Rune Master

by Amelia Wilson

  On the last night before his departure, he took her by the hand. “I need to show you one more thing. It’s very important.”

  “What?”

  “I need to take you to the Draugr underground and show you how to get dreyri. When I’m gone, you’ll need to drink from a bottle instead of from me… Obviously.”

  She could sense a wave of apprehension from him, and she squeezed his hand. “Should I be nervous?”

  “When you’re going to the underground, you should always be nervous. The Draugr there are a mixed lot ranging from the relatively good to the completely evil. They will be looking for a new vampire like you.”

  “Looking for me for what?”

  “To dominate. To enslave. To seduce. Any number of things. Remember, Nika, Draugrs use power like a drug. When they have power over someone else, it’s like an aphrodisiac.”

  She shuddered. “Maybe we should stock up a lot so I don’t have to venture there without you.”

  “That was exactly my thought.” He rose. “Shall we?”

  They went to the street and walked south. The wind was cool tonight, and it smelled of distant snow. She pulled her jacket closer and looked at him. “Karlsborg is north of here, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Very far north.”

  “Don’t freeze to death.”

  Erik chuckled. “There are many ways for a Veithimathr to die, but that is not one that I’ve heard of any of my brothers dying that way before.”

  “Well, don’t be the first.”

  They walked until they reached a subway station. The ceilings of the station were vividly painted, and she was stunned by the impact of the bright colors in so dark a place. Erik smiled at her reaction.

  “Stockholm loves its art,” he told her.

  They boarded a train and sat together. Another of the riders, a young woman with ice-white hair and equally pale skin, peered at them curiously over the top edge of her book. Nika offered her a nod and a smile, and the woman kept staring.

  Erik noticed that they had a watcher, and he spoke to her in Swedish. “Is there something wrong?”

  The woman laughed and answered in Old Norse, the language of the Draugr. “I just heard that all of the Huntsmen were dead.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “I’m not disappointed.” She smiled. “I know someone else who’ll be thrilled that you’re here and alive.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  She closed her book. “Follow me and find out.”

  The train stopped, and the woman rose. She looked pointedly at Erik and Nika, displaying the merest hint of her long and feral teeth, and he shook his head once. “No.”

  She laughed and said as she left the train. “Suit yourself. You will find out in due course.”

  She left the train. Nika turned to Erik. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She was young. She was probably just flexing her muscles, trying to be intimidating.”

  “It sort of worked.”

  “Don’t let them get to you, Chosen.” He smiled. “You’re stronger than they’ll ever be.”

  “I don’t feel strong…”

  “Oh, but you are. And you have Ithunn with you, she won’t let you fall.” The train stopped at the next station, and he rose. “This is our stop.”

  They exited the train, and he took her hand. This station was adorned with statuary showing human figures soaring like wingless angels. She shook her head.

  “Extraordinary.”

  “Many things in Stockholm are,” he said proudly. He took her hand. “Stay close to me.”

  She smiled for him. “Gladly.”

  He took her up the stairs and out onto the street. There were people all around, and the streets were full of bars and restaurants. Music poured out of clubs, and everywhere mortal and Draugr mingled. She clung to his hand.

  “There are so many here.”

  “This is the Draugr homeland,” he explained. “This is where we were made… Literally right here, where this street now stands. A lot of us don’t stray too far from home.”

  She looked around at the busy street with its riot of colors and neon. She tried to imagine what it must have been like all those years ago, back in Erik’s youth, when the Draugr were first made.

  He leaned close. “Don’t imagine it. Remember it. You saw it then.”

  Nika had dreamed of the day when Ithunn was melded to her soul, had sat through half-memories of the event and the feelings it had caused. She knew that the process had been difficult, and that Berit had not survived. She remembered Erik bringing her – bringing Berit – the first and last cup of blood she ever drank. She wondered how the memory looked to him, and what happened after that first taste. She never saw anything past the moment she brought the cup up to her lips.

  She had so many questions, and there was so little time. He was leaving in the morning, and suddenly her heart couldn’t bear the thought of that imposed distance. Tears sprang into her eyes.

  “You changed me then,” she said, the sound vanishing into the noise of the crowd. She knew he could still hear her. “How many times have you changed me from a mortal into a Draugr?”

  “Many,” he admitted. He stepped to face her, his hand on her cheek. “I –”

  He was interrupted by the noisy arrival of a band of young Draugr on roaring motorcycles. They were clad in leather and chains, their hair long and wild from the road, laughing too loudly and caring too little about the people in their paths. She wondered if this was how the Norse had seemed back in their day.

  The motorcycle gang pulled up onto the sidewalk, indifferent to manmade laws, and they parked there. The man in the lead, a powerfully-built moving mountain with black hair that tumbled past his shoulders, looked at the two of them and smirked. He dismounted his Harley and pulled a blackjack from his back pocket, waving it like an old-time general with a riding crop. He sneered at Erik and approached them.

  Erik pulled Nika closer to him, but his blue eyes went green with ancient power. The biker hesitated for barely a fraction of a heartbeat, but it was enough for Erik to see he had the advantage.

  “Keep walking, child,” he told the gang leader, his voice a feral growl.

  “Keep your shirt on, old man,” the man retorted. As he walked past, he bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile. “I’m just out for a good time here.”

  Nika could feel something inside of Erik coiling. The Draugr in biker leathers felt it too, and they wisely gave the ancient vampire a wide berth. He kept his eyes on them as they walked past and into a nearby club. The door opened to release a cloud of noise and human smells as they went in.

  He did not relax until they were gone. Then, finally, he seemed to pull his rage back under control and locked it up again. She should have been afraid of how hot it burned so close beneath the surface, but she was convinced that Erik would never hurt her.

  He turned to her, his eyes as blue as the summer sky again, and he smiled for her. “It’s all posturing. These young ones puff and make a lot of noise, but as soon as they realize that you’re too much for them to handle, they’ll back down.”

  “Do they all have gods inside them?”

  “No. They’re too young. There are only so many gods to go around, after all.” He pointed at another doorway, farther down the street. “That is where we’re going – Snake Eyes. It’s a stupid name, but there’s a story to it. The current owner won the bar from the last one in a game of dice. You can guess the losing roll.”

  “So he named it in honor of how he won?”

  Erik chuckled. “Yes. Just a little bit of spit in the face of the one who lost it.”

  He kept hold of her hand and they walked toward the door. It was darker than the others, and the neon lights were blue and purple. The glass of the windows and doors were tinted black, and the soundproofing was excellent. Even when they reached the threshold, she could not hear the noise inside.

  “The current owner
is a woman named Magda. She is the vessel of Sigyn. Have you heard of her?”

  “No,” She admitted. “The only Norse gods I know of are Odin, Thor, Loki, Freya, Freyr, Ithunn, Vidar, and now Bragi and Forseti.”

  “I told you of two others,” he reminded. “Frigg is not to be forgotten, for she will be your greatest ally. And while you will not encounter her for many years, Hel is not to be ignored, either. She is the queen of the dead. Most of the Draugr worship her.”

  He put his hand on the door handle, and she could feel a wave of energy pulse beneath his touch. “What was that?” she asked.

  “That was a ward. It tells the young ones that one of the First is coming.”

  “The First? You mean Hakon’s band?”

  “Yes.” He smiled at her. “You’d be surprised how much respect a little fear can buy you.”

  They walked inside.

  Chapter Six

  The interior of Snake Eyes was darker than most clubs she had been to, but the blue lights set into the baseboards and the benefits of her new Draugr sight meant that she could still see. A human would have had a difficult time navigating the place, which might have been by design. The room was full of vampires, the power in their blood combining to give the atmosphere a heady buzz. She could smell the many open glasses of dreyri, and she could sense it in bottle after bottle behind the bar. She could also smell the regular alcohol that they were mixing with the blood, the smoke from cigarettes, and the warm, animal smell of the bodies pressed together on the dance floor.

  When they came through the door, the others looked to watch them enter, alerted by the ward that Erik’s arrival had activated. The vampires here were all centuries younger than him, and they instantly deferred, clearing a path for him all the way to the bar. He led her through, and she noticed that some of the young ones averted his eyes as he walked past, their fear hanging on them like perfume.

  “I take it that the First come in here and bust some heads from time to time,” she conjectured.

  “You take it correctly. Many of my former brothers are dedicated to keeping the younger ones afraid of them. These children are cautious and respectful, as they should be.”

  They reached the bar, and a pair of stools were instantly vacated for them. He helped her settle onto one, but he did not sit upon the other. He turned his back toward the bar and leaned on his elbow, his eyes scanning the room. Slowly, the others resumed whatever activities his arrival had interrupted, and he nodded.

  “Good,” he told her. “The trouble makers haven’t turned up yet. I’m the oldest one in the house.”

  She watched as the bartender approached, the friendly smile on her face belying the tension in her stance. “Good evening, Ancient One,” she greeted. “What can I get for you?”

  The bartender was making no effort to conceal her Draugr fangs. None of the vampires were. It was a bit unnerving to Nika. She felt surrounded and very, very grateful that Erik was there.

  “Dreyri for us both,” he requested. He put a gold coin on the bar, ancient currency that she accepted with a knowing nod. “Three rounds.”

  Nika raised an eyebrow. She had never had more than two glasses at a time. She wasn’t certain what a third round would do to her.

  “I don’t know if I can handle that much,” she told him quietly.

  “You probably can’t. I’ll drink your third round along with mine.”

  She chuckled. “Once a Viking, always a Viking?”

  “Something like that.”

  Two martini glasses filled with the scarlet elixir were brought forth, and they picked them up. He touched his drink to hers, the glass making a bell-like chiming sound as he clicked them together.

  “Skål.”

  He drained his serving in one swallow, leaving not even a single drop behind. She tried to follow suit, but the enchantment on the blood was stronger than she was accustomed to, and it made her throat burn. She coughed on the first sip.

  Erik chuckled. “It’s a strong vintage. You’ll get used to it.”

  He tapped the bar beside his glass, and the bartender filled it up again.

  “There are vintages for blood?”

  “Of course.” He watched as a young Draugr female collected a tray full of glasses and turned back into the crowd to deliver them. “The stronger you are, the stronger the enchantment that you can handle. Not just that, but at some times, you’ll need the stronger stuff to refill your energy, like when you’re depleted from not drinking in a long time, or when you’ve just healed or are healing from an injury.”

  “The blood is the life,” she said, quoting Bram Stoker.

  He saluted her with his glass. “Exactly.”

  “You’re building up your strength for Karlsborg.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes. I don’t know what to expect, so I’m preparing for the worst.”

  “You’re just going to meet your new unit. How bad can it be?”

  “When the army knows full well what I am, and they’ve handpicked the replacement for my team? When I don’t know if I’ll be in command or not? When I don’t know who they’ve got waiting for me?” He shook his head. “I’m not going to take any chances.”

  The bartender came back with a folded piece of paper. “Magda sends her greetings.”

  He accepted the slip with a nod. He straightened and stepped away from the bar. Nika put her glass down. “Follow me, but bring your drink.”

  She obeyed. “Do vampires use roofies on each other like humans do?”

  “Young ones with ambition will try to drink above their pay grade,” he told her. “It gives them a rush of power and energy that makes them feel invincible. That almost always ends up with them doing stupid things, and I don’t want to deal with that tonight.”

  “So it doesn’t change them forever, like when a mortal drinks dreyri?”

  He looked at her strangely. “No. Come along.”

  She followed him as he walked down another pathway opened by the respectful crowd. She kept her glass in one hand and Erik’s hand in the other. The gazes of the vampires they passed were curious and wary, and she didn’t overlook the fact that several of the onlookers gazed at Erik with open desire. Whether that was for his person or his power, she was uncertain. They looked at her with scrutiny and sometimes disapproval. One man looked her in the eye and licked his lips salaciously. She turned away.

  Erik took her to a closed door at the back of the room. A woman stood there, and her body was obviously fit; her black jumpsuit was like the one Sigrunn had worn when she stole the Rune Sword back in Central City. He handed the woman the piece of paper the bartender had given him, and she glanced at it, then at the two of them. She flicked her gaze over Nika from foot to head, and then grunted to herself.

  She opened the door. “Magda will see you now.”

  They went through, and the woman closed the door behind them.

  The room they entered was a sumptuously appointed office, full of red velvet and black leather. There was a smoky scent lingering in the air, chased by the sweet smell of incense that was burning in a brass bowl in the back of the room. The walls were covered by red wall paper, and the artwork that hung upon them was dark and disturbing, showing battle and death. A massive wooden desk sat before them, with a black leather executive chair behind it. A less-impressive but equally expensive pair of chairs faced the desk.

  The room was empty. Nika looked around. “I thought Magda would be in here.”

  “She will be. Patience, my love.”

  A hidden door to their right opened, and a woman spoke. “You are drinking again, Erik. This must be her.”

  He smiled. “Magda, this is Nika. Nika, Magda. Nika is my Chosen.”

  The other Draugr came into view, and if she had a reaction to his news, she did not display it. “Welcome, Nika. How does it feel to be home?”

  She answered honestly. “Rather overwhelming, actually. I’ve only been here for a few days.”

  “I will be depl
oyed soon,” he told their hostess. “Nika needs a supply and a body guard. I was hoping maybe Sif…”

  “Sif guards no one but me.”

  Magda sat behind her desk. She was tall and strong, with hair as red as Nika’s but she had brown and knowing eyes. She was wearing a chic black dress, tight in all the right places, and expert make-up. Her scarlet tresses were bound up in a French twist, pinned with a trio of ebony pins. She looked like a fashion model.

  She folded her hands on the desk. “I can offer you a supply, though. That’s not a problem.”

  “Thank you.”

  “As for bodyguards, well… For that, you are on your own, Huntsman.”

  Nika caught the edge of a sneer on the word, and she glanced at Erik.

  “No need to be unfriendly, Sigyn,” he said.

  The look she gave him was cold. “I respect you as an elder, Erik Thorvald, but I do not respect you as a warrior. You lost your team. You have not earned the right to come into my presence without shame.”

  Nika’s jaw dropped.

  Erik raised his chin. “I lost my team, but I did not lose the sword. Nor did I lose my fight with Hakon.”

  “True. And that is why I tolerate your presence at all.” She sat back. “There are those among us who would happily have your head for destroying the chance for Hakon to return. You are a traitor, Huntsman. You have sided with the humans against the Draugr for too long. Your sins will catch up to you one day.”

  “That may be, if it is my fate,” he answered evenly. “I fight according to my understanding, and I make no apologies. My brothers all died well in service to their beliefs.”

  “Even Rolf? Did he die well?”

  Nika remembered the other Huntsman’s terrible demise as a result of the Blood Eagle, and she shuddered.

  “He died for what he felt was true. His soul was quiet.”

  Magda smiled thinly. “Ah, but I think those are not the same things. Did you not abandon him to Astrid Sigurdsdottir and her friends? Did you not fail to search the barn when you might have saved him?”