"Like we're feeling his feelings for him?"
"Maybe," Ivar said, shrugging. "I'm just a fighter, not a philosopher."
"Whatever the reason, I think we'll find out someday."
"So you plan on staying around then?"
Yes, she thought. She was happy, and felt comfortable with the group. Even the people of the Highlands and this new lot seemed like good folk. She liked them, and wanted to stay. This was her calling, she knew. She would be part of the founding of a new tribe; a new people. That was what she wanted more than anything.
"I never want to go back," she said. "I want to be a part of whatever is happening right now. I feel out of place with the tribe. I love it here. I'll follow Dearg until my end."
Ivar turned to her with a great smile. He held out his hand, and she took it gladly.
"Then welcome, sister," he said. "I'll stand by your side, too. We're all in this together, no matter what happens."
For once in her life, Freyja finally felt like she was home.
Chapter Nineteen
T'kar sat across from Randar as the two enjoyed their evening meals. The king's plate was piled high with his usual feast of human and animal organs, fried baby's skin, and a goblet of red wine infused with the blood of one of his guards. Randar dined in his customary fashion; a light meal of roasted pork, greens and vinegar, and white wine.
T'kar's new witch was standing at the opposite end of the table, perusing ancient tomes that T'kar had provided her from Igraina's collection. He stared at her intently, mesmerized by her dark beauty, and the way she moved her soft and supple body. He loved the paleness of her flesh, as it reminded him of clean porcelain, which he found beautiful for some reason he could never fathom. But it was her eyes that drew T'kar's attention.
They were deep green like shining emeralds, full of life and intellect. Even her lips were fascinating and lust-inspiring. She would occasionally look up as she was working, flashing T'kar those eyes and licking those supple lips. When she did so, he would stop, staring at her with his mouth open, unable to speak or continue eating.
"Randar," he grunted. "You have done well. She is… the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon. Her evil practically oozes from her skin. I can smell it. Literally. I can smell it."
Randar chuckled and took a sip of his wine. "I knew upon hearing of her that she would be perfect for your court, Sire."
"Yes," T'kar said, licking his lips as she flashed him those eyes again. "She is perfect. She is far more perfect than Igraina ever was. She is clearly superior in every way."
"Sire," Randar said. "You are drooling."
T'kar laughed, tearing his eyes away from his new witch to stare at Randar. He watched as the man carefully sliced his meat with his knife and ate the small piece with his mouth closed. T'kar grabbed a chunk of flesh from his plate and shoved it in his mouth, chewing loudly while chuckling. Randar remained expressionless.
"Do you know why I keep you around, Randar?"
"Because I am competent and cultured, unlike you," Randar responded immediately.
T'kar grinned, letting blood and juices run down his beard.
"Because you amuse me, mostly," he said. "But yes, you are competent. You have yet to let me down. And this is despite the fact that you conceal your brutal, vile, and murderous nature with this foppish ruse you call culture."
Randar raised an eyebrow, smiling crookedly. "Ruse?" he echoed incredulously.
"Of course it's a ruse," T'kar insisted. "No one with a mind like yours could possibly find enjoyment in these ridiculous activities you so thoroughly enjoy. You are just as sadistic and uncultured as I, yet you appear to be a bureaucrat, a socialite, someone who likes pretty things. I know better."
Randar chuckled lightly as he took another sip from his wine. He glanced briefly at Lilit, who had dropped her robes and stood naked at her grimoire. T'kar looked too, and his heart nearly stopped as he beheld her naked form. His lust raged within him, and his mouth fell open.
"Sire," Randar said.
T'kar closed his mouth, shaking his head clear, and went back to consuming his meal.
"Tell me how you found her," he said.
"There was a fortune teller in the village to the east," Randar began. "Her name was Adhaen. Prophet Adhaen, to be precise."
T'kar scoffed. "Prophet."
"I knew she was a fraud when I entered her shop. She had trinkets displayed on her shelves that were nothing more than colored glass or cheap brass shined to look like gold."
T'kar grunted, ripping a mouthful of flesh from a large thigh bone. "Go on."
"Surprisingly, she made no secret of her fraudulent practice to me. She knew I was privy to her deception and simply assisted me in finding a witch."
"Did she know why you were looking for a witch?"
"No," Randar said. "Not until the brief moment before I cut off her head."
T'kar howled with laughter, spitting chunks of meat onto the table before him.
"I told her I was a witch hunter," Randar continued. "By doing so, I would ensure that she would tell me of the most vile and evil witch she knew of."
"Ah, yes," T'kar said. "Excellent ruse, Randar. Excellent ruse."
"That is when she told me of Lilit. She gave me a map of the bog to the east, where I spent a lot of time as a child. Lilit had been bound with iron chains and thrown into it, only to spend thousands of years at the bottom, alone in darkness."
"With thousands of years to plot her vengeance," T'kar growled, slamming his fist onto the table. "Perfect."
"Yes," Randar said. "I knew she would serve you if you offered her the chance to wreak havoc on the good folk of Eirenoch. So, I dove in after her."
He went back to his meal, and T'kar could only watch the man with awe and respect. Despite Randar's strangeness, the man was unmatched in his loyalty and ability to get things done. T'kar was lucky to have secured his services.
"You deserve a gift, Randar," he said. "You and Lilit both. Name it and it is yours."
Randar shrugged. "I do not wont for anything, Sire," he said. "A good night's rest shall be sufficient at the moment."
T'kar grumbled, disappointed, but then turned to Lilit. "And you, my dear?" he asked.
Lilit stopped, tapping her chin with her long, beautiful finger. "I shall require a cadre of fine young men. They shall be willing to pleasure not only myself, but each other as well. They will join me in my bed at night, and bathe me when I wish it. That is what I want."
T'kar grinned and looked back at Randar, whose brow was raised.
"I've changed my mind," Randar said. "I want that, too."
T'kar roared with laughter. "Of course you do," he howled. "Of course you do. Done! I shall send out my soldiers to find the finest young men in the nearby villages."
T'kar's mirror flared into life, prompting him to throw down his bone and begin to rise. Lilit, however, stopped him with a raised hand, conjuring a spell that ripped the emerging image from the mirror and cast it onto the floor at the foot of T'kar's table. Before his very eyes, the image of Galik appeared, bloodied but alive.
"Galik," T'kar growled. "I see your rotting corpse is still among the animated."
Galik cackled. "Subtle, my lord. Very subtle."
"What news, then? Why are you so bloody?"
"I'm afraid Jarka's army has been annihilated, Sire," Galik said.
T'kar froze, feeling his skin crawl as the anger rose within him. "What?"
"It seems we vastly underestimated the Highlanders," Galik explained. "Though we were able to wipe out a few of the clans, the rest of them were ready and waiting for us at Caillain's fortress."
"Why did you not conjure the Fomorians?" T'kar asked.
"We didn't need them at first," Galik explained. "But I knew they would be needed at our last battle. Unfortunately, I was struck by an arrow, and was briefly killed. When I awoke, the army was destroyed."
"An arrow?" T'kar said. "From where?"
; Galik shrugged, then grasped his neck painfully, gritting his teeth. "From behind us," he groaned. "I cannot explain where the archer was. I do not know. The nearest location couldn't have been any closer than two hundred yards. An impressive shot, if you ask me. Very painful, as well."
T'kar snarled, unsure of how to proceed.
"Where is Captain Jarka?" Randar asked.
"He was not present among the dead," Galik said. "He must have escaped."
T'kar grinned, looking at Randar.
"He'll return eventually," Randar said.
"Find him," T'kar said to Galik. "And if you happen to run across Igraina, kill her."
"Yes, Sire," Galik said.
"Come back as soon as you can," T'kar said. "And we will come up with a new strategy. We will need Jarka's information to do so. If you cannot find him, return to the fortress regardless."
"Yes, Sire," Galik said.
As Galik's image faded, T'kar sat in silence. This new revelation was disturbing to him. His army, led by his best captain, had been defeated. But how? Surely the Highlanders could not have been underestimated that much. There was another factor involved; one that no one was aware of.
"Sire," Lilit said. "I was able to read Galik's thoughts, such as they were. Despite his incompetence, his memory was well marked by this."
She conjured an item out of thin air, tossing it onto the table, where it slid down in front of T'kar's plate. He snatched it up, looking at it curiously.
"What is this?" he asked.
"It appears to be an arrow, Sire," Randar said.
"I know it's an arrow!" T'kar growled, slamming his fist on the table.
"It is the arrow of a Northman," Lilit said. "The runes upon it tell me so."
T'kar examined it closely, seeing several runes inscribed near its fletching. His lips curled into a snarl, and he gave Lilit a sideways glance.
"Northmen, eh?" he whispered.
He remembered Kathorgo's warning, that the Dragon's blood was still out there somewhere. It was likely the child was now a Northman, someone of importance, and that he would have sympathy for his own true people. Though this arrow was not large enough for the typical Northman, it was clear that they were involved somehow.
That enraged T'kar more than anything.
"Your sister is responsible for this," T'kar said.
"She will be destroyed," Lilit said. "She is weak, and I am strong. I'm afraid your sorcerer will not stand a chance against her. Only I can destroy her."
T'kar pursed his lips. "No," he said. "I need you here. She will return someday, and then you may have her. For now, I need to know who leads these Northmen."
"Captain Jarka may have the missing pieces of the puzzle, Sire," Randar said. "When he returns, we can extrapolate said pieces and put them together to form a new plan."
"Stop speaking figuratively, Randar," T'kar said, still glaring at the arrow. "It's very annoying."
Randar chuckled. T'kar ignored him, but his frustration was killing him. He tossed the arrow away, growling as he glared at his food.
"I'm very angry," he said. "I need some amusement."
Randar and Lilit stared at him. He could feel it. But then, an idea crossed his mind. It was something he would find highly amusing.
"Lilit, my dear," he said. "Play along. Guards!"
The door burst open and two guards entered, their swords in their hands.
"Guards," T'kar said. "My new slave is being very insolent and disobedient. She needs broken in. Would you care to do the honors?"
The bigger of the two guards, the higher-ranking Corporal, sheathed his sword and began unbuckling his baldric.
"It would be my pleasure, Sire," he said.
The guard slowly approached Lilit, his grin wide and evil. T'kar glanced at Randar, whose crooked smile was pleasing.
"Have you been disobedient?" the guard asked.
Lilit smiled, cocking her head, raising her hand as if to stroke the guard's face.
She ripped it off instead.
The guard screamed, clutching his skinless face as he backed away horrified. Lilit formed a clutching shape with her hand, and the guard's own hands went to his throat as he was raised off the floor, lifted by Lilit's magic. He thrashed and flailed his legs as his lifeforce began to leach from his open mouth. It snaked its way toward Lilit's own mouth, until it suddenly began shooting out with a strong force that shook the room. The guard's body began to wither, and his armor fell of piece by piece.
T'kar glanced at Randar, he glanced back with a grin. The other guard shifted nervously, eyeing T'kar occasionally with a look of horror. Finally, Lilit dropped the lifeless guard, letting his body fall to pieces as it hit the floor. T'kar roared with laughter, slamming his fists onto the table.
"Now that was amusing," he howled.
He then turned to the other guard. "Would you like to try?"
The guard looked back at him wild-eyed. "No, Sire. I'm… um… no thank you."
"Fine," T'kar said. "Take a few of your fellows and go to the nearest village. I need you to gather a dozen fine young men, handsome and pure. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sire," the young guard said.
"They are to be unharmed. Is that understood, Corporal?"
The guard nodded, smiling slightly at the news of his promotion.
"Fine then," T'kar said. "Off with you."
As the new corporal exited, T'kar grinned at Randar, who shook his head, amused.
"I feel much better," the king said.
After Galik broke contact with T'kar, slightly perturbed by the prospect of the king's new seer, he began his journey back to the fortress. He crossed the Varg River using his magic, conjuring a bridge for himself, and now looked down where Bel stood guard over the horses.
He was relieved to see that at least one of his companions remained alive, but was disturbed by the sight of another figure walking north along the rocky shore. Evidently, Bel was unaware of the stranger's presence, as he lounged lazily against a tree stump that lay on the edge of a shorter cliff overlooking the water.
He growled, frustrated, knowing better than to try to get the incompetent sergeant's attention. Instead, he descended by levitating to the ground as quickly as he could, and then calling out to the man behind the cover of the horses. Bel shot up immediately, surprised to see the sorcerer return alone.
"Where is everyone else?" the sergeant asked.
"They're dead, fool," Galik hissed. "And here I find you lounging, instead of keeping guard."
"Keeping guard against whom?" Bel asked.
Galik grabbed Bel's head, turning it to the south so he could see the robed figure approaching. His eyes widened, and he grabbed his blade, crouching behind the nearest horse. Galik did the same.
"Who is it?" Bel asked.
Galik shrugged. He had no idea, either, although there was a strange familiarity. The figures robes were purplish in color, and the gait was quite obviously female. He supposed it could be Igraina, of all people, but there was far too much spring and youth to the figure's step.
"It's a young woman," Bel said, rising to a straighter position.
Galik pulled him back down, quickly, preparing a flame spell to be cautious.
"What?" Bel growled. "It's just a girl."
"Are you mad, fool?" Galik hissed. "Why would a simple woman be walking along the shore by herself?"
Bel looked back at the woman, his lips pursed in uncertainty. As they watched, she stopped near a rocky overhang, pausing for a moment, and then turning her head directly at them. Galik froze, and his black heart began racing. He had no idea why, but he suddenly felt terrified of this strange woman.
"Bel," Galik whispered. "Go see who she is."
Bel shot him a sideways glare, and Galik stared at him with his brow furrowed, and his lips curled.
"Do it," he insisted.
"No way," Bel shot back. "I don't take orders from necromancers. You do it."
Suddenly, they had no choic
e. With a wave of her hand, the horses scattered, all of them leaping up onto the grassy ledge nearby, leaving them both out in the open. Galik's spell hung on the tip of his tongue, ready to blast the stranger with fire if she threatened them in any way.
With a quick, mutual glance of horror, the two cautiously stepped forward. The woman began walking toward them, keeping her hands clasped in front of her and her face hidden within her cowl. The strange sense of familiarity grew stronger as they neared, and was slightly broken by frustration as Bel spoke.
"Who are you, woman?" the sergeant called out.
Damn him, Galik thought, readying his spell.
The woman's head rose, and long locks of red hair spilled out from beneath her cowl. Galik raised his hands, curling them into claws as the woman's green eyes focused upon him.
Igraina!
Bel was lifted into the air by an invisible force as Igraina reached out with her left hand. His throat was crushed immediately, and he hung limp just as Galik released his spell. The flames shot from his fingers, but were blown back as Igraina raised her right hand. Galik's robes were ignited, and he fell back, thrashing his arms and screaming out in agony.
He rolled on the ground, desperately trying to extinguish the fire, mouthing other spells to protect himself from Igraina as she approached him with a wide grin. He scrambled back, ignoring the pain, keeping his horrified eyes trained on her as she stalked him. Her robes began to billow when she raised her hands into the air, filling Galik with a sense of horror he had never felt before.
He knew he was doomed.
In one last ditch effort to survive, Galik cast a stone spell upon himself, rolling himself into a ball as his spell took effect. But he was too late. He felt the dreaded wave of ancient power that erupted from Igraina's outstretched hands, and heard the banshee-like keening of her final words.
The world went dark as his body was blasted into pieces.
Jodocus watched Igraina intently. He was impressed with her magical ability, regardless of where she had obtained it, and was even more impressed with her willingness to use it for a good purpose. The necromancer had been a frightening individual, despite his cowardice, and his existence was a bane to all of the good creatures of the island.
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