Ruined King (Night Elves Trilogy Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  As I lifted my quill to begin the next rune, a loud knock on my door interrupted me.

  “Odin’s arse,” I cursed under my breath as I crossed to the door. Opening it revealed the smirking face of my sister, Revna. Her shimmering platinum hair cascaded over a green gown that probably cost more than the entire Night Elf economy.

  “Galin, are you almost finished with the spell father ordered?” she asked as she slipped past me, into my room.

  “How lovely to see you, dear sister. Always a pleasure.” My voice dripped with sarcasm.

  She ignored me, plopping herself onto my sofa. She had brought an orange with her and began to peel it. “This sofa is comfy. Where did you get it?”

  “As much as I always enjoy our chit-chats, I’m afraid I have work to do.”

  “I’ll be quiet as a mouse,” Revna flicked a piece of peel onto my floor. “I like watching you work.” She cocked her head. “Particularly without your shirt on, with the candlelight sculpting those fine muscles.

  I said nothing.

  “We’re only half-siblings,” she ventured after a moment. “It’s been a thousand years, so we hardly feel like brother and sister anymore.”

  I clenched my jaw, disturbed by where she might be going with this.

  “In the old days, the monarchs always married their relatives to keep the bloodlines pure.”

  Another involuntary shudder. “Is this a personal challenge to see if you can make me vomit in record time? Perhaps you can try your charms on our lovely brother Sune.”

  “You haven’t seen a woman in nearly a thousand years while you were in prison. Oh, except that little tunnel runt.” She gave a dramatic shiver. “Anyway, Sune is not as fun as you.”

  “Fun? I’m a lethal warrior who spent the past thousand years as an imprisoned lich. Fun is not one of my strengths.”

  Revna rolled her eyes. “Fine. Sexy. Don’t you remember all the women who would try to sleep with you back before Ragnarok? You never really liked any of them, but they followed you like lovesick puppies. I’m sure you bedded plenty of them. But none of them were your equal, like I am. Don’t you remember—you were known as the Sword of the Gods, fearsome and beautiful. I never got a nickname like that, which seems a major oversight. You and I are equally paired, and now that your soul is returned, I find you appealing.”

  “Well, this has been a disturbing few minutes, but I must get back to my work. Would you like to go out through the door or the window?”

  “Oh, my lovely brother. That manacle on your mind”—she made air quotes—“will stop you from defenestrating me any time soon.”

  “Pity.”

  Revna’s eyes narrowed slightly, her calculating side revealing itself at last. “So, how much of your past do you remember?”

  Why was she asking that? “What do you mean?”

  “Do you remember me?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Horrible then, horrible now.

  Still, I studied her. She did look almost the same as before. It was hard to believe she was over a thousand years old, but once elves reach maturity, they age very slowly. King Gorm was nearly nine thousand years old, and he looked barely older than a fifty-year-old human.

  Revna’s fingers dug into the orange, and juice dripped onto my sofa. “Do you remember how you became cursed?”

  Most of my past life was clear as day—the battles, the blood, the glory. The spells I’d conducted in the mountains. It was only the last few years before I’d died that were hazy. I knew that I’d built a magic wall to protect the Night Elves, but in the centuries that had passed, the details had faded away. “I think the curse burned away some of my memories,” I finally answered.

  Revna’s eyebrows flicked upwards. “Well, that explains quite a bit.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Instead of answering, she walked across the room to stand next to me. The way her eyes lingered on my body had me reaching for a shirt.

  “So, what does this fortification spell do?” she asked. “The one father is so keen on.”

  “I’m sure you know. It will stop the Night Elves from trying to break free, by strengthening the wall. It will stop them from raiding Midgard.” In this, at least, my father and I had a common goal. If a battle erupted between the Night Elves and the High Elves, it wasn’t our side that would lose.

  Revna’s tone sharpened. “Why don’t you compose a slaughtering hex—something to do away with them for good?”

  How about I lock you in a dark prison forever once I become king?

  King Gorm and I had just fought bitterly over this very question. Just a few weeks ago, he had asked me to destroy the Night Elves once and for all. With the military campaign against the Night Elves stagnating, he desperately wanted me to design an apocalyptic magical weapon for that purpose.

  While I still had this thing on my head, I had to keep him reasonably satisfied, but I couldn’t help the High Elves overrun the Shadow Caverns. Fortunately, while the crown kept him protected from my wrath, it didn’t allow him to physically control me. So, the wall would remain. I was happy to keep the High Elves from advancing on the Night Elves.

  That was my one goal, now. A successful attack on the Night Elf realm could mean Ali’s death.

  I tried not to think of her too often; she disrupted my focus, and that would only delay my return to her. But the very effort of banishing her from my consciousness brought her beautiful face into my mind. Hair the color of snow; eyes that shone like moonlight on water; skin that had never seen the sun, smooth and unlined. … My heart ached to see her again.

  “Well?” Revna snapped, bringing me back to the present. “Wouldn’t it be better to just slaughter them, rather than expend all this energy trying to keep them contained?”

  “Revna,” I replied coldly. “You do remember, long ago, how easy it was for me to kill those around me? As you have pointed out, I can no longer do that. But are you so sure that will always be the case?”

  She paled. “Fine. I’ll leave.” She walked to my door, back stiff. I was just turning back to my work when she spoke again in a fluting voice. “I almost forgot. Father told me to tell you that we’re having a meeting after dinner. He said not to be late. But I should warn you. He has news that will make you want to murder him.” She cocked her head. “Too bad you can’t.”

  Chapter 3

  Galin

  The pair of guards were dressed in light armor, and they each gripped a wand buzzing with a killing hex. Together they flanked a set of gilded doors. Even though I was next in line to the throne, they glared at me. Probably because I’d eaten some of their friends while in prison. Not that I particularly cared.

  “I have a meeting with the king,” I announced as I approached.

  Without speaking, the guards pushed open the golden doors.

  The resplendent doors were only a prelude to the inside of King Gorm’s apartment. My father’s approach to interior design could be summed up in one word: gold. If it could be gilded, it was: the chair legs, the drapes, the velvet of the sofa. Even the toilet seats in the bathrooms were gold plated.

  Only the ceiling had been spared, and that wasn’t saying much. It was lavishly painted with frescoes of Elfheim: snow-capped mountains, primeval forests, and golden-haired elves in varying degrees of undress. Perhaps three words were needed to describe my father’s approach to interior design: gold and nudity.

  Instead of ruling to protect the best interests of his people, Gorm served only to enrich himself. In the ancient days, traitorous kings had been killed by being thrown from a tower. I thought that would be a fitting end for him.

  “You’re late.” My father’s voice tolled like a church bell as I stepped inside.

  He wore his usual shining robes and crown. At his hip hung the only non-gold metallic object in the room. Levateinn, a shimmering silver wand that had once belonged to the god Loki. That wand had saved me, but it had also forced me into my current situation.

 
Flanked by Revna and Sune, the king stood with his back to a row of massive windows. The remains of Boston’s frozen skyline spread out behind them, a constant reminder of what had been lost.

  I remembered how Boston had looked before Ragnarok. Sunlight had sparked off the water of the Charles River, Newbury Street had bustled with shoppers, and crowds of Red Sox fans had swarmed Fenway Park most every weekend. Granted, the Red Sox fans had been irritating, but I’d have been willing to tolerate them again if it meant smelling fresh grass and hearing birds sing again.

  Now, the river had long since frozen solid, and the only balls thrown in Fenway were made of snow. Even Boston’s iconic skyscrapers had crumbled under the weight of Ragnarok’s frosty embrace. Only the Prudential Center remained standing, an ice-encrusted reminder of a warmer time.

  “The spell?” the king prompted.

  “I have it. It will keep the Night Elves from breaking free of their dark caverns.” I strode towards my father, ready to press the parchment into his hands, but he stepped back.

  Even with the helm on, I scared him.

  It was instinct, and he was right to fear me. I was, after all, the most powerful sorcerer alive, and he had tried to kill me, then thrown me in a prison for a thousand years without a soul.

  “Sune will take that,” he said curtly. “I’ve been thinking we need a new approach to the problem of the Night Elves.”

  Revna’s eyes flashed with excitement, and Sune grinned. Icy fear began to crawl up my spine. That was a strange sensation; one I’d never felt until I’d met Ali. I’d never worried about my own life, but I feared for hers.

  “What new approach?” I snarled.

  Revna cut in, positively bursting with glee. “We’re going to call for a Winnowing!”

  Fear now stiffened my back. A Winnowing was a form of combat that would take thousands of lives—Night Elf and High Elf alike. What if Ali were chosen to fight? “Have you lost your minds? We can’t have a Winnowing now. Think of how many people would die.”

  “Why would you be afraid?” asked Revna. “We’ve all seen you in battle. The Sword of the Gods could kill all the Night Elves in just a few minutes.” Then, she added, “That is, if he wanted to.”

  “That’s right,” Gorm said, not noticing or not caring about Revna’s tone. “This is strictly an opportunity to destroy the Night Elves once and for all.”

  Never had I regretted anything more than I regretted wearing the helm at that moment. If I could get it off, all three of them would be dead within moments.

  As if sensing my anger, the king moved even farther away from me.

  “You can’t just call for a Winnowing.”

  Gorm’s pale eyebrows crept up his forehead. “I thought you’d be excited. A Winnowing is a chance to prove your worth. And you did always love killing, if I remember correctly.”

  “Only to serve the gods. To serve a greater purpose, and because Wyrd demanded it.”

  Another step back. Did he realize he was doing it? “This is a greater purpose. To show the world our power. Besides, you said this fortification spell will keep the Night Elves at bay. We should have plenty of time to hold a Winnowing without any of them escaping.”

  “The Night Elves will never agree to it.” Gods, I could only hope so.

  “Oh, but they have,” my father said, smiling smugly. “It’s already decided. I have sent word to the Lords of the Shadow Caverns. They have accepted my offer. The slaughter will begin in three days.”

  My jaw tightened. “Why would they agree to this? It will be a massacre.”

  Gorm shrugged. “They have no other choice. They rely entirely on one form of food—their mushrooms. But the mushrooms are blighted, you see. They are starving. Hundreds of children have already died, and they seem rather sentimental about that.”

  I wanted to strangle him. Darkness clouded my mind, and ice-cold rage. I needed to get to Ali.

  I turned away from him, stalking out of the room without waiting for a dismissal. Ali was in danger. I had to warn her.

  Chapter 4

  Ali

  Despite the grueling work and terrible food, it was sleep that I dreaded most. Every night, horror filled my dreams.

  The nightmare was the same each night. Galin would come for me in the caves. Golden hair and eyes shining, he’d stand before me, shirtless, with the dim light sculpting his muscled chest. He never spoke—it was worse than that. He simply flashed me a sly, cruel smile. His eyes twinkled with amusement, as if he knew with complete certainty what would come next.

  I’d tried everything—fighting, running, even hiding—but I could never escape him. He’d always find me, still flashing that lazy smile. Smelling like wood smoke and sage, he’d murmur words to me in a deep, purring voice, though I was never able to make out what he was saying.

  In the nightmare, my skin would heat, and an ache would build within me. And I found myself compelled to move closer to him, to wrap my arms around him, burning with need. He’d lift my skirt, kiss me hard, and take me against a stone wall, and I’d know that I’d failed. Again. That I’d given in to the cruel beauty of my worst enemy.

  I’d wake with a racing heart, horrified at myself but relieved to be alone.

  Here in the mines, I’d learned even more about what a monster he was, listening to the stories from the days before Ragnarok. In battle, he was known to leave entire legions dead, their blood staining the snow, carnage around him.

  He’d moved with a divine rage, the tales said, imbued with the spirit of Thor. Maybe his power drew me to him. The stories often told of the lovers who’d follow him around, hoping for his attention. Maybe he imagined I’d be the same. When I saw him again, I’d make sure he understood I wasn’t.

  When I woke, I lay on the cold stone of my prison cell, wondering what in Hel was wrong with me.

  I pushed away that terrible thought and stood gingerly, careful not to trip on the shackles that bound my ankles. Around me, I could hear the other prisoners sleeping, smell the stale air of the mine mixed with the stench of dirty bodies.

  Quickly, my Night Elf eyes adjusted to the darkness, and after a few seconds, I could see. Not that there was much to look at. The mine tunnel was as dusty and dark as it had been before I’d fallen asleep.

  To my right, it curved downward, towards the twisting warren of secondary tunnels where I spent my days. To my left, it rose upwards in the direction of the guard house and the Shadow Caverns. In the center of the tunnel ran a narrow track, the rails the mine carts rode along. Shackled to them, in either direction, were at least a hundred sleeping prisoners.

  I stretched my arms over my head as I tried to rid my mind of Galin’s sly smile.

  A few minutes later, a light flickered, and a guard’s voice cut through the darkness. “Wake up!”

  Around me, dark forms stirred, coughing and groaning. As the prisoners awoke, a pair of guards began to walk between the cart tracks. One guard pulled an empty cart behind him, while the other carried a long iron rod, which he used to prod a sleeping prisoner. “On your feet!”

  When the prisoner didn’t move fast enough, he brought the rod down on the prone form. There was a yelp of pain.

  “Time to get moving, mine-rats!” That was what they called us. Mine-rats, rock-slugs, ore-vermin. The condemned scum of Night Elf society.

  The guards continued along the mine track. One of the prisoners didn’t move even after they’d been hit with the rod a few times, and the guard in charge of whacking shouted, “We got a dead one.”

  My stomach clenched. With a practiced move, the pair of guards tossed the prisoner’s body into the formerly empty cart. By the time they’d reached me, they’d hoisted up four more bodies.

  Every morning was a reminder that we were expendable, to be used until we died or went mad. No elf lasted more than a year or two in the Audr mines. Death in darkness was the fate Galin had consigned me to—or so he thought.

  “Good morning, traitorous whore,” said one of the
guards as they reached me. I recognized him and the bandage on his nose immediately. This was the elf who’d made the mistake of smacking my ass.

  I smiled charmingly. “Morning. Oh, dear. Did you cut yourself shaving?” I asked.

  “Bitch—” The guard started to lunge for me, but his companion held him back.

  “Not now!”

  The guard with the injured nose growled something at me under his breath, but he followed his partner down the line of prisoners.

  When they reached the end, they turned around and began dragging the mine cart full of bodies back towards the guard house. This was unusual. Typically, when the guards reached the last prisoner, they would unlock our shackles so we could work.

  “What’s going on?” called out a prisoner.

  “Warden wants to see you vermin in the prison yard.”

  Around me, whispers rose, echoing off the stone walls. Something was up.

  The yard was the remains of an old vergr crystal deposit that had been emptied years ago, leaving a cavernous room that could easily fit a few thousand elves. We were supposed to visit the yard once every week for exercise like they do in most prisons, but they never took us. In fact, the only time I’d been to the yard was when I’d passed through on my first day in the mine.

  When the guards reached the top of the tunnel, they finally released the magical bindings on our shackles. As I began to trudge up after them, Hulda appeared at my side.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered. Apparently, whatever was happening was beyond her pay grade.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think they’re planning on punishing someone?” Hulda’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

  “Maybe.”

  Whatever they had planned, I was already envisioning how I might escape during it.

  Chapter 5