Iron Axe

by Steven Harper

  Danr picked up Alfgeir’s pitchfork and effortlessly snapped the handle in two. “Eleven years’ pay.”

  “I don’t have it,” Alfgeir temporized. But his face told Danr he was lying.

  The monster growled again. Danr could so easily encircle Alfgeir’s neck with one hand. He could so easily squeeze until Alfgeir’s eyes bulged.

  Be gentle, be kind, said his mother’s voice in his head. They expect you to be mindless and violent. Do not give them the satisfaction of being right. Danr remembered White Halli and took a deep breath.

  “Don’t lie to me, Alfgeir,” he said softly. “Other people may think you’re generous, but I know better. You so generously let my mother bond herself to you in return for food and shelter, and then you made her live in a stable and eat scraps. You so generously let her cough up her lungs with the animals when your warm fire could have saved her. You so generously worked her son like a beast until he was exiled for defending an innocent. And you will now so generously give me eleven years of silver.”

  “I don’t have it,” Alfgeir repeated, more stubbornly this time.

  With a roar, Danr grabbed the front of Alfgeir’s tunic, hauled him up to eye level—

  —and stared. Alfgeir had splinters, one in each eye. Wooden splinters. Just as the Three had said.

  A strange sound started low in Danr’s belly, then abruptly exploded from his throat. The sound swelled and echoed off the mountains high above Alfgeir’s farm. Danr was laughing.

  Trolls worked with stone, he thought, but humans worked with wood. Each group saw beauty in itself and ugliness in the other because the splinters clouded their vision. He had known that, the Three had as much as told him that, but now he could see it, and it was … funny. Foolish and funny, both at once.

  “I wish I understood the joke,” Aisa said. “It would be a fine thing to laugh so.”

  Alfgeir, meanwhile, mistook Danr’s mirth for something more sinister and squirmed in desperation. “I can pay! I can pay!” he squeaked.

  Danr laughed again and opened his hand. Alfgeir hit the ground and scurried into the house.

  “Some food wouldn’t go amiss, either,” Aisa called after him while Norbert gaped.

  He returned moments later with most of a ham, a loaf of dark bread, and a clay jar. The latter clinked.

  “Father!” Norbert gasped. “You owe him nothing! He’s a filthy beast! His mother was a troll’s slut!”

  Aisa gasped. Danr turned like a mountain noticing a mouse. “Say that again, Norbert. Like you mean it.”

  “Are you going to break my arm again, beast?” Norbert said, though his face was pale.

  “The one you’ve been lying about all this time? The one that doesn’t pain you one bit? The one that gets you out of work when it suits you?” Danr reached out and grabbed Norbert’s shoulder. “This arm?”

  “Spread tales,” Norbert said through clenched teeth. “No one will believe you, or see you as anything but a monster.”

  The queen’s torc lay heavy around Danr’s neck. He took a grip on the monster inside him. “We used to be friends, Norbert. We could be again. This”—he shook Norbert’s shoulder slightly—“could be the embrace of a brother, or the grip of an enemy. You decide.”

  There was a beat, a quick pause. Danr saw Norbert consider, but only for a second.

  “I was never friends with the son of a troll’s slut,” he snarled. “Never!”

  Danr sighed, truly sad. “As you like.” He gave Norbert a slight shove. Norbert backpedaled with a yelp and dropped straight into the half-finished well. A muffled squelch and another yelp reported him hitting bottom.

  “The day is filled with surprises.” Aisa sidled up to Alfgeir and took the food and the jar from his numb fingers. “The prince ambassador is thrilled to receive your tribute, Carl Oxbreeder. We shall consider it the beginning of goodwill between our people.”

  “Tribute?” Alfgeir echoed dumbly. “Prince?”

  “Indeed, sir. The great one who stands before you is the nephew of Queen Vesha of the Stane, Lady of the Underworld, Ruler of the Cavern Kingdom, Commander of the Dark Armies.”

  And she did something that Danr didn’t see, but which made Alfgeir yip and sketch a little bow.

  “As you were,” Danr said before Alfgeir could recover. “We will consider your offering when the rest of the giants, trolls, and dwarves begin to arrive, Carl Oxbreeder.”

  “Help!” Norbert shouted faintly from the bottom of the well. By now, Alfgeir’s wife and other sons were watching from the farmhouse door.

  “The … rest?” Alfgeir repeated.

  “Yes. My people are coming. All of them. They wish to speak to the Kin in kindness and friendship. Many of the doors aren’t far from your farm, so you’ll see a whole lot of them—us—very soon.”

  Algeir looked desperately about, as if the trees beyond the pasture might sprout heads and walk toward his farm. “Oh. Er …”

  “Good day, Carl Oxbreeder,” Aisa said brightly. “We will probably never meet again, and that is a fine thing.”

  Aisa put food and silver in Danr’s sack. Together, they left the farm and strode down the road toward the village. Danr felt eyes on him as he and Aisa walked in warm spring air, but no one followed. Clouds skittered across the sun, and a breeze muttered in the ash trees. When they were a safe distance away, Danr’s legs gave way. He dropped to the side of the road like a young tree and let out a heavy breath.

  “I can’t believe I did that!” he puffed. “Hoo!”

  Aisa stood beside him. Even seated on the ground, he was nearly as tall as she was standing. “You mustn’t do that, Hamzu. You are a prince now, and must always act it.”

  He blinked. “What did you call me? Hamzu?”

  “Oh!” She put a wrapped hand to her mouth, or the place where it would be, if Danr could see it for the scarves. “I spoke by mistake!”

  “It’s the name you made for me!”

  “Now, that is unfair,” she protested. “I haven’t forced your name from you!”

  “I like it,” he said softly. “Thank you, Aisa.”

  “I …” Her eyes softened. “You are welcome. It means ‘strong one.’ Hamzu.”

  His eyes held hers for a moment. He had to look up just a little, and that disconcerted him almost as much as her quiet brown gaze did. He wanted to touch her, take her rag-bound hand. His heart beat at the back of his throat, and he even reached forward a little. But then he took a small moment to peer at her through his left eye, something he hadn’t done with her before.

  Knowledge rushed over Danr as his vision pierced the rags and scarves that wrapped Aisa’s body, and he saw her as she really was. Hungry, always hungry for the touch and voice of her former elven owner, and more hunger for something else, a longing for something he couldn’t name or understand. That something was near the water. The ocean. A soft thrill touched Danr. Aisa was free now and could go wherever she liked. But instead of running to the ocean to fulfill that longing, she had followed Danr underground. True, she had said she was in his debt for saving his life, but hadn’t that been repaid when she stole the eye from the Three for him?

  Tenderness made his heart swell, and he wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around her and make her feel safe. He was about to reach for her, was just doing so, in fact, when Aisa drew back a tiny bit and Danr saw one more thing: fear. Deep, overwhelming fear. Aisa was frightened. Danr froze. He hadn’t done anything to scare her, had he?

  And then he remembered how Aisa had been … hurt. By both elves and men. It occurred to him that Aisa didn’t really see him as a man, and she would be truly frightened by him if he reached out to her as one. Clearly she saw him as nothing more than a friend, a strange, half-troll friend. A monster. Something in him died, and with difficulty, he dropped his hand.

  But then he thought, maybe if they stayed together long enough, she could overcome that fear and see him as something besides just a friend. The idea gave him hope.
r />   “Well, we should move along,” he said gruffly, and got to his feet. “Princes can’t afford to waste time. Want some ham?”

  Aisa finished backing up a step. “I … would. Thank you.”

  “I seem to be collecting names,” he said as they walked, more to fill the silence than anything else. “Trollboy. Truth-Teller. Hamzu. Prince Ambassador.”

  Aisa munched a bit of ham with some bread. “An ambassador who cannot lie. This could be awkward.”

  Rather than deal with the village, they decided to skirt the place entirely, not caring if they walked through a field or not. They did pass the grove where Danr had set the table and the two corpses of the Noss brothers. Someone had gathered the courage to burn the table, leaving the brothers’ lumpy black remains behind. The draugr drifted toward Danr, reaching with their ragged bandaged arms. Their voices were ice on the breeze.

  “Release!”

  Danr felt no fear this time. He closed his right eye and saw them for what they were—frightened spirits caught halfway between worlds. A thin silver thread ran away from each draugr and vanished toward the mountains in the distance. Danr tightened his lips. He felt sickened at the thought of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people who had died all over the world in the last few days and were now unable to pass through Death’s door. Worse, still more would die in the days to come.

  “I’ll help you,” he told them. “I promise.”

  The two draugr faded back to the grove.

  “How will you help?” Aisa asked as they walked away. “By becoming an emissary and speeding up the upcoming war with the Fae, or by finding the Iron Axe and releasing Death?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Danr admitted. He looked about at the gathering spring evening. The trees were fully green, and yellow flowers poked shyly through new grass. “It doesn’t feel like war is coming.”

  “In a few weeks, all this may be burned and dead,” Aisa said. “War, like that wrym you fought, can come from nowhere.”

  “Does the grass die now?” Danr wondered aloud. “Do animals and birds?”

  “I do not know that such things are important,” Aisa said. “We have twenty-six days left to find the Iron Axe, but we are also required to talk to a man who nearly had your head cut off for the beating you gave his son.”

  Danr winced at the reminder. Aisa continued her way up the road without breaking stride. He pulled his hat down more firmly on his head and trotted after her. “Do you ever feel guilt, Aisa?”

  “For what? The pain of a man who intended to see me dead? Who took me into my former master’s stable and used me because it amused him? Who put dozens of innocent men in prison to make himself look good to his father? Guilt? Pah!” She spat. “I should feel more guilt when a wasp is crushed by a horse.”

  “Guilt devours you, Aisa,” Danr said seriously. “More painfully than the wasp.”

  “Then it’s good I feel none. How much longer to Skyford?”

  The road and the gate outside Skyford were all but deserted, but spread out on the far side of the river, well past the city, were dozens of flickering fires, like fireflies fastened to the ground. The smell of smoke was heavier than usual. For a moment, he was back underground.

  “What’s going on?” Danr said, shading his eyes. He could just make out men moving among the fires. Tents were pitched in neat rows. “Another army camp?”

  “I doubt we’ll find the answers up here on this hill,” Aisa said.

  They arrived at the Skyford gate just as the soldier manning it was closing up for the night. It was the same young man who had let Danr in before, and he recognized Danr. He jerked his pike toward Danr’s chest. “You’re an exile. And the earl has put a price on your head.”

  “I doubt you’ll collect it with a pig poker,” Aisa observed.

  Danr pulled himself up. Now that he was among humans again, this was an impressive sight. The guard looked up at him with an open mouth. The pike quivered. Danr casually plucked it from the boy’s hands with meaty fingers and tapped the gleaming gold torc at his neck with the iron blade.

  “As this torc proclaims, I am Prince Truth-Teller, nephew to Queen Vesha, Lady of the Dark Lands, Commander of the Stane Armies, and Merciful Ruler of the Mountain Roots. And I require an escort to the earl in his keep.”

  The guard still wavered. Danr handed him three silver coins from the jar in his bag. It was more than the guard made in a month. That decided the matter.

  “Sir!” the young guard said, and bowed. “It would be an honor to escort you.”

  “I think we’ve learned our first lesson in diplomacy,” Aisa murmured as he led them through the darkening streets.

  “What’s your name, guard?” Danr asked, ignoring her. He was trying to think.

  “Filo,” the guard said. “Son of Egil.”

  Danr looked at Filo through his left eye only. Filo changed. There was fear in his posture, but also hunger and a need to please. Danr thought a moment and handed him the pike.

  “I’ll need some help while I’m here, Filo Egilson,” Danr said. “You seem to be … alert and on top of your duties. It will pay well. Are you for it?”

  “Er … thank you, my lord.” His suspicion seemed to be wavering. “But I’m in the earl’s guard, and I can’t become a personal—”

  “I’m not looking for a guard. I need eyes and ears around Skyford. I’ll pay for all the bits of information you and a few trustworthy friends can bring me, no matter how small.” He gave Filo two more coins. “I know you’re the right person for the job.”

  Filo looked at the coins and nodded hard. “Yes, sir, my lord! I’m your man, my lord!”

  “Excellent, Filo, son of Egil.” Danr gave him a grin. “You’re a smart man.”

  “Lesson two,” Aisa said.

  Filo marched ahead of them, his pike held high. Danr made a mental note—five pieces of silver and a need to please went a long way. How much further would silver take him? And how much easier would his life have been, Stane blood or not, if he had been born into a rich family? It was another truth: money had more power than blood.

  “Make way for the prince!” Filo boomed. “Make way for the emissary prince!”

  And how strange it felt to hear those words!

  Almost everyone had gone indoors for the night, but the few people left on the wooden walkways turned to stare. Danr thought about the previous time he’d come to Skyford, when everyone had stared at him, but this time it was different. They stared out of a certain awe instead of contempt. Was it possible they didn’t recognize Trollboy the exile? Danr kept his back straight and pulled himself to his full height. He tried to walk as White Halli did, as if everyone around him didn’t exist. Aisa came behind in his wake like an attendant.

  Skyford had also changed. The city stank as much as the troll caverns had. The heavy, nasty smell of rotting fish clogged the air. Pigs rooted for food in the mud between the cramped houses, and manure piles lay everywhere. Danr forced himself not to wrinkle his nose. The squalor had always been there. He just hadn’t noticed it before.

  “Release!” A draugr Danr didn’t recognize drifted between two houses. Filo flinched and dodged around it.

  “Are there a lot of them?” Danr asked.

  “Ever since the Noss brothers died,” Filo said. “Everyone who dies just … stays. No one knows why.”

  “Is that an army camped north of the city?” Aisa asked.

  “The earl offered amnesty to any prisoner who joined up,” Filo said, and Aisa shot Danr a look. “Even more soldiers are coming. The earl is calling in favors from all over Balsia, and he’s hiring mercenaries. Anyone who can fight is welcome in his army. Even women.”

  “Fight for what?”

  “That he hasn’t said,” Filo replied. “The earl gives a lot of speeches, though. He says humans need to unite under Balsia, and the three races of the Kin need to unite as a people if we want to claim our true place in the world. He wants to be king.”

  “Hmm,�
�� Aisa said. “There has never been a king among the Kin. Here we have earls, and tribes among my people follow their calipha. I don’t know what the merfolk and the orcs do, but there’s no Kin king.”

  “Maybe it’s time, then,” Filo said. “Ever since his son was made an idiot—begging your pardon, my lord—Hunin has given a lot of speeches, and when he speaks, even the stones listen. He would make a good king.”

  “Speeches don’t make a king,” Aisa observed.

  “No. But a king sure makes speeches.”

  They were passing the street by the river at that moment, and Danr said, “Wait!” Without waiting for a response, he dashed over to a familiar house, the one that belonged to Orvandel the fletcher, where he rapped sharply on the door. A moment later, a startled Orvandel opened it.

  “Trollboy!” he gasped. “What in the world—?”

  “I’m sorry to break in on you,” Danr said as Filo and Aisa hurried to catch up. “Is Talfi here?”

  In answer, a fleet form slammed into Danr and he found himself in a fierce hug, though Talfi’s head barely reached Danr’s chest. “I can’t believe it!” Talfi shouted. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

  Danr gingerly returned the embrace while Filo and Aisa looked on. In the house beyond, Orvandel’s wife, Ruta, and his two sons stared.

  “It’s good to see you, Talfi,” Danr said, and meant it. “So much has happened. We went under the mountain and met my grandmother. She’s a trollwife, and my aunt is their queen.”

  “You’re a prince?” Talfi blinked. “Wow! That’s what the torc is for. That’ll play well when the earl finds out.”

  “I’m glad you’re well,” Orvandel said. “You know, more than one person around here thinks White Halli got what he deserved and your so-called trial was a farce.”

  Danr raised his eyebrows. “Really? Why didn’t anyone speak at the trial, then?”

  “Too scared of the earl,” Orvandel said frankly. “And of all these spirits floating about. But we shouldn’t stand here talking in the doorway. Come in! You must be starving!”

  Danr couldn’t put into words how wonderful it was to hear such friendly talk, how fine a thing it was to know someone out there would tell him to share a roof and food and simple conversation. He thought about the giants and their great clubs, and for a moment he saw one crush Orvandel’s house like a quail’s egg. A lump came to his throat. He couldn’t let that happen. Not ever.