“You know of artifacts?” I asked him.
He nodded. “Studied with a dverg once. A prisoner he was. My father bought him off the gorgons. The snake-haired females hold a virtual monopoly on slave trading in Svartalfheim. They trade the very best in rare dverger and jotuns and such. We didn’t put this dverg to the pits, though. He taught—”
“Pits?”
He looked confused. “Yes, the pits. Fighting pits. We celebrate everything with a battle. Elven and svartalf hearts, my friend, were crafted from that of Odin, and Odin is a lover of war. There are no slaves in Svartalfheim, not for manual labor at least. The ones who are captured will be sold to the bidders who set up the battles. With the war, there has been a great demand for ritual battles to celebrate losses and victories and upcoming battles” He smiled crookedly. “Because of the war, there is a great supply of such fodder as well.”
Odin the lover of war. Shit, and he is supposed to save the Nine?
He shrugged and took out a belt, a dark, simple thing. “The grander the cause, the greater the battle in a Pit. Scardark has the best Pits, of course, but we do well in the other cities. Alas,” he said wistfully, “my father was King of Illar, and a rival took his throne. Here I am, a crafter in exile. Could be worse.” He gave me a look I didn’t enjoy.
Could be worse, like I had it. “Is this expensive?” I wondered.
“It is,” he said. “It’s coin or favor I charge. I suspect Cosia, the daughter of Eris can pay for it, though. If not, I’m rich enough. I’ll survive.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “I have … had an artifact. I called it Iron Trial.”
“Oh,” he chuckled. “A Trial? A trial for you, yes? A powerful thing?”
“Yes,” I said, and leaned forward, whispering. “It was always a strange and dangerous thing. I feared it. Then, suddenly it grew in power. There was a battle, and I was almost crushed under its will. It nearly consumed me. I had no clue what happened, and—”
He smiled. “The armor and swords and spears we make in the Serpent Style are simple artifacts. Few of us are skilled in the minor enchantments of the Gift and while useful, they are minor. They are simple things, all small and insignificant in the great game of crafting powerful artifacts.” He leaned forward as well. “Then there are the ancient pieces. Imagine an era when the gods were young and merry, and the dverger were born. The powers of magic ran in their blood. They knew the lands of power, and were familiar with the mighty rivers themselves. They were young as the gods were, unwise, and foolish, and let loose their imaginations. Thousands and thousands of mighty things they created, the ancient smiths of the deep forges. Some of them, the very best, could see deeper into the flows of Nifleheim’s rivers, and the roaring inferno of Muspelheim. They could pluck and braid and weave spells into the finest things you can imagine. And some, the dark-hearted dverger? They say they found a way to bind a soul inside artifacts. Some of the mighty weapons have a spirit, living thing you have to share the tool with.”
I nodded. I could very well imagine the Iron Trial was such a thing.
He slapped his knee. “Many a mortal would give their life in pursuit of such a thing. Then, finding it, they are disappointed. They won’t be like the gods. The artifacts are just as mighty as their wielder. So they say. If you are a maa’dark of simple powers, your blood thin like miser’s wine, you will not have great use of it. On the other hand, if your blood is running with the power of the ancient beings, or you are an arch mage of fame, then such a thing might wound even the gods themselves.”
“My blood?” I asked him, frowning.
He snapped his head. “Yes, yes. Indeed. Your blood must be strong.”
“I’m a human. I’m a maa’dark, and I suppose no less powerful than most elves, but—”
He shook his head in denial. “But the cause must be you. You and it, together. Alone, it is just a dead thing. They all are. You said you lost control of it, that you wreaked havoc such as you could not imagine possible? And so, perhaps you are not a human at all, but your mother mated with Lok?” he laughed and handed me some gloves. He looked at me steadily and then at the glowing fetter in my arm. “No need to show that to anyone else. Cosia’s little sisters will keep the secret,” he said and nodded outside, “but there is no reason to put a Bone Fetter on a human, unless there is something odd about the human. It’s more than an artifact with you, isn’t it? You truly can See the Shades.”
I didn’t answer. My mind was whirling. My blood made Iron Trial what it was? And it had grown into a monster? I looked at my chest and frowned. A curse in my blood?
He slapped his hands together. “Are you listening?”
I squinted at him and shook my head. “Sorry. No, I won’t show anything to anyone.”
“I think you will,” he smiled in a way I didn’t enjoy. “Just keep the glove on.”
“Just keep the …” I wondered, and he waved the question off.
“Yes,” he said, and nodded at me to go on. “Keep the glove on. I rarely take part in Ruugatha, and I’ll deny everything if you fail, but good luck, young human. You’ll need it!”
I pulled the thick gloves on, and looked around me. He tossed me the sword. It was a sabre, much like the ones the cuirassiers used back in the Tenth, a heavy killing blade. “And is this enchanted?”
“Like the armor. Light and heavy at the same time,” he said proudly. He pulled me up, checked the thick belt around my waist, and tied the sword to it. “Use it well. I—”
Flutes played somewhere. The beguiling notes echoed across the lakes. The sounds were magical, enchanting, rousing and clearly they were being played for a purpose. One of the gorgon sisters poked her pretty face inside. “It is time. Is the pasty lizard ready?”
“Do you understand I speak your language?” I asked her.
She gave me a pitiful shake of her snakes. “Of course I do! And it’s an endearment, my friend. I like such lizards. Had a pet like that growing up, and I rubbed its pale belly. Maybe I’ll rub yours?” she asked happily, though I had no idea if she’d rub it with her spear. She beckoned. “Come now. The game is on. Ruugatha! The throne will be Cosia’s, or Cosia shall rot with you. And perhaps with us. Play your part to the last detail. Or fail.”
“I don’t know the detail!” I growled.
“Right,” she said with a frown. “Well, keep your calm, and pretend.”
I nodded at her. “Your names?”
“Yris,” she said and smiled widely, her fangs shining. “And Dimin.” She thumbed behind her where her sister waved her fingers. She nodded for the door. “Come. Keep quiet. Look proud.”
Gods, spare me. I didn’t feel proud. Anything but proud.
The svartalf nodded as I left, and I hoped he had not sent many such consorts to meet the queen of the land, only to see them buried in shit or fed to the crabs the next day.
The way passed the tall white walls, and a small round guard tower. The two sisters were chatting softly, as if there was nothing of great interest taking place. Some members of the guard, wearing silvery chain armor and golden shields gazed at me from the wall, then frowned at my frivolous escorts, who were, nonetheless, relatives to Eris the Old. We saw the gates before us were open. They looked like the yawning maw of a monster, the beast carved around the gate. Guards nodded at the sisters as we approached. There were more flutes playing in the Silver Mount, the castle, and lights shining from many small windows. Yellowish glass panels were open on many floors. Aromas of delicious food wafted in the air and I shook my head, reminding myself the creatures ate meat, any kind of meat, like Thak did. Back in Euryale’s tower, they had probably eaten Abel and Cherry the day we arrived in Aldheim.
And yet, it was probably the most peaceful land I had visited in a long while.
I had lived with Euryale’s kin in the former hold of Cerunnos Timmerion, then endured the south lands of Aldheim, and their frenzied attempts to slay us all. Then, Himingborg, and the war, and finally the Himing
borg where no living things ruled.
The land of the gorgons was a pleasant change to all of that. They loved art, it could be seen on the many statues and subtly, skillfully painted detail on the walls and towers and the houses. There was the finest balance and thought put into everything.
We passed into a gatehouse and behind us the gates were closed. Before us, another set of gates. They were silver like the other parts of the fort, but also spiked, reminding one this was a deadly place to assault. The metal of the gates, as they swung open, was as thick as Thak. I stepped into the courtyard, passed it and found a pair of heavy silver doors open. I entered into a world of light. Gorgons were celebrating in the lower level of the castle, which was basically a huge open space filled with comforts. Couches, chairs, fire pits and heaps of delicacies helped the heaving mass of gorgon nobility pass the night. I walked forward, the gorgon sisters following behind.
“Do not make a mess of it,” Yris whispered and pinched my rear. Dinin chuckled and I cursed the two. Perhaps they were trying to make me forget my fear, and it worked. I was fuming as Dinin skipped forward and mimicked her sister, and only after I reached the middle of the room, they let me walk with dignity.
Ruugatha. Toppling of a Throne. I didn’t see the throne. The two gorgons were whooping and hugging gorgons they knew, and I wanted to kick them. Screw them and their uncaring bravery, I thought and stopped there, as I spied the end of the floor. There was a slightly different level of luxury heaped in the far corner of the keep. Tables of silver, couches filled with golden and rich red pillows, and sensuous dancers created a sense of entitlement. There the celebration was that of thirty higher nobles. It was clear by their jewelry. Was I supposed to go there? I looked around, confused. I gazed up to the higher tiers of the Silver Mount, where guards stood impassively behind railings and before silver doorways, their snakes weaving slowly around their shoulders.
“Welcome,” a sing-song voice full of power echoed in the chamber, “to the celebration for my daughter.”
I turned to locate the source of the voice. Yris appeared and slapped my head, and pointed a finger towards the more luxurious area. I squinted and finally spotted whom I was looking for.
Three gorgons had blocked the sight, but they moved away.
There sat a short, delicate gorgon with a white sea of snakes as hair. She sat on a long, rough seat of silver which had room for many. Its ends rose high, curling with chiseled heads of monsters. Cosia was on her knees before her, and Eris, because that’s who it was, was surrounded by six beings like Thak. Fire giants. They were gorgon-sized then, black as coals, hairless and thick boned, their muscles pumped and toned. All sat behind Eris, all were armored in plate and chain, all had weapons of deadly build. All were utterly deadly, and gods know what Cosia expected would happen if I challenged Eris. All of them scowled as they looked my way, as if hounds smelling a cowardly, starving fox sneaking near a henhouse. Some clutched their weapons and one even pulled a sword.
I walked forward, and was grateful the gorgons didn’t take time to stop from their celebration to stare at me. I approached the gorgon’s Silver Seat, and tried to keep my head up with pride. Arrogant and proud, I reminded myself. That’s the way they like them. Eris put a hand on one of the giant’s arms, tapping it, and they relaxed, though reluctantly. Her lovers? Consorts? Possibly just guards.
I stopped behind Cosia, who didn’t acknowledge me. I stood there and endured Eris’s scrutiny. She didn’t look ancient. Like Stheno and Euryale, she looked ageless. Her eyes were black as any gorgon’s, the snakes white as milk, long and thick, and her body was short and well-toned under a short tunic of silver. If she ever died of old age, she’d be a beautiful corpse. She was playing with a snake, twirling it around her fingers. “So, a human of Aldheim?”
I was about to answer, but something in her manner warned me off, and I kept my mouth shut. Cosia spoke instead. “Yes. He’s mine. I picked him up from the elven army.”
“A reluctant consort?” Eris smiled. “I’ve had some. They don’t usually adjust well. But perhaps such a servile creature might? Humans have pride, but they are also reluctant to die, aren’t they?”
Cosia shrugged and spoke with no care. “Willing and unwilling, doesn’t matter. He is mine now, and I’ll keep him until he no longer amuses me.”
Eris was nodding. “I am not questioning your choices, daughter Cosia. Frigg knows I’ve had my taste questioned before, and I’ve tasted everything. But how did this come about?” She leaned forward and lifted Cosia’s face with her foot. “You say you picked him up from an elven army. And you escaped the dead queen? I see she took your fangs,” she said.
“Yes,” Cosia growled, and I had a hunch things were not moving along well. “She took my fangs. And I picked him up from the elven army.”
Eris nodded and spoke softly. “Did you see Euryale fall? Some who returned did. You failed to protect her.”
Cosia nodded. “She had the powers of a dragon, and she died. Hel’s servant is powerful. I could do nothing.”
Eris chuckled. “And now they wish to fight each other. Let her try to kill Stheno then. All the kings and queens and hosts will be there to protect Stheno. Euryale got arrogant. Stheno will not. I hear she carries Famine?”
“She carries Hel’s dagger,” Cosia agreed.
“Then,” Eris snarled. “Let us see how Famine measures to the Scepter of Night. This Hand of Hel is a fool if she thinks she can—”
“She has her own issues in Aldheim,” Cosia interrupted her, and immediately bowed her head in apology. Eris scowled at her daughter for a while, and finally waved at her. Cosia went on. “I escaped during a battle with the elves.”
“How?” Eris asked. “How did you escape?”
She bristled. “I am Cosia. A fighter of your blood. They got careless during a battle. And so I escaped.” She lifted her hand and there, the Bone Fetter glowed. “Should I describe every enemy I killed? How I killed them? The guard in the Citadel thought I would be harmless if I was barred from Seeing the Shades. I killed it. Then I found the one who held my bond, during a battle in the night. They were distracted, Mother.”
“The Fetter suits you, “Eris murmured and I saw Cosia kept herself from cursing but only with great difficulty. Her mother was not too concerned, and seemed to loath her.
Cosia went on with a tight voice. “I joined the battle, killed many of the draugr, and released myself. Only the Hand of Hel has a hold on my fetter, and I will never see her again, if I am lucky.” She pointed at me. “This man served Shinna Safiroon, and I spared his life for his valor. He helped free me. He fought the draugr who tried to recapture me. It was a confusing night, but there we are. I’m home. And he is not reluctant. He wanted to come.”
“Such valorous acts,” Eris said and smiled. “And he helped a gorgon?” Her eyes turned to me.
“I helped her,” I said with a stutter and cleared my throat. Improvise, fool. “I helped her against the dead. And she took me with her, after she promised me—”
“Riches,” Eris said thinly. “Did she promise you these things before, or after you helped her?”
“Before,” I murmured.
“A mistake, human, to trust her,” Eris chuckled. “Never trust Cosia.”
Cosia didn’t so much as twitch at the insult.
“But,” Eris said languidly, a snake slithering in her hand, “you are here, and not a corpse in the corridors, so perhaps she means to keep you close to her bosom, after all.” She turned her eyes to Cosia, her voice changing to steel-point sharpness. “And now you are back. We all serve Stheno and Euryale. They helped banish the gods, they raised themselves to the throne of Scardark, and Svartalfheim. They will … Stheno will take Aldheim, and if she regains the Horn, Midgard, Jotunheimr. She’ll rule vast lands, even with the recent setbacks. But you, my daughter. What am I to do with you? I served Stheno all this time. You left me to serve Euryale.”
“Were they not allied?” Cosia asked.
“Did I ally with an enemy? No.”
“Yes,” Eris answered with amusement. “They were allied. Sisters. Though Medusa left them to serve Hel, you joined the one who was an ally. Most,” Eris said with a mocking, relaxed voice, “think you volunteered to serve Euryale to gain her favor in order to gain my throne. To grow in power with the gorgons that chose Euryale over Stheno, in order to come back one day to topple me. Stheno and Euryale were allies, but also competitors. Was Euryale interested in sponsoring one holding the Silver Seat and all the riches and power it entitles to its queen? Did Euryale not know I stayed loyal to Stheno? Did she hope you—”
Cosia shuddered and chuckled. “It is true,” she answered. “Of course it is true. Some svartalfs and dverger, and jotuns and dragons joined Hel in her war. Medusa, their own sister did as well. But I risked death and joined Euryale to gain power under her. I would have no mother to lord over me. Yes, yes. I was a naughty child. I knew they competed with each other as well and perhaps one day would have been enemies and gods might have helped me sit on the seat you occupy. We all know it. Mock me no more. I wanted the throne.” Silence. The nobles were looking on with morbid fascination, probably waiting to see Cosia’s head leave her shoulders.
And mine soon after.
Cosia went on. “But Euryale is dead, Mother. Euryale is gone, and now I want to come home. I’ve got nothing left out there. All the plans are dust, Euryale is dead, and I’ll serve Stheno under you. Or not at all. You send me away, or keep me. I am tired of it.”
Eris nodded, her snakes agitated. “I sense you have suffered much. You are not what you were, once. There is something about you. Something is lacking. I wonder if it is only your pride and ambition that is missing?”
Throne of Scars Page 17