The Dark Levy: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Ten Tears Chronicles - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 1)

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The Dark Levy: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Ten Tears Chronicles - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 1) Page 17

by Alaric Longward


  The eyes fluttered open, the tongue lolled out, and the face took on a confused look. Euryale smiled at me. ‘The maa’dark, especially the elders like me, know many spells, my lovely Shannon, and your friend gave me some help as I have forgotten the old prophecy. He fetched it for me when I was chatting with it last night. Hear it.’

  ‘He was not my friend,’ I said with a small, scared voice.

  The head was not offended, but spoke dryly and haltingly.

  ‘The Eye of the Crow,

  from Hel’s face shorn,

  the gods are gone, the Horn is lost,

  both will be found at a great cost.

  An awkward fool,

  will dance with the twisted ghoul.

  Cold-Hand shall find the tools,

  and argue over love’s curious rules.

  The Pact of the sister is fulfilled,

  the false god wickedly thrilled.

  The Horn shall blow,

  freedom for those below.’

  ‘Silence, my dear,’ Euryale whispered to Ron who was smacking his dry, dead lips, and I felt a moment of confusion as I nearly offered him a drink. It was a damned, talking head. ‘Silence and be quiet. Sleep now, and go to Hel.’ She kissed Ron’s face again and regarded me with amusement as she lay the head before me, her delicate lips smeared with some repugnant blood and rotten flesh. She licked it off, and my belly churned. ‘It is no Mimir’s skull, no, and the hints it can give are tenuous at best, but this is an old poem. Tell me, are you an awkward fool? I think you are. Did they not call you such? That Ulrich? It is no coincidence. Hand of Life. Those are holy words, given by Frigg in her hall Fensalir when she gave a part of her to gift the first elf with this duty.’

  I bristled at her amused tone and drank the wine to the end. I hesitated and leaned forward to place the now empty goblet on top of Ron’s head, and she looked at me curiously. ‘I feel the fool, sometimes, mistress. What is asked of me? Exactly. And what does the cold-hand mean? And the rest of it?’

  She leaned back, looking strangely haggard. She waved a hand. ‘The rest? Cold-hand? I know not, dear. We shall see. Consider it an adventure. And so, I shall tell you of the Sundering. The worlds are not balanced, girl. We are cut from the gods and it is so because the gods did not pay attention when they made the elven nations. The pointy-eared, black-hearted bastards wanted more than the Tenth. They wanted this world for themselves, as well. Or rather, House Timmerion, the First House of Aldheim, the lords of the Grey Downs and vast lands of the Lost East wanted it. Like they wished for the Tenth, so they schemed to get the grand jewel. Cerunnos Timmerion, the eldest arch-mage of the land, the first elf and slayer of dragons, the maa’dark of the First Light was not content with his splendid wealth. He sat at the feet of Freyr in Freyr’s hall, in Ljusalfheim, the home of House Bardagoon, but he wanted the seat, not the pillow at his master’s feet. It was his fault, his and his court’s.’

  ‘There was a war?’ I inquired.

  She nodded. ‘There is ever war with the elven noble houses. There are thousands and most feud in silence. Other times the massive wars of the major house fill the land with death, but this was a different kind of a war. There was a war that began when Hel, daughter of the demi-god and giant-friend Lok was cast from the heavens and torn from her father’s bosom to care for the dead in Nifleheim; a punishment for Lok’s many crimes. Before that, she was a happy girl, a slip of a girl really, dancing in the flowery meadows of the Nine. She visited Aldheim, time and again and danced under Mar and the Two Hounds, our star and moons and was more beautiful than millions of stars on a bright winter night.’

  ‘Hel? Truly?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, and I noted a brief moment of grief in her voice. ‘Then, suddenly, by Odin’s wrath she was misshapen and unhappy, doomed forever to shoveling the rot of those who died ingloriously or of sickness. She was the caretaker of the mortal spirits and in care for the deceased evil and the despicable weak. Her flowers were gone and so was her dance. She was given death to look at, dead to care for, a bed of rot, a throne of skulls. There she sits, brooding and vengeful, mad, perhaps, ruling the rebellious dead and the reclusive ice tribes of the elder world of Nifleheim and oh, she is a queen most terrible in her anger. Then there was the business with Baldr, for Lok wished for revenge, for Odin’s revenge, and not even the gods know where that started.’

  My heart fluttered. ‘I have heard of this. Lok killed Baldr by trickery?’ I asked, intrigued. ‘I think Grandmother once told me about it!’

  The gorgon leaned forward. ‘Yes. Lok was bitter to Odin for the insult of taking his children from him, even if Odin punished him in the first place for his meddling and scheming against the gods. In vengeance, there is no beginning, Shannon, only the end when one cannot retaliate anymore and gods, girl, can do it for a long time. Yet, a fool of a god, the blind one Hodur, who was fooled by Lok, poisoned Odin’s son Baldr. None had time to heal him, nor to get to him. The Nine Worlds shook at the high god’s anger, for Baldr’s spirit did not linger in Valholl, but by Odin’s own degree flew to Helheim, where those go who die ingloriously of age or disease. The bright god had not fallen in war nor bravely, for he cried in hurt and pain and soiled himself as he went. So, Odin sent Hermod, his servant to fetch Baldr back.’

  ‘Hel must have enjoyed this,’ I murmured. ‘Did not Hel ask for all things dead and living to weep for the poor, beautiful god, and if they did, he would be restored?’

  Euryale laughed gratingly. ‘Oh, she did. I saw it. She made Hermod wait and seated Baldr so this could be viewed by all, still in his soiled clothes. Imagine the insult. So, when a giantess Thökk refused to weep for Baldr, Hel condemned him to remain with the dead, it did not sit well with the Aesir and the Vanir. No.’

  ‘You saw this?’ I asked in awe.

  She hissed and then she was laughing. ‘We saw it. All the denizens and us, the First Born of Niflheim saw it. Oh yes, we did. And so, in our greed we agreed with what Freya and Freyr, the cursed Vanir sisters and rulers of this land suggested. We stole the Eye of Hel, also called the Crow’s Eye. The one thing she treasured beyond Baldr’s imprisonment.’

  ‘How did you steal it?’

  ‘She knew me,’ she said quietly, looking away. ‘She was misshapen, sad and alone. And I showed her compassion.’

  ‘You were friends?’

  ‘More!’ she said unhappily.

  ‘You pretended love for her?’ I asked with a small voice.

  ‘Pretended …’ she whispered, looking down. Then something changed in her, and she shook her head empathetically. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And when she was not expecting it, I used her blade, the Famine to cut it off. I fled as she hollered in excruciating pain. I managed my escape, by magic and guile, and as Freyr instructed, I gave it to Cerunnos Timmerion, here in Aldheim for safe keeping. The gods were to bargain for Baldr and we were to receive …’

  ‘Riches and land here,’ I concluded. ‘Surely this place is warm and wealthy, more so than a glacier.’

  ‘I hate the cold,’ she grinned. ‘And so, I took her eye. And fled the land of the dead and gave it over.’

  ‘What did it do?’ I asked as she shifted in her seat. ‘The eye. Crow’s Eye. For it was surely precious.’

  ‘It allowed her to gaze at the realms. The poor girl was lonely, as I told you,’ she said unhappily. ‘The only device she had for seeing what she once loved, and I took it.’

  ‘They reneged? The gods? No. The elves did, of course.’

  She laughed. ‘Yes, they trusted their foolish servants far too much. They trusted the Eye to Cerunnos Timmerion, their mighty Lord, the First Light, Regent of the land. Yet, the elf had other plans. There are masterful elven maa’dark, casters nearly as powerful as the gods and so they are arrogant. Oh, let us be fair, perhaps Cerunnos had a reason to betray Lord Freyr. After the theft, Hel unleashed a swift, brutal war in these lands, as you see when you gaze out of the window. Across many planes, in fact, searching for the eye. Ma
ny of the finest elven cities are built around the gates of the gods. In the east, the Lost East, the elven city of Aggarnor was surprised to meet the grinning legions of Hel’s armies, Jotuns of Niflheim, white dragons of the glaciers and many other beings rushing through the gate into the heart of their city. Hel’s minions and mercenaries sacked the whole of the east, then sailed across the Dancing Bay, destroyed Cerunnos Timmerion’s hold here and were finally fought to a standstill in Himinborg by the valor of Cerunnos Timmerion, heading all the elven armies. Yet, the gods were slow to muster Asgaard, bent on negotiating while the elves suffered. Hel’s minions burnt and killed and brought rime ice and bitter winds across the lands, leaving rubble, iced cities, butchered houses and burnt citadels in their wakes. Perhaps the gods enjoyed the spectacle? Yet, Hel was no fool to trust her armies. She sent her servant, the wily Ganglari to Asgaard, pretending to give Baldr back and by incredible feats of lies, Ganglari stole the Gjallarhorn of Heimdall. I hope they flayed Heimdall for his lack of care, the god of vigil. Faugh! That horn is the key to the gates. That horn opens and closes all the gates, dear. Ganglari stole it and had it blown across the lands and all the gates were closed, the gods trapped in Asgaard, the fools betrayed. All the gates were closed, save the one from Niflheim to Aldheim for Hel wanted to destroy the land, regain her eye and to keep Baldr.’

  ‘And where are the relics now?’ I asked..

  ‘Ah, you have a taste for the old stories, you do,’ she laughed. ‘The elves still served Freyr, his sister Freya and even high Odin and on the god’s behest, they made a pact with Hel she would get her eye back, should she leave their land at peace and return the horn. Oh, they met Hel’s servant Ganglari outside Himinborg and that is when Cerunnos Timmerion failed. He dreamt of victory. Of more that the Tenth. Of Aldheim, one without the gods, who had been trapped. He held the grand, fabulous eye, Hel’s fateful eye and stared at it and then he showed his true color. He refused to give it over. Oh, the rage! Hel sent the remainder of her armies, her giants and legions of the dead at the high walls of Himinborg and while the elves eventually prevailed, enduring significant losses, Hel was cheated again. The elf grew bold. He had even grander plans by now. Cerunnos now had the Tenth, Aldheim, and he thought of taking the war through the gate to Helheim, to Nifleheim. Finally, after petrifying losses on both sides, Hel had the horn blared and so the last gate was closed. So it stands today. The elf holds the eye, Hel the horn, and the gods hold the grudge, no doubt.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I?’ she stretched, her many fingers rapping the wood mightily, the claws making small marks on the hard wood. ‘I am stranded. Delegated to the role of a merchant. My sister is Hel’s prisoner. We loved the gods, obeyed them and now, due to the elven betrayal, we are as sundered as the gates. The gods cannot reward us for our thievery, so we are also cheated. And the land suffers for the elves without the gods are like humans. Nasty and bitter.’

  ‘If the elves could drive back Hel’s armies, how is it you survive?’

  She laughed, bitterly. ‘Well, Shannon. I have a secret, one that makes me very, very powerful. They do try, occasionally, to bring the war here, especially if I have taken something of theirs.’ She smiled. ‘But Grey Downs is hard to take. I have sunk many, many ships around its waters, so many the sharks and monsters of the deep have learned the feeding is good on these shores. I’m more than I seem, for I have a secret that gives me great strength with the Shades. So they endure me, fight their own wars and trade with me when they need weapons to use against each other. Which is often. And I? All I want is to restore the gods. And my sister. And the gods’ reward, for Freyr owes me.’ She was moody and forlorn, seething in anger and then sorrow.

  ‘I am sorry for your sister.’

  ‘Sorry?’ she roared, her mood changing direction like a wayward tornado. ‘We are the night terrors, Shannon. We have devoured thousands of your kind, destroyed nations and kings of men across the planes and the worlds. I am the elf eater. The Devourer. We are not to be pitied. We are duchesses of Niflheim and beyond human remorse. But I want her back. And that means the horn has to be rescued.’

  ‘From Hel?’ I asked.

  ‘From Hel. And she has to receive her gods cursed Crow’s Eye, her only treasure, her fine eye in order for the horn to be released,’ she said heavily. ‘Then, the gods may return, punish the guilty, and I shall be reunited with Stheno. We shall find a home as we were promised, no longer a prisoner on this accursed rock, dealing with filth and slaves, eating elves and men I find boring to crack open anyway.’

  ‘But how can one reach Hel, even if one is to find the eye?’ I asked, ignoring the part about cracking open men as dread made me shiver. ‘The doors are closed.’ She disappeared, her shadow whisking along the floor and the chair.

  She appeared at my side, whispering. ‘There are ways, my love. But as you said, we shall need the eye.’

  ‘And I truly have a part to play in this?’ I asked incredulously. ‘This is the duty the Regent is loath to give his Hand of Life? A dangerous mission? You said something is trapped in Freyr’s Hall. Is this where …’

  ‘The Eye is in the hall, yes. For Cerunnos Timmerion stole something that belongs to the goddess of Rot and perversely, his trophy corrupted him. He is still there and so is his court, the ones he spared. He left many of his family to defend this citadel when Hel’s armies sailed, getting rid of his mighty daughters, but he took his fawning advisors, and they are all dead and living both now. And none can enter unless they are touched by the goddess, charged with the preservation of Aldheim. And you are.’

  ‘I am to go there and …’

  ‘You will dance with the ghoul, for it is an undead, terrible thing that has taken Freyr’s Hall, and only you can defeat it. You, the awkward fool.’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Shh,’ she hissed. ‘You are a healer, love. You, a human woman are the Hand of Life, a creature Frigg gave the elves as a favor, a healer and an advisor, though, in truth, little heeded, for elves love war. You will be loathed for your ancestry, but also loved for the elven Regent will have a need of you. Oh yes. Trust me with this. And you likely ask what you will receive, should we make a pact?’

  ‘Yes, but surely I shall die!’ I yelled as she grasped my chin, her fangs near my face, her arms grasping at my robe as she pulled me to stand before her. I looked away from the fiery eyes as her four hands gripped me and removed my robe.

  I shivered as she gazed my nakedness up and down. ‘I’ll free you. You shall be the first and the only human saa’dark to be made into a maa’dark. You will be allowed to walk without the Bone Fetter, this magnificent shackle. The doors will be open, gods will fill the worlds and life will change. Perhaps we will find a way to send you home if you wish? Perhaps your muddy ball will again see the Shades and even the gods will find it. In short, you may go, you may stay, but you will be powerful and free. You will walk or you will run, at your own speed, exercise your own will, and go where you wish. And you may take your sister with you, yes? A sister for a sister, eh? Blood is all.’

  ‘What do I need to do?’ I asked, nearly pissing myself for her evil eyes were burning with maniac hope, a whiff of desperation, her breath reeking of blood. ‘I am no match for a … ghoul, surely. Not even if it is blind and demented. I am powerless.’ Her hands caressed my naked sides and shoulders, gently, and I could feel my heart beating against my chest.

  She breathed her warm breath on my face. ‘I will teach you what you need to learn. You will learn to hold power like your friends do, you will learn to fight, and you will be something, Almheir, the so-called Regent, will need desperately. A noble and wise Hand of Life you shall be, no matter your race. He will need you, and he will let you attempt to restore the gods, for times will be desperate, and he shall have trouble that can only be averted with the help of the gods. You shall begin the road by learning, by excelling in this power. Fail at that, and you shall regret it. And so shall your sister. Every day, you shall
be here, and I will school you. When Almheir Bardagoon has taken you, you will find and retrieve the Eye of Hel, and I shall use it to recover the Gjallarhorn, and we both will see our sisters.’

  I nodded. ‘I agree to this pact,’ I whispered.

  ‘Ah, I agree as well. But I shall make sure you are also properly motivated,’ she said and grinned. The snakes flew out in a threatening manner to surround her, looking like a living cloak of darkness, throwing back her hood and cowl, and for a briefest moment I saw those ancient, terrible eyes. She was a writhing, living beast of nightmares. Her mouth was impossibly stretched, like ours had been when she had summoned us, her soulless eyes were like fires of the hottest inferno, and I felt the outsides of my eyes petrifying. I wrenched my gaze away. She fell over me, her fangs tearing at my shoulder, and I felt drained, unable to even scream as I felt some part of me being whisked away. The snakes slithered around me, holding me still with brutal strength. I whimpered in terror and fear as she fed on my blood. I swooned and shuddered, fighting the urge to try to run as her snakes caressed and licked my breasts, but I refused to scream. Struggling would be futile, perhaps mortally so.

  Finally, after minutes had passed, she was done, breathing hard, her face calm, and I turned my face to stare at the blood trickling down my breast as she straightened. I fell to a seated position, staring at my ragged shoulder and I swooned, terrified, weak and nauseous, to my side, feeling as if I was dying. There was a throbbing, seeping pain in my chest. ‘What I gave you, Shannon, will one day slay you. It is called the Rot, and elves know it well. Only I can cure yours. You cannot, not that. It’s as old as the gods and the Hand of Life has always failed in trying saving herself from it. I know for I have experimented with your dead predecessors. Why? I know not. But you can heal it from others. This I have also seen. And you will. You will see. Fail or rebel, Shannon, and you shall regret it. This is my pact, one not based on trust, but fear. Terror and fear of death have ever worked wonders with those who are too honorable for their own good. Now, heal the wounds. Touch Gjöll and her sister rivers and weave your spell. The Rot will remain.’

 

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