by Lou Anders
Karn nodded at the draug. Then he walked out the door and into the world above.
The Battle
There was no sign of Ori or the others. Karn realized that a Thrones and Bones game took considerably longer than a sword fight. Maybe they had assumed he lost and had left. But he hadn’t lost. He climbed up the ramp from the barrow and looked around.
The runestones stood unmoving in the night air. They hadn’t changed. His father was still stone.
He had really believed he could bring Korlundr back. Had Helltoppr broken his word? Had Karn misunderstood the curse?
Eyes shut, Karn leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cold stone. Only, the stone wasn’t cold. It was heating up, right under his forehead. He pulled his head away and opened his eyes.
Colors were forming on the carvings in the gray stone surface. Then the larger runestone began to crack. The image of his father grew more realistic, the crude representation gaining depth and color.
Suddenly, the runestone burst into grains of dust. A wind blew up from nowhere, whipping the dust away. When it dispersed, Korlundr stood blinking in the moonslight.
“Father!” shouted Karn, throwing himself at Korlundr.
“Karn!” Kornlundr hugged his son to his chest. “What happened? Where is Helltoppr?”
“You were turned to stone. You were turned to stone, and I thought you were dead. But I beat Helltoppr, Father. I beat him and made him give you back.”
“Stone? You beat him?” said his father, incredulous.
“A runestone,” said Karn. “Like them.”
He pointed to the other stones of the longship, but they were also bursting apart and crumbling. The strange wind blew again, and a group of some dozen or so men and women found themselves released from their standing stones.
“What is going on?” demanded a burly Norrønur who could easily have been one of Helltoppr’s raiders over a century ago.
“That is going to take some explaining,” Karn began.
“My son has rescued you,” his father interrupted them. “He faced down Helltoppr and freed you all.” Korlundr leaned over and whispered in Karn’s ear. “When we get home, you’re going to have to tell me how you managed that.”
Karn nodded, still tingling with relief at having rescued his father. Then thoughts of home triggered a new worry.
“Father, it was Uncle Ori. He tricked us so he could have the farm.”
“Ori,” said Korlundr, his eyes narrowing.
“There’s no time. He has help. And they have Nyra.”
“Nyra?”
“And Thianna. I owe her my life. We have to help her.”
Karn turned to the newly freed souls, who were clustering around them.
“We are in your debt,” said the burly man who had picked up on the tail end of their conversation. “You say you need help now?”
Karn smiled.
“I have a friend in trouble,” he said, raising his voice. “She needs rescuing. As does her family. And I have a traitorous uncle that needs catching, and some other villains as well.”
“I don’t understand,” said a woman who held a mean-looking ax.
“What’s to understand?” said the burly man. “There’s fighting to be done and payback to dish out.” He spoke to Karn again. “Lead on, boy. We’ll follow.” There were grunts of assent all around. They were Norrønir, every one. They understood obligation, they understood payback, and after decades frozen in stone, they were eager for some righteous action.
“Come on,” Karn said, leading them down the barrow and toward the woods. “I’ll explain on the way.”
Thianna stood atop Dragon’s Dance with her head bowed. Karn had gone into the barrow, and he hadn’t come out. She couldn’t bear to admit it, but he wouldn’t ever come out again. He had told her that it would be all right, that the game wasn’t over. It clearly was.
Karn was gone, and Sydia had the horn. Ori had ordered Rifa to hand it over once he saw that his nephew had been “dealt with.” Even so, the leader and her remaining soldier, furious when they discovered their third member had fallen, planned to drag Thianna back with them to face “justice.”
The two women packed up their camp quickly. Karn’s treacherous uncle Ori stood waiting, clearly expecting something. Thianna was disgusted, but not surprised, when she saw a bag of coins change hands.
Thrudgelmir stood by gloating the whole time. She thought the giant was even worse than Ori. Ori betrayed his own kind for money. Thrudgelmir received no reward for his betrayal, except to fan the fires of his hatred.
Sydia addressed Thianna.
“We are ready to go,” she said. “Any trouble, and we’ll drop you off halfway.”
“That means from way up high,” said her companion, stating the obvious.
They shoved Thianna toward a wyvern. This time she’d be tied down across it, the beast led by a rope tied to one of the other mounts. They were taking no chances.
“Hold out your wrists,” Sydia said, preparing to bind Thianna’s hands.
Thianna hesitated. It galled her, to have come so far.
“Do as you are ordered,” the other woman said, bringing her flame lance to bear.
“Never been much good at that,” Thianna said, refusing to show fear.
Just then, the hair-raising shouts of Norrønir war cries broke from the forest. A band of strange men and women burst from the shadows. They waved swords, spears, axes. They were racing up the hill.
“Who in the world?” exclaimed Sydia’s soldier.
“No matter,” her leader replied. She aimed her lance at the newcomers. “They’ll burn easily enough with all that hair.”
Thianna kicked with the sole of her boot, knocking the lance from Sydia’s grasp. The other woman snarled and drew her sword. Thianna raised bare fists.
Magnilmir and Eggthoda leapt out from behind the standing stones. They swung huge clubs—the dragon-headed tent gables they had snapped apart.
One stone club cracked the soldier on the head, and she went down. Sydia fared better, but she was being driven back by swings of the giants’ clubs. Thianna took the opportunity to bend down and relieve the fallen soldier of her sword. She was delighted to see that in addition to her newer blade, she also carried the ancient spatha Thianna had found beneath the coliseum. Thianna straightened up, gripping a sword in each hand. It felt very right.
Ori and his thugs charged her, but then a second group burst from behind the wattle-and-daub hut.
“Karn!” Thianna yelled in relief. Beside him she saw his father and a group of Norrønir she didn’t recognize.
She pointed a sword at the first group of strangers.
“These with you too?” she asked.
“They insisted on coming when I told them about all the fun.” He smiled back.
Karn had split the Norrønir into two groups. The first had provided the noisy distraction, allowing the second group to scale the hill in secret from the opposite direction. It was a good strategy, reflected Thianna, but then she expected nothing less from a skilled Thrones and Bones player.
Then Ori’s thugs met Karn’s warriors and the fighting was all around them. Swords and axes and spears and lances swung to and fro. Shouts and battle cries rang in the night.
A club whistled in the air over Thianna’s head. She ducked and spun, and found Thrudgelmir towering over her.
“I was a fool to think humans could fix my problems,” he said. “Now I’m going to get rid of you myself.”
Beside him, the two other traitorous giants moved to surround her, but Magnilmir and Eggthoda charged them. It was three against three.
Thrudgelmir came at her fast, his great club swinging, chasing her back. One blow from it would end her.
She never gave it time. Instead, she dove between his legs. Then she flipped around and kicked with both feet to the backs of his knees. Over he went.
“How many times, Thrudgey, will you fall for that trick?”
> He never got a chance to answer. Gindri brought down his hammer on Thrudgelmir’s head with all the force of an arm used to pounding metals on dwarven anvils. Thrudgey’s eyes rolled up in his head and he was out cold.
“Thanks,” Thianna told the dwarf.
“My pleasure,” Gindri replied.
Then it was back into the fray. She knocked aside a few of Ori’s men and raced to help her father and Eggthoda. They didn’t need it. The younger giants were hard-pressed to hold their own against the more experienced adults, and Gindri ran among all their legs, smashing his hammer mercilessly into their feet. Karn’s sister lobbed rocks at their opponents with wild abandon.
Elsewhere, Karn saw that Korlundr had found a weapon. Even without a magic blade, he was more than a match for the thugs facing him. They didn’t last long.
Karn still hadn’t found a weapon, but now his uncle ran at him, drawing Korlundr’s own sword and howling.
“You should have stayed away! I told you, Karn!” he yelled. “I don’t like to lose. You’ve made me lose, boy. But I won’t go alone.”
He swung Whitestorm wildly, driving Karn down the hill. The sword missed Karn and took a chunk from a tent gable. Karn stumbled past stone dragons as he sought to avoid Ori’s blows.
Karn knew in moments he’d be pinned against the low stone wall, a bad position when facing an uphill attacker. But Ori’s anger was making his uncle move too fast, swing too wild. Ori was off-balance. It turned his uphill advantage into a disadvantage. Karn waited for a particularly wild swing, then stepped in close, grabbed Ori’s shirt, and then deliberately fell back.
Karn hit the hill and rolled, a move he’d learned from the giantess. They went over, and over again.
He came up on top.
He planted his fist hard in his uncle’s nose.
Ori yelped and dropped Whitestorm.
Karn snatched the sword and jumped clear of his uncle’s grasping arms.
Ori looked around desperately for his hired muscle. His face fell as he realized he was alone.
“Karn,” he said, his voice taking on a pleading edge. “My dear nephew.”
“Don’t ‘dear nephew’ me,” Karn replied.
“Come now, surely you understand? All that talk of the unfairness of my birth on the road to Bense. Mere seconds kept me from being firstborn instead of my twin. You know I had no choice. I couldn’t be expected to strike out on my own without all the workers I’ve become accustomed to. Just me and a few hirelings. Why, I’d have to actually … farm.”
“You tried to murder my father. To murder me.”
“But I didn’t, did I? Here you are. And look at you. How much more resourceful and responsible you are. All’s well that ends well, isn’t it? Couldn’t you just look the other way while I nip off? You couldn’t hurt your uncle, could you?”
Karn hesitated. He felt the weight of Whitestorm in his hand. He wanted to swing it now, but how could he take vengeance against an unarmed man kneeling on the ground at his feet?
“I’m no farmer, Karn, we both know that. I really couldn’t stand all that … dirt.”
Suddenly Ori’s hand came up as he flung a clump of ice-encrusted mud in Karn’s face. Momentarily blinded, Karn raised his free hand to wipe his eyes. Ori shot to his feet and raced down the hill. Gripping Whitestorm’s hilt firmly, Karn plunged into the woods after his traitorous uncle.
Thianna was taller than the largest of Ori’s men. Her time facing hardship and danger on the run had toughened her. She knocked them aside like snowmen as she sought out Sydia in the chaos.
The foreign soldier saw Thianna coming for her, and her eyes narrowed. Everywhere, Sydia’s falling allies were being beaten back. Thianna could see her appraising the situation. The battle here was lost. But it had never really been her battle.
Thianna watched the woman grip Talaria’s horn where it lay on a sling at her side. She had what she had come for. Sydia turned and fled the battle, racing to her mount where it waited beside the cabin.
Thianna charged after her. If Sydia took the horn, it had all been for nothing.
Sydia leapt into the saddle. The wyvern beat its wings once. The sudden gust of swirling snow and the rush of air drove Thianna back. When she dropped her hand from her eyes, she saw that the wyvern had taken to the sky. Her heart sank.
Standing a little way off and pawing impatiently at the frozen earth stood the beast Thianna had ridden. It cocked its head at her expectantly.
My orders going forward are a little unclear, it spoke into her mind.
“Speak your meaning,” Thianna asked aloud. The wyvern twitched its wings, obviously irritated.
She has the horn. She means to flee this country. I was told to bring you here, but I wasn’t told what to do next.
“You mean that I can order you to follow her? She hasn’t given you any instructions that would prevent you from helping me?”
Praise the day! She’s not too thick-skulled to understand.
“No need to be sarcastic,” replied Thianna, approaching the creature and reaching for the saddle. She hauled herself onto its back, hooked her feet into the stirrups. “No time for it either. Let’s go.”
My thoughts exactly.
With a triumphant screech, the wyvern burst into the sky.
Checkmate
Ori led Karn on a swift chase. It was hard to see his uncle in the dark woods, but it wasn’t hard to follow him. Ori made as much noise as a bear, if a bear were panting and whimpering. Plus, Karn thought he knew exactly where Ori was headed. He stayed on his uncle’s trail, holding Whitestorm out in front of him.
Karn feared letting Ori reach the barrow, but he was having difficulty closing the distance. He had already exerted himself considerably that day, whereas Ori had largely been watching others fight. Karn could get close to him, but not close enough to catch him.
They broke from the woods into the moonslit glade. As he had guessed, Ori was heading straight for Helltoppr’s Barrow. Karn’s feet pounded the ground as he put everything he had into gaining on his uncle.
Karn jumped for Ori, his fingers brushing his uncle’s coat just as they reached the entrance to the barrow.
In desperation, Ori pounded on the door.
“Helltoppr, get out here!” he shouted. He cast a panicked look at his nephew. Karn steeled himself and tightened his grip on Whitestorm.
“Come away, uncle,” said Karn, lowering the tip of the sword to point at Ori.
“For Neth’s sake, Helltoppr,” his uncle pleaded. “Pry your bones off of that chair and come help me.” He looked at Karn with eyes that gleamed with fear and anger both. “I’ve brought Karn to you. Come and get the meddlesome boy.”
From inside the barrow chamber, the green glow of the balefire swelled. Karn heard the rustle of old bones and rusted armor. Helltoppr was coming.
He backed up a step, only to feel a bony hand close on his shoulder.
“Oh, I think you’ll want to be here for this,” Snorgil said in Karn’s ear. He looked at the draug, surprised to see Snorgil’s attention focused on Ori, even as his hand held Karn firmly in place.
Rifa appeared on his other side, a wide grin under his perpetually shattered nose. He too was staring at Ori with anticipation. A rustle behind him let Karn know that Visgil had completed the triangle that pinned him in.
From the barrow, Helltoppr emerged, his great ax in his hand.
“It’s about time,” Ori snapped. “The boy almost had me. If your incompetent After Walkers had done their jobs properly, I wouldn’t have had to lead him all the way here myself. Twice.”
Helltoppr said nothing. Karn noticed that just like his minions, the undead dragonship captain’s gaze fell on his uncle, not on him.
“What are you waiting for?” Ori demanded. “Get him! He’s disturbed your rest, so challenge him to another fight.”
“Is that true?” Helltoppr asked, finally acknowledging Karn. “Have you come to challenge me again?”
; “Nothing doing,” said Karn, “It was Uncle Ori who did the knocking.”
“What?” exclaimed Ori, a look of alarm breaking out on his face. “No! I led Karn here. I brought him to you. I only knocked to get you to come out, I …” Ori stopped, realizing he had just admitted to knocking himself.
“I think it was three times, too,” Karn added helpfully.
“Dear me, is that right?” said Helltoppr, a cruel smirk on his face. “Three times, was it?”
“What are you s-saying?” stammered Ori. “You can’t mean—surely you don’t? Helltoppr, we go way back. We’re friends. Snorgil, Rifa, Visgil, tell him. Aren’t we all friends?”
“Friends,” sneered Snorgil. “What was it he just called us?”
“ ‘Incontinent,’ I think,” said Rifa.
“He said, ‘incompetent,’ you idiot,” corrected Visgil.
“Right, right,” said Rifa. “Not very nice either way, though, is it?”
“What? Did I say that? I didn’t mean—Look, Karn is right here. Get him.”
“The boy won his battle with me tonight,” Helltoppr said. “But he never would have done so if you hadn’t dragged me from my grave into your sordid plans for trifling power. I fought all the jarls of Norrøngard in my day, but you can’t see any farther than one measly farm. And now your petty little plots have cost me all the stones of my longship.”
“This isn’t how it is supposed to go,” said Ori, genuinely terrified now. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Helltoppr, laying a skeletal hand on Ori’s head in something like affection. “I’m just going to have to start a new collection.” His fingers tightened, gripping Ori’s head like a melon. “Beginning, I think, with you.”
The After Walker looked up at Karn.
“You probably won’t want to stay for this next bit, boy,” he said. The three draug closed in on Ori. Ori tried to shrink back, but they jostled him roughly toward the corpse door and the tunnel beyond.