Throne of Scars (13 page)

“Took over?” I asked with a frown. “You mean—”

Itax tapped his finger on my forehead. “Ripped their minds out, and made them bow to him. They turned and ordered their armies to attack Stheno’s, who was only then getting up.
Now
there was fire, yes. The beast attacked through Stheno’s army, and exhaled poison and dark fire across the cavern, and thousands fell, while the armies fought each other. Then the beast turned its greedy eyes to the Horn on Stheno’s side. She lifted the Scepter of the Night. The dragon’s spells were useless. He cast fire and lighting and Stheno laughed at him. She removed her hood, and her eyes almost killed the dragon. She nearly, very nearly turned the dragon to stone with those terrible orbs. He looked away, and attacked. They fought a terrible battle of claws, fangs, and Scepter. And there it was. The dragon is
not
First Born. He ripped at the gorgon, but the gorgon fought him spell to claw, and hurt the beast badly. In the battle, the dragon got lucky, though. Battling her, Stheno was pushed off a ledge, and she lost the Horn. Lost it. Fell from her hands. Imagine that! She is a First Born, and gods, but I have rarely seen anyone fight a dragon like she did. To lose the Gjallarhorn due to clumsiness, though, is worth a thousand mocking songs by the best of the bards. The dragons, Ban, and the others retreated and fled, and the war began across the Vastness and the tunnels.”

“How old are you?” I asked him. It was impossible to decide, and I noticed he looked immediately younger, as if he’d reacted to my question. “You don’t—”

“You already know I’m not what I look like. I’m old to you. Old to mistress here,” he said softly and bowed. “Old is old. It’s not subjective. I’m older than most of the kings of the Vastness. But back to the business before the mistress removes my throat. There is now a War of the Eight Cities. Scardark fights Ban and the two other cities, and Stheno’s allies are trying their best to beat the dragon’s armies. A queen of one city died last week, another lost a king yesterday in an ambush. There is a cruel stalemate in Svartalfheim.”

“What has the dragon done with the Horn?” I asked him, holding my head.

He clicked his fingernails together again.

Shannon answered. “Not a thing.”

“He can use it, though? The First Born can, can’t they?” I asked.

“They can,” she noted. “But the dragon is not First Born. Itax just told us.”

Itax slammed his feet on the floor to chase off a big spider, a look of disgust on his face. “Excuse me,” he snorted. “Hate them. Lizards, spiders, snakes. I hate the lot. Now the Queen here is probably right. The dragon might wish to blow it, but perhaps it cannot? It hasn’t. It hasn’t sought out any of the old, closed gates. It might mean the beast has business in Svartalfheim, it might mean he cannot use the Horn. What he is planning, I know not. But he wants something.”

“Tell him, Itax,” Shannon said. “I bore of the banter.”

“Yes, mistress,” Itax said.

“Mistress of mercenaries,” I muttered.

He looked at me unkindly, probably thinking where to stick a dagger in. There was a cruel streak in him and he didn’t like humans any more than elves did. “There’s this bit of news,” he said, “that while Ban’s and Stheno’s armies are busily butchering each other across the Vastness, they are also talking. They are negotiating. Stheno will want the Gjallarhorn. The dragon wants something else.”

“What might it want?” I wondered.

“See, how you despise a mercenary, and yet wonder at the news one brings,” he smiled humorlessly. “Yes, Stheno’s discussing. She’s desperate to end the war.”

“What
does
the dragon want in return?” I asked.

“That I do know as well,” he said. “He wants the Scepter of Night.”

“Why?” Shannon asked.

He shrugged. “The dragon has not shared his reasons.”

Shannon frowned. “Are you sure you do not know?”

He threw up his hands. “I do not! It’s an ancient thing, and little is known about it. I—”

I slammed my hand on the chair. He looked at me as if I had broken a holy artifact. He was developing a serious dislike for me. I spoke. “And you said you are older than the old.”

“I
do not
know!” he yelled, totally losing his composure. “I have
no
idea. I’m not privy to everything and Nött held the thing close. She didn’t share its secrets.”

“Have you
seen
the goddess?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement.

“She’s gone,” he answered. “Forget Nött.”

“What was she like?” I pressed.

He sighed and slumped. “Goddess of the Aesir, Vanir? I know not. She set the rules, much like Freyr did here. Elves fought to be the Regent, and there, kings and queens fought to keep or take a throne, and once dead, a king and a queen lost all their soldiers and holdings to the winner and so it went on. Deaths by battle were many, but she dispensed justice if one, for example, killed the family of the deceased king. Thieves loved Nött. Her city was a thing of shadows and deadly games. Nött was … exciting. I do not know if she took sides in Hel’s War.”

“Where did she go?” Shannon asked.

“Asgaard, they say, summoned by Odin for the war.” Itax frowned. “No more questions, please. I may act like I know many things. I charge well for sharing secrets, but I don’t know
everything
about history of the kings and queens, and damned thrones. I do not. Can you forgive me? Now shall we move on?”

“Yes,” Shannon whispered. “But do not spin tales, Itax of No House. I’ve been told tales plenty in my past. I killed Euryale for it.”

His eyes went to Famine and he bowed low. “I am sorry, mistress. I’ll do better. In any case, Stheno isn’t giving up the Scepter. If the dragon wants it, then it would surely be a bad idea to let go of it. Instead, she is seething to kill the dragon. Armies are gathering. She is collecting all her allies into Scardark shortly.”

We sat there quietly, until Shannon turned. “We have to get the Scepter. And then we’ll trade it for the Horn.”

I sighed. “You want us to fetch it?
Stheno
holds it. She literally holds it. No way does she let go of it, even to wipe her shapely ass.”

“Yes, she does,” she whispered. “She keeps it close. But still, you will get it. Then you will deal with Ban and the dragon, and you will get me the Horn. Speak, Itax.”

“So, Kiera will lead the party to the Scardark,” I said and eyed Itax, “and—”

“And you
have
to make it in three days,” the svartalf said thinly. “It takes but a day if you use the Way of Echoes, but slightly more, if you take the side tunnels.”

I shook my head. “Three?”

He smiled. “Yes. Three days, or it will be too late. The war will have begun. You must leave tomorrow.”

“Will you guide us?” I asked him, unhappy not knowing anything about the plan.

He shook his head. “I’m not risking my neck any more than I must. The Screaming Pit is not a place for a holiday, and that’s where you go if you get caught skulking around the tunnels with the enemy. And so you will use your guides. I heard you have some. But it’s three days, or you can turn back and come here to die.”

“And then what?” I asked.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“And how in Hel’s name shall we get the Scepter out? And how will we find the Masked One?”

Itax smiled. “As I said, they shall feast. After this, they shall pray to the gods in the Oxarath, the Arched Temple. It is a holy place—”

“Temples are, you longwinded bastard,” I muttered.

“Holy place,” he went on, “and—”

Shannon shook her head. “Kiera will know, Ulrich. You trust her, and fight for her. We shall make it.”

“Stheno holds it,” I growled. “We cannot kill her. She
is
First Born.”

Shannon looked me in the eye. “Kiera will steal it. Itax knows how. Then he’ll take you out of Scardark. You and Thak, and Ittisana, will all have your part to play in the theft and the negotiations.”

I stared at her eyes, and she stared at mine. She had promised. Nothing dishonorable. So I agreed, because she was my friend. “Three days,” I said.

Itax sighed and got up. “Finally. Indeed. Am I dismissed then?”

“You can go, Itax. You know the plans,” she said. “They’ll leave tomorrow. Ittisana will guide them. Thak and Ulrich will guard them. Kiera will lead them. And Cosia will come along in chains.”

“Cosia?” I asked her with surprise. “Why? She is—”

She looked at me and didn’t answer. I felt uncomfortable and glanced at Itax, who had smiled, but the smile disappeared from his lips. There was something odd about the whole situation.

Itax slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Get to the gates of Scardark. Crawl in shit, but get there. I’ll find you there. The Way of Echoes is dangerous, but fast. If it is uncontested, use it. If not, find less travelled ways. Let gods guide you. Nött’s luck on you.” He stole a bottle of wine, and left.

I waited.

Shannon turned, her face drawn. She looked down, staring at her hand. There was a brief frown as she looked at the yellow and white joints. There was the old Shannon, the new Shannon and both fought each other. After some time had passed, she spoke hollowly. “I’ve done things that would make you wither from me.”

“Perhaps,” I said softly. “Yes.”

“Anja, and maybe Albine? They are all my enemies now. Even Dana,” she said.

“Your allies are mighty loyal,” I said neutrally and sighed. “And I am one of them. Though I cannot forget what you have done. Let the Horn mend you.”

She smiled. The dead thing could smile. She saw it and waved her bony hand. “Oh, just like the dead grave power, they can enjoy themselves. I told you. We enjoy the joy of a party, a feast, we dance. Have you seen the draugr? They dance, they listen to songs like children. They captured an elven bard the other week. They had him play until he died, and then I had to raise him and there he is, still playing.” She giggled and I nodded, trying to smile, but I failed and she saw it. “You will have to trust me. I trust you, most of all.”

“You cannot win in Aldheim,” I murmured. “You’ll die here. Come with us.”

She shook her head. “I cannot. I have to defend the city. Lose it, and you never take it again. And yes, I know you would prefer to lose it, but I cannot. So you need to hurry,” she said and smiled.

The plan was suicidal. “Cosia?”

She nodded. “She’ll be needed. Kiera knows.”

“Kiera knows everything,” I muttered angrily. “And I just follow.”

“Yes.”

I wanted to complain. “We need a distraction,” I found myself saying instead. “Draugr.”

“I’ll spare some thousands of them for that,” she answered. “I know the gate’s guarded.”

“Can you afford to?” I asked her. “The Regent will attack soon. Shinna was scouting.”

“Not yet, he won’t. He needs his allies,” Shannon said softly, clearly unsure if she was telling the truth. “They attack us, but I’ve not been idle. I hunt his lords in the night. It will take them time to get ready. A week? I think so. Coodarg and the others agree. And I have other servants you don’t know about. They walk the shadows every night, up there, spying. The elves are suffering like we suffer. Supplies for so many take time to gather and secure. But it all hinges on your party now.”

“The plan I don’t know is a good one? Unlikely to succeed, but still possible?” I asked, begging she would have one I could live with.

“Yes,” she answered. “You will see it all blossom.”

I got up and she did as well. “Tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she answered, and tilted her head. She stepped forward and placed her good hand on mine. “I thank you, Ulrich. Trust Kiera.”

“What is she?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “You need to put a label on everything?”

“I know draugr. I know there are spirits, ghosts. What is she?”

“Powerful,” she answered, holding my hand. “She is less than I am, not nearly as terrible. I am the Hand of Hel and the Queen of all the dead in this land. I do what I must. She does more. She loves the hunt. She goes out in the night, and she feeds. Be careful. Don’t cross her. She executes my will. And yet, should I do as you asked? Take the Horn to Asgaard and ignore Hel? She might not obey me. When I raised her, I tried to raise a draugr. I felt the spell take over, and I think Hel herself poured something into the spell. She thrust her to me. She obeys me, but does she obey Hel more? We will see.”

“Yes, Shannon,” I said, terrified of travelling with Kiera, despite my confused feelings for her. I tried to leave, but she pulled my hand and stepped close to me. She didn’t smell of death, but roses, and she hugged me. I felt her breathless body crush itself against mine, and I knew she was afraid and lost, and I, feeling a strange mix of revulsion and friendship, knew I’d go to Helheim if I could help her, no matter what she had done.

She had given everything for us.

“I will achieve it all,” I said with as much hope I had.

She pulled away, smiled, and kissed my lips, and touched my beard fondly. “I know,” she said sadly, and I wondered if she could see in advance what would happen. “Please forgive me everything I’ve done. And might still do.” She put a hand on my chest, and pulled at my tunic. There, the wound Kiera had given me. She frowned at it and tapped my face. “Take the Iron Trial with you. You might need it.”