Days of Broken Oaths

by Matt Larkin

  Starkad came to stairs leading deeper, followed them down into what seemed like a dungeon. A few prisoners in the cells, though no one Starkad recognized. He bypassed those, then paused at a cell. Beyond a steel door, chained to the wall, rested Höfund. Bruises covered the big man over more or less every spot of skin Starkad could see. That, and at least three distinct pairs of bite marks. The vampires had fed off him. And his feet were bare, both those and his shins charred black and oozing blood.

  Eyelids drooping, Höfund lifted his gaze to Starkad. Actually, one of those lids didn’t quite open given the heavy swelling around it. The other eye blinked, like it didn’t quite believe it was him.

  Starkad sheathed his swords, strode over and grasped the chains, then yanked them out of the wall. A link snapped, and Höfund pitched forward onto his hands, groaning.

  “Someone turned you.”

  Starkad spun at the voice, hands going to the hilts of his swords.

  Tanna stood there, Mistilteinn in hand, a slight smirk on his face. “I admit, I didn’t think Nikolaos would go so far. Do you think he’ll grieve the loss of his progeny?” Tanna hefted the runeblade. “More importantly, did you know this runeblade can kill even an immortal? The other runeblades were graced with strange gifts, roaring flames or pale fires, poisons, icy venom that saps one’s strength. But Mistilteinn, oh, I think it perhaps the greatest—or most fell—work of this era. For the wounds it inflicts are as real and deadly to immortals as an ordinary sword is to humans.”

  Starkad bared his teeth—fangs—and jerked his swords free once more. “I’m going to kill you.”

  A snicker, and then the vampire nigh flew forward, runeblade flashing. Starkad parried. It barely slowed the runeblade, which sliced through his sword. Starkad twisted away and flung the hilt at Tanna. The vampire batted the projectile aside with Mistilteinn.

  The problem with making swords of iron instead of worked steel was pure iron was soft. Even a steel-wrought blade could barely stand up to the power of a runeblade. An iron one was hopeless if he needed to parry. Instead, Starkad leapt over Tanna’s next blow, landed, and kicked off it.

  Tanna swung at him, and Starkad flipped over the vampire to land behind him. The Patriarch’s runeblade embedded in the dungeon wall almost a foot deep. Starkad swung at him. Tanna’s form brought about to dust. Then came back together as the iron sword seemed to bite into flesh. The vampire staggered backward, hand to his side where Starkad had gouged him deep.

  He snarled at Starkad, looked to Mistilteinn, then lunged for Starkad instead. Starkad whipped his sword around once more. Becoming a vampire had made Starkad even faster. Almost as fast as Tanna. Almost.

  The other vampire dodged around Starkad’s blade, caught his wrist in a steel-like grip, and flung him into the side of the cell. Starkad tried to shift his gravity to the wall the way Arete did, but it came at him too fast and the impact sent his own fangs jamming into his lip. He hit the floor, dazed, but somehow not winded .

  Because he didn’t breathe except to speak. Huh.

  Before he could gain his feet, Tanna was there, his form half solid, half dust. His foot caught Starkad in the ribs and hefted him up so hard Starkad actually hit the ceiling. This time, he did manage to shift his gravity and cling there.

  Didn’t help, since Tanna leapt up to him an instant later, fist swinging. Starkad rolled to the side and Tanna’s fist dented the stone ceiling, sending a spiderweb of cracks along it. Starkad dropped off, hit the floor in a crouch, and lunged for his iron sword. His fingers brushed over the blade on the way to the hilt, and he instantly felt slow and weak.

  Claw-like hands dug into his shoulders and sent him crashing against another wall.

  Starkad struggled to rise, but pain seeped into every bone in his body. Some of them might well have been cracked. He managed his knees. Twisted to the side as Tanna’s fist came in once more. The blow split stone.

  Snarling, Starkad landed a hook into Tanna’s ribs. The Patriarch barely flinched, instead catching Starkad by the hair and driving him back against the wall. “You, a pathetic neonate, cannot hope to match my power. I am ancient. I feasted on the blood of uncounted souls and grew mighty as I passed down through the ages. I am eternal.”

  The tip of a blade exploded out of Tanna’s chest, driven right through his heart.

  “Reckon that means you was immortal, huh?” Höfund said. “’Cause you said this here blade could kill immortals.”

  The vampire looked down at the runeblade, his hands trembling. Blood spurted from his mouth as an all-too-human expression came over his face.

  Starkad sneered at him, slipped around behind the vampire, and took the runeblade’s hilt from Höfund. He jerked Mistilteinn free, then hacked off Tanna’s head in one swift motion.

  The half-jotunn grimaced, backed up into a wall, and wiped blood splatters from his face with one hand, chains still dangling from his wrists. He grunted once, then shook himself. “You figure we can leave Miklagard now?”

  “You can.” Starkad wiped his own face. “You should.”

  “You ain’t coming?”

  “I’m not sure yet … there are things I need to see to in Tanna’s tower.”

  “Huh. Where’s Hervor and the others, then?”

  Starkad shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s get you out of this place, then you should head to the harbor and see about finding a ship away from here.”

  The big man pushed off the wall. “Finding a ship is good, sure enough. But I ain’t leaving without Hervor.”

  All Starkad could do was frown.

  29

  A shadow passed through the night, down the cobbled street, there only for an instant and then gone. Hervor pressed herself hard against the alley wall, uncertain whether the darkness had been her imagination or a vampire stalking the city.

  Either way, heading out after dark didn’t seem over wise. Not wise, but then, she saw no real alternative. She’d taken one night to rest, but she had to find Starkad, to try to make things right. Or at least to try to help him end Tanna.

  Tanna, Orvar, even Starkad now—damn Arete—were like to be out only in the dark hours.

  And she had business with all three of them. Poor Win was dead, but she’d given her oath to save Holmgard if she could. Damn oaths, always trapping her.

  And she needed to find Orvar-Oddr, too, and Vebiorg, assuming the varulf lived. The latter to gain her help with destroying the former. Hervor would do it alone if she had to, but she liked her odds better with Vebiorg by her side.

  So she stalked from alley to alley, watching Tanna’s palace and Nikolaos’s both. From the gate to Tanna’s grounds, a big man stumbled out, steadied himself on the wall, and then shuffled onward.

  Höfund?

  Oh, praise Odin. Hervor had begun to think the Ás king had utterly abandoned them all here.

  Glancing both ways down the road—and seeing no sign of vampires or draugar—she hurried toward him.

  The half-jotunn drew up short at her approach, squinted, then stomped toward her and threw his arms around her. “Half feared you was dead.”

  She could hardly breathe with him squeezing her so tight, but she struggled to return his embrace. “Same.”

  Höfund released her, wobbled, and she caught him. He weighed more than most men, so even his arm around her shoulder nigh bore her down. Still, by the look of him, he’d fared even worse than her. Wounds everywhere, feet burned to a crisp. The poor bastard was barely alive, from what she could tell.

  “What happened?”

  “Orvar tortured me, here and there. Figuring on hurting you by hurting your crew, I reckon. That, and Tanna and his creatures took to drinking my blood more oft than I’d have liked, if anyone bothered to ask on it.”

  Hervor grimaced. “How did you get away?”

  “Eightarms came in, fought with Tanna. We killed him, but Starkad just disappeared off into the night saying that things in the tower needed tending to. Dunno for sure, but I recko
n maybe he meant Orvar.” Höfund wheezed, leaning more heavily upon her shoulder. “Told him we ought all best be sailing off, but he’s a right stubborn one, that.”

  Truer words had never been said.

  Hervor guided the big man away, toward an alley. “Starkad was right here? ”

  “Was, but I can’t say as he’s like to still be close. He was moving a bit faster than I could manage, truth be told.”

  Shit. Hel take all vampires, Starkad included. “You truly killed Tanna?”

  The big man chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that might’ve been intimidating, if his mirth wasn’t so damned good-natured. Like he was also so eager to share his joviality. “Ran him right through with his own blade, I did. Don’t normally hold with stabbing a man in the back, but I reckon he had it coming, all in all.”

  “I’d say he did.” And one problem solved, at least. Starkad and Höfund had upheld their oaths to Rollaugr, though the king might rather have had his son returned to him. He’d have to take whatever small satisfaction victory offered him, though. Naught else remained to any of them.

  She helped Höfund to the alley, and then he leaned on a building, the release of weight from her shoulder drawing a sigh from her. The big man was staring at her now, as if waiting for her to tell him what to do next. Maybe once she’d been the captain of a crew, but honestly, she’d been a rather evil bitch back then.

  And again, in Pohjola, well, she’d all but murdered Ecgtheow, gotten almost all the rest of her crew killed, and somehow failed to foresee Wudga’s betrayal despite knowing she ought to trust him less than a godsdamned troll. No, she didn’t really need to be in charge of aught. And yet, here was Höfund, looking at her and waiting for her to say something to make everything all better.

  She leaned with her back against the wall herself. So her oath to Rollaugr was fulfilled, true, but she had to try to keep her oath to Starkad. And either way, she had to see to Orvar. That bastard needed to die. Or she did. Either way, she’d had her fill of him and she’d made her decision to stop running.

  “Got something deep rumbling around in that head of yours, I reckon.”

  Naught good. She looked back to the half-jotunn. Hurt as he was, he’d probably come with her if she asked. And he’d die for it. Orvar would make certain of that. No, too many people had died over her crime.

  Höfund might well be the closest thing to a good man she’d ever met. Enough so she didn’t want him to wind up the way everyone else in her life did, anyway.

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  He shrugged, then grimaced as even that little motion had pained him.

  “Can you make it alone to the harbor?” She pointed off in the direction of the Black Sea.

  Höfund sucked his teeth. “Been through worse than this.”

  That seemed doubtful, but she’d have to take it as his way of telling her not to worry over him. Which, considering she had rather enough to fret on at the moment, she’d have to accept. “Go to the harbor, staying out of sight as you make your way. At dawn, find a ship willing to carry us out of Miklagard. Have them wait for me as long as they can, an hour from sunset if they’ll do so.” Hervor fished out one of the pouches of silver they’d stolen from Tanna’s vaults and pressed it into Höfund’s hands. “If I’m not back by then, I’m not coming back. And you need to go, take the ship and go.”

  The big man shoved the pouch half inside his trousers, but frowned and shook his head. “Ain’t leaving without you.”

  She fought down the smile his stubborn loyalty almost brought to her face. “Listen to me. I have to go after Orvar. You’re in no state to aid me now.” He opened his mouth, but she talked right over him. “No. You know it’s the truth. You come along you’re more like to get me killed than help me. But I cannot allow this to go on. I must deal with my mistakes. Vebiorg will aid me.” Assuming the varulf even lived. “But I cannot do what I need to do if part of me fears you’re about to do something blisteringly foolish like charging in to rescue me. So I want your …” And here it came, back to this. Always back to it. “I want your oath, Höfund. If I do not return before the last tide of the day, you get on the ship and sail from this place.”

  “I ain’t giving no such oath.”

  Hervor grimaced. Stubborn bastard was nigh as bad as Starkad. And she would not be responsible for his death. No more. She slapped Höfund.

  The big man backed away, hand to his check, mouth gaping.

  “Your godsdamned pride is like to get us both killed. Give me your oath!”

  The half-jotunn spat on the cobbles, glared at her a moment. “You want it so much, fine. I give you my oath. I’ll leave on the last tide. So you’d best be there too.”

  Hervor nodded, trying to keep her face looking hopeful, as much for her benefit as his. With any luck, she and Starkad and Vebiorg would all be on that ship with Höfund.

  But Hervor hadn’t been much favored by luck of late.

  30

  T he corpses of men and vampires lay strewn around Tanna’s tower. Blood splattered the walls, dripped down from the ceiling, and coated nigh every floor in the place. And Starkad was not yet finished. He’d worked his way to the top, slaughtering everyone he could find loyal to the fallen Patriarch.

  None of it sated his rage. And so he delved into the hidden basements beneath the tower, killed a man smoking a hookah, and cut through Tanna’s collection of semi-clad and naked women in the room beyond. Some few of them were vampires, but most human. Starkad paused his slaughter only to sate his thirst on one.

  The room was decorated with plush pillows, several heated pools, and numerous alcoves. Fluted columns supported the chamber, which seemed wider than the entire tower. Torches on those columns illuminated Tanna’s collection of whores.

  Except whores got paid.

  Maybe Tanna was not to blame for all the wretched urd that had unfolded in recent days. Still, his invasion of Holmgard had sparked this conflagration, and Starkad aimed to make certain no other Patriarch wished to repeat such folly.

  Besides, he had something to see to here. Some things could not be borne without recompense.

  From an alcove, a vampire dropped from the ceiling, snarling as he tried to ram twin knives into Starkad’s throat. Mistilteinn split his skull down the middle.

  The women had been screaming from the moment he started his grim mission. As a mortal man, he’d never have stomached such a massacre. Now, sickening as it was, the blood was almost as arousing as the exposed flesh.

  He came around the column to see Afrid Stonekicker, clad only with a sheer sheet around her waist and naught at all over her chest. Along with two other women, she was crouched back in an alcove. The others cowered behind her, looking pathetic compared to the corded muscles on Afrid’s arms and her defined abdomen.

  Starkad snickered. “I suspected I could find you in this tower. Even I did not realize this was how Tanna would repay your service.”

  Afrid drew her chin up, the little defiance spoiled by the slight tremble in her lip and the whimpering of the women behind her.

  Starkad growled at the three of them, baring his fangs. Even Afrid fell back a step, hit the pillowed benches lining the alcove, and had nowhere else to go. That drew a snicker from him. “So you whored yourself to your enemy for a few days’ more life.” Starkad shook his head. “Or did he promise you immortality?”

  The sound of her pounding heart, luscious and terrifying, made clear Tanna had not fulfilled any such promise, had he even offered it.

  “What do you want? ”

  He chuckled. “I have to wonder where we’d be if you had not betrayed us. Maybe things would’ve worked out much the same. The unfolding of urd will not be denied. Your fate, too, seems inevitable.”

  Afrid moaned, ever so slightly. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “How does he take you, whore? In the pools? Do you get on your hands and knees? Does he use the couches?”

  Afrid flinched with each
word. Shit, maybe Tanna and his men had tried all of the above. “Is that what you want?” Her voice sounded nigh to breaking. Pathetic. The once proud shieldmaiden broken by the horrors of the Otherworlds. “You can have me any way you want. Take me from here, and I’ll … I’ll pleasure you every day. I’ll be your slave!”

  Starkad couldn’t help but frown to see a warrior so fallen. Destroyed, body and soul, by forces she could not have imagined dwelt here. Nor could she have hoped to have survived them. Still, she could’ve died with some courage, same as Baruch or Fjolvor or Tveggi. Maybe more of the crew, too, Starkad wasn’t sure. He didn’t know what had become of Win or Vebiorg, or even Hervor now.

  He drew in a breath and blew it out. He didn’t require breath, of course, but the motion was so ingrained it still served to help calm him, focus his thoughts. “I came here to kill you. The only thing I desired from you was vengeance.”

  Afrid closed her eyes tight, raised her throat, and then stared defiantly at him. “Then just do it. Be done with it.”

  Starkad sneered at the fallen shieldmaiden. “Seeing you so pathetic, I find you not worth the killing. Go. Run from here and escape the city if you can.” He almost couldn’t believe his own words. All this slaughter and he’d been thinking of finding Afrid and avenging her betrayal. But then, he’d never imagined finding a naked, abused young girl.

  The shieldmaiden stared at him with such fury he half expected her to attack him, try to force him into giving her some semblance of an honorable death. Maybe he would if she tried it. Instead, she edged around him, followed by the other two, then made a break for the entrance.

  “So,” a hollow, ghostly voice said from the shadows.

  Starkad snarled as he turned.

  Orvar-Oddr had caught Afrid by the throat and hefted her off the ground. One of the draug’s arms was severed at the elbow and one of his legs was a ruined mess Starkad found hard to believe even supported his weight. “All this, and you find mercy in your heart for the very wretch who betrayed you.”