Throne of Scars (14 page)

“The giant is right. Wait? We cannot wait. They are out there, and not far.”

Cosia

T
he White Court was teaming with draugr. The silence was unsettling. We stood before the ruins of the once glorious temple. Now it was but stubs of stone and toppled pillars. The original shape of the structure was impossible to gauge. It had rained during the night, but the drizzle had been unable to wash off the signs of the deaths the day before. The bodies of the fallen svartalfs and beasts had been dragged away, leaving trails of dark red. It looked ominous.

              I looked around, trying to find Shannon.

              There were only the ranks of the terrible draugr.

Euryale and Stheno had stood on that very exact spot with Dana during the battle
, I thought. Right there before us. And now, I’d follow the gorgon and our fellow Ten Tear to the dark world, pursuing a plan I was not trusted with.

The Scepter for the Horn. That was the plan.
We’d steal it from Stheno, and deal with the dragon.
If
we made our way to Scardark in three days.

I snorted and broke the silence, making all the draugr turn their resentful dead eyes my way.

The dead rustled, muttering amongst themselves, their eyes gleaming in their thick ranks. They were not happy. They didn’t love me, nor did they embrace the plan with enthusiasm.

They were to make war. And they would not do well. They all knew it.

Lambs to the slaughter.
I wanted to mock them. I wanted to dance a mocking, gleeful dance before them and laugh at their ugly faces.

Instead, I turned to look at the gate. From afar, it couldn’t be seen, not really. But up close, you could glimpse it, catch it out of the corner of your eye. It was blue, then silvery, then near invisible. It had no edges, and I shuddered to think how the gods who had made it were stupid enough to create a key like Gjallarhorn, and then find there was no way to reach them after the key was lost. How long they must have simmered in Asgaard and Vanaheim, furious at their simple mistake? Would they know their arrogance cost them the worlds they so coveted? Did we all overestimate them, and all this death and effort to regain the Horn was for nothing?

Possibly.

Yet, possibly not.

If I succeeded, perhaps things
would
change.

The huge weight of the responsibility felt like a physical anchor on my back. I had lived in Austria, and worked hard all my life. I hadn’t been old enough to join the Austrian army that marched to Russia with Napoleon, nor did father let me join the army that invaded France in 1813. I had failed in my studies, and not been a particularly good journeyman for father’s carpentry business. I had been a passable thief, though father had not appreciated that career choice. When we had sailed to America, I had left behind mostly failures.

There, I had failed again.

In America, the family had rounded all us troubled ones together. Ron, Lex, and I. We were unhappy, tortured, dangerous. It was all because of the power we sensed, but could not touch. They had given us the choice to take the ancient road. We had. How could we not? Euryale was calling for us, her Dark Levy, and we had all felt that power briefly when the gate opened. I doubt anyone could refuse the bracelet, the Bone Fetter. I had whispered the words Father had uttered, while Ron and Lex had already accepted. He had pointed a finger at the corpse which was part of the evil ceremony. “Lap the blood, say ‘yes’ to the creature that will appear and reach out to our world, and keep an eye on your cousin and brother.” He had trusted me with that mission.

And I had failed to do so. “Shit.”

“What?” Thak asked, tense and alert.

“Nothing,” I answered. Lex was dead. Ron died the day we arrived, slain by Dana who saved Shannon. Ron had been a bastard. There was no denying it. He had been evil as the draugr, and had it coming. I had hated Dana for the murder, nonetheless. Later, I couldn’t blame Dana for it. But then, Dana was a bastard as well, for betraying Shannon. No matter how afraid she had been.

And the brothers?
Failure. I had failed.

I had sworn to Anja I’d help keep Dmitri and Alexei alive. Both were dead. I failed Anja. She hated Dana and Shannon, and took the side of those who mistreat humans. The elves. Hannea, our elven companion went with them as well.

I had survived. I took the side of the dead.

And now, finally, I was on the final quest.

Such trust to the one who never made a good choice, or whom luck constantly kicked in the balls.

No.
I must not fail this time.

Thak was next to me. He wore his pants, boots that guarded his legs rather well, gauntlets of black iron, giant sized, and he held a sword. It was a huge thing, crude, and probably came from the Jotuns that had died in the battle of the White Court. Some of them were draugr now, hulking and evil-looking, but Thak looked martial. I had no idea how his gear changed size with him. The clothing and armor and the sword stayed with him even if he took an animal form. Dverg gear, perhaps, or some odd magic of the Jotuns made that possible.

I was arrayed for war as well.

I had the mask on my belt. I flexed the iron gauntlets and wore an elvish chain mail that reached to my knees, iron reinforced boots, but I had no helmet. I hated helmets, could not see properly in them. And could not wear one, should I have to use the Iron Trial. Gods prevent
that
from being necessary.

I looked back at Kiera, who smiled. She was pale and as beautiful as the stars, in her black and red leather and chain armor, holding on to her sword. Behind her was Ittisana, in a very revealing chain skirt that left her thigh bare. She wore high boots, and a chain and a mail. She had a round metal shield with carved animals chasing each other around the rim, and a curved sword.

It was a good party,
I decided. I forced some optimism into my quarrelsome mindset. It was good enough to break into Scardark, steal the Scepter of Night, whatever it looked like, then escape the city with the help of Itax, and finally deal with a dragon for the Horn. Then the party would have to make it back to Aldheim, using whatever method or way it could.

We can do it. Unless we are betrayed.

And so I looked at the last member of the party, and frowned, feeling unreasonable hate swelling inside.

Why was she coming?

There was Cosia, the black-snake-haired, dangerous gorgon kin. She had been the captain of Euryale, captured by Shannon. She wore a Bone Fetter like I did, courtesy of Shannon. It had been the sort Euryale had used to control us, and Kiera held the ring now that could prevent her from Seeing the Shades, as the denizens of Svartalfheim called the connection to the magical streams.

She saw me staring and opened her fanged mouth with disdain. Except the mouth was not fanged. Her fangs were missing. What she had endured in Shannon’s hands, I knew not. She didn’t look well. She had been powerful and beautiful in the odd, gorgon kin way. She had looked both feminine and deadly, but now there were bruises all over her face and body, and old, unhealed wounds on her back. Cosia had been whipped, like a dog.

But her defiance was still there. “Pitiful group this,” she muttered and looked at the two thousand Draugr, who were again whispering as a draugr noble rode past them, sitting on a dead lizard mount.

“Shut up, your highness,” Ittisana said with a small, cruel smile, so unlike her. She pushed Cosia, making Cosia fall to her knees. There was a chain around Cosia’s wrists which Ittisana held, and she tightened it painfully. Cosia opened her mouth to say something, but closed it as Ittisana stared her down with fury. Cosia looked away, her black eyes shamed.

“You have trained her well,” Thak said happily. “Good. We don’t need trouble.”

Ittisana nodded. “I’m the mistress of her pain, if I need be. And Shannon has developed a taste for torture,” Ittisana said mirthlessly. “Cosia will not risk her fury again.” Cosia looked down, her face twitching with hate, but still she kept quiet.

I leaned to look at Cosia. “Scardark. You think we shall make it? Will you make trouble?”

She looked up at Ittisana, who shrugged, and Cosia spoke. “Trouble? No,” she answered bitterly, her snakes weaving and her half-lifeless eyes glinting. “Never again trouble. We shall do as the Queen pleases.” She looked up at me, and I felt strange unease at her long, begging look. She spoke on, as if having been deprived it for a long time. “But it shall be perilous the moment we enter. It’s a long way to the Vastness, through endless tunnels and evil traps. It’s wilderness where the gate stands, and few make the trip unless they have good company. And there will be svartalfs there, Jotuns, perhaps orcs.”

“Orcs?” I asked. “What—”

Ittisana hissed. “Stop complaining. We’ll do well.”

“Yes, mistress,” Cosia said miserably. “I am sorry.”

Ittisana slapped a hand on Cosia’s head, and pushed her away. “Moody bitch.”

“She’s nothing like she was once,” I murmured. “What did you do to her?”

Thak shook his head. “You are unhappy enough with Shannon. Don’t ask. Forget it. But in a bit, we will be in danger as she says. They will hunt us through the place. Happily, they also fight each other.”

I walked to Ittisana, who was staring at Cosia imperiously. She was usually an easy going, loving creature, but with Cosia, not so much. “When we arrive, where shall we go?”

She shrugged. “There’s an army waiting. Scardark’s. They guard the way, and no doubt the Way of Echoes. We shall make our way to the side tunnels, if the main way is inaccessible. I expect it shall be, since that’s where the armies will move most swiftly. They will want to control that ancient way. Both sides hope to. Side tunnels it is for us. We have time, if nothing terrible happens.”

I cursed the fear coursing through me and shook myself to clear it. Many dead eyes looked our way resentfully, knowing they were to clear the gate for us, but I didn’t really pity them. “Let them all die,” I whispered and knew Kiera had heard me. But she stood to the side with the patience of the dead, and said nothing.

Then Coodarg appeared.

The terrifying skeleton walked past the draugr officer and the dead saluted him, their spears glittering. The shafts struck the floor, and a bone-white flag of a half black female head fluttered above them
. Hel’s banner.
Coodarg stopped near us. He stared at us for a moment as if to see if we were ready, and his voice could be heard, though not from his mouth. “The Queen is unable to attend us.”

I stared at him, uncomprehending what he was saying. “You mean—”

Coodarg’s skull turned my way, his empty sockets boring into my eyes. “She won’t be here, human. She has an emergency. She wanted to be here. She cannot. Simple as that.” I looked at my companions. Thak was looking away, his face made of stone. Ittisana crinkled her brow at me, willing me to accept the situation, and Kiera stepped in.

She spoke. “No need for ceremony, Ulrich. The dead care not, and it would be for your benefit only. We have a job to do. Get to it, Coodarg.”

“Yes, mistress,” the skeleton answered. “Her message to you, Ulrich, was this. Bring them back. And choose your paths well.”

Paths? Real paths or was it a warning to keep true?

“I’ll try,” I said, still shocked Shannon would not be there.
What
could be more important? Counting coins? Brooding? Feasting with the dead? Killing elves?

Killing elves was likely the true reason,
I decided. I shrugged. “Let us do it, then.”

Coodarg turned to the dead, and the officers amongst the draugr turned, raised their blades high, and the army lifted their shields and spears. I felt my hair standing stiffly on my neck, and sensed many of the draugr held spells. None were disguised as the living, though.

Coodarg raised his skeletal hands. I felt he was gathering a spell. In a moment, I saw what the spell was. A dark, billowing cloud that seemed almost alive gathered from the shadows. It spun in the air around the dead one, growing like a storm cloud, swirling, twirling, preparing. The draugr army looked up at it, thousands of gleaming eyes. They looked unimpressed. “Get ready,” Kiera said.

“Here,” Ittisana said as she stepped close. She braided together a simple spell, and touched my eyes. I felt a small sting and rubbed them.

“What—”

“So you may see,” she explained. “It will enhance your vision. Shannon’s gift.”

“Thank her if I don’t return,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes that were still sore, but forgot my pain in a second.

The cloud moved.

It was as if the wind had grasped it, prodding it forward. Coodarg pointed at the gate, the mass shuddered and then slithered for the portal. When it touched the gleaming, hard-to-see surface, it disappeared. Inside the gate, somewhere, near or far, horns blew in alarm, but the darkness kept pouring in, and then the draugr moved as one. The hideous creatures forgot their reluctance, they licked their dead lips, and a thirst for battle could be seen on their ugly faces. They wanted to fight, to slay, the once beautiful faces distorted rottenly. They dodged inside the cloud, and went on, trampling their way inside.