by J. A. Pitts
“Where did she meet this man?”
She finished drawing a large tree, with seven great branches. At the bottom, she drew a lounging dragon, and in the treetop, she drew a bird. “Buffalo,” she said. “He played the vaudeville circuit. Dressed as a woman and sang the most haunting ballads.”
“Ballads?”
For a moment, she was lost in thought; then she sang the first few lines of a sad song:
In a spot of land, where the rivers run
and the Glori Mundi bloom
I met a girl like the brightest star
A peck of Gallen, like the kiss I craved
Were not for such as me
The tune was haunting, lyrical, and melancholy.
“I don’t recognize all the words.”
She drew several large globes hanging off the tree she’d drawn, smiling up at me. “Young Katie would know,” she said.
I glared at her, and she laughed.
“Glori Mundi, and Gallen are apples. Teachers still get apples these days, do they not?”
Teacher … apples, yeah I got it.
“This tree,” she said, tapping on each branch, “is Yggdrasil.”
“Figured that when you said ancient ones,” I said, annoyed. I didn’t like that she knew Katie. Not one little bit. Oh, they’d met after the battle, but … I took a breath. Keep it under control. Just a quiet conversation about mythology. She’s not a threat. Not yet, in any case.
“Your friend, Bub,” she continued, tapping one of the left-side branches nearest the bottom of the tree. “He comes from Múspell, the land of fire.”
“Yeah, that much I got,” I said. “Of course, the World Tree is only a metaphor.”
It was her turn to look smug. “There are those—my mistress among them—that believe this tree to exist. One of her greatest regrets is losing her way to Yggdrasil. Not since her youth has she gnawed its hoary roots.”
“Sounds sexual to me.”
Qindra laughed, falling back to sit on her rear. “I have considered my mistress in many circumstances.” She had a bemused look on her face. “Like a parent, I guess, one does not consider them as sexual beings without trepidation.”
“Jean-Paul was one of hers, was he not?”
She sobered then, nodding once. “Blood kin, child of her bones, but loathsome to her in memory.”
Right evil bastard. May the devil drag his scaly carcass to hell before the good lord knows he’s dead. Or something like that. I spit to the side and waved the warding sign I’d picked up from Katie over the last couple of years.
Qindra nodded appreciatively and stood, brushing the dirt from the back of her slacks. I jumped up, as much to put us on even footing as anything else. “So, that all you got about Bub? His hometown?”
She shrugged. “I am learned in many things, Sarah. But there are mysteries I have not plumbed.”
“Fair enough.” I slipped my hands back in my pockets, toying with the amulet. “Where do you think he goes when he teleports away?”
“Damn good question,” she said and looked up sharply. “They are arriving.”
I turned and looked down the road. Several vans came toward us.
“You should take your mistress and leave here,” she said kindly, patting me on the shoulder. “What I have to do here will not be pleasant.”
“What about Anezka … or Bub, for that matter?” I asked, feeling suddenly out of control. I had an obligation to this place, to Bub and Anezka.
“We will deal with them, when and if they reappear.”
Julie came out onto the porch, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “Cavalry?” she asked.
I walked over to the house. “Yeah, scary, freaky exterminators,” I said.
“More along the lines of energy-management crew,” Qindra said, walking up to Julie. She held out her hand and shook it. “I would like to offer my condolences for your experiences of the spring,” she said. “My mistress regrets that one of her valued citizens would suffer at the hands of her own.”
Julie stiffened, but I shook my head. As if to say, not now, don’t get into it, but she was savvy. “I thank you for your kind words,” she said, giving Qindra’s hand a final shake, before letting her hand drop back to the head of her cane.
This brought a smile to Qindra. “If you would like me to help with your hip…” She shrugged. “I may be able to ease the pain.”
Julie looked at her, a long steady gaze. “No thank you,” she said, as sweetly as can be. “Nothing personal.”
Qindra bowed her head. “I assumed as much.” Her smile was genuine.
She walked us to the Taurus while the vans pulled along the side of the road. They were each a nondescript white, fairly shiny, enough to draw attention if anyone came this way.
Not like that would happen. No one exited the vans, however. Awaiting Qindra’s signal, no doubt.
Part of me was glad to be leaving the place. Since she’d broken the protective circle, I was feeling sicker and sicker being there.
“Oh, one more thing,” Qindra said, holding up one hand to stall us. She opened her car and dug in the glove box for a moment. As she swung around and shut the door with her hip, I could see she had a small box and an envelope.
I took the envelope from her first, slid out the single handwritten sheet of parchment, and read it.
Most Glorious Queen of the Night, Mightiest of the Mighty, She Who Must Be Obeyed,
We bring you tidings from the reaches of the far kingdoms. It is our great pleasure to offer you the nectar of the Gods. Not since the days of our most ancient fathers have the children of Durin provided such a wonder unto the world. The rumors of a mighty potion that sharpens the mind while allowing the voice to flow like honey are once again brought forth unto Migard by the humble yet crafty children of flame.
Please find the accompanying phial of this most excellent elixir. If it pleases you, we will auction the full vintage at a date and time to be disclosed upon final verification of your interest and ample time for fermentation.
Be advised, three of your estimable and worthy peers shall be included in this lively exchange. If it pleases you, follow the instructions that accompany the phial to contact us.
Yours in bondage
The Honorable Gentlemen of The Dragon Liberation Front
Beneath the signature was a large stamp of a dragon rising above a fallen warrior. Reminded me of various woodcuts I’d seen in medieval texts we studied in college.
I handed the note to Julie and accepted the box from Qindra. Inside, ensconced in Bubble Wrap, was a test tube with a thick layer of wax over what I assumed was a cork plug. Qindra nodded at me as I grasped the vial. It slid out of the package easily. Handling it was tingly, like a slight current ran through it. She watched my face as I took it from the box.
“Interesting,” I said, watching her watch me.
“You feel it, too, I guess.”
I nodded and held it up to the sky. It glowed in the milky light of the failing afternoon. It was amber with a hint of red, but slightly cloudy.
I never brewed my own mead, but Katie was a huge fan. This would be fairly early for a fine mead. Probably still rather yeasty, not mellow at all. No way of knowing how long it had been fermenting before they added the blood. Ari had been kidnapped only a couple of weeks ago. He was alive according to Skella and Gletts. Skella had said they’d bled him to make a test batch. Not enough to kill him right away.
However the mead might taste, and I had no urge to open the cork, I could feel the energy radiating outward. Just holding it in my hand gave me a thrill, like a tickle along my back brain. It felt powerful, and a little dangerous, in a good way. Almost sexual … primal.
“You know what this is made from?” I asked.
Qindra nodded. “I have heard rumors of such a potion from deep in the past. And I have certain ways of categorizing the type of magic represented here.”
Julie slid the letter into the envelope, handed it to Qindra,
and held her hand out for the vial. I let her have it reluctantly. I wanted to keep it, to possess it. I couldn’t imagine what a full tun of this would be like.
Julie eyed it, looking from me to Qindra, and shrugged. “I got nothing.”
Qindra smiled, and I took the vial back from Julie.
“It is a subtle power,” Qindra said. “It would take one who is very learned, or very sensitive, to detect it.” She held the box out for me to return the potion.
I slid it back into the Bubble Wrap nest with a twinge of regret.
“We need to test this, of course,” she said, closing the lid to the box, and holding it against her chest. “Blood magic is very old, very powerful.” She pointed toward Anezka’s place. “Not unlike what is unbalanced with your friend’s home.”
A shiver ran through me. I could feel something wild and chaotic swirling in the air, like the scent of a wounded beast.
Qindra seemed to sense it as well. She waved toward the vans, and they opened. Sixteen individuals climbed out of the four vans in full environmental suits, each carrying a pack, instrument, box, or, in two cases, caged animals: a cat and a large crow.
“I should see to this,” she said, patting me on the arm. “You should be on the other side of the mountains before full dark. I’d rather there be distance between you and your new trinket…,” she pointed to my pocket, “and whatever is happening here.”
I slid my hand into my pocket and felt the amulet. Was it part of the problem, or just tangled in its web?
“The amulet has claimed you, you realize,” she said, her features set, her face stern. “I believe it switched its allegiance to you when Anezka first let you handle it. That is when things began to unravel here.”
“Oh, great. So, part of this is my fault?”
Qindra shook her head. “Nay. Someone else is at play here. The amulet is a different issue. This place is a powder keg.”
Julie waved the keys in the air, alerting me to her getting in the driver’s seat.
“I need to know if Anezka or Bub comes back,” I said. “I’d rather they were safe and found shelter than…” I looked into her eyes, holding her gaze, “… otherwise.”
“I will do what I can,” Qindra said. There was a slight pause; then she bowed to me, a short dip that surprised me. I’d seen Mr. Philips bow like that, knew it as a way of showing respect. I bowed back, being careful to keep my eyes on hers. I had no intention of her believing I was less than her equal.
She grinned, and I knew she understood.
“Let me know,” I said, opening the passenger-side door.
The cleaning crew was running police tape around the property, nearly out onto the road.
“What will the neighbors say?” I asked.
She shrugged. “They will believe what we tell them. Gas leak, something unobtrusive yet threatening enough to keep them away.”
I shook my head. It was all about the words we believed, the words we told each other to make us behave in a certain way. The world was greased with the honeyed words of power brokers like Qindra and her mistress.
And they wanted the mead, the power to enhance their already-ill-bridled control over the populace.
She waved at us as we pulled away. I know she’d clean the place, or lock it down so none of Nidhogg’s other thralls would be entangled in the decay and chaos. I just couldn’t imagine what the payment for something like this would entail. Something I would be loathe to part with, I was sure.
I’d cross that bridge when the bill came due. In the meantime I had to do what I could for Anezka and even Bub, the little biter.
I closed my eyes as Julie did a three-point turn and left the space suits in our wake.
I’d be seeing Katie soon, be among friends. Didn’t mean I’d worry any less. Felt like running from a fight. It was a letdown, actually, a disquiet that I had abandoned my post.
Maybe being a grown-up was knowing when to take help and letting someone else clean up some of the messes.
Still tasted like failure to me.
Fifty-three
The day was starting to fade by the time we pulled into Black Briar. There were a dozen cars and trucks in the yard and a passel of folk. Gunther was directing a crowd to get a bonfire set up. Made me think back to the battle in the spring, how the giants and dragon had scattered that bonfire, setting smaller fires in the thick grass, making the battlefield that much more crazy.
I wandered over to the old barn while Julie hobbled into the house to see Deidre. She’d leave soon, but for now she wanted to be social.
I didn’t see Katie’s car. Stuart was helping a couple of young guys carry out one of the newly built picnic tables that could seat a dozen or more. They were lining them up along the side of the new barn; two others were already in place. No one seemed to notice me right away, so I stepped into the ruined barn.
Smells of damp and burned wood filled my nostrils. I’m not sure anyone had crossed over the ruined threshold into the barn proper since Maggie had ridden through the raging fire to attack Jean-Paul in her suicide mission to try and save Susan—or join her in death.
We knew the ground was tainted, so there could be no fires anywhere the dragon had flamed or bled. Not until the ground was purged clean. We’d lit candles just after the battle, and the fires had roared a dozen feet into the sky, consuming the candles and threatening to leap over to unscorched grass.
Not something we wanted to repeat.
I wandered out past the bonfire, along the north edge of the fields, where the valley opened up and the ground fell away, toward a copse of trees I’d visited after the battle. I’d been brutally wounded but was chasing Jean-Paul in his dragon form.
In that copse I’d found the winged horses of the Valkyrie—met Gunnr, the stunningly beautiful and intoxicating warrior woman who made me forget my own name for a moment … but not Katie’s. I smiled at that. A kiss was her price to take her elegant steed Meyja.
She’d told me to call her name and she’d come to me. I could almost smell her for a moment, a shadow of leather and cloves.
I sat on the grass and took out the amulet, turned it over in my hand and watched the valley below slide into shadow. Where are you, Bub? Anezka was crazed, but still he stole her away, to save her, I’m sure.
I hoped she didn’t kill him, or herself. If Qindra could purge the house, maybe Anezka could gain some sort of life back. She had been stable. Not normal, but I didn’t have a good barometer for what passed for normal these days. Maybe Qindra was right. I flipped the amulet over, saw that the runes were shadowed in the palm of my hand. I concentrated for a moment, willing the damn thing to chill. I didn’t want it melding with me.
The runes glowed bright for a second, and I felt a flash of heat run up my arm. Then it started to dim back to low glow. My hand was free of marks. I straightened the chain against my leg, stroking the twisted links, letting my mind wander over to the other problem.
Durin’s folk, the mead, the dragons and their need to control the world. And what of the things Qindra had mentioned? Things worse than dragons.
Skella had been scared, but she’d gone with Gletts. Not that he seemed particularly bent one way or another about her. I took it on faith that he loved her, the sibling that she was. But he was wary, wild. There was something about him—a coldness that spoke of pain and fear. They’d grown up under the open aggression of dragons, suffered the demented whims of Jean-Paul and his cronies. The dwarves had helped the elves, sort of. They were only learning now what a deal with the devil that was.
I sat in the clearing, pulled a long blade of grass from the cool earth, and sucked the tender tip. It tasted clean, not like the sour smell that filled my head.
In the distance I heard more people arrive and music start up. I sat there, lost in the peace of the trees, the ocean of darkness that swallowed the valley below.
I’d flown over that valley, felt the brush of the first rays of dawn above the clouds. It had been a moment
of freedom amidst the death and chaos of the night’s battle. I yearned for that clarity, that moment of freedom when there was only one path, only one right thing.
I stood, turned from the valley, and looked back at the house. There were my family, my friends, and my lover. That was where I belonged, not out here away from the maelstrom of joy and love.
I let the slip of grass fall from my mouth and crossed back through the trees. I slipped the chain over my head, settling the amulet against my chest. It felt right there, warm and comforting.
Time to join the real world again. Maybe this time to solve a problem, instead of fleeing one.
Fifty-four
As I walked back, music started and the crowd broke into a rowdy cheer. Katie was on the deck singing and playing her guitar, along with a couple of other folks. They were new: one was a young woman with an Autoharp, and the other a young man with a mandolin. Gunther sat on the edge of the stage, and Stuart stood next to the tapped keg with his arms crossed and his eyes sweeping the crowd. He looked vigilant.
I felt my heart soar. The music swelled, and Katie’s voice washed over the crowd:
Blacksmith, warrior, giant-slayer, friend.
Sarah flew across the gray of the dawn
pursuing the bastard Duchamp
carrying the battle to the North.
She’d written a song about me. Was that the surprise she’d promised me? I couldn’t breathe for a moment, overwhelmed with emotion. I didn’t want this, didn’t want to be part of a song or a tale. I just wanted to live my life, protect those I cared for.
The clan clapped and stomped, cheering the musicians on, and Katie’s voice rose, filling the world with her song.
I slowed, afraid to approach the crowd. Maybe Katie thought to draw me back to the fold. That would be like her, the sneak. I smiled and took a deep breath. No use fighting it, I reckoned. She was gonna be who she was, and I had no desire to change her. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.