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

by Alaric Longward

  ‘My sister is dear to me and I will not let you down,’ I said, happy as she took her hand away, turned to sit down after dragging a chair to face me and was soon leaning on her knees.

  She spoke happily. ‘The Rot is there to guard and tether you, and so is your sister. Do not worry, Shannon, as I traveled today in northern Aldheim I succeeded in finding us opportunities to finish our collective pact, I can tell you I did. Yes, I did. I planted a seed, Shannon, which will bear us dark, thickly delicious fruits. It will be well, my love. You will stay here, I think, for months only. I am in a hurry now, for the seed I planted is growing impatient quickly, and the Feast will be exciting, full of new opportunities, previously missed.’

  ‘Is this fruit made up of poison, treachery, and death?’ I asked.

  She nodded. ‘Indeed. I planted that kind of a seed, girl, and it was delicious and deadly, and it will bring you freedom, no matter its nefarious nature. And to your sister as well. Never forget that. And yes, I have decided I shall let you study. I have precious little time for questions, but I will choose books for you to read and you shall come here each morning. It is a sacrifice for me, human girl, for I value my privacy and the pristine mornings spent in contemplation, but then, perhaps I can yield just a bit on that. You were betrayed yesterday?’ she cocked her head.

  ‘Ulrich,’ I said.

  ‘Ah, it was the vengeful boy who betrayed you? Did he, did he? Did I not tell you so?’ she chuckled. ‘I will train you, you shall learn, and like sisters we shall be in this study. Then, one day soon, we shall travel. You will learn about some lands of ours as you wish. However, it is no task for weeks. I do not care to teach you the history of the bygone houses, no, nor of the lands no longer there, but you shall study the minds of the houses that rule this day. You will enter a dangerous world of conspiracies and need to know that smiles do not always mean friendship. Or perhaps you learned that yesterday.’

  ‘And such conspiracies are the bread you enjoy and eat, no?’ I said with a smile.

  ‘Careful, Shannon, even if that is true. Do not disrespect the hands that can strangle you,’ she hissed with laughter. ‘But essentially, yes.’

  ‘The Hand of Life is a hard commodity to come by,’ I retorted foolishly and went silent, letting that small jab sink in. ‘How many houses are there of the elves?’

  She shrugged, her manner nervous, anger playing in the undercurrents of her beautiful voice. ‘A thousand. There are some millions of the bastards in the east. More than fifty million humans are living in these lands. Other creatures, plenty of them. You will never learn of them all. The rest is wild. There are millions and millions of elves and humans living past the Carrion Peaks to the south, islands we no longer remember and lands we never visit to the east. But the north is where the power lies. Never forget it. They all vie for one thing.’

  ‘The Regent ship?’

  ‘That and you,’ she snickered. ‘You will fetch the Eye of the Crow and then we are done. This one deed is all I require.’ She had a strange, wrathful look on her face for a moment, but it quickly disappeared.

  ‘Will you teach me new spells?’ I asked.

  ‘You are the Frigg’s Gift. Whatever it is you must do there, elven hands have failed at it before. I trust the prophecy; the one claiming an awkward fool is to succeed. You will do this deed and succeed. Worry not. I doubt battle spells of Fury will destroy old Cerunnos Timmerion and his risen court. Those who have tried it before are dead. They were taught spells all their lives. There are old elven scholars in Colleges of Adapted Arts, White Halls and Spell Hold and mighty maa’dark who devote their entire lives to the discovery of spells. They study the Fury for violent applications of the power and the Gift of utility and comfort. Moreover, all such spells have failed against Timmerion. You will be different because you are different.’

  I shook my head in disappointment. ‘Yes, I understand.’

  ‘Even if they disdain your roots behind their icy smiles, Almheir will beg you to save his child and what is left of his wife. Therefore, he will let you enter the Hall of Freyr. Now, hush.’

  If I escaped, I would have to get my friends to safety. To foil Euryale’s plans, I needed the Regent. I would bargain for his wife’s life, his child’s life.

  However, I would be lost.

  ‘I’m impatient,’ I told her resolutely, pushing back my terror.

  ‘Patience, precious one, is not something either of us possesses.’ She grinned. ‘But I have waited many lifetimes of a human for such as you, so I have a good reason to seethe.’

  ‘Am I precious enough to make demands to you?’ I asked.

  She laughed. ‘And they have indeed begun to fool you, have they not? Your enemies are making demands on you. Fooling you. And in the end, they will be the death of you. I told you to look out for them. I told you to pretend to be weak and then nip them. Instead, perhaps you are weak indeed and …’

  ‘They are not my enemies,’ I said carefully.

  ‘They are if they would try to use you to get them free as well. Have they asked you for this? This is your opportunity to slay them. If they are asking to be free of their mistress, I should know.’

  ‘I would like them to be free, no matter if they ask or not,’ I told her with pride and went silent for a while. Had they indeed used me? No. Feeling compassion for them was not a weakness. ‘And they have not asked me.’

  She gazed at me intently. Then she pointed a finger my way. ‘Very well. One can always make demands, human girl. That is not forbidden. Demand away, Shannon. Then you shall look at my galleries of stone corpses and think better of it, for I can give you my word and pledge indeed, easily I can. I can make you salivate with beautiful promises and hints at hidden treasures. I can guarantee you all salvation, set free all the sad little humans from this tower, for that is what you hope for. You will pray that I will spare your scrawny pet and the boy who wishes to be your lover, as well, spare them their pain, humiliation, and even death. Yes. I can promise all of that. However, know that dealing with one of the Three, you should curry favor and not cause resentment. I am ancient, girl, and have made and broken many ruthless slaves before, even centuries after fulfilling pacts with them. Perhaps you will go free with all you wish for. Perhaps, one day, I shall remember your arrogance this very night and hear willowy voices call for revenge, for I am petty and resentful and a great lover of tragedy. Perhaps you shall have a child by that time, and I will take her? I am cruel, and so you shall suffer eventually, should you insult a First Born, one that is above queens and just shy of gods. Instead, be my … friend, Shannon, and demand little. Those who demand the Devourer for favors often end up unhappy; their souls broken, just like a ship’s keel in a storm. We have a deal and do not ask for more.’

  I looked away, swallowing my disappointment. ‘So, mistress. I shall demand little and learn? And cannot free my … friends?’

  ‘You have a sister. Nevertheless, I see you never had friends before, and so you suffer, even if they are using you. Beware of them. Make new friends later, human girl. What you have now and what we have agreed on suffices. You shall learn of the families of the continent. The others will continue their training. They will train hard. They should if they wish to survive the bout next year, especially if you and Dana are free.’ She rose to stand, her muscled legs glistening in the torchlight.

  ‘You will not consider releasing them?’

  ‘I have a need for them.’

  ‘Money?’ I asked her scornfully.

  She leaned over me. ‘Much has to be risked in life, Shannon, for friends. But I said I have a need for them so be quiet now. You lot will rest a week, enjoy your life, and relax, all of you. You will have some freedom from the training and the pains and ails of the Fanged Spire and the demands of my house, but after this, you have a grander purpose, my precious student. Remember your place, and do not threaten me.’

  ‘Is there anything,’ I said morosely, ‘that can threaten you?’ I stared at
her intently, hoping to be rewarded.

  I was. Her eyes wandered to the bookcase. Just for a moment, but they did. Able saw it, his eyes running over the bookcase.

  She laughed. ‘Few things, Shannon. Very few. None you shall learn of.’

  She disappeared, and I flinched as she appeared behind me. She held onto my arms, and I whimpered and prepared to feel her fangs, but did not. She jerked, and I plummeted back through the portal.

  I fell on my bed, Cherry moving reluctantly as I bumped heavily on it. She was growling, giving me room, and I stared at the ceiling, casting glances at Dana. Thus we lay, looking at each other that night. She smiled, and I smiled back, knowing I had left our shared path. She was my sister and I loved her, but I would do what was right. It was a lonely feeling.

  ‘Are we still on?’ she whispered.

  ‘She still trusts me,’ I told her.

  After she had fallen asleep, I turned to stare at the ceiling.

  I was terrified.

  I would die of Rot, even if I succeeded in our plans. Even if Able found a way to help us. Was there any way to force her to heal me? Euryale had not denied there were things that could threaten even her. Gods?

  Could a god heal me?

  Hel?

  Should I get the Eye for her, perhaps? Without Euryale and after my friends were safe?

  She could, surely, remove the Rot.

  I stared at Dana, who expected me to obey the demon. However, I would not.

  For I did indeed have friends. But perhaps, I thought as I stared at Dana, I needed still more.

  I needed a goddess to help me. Only one was available.

  Goddess of the dead. She wanted her eye back.

  CHAPTER 17

  We rested for a week. They marched us through the town to a small river, a beautiful stream of glistening blue and green, and there we stayed, blissfully unaware of anything but the food and calm. To Cherry’s obvious annoyance Lex stayed with me, and I sat there, in a silken tent wondering about the future. I occasionally ventured out to swim with Albine and to fish with Dmitri, who did not blame me for Alexei. I walked the trees to speak with the birds, strange, colorful, and happy, and I envied them.

  In a week, it was over, and we walked back to the tower, our new rooms.

  And every morning, the training commenced. They would resolutely take the others down to the training hall, where they spent much of the day gathering power. They were taught other offensive spells, ones more delicate and subtle. Albine nearly died as they taught the Tears the spells, and Ulrich had a splitting headache that made him near comatose for a few days. We spied a body being dragged in the hallways, one of the other saa’dark. He had died of the teaching. Yet, learn they did, the Tears. They learnt to weave whips of flame, to use the spells while blindfolded, to run and to be hurt while holding onto the power, releasing portions of it and then weaving new ones on the fly, and they became deadly, or so Dana claimed. In the evenings, I played rug ball with Dmitri and half-hearted Albine and Anja until Nox provided us food. His spells were gentle, and the result a bit better the than the slop we had endured that first year, his fingers summoning meat and bread. And occasionally, wine, although we believe that was his own contribution to our fare, for his eyes glinted mischievously.

  As for me, when they were taken out each morning, I stayed behind.

  I waited each morning for a curiously long time before I was summoned, and I no longer traveled with Euryale’s spell but walked the steps, escorted by a young gorgon with bizarrely innocent eyes. I was passing many strange doors of the tower, some silvery and in good repair, then others ruined and abandoned. It was a terribly long climb, and I was always exhausted as the strange gorgon showed me the door to Euryale’s abode, an onyx-plated door full of twisting serpents carved on its surface. Inside her lavish, strangely gothic apartment she was often busy with whatever she was doing at a desk near the covered window and the mirror. I was guided to a table in the far corner of the circular hall and told to sit down in front of a hulking wall of tomes.

  Euryale would come and sit near me, staring over my shoulder.

  And Able was there, hovering miserably. He dared not speak, though Euryale would not have heard him. But his eyes ventured up to the bookcase, and there were so many. He shrugged, and I despaired. He pointed at one spot in the bookcase, looking uncertain, but there was a thick blue tome there and whatever he had found was behind it.

  I had no chance to rummage in the bookcase.

  Instead, I had other books.

  On the desk, there were but three tomes. One of them was with filled maps. A great many maps. So many maps I could only wonder at them, old as time. In that book, I found the Grey Downs, running my finger the length of it in the middle of a wildly strange bay. Timmerion was a faded name on the island, once an apparent paradise and my finger traced the map to the west. Around the Grey Downs were the waters of the Dancing Bay, and so I stared at the vast land stretching around us to the west. My finger ran across to the northwest from the Grey Downs, ending up in a gilded hall of great majesty, and that must have been Freyr’s Seat, the hold of Almheir Bardagoon, the Regent of the land. Or was it? I gazed at the faded letters; I stared at that northern shore, where the land rose, perhaps, majestically above other lands, a cliff area for a god to gaze over his dominions. There sat an old city, Ljusalfheim, with a dull, iron crown painted on top of it. Yes, it was the Freyr’s Seat. To the south of it, four great elven nations rose, each perched on the shores of the Bay and separated by rivers and forests. Great woods and ponderous mountain ranges separated the land of Ljusalfheim, a land of lush fields and numerous people and the land of rivers, those of House Safiroon, lords of Himinborg, Heimdall’s Hold. Together they comprised Freyr’s Tooth, an island or a continent, as Euryale called it.

  Then to the south of Himinborg, a vast continent, like a green, jeweled coat dotted with what I took to be rivers and counties and cities. Other nations, houses were scattered around it, an enormous one to the very south, bordered by vast mountains, the dominion of Houser Daxamma. To the coast, House Coinar and more modest ones, but likely rich in holdings. Then Trad and the House Vautan, just across a strait from Himinborg. There were ancient maps of the east and south as well, so old few of Aldheim indeed knew about the distant lands and times. I had no idea how large the continent to the west was, but whatever its size, it was sure to be wondrous.

  ‘It is beautiful, though there are different kinds of beauty all across the Nine,’ Euryale said behind me, and I froze. ‘My home of Niflheim is cold and brutal, where strength and wits are what you need to survive, but you must be very lucky, as well. In our lands, few weaklings survive. Maa’dark are the rulers there, as well, for the giants know spells of Fury and Gift both. They have taken men to serve their many needs in those lands also. Ah, the glaciers and the ice-filled valleys. Like diamonds by millions.’

  ‘It must be wondrous, mistress,’ I told her hollowly. ‘I am surprised you appreciate beauty. You have usually only spoken about the thrill of hunting for blood and your lust for murder.’

  ‘Yes, human girl, yes, but we appreciate the beauty of the hunt like the beauty of the wealthy lands, the riches and slaves they bring. Beauty is what makes any realm worth coveting and conquering,’ she told me, laying her warm hand on my shoulder. ‘Get to know the lands. Know, there will be a great war in those areas soon.’

  ‘War?’ I asked timidly.

  ‘War, yes,’ she answered.

  ‘Why do they fight?’ I asked, fingering the map, feeling her close presence, terrified of her touch.

  ‘In general or soon? It’s the same answer, I suppose,’ she said languidly. ‘The south is overly religious,’ she sneered. ‘The south thinks the Regent is not doing all within its power to recall the gods. They are likely right, for who would want a master to return when you sleep in his bed? The north thinks the Coinar and Daxamma and the houses supporting them are after power, not gods. All of them claim to do all w
ithin their power to recall the gods. So far, Houses Safiroon, Bardagoon, and Vautan are allied and have like mind, their hundreds of minor houses support them, intermarrying to keep the south at bay. I think,’ she whispered, and leaned on me, ‘that the elves are just plain bored. They enjoy the game of houses and the Race and the Feast of Fates. They love war and glory, and all the elven maa’dark compete in rank. Almheir is the First Light currently, all the way down to the least maa’dark.’

  ‘What light am I?’ I wondered.

  She hesitated. ‘In some way, the second? That is customary.’

  ‘The second light of Aldheim,’ I mused, ‘and a helpless little mouse.’

  She giggled. ‘Indeed. They also raid the east. What they cannot do freely at home, they do in the east and south, wage wars against the people of the Wild’s Coast especially. One led an army against us, some years past. It was interesting. But not dangerous.’ She grinned. ‘I punished the impudent Safiroon Lord, who was after something I took. I think I mentioned this before.’

  ‘Are there any spells to create, perhaps of the Gift you know of?’ I asked, for, like Albine, I yearned for beauty and utility rather than destruction.

  ‘Ah, you desire calm rather than to hear of the ferocious elves. You desire fulfillment of the soul. You humans were all created to admire what the gods loved, and so you wish arts. Yes, there are spells that allow one to create wondrous things, and I know many. Here, let me show you.’

  She harnessed the power, and I felt the roar of fires as she wove a spell of flames, and I was tempted to tamper with it, but could not, for the Fetter was shutting me off. Then, I was startled as some of the spell she released touched me. I felt it, like a cat licking my skin. Nothing happened, though, until after some time, tiny men and women grew from the desk, fiery and gentle, like a candle's flame, they were dancing to the flute, the sound haunting and old. Some were large, muscular, others slender and delicate. ‘Your ancestors, before they left this island for the Tenth, your Earth after the greedy elven adventures. Thus they danced, the workers and brutes, the seers, and the leaders, not knowing their fates. It’s a memory blaze, one to celebrate old times. Perhaps some were your ancestors. This is your memory, Shannon, torn from your being.’