Frostborn

by Lou Anders

  “Karn, you can’t stand against Helltoppr.”

  “How can I not?” argued Karn. “If there’s even a chance that my father’s not dead?”

  “But …”

  “You’d do it. If Magnilmir was in trouble, you’d go back.”

  Thianna locked eyes with him.

  “Yes, I would.”

  “So then …”

  “But, Karn,” the giantess went on, “I can’t go with you. I’ve got to keep this horn far from Ymiria. Far from Sydia. I don’t know why she wants it so badly, but whatever she wants from it can’t be good.”

  Karn nodded. “Then this is goodbye.” He felt oddly formal. He held out his hand. She stared at it, the wind blowing her hair across her dark eyes. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me,” he went on.

  Thianna threw herself at him, gripping him in a fierce hug.

  “Spine! Cracking!” he hollered. But he was laughing. To think that someone so strange and irritating had become so close to him …

  Thianna set him down. She brushed at her cheeks. “Wind in my eye,” she mumbled.

  “Mine too.”

  “Good luck, Short Stuff,” she said, giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder. He put a foot forward to keep from stumbling. It was going to be hard to travel alone without her, but now that he’d made up his mind, there was no choice.

  He pointed his feet toward home. He could feel Thianna’s eyes watching him, but he didn’t turn around. After a few moments, he could hear her footsteps carrying her away.

  The frost giant made it a good ten paces southward before she stopped.

  She knew Karn wasn’t going to make it without her. She’d had to rescue him from the snow, from the trolls, from the avalanche, from the cliff, from the water. But he’d saved her too. From Sydia. And from the dragon. True, she’d rescued him more than he’d saved her, but she had to admit, the dragon counted for a lot.

  What was facing down a few draug when you’d already bested Orm? She had to keep the horn away from Sydia, but the woman already knew she was heading south. Maybe doubling back could throw Sydia off her trail. She would just toss the horn into the sea if it wasn’t her only link to her mother’s past. She’d never cared about that past as she was growing up, but now …

  Thianna barreled into Karn before she even realized she’d made up her mind. He gave a startled yelp as the two tumbled to the ground.

  “Surprise, Norrønboy! I’m coming with you!”

  Thianna helped him to his feet, dusting him off almost protectively.

  “We’ll face our threats together,” she said. “Whatever they are.”

  “Okay then.” He smiled. “Let’s go home.”

  “Wonderful,” said a voice. “That’s just where we plan on taking you.”

  The bronze-and-black-armored woman had her lance ready, pointed right at them. Even so, Thianna held her horn, poised to use it to torment the mount.

  “We’ve been in this standoff before,” said Thianna.

  “No cliff for you to dive off this time,” said the soldier woman.

  “Never a cliff when you need one,” groused Karn.

  Thianna blew a quick blast from the horn.

  The wyvern bucked, almost throwing its rider from the saddle. She shot a burst of flame into the air over their heads. They recoiled from the heat.

  They ran, drawing swords as they did so.

  “Keep piping on that thing,” said Karn. “Keep her from controlling her mount.”

  “Way ahead of you,” said Thianna between blasts. “Hard to run and blow.” But she only had to keep the wyvern disoriented enough that it couldn’t follow them.

  They crested a small hill. There was a small herd of wild cattle at its base. The cattle moved uneasily as Karn and Thianna thundered into their midst.

  Something darted across the ground at their feet. A cat, its fur strangely wet-looking. As Karn passed it, a hand gripped his sword arm. A clammy hand. It dragged him to a halt.

  “Boo!” said Snorgil, leering through his rotten teeth.

  Karn tried to wrench his sword arm free, but the draug’s grip was unbreakable. He punched Snorgil in the face with his free hand. The feel of the soft, decaying flesh was sickening, but the blow didn’t seem to hurt the After Walker at all. The herd shifted around them, nervous. Where was Thianna?

  Karn spared a glance and saw the frost giant struggling with two of the cows. Why, at a time like this? No, not cows. A bull. And a horse. Their hides were filthy and also wet. Like the cat … A cat, a horse, and a bull—they were the animals from his dream. The ones who had sung “The Song of Helltoppr” to him. He could identify the wetness of their hides now. Their flanks ran with thick black blood.

  “Draug,” he said. He looked back at Snorgil. “You were the cat.”

  Snorgil grinned. “A convenient form for dream-walking.” The draug cast an unfriendly glance at the sky. “And daytime travel.”

  Thianna was swinging her sword at the bull. It had reared up and was kicking at her with powerful hooves. At least one struck a glancing blow on her shoulder, but the big girl just shrugged it off. There was strong, and then there was Thianna strong.

  Inspired by his friend, he kicked Snorgil savagely in the leg. The draug almost lost his footing, but he clung to Karn and stayed upright.

  “None of that, boy,” he snarled. “You’ve had your fun, but it’s over now. You’ve given us enough trouble to last me for the next century or two.” The After Walker head-butted him then, sending him crashing to the ground.

  Then a lance poked Karn in the throat.

  “Enough,” spat the soldier, who had dismounted and stood on the ground, her finger on the trigger. She pushed the point of her flame lance sharply into Karn’s flesh. “I’m pretty sure I won’t miss at this range.”

  It was over. They’d caught him. Karn nodded. He saw that the bull was still a bull, but the horse had turned into Rifa. That meant the bull was Visgil.

  “Enough!” the soldier said again, shouting now at Thianna. “I will boil this boy if you do not lay down your arms!”

  When Thianna saw Karn’s predicament, her shoulders sagged. She growled at the soldier but lowered her sword.

  “Drop it,” the woman insisted. “On the ground.” Reluctantly, Thianna did so. “Now the horn. Drop the horn as well.”

  Thianna hesitated.

  “Drop it now,” the woman commanded. Her thumb moved on the trigger of the lance.

  Thianna tossed the horn to the ground. Rifa smiled and picked it up.

  “Give that here,” said the woman.

  “When we reach Helltoppr’s Barrow,” Snorgil said, “then we can all get what we want.” He looked at Karn and smiled unpleasantly. “Well, not what you want, obviously. But what’s coming to you.”

  Karn spat at the draug.

  “Oh, cheer up, boy,” the undead Norrønur said. “You want to be reunited with your old man, don’t you? This way, you and he get to be together for all time.”

  Karn was thrown over the back of the bull, his wrists and his ankles bound by a cord stretched under the creature’s rotting belly. It was sickening. But worse was the feeling of hopelessness and failure.

  His position of being strung over a bull’s back also afforded him with a good view of the ground. It was flying by with alarming speed. No real animal could travel this fast.

  He felt the cat’s claws dig into his flesh to steady itself. Snorgil had changed into a smaller form for the trip.

  “Watch it,” Karn complained.

  “Sorry, boy,” the cat replied, not sounding sorry in the least. “Wouldn’t want to cause you any unnecessary pain. Then again, you led us on quite a chase. So necessary pain is probably okay.”

  The claws dug into Karn’s back again. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut. Anger made for bad decisions. He needed to keep his wits about him. He’d meant to return anyway, and now he was heading home, and fast. He just had to work out his next move. The draug had
left Whitestorm in its sheath. They seemed afraid to touch the blade, but with his hands tied it didn’t do him any good. Unfortunately, his pack had been abandoned, along with all of his supplies and his prized playing set. He always thought he’d be buried with it. Even Helltoppr had a Thrones and Bones game among the hoard in his barrow. Karn shook off the thought—getting a new game would be the least of his worries if he made it through the day alive. But then he had an idea. It was ill-defined, just the beginnings of a plan, but it was a ray of hope in the dark.

  Thianna rode in front of the soldier with her hands bound behind her. It was disconcerting. The woman had far too relaxed a grip. Thianna wondered how much trouble the woman would be in if she fell. Maybe the soldier was considering the same thing. Probably better to keep her big mouth shut and not antagonize the woman.

  “Hunch!” the soldier said, shouting in her ear against the wind.

  “What?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Don’t sit up straight. I can’t see where we’re going over your bulk.”

  “Not my fault you foreigners are so tiny,” Thianna replied. So much for keeping her big mouth shut and not being antagonistic. The woman shoved her hard, jostling her in the saddle.

  “Okay, okay.” Thianna bent her torso over the wyvern’s neck. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was better than falling to her death.

  Long way down, said a voice in her mind.

  “What?” Thianna replied.

  Not out loud. She’ll hear you. Just think to me.

  Think to who?

  To me, idiot.

  You’re the mount, um, the wyvern?

  Do you see anyone else up here?

  No need to be snarky.

  There’s every need. You allow the instrument of our slavery to return to our masters.

  You mean the horn?

  Of course, the horn. Are all giants as thick-skulled as you?

  Thianna thought about that: Probably. But the horn, she asked the Wyvern, what is it?

  I told you. The tool of our masters.

  Yeah, but how does it work?

  You already know. It compels us. Without it, we could cast off these yokes.

  But it’s been missing for years.

  One song, played by a master with the proper skill, lasts a long time.

  It’s been missing my whole life!

  I said, a long time, didn’t I?

  So what happens without it?

  Its effect begins to wear off. We begin to think for ourselves. We were hoping it would stay lost. Then you had to go and blow it.

  So why are you helping Sydia recover it?

  There you go again, showing off your thick skull. I said it compels us.

  Then what’s the point? Why are you even telling me this?

  You have blown the horn many times now. You have carried it for days.

  Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that.

  Bah, spare your pity. You don’t understand my point. You compel us too.

  So.

  So, you are a master. And never have our masters been at cross-purposes.

  “Oh,” said Thianna out loud.

  Quiet.

  Sorry. But you are saying that while you still have to obey your masters …

  Having two masters at odds with each other gives me a bit of latitude in interpreting my orders.

  What would you have me do?

  I can’t have you do anything. Aren’t you paying attention? But you can have me do something. If you demand it of me now, while my rider isn’t giving me other orders.

  Ah. Okay. Well then, let me go.

  Can’t. I’m under a compulsion to return you to Sydia.

  Then what good are you?

  You can order me, as long as it doesn’t conflict with my other orders.

  I see.

  You do not.

  I’m beginning to. Give me a moment.

  Thianna grinned.

  I bet you are one impressive flyer.

  Of course. But hardly relevant.

  Oh, I think it is. I’d like to see a demonstration.

  She dug her heels in tight to the wyvern’s side.

  Show me a loop.

  Inside her mind, Thianna thought she could almost feel the beast smile. Then it gave a beat of its wings and reared up, so steeply that she was thrown against the woman. This wouldn’t work if the soldier gripped her. She tossed her head backward as hard as she could, teeth gritted against pain as her skull smashed into the woman’s face. Thick-skulled, indeed.

  Then they were upside down. Thianna gasped as she saw the world overhead. She dug in with her knees, but it was harder to stay on than she had imagined. She felt the reptile’s flanks slip away under her. Then Thianna, like her mother before her, was falling from the sky.

  The Game

  Cold air whipped around her. Thianna was frozen in a moment of sheer terror. Below her, the white earth was rushing upward far too fast.

  Was this it? With both “masters” gone, was the wyvern free to fly off wherever it wanted? Or was it still bound to fly northward to Sydia, carrying the horn in its saddlebag to its enslavers? Either way, she wouldn’t be around to find out.

  Through her panic, she wondered if this was what it had been like for her mother thirteen years ago, when Talaria fell from the sky. Did plunging to your death run in their family?

  The ground loomed large before her. This was it.

  Then large claws snatched Thianna from the air. Large, scaled claws.

  She hung by her shoulders in its grip, her feet dangling above the earth.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d catch me,” she said both aloud and in her mind.

  I can’t let my master fall.

  “What about your other master?” she asked. There was no sign of the soldier woman. Thianna glanced down at the ground and shuddered.

  I can’t catch but one at a time, the wyvern replied with a mental shrug.

  It slowly glided to the ground, dropping Thianna when she was perhaps five or six feet from the earth, then flapped its wings to settle in front of her.

  Thianna picked herself up, glad to be alive and in one piece.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  I am still under a compulsion to return to Sydia.

  “That’s okay. We’re heading that way anyway. Karn’s going to need somebody to rescue him.”

  She turned around, raising her wrists to show the beast.

  “But before we get going, think you could run a claw through these ropes?”

  Night was falling when Karn reached Dragon’s Dance. There were lights at the summit of the hill. Not ghostly balefires, but the lights of a camp. The yellow glow of natural fires made his heart swell with longing for his father and the time when his only complaint was slopping pigs. But this was no Norrønir camp.

  The bull leapt the small stone wall encircling the hill without pausing. As they approached the summit, Karn caught a glimpse of figures huddled at the base of the three standing stones, as the pretend animal stopped short. Karn felt the ropes fastening him to the creature go slack; then he was tossed unceremoniously off its back.

  Visgil transformed into his rotting-corpse form, grabbed Karn by the arm, and hauled him to his feet. His wrists were still bound together, though it felt good to have his legs free. He wondered how far he’d get if he tried to run.

  The door of one of the wattle-and-daub cabins opened. Sydia.

  “Finally, the thorn in my side has been plucked,” she said in her strange accent. “You should listen to your uncle, boy, and stay away from giants.”

  Karn shook off Visgil’s hand and straightened to his full height.

  “My uncle! You just be glad that my uncle isn’t here, or he’d have a thing to say about you abducting his family members.”

  “I doubt that,” Sydia said, smiling cruelly. “But you can ask him yourself.”

  She stepped aside from the cabin’s doorway. Behind her, a Norrønur walked forward into the moonslight. />
  “Uncle Ori!” Karn shouted in excitement. True, Ori had warned him to flee and never return. But once he explained that Korlundr wasn’t really dead, then they could find a way to set things right together. But what was Ori doing with Sydia?

  “Karn, Karn, Karn.” Ori was shaking his head sadly. “What have you gotten yourself into? You were warned away, nephew. You could have slunk off to Araland or anywhere. The farther the better. But you had to go and involve yourself in things that are none of your affair.”

  “What are you t-t-talking about?” Karn stammered. “This crazy woman has been after us—look, Korlundr isn’t dead. If we can beat Helltoppr, we can get him back.” But Ori wasn’t listening.

  “You’ve never cared for anything but your precious Thrones and Bones before, boy,” his uncle went on. “Why bother yourself with matters of the farm now? Oh, what to do with you? What to do with you?”

  “Uncle?” said Karn.

  “We are not kind to kin slayers here,” Ori said, speaking to Sydia as if he were apologizing for the rustic ways of his quaint people. “Blood for blood and all, you understand.”

  Sydia nodded.

  “But … but Korlundr isn’t dead. We can release him.”

  “Got his father turned into a runestone, he did,” continued Ori. “It’s only fitting he stand beside him.”

  “Aren’t you listening?” Karn yelled. “I tell you, my father isn’t dead!”

  “Delightful,” Ori replied. “Then you’ve nothing to fear from sharing his same fate.”

  Ori nodded to Visgil, who gripped Karn from behind. The boy struggled to throw off the draug, but Snorgil and Rifa appeared beside them, again in their corpse forms.

  “Ha, lazy ol’ Ori,” laughed Snorgil. “Still getting us to do your dirty work. No matter. All’s well that ends well, they say.”

  Karn looked from the draug to his uncle.

  “You know them?”

  “I always found it useful to have friends in low places,” Ori said with a shrug.

  “They’re undead!”

  “Nobody’s perfect,” Snorgil mumbled, sounding genuinely hurt.

  Karn’s mouth moved, but he was speechless.

  “Oh, don’t take it so hard, nephew,” Ori said. “It’s not that I don’t like you. Just think of this as a game. I warned you before, I don’t like to lose.”