He smiled. ‘I’ll need the shield. She will have a shield, but not the Charm Breaker. And you, Hannea, will join me as her. You will take her looks, cast a spell to mimic the armor, and the houses will fight for me. I need you. Do this, and live in splendor all your lives.’ He pleaded with them, and Hannea’s face twisted with anger. ‘Hannea. We cannot have her, a human as a Hand. She will wreck our ways. See what is happening in the south.’
She nodded finally. My heart broke.
The fires disappeared. ‘Dust. All your lives are but dust,’ the dead one said. ‘Not much better than mine.’
I looked at the shield over my shoulder. I pulled and ripped at it and finally had it. I heard the undead laugh softly in the shadows as my hope died. I took off the leather, and revealed a dull metal shield, carved much like Charm Breaker had been carved. But it was not it. ‘Not much left to fight for, is there, Shannon?’ he asked.
‘For my sister,’ I said, swallowing my bitterness. I dropped the shield. ‘For Dana. For myself.’
‘Sister,’ he cackled. ‘Yourself. Yes. But I tire of the game. Shall you truly battle us?’
I despaired. The monster. His court. How could I? It was all a lie. They had tricked me. Cerunnos smiled, his rotten mouth twisted with an understanding grin. ‘Best just sit down with my friends, Shannon. One shall slay you fast. We shall feast on dust. You will join us.’
And then I was saved.
A figure appeared next to me. It was a rotten elf, like the rest, looking down. The muscles on its neck could be seen; the face was half bone. In its hands, there was a bottle obviously stolen from the Regent’s palace. It was the gatekeeper.
And then I spied another bottle in its palm, of wooden make, and its stopper was open. ‘Lord,’ the voice rasped. ‘She left this at the gate, apparently to fortify herself. Spirits of elven make.’
‘Did you,’ Timmerion asked with a cackle, ‘bring me a gift? I do like manners. Though flattery used to displease me, I have grown fond of even that, in this tedious existence.’
‘I—’
‘You brought it for yourself alone …’ the dead lord whispered while staring at the bottle.
‘I … did, my lord. I brought if for myself but dared not take off my helmet,’ I said, confused, and then I stiffened as the dead elf beside me gave me a sharp, quick glance. It had eyes. They were dark and fire played deep inside. I cursed for it was Thak. What in Hel’s name was he doing? Where did he get the bottle?
But I was also so happy I could have screamed with hope and joy.
Timmerion was gazing at the bottle, his lips dry, and a dark, rotten tongue tasting the air. ‘It does seem precious.’
‘This is made of golden grapes, my lord, the best Regent Almheir is served, and his wife pours it for him. May I do so for you?’ I pleaded, bowing.
‘Perhaps,’ the old undead thing croaked with unmistakable thirst, ‘in your country one poisons their enemies rather than fight them? Though I cannot be poisoned.’
‘It is so,’ I said, taking the bottle, cursing Thak, ‘but I shall … taste it myself, Lord if you are reluctant?’ Thak did not look to be against the idea.
‘I am not reluctant, I am dead and rotten, girl, and poison cannot slay me. But do taste it,’ he said and snapped his fingers. Bony fingers handed a goblet of dull, dusty silver to me, and I swallowed bile as I spilled the ancient contents to the ground, not wishing to see what had been inside. I took the bottle from Thak, wondering at his shape-shifting skills and poured the yellowed-golden drink inside. I prayed hard to Freyr, but the god was far, and I saluted the dead around me and drank.
The goblet clanged on my face piece.
I giggled, so did the dead, and I lifted the helmet to drink it down. It burned, and I swore as I fought to stay standing. It filled my belly with burning fire that was familiar. Then I understood what Thak had done. My shoulder was cured. I felt the Rot tingle away. The one thing that could cure it had ended up in a goblet. It was Euryale’s blood, the blood that had been given to me by Ulrich in the dungeon of Twisted Tower. Was this the rest of it? Thak had it. Or someone else had had it? I shuddered with joy and then sorrow. If only I had had it when Ompar died.
It could resurrect one.
‘Here, Lord, it is too potent a thing for a mere human,’ I said, and the lord Timmerion rose to his full height. Dust fell in heaps around him. Skin peeled, flesh fell to the stones as he put the Horn down. His eyes were lidless and terrible, and I trembled at his power. He clutched the Eye in his fist and walked forward, nearly breaking my heart with fear, and I struggled mightily not to spill the stuff. I handed him the goblet, but he shook his head and bent down to take the bottle instead. He did it suddenly, and I danced away from him in fear, and he rushed stiffly after me, grasping the bottle surprisingly fast. I was leaning on the massive table, clutching the sword, and he was there before me, very close.
‘Fear not, girl, not yet,’ he grinned, rot shining sickly in his throat. ‘If this does not taste like wine I still remember, you have cause to fear. I’ll hang you from the roof for eternity.’
‘But can the dead taste?’ I asked. ‘That is not fair—’
‘I can,’ he said. ‘I still retain such pleasures. Though there has been nothing to taste, save for flesh. Yes, I have tried that as well.’
He drank it down.
The liquid ran down his open throat, the glow of Euryale’s mighty blood apparent through his thin chest, some actually spilling to his waist from various holes in his corpse. His armor clanked, and he staggered, smiling happily, as happy as a dead corpse drinking can be. He lay the bottle down on the table and walked to his throne. ‘I thank you, Shannon. But now, you must stay with us.’ He grasped his sword. ‘Shall you fight or starve? Decide.’
‘I shall fight,’ I told him.
‘Play with them first,’ he said softly, but the court heard.
And so rotten hands grasped at me. I pulled the blade and whipped it around me, praying not to hit Thak. Many things happened at the same time.
The undead turned in confusion.
A fiery whip slashed in the semi-darkness, and Lex was there, thrashing at the countless dead that shrieked as they fell. Dana was creeping up from behind as well, and a huge fiery boom rocked the hall as tables burned, bones and rotten flesh scattered around. The spell’s power pushed me over and I landed at Timmerion’s feet. The lord himself flew to a seated position over his sword, and rage was evident in his roaring, deathly voice. It was a spellbound voice, full of Glory and that shriek shattered my left ear, leaving me reeling. Lex called for fire, and Dana did as well though less spectacular as previously, as it was hard to see in the dark. Lethal lines of fire cut at the dead, who were now skittering around in the darkness.
‘You dare disrupt my court, my feast, my guests!’ Cerunnos Timmerion roared and rose up in the air with a spell that covered his legs in a wind of bone dust and grit. He landed on the table, gathering a power that was of neither ice nor fire, but something more deadly than that, something at the fringes of both powers, a strange part of the Filling Void. He braided a spell full of shadows and the stench of rot, death and cold, and the air rippled. Skeletons of the court melted and twisted as corrupted streams left his hands for Dana, who was staggering with sudden fatigue.
I screamed in terror. She would die.
But she did not. The spell flew around her, touching everything but her. Cerunnos staggered in shock and I, roaring in anger, thrust my blade at him.
I laughed at his astonished, dead face that turned my way. ‘If it was a lie about no Aldheimer elf being able to enter this hall, then perhaps your strength is also a lie, you old cadaver.’ The blade was embedded in his armpit, under his armor. He stumbled, looked at me in utter, undead fury and grasped the sword blade, pulled it savagely and threw me around. I flew in the midst of the remaining undead court, and all of them reached for me, trying to suffocate and rip me apart. From the corner of my eye, I saw Lex whipping his fier
y weapon at two tall dead, and Dana was squinting my way. I also noticed a blur in the air as Thak was behind the baleful shadow of Cerunnos, morphing to his huge size, and I feared he would die, no matter his ancestry, strength, and bravery as Cerunnos was every bit as terrible as the tales told. He was playing with us.
Thak swung his fist at the dead one. The undead lord laughed dryly as he sidestepped the strike.
Timmerion summoned the dark energy again.
He weaved together the strange voice spell, and I could not touch that weave. It was too weird, too strong, and I howled as a cadaver struck at me with an ax as I tried. The weapon made a screeching, jarring sound as it struck my helmet, but the spell Cerunnos released made every living creature writhe in agony. My left ear was already deaf, but I screamed as a keening noise shot through the hall. The helmet stopped me from blocking it off. My right ear radiated stabbing pain; the undead howled happily, and my friends fell on their knees in agony. Thak reeled and then crashed through a table as the lord of the dead hacked his terrible sword at the poor giant. He was wounded at least, perhaps dead. Then Cerunnos summoned his rotting powers again. It was the deadly, nauseous spell. It smelled of mud and rot and sweetness, and the energy rippled forward. It rippled through some of his court, slaying his minions, raising some fallen back to unlife, and it was coming for me as I was lying under the horde of the dead.
I would have fallen then and there, had Lex not saved me.
His whip slapped over me twice; ten dead fell in heaps of armor, bone, and skin, and he kneeled to push me aside, and then tried to follow me.
He failed.
His leg was tangled by a skeletal, rotting arm, and he fell with a terrified curse.
The energy ripped across him.
He howled in terrible pain, tears running down his gray face; his hair turned white. His skin was drying to ash as I watched, and his cheeks rotted as he died. Sort of. His eyes were still staring; he was still, then twitching, both alive and lifeless as he uttered silent, foul curses. ‘Mine!’ Cerunnos Timmerion shrieked happily. ‘And soon, you!’ Dana was flailing at the enemy, releasing a gout of flame at Timmerion, who just laughed as the metal armor around him heated and his rotted flesh steamed. ‘Ah! Your sister!’
‘Shannon!’ Dana shrieked. ‘Did you give it the drink?’
‘I ... yes!’ I said, and then things changed.
Timmerion clutched his chest.
A glow was coming from beneath his fingers, his jaw was hanging open, and his eyes were huge, but they were no longer lidless, nor was his flesh putrid. He doubled over in agony of resurrection for Thak had poured Euryale’s blood on the wine; likely the rest that had been left from our struggle in the dungeons of the Gray Downs.
Cerunnos Timmerion fell from the table and climbed up, his court fell on its knees, confused and utterly lost, and even Lex’s dead eyes were staring at their lord, who was now alive. Cerunnos was not exactly alive-looking, though. He looked ancient. His skin was wrinkled, and his eyes red-rimmed still, his hair sparse and falling in gray locks to the dust. And the armor was nearly too much for him to support in his ancient, elderly state. He cursed and turned to me, summoning the strange power he had used against us, but it was no longer there for him. His eyes went huge from shock. ‘You took my life!’ he hollered.
‘I gave it to you, and now I will take it,’ I hissed.
I sat up and grasped at ice winds and powers of the waters and vapors. The lightning left my hands, the air boomed, great swathes of dust fell, skeletons and cadavers shattered in a bloodless rain of bone and rotted flesh, and the spell reached to the undead lord. It hit. He staggered and screamed as it did, and it tore his plate armor apart. He let go with the same spell, so fast, so skillfully I had no chance to dodge. The spell hit me. I felt I was on fire. I was blown back over Lex. I was burning, my blood was boiling, and I felt the Silver Maw getting wet from blood seeping from my chest. I staggered, gathered the lightning bolt spell again, as fast as I could, and added as much power as was possible, then more and more and more. I saw Cerunnos gather the same spell again, his eyes wild with fear. He released the spell first. I let loose with all the power I could, having filled myself over and beyond my ability, screaming from the pain that throbbed in my lobes and belly.
Our lightning bolts struck at the same time.
I fell, whimpering. My arm was useless, my eye as well, the helmet was smoking. I saw how Cerunnos Timmerion roared; his wrinkled, strangely tattooed savage face twisted with pained despair, and he fell over his throne, his chest torn open, his flesh sundered and holed through, and his arm was missing.
The one that had held the Eye.
‘Hel,’ he whispered, stumbled over the frozen throne; he belched bright blood fringed with ice and fell.
I was crying as I hugged myself. My chest, my face. On fire.
Dana came to me, slowly. Thak was not moving. Lex was, but I saw he was undead, and I could not look at his pitiful, horrified face.
‘I am sorry, Shannon,’ she said. ‘You will be disappointed in me. I did this for you as well. My poor, broken sister.’ She dug out a small hand mirror. It had crows on top. ‘Euryale gave this mirror to me. Cosia gave me the blood of Euryale.’
‘It wasn’t leftover from Gray Downs?’ I gasped, trying to understand what she was saying.
‘No,’ she said dully.
‘What does the mirror do?’
She smiled gently. ‘The Dark Prayer could be used to reach most lands if one knew where one was going, but we didn’t. We just fell into the sea. This, sister, is something that lets one make a permanent gate between the real artifact and this one. See.’
It glowed, and a silver disk detached from it. It stayed up in the air, grew in size, and then a figure stepped out. A sea of snakes was what I could see at first. Then the beautiful face followed, and Euryale, clad in dark battle mail, carrying a short spear stepped through. He eyes were shaded under a heavy iron diadem, but they were white and terrible under the shadows and could turn mortals to stone. She looked around the chaos and grinned as she spied Cerunnos dead. ‘Well done. Did I not tell you, Cerunnos, that one day I’d stand over your corpse?’ She turned to my sister. ‘Dana.’
‘Mistress,’ she said with a deep bow. ‘Do what you promised. If I aided you, you should save us. And her.’
‘She cured herself of the Rot already,’ she said. ‘Can you not heal yourself, Shannon?’ She smiled like a wolf. She would not let me.
‘I lack the strength,’ I whispered, and I really did.
‘Heal us, mistress,’ Dana begged. ‘I have helped with everything.’
‘In a moment, perhaps. You have also failed, Dana, and did you not help her escape in the Scorpion’s Bridge? But perhaps I shall forgive you,’ Euryale prodded me with her boot. ‘You wanted to return the Eye? I only wanted the Horn, dear girl. Now I shall take the land. Finally. To imagine, from exile onto the throne. Never give up, Stheno always said. Do you know what truly happened after Hel’s War?’
‘He told me,’ I whispered.
‘He did? Must be lonely. Never shared secrets with anyone before. Close-minded bastard.’ Her eyes burned. ‘You nearly made a mess of things, Shannon. Too bad you didn’t share your plans with Dana and Cherry in the Gray Downs, or I could have stopped you long before it came to this. But here we are anyway.’ She was looking at the Horn lying in the shadows. ‘God’s toy. One that has caused so much sorrow.’
I spat weakly. ‘You caused the sorrow, not a damned horn. You manipulated the greatest elf in Aldheim, your host, and you worked to take Aldheim together. Then you tried to take it from him after Hel’s War had left him weak.’
‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘But not even my dragon powers were enough to kill him back then. Happily, the Eye he claimed killed him. Unfortunately, not in a permanent way. He defeated our armies in his strange, undead state. I was reduced to an exile in Gray Down, a fool; enemy to the gods, Hel’s foe, foe to the elves, and I had no idea
how to fix it since Stheno was driven back to our homelands. Then, Stheno’s journal told me how to summon her creations from our common project, the Tenth. I’m not as adept as she is with these spells, but it was my one stroke of luck. And here we are. I should be happy the elves never wanted to recover the Eye and the gods. The high lords invented the lie that only the Hand might try, so they could fight things out on their own. I would have preferred to have tried this on my own in the chaos of the war, but your Regent decided to let you go as well. Almheir was deathly afraid of human rising, just like Danar. He was going to kill you but thought it fair you die here, fighting. But you did it. I was right. Though my blood did help, didn’t it?’
I did not look at her. My eyes were filled with tears, and I stared at Dana.
‘She kept her deal, mistress,’ Dana said reverently. ‘She wished for one thing. Freedom and happiness for me.’
‘She is not evil, not entirely,’ I whispered. I felt I was delirious, and I looked at her, ‘Grandma said so.’
‘Did she?’ Dana asked sadly.
I pointed a shaking finger at her. ‘You let Cosia and the Gorgons kill Ompar,’ I shuddered with cold and pain. ‘You betrayed me. You carried Euryale’s blood?’
‘I did,’ she said without a care.
‘When Ompar died?’
She nodded. ‘It was meant for Cerunnos. Not for Ompar.’
‘How did you get in here?’ I asked.
She smiled like a ghost. ‘Thak stole the shield from the house while you were being entertained. He liked my plan. He believed me. I told him to get wine and the Charm Breaker. I knew the Regent would not part with it, and I was right. He performed well. They tried to grab us after you entered, but I was ready. Killed many and rushed after you. Thak and Lex followed me, out of love for you. Ulrich was grabbed before he made it,’ she said and pulled out the Charm Breaker from under her cloak. ‘But yes, I betrayed you. I did not wish to, but this way, my way is the better one. Sister, you should have listened to me like you used to on Earth. Now I wish you joy. You will be better.’
Eye of Hel: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Ten Tears Chronicles - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 2) Page 31