The Last Praetorian

by Christopher Anderson

  Belioch’s growing frustration made it easier for Navernya to endure the flames, but her strength waned as day passed into night.

  As dawn approached, Navernya felt a flash of pain. Her icy flesh melted and became subject to the heat of the flames. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. She smelled the smoldering of her hair and the roasting of her own flesh over the sulfur fumes. A scream welled up in her.

  A merciful blast of frigid air encompassed her and the heat dissipated. “Belioch and his games!” she thought to herself. Yet as she opened her eyes, she saw the Devil’s face cast a look of astonished fury toward something behind her. She followed his eyes and saw the hulking figure of Naugrathur standing at the balcony with sword unsheathed.

  “Good day, Belioch, late Duke of Ferrus. I see you are keeping my throne warm!” he said in a low rumbling growl.

  Belioch’s expression changed to one of fury and his fat brows contracted until they almost covered his tiny pig-like eyes.

  “You are in my dominion now!” Belioch told the Destructor. “I sit on this throne! You are now my servant or you are naught! Make your choice!”

  “I have banished choice from this world!” Naugrathur said evenly, approaching Belioch like a storm.

  Belioch thrust out a hand and a giant claw of iron reached for the Destructor. Naugrathur thrust his sword into the palm and Belioch bellowed in pain, clutching his own hand. Naugrathur twisted the sword and then grappled the hand under one arm. One after another, he took the giant fingers and broke them back upon themselves. Belioch’s fingers snapped in similar fashion and he howled.

  “Kill him!” Belioch roared and his minions set upon Naugrathur.

  Navernya watched with glee as Naugrathur dispatched the demons with cool efficiency—almost as an afterthought. As he reaped his grim harvest he stepped ever closer to his throne. Belioch squirmed in the seat and Navernya said, “What’s the matter Belioch? It seems you cannot harness the power of the earth and with every second doom approaches!”

  “Fie on you witch!” Belioch bellowed, desperately pounding the seat and muttering incantations. He straightened quite suddenly and said, “The power of the earth, that’s it!”

  Belioch’s mouth opened as if to utter something momentous, but Navernya summoned all her remaining strength and cast the simplest of spells. It was child’s play, the freezing spell and the most basic of her arsenal, but weakened as she was from torment it was all she could muster.

  “Niveus Parle!”

  Belioch’s mouth froze solid. Distracted as he was, he failed to ward off Navernya’s slight attack. He stared dumbly at the Ice Queen and then at Naugrathur. The Destructor sensed his moment and leapt for the Devil.

  One huge hand grasped Belioch by the nape of his blubbery neck and pulled him from the throne. He wasted no more time, but popped the Devil’s round head from his bloated body like a cork. He then butchered the Devil with his sword, chopping him up into smaller and smaller pieces. Last, he took the head of the Devil, gouged the still living eyes out and ripped out the tongue. Then he took the head to his balcony. In a voice like thunder he called, “Belioch’s treachery has ended!”

  With a mighty heave, the Destructor tossed the head far into the mountains.

  The Destructor turned to Navernya and there was unmistakable fury in his glowing eyes.

  #

  Tarion reached the main chamber of Gaurnothax’s cavern. To his horror, Hera Vora and her children were already there. “Get out of here! Go through the back passage. Gaurnothax must have a secret exit. I’ll hold here as long as I can and follow you.

  There was a rumbling and growling from the main passage. Suddenly, like some terrible worm, Karkedon slithered into the cavern. The place was tight for Karkedon, but his head and neck poked out at Tarion, smiling with evil glee.

  “Ho there Praetorian, let’s stop this insane chase! Stand still and I’ll give you a comfortable ride in my belly; resist and I’ll digest you all the way to Durnen-Gul before I give you up! It’s your choice on which way you want to go, but go you will.”

  “This man is not for you, Karkedon!” Hera Vora warned. She leapt back into the cavern, teeth bared and back arched. “Begone or I’ll ravage your pretty face!”

  “Away woman,” Karkedon exclaimed. “Don’t interfere with my business!”

  Hera Vora attacked, biting at Karkedon’s face. The huge drake bit back, shaking the hillside with his exertions. Tarion rushed his flank, seeking to come from behind Karkedon’s spike encrusted head and skewer him through the ear or eye. At the last moment, Karkedon saw him and ducked. The sword creased the dragon’s brow and Karkedon recoiled.

  Instinctively the dragon breathed, opening his maw filling the cavern with his fumes. The fireball might have immolated them, but Karkedon was weary already and had not the time to breathe properly. His flame was dim, almost transparent. Tarion felt the heat, but nothing more. He advanced on Karkedon, stabbing and slashing.

  The dragon shook his head, showering the cavern with black blood. Slowly he backed away, growling, “Being stubborn are we? This isn’t over yet, Tarion!” He suddenly struck like a cobra, snapping at the Praetorian; just missing Tarion’s head.

  “It’s not over, but now is as good a time to finish it as any! I’ll make the destructor walk home!” The Praetorian waded in, stabbing with sword and wristblade at the eyes and nostrils of the dragon. The dragon bit back, but he kept backing away. Then to Tarion’s amazement, Karkedon disappeared. It was as if some great force yanked him out of the cave.

  The Praetorian waited with sweat pouring down his face, but nothing happened. Then he heard a rush of wind followed by silence. The presence of the Destructor faded and Tarion knew that somehow Naugrathur was gone. He stood in confusion, shook his head and went back into the lair.

  Tarion heard Hera Vora cry out. He ran back in to find the mother dragon looming over her babies. The two daughters lay quite still on the floor. Karkedon’s breath wasn’t potent enough to do Tarion or Hera Vora much harm, but it was too much for the babies. Only the little drake survived. Tarion couldn’t take it; he left the Mother to her grief, leaving the cavern to see what happened to the Destructor.

  Loki was standing outside the cave waiting for him.

  “Hello, Tarion!” said the Devil-God. He shook his head and nodded in the direction of the cavern. “She does carry on, doesn’t she?”

  Tarion was on him in a flash. He pinned the God-devil against a tree and throttled him. “What’s your game this time, Loki? Wasn’t trying to kill me enough?”

  “No, it wasn’t!” Loki wheezed. “Remember, I serve the Destructor now!”

  “Then give me one good reason to keep you alive!”

  “I can still help you!” Loki insisted.

  “You’re still after my hide,” Tarion growled. “Your goal is to deliver me to the Destructor.”

  “Yes and no,” Loki said and as Tarion squeezed harder, he explained. “For his part, yes, absolutely, I admit it. However, the situation is not as simple as it seems. Do you think the Destructor would consider you a threat if you weren’t?”

  “I don’t follow, why would that matter to me? You’re after me, that’s all I need to know!” Tarion put the tip of his wrist-blade in Loki’s stomach and said, “All I have to do is cut out your heart and it will banish you from this plane until the end of the world. Isn’t that true?”

  “Actually, you need to take the head as well,” Loki told him. “But that would be a travesty. Can you imagine Midgard without my wit and charm?”

  “Actually, I can,” Tarion said tersely. He pressed the point through Loki’s tunic and drawing blood.

  “Ouch! Listen, Tarion, whether you realize it or not you are a power in this game, therefore, I have a stake in you as well. I want to help you bring the Wanderer to Midgard. I want to at least see what he has to offer!” Loki’s expression was serious indeed.

  “Fool,” Tarion growled, knowing Loki didn’t know the Wan
derer was in Asgard.

  “What’s that,” the Devil-God said. His eyes burrowed into Tarion’s mind. Tarion threw up his defenses, but too late. Loki’s smile grew like a maliciously spreading slick of oil across his sharp features. “So the Wanderer is in Asgard; he couldn’t come to Midgard, meaning he is too weak to face the Destructor!”

  “That secret will die with you Loki!” Tarion tensed to shove the blade under Loki’s ribs.

  “I don’t want the Destructor to know!” Loki yelped, pleading with Tarion, sincere fear in his eyes. Tarion paused, and Loki’s rapid-fire words filled the void. “I just told you I wanted an option from the Wanderer. I don’t want to live in his dominion any more than you, but it’s the only offer I have. Odin, father though he is, damned me. So has Naugrathur, literally, but better to be a Duke in Hell,”

  “. . . Than a rat in Asgard,” Tarion finished for him. He released the Devil-God. “I will almost certainly regret this, Loki.” He walked away, purposefully turning his back on the Trickster. After walking away a few steps, he glanced back. Loki was rubbing his throat. There was no malice in his eyes. “Why did you save me, Loki—the truth?”

  Loki sighed and sat on a stone, seemingly weary with the ordeal. “I failed him. I couldn’t allow Naugrathur to win when his opinion of me was so minimal,” he admitted. “He’d have remade me as an immortal ferret or something similarly inconsequential.”

  Tarion sighed and walked toward the keep, frustrated and disheartened. “I understand your position, Loki. I understand it better than I do my own.” He stopped, his brows knitting over hard green eyes. “I should still kill you—temporarily at least—if the Destructor knew where the Wanderer was he’d attack Asgard and that would be the end of it.”

  Loki shook his head, and said, “He can’t, because he would have to go to Asgard himself. Even the Nine Hells together couldn’t overcome Thor. That’s one good thing that has come of this: the Destructor can’t leave his throne anymore—not personally at least.”

  Tarion turned to Loki, “Why is that, what did you tell him to get him to leave?”

  “He has to deal with a minor insurrection,” Loki smiled.

  “Orchestrated by you?”

  “Facilitated at most, regardless, he won’t be making any long trips anymore. Politics is a demanding business.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s something,” Tarion said and he trudged up the hill and then the last steps to the threshold of the keep. “We’re home; I don’t think I’ll be welcome in Trondheim after today.” Tarion stopped at the door and sighed. “Come on in Loki; I’ll treat you to breakfast—for old time’s sake.”

  “Beef jerky and dried out biscuits—why not?” Loki said. Then, surprisingly, he laid his hand on Tarion’s shoulder. “I’ve always liked you Tarion. I enjoyed our adventures before this mess began. You’ve always been a player in this game, but remember, you’re more important now than ever before. I don’t understand how it is that you’ll solve the Wanderer’s dilemma but it’s clear that you are meant to solve it. Beyond that, you’ve duped the Destructor himself into making you unique: you are the immortal mortal. Naugrathur’s curse on you has already paid unexpected dividends. The Norns don’t grant this kind of fortune to bit players in their drama.” Loki paused, as if trying to come to a decision. At length he shrugged and said, “I’m not in the habit of giving information without something in return; you know that about me. However, besides my liking for you, there’s something exceedingly peculiar about you—I value you as a friend and maybe an ally. I’m not sure if this will help you or not, but I know who the Wanderer is.”

  “Go on,” Tarion told him.

  “I’m not absolutely certain, but I’m almost positive the Wanderer is none other than one of Odin’s brothers, Villi and Ve. Tyr, the Destructor is one, the Wanderer is the other.”

  “That would explain the mutual enmity between Odin and Tyr; Tyr vied for the crown of the AllFather,” Tarion said, muttering to himself. He nodded. “It makes more sense than anything else I’ve heard.”

  “Yes but it should also give you pause,” Loki warned. “Tales say Ve and Villi were twins, brethren, Twain. Yet to muddy the waters more it seems that only one of them—Tyr—stayed with the Gods. Yet even more strange, Tyr had somewhat of a tempestuous relationship with a certain Goddess we both know; a love-hate relationship.”

  “Freya,” Tarion said, reaching for his keys and opening the keep door.

  “Makes you wonder doesn’t it?” the trickster said thoughtfully.

  Tarion shook his head and unlocked the door. To his surprise, there was a fire going and he was not alone.

  Chapter 25: Mirror, Mirror

  “How dare Belioch!” Naugrathur stormed. His fury shook the tower. With his own hands, he broke the chains binding Navernya and more tenderly than any could have imagined, he took the Ice Queen into his arms. Laying her his bed, Naugrathur breathed a thick lair of frost over her body and covered her with furs. “Rest, my devoted Queen. I know not why you put yourself in such peril, but I will not forget this!”

  Navernya smiled and closed her eyes.

  The Destructor stood at the side of the bed, muttering an incantation. In the space of a moment, the pillars and canopy of his bed turned into shimmering ice, radiating cold throughout the chamber. His medicinal work done, Naugrathur left Navernya and went to the balcony. A battle raged in the city below. He waved his hand and a bell rang in the tower. Caradoc, Marshal of the Naug-zum reported, tall and grim, dressed in purple, gold and black.

  “How goes the strife, Marshal Caradoc?”

  The Marshal bowed and said, “The last pockets of Ferrus traitors are surrendering as we speak, Dread Lord. We have numerous prisoners awaiting your dispensation.”

  “I will not seek revenge on the soldiery, as they may still be of use to me, but a lesson must be taught,” Naugrathur said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Decimate them. Have every one in ten bound to a table. The other nine shall feast upon him while he is yet living. Ensure that the subject does not die too swiftly due to mercy.”

  Marshal Caradoc bowed and sent the orders. He had four Naug-zum guards posted at Queen Navernya’s bed—garbed all in silver fur to honor the Ice Queen. Then he had a detail see to cleaning the tower while the members of the Destructor’s inner circle discussed the state of the city and his dominion.

  The Naug-zum soldiers dumped the demon corpses into the central shaft of the tower, which plunged to the fires deep in the core of Durnen-Gul. Belioch—who was dissected but alive—they placed in a black stone box.

  The emissaries from the Nine Hells soon arrived, except for Ferrus, Belioch’s former plane. Without exception, they swore loyalty to the Destructor. The affairs of dominion went on as the day waned. When red night fell, Naugrathur dismissed his retinue with great weariness. The last to go was Marshal Caradoc.

  “Marshal, I dealt with your former wife, but I have not yet formulated a solution for her loss,” he said gravely. “It is not acceptable that you should go home to an empty bed, or that your children are raised by servants. I will give thought to a worthy wife soon.”

  The Marshal took a knee and bowed his head. “My Dread Lord, you honor me overmuch with such personal attention. My heart is satisfied with duty. My children are strong and enduring as befitting citizens of your dominion. What more could I ask for?”

  “You do not ask, yet you are the best of men and so shall you be rewarded, you may go!” Naugrathur turned and wearily doffed his armor. Then he visited Navernya’s bed and dismissed the guard. He sat beside her. Her crystal eyes opened and she smiled.

  “How does my loyal Queen?”

  “Well, my Dread Lord, now that you are where you should be; that is, in your tower and on your throne.”

  “A little of that, at least, I owe to your loyalty,” he admitted. Then he asked the question that troubled his mind. “Yet why did you defy Belioch when he seemingly had my crown? Can you answer me?”

 
; She laid a white hand on his black hand and said, almost sweetly, “Who else is worthy enough to be my Lord?”

  He laughed and said, “I shall humor you, my Queen, for indeed your speech softens the difficulty of my day. We shall dine together and alone.” He clapped his hands and servants brought in rare meats and wine. Naugrathur picked Navernya up, furs and all and took her to a seat at his table.

  “My Dread Lord dotes on me too much!”

  He waved her complaint aside and sat down to his meal.

  “Were you successful in finding Tarion?”

  “I found him,” Naugrathur growled, “but Belioch’s gambit interrupted my endeavor. Where he is now, I cannot say. Yet I have what I need, Navernya, my dominion intact. That much I owe to your loyalty and to Loki.”

  “Loki!” she said, spitting the name out like venom.

  “Yes, he warned me of Belioch’s plot,” Naugrathur said. “However else he may have been involved I do not know, yet without your combined efforts I would be faced with a much more serious dilemma this night.”

  “Was Belioch that close?”

  “To discovering my hold on Midgard, yes,” Naugrathur said. He picked up his goblet. “Enough of such talk, Navernya, you need rest. Let us take our ease this evening with each other while the world allows it.”

  He raised his goblet to her, but then a strident gong sounded.

  The chamberlain opened the door and stepped to Naugrathur’s side. “My pardon, Dread Lord, I have half a dozen embassies from Ferrus all begging for an audience with you and all claiming allegiance to you. What shall I tell them?”

  Naugrathur sighed and put down his wine. “I shall see them in the citadel, perhaps I shall make them eat each other in payment for my lost dinner!” he said and he left.

  #

  Tarion stared at the unexpected woman in his keep.