Throne of Scars (11 page)

She wanted to join what she called ‘fine sport’.

I drew in a deep, surprised breath as she nuzzled close to me. She didn’t do it for warmth, because she was cold, but because she wanted to.

I saw a fireball go up in the city and knew someone had died.
Perhaps a child?
And at that I could no longer keep my mouth shut. “Can you explain this to me. There are tens of thousands of humans living there, twice the number of elves. They are getting killed. What for, if she is defending the place?”

She caressed my face. “She is not an evil queen, is she? It is all part of the plans she has to execute every day. Trust her.”

“She is killing
children
. I don’t know what she is,” I said angrily, pushing her hands away. “She was my enemy in Euryale’s tower, and her sister especially was one for the grave. And then she tried so hard to save us all, and it cost her her life. I loved her well until she came back. That night, when the battle was over and the surviving elves were there, by the wall? She claimed to put an end to elven brutality. It seems to me she has to burn down the
whole
of Aldheim to keep that promise. There are millions of people and elves living in the Spell Coast. What is she trying to do? And in truth, she cannot do
anything
but kill the helpless in Himingborg! It’s nothing but cruel and mad! The only thing she is doing is butchering people who can barely fight. They have families out there in the south part. We are here, besieged. I think we just have to get the Horn and forget the war. Defend and keep the fort, and—”

She spoke softly, “And you worry, when I told you not to. Have faith. Every death has a meaning. The Horn is what she needs, but before that, she
will
bring justice to Aldheim. She will take down
all
the high elven houses and make them live in peace with each other. She’ll give them justice.”

“She is delusional,” I said as Kiera turned to look up at me. “It is an impossible task, of course, even for her. There are simply too many elves out there. And is it her task, or does Hel demand it?”

“Hel?” she said with a smile. “Ulrich, do not challenge Hel. Trust Shannon. She has a plan we don’t know much about. Wait. Help her.”

“She does have a plan,” I agreed. “And I agreed to help her. I’ll get her the Horn. But I’ll not go killing
anyone
for no reason. I just slaughtered hundreds. Almost Anja!”

“And Dana,” she said. “You will get Dana.”

“I—” I began and faltered. “No.”

“
No
?” she asked, surprised, her face close to me. “We’ll see. Recovering the Horn might mean you will have to kill what you consider innocents. Be prepared for that.”

“Let the gods judge Dana,” I told her while she looked up at me, her eyes red and full of cunning, and perhaps a touch of care as she smiled gently. “I’ll only help with the Horn, as I said. And I shall not kill any innocents.”

She nodded heavily. “She’ll be upset if you don’t obey her to the letter. She has too many people challenging her already. But of course you will get the Horn and that is the end of it. You promised.”

I frowned and held her face. “
Will
she give it to Hel then?”

“She says she will.”

“Will she?” I demanded. “The Eye of Hel drove Cerunnos mad. The Horn might drive her mad. And Hel might spend an eternity punishing the worlds. There might not be any elven houses living in peace with each other. Unless she means to settle them all in Helheim.”

“Then she shall do what she will and that’s all there is to it,” she hissed. “But in the end, all will be well. I told you not to tangle with Hel. Do not!”

“Well?” I snorted, not heeding her words. “I have
no
faith in Hel. Men make deals back in Earth. Some go sour, wars are waged, people die, mostly innocents, and so it is here as well. It seems everyone seeks to be a god. Everyone desires mighty toys to gain power over the worlds. When Shannon gets the Horn,
will
she truly give it to Hel? What if she keeps it? What if she decides to bargain with the gods, or this thing that she’s become decides she wants to rule Aldheim for good, just like Cerunnos Timmerion wanted. What if Hel forces her to take war from one to another, until nothing is left? Shannon might … change more than we think.

I shut my mouth and turned away.
I’m an idiot. Shannon surely heard me.

I looked at Kiera. She’d be forced to tell her.

No. I’d speak my thoughts to her myself, finally.

Kiera smiled and looked over the lands. “You have so many doubts. I wonder if you should go at all. But no, you must. We need you. And we all change. Who is to say
Ulrich
will not claim the Horn to make sure Shannon and Hel won’t be tempted to make a pisspot out of it? Perhaps such a decision will destroy thousands of people in ways Ulrich could not anticipate?”

I shrugged, tired of the topic. “Or you? You might be tempted to bargain for your life, or death.”

She pulled me along to the tower not far, where the doorway beckoned with open darkness. “They are ready. And I might be tempted, Ulrich. Though as time passes since my resurrection into this lifeless body, I find I enjoy it, occasionally. But you are right. We all can be tempted. She is sending us all there to keep an eye on each other. And like all the dead, I have my compulsions, my hidden goals, and some you will never know about, even if you know about some.” She gave me a coy smile. “It was a good night.”

“What did you do to me, when you pricked me?” I asked, spoiling her mood.

“Marked you as my own,” she muttered angrily. “Don’t worry about it. Is that the tenth time I’ve said that today? You are becoming tedious, even to a patient undead.”

I walked after her, or rather, was dragged, and spoke frantically as the door got close. “Perhaps Shannon is sending me, because she thinks she cannot trust herself. Maybe she hoped I would return the thing to the gods on my own?” I said.

“If you try, I’ll kill you,” she said sweetly. “Go in. I have to go to the city.”

“Which city?” I asked, fidgeting at the doorway. “And what for?”

“The one across,” she answered. “To do what I must,” she added and a darkness enveloped her. She disappeared from sight, and I sensed rather than saw a shapeless darkness shoot across the wall.

I turned to the doorway.

It opened and the light of candles shone inside.

“Enter, Ulrich, my friend, and let her feed in peace,” said a tingling voice I knew to be Shannon’s.

Feed?

I went in.

T
he room was furnished, unlike much of the keep. No draugr had laid their hands there, but curiously, they had brought a tithe of their treasure to their Queen. I stopped at the doorway to stare at the scene before me. A pair of candles burned lazily on the desk. Shannon was standing in the doorway to an adjacent room, looking at an incredible sight. In that room, heaps of gold, artifacts of silver and other precious metals glittered in a huge pile that was not unlike a small house. She was humming to herself, moving gently from side to side, as she stared at the loot. It was the robbed riches of the high house of Safiroon, and it bothered me.

              Some of it was obviously bloody.

Apparently, none of that bothered her. Perhaps she, like the dead, coveted such treasure. It looked like that was the case.

She kneeled down and let some treasure drop through her skeletal fingers. Coins and jewelry fell with metallic clinking sounds to the floor. She was nodding to herself as she spoke. “Enough to buy an army.”

Army? She was thinking about hiring mercenaries. “But no army to be had, eh?” I asked. “We are stuck.”

She picked up a ruby the size of her hand, and stared at it with a squint. “Most of it comes from Svartalfheim. It’s the place for riches, the land below.”

“Below,” I agreed and walked to stand in the middle of the room. “I heard of Below. Svartalfheim is close to Aldheim, Ittisana said.”

“And so,” Shannon whispered, and I saw she clutched Famine, the black dagger of Hel, “I shall do as you ask, my lady. I will hate it, I will weep in my strange dreams, since I cannot weep while awake, and I’ll do it. May they all forgive me.”

“Shannon?” said, wondering if there was someone else there in the room. I paced across the red carpet, trying to see into the room, but saw no one.

She got up, and turned to look at me. She nodded, as if noticing me for the first time, and put away her dagger, though reluctantly, it seemed. She glanced around her study. “How do you like it, Ulrich?”

I looked around. It was splendidly furnished and richer than any king’s, no doubt. And yet, it was, like the rest of the north Himingborg, dead and lifeless, bereft of joyful laughter and life, save for the mice, spiders, and rats. The room would have been cozy enough, like a forgotten and dusty living room, if not for the dark spirit living in there, and I felt sorry for thinking like that. “It is nice, I suppose,” I said instead, and hoped she didn’t search my thoughts. She moved to the bed, and sat down. It was made, never used. She let her hand rest on it and she smiled as she looked at it. While she had said she dreamt, perhaps she needed no bed to do so. The obvious conflict of Shannon enjoying the silk-draped bed and her inability to use it made my heart ache. I also noticed a heap of plates, and smelled mold and a whiff of rancid meat in the room. There, on a side table, dinners had been served. She still ordered them, but left them to molder on the desk. Her eyes turned that way and she smiled.

“Pitiful?” she asked and stared at the table. “It is hard to let go. I miss food and drink.”

I nodded and gazed into her eyes. “Don’t let go.”

“Oh,” she answered and got up from the bed. “Why not?”

I squared my shoulders. “They say you still …drink.”

She stopped and her eyes looked deep into mine with near hypnotic intensity. “And I assume you mean blood?”

“Like Kiera,” I said, holding my position.

She chuckled. “Ah, but you are something else. Thak eats flesh,
any
flesh. Ittisana as well. But your Shannon, your friend mustn’t drink blood. I drink it. It is full of life, and life I crave. I need it not, but it is pleasurable.”

“Pleasure,” I murmured and Shannon looked annoyed. It was dangerous to annoy the Hand of Hel, but I had decided to speak my mind, and so I would.

She pushed her hair back, the skeletal hand and the fingers white and unsettling, and I couldn’t but help stare at them. Hel had taken away her Bone Fetter, and left her with the curse of Rot in that hand. I wanted to be nowhere near it. “Pleasure, Ulrich. Are you so cruel that the dead cannot enjoy at all? They do find pleasure. We do. I do. We love, we gossip, we laugh and we …”

“Kill,” I ended for her and kept going, before she lost her temper and killed me. “I wish your pleasures were familiar to me.” I looked down, and waited. There she was, her eyes gleaming in the semi-dark, her savage eyes staring at me. She said nothing, but pulled out a chair, where she reclined, staring at me. I felt a tingling sensation as she wove together a spell, and the torches set on wall sconces flared to life around me. I squinted and held a hand over my eyes, stumbling back, until my hands found a chair, which I pulled at. “I assume I can sit in your presence?” I bit my lip, not sure where my unhappiness would take me.

She was my friend,
I reminded myself.

She snorted. “I’m the Queen, Ulrich. Don’t assume anything. But you may sit. I would not want to give you more to complain about. I hear you complain
plenty.
”

“I complain a lot, Shannon,” I said, and added. “My Queen.”

She adjusted her dark robes. “I have missed it, for some odd reason. Your surly nature that is. You had a surprise in Haven?” she asked me, though the question was rhetoric, because she knew all about it. The dead had swarmed the Haven, against their past laws, and had torn the floors and ceilings out, searching for similar ways to breach the city. There were bound to be more, and so, Shannon was fortifying the Shining City. She was groping for her chest, her eyes flickering for the wound that had once killed her.

Did it hurt?
I wondered.

She had had her heart broken, literally, when Thak saved her from Euryale by thrusting the Eye of Hel in her hand and splitting her heart with her own sword. He had sent her to Helheim, but there she was now, the Queen of the Draugr, the Hand of Hel and still, there was a bit of her old self behind those red eyes and pale skin.

I waved my hand that way. “We fought them off. We managed it, barely. Had little time for reading, though.”

“I hear you
more
than managed,” she smiled viciously, and made me frown. She looked at me steadily until I nodded in agreement, and she went on. “I hear your artifact saved you all.”

I fidgeted. I had no idea what Thak or Ittisana might have told her. “It was strange, Shannon. It had been rebellious before, but it was beyond my control. It was so powerful.”

She sighed and seemed pleased. “You are lucky. We have hundreds of artifacts looted from the fallen armies and the city, but only some useful ones. Gods know what artifacts Stheno has, or the dragon.”

I shrugged. “The dragon probably raided Euryale’s tower before it left. Took everything with it, eh?” I faltered and cursed. “The Dark Prayer?”

She said nothing and nodded.

I cursed. The mirror had allowed Euryale to travel across the land, though it drained maa’dark mightily. And Dana had used some part of it, a smaller mirror to open a door for Euryale when she had betrayed Shannon. “I hope the dragon doesn’t know how to use it.”

“He does,” she said. “At least he cannot use it to cross worlds. But did you find anything before you were rudely interrupted in Haven?”

I hesitated, and wondered what she meant. She had news, that was for sure. Hopefully good news. I spoke, “We were looking for books. Maps. Found one. I suppose Ittisana has it. They tried to teach me about arts and mysteries of the world, but I ended up learning little. Except how to kill a hundred elves.” The thought of the burned elves made my belly churn, no matter what they had wanted to do with us.

She sighed. “We are going to have many such attacks soon. My husband is infiltrating the city as best he can. Hannea is there, with her spell, looking like the Hand of Life, and he is collecting many swords under his banners. He gave a speech the other night. A draugr heard it. He claimed to smite down the common threat to their life with a brutal hand. He said he’d chase me to Helheim and back, if he had to.” She smiled coldly. “In truth, he wants to be cured of the Rot. I hear it is already eating at his chin. It was a fine chin; I remember it well when he claimed me for that one night. He’ll be uglier than the draugr soon. He’ll be here shortly.”

I rapped my fingers on the chair. “The Regent probably worries about the visage in the mirror, but he
is
fighting for their survival, as well,” I said harshly and her eyes turned my way with a glimmer of amusement. “I’m sorry,” I added, “but he will not let you purge the elves and bring … Hel’s justice in Aldheim.”

“Ah, my speech,” she said. “I
did
promise it, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I muttered. “But will you really murder millions? Is not the Horn enough?”

She said nothing.

I shifted nervously. “You say nothing.”

“I know nothing, Ulrich,” she whispered. “I said what I said. I hate the elves. So does Hel. Hel hates
everyone
.” She clutched Famine on her belt and went quiet.

I shook my head at her dilemma. “She demands things from you.”

She nodded. “She has given me a lot as well. As for the elves, I know not. I will think about it.”

I knew she would not promise me anything and pressed on. “Even if you changed your mind, you hate them, as you said. You have an agenda to kill them. A terrible agenda you—Hel’s thing—no longer see as murder and evil. If you promise me not to wage war on them, your undead impulses might demand you kill them anyway. I don’t like this situation. I’m to help you, but you cannot promise—”

“I don’t make promises anymore, Ulrich. Never again. As for my … impulses? They might indeed make me change my mind, should I make a promise,” she said humorlessly. “I think it might be just to purge the bastards from Aldheim.”

“The Horn,” I said sternly. “The Horn, Shannon. I beg of you. Return it to Hel, no matter whatever else she demands. That should satisfy her, yes? Then hide, until things change.”

She instinctively clutched the blade again. She sat there, before me, struggling with an answer. It was a long struggle, one where she opened her mouth many times, and in the end, she finally shook her head. “I will. I will get the Horn. And then, I’ll fight against what I, and Hel, wants to do and try to do as you say.”

“How much time do we have?” I asked, relieved and filled with a glimmer of hope.

She waved her bony hand, as if to say we had all the time in the world. In truth, she didn’t know. 

“And how do you plan to keep the city?” I added.

She murmured something and actually looked offended. “You saw what I did to Til Safiroon?”

The arch-mage
. “Yes, I did,” I said neutrally, and didn’t say what I meant to say. I meant to call her a cruel bitch. “It was unnecessary.”

She grimaced. “No, it wasn’t. All that war I make, all the terror I spread, all of it makes perfect sense. The stories they tell to each other of death and grotesque murders? That makes them fearful, no matter how many there are up there. They count their swords and spears and then they hear how a part of the city was destroyed by the draugr. They think they’ll need more swords. They hear stories of the flaying of the living, and of armless corpses hanging from beams, and they will want to gather more spears. They are terrified I have a plan to trap them, to destroy them with some horrible surprise. Didn’t I release Hel’s Seed, and raise their dead allies in front of their eyes? No, Ulrich. All the women and children and elves who do die, die for a purpose that serves us. We are running out of time. And
I
am giving us some.”

“When you have the Horn, how will you get it to Hel? I—”

“I will deal with it,” Shannon said thinly and I shut my mouth. We stared at each other uncomfortably, and there was no old Shannon, not then, to argue with. Her eyes were like a wild animal’s and fear made me hold my breath.

I noticed I was doing it, and forced out a cough. “I signed up to your war, your side, because you are my friend. I signed up, so I could help you and perhaps Aldheim. I thought the goal was to please Hel, and she might let you go. Let the Nine Worlds go!”

“She will let them go,” she hissed, “She will.”

“Perhaps you should return the Horn to Asgaard,” I said, braving much. “Perhaps you can find the gate, and return it.”

She stared at me. “And betray my maker? I already promised I’d give it to her as soon as I get it. Don’t push further, friend.”

“Very well,” I said.

She sat there quiet, contemplating my words. Surely she had heard them before, especially as I spoke to Kiera, but now she was clearly making up her mind on something. On my life, on her plans? I’d find out in a bit.

“I know not,” she said softly. “It is on the table, Ulrich. Everything is possible,” she said. “But first, we need the Horn. Nothing else matters. Do you agree?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

She flickered in the air, vanished, and then I felt her presence behind me, and a hand on my shoulder. “Horn it is, and you will trust me with the rest. Know I do not willingly wish to slay millions. And I know Hel might prefer things I do not. Let me think on it.”