Into the Light (Axe Druid Book 1)

by Christopher Johns

  She closed her eyes for a moment and seemed to ponder my words. She opened them, and a steely look entered into her gaze that made my heart skip a beat.

  “This is it!” she growled triumphantly. “This is where I shall make my mark in the annals of our history! This is a feeling I have not had in centuries! Oh, Zekiel! You have given me purpose again with this!”

  I smiled despite the situation and put a hand out to try and calm her, then pulled it back, thinking better of it.

  “As far as I am aware, these Generals can sense when the denizens of this world approach them and go into hiding. Why, I don’t know, but we are their blind spots. They can’t see my friends and I. That’s the advantage we have—well, had. I don’t know how that asshole knew we were coming, but we have to stop him—all of them—to save this planet and our own.”

  Maebe clapped her hands and stood up. She began to pace back and forth in front of me, thinking to herself. She clapped again and a smile spread across her beautiful face.

  “If I can’t do anything other than be of use to your cause, then I will do all that I can, and I will be able to have my fun. This still aligns with my plans, but there will be other minor changes to take care of. What have you and your party need of? I know of the need for clothing, but other gear? Oh, your new clothes simply must be better made than what I had coming to you.”

  She clapped her hands together once more, and it sounded like lightning. “SVARTLAN!”

  The door to the room opened behind us, and the Orc rushed in. “Darkest Lady?”

  “Scratch the order for the functional clothes. These fellows are warriors and will represent me in the Prime realm. I want you to use my personal reserve of materials as you see fit to the specifications that each will give you. You may interview Zekiel right now for his desires. Zekiel, my pet, please tell Svartlan of your capabilities. Anything you would desire for clothing and how it might best serve you.”

  I told the Orc about my class, several of my abilities, my combat style, and anything else I could think of. The tailor nodded and jotted down several notes on a pad he had produced from his pocket. He asked me to pull out my weapon and show him how I move with it, and the queen nodded her assent.

  I equipped Storm Caller and went through several motions and movements with the weapon that I was prone to in a fight. He made a few more notes, asked me to hold a position for a moment, and asked how clothing usually felt from that angle, if it felt confining or restrictive. It was more in depth than I had ever even imagined a tailor would go. I had to admit I was even more impressed with the green man.

  The queen came over to where I stood and took the great axe into her delicate hands. Like with the huge platter of food, her size didn’t do anything toward letting me know her strength—because she took a couple swings with the monstrous weapon one handed,

  “This is excellent work,” she said after a moment.

  “It was made by Granda of the Stone Hammer Clan in Djurn Forge. He made almost all of our weapons himself. It’s an amazing piece. Do you want me to tell you what it does? Shellica of the Light Hand Clan enchanted it.”

  “No need. I can tell just by looking at it what sort of spells are laid into it. Tell me, what sort of abilities have you unlocked with it?” I informed her, and she smiled.

  “Well done. Those seem potent. I feel as though my champion will be able to assist you in learning more about this sort of weapon as he is fond of axes himself. You can meet him in the morning if you would like?” I fought the urge to leap up and shout for joy and simply nodded enthusiastically. “Yes? Okay good. Anything else, Svartlan? Chop chop, dear.”

  The Orc left the room at a bolt, and the door slammed behind him.

  “I can’t wait to see what he makes,” I said as I watched him leave.

  “Svartlan will serve us well in this. He has been making clothing for me since I met him centuries ago. He did so well that I had to make him immortal.”

  I chuckled at the thought nervously. I was beginning to see that she got her way. Always.

  “And you desired that we will be your what now?”

  “My champions!” she said excitedly. She rushed toward me and sat me down facing her, my hands in hers. “You and your friends will go back to face this nuisance plaguing our planet with my personal backing and whatever support I can give you. In exchange, I get a few things out of this. One, a new purpose. I can both protect my realm and expand my influence into the Prime realm through you and representatives that I will send with you when you are to return. Two, I get to stick my foot squarely up that uppity bitch in the Seelie Court’s rear while I do it. Oh, this is the feeling I have missed.”

  She looked at me then, the feral baring of her teeth showing brightly. “Thank you, little fox. You have given me purpose again. How shall I reward you? Speak up, now. Don’t be shy.”

  I thought about it for a moment. Some might ask for riches, others for status, and all for power, but I had this nagging feeling that she expected all of those; that wasn’t me. Not truly. Thinking back to our conversations and what I could gather from them, I smiled right back at her.

  “I would like to be your friend,” I said gently.

  She looked confused. Genuinely confused. I could almost hear the workings of her thoughts, that of a Fae being long used to the political intrigue of a powerful court such as her own. Nothing was without an ulterior motive, and here all I seemingly wanted was her friendship.

  “I must say that I don’t know what it is that you have in mind by that,” Maebe admitted while eying me down. “What do you possibly hope to gain?”

  “You didn’t leave anything out about those wards and enchantments, did you?” She shook her head. “No. I thought not. Did they tell you that I was lying? That my intent was anything other than what I said?”

  “No, but why?”

  I shrugged. “All of these conversations we’ve had have pointed to something glaringly obvious. No matter how powerful you are, you’re lonely. All of these servants, the people you control and are responsible for, and you have no one to spend time with who you can trust or confide in. Not really. Not without having to wonder if they have a knife at your back, ready to strike when you are most vulnerable. Where I come from, there are friendships a lot like that, but the way I grew up, friends were a rare treat—the relationship a reward in its own right. I chose my friends because I see them as family.”

  I watched her face as she sat there, blank of all expression. Her bearing became an unreadable mask.

  “I apologize if I have caused any affront to you, Lady Darkest. You told me to be honest, and I let my tongue wag too freely. I’ll go. Thank you for your gracious hospitality and your time.”

  I stood and offered what I hoped to be a courtly bow, simplified if anything. I stepped back two paces and turned to leave, then tripped over something and face planted into another couch. I felt my cheeks begin to heat, and I hurried to my feet. A small splutter of laughter in my left ear grabbed my attention. It was Maebe. She was levitating again, her hand over her mouth trying to hide her smile.

  “Stay, please?” she asked. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to so much honesty and blunt speaking. It gave me a bit of a start.”

  “Blunt—sounds like me. I am about as subtle as a bear on a raft,” I smiled and continued, “‘bout as graceful as one, too.”

  She laughed again and smiled at me before landing softly on her feet and stepping forward until she was close enough to smell. Her scent was soft and alluring like the rest of her, a subtle, earthy musk with coconut finishes. It was a good scent.

  “Friendship is its own reward,” she mused out loud. “Then I will reward us both. I would be glad to call you my friend, Zekiel Erebos.”

  This was a complete one-eighty from the Maebe—no, the queen—she tried to make everyone see all the time. She seemed softer. Less likely to freeze me at a moment’s notice. Maybe this was Maebe behind closed doors?

  Who she really
was?

  “My friends call me Zeke.”

  “Then you may call me Mae.”

  “I’d be happy to, Mae.”

  She grinned at me sweetly. I stepped forward and pulled her into a gentle hug. She stiffened for a moment, then seemed to decide she liked the contact and returned the embrace.

  “It’s late,” I observed. We had been talking and eating for a while, and I had to admit I was tired.

  “It is,” Mae agreed. “You can retire to your own room, or if you would like, you can spend the night here with me. I would like to keep my first friend close, if that counts for much?”

  I chuckled. I could understand, and her bed did look rather large. Not to mention all of the spacious couches she had. I could sleep on the one we had used; the damned thing was so soft and inviting.

  “Okay. I’ll spend the night here.”

  She took my hand in her own and led me to the bed where we sat up for a little while longer and chatted about our very different lives. She spoke about some of the members of her court that my other friends and I should take note of or watch out for, and I spoke about my son. She may not have known love or what it was like to feel a parent’s love, but she seemed fascinated by the stories I told her about him, about the emotions that the anecdotes evoked in me.

  After a little while, she ended up using my chest as a pillow and fell asleep while I stroked her hair. Her soft breathing was comforting, especially after having been through all the things that we had been through in Brindolla—all the fighting, the death, the struggle. Every inch we fought for.

  I had to admit, I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was back on Earth, but my friends being here helped make me stronger. They lent me their strength, and I did the same for them, and now, I had a new friend.

  Granted, yeah, she could rip my head off and use it as a doorstop. There was also the veritable army of frozen people in her throne room, but she had her own problems. We all did, and that’s okay. She had me to help now; maybe I could convince her to free them. I had her friendship, too, and she was damned near forcing her help on us. I was okay with that, or at least I could be, right?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  When I woke up, my eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, and I was surprised to see Maebe sitting on the edge of the bed staring at me. I fought the urge to jump, barely, and smiled at her groggily.

  “Hey, did I oversleep?”

  “No, my kind needs little sleep; one so old as I am doesn’t need much at all, so I’ve just been occupying myself.”

  I didn’t want to ask how because I could imagine what that had been.

  “Breakfast?” she asked, gesturing toward where we had eaten last night. There were cheeses, eggs, and smoked meats. I could smell it now, and my stomach grumbled at me angrily for making it wait.

  “Please,” I said as I swung my legs off of the bed. We ate together in amiable silence for a few minutes. Then I asked her about events to come.

  “Well, as I said last night, I would be happy to introduce you to my current champion. While the two of you do whatever it is you do, I will see to the demands of my station. There is much to do before my court arrives, and I have more to do if everything is to go smoothly. It will. My staff will work diligently as I expect them to, and I will lead them into this new, glorious age of the Unseelie.”

  I nodded over my forkful of eggs. She politely waited for me to finish a few minutes later, and we were off. She took me through her labyrinthian hallways, out a door to our right, and we were in a brightly lit courtyard. It reminded me of the training grounds the Mugfist Clan had under Djurn Forge.

  “Thogan, I’ve brought you a guest,” shouted Maebe.

  “Ye don’ need ta shout, yer Majesty. I hears jus fine,” a deep bass voice to our left said.

  A brawny figure clad in black plate armor stepped into fire light, and I could see it was a Dwarf, but not the kind I had seen before. His skin was craggy and pitted like stone the color of midnight with diamonds sprinkled throughout it, like a mirror of the queen he served. His head was bald, and he had beard as dark as his skin. Golden eyes watched me intently before the figure knelt before his lady.

  “This is Zekiel Erebos. He and his party are favored by me, and you will show him the same courtesy you would any guest of the court. He himself uses the axe, much like you, and I thought it prudent he meet you.”

  “Aye, Majesty.”

  “Good day then, Champion.”

  He grumbled something along the same lines to her as she turned and graced me with a smile before leaving.

  Once she was gone, the Dwarf rose to his feet and turned away. There was a barrel to my left, and he went to it. He took a ladle that had been in it, served himself whatever was inside, and sighed a frustrated sigh.

  “Reckon yerself good with the axe?” he asked, still facing the barrel.

  “No.”

  He turned to eye me. Either that wasn’t what he expected to hear, or he thought I was lying. He knew nothing about me, so I could probably say it was safe to assume he didn’t know if I was truthful or not. He went back to grimacing at the drink in the ladle. So I tried for one of the traditional Dwarven greetings that I’d learned from my time in Djurn Forge with Brawnwynn.

  “By the Mountain, that’s got to be the ugliest gob I’ve ever seen.” I smiled hopefully. It had gotten me good results before.

  The Dwarf was rigid one second; then an iron axe was at my throat before I could so much as blink. I hadn’t seen him move.

  “I be bearin’ no insult by the unproven and he who isn’t me kin, guest,” he growled at me. His eyes were full of murderous intent. “Been gone from me homeland for nigh on fourteen hunnerd years, and not seen kin since. Ye will nah disrespect me memory of me folk. Best be believin’ me. I’ll slit ye throat an’ take me lumps from the Lady Darkest, I will. Mark me.”

  “Sir, I follow the Way,” I said. Sweat began to bead behind my right ear, and it tickled like hell. I didn’t dare scratch, lest he decide to make good on his word.

  “Speak the tenets then, boy, and quickly,” he said, his eyes taking on a crazy look.

  “To use the strength of my arm to help the weak and those in need. To share the stories of my brothers over mead and sing their praises. On the Way, we are all equal.”

  He looked at me steadily, not budging, but not cutting my head off either.

  “The hammer falls,” I said softly.

  “And rises again,” he whispered back.

  “The forge was hot.”

  “The mead was cold.”

  “The Mountain made us.”

  “Dwarves the Bold.” He closed his eyes as the final word left his lips and dropped the axe away from my throat.

  I took a risk and put my hand on his shoulder. “The Way is long and winding, brother.”

  A tear formed in the corner of his right eye, and he fell to his knees with a great thud before he finished the saying, “But never are we alone.”

  “I am Zekiel Erebos, part of the party who slew the Bone Dragon killing the Forests near a small village. Bane of Goblins and the protector to the heir of Lightning, Kayda, Lightning Roc. I am blessed by Mother Nature. I am friend of Clan Mugfist, who took me into their own and helped me take my first steps along the Way. I am friend to your Queen.”

  He stood with a genuine smile and pulled me into a fierce hug, heaving me to and fro with great sobs of joy. He thanked the Mountain that I knew the secret phrases of those who followed his religion.

  “Yer alright, lad. I be Thogan Swiftaxe.” He clapped me on the back and pulled me toward the barrel. “Share some of this piss-poor swill they call mead with me and tell me your tale.”

  He grimaced as he drank some from the ladle, and after having a sip, I could second his choice of naming it piss-poor mead.

  “Ugh,” I groaned. He smiled sadly and shrugged.

  I quickly told him about everything that had happened. He asked a few questions about our time under the mo
untain but otherwise listened respectfully. He raised the ladle in my honor and drank deeply.

  “What I wouldn’t do for a taste of good, Dwarven mead.” He belched loudly. “You don’t happen to have any, do you?”

  I checked my inventory; I didn’t, but I thought I knew someone who might.

  “Can you have someone go grab my friend Balmur?”

  He nodded and motioned to a servant that I hadn’t seen. She was an Elf like some of the ones I had seen on my way here. She nodded and left after receiving her orders.

  We waited for about half an hour, discussing his time here in solitude away from the Prime plane when a light knock sounded from the door.

  “Enter!” Thogan called.

  The Elf servant came in followed by Balmur.

  “The Mountain is GOOD!” bellowed Thogan as he bum rushed Balmur.

  The two Dwarves ended up in a pile on the floor with Thogan laughing and Balmur reaching for his weapons.

  “It’s okay, Balmur. He’s cool.”

  “Shit, man, warn me next time!” shouted the Azer Dwarf. “Where have you been? We thought she killed you.”

  “It’s a long story, dude.” I sighed. “I’ll explain it to all of you if we can all get together, but for now, I have a question. You have any mead from our time at Djurnforge?”

  He smiled and pulled out a small barrel, about two feet tall and a foot wide. He popped the cork off the top of the cask and pulled out a set of earthenware cups. He poured mead into each and handed one to me, then Thogan. The champion looked as if he was going to weep openly again and looked to us for approval. We held out our cups and tapped them together in a silent toast. We watched as the stoney Dwarf savored every last drop of his cup. Then we watched as a tear escaped.

  “This be the best mead I ever had.” He sniffled at us. “Thank ye, cousin.”

  “No problem, man.”

  “Now, what can I do for ye, Zekiel?”