
grinned, her yellow teeth gleaming in the shivering torchlight. She knew she
had won.

Now or never.

Taking a huge leap of faith, and hoping I wouldn’t live to
regret trusting Sarah, I shrugged the cloak off and threw it at her. No way
could I fight while encumbered by yards of invisible fabric. Sarah caught it,
staring first at me and then at my wings, wide eyes ever wider.

So much for the glamor, then.

I stiffened as it dawned on me—maybe Thor had insisted on me
bringing the cloak because he knew glamors wouldn't work within the evil depths
of Swartelfheim.

The room fell into a pain-filled, almost tangible silence as
Queen Huld gaped at my sudden appearance. I descended the dais, eyes focused
solely on her. She took two steps forward to the table at her left, grabbed a
thin, short-bladed sword and threw it hand to hand. Then the queen cackled, so
self-assured that I could almost taste the bile of defeat. I blinked and shook
the negativity out of my head as she gripped the sword between both palms and
tugged, pulling the weapon apart and coming away with two separate blades. In
another time and place, I would've gasped and thought that little trick was
pretty cool.

Not today.

Today, my blood simmered with every bit of anger and hatred
I'd come to feel for this evil screeching dwarf. She grinned, triumphant after
her little war dance.

Keep grinning, witch. Enjoy it while you can, because I'm
just going to wipe the satisfaction off your hideous face.

I gripped my sword hilt, blood pumping through my body,
fingers tight on the cool metal. My breath came in short, violent puffs, and I
almost drew the sword. And then I blinked, aghast at this sudden inner desire.

I wanted to kill the queen.

Fear and distaste pricked goose bumps to my skin. Did I
really want to kill her, banshee bitch that she was? Where had that urge come
from? I'd never willingly intended to end a life before. Even Pete, the Craven
school bully who'd used me for a punching bag, hadn't extracted such a powerful
need from me. Granted I'd used a very strategically placed kick to incapacitate
Pete, but I'd never once wanted to kill him for what he'd done or for what he'd
intended to do.

All the queen saw was my moment of hesitation. And she
smiled, as if satisfied she'd won already. She spun the pair of swords above
her, curved blades whirring around her head, so threatening, so intimidating.
Whatever she was trying to do was so not working. Her short stature and her
grotesquely grimacing face melded together—more amusing than threatening. I
wanted to chuckle, but all this posturing was wasting my time.

Okay, witch. Two can play this game. Enough with the
dramatics already.

I drew my sword, reveling in the sound of pure music the
blade generated as it sang for me. Relief flooded through me as I registered
the sword's song. Not dull or muffled anymore.

I could hear again.

When I drew the second sword strapped to my back, the queen
did a double take, her face shifting to cold, stony hatred. Poor queen. I'd
just stolen her double-sworded thunder. She flexed her knees, waiting for my
next move. The numerous little tables, covered in random candles and trinkets,
vases and weapons, made circling her much harder.

I leapt forward, swinging hard, and landed a blow to the
flat of her sword, following quickly with a wide swipe with my other sword.
Metal screamed against metal, echoing around the room loud enough to hurt our
already sensitive ears. The power of the blow vibrated through the blade and
into her arm, but she flared her nostrils and took it in her stride.

I circled her, brushing against a trinket-filled table. It
tipped over, eliciting an angry growl from the queen as glass shattered and
tinkled. She thrust and I deflected, and we danced a double flamenco of swords
for a few minutes, neither tiring, neither winning.

Mika, meanwhile, did nothing. A few quick glances confirmed
that she just stood by and watched, a strange, indecipherable expression on her
face. Had the queen's taunts and insults hurt Mika so badly?

I hadn't tired yet, didn't need my Ulfr to win the fight.
But if she wanted to, she could have ended it right then and there. One strike
with her sword would fell the queen, and we could be out and free in minutes. I
frowned, trying to catch Mika's eye as I circled the queen again.

No luck.

With no help from Mika, I forced my attention back to my
attacker, assessing the best way to end this skirmish. And I soon came full
circle, back to the one thing I'd sworn I wouldn't do. Thor's words hit me like
Mjölnir to my skull: "You must kill the queen. Decapitate her."

Ugh. No way. Heads and bodies were just meant to stay
together, thanks.

I wanted to find another way, anything to avoid that awful
act. I'd intended to get in, get the goblet and get right out. But things never
seemed to go according to my plan.

The queen lunged forward, one blade missing my cheek by a
hairsbreadth, the other nicking the dark leather of my jacket. That did it. I
had to end it. Back in Asgard, the idea of assassinating her had revolted me,
but right now, it was becoming increasingly clear that I'd have to end this
awful queen's life in order to save mine.

I studied Queen Huld as she ran through her repertoire,
pushed her to see what moves she'd respond with, then retreated to watch how
she attacked. And I soon found a way past her defenses.

Lunging forward, I thrust hard, and the queen deflected. But
the impact of my long solid blade on her short curved one sent her
backpedalling. And sent a strange and animalistic need surging through me. I
watched her, emotionless, knowing exactly what would happen before it did.

The wild wind-milling of her arms shifted her wig. One inch
too much. With her line of sight hampered, the queen struggled to shove strands
of hair out of her eyes with the heel of her hand. She didn't see me spin
around, didn't see me land on a balled foot and swing wide in a low arc.

Too late she shoved the hair aside, in time to see the blade
close in. Unable to avoid the deadly edge, the queen stilled, eyes bulging with
horror as my blade bit into the skin of her neck.

I expected the blade to stick, to shudder against her
leathery skin and her evil bones, but the sharp edge slid through her body like
a knife through a slice of cheesecake. A little resistance, but not enough to
stop the infinitely sharp blade in its tracks.

For a few seconds the queen stared back at me, an expression
of confusion and disbelief in her dying eyes. Then her head tilted backwards
and fell onto the carpet with a sickening thump, rolling a few feet. As Queen
Huld's head rolled, it smeared thick red blood all over the beautifully
hand-woven carpets.

Blood still thundered through my veins, a pounding waterfall
of hot relief. A part of me sizzled with energy, thrilled to have ended this
wicked witch's life. The other part of me swallowed bile, squelching down a
river of nausea that refused to be dammed.

As I gulped down my horror, Sarah leaped toward me, a
picture of happiness on the girl's face. She jerked to a full halt as the
queen's head continued its roll, only to stop right at her feet. One foot
twitched the tiniest bit. Was she as driven by revenge as I would have been?
Would she plant her foot into the macabre head of the dead queen?

Though she'd looked about ready to give the head a swift
kick, instead Sarah bent and grabbed it by the hair. Bad move. The wig came
loose, and the head fell from the confines of the hairpiece with a small thud.
Sarah cast her eyes around the room and rushed to the bed to relieve a
burnt-orange silk pillowslip of its cushion inner.

The doors crashed open and the queens' guards rushed back
into her chamber, swords brandished, ready to fight. On seeing Queen Huld dead
and decapitated, they halted, scanning the queen's chamber. I gripped my sword
hilt, so ready to fight, but the guards seemed confused, disoriented. Neither
one of them looked eager to avenge their queen's death. I tensed, keeping a wary
eye on them as Sarah rolled the head into the pillowslip and twisted the open
end closed with a loose knot.

Strange.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"The best way to make sure she never comes back is to
take her into the sunlight. Dwarfs cannot survive the sunlight. Once the light
touches their skin they solidify, they become stone." Her voice quavered
at first, then steadied.

I didn't bother to tell her I already knew how to
permanently end the life of a dwarf. "Fine," I said. "Let's go
before the entire palace figures out the banshee queen is dead. And before the
entire royal guard descends on us, screaming vengeance."

Not that I expected that vengeance would be on the guard's
minds. At least not the two who were now resheathing their swords. Their eyes darted
from me to Sarah to the bloody pillowcase. But then they turned and trotted out
of the chamber, leaving us to stare at their departing backs. One of the guards
ambled toward the chaise longue and casually snatched up a handful of fruit
from the queen's silver platter. He grinned as he walked outside without a
backward glance at what remained of his mistress.

Mika watched in disbelief as they left, raising an eyebrow
at me when I met her eye. So far, no squadron of guards had come running in
response to the queen's painful scream. Strange, but I wasn't about to question
our good fortune.

Sarah handed me the cloak. "You don't have to worry
about those two guards. They are her personal attendants, and if anything, they
probably hate her more than I do."

I didn't plan on sticking around in case they changed their
minds, though. I flung the cloak over my shoulders and pulled Sarah against my
side. Mika stiffened, her eyes narrowing almost to slits. I felt a stab of
regret that I'd thought first of the girl and not of Mika. But the cloak had
just enough room for two, and Sarah was untrained and unarmed, except for the
bagged head.

"Go, I will follow," Mika said, her voice so cold
I almost flinched. I threw her a searching glance, but she returned my concern
with a brief smile and just nodded toward the door.

A surge of fear struck me as we stepped into the deserted
corridor. As much as I'd paid attention to the route as we made our way here, I
now came up with a total blank.

"Damn." I gritted my teeth, mentally kicking
myself for my lack of strategy. Fen would so not like this.

Sarah tensed, her tiny fist tightening around the silky
fabric. "What?" she asked.

"I can't remember how to get out of here." My
heart sank as I flicked a glance back at Mika, straggling a few yards behind
us. "And even if I can find the way, we'll need to make another trip
through the eating hall, too." I still found it strange that we weren’t
yet on the run from hordes of vengeful dwarfs.

To my surprise, the girl's lips formed a tight, thin smile.
"Do not worry. I can get you out of here. I have lived in this dungeon for
almost a century. I know my way around, but we should hurry. Only those two
guards know the queen is dead, and they are happy enough. But any guards we
encountered on our way out would still be terrified of the queen's wrath. They
would apprehend anyone running around the palace."

I nodded at her beneath the cloak, then peeked out at Mika
from between the slits in the fabric. "Mika?"

"Yes, I heard. Let us be going." She scowled.
"And let us hope the human will not lead us into further trouble."

"Let's go, then." We set a brisk pace, unable to
run under the cover of the cloak but just about managing to speed up to a trot.

The thud of bootsteps from around the corner brought us to a
panicked halt. We waited in the shadows at the intersection until the band of
guards passed. Mika snuck past us to check for stragglers, and I used the delay
to glance at the girl beside me. She stood there so calm and collected, and in
that moment I felt a rush of admiration for her.

I realized then that I'd been thinking of her as
"Sarah" all along, based on the dwarfs' chants, but I could have been
wrong. "What's your name?" I whispered.

"Sarah. Sarah McLean," she answered, eyes on the
corridor ahead.

"How did you end up here, Sarah?" The echoes of
footsteps slowly faded in the distance.

"I met this gentleman at a ball in London. He was nice,
nicer than the lecherous old fools I had to contend with. I think I was perhaps
a bit too fond of him." Her voice faltered. "He wanted to take me to
visit his family, before we married. So he brought me here. And introduced me
to his mother. You just met her."

Sarah raised and lowered the bag in her hand, and shrugged,
her eyes filled with sorrow and regret.