by Pdmac
Karl twisted his head to look at Greg who abruptly stiffened. “You already know what I’m thinking.”
“You wanna use me as bait,” he snarled.
“You got it.”
“Suppose he kills me before you get him?”
“That’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Dieter calmly answered.
“No, dammit,” Greg retorted. “That’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
“You’re right,” Karl assuaged him. “But it’s the only way to bring him out into the open.”
Greg fumed for a moment then uttered a loud sigh. “Just because it’s right doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Less than an hour later, the rat returned and informed Raquel that Kevin was backtracking his steps to the front gate, searching for them and the alarm had still not sounded concerning the dead guard at the gate.
“Let him pass all the way to the gate,” Karl said, “while we set up farther into the city.” Turning to Cirissa, he asked, “Are there buildings where we can get an archer a good shot without being seen?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Turning to the others, he said, “Now here’s the plan.”
Greg bitterly muttered to himself as he pretended to slink along an alleyway in the dull shadows of a late afternoon, knowing it was just a matter of time before Kevin saw him and began tracking him. He was a damned fool in the first place for allowing himself to be taken in by Kevin’s smooth arguments. Yeah, they were doing well, but there was always something about the man that he didn’t trust. What a way to find out that your partner was only too ready to kill you because you pissed him off.
Believing he heard a noise behind him, Greg jittered to a halt and spun around. The fading sun illuminated half the alley while the other half remained in inky darkness. Chastising himself for being so skittish, he reminded himself that Kevin was an assassin and that he wouldn’t hear him.
He caught his breath when he saw a rat scuttle across the alley and disappear into the shadows. Kevin was close. He could feel him. He fears were realized when he turned around, for the assassin stood in front of him.
“At least you have the guts to face me like a man,” Greg said, controlling his nervousness, “instead of stabbing me in the back.”
“Talk about stabbing someone in the back,” Kevin sneered. “You perfected that talent.”
“What are you talking about?” Greg replied, wondering where the hell Raquel was with that damned arrow shot.
“Gimme a break, traitor,” Kevin retorted. “You know damn well what I’m talking about. Tell me where the others are and I might let you live.”
“And then you might not, even if I do tell you,” Greg responded. Any time now Raquel.
“That’s true,” Kevin chuckled then quivered as the arrow hit him in the back and emerged out his chest. Blinking in surprise, he dropped his head to stare at the shaft protruding out of his chest then lifted his head to glare at Greg. “You bastard.” With a flick of both hands, the knives flew up, one penetrating Greg’s throat, the other imbedding into his heart.
As Kevin sank to his knees, he saw the figure emerge from the shadows. Sakura silently walked up to kneel beside him then slit his throat. Ignoring Greg as too far gone, she pulled down the face mask and sucked in the evening air.
A few moments later, Karl and the others appeared just as the two bodies sizzled then vanished. Sakura collected Kevin’s blades and potions while Annabeth rummaged through Greg’s potions, discovering a small book of spells.
“I ought to feel bad that Greg was killed,” Dieter said, “but quite honestly, he was too much of a whiner. Don’t see the need for someone we can’t trust.”
“I agree,” Raquel announced walking up.
“Not much we can do about it now,” Karl observed. “Let’s go thank Cirissa and see what this supposed curse is all about.”
Back inside Cirissa’s home, they listened as she explained, “The curse began a year after Cyril closed the borders. At first, we ignored Cyril’s command and continued trading. The months passed and we prospered as a city. We believed he would turn a blind eye to us because we gave him so much in taxes. Then the soldiers came and cut down the forest between the two domains and by the time they left, Berismo’s fortunes had changed. While the farms produced abundance, men began dying of unexplained diseases. Children were born crippled. Mothers died in childbirth.”
She flipped a page in her book and continued reading. “When the old burgomaster died, a man well-loved and admired, we learned that Berismo was given a new burgomaster, chosen by Cyril himself. When he arrived, our misfortunes ceased, but by then it was too late. The city was a shell of its former self. Despite his efforts to repopulate the city, word had spread and no one wanted to settle in a place that was cursed. Those who remained worked the farms but they were too few and the farms too many. So farms were abandoned and the fields overgrown as the few farmers left tilled what soil they could.”
Pausing, she gazed up at Karl. “I’m telling you this so that you will understand. The curse is not here.”
“It’s not?” he frowned. “Where is it?”
“It’s in Hillfurt, where Cyril once reigned. He has a woman –”
“O God,” Annabeth moaned, “not another sorceress.”
“Yes,” Cirissa replied, bobbing her head. “She cursed this town as punishment for not obeying Cyril’s command.”
“Why would he allow that when he was getting so much more in taxes?” Dieter asked, her explanation not making sense.
“Well,” she hesitated. “There’s more.”
“Why does that not surprise me,” Annabeth mumbled then cocked her head. “She’s not a succubus, is she?”
There was a pounding on the door before it was thrust open and two tall guards entered then stood to the side as a diminutive man with airs of authority strode in. He stared imperiously at the group, specifically noting Dieter and Karl then turned a haughty eye to Cirissa.
“The gate guard is dead,” he exclaimed, his voice high and reedy, while giving her a disdainful glare.
“So I heard,” Cirissa replied, undaunted.
“Why wasn’t I immediately notified?” He jammed his fists on his hips.
“Why ask me?” she retorted. “You have guards. Where is your commander? Who checks on your guards? Seems to me your failure lies within you.”
“Watch your tongue, woman,” he snapped.
“Or what?” she sniffed. “You’ll take everything I have? Make me poor? Deprive me of my livelihood?” She folded her arms and stared at him. “Kill me? Go ahead. You do that to everyone you don’t like and pretty soon you’ll have the entire city to yourself.”
“Be silent, crone,” he growled, flipping a hand. “Who are these strangers in your house? Were they responsible for my guard’s death? I will have the truth from all of you.”
From the moment Reyal had entered the home, Annabeth had the urge to toy with him. Deciding now was a good time, she cast an implant idea spell – Your pants are undone. Turn around and fix them. Do it again… and again.
Reyal abruptly clamped his mouth shut and turned around, bending his head as he reached to check the front of his trousers. Satisfied they were fine, he spun around, only to realize that his pants might be undone, causing him to spin around again.
After the third time of the burgomaster spinning around, Annabeth’s giggling grew and she covered her mouth, looking away as she struggled to contain her laughter.
“What’s so funny?” the burgomaster yelled over his shoulder as his hands checked the buttons on the front of his pants.
“Just happy to be here,” Annabeth replied with a snort.
With a half-smile, Raquel gave Annabeth an inquisitive glance, wondering why she was laughing.
“The gods damn it,” the burgomaster burst. “These damn trousers.” Without a word, he stormed out, the guards falling in behind him.
Free to give vent to her amusement, Annabeth
laughed out loud then confessed, causing the others to laugh with her, though Cirissa’s amusement was the first to fade.
“You are clever and it was good to see him knocked down a notch, but the problem remains.”
“Why not just get rid of him? Kill him?” Karl pointed out.
“He was not always like he is now. Reyal was once an honorable and good man,” she sighed. “Getting rid of him does not solve the problem. You must eliminate the sorceress who controls him. Kill her and the spell over him is broken.”
“So how do we do that?
She gave him an impatient look. “You must use magic. I see your magic skill is still locked. Why?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Karl shrugged.
Cirissa frowned and shook her head. “To succeed, you must unlock your magic. You are a Viking. Who is your patron god or goddess?”
Karl gave her a blank stare. “Don’t have one.”
“What?” she replied, shocked. “You call yourself a Viking and have no patron god?” She flipped a hand at him. “You are no help. How can you expect to defeat a sorceress when you have no magic?”
Karl’s not so subtle gaze at Annabeth caused Cirissa to dismissively respond, “You can’t always depend on her. Though her powers grow stronger, you will need more than her talents to defeat Mavie.”
“Máh-vee?” Annabeth repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”
“And she’s a strikingly beautiful woman,” Cirissa agreed with a nod, “with fire and ice in place of a heart.” She narrowed her gaze at Karl. “You must unlock your magic if you are to defeat her.”
“You’ve already said that,” he replied, frustrated. “How do I do that?”
“You must choose a patron god to help you.”
“Like I said,” he huffed, “how do I do that?”
Cirissa’s frown deepened as she stared at him, her look telling him he was a moron. “Choose one and call upon him or her.”
Thinking it a simple process of merely picking a god that closely aligned with his own predilections, Karl activated his screen and scrolled down to the Info tab then pressed the hyperlink. After further scrolling and searching, Karl finally arrived at the page on Nordic gods and goddesses, immediately feeling overwhelmed with all the information.
“This is going to take a while,” he complained.
While Karl was occupied finding a patron god, Annabeth turned to Cirissa. “Tell us about Mavie.”
Cirissa hesitated, curious at Karl’s abstract gaze into the air as he wiggled his finger. “What’s he doing?”
“Research,” Raquel replied. “Now what about Mavie?”
Cirissa reluctantly turned to face them. “As I said before, she is a strikingly beautiful woman who enchants all with her beauty.”
“Is she a succubus?” Annabeth asked with a pained sigh.
“Yes,” Cirissa nodded, “just like her step-sisters.”
“My God,” Annabeth moaned, “not another one. How many freakin’ sisters are there?”
“Four that we know of,” Cirissa replied. “There are rumors of one more, the result of a liaison with an unknown huntsman. But that is the least of your worries, for not only is Mavie a succubus, she’s also a powerful sorceress. That is why Cyril left her to rule the realm while he was trying to unite the kingdom.”
“So she’s in Hillfurt?” Raquel asked.
“No,” Cirissa answered. “She remains in Tal Olca, the old capital. Her power is greatest there.”
“Why?”
Cirissa shrugged. “That is what you will have to discover.”
Dieter warily regarded her. “How come you know all these things?”
Cirissa flashed a rueful smile. “I once lived in Tal Olca… before I was banished here.”
“Banished?” Annabeth’s ears perked up.
Cirissa’s shoulders slumped then tightened. “I was not always the old woman you see before you. I was once as beautiful as her.”
“Her? Mavie?”
“Yes.”
“This ought to be good,” Raquel said, leaning in to hear the story. “What happened?”
Cirissa turned away. “There wasn’t room enough in the realm for two such as Mavie.”
Sakura studied Cirissa for a moment before asking, “How old are you?”
Cirissa gazed back over her shoulder at the assassin. “The question you ought to be asking is ‘How can we defeat her?’ It will take your combined skills to destroy her.” She gazed intently at Raquel. “Remember your animal and bird communication skills. Use them to your advantage like you did here.”
Turning to Annabeth, she warned, “Do not think your cleverness will work on her. You must be more subtle. Use what you have learned.”
“There’s a curse on you,” Dieter blurted. “Isn’t there.” It wasn’t a question. “We kill Mavie and the curse on you and many others is lifted.”
Cirissa slowly nodded and chuckled. “You have a brain in that berserker body. Yes, I have been cursed. Destroy Mavie and I am free. Once free, I can take you to your bridge.”
At the mention of ‘bridge’, Karl’s focus diverted. “What do we need to do?”
“Kill Mavie,” Annabeth sweetly replied.
“Have you decided?” Cirissa interrupted.
“I think so,” he said. “I’ve been looking at Freya.”
“Freya,” Cirissa repeated. “An interesting choice, one that should serve you well.”
“So who’s Freya,” Raquel asked.
“Freya’s the goddess of love and fertility, and the most beautiful of all the Norse goddesses. She’s the patron goddess of crops and birth, sex, battle, sensual pleasure, and matters of love.”
“Sex and pleasure?” Annabeth brightened. “I like your choice.”
“I figured you would,” Karl chuckled. “She also has a thing about music, spring and flowers, and for some reason is particularly fond of elves, though dwarves play into her life... and she’s one of the foremost goddesses of the Vanir.”
“Vanir?” Raquel said.
“Think of them like the Roman gods and Mount Olympus,” he said. “The Vanir gods are into sorcery and magic. What’s more interesting though is that Freya is a shape shifter. She has this falcon skin and so she’s able to take on the form of a raptor. She also has the power to transform other people into animals.”
“So why her as opposed to Thor or Odin?” Dieter asked, causing the others to give him surprised stares. “I’ve read a little about Norse gods,” he sheepishly explained.
“I wanted someone different,” Karl replied, “and the shape shifting thing sounded like something maybe I could use.”
“Not to mention she’s the goddess of sensual pleasure,” Sakura teased.
“That’s an added bonus,” he grinned then looked at Cirissa. “So how do I access my goddess?”
“You need her rune carved on a live oak,” Cirissa instructed, “somewhere where you won’t be interrupted when she talks with you.” She cocked her head and smiled. “I know just the place. Come. You too,” she added, pointedly gazing at Lana and Annabeth. “The rest of you stay here and eat what little victuals I have. Or better yet, find some food for us. He’ll be hungry when he returns.”
She headed for the door and Dieter stepped in front of her. “No one gives us orders except for the Boss here.” He jerked a thumb at Karl.
“It’s OK, Dieter,” Karl soothed. “Go ahead and buy whatever food you can find. Watch yourselves. I shouldn’t be too long.”
Cirissa led the way through the city gate then along the road back the way that Karl and company had come. Just before the forest encroached on the road, she turned left and followed the forest edge, carefully making her way along a barely perceptible footpath.
The sun was setting by the time she turned into the dim forest, her sure footsteps leading them deeper into the broad strip of forest edging the no–man’s land between the two domains.
“Here we are,” she announced as the
y came into a small clearing. In the middle was a tall thick oak with branches that spread wide.
Leading the way to the tree, she slowly caressed the bark, gingerly placing fingers in the grooves and valleys of the hard surface as she haltingly made her way around the tree. She came to a sudden stop.
“Here. Right here is the spot. You can cut away the skin here. Not too large mind you. Only enough to carve the runes of her name.”
“Uh,” he hesitated. “I don’t know how to carve runes.”
“Aye,” she nodded, “you don’t, but they do.” She curled her fingers at Annabeth and Lana then turned her attention back to Karl. “No bigger than a hand’s breadth. Make it clean.”
Karl pulled out his dagger and began carefully removing the outside bark.
“While he’s busy,” she said to the two women, “do you know runes?”
“Yes,” they replied in unison.
“Good, good. Tell me then. Can you spell her name correctly?”
The two women looked at each other. Lana spoke first.
“Her name’s ‘Freya.’ So that would probably be either F-R-E-Y-A or F-R-E J-A.”
Cirissa nodded with a smile that just as quickly vanished. “Did you think to check?”
“It’s F-R-E-Y-J-A in the old Norse,” Annabeth said with a shrug. “I looked it up on the way here.”
Cirissa sighed with a grin. “Good. That’s right.”
“But J and Y are the same symbol,” Lana pointed out with just a hint of irritation. “I looked it up too. It also said that Viking age runic inscriptions didn’t normally use two identical runes in a row. So it really doesn’t matter whether it’s a J or a Y, because you would only use one letter.”
Annabeth twisted her head to give Lana a look of admiration. “I’m impressed. You wanna carve the tunes?”
“You both will do it, alternating a letter. You,” she said to Lana, “will carve the first letter.”
“Then what?” Annabeth asked.
“Then we leave him to commune with his goddess.”
“We can’t watch?” she said, her curiosity obvious.
Instead of answering, Cirissa held a finger to her lips and winked.