‘Yes, they are,’ she agreed with humor. ‘Go on.’
‘I’m going to assume we created the merciful gods in our own imagination.’ Ferdan’s words echoed in my mind as I aired them. ‘We made them the image of what we thought right and worshiped an ideal we could not reach ourselves. I will also assume the gods care for their sport and their power, and they get bored and are grumpy like any. They are celestial beings and cruel. They are jealous of their possessions. Perhaps some are not, but most are beyond our understanding. I am like them. Afraid, angry, jealous and only sometimes kind. I’ll expect nothing good from them, and so I might be surprised now and then, should I meet some one day. This is how I feel. Yet, you say they would bring us justice. Is that likely?’
‘It is better to be ruled by bored gods than simple mortals,’ Euryale said, impressed. ‘An omnipotent tyrant can make all mortal ones seem small in comparison, yet a god is a god and you worship it, for you have no other choice. They might make things better for most, bring some light to the dark. At this time, I wish to see them returned. Perhaps it’s a mistake? Perhaps they will remake the Nine, and not bring justice but sword and spell?’
I rubbed my forehead. ‘What is the Hand of Life?’
The creature was quiet for a while, then ran her fingers across her arms as she wondered about me. ‘First, you seem scared to your core, afraid of the shadows, terrified of the future, of your companions, most of whom think you strange, but that is nothing new to you, is it?’ I shook my head. ‘Then, you suddenly gather strength, tired of my games and deny a lifetime of lies and demand to know what I want with you?’ She snickered. ‘My, but you must be the one.’
‘What, mistress, am I?’ I asked her again, clutching the goblet of wine as I feared her answer.
She smiled ferally. ‘You are a very special one, Shannon. One I have waited for a long, long time. You are the sole reason I have any interest in the Tenth, to be honest. I have been fishing for a myth and found it. All the ingredients of a miracle are here. You are a human Hand of Life, not an elven one, and the one who will help me.’
‘I will?’
Euryale looked startled for a moment and then continued with a surprised tone. ‘Yes, of course you will. You will do anything I ask. You will, for you fear for your sister as you should. Let us speak about what I need you to do,’ she added. ‘Drink. Ah, here.’ She noticed my cup was empty and forlornly looked at the empty bottle. ‘Does not matter. Fill up the cup.’
‘What ...’ I began but was interrupted.
‘Fill up the cup,’ I heard a gruff voice grumble, ‘into a fine wine it will add up.’
‘I …’ I noticed the goblet was full again. I gazed around and saw the tomte grin from the shadows, having filled my cup with a spell.
‘Nox is a tomte,’ she said with a languid smile. ‘They come from another world, just like we both do and are especially excellent in all magic that nourishes and aids. He belonged to another, but now he serves me.’
‘The slop he serves us is hardly appetizing,’ I complained softly.
‘Yet it teaches you to endure the misery. For usually the Dark Levy is a miserable lot, having lived soft lives inside a pampered shell. Yet, as for you, I think you will get a better fare here, with me,’ she smiled.
‘I shall visit you often, then?’ I asked, dreading her inevitable answer.
‘Yes,’ she said, and I drank and went quiet.
She endured the silence as she looked at me calmly.
‘I am not sure,’ I eventually ventured, ‘I would be comfortable eating well while the others ladle shit into their mouths.’ Dmitri and Alexei would not hesitate, I knew.
‘Ah, humans and their morals!’ she said. ‘And should you eat mutton in thick gravy here, drinking that,’ she pointed at the goblet, and I felt guilty for that as well, ‘then you would still have to eat your portion of the slop below, for you would not wish to get caught enjoying while they suffer, at the very least.’
‘Perhaps,’ I allowed, feeling shamed.
She leaned forward, her arms flexing under her ample breasts. ‘So enjoy and eat both the feast and the slop. Yes. As to who you are? You are the first human I have heard of that can listen to the eruption of Hvergelmir, the tear and flow of the mighty spring of ice, the rime-crusted eleven rivers of our homelands, the eternal streams of Niflheim that feed the Void. You hear the frigid rush of Gjöll and the others, you listen to the grind of ancient ice and oh! It’s so easy for you to grasp at the power. More, not only do you hear the ice, you see parts not meant for the mortals. Humans are exclusive to Muspelheim’s fiery roar, most adept at the pure power of destruction and mayhem. You have a bit of god inside you, girl and so, I have a need of you.’
‘Yes, mistress. A god?’
She breathed heavily, and there was a victorious gloat in her voice. ‘Goddess, rather. A rare thing you are. Much awaited by me! Understand this, Shannon. There are powers no mortal has mastered. One is the skill of the flight. We can pull and push at mighty, massive things, but none can truly fly across the sky like a god. We can travel, but not fly. The Arcane Council has studied that spell for millennia in the Spell Hold and with no success and many silly deaths.’
‘We can fly in the Tenth,’ I leered at her briefly and then looked down. ‘There are these balloons.’
‘You cannot,’ she frowned. ‘Your machines can. But there is more, and listen to me. Only the gods and some of the First Born in their infinite power and wisdom can reverse decay and death, and they know the ancient, original spells that were born with the time. These beings can see deeper to the Shades than mortals. It is theirs to control life and death.’
‘But I …’
‘You, Shannon, bear this burden,’ she said intensely, her eyes burning. ‘As gods do not grant any of their creation eternal life, and as the elves, the highest of their creations suffer from maladies, injuries and are forever scheming against each other, then Odin’s wife, the meddling Frigg bestowed a mighty gift to the mortals of Aldheim. She is a gentle soul.’ She spat and sneered at the thought of Frigg, and I think I learned to love Frigg by her words, and so easy was it for her to restore my faith in the gods.
I gave nothing away, but just nodded. ‘Yes, I see.’
Euryale continued. ‘She saw the elves, quarrelsome, arrogant and thought to meddle in Odin’s and Freyr’s affairs for she loves the mortals. She bestowed a gift on one female, only one at any given time and primarily a female, for you and I both know, Shannon, that females have the wisdom males can only gawk at. Of course, two girls holding such power would make them terrible rivals, for women hate each other.’
I giggled dutifully, thought of Dana and myself and hoped it was not so. We would both have power in Aldheim, apparently.
She went on. ‘She gave the power of wisdom and counsel and the miracle of healing to one mortal being across the lands of Aldheim. She decreed it so that this mortal female is to always counsel the mortal lord of the land, the jewel land of the gods, Aldheim. For while Freyr rules, or ruled the land, there was always a Regent, the highest elf of the First House to run the daily issues and solutions to the many ails of the mortals. So it was, and so she always stood high in the counsels of Aldheim, and she would be seen as the proof of favor to any house holding her favor. Indeed, she stood with the Timmerion House for ages in her armor of silver. One died, another was born, and so The Race was devised, for any house finding the new Hand of Life would rise to the lead. Yet, for millennia, it was the Timmerion’s, every time. Since the Sundering and the fall of Cerunnos, the House Bardagoon, Lord of Ljusalfheim, where Freyr’s Hall stands have held them.’
I was interested, despite myself. ‘Cerunnos Timmerion was the last of the Timmerion clan?’
‘Cerunnos Timmerion was and for thousands of years, held the Hand of Life next to him in high esteem, though I dare say she did not know about the Tenth. Now, of course, there is no House Timmerion,’ Euryale smiled as our faces were very close. �
��Now, there is something I need. Something only the Hand of Life can fetch me. And you happen to be that one.’
‘How is it I am one? Is it because we came from Aldheim initially and are maa’dark, no matter our heritage? Because Cerunnos gave us this power? That only in the Tenth, there are human maa’dark …’
‘Saa’dark,’ she reminded me. ‘Yes, that was my theory, now fact. Humans of the tenth come from here. That means the Dark Levy are from Aldheim, some were altered to hear the Shades, they are maa’dark, and I was right, for they fulfill Frigg’s pact,’ she answered with a relish. ‘The elves assume it must be an elf to hold this honor, but all the old texts I have scourged,’ she nodded at her vast, high bookshelves, ‘suggest Frigg gave this power to anyone of Aldheim at the time of death of the last Hand of Life, anyone who could see the Shades. Elves are arrogant, foolish in their arrogance and so; they are prone to make mistakes. I deducted it would be possible for one of you to be the Hand of Life. So, I went to work.’
‘Work?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed with a fanged smile. ‘Work. I created the Dark Levy as I told you. The priests still called out to Timmerion and the gods. I began to accept their calls. I called back on you humans, the ones still out there. I failed so many times and despaired. Centuries rolled past.’
‘But if there is only one Hand of Life, that means one has to die in order to …’
‘Elves are long-lived. Far too long-lived. You see, the lords of the elves are forever competing at holding the favors of the Hand of Life. As I told you, when one dies, a frantic search begins, and it’s a turbulent time called The Race. Yet, Almheir Bardagoon has been successful in snatching this personage to him for many, many times. I have slain most of them. Not all, but most. The last one died some seventeen years past, in the service of the Regent. The Race has been on for all that time though none dare challenge the First House and its powerful allies in the north, even in the absence of the Hand of Life. And here you are. You are seventeen. You can heal. You can miraculously mend wounds. And now, a mortal, a human has confirmed what I always thought possible. It is possible for your kind to have this mighty power, as well. It is incredibly rare, no doubt, for there are so few of you, but it is possible. You are Frigg’s chosen. And you, unlike an elven Hand of Life, will follow my will.’
‘What …’ I began to ask and shut my mouth and then opened it up again. ‘You killed them? How long does an elf live?’
‘The high ones, for thousands of years,’ she grinned. ‘Of course, I cannot wait for such a long time. So I am called the Devourer.’ She leaned close to me, very close. ‘I have had many fine kills while hunting for the Hand of Life. You wish to know what happened to the one?’
‘Yes,’ I said carefully, not daring to rob her of her apparent pleasure of telling me.
She tilted her head as if relishing the memory. ‘I sneaked to her chamber, Shannon, in the deep of the night. They guarded her, of course, but even the elves have weak moments, they grow complacent and bored and develop habits one can eventually use to one’s advantage. The guard died first. He loved a servant, and I used the servant to distract him, after threatening the servant with the loss of her family. Distasteful?’
‘Yes,’ I said softly.
She nodded. ‘You have human morals. Perhaps that is useful, perhaps not. In any case, the guard and the servant died, entwined in passion, and I took the guard’s face. I gained control of the room she was sleeping in, blocked the door, and there she was, on her bed. She was fair and beautiful, sweet as a young flower. She awoke to my presence and battled me, using mighty spells of guard to cover herself in flames and ice. She called spells of destruction to slay me. She did this for a while at least, destroying the hall but not me. In the end, I left her head on her desk as I fled, and her heart was in her mouth.’ She was looking at me with curiosity as if finding nourishment from my terror and unease. ‘How does that make you feel?’
‘I guess,’ I breathed, ‘you are one evil … mistress. But I suppose that would mean the elven nobles you oppose are good and generous, and I suspect they are no better than you towards us.’
She grinned. ‘Bitch? That is what you likely wanted to call me. You are growing braver. Take care not to become too bold. Yet you gave a sagacious, anciently wise answer, human girl. Nobody is kind to you humans. You are slaves, it is so and has ever been so. You rule your own, but someone always rules over you. Everything is subjective, Shannon. In the Tenth, you slaughter, exercise ruthless prejudice on the less fortunate of the humans and destroy nations and tribes you consider enemies because they believe in different stories. And yet, despite this evil, you can judge others.’
‘Yes,’ I told the beastly creature, deciding to keep the discussion simpler, despite yearning, burning to learn more.
‘Now,’ she continued, ‘the Hand of Life is precious to the Regent. She is the gift of a goddess. She can heal ails and sorrows and such a gift can even make your enemy crawl to you. I saw Danar Coinar, the conservative, ruthless and arrogant enemy of the north crawl to Almheir Bardagoon to beg for his son’s life after a war of the House Volant’s succession. He begged and was granted his wish. The High Council of the Five always quarrels, the south blaming the north for many things they consider sins, the north, being strongest and well allied hold the south at bay. Usually, the Regent finds the Hand of Life easily and without bloodshed. This is so, for few families, those who find their newborn, have this unique gift wish to give her to the southerners, the Houses Daxamma, and Coinar, but rather to the splendor and riches of the north. It is for the Regent then to hold her on their side, trying to keep the precious gift safe from the evil of his foes and my clutches. Yet, the Hand of Life is unique in other ways than her power to heal and counsel. There is a great schism in Aldheim, and that is due to the Sundering.’
‘Tell me about the Sundering,’ I whispered.
‘Soon,’ she answered, placing a cold finger over my lips. ‘It is so, that only the Hand of Life could restore the gods. The south, fervent in their religious madness urges the Regent to use the Hand of Life to fetch an item, a very particular item. The Regent fears to lose the Hand of Life. The Regent had been loath to let the Hand of Life take this dark road, keen to keep them alive and at his side. Only these holy ladies hold a spec of a godly power, they are the only ones who can enter the seat of Freyr, the hall of Ljusalfheim. And there is something lurking in that chamber, Shannon, something that caused all of this chaos in the Nine, and it still holds something I could use. We all could use. The gods as well.’
‘And I am to go and fetch this thing?’ I asked incredulously.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Goddess Frigg had a vision the day she decided to create this great gift and it is known to me.’
‘I am no high caster of Fury, nor am I even an elf. Should I go to … Ljusalfheim and be accepted by the Regent, the elven nobles even, would he let me try this deed?’
‘I will make it so he has few other options,’ she told me casually. ‘And it will be very hard. But what else can you do? The gods are heedless and lost, you only have me, and together, we can restore the balance. The charge Frigg gave to the Hand of Life, Shannon, was to heal the ails of the land, and this ail is in need of healing. The hall is guarded, human girl and my friend, by spells that only the Hand of Life can pass.’
I stared around the room, my mind whirling by the many implications of her words. I would die. I was sure of it. I let myself get lost in the sight of the room. Many wondrous apparatuses lined the desks, some apparently unused, covered with a fine layer of dust, many statues leered or stared at me from the shelves. I spied the huge cabinet, made of dark stone, hosting thousands of small statues. Another like it loomed on the far wall and next to it was a covered, oval-shaped mirror. Euryale smirked. ‘Many are magical. The Crafters made them thousands of years past. You are all I thought you would be. Curious and intelligent. I have waited for so long for you.’
‘While killing those hu
man saa’dark who do not have my skill. Selling off to slavery the others,’ I stated angrily though I kept my face away from her.
She nodded heavily. ‘Yes. While slaving your kind to the elves is good business, I have ever hoped one day the Hand of Life would manifest out of the gate. It was my theory, and I was right. You can spare the others to come this fate. Perhaps you can restore their sanity as well if the gods return.’ I often felt I had been one of the most shunned people in the world, and now a woman with snakes on her head claimed I would be a god-powered speaker for the elven world and could change all the Nine. And the Tenth. ‘Are you all right, human girl?’ she asked, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
‘Yes, mistress,’ I told her with a small grin. ‘I love irony, that is all. I am sorry. Are you sure of all of this? What if I can just heal and found a spell none have ever found before. Perhaps it is a skill? And now, I am being set up for something I will ruin entirely.’
She cocked her head at me, wondering. ‘Skills are humbler things. Rare and precious, but smaller in many ways and usable even with Bone Fetters. Worlds are full of exciting creatures, some nearly as old as the worlds themselves. We were all born when the ice and the fire filled the Void and the gods appeared to create the Nine. Since then, none has healed, save the gods and the Hand of Life. None. The others cannot see such depths of the Shades. Even I cannot. You can see powers you might think anyone can touch, but few can, in fact. So. There is purpose in this, Shannon, and that you can heal, it is beyond unique. But I do not trust even such odds, but ask the fates. Hear this. It is the old prophesy by Frigg.’ She suddenly grasped something behind her chair and pulled forth a man’s head. It was half rotten, the jaw was horribly burnt and twisted, the hair gone to the bone, but I saw it was Ron. I felt breathless terror as she was calling for powers, and I saw the ice and wind twirl in a somewhat repugnant way, touching strange vapors at the edge of the ice. She was hissing at the head, caressing the charred lips and then she gave it a dry kiss.
The Dark Levy: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Ten Tears Chronicles - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 1) Page 16