The Wolf Hammer, page 23
part #1 of Odin's Bastard Series
I smiled at her gratefully, and she shook her head, poured some of the liquid on my forehead, and then, holding me still, on my side. I howled with the pain.
“You’ll be prettier,” she murmured. “Now, take it like a female.”
I screamed my guts out. When I came to, I saw her on the window, powerful, though my size, silent. I rolled onto my side, stood on wobbly feet. I saw the empty bottle and knew she had made a great sacrifice. “What was it?”
“What?” She arched a brow. “It was gorgon’s blood. A gift from our mother.”
“Our? I just got to know my father.”
“Our,” she said sternly. “Did I not warn you? You made an oath to Nött. She takes them seriously. It is a potent brew, worthy of a goddess. See, one of the First Born, a gorgon named Medusa, once traded with Nött, and Nött took her blood as payment for service. The blood from one side kills you horribly, the other brings you back even from death. A rarest of magic, that. Not even gods can do this. That was a portion of such blood. It had no strength to bring back life, but to knit bone, flesh, and to purge blood? Yes. It did.” She looked at me with care. “You remember nothing, do you.”
I shook my head. “Half-human,” I muttered. “I remember nothing. Not even of my powers. Can this be removed?” I touched the bracer.
She shook her head. “By Narfi. He controls it. His will keeps it there. I suppose he knows you should be shielded, even in the unlife he planned for you.”
Unlife.
I stared at her.
“Let me explain,” she said. “Or do you wish to ask me questions?”
I rubbed my forehead and found a scar there, no longer bleeding.
“Cruel,” she said. “The work of your father. It is not a wound now, just a scar, but it is his mark, and they didn’t lie. You will be hunted and hated. And a bit of your soul is still gone. Your powers too. And still, Nött and I think you will be a fine servant. You have no other home now. You chose. She heard. I am her mouth. If you betray Nött? She will send the killers of the Nine Worlds after you. You will be dragged to her, into the Unlit City, and there, she will make you what Borin planned for you, just much less happy.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Why is a thing of Nött—"
“I am seeking treasure,” she interrupted me. “Nött is, how do you say, one that is neither for or against anyone. She does like to be in control of much of her own destiny, though. Mar is of interest to her as well. Where Lok goes, I have followed, pretending to be nothing more than a fugitive. And I liked this city. It was a home. I dare say I have been one of the better thieves in Midgard for quite a while. But now that I know the grand treasure is found?” She winked. “Brother, you and I shall steal it. And I think, if possible, we can kill Lok’s dogs too.”
I walked to stand near her, to see down to the White Tower’s walls.
She smiled. “It looks desperate.”
“Where do we begin?” I asked.
“In the cabinet, there are weapons and armor,” she said. “But we should hurry. Borin is fetching you, see, right now.”
I looked down. I saw nothing.
“He has others, Rikas and Gilad,” she told me. “And he will be left behind. I think he will know where they are going, and what they are doing. We’ll ask Borin nicely, won’t we? Then we shall thwart them, and we shall kill Mar.”
“Mar, an elf,” I said.
“Yes.”
“We will thwart them,” I said dully. “Then we shall burn them at stake.”
She winked, pretty and healthy, and happy.
Careless. Not burdened by oaths. Or past.
And perhaps, I needed not be, either.
“We will do all of that, or we shall die trying,” she told me, and toed Reignhelm’s head. “We have tools to make their plans into nothing.”
I smiled at her. “What is Borin?”
“He does worship Lok,” she said. “Always did. Didn’t sit well with Nött. He is called Azhan of Scardark, and even the Svartalfs found him repulsive. They found him in Graymoor’s lands, playing with bones, an exile. There is a bounty on his head in Scardark. Raised a child of a lord from the grave and made it a draugr.”
My eyes widened slightly.
She nodded. “Necromancer. He can call the dead to speak, and he can, given time, raise them to walk. He is known to create draugr. He has haunted Midgard for long years, giving the Aesir lot of trouble. For Hagar too. Now with your father and the Aesir both dead, they will make him a lord of this shit, and here, he shall raise the dead to make trouble. The draugr can see and feel the Darkness, the power of magic. Evil and bitter, they will disguise their intention and make mischief all over, but this time on a grand scale. Odin’s world will be ruined. I don’t care for their squabbles. I do care for the city. So we start with him. We could grab one of the others, I suppose, but they expect Borin to stay and won’t be missing him.”
“I do wish to kill him,” I said. “And he does want a fight.”
“He wanted you,” she said. “Coin, aye. He is greedy. But you are his dream come true. Never happier, than when Narfi decided to kill you. I saw him dancing, giddy with joy. You were his gift, your corpse, and what he could do with you. I suppose this will be a surprise for him.”
“They will be going to the north,” I said.
She shrugged. “I heard your wife say they know it is there. And now they know exactly where. We shall too.”
“I think it is safe to assume,” I said, “that wherever Mar hid, and my father found him, it won’t be out in the woods. They need an army.”
She nodded carefully. “They might use the army to kill it too.”
The north would be at war.
“They are probably,” I mused, “telling the north they want peace, and things are well. And then, they will go there soon. Very soon.”
The ships were preparing. The northern ship was leaving. Chal smiled. “The emissary is waving at them. I see far if you wondered. I think you are right.”
I was nodding. “I will deal with Borin,” I told her.
“He is a bone dancer,” she said. “A mage. A filthy thief. A liar. I will help you.”
“No,” I said. “It is my job.”
She sighed. “And I thought we would be happy together and on a longer road than this.”
“He is mine,” I snarled.
I saw a sword on the wall of her cabinet. It was a black hilted longsword, a wicked heavy blade with a scabbard. I removed it from the hooks while eyeing armor, dark as night, chain thick and supple. “Yours?”
“I don’t use it,” she said dryly. “From Svartalfheim, both. Very nice for a warrior. I suppose you can use them.”
“Show me where Borin—”
“He is called—”
“Borin,” I snarled. “He’ll die Borin.”
Inclining her head, she went to the cabinet and took out another sword, as well as a second potion. She winked at me.
“Let us go.”
***
The girls were tied up and chained to a wall, their mouths gagged. The cellar was filled with old wine, and there were barrels full of potatoes and onions too. They wore their royal armor, eyes round with horror as I stared at them. Both looked terrified, and I knew they knew exactly what was being planned for them.
“You remember,” I said, as I reached out to Rikas, “what you told me. That if I opened the way to this city, you would give me anything?”
I drew down her gag.
She took deep, panicked breaths. “Please. They killed my father. A thing. A creature! Much like—”
“Yes. Like me.”
She panted and shook her head.
“Here is what I will ask of you. We will kill the lot. They owe me a great debt, and I will not try to convince you that I fight for Odin or for the east.” I felt a pang of sorrow at the words and went on. “I will have a quest and a new future, and I will go on that quest after I kill Borin.”
“That shit,” she hissed. “They gave us to him, and he carried us here. He placed his hands on us and told us we will be his queens, only rotten. He said he likes is flesh cold. They took our family, and the High King, I think, died in the room…Graymoor. He went there. He—”
“I know,” I said, and placed the head of the High King on her lap. She recoiled in horror. “They killed them all. And do you know what that means? It means there are no true kings in Midgard. Only opportunities. We have a chance to surprise them. Your troops march under a false king. They are going to war. Will you help us stop them?”
She didn’t hesitate. She nodded vigorously.
“In that case, here is what I need,” I told her, and when I had told her what that was, she wept and nodded. I smiled, and Chal stepped to sight, and released both. She guided them out and looked at me.
“I will be back soon,” she said.
I drew my sword. “Aye. Soon. Luck with you. Sister.”
She laughed. “Nött will love you. She’ll love you well. I’d go to the gate if you want him. He will be there, and he is upset.”
She took the two out, and I went to seek Borin.
***
I walked forward for the high, half destroyed gate, and there, in the shadows, I saw Borin. I assumed it was him, for he no longer had the blessing of Narfi’s spells. He was thick with muscles, wore a dirty robe, his sword on a leather belt, and his face was that of an elf, though not entirely. Like elves, his hair was thick and vibrant. It was white and held in a messy ponytail down his back. His face was sleek and powerful, and his eyes bright white jewels. His mouth was thin and cruel. He was walking in the shadows and whispering, muttering with anger, and looking around the bodies that were thick in that part of the city. He would squat near one, then move to another, and stay there for a long while, touching the corpses.
Few would raise their heads and speak to him, hissing and nodding.
Then he would leave them and walk on, looking around.
His eyes were wild as they sought out something or someone.
Me?
He squatted next to a dead corpse, not far from me, and I watched him in the shadows.
Yggra had been dead. When he spoke to me.
Shit.
“Where,” Borin lisped, “love, is he?”
A woman, formerly an officer of the city, groaned, wept without tears, and looked up at him.
“Speak, love, and I shall not raise you to serve me,” he said softly. “No draugr have I yet summoned, for the first one must be their king, and that king shall obey me. No weakling must it be, for the draugr’s power, love, hinges on the stature in life. My friend, he had the power, even if it was locked away. So, love, I know some of you linger and walk the dark shades. I see you in the shadows, not yet on your way to Helheim. Serve me now, before I make the White Tower a bastion of death and of Lok in Midgard. Draugr most shall be, and spells they shall know, but they will not be happy. Don’t be one of them.” He leaned close. “I am sorry. I know it is hard. Have you seen my friend?”
“Who is your friend?” whispered the woman.
“My friend is missing,” he said. “He was dead. He was dead, as I was told by Faria the Fair, and still, he wasn’t there when I went to fetch him to my realm. Did they cheat me of a corpse I loved as a brother?”
“Oh, you mean Adeling Hagar,” she said softly. “He is right here.”
Borin stiffened and stood up.
He spun around
“The dead you smell,” I said spitefully, “and the living you cannot see. You, Svartalf, servant of Lok, would seek me? To make me your truest friend?”
He licked his lips, and his eyes drifted to my side. “A sword.”
“The hammer was taken,” I said. “I am sorry. I will not be terrible with a sword, I promise. You do remember I knew how to use one.”
“I said you wouldn’t live for long, dancing like you did,” he laughed, his hand on his sword’s hilt. “But it will look pretty, eh?”
“It shall,” I agreed. “You helped them. You drove me on a path, didn’t you? After they took a great part of me.”
He spat. “You chose the path, and failed,” he answered. “Narfi gave you all the chances in Midgard to kill your father and to give him the book, but you failed to deliver. Not even the powers of a demi-god could pull you out of that miserable guilt. Even when your father went mad in Aeginhamn, you found no strength to tell Faria that now, you will keep your oath to Lok. Even then, you hesitated. Blamed yourself.”
“He killed my mother,” I said. “No matter what she was, that would have been hard. And perhaps I wasn’t a murderous bastard.”
He laughed. “Oh, aye. Narfi hated that. He started to suspect it quite soon. Now Odin’s guard, the great enemy, is dead,” Borin said. “And I am finally free. They wanted to take the book without war, but this is better. Midgard free of Odin’s eyes? For a while, at least, it will be precious.”
“I will need to know some things,” I told him as I stepped forward, hoisting the sword. “And I think that now, finally, I am a murderous bastard. Truly.”
He slid his sword from its sheath and a dagger from the back of his belt. “It is long overdue.”
I leaned on my sword. “The deal was,” I said, “that if you can beat me, I shall obey you. I suppose that means I shall be your draugr and will serve you like your evil-doer for the rest of my unlife.”
Borin grinned. “Aye. That is so. I will even let you wed Gilad. I’ll keep Rikas. I already patted both down, and she has the better arse, see? And if you would happen to beat me, I will serve you?”
“Something like that,” I said. “I said I had questions. I am wondering, see?”
He eyed my forehead. “That looks clean. We will have to fix it. I liked it the way it was. What are you wondering?”
“There are a lot of men below,” I said, and drew the dark sword. “Going someplace. Where? What I am wondering,” I whispered and winked, “is where did the book lead them? I am curious. I do like my stories. To the north? Where in the north?”
“You are Narfi’s bastard,” he said, and stopped to stand before me, breathing fast, preparing, shivering with joy. “I asked you who taught you swords. It was your father. You forgot that, didn’t you? Mostly? It was the one thing he taught you well, and the one time he enjoyed being with you. Your mother made him doubt you, and you to hate him, but with swords?” He smiled. “You were happy. Pretend I am him. I have no spell of Narfi’s to mask me but try to pretend. You will die happy now. Later, you will serve me unhappily. Well, I shall tell you nothing yet. Did you know that your wife seduced Eglin with sex? She tapped him dry. She did. He is well-hung for such a pretty boy.”
I felt that anger.
That familiar anger.
He grinned. “You knew, eh? There it is. The jotun part. Your father had a lot of anger, especially with your mother tormenting him with love and doubt,” he said, “but that’s the anger that killed the Aesir. Yes, yes. Alas, that you have not the hammer to give you even a part of a chance.”
He moved swiftly and stabbed forward.
I stepped back, horrified by his speed, and then back again as the blade visited the air where my head had been. He grinned and jogged away from the sword that was pointing at his face. He was puffing, gathering the will for the next attack.
I whirled and kept him in sight, the blade high now.
He turned for me and attacked.
The blade came down from high. He dodged my wild strike and fell under my swing. He smashed his sword down on mine many times, so very fast. I pushed close and pushed him back. He laughed and was jogging around me, gathering resolve.
“They are demi-gods,” he said as he ran slowly, hopping over rubble and bodies, eyeing me. “And you would be too, but for your stupidity. Never killed one like you before. I’ll take your arm, and perhaps some of the power is yours in undeath, and mine as your king of bones.”
“Get to it,” I said.
He grinned and suddenly charged. The sword was coming for my eyes, and I lifted my sword.
The dagger flew from under our blades.
I stepped back, and the weapon struck my helmet. I hopped back, but still, he kicked me and stabbed. The chain jingled as it hit me.
It resisted.
He frowned. “Where did you get that? It is made by svartalfs!”
I retaliated, and he dodged. I held my sword in front of me, parrying one, then another hit. The blade ripped at my weak side, but the chain took the sharp stab. He dodged left and right, evading my sword swings, and then stabbed for my heart. I rolled away and grasped a shield.
His blade was coming as I lifted the shield over me.
The blade cut to the shield, and I twisted.
The blade came off, and the svartalf staggered back, still not fast enough, for I sliced my sword along his ankle.
He screamed and staggered back, looking shocked.
I pulled myself up and moved forward. “Answers, Borin.”
He shook his head.
He closed his eyes, and a body twitched before me and sat up. Another body, then another reached out at me and tried to pull me down, their faces hopelessly terrified, fingers white and faces bloody.
Borin limped away from me and ran for a pair of soldiers, leaning on a broken door. He hovered over them.
I hacked and slashed my way out of the arms of the dead, who turned to crawl after me.
Not true draugr, they were simply on loan from Helheim.
Borin staggered. And grinned.
Two bodies stood upright by the doorway.
Borin took a step back, and another, and bent to pick up a sword.
“Draugr,” he said, his eyes on me, quivering with fatigue. “Friends, my first ones. Alas that it is so. I wanted you.”
One warrior, a tall captain with a cut throat, smiled. His eyes were bright with inhuman malice, but he bowed before Borin, and the other one kneeled.
“Kill this one,” Borin said. “Make it painful. Don’t make it too messy. He’ll join us after.”
Both dead ones turned to stare at me, their hands twitching. They both picked up two axes.
I hefted my shield and sword, and walked forward, fear gnawing at me. Dead and still walking, they were clearly no longer human. Driven by needs I couldn’t understand, with greed and bitter jealousy, they could not refuse Borin.
