‘Yes, I understand,’ I told her reverently, the intense, shadowed glare painful as I looked deep into her eyes.
‘And that, Shannon, might mean you will have to be like us. Like our brood,’ she mused as she rocked on her heels. ‘With different … morals than those of your kin. You will be like us.’
‘Like Bilac and Cosia, you mean?’ I asked her, wondering about their origins.
‘No, not like them. They are from the darkness of Nifleheim’s caves, lesser than we are, clans of warriors only, and you will never change to a demi-gorgon. But what I do mean is that you will be driven by a bloody purpose. It might mean you will be a slayer rather than a lover for that is what we are. We strive for …’
‘Power,’ I added, and she nodded curiously.
‘That, and chaos and glory. Riches and fulfillment. When the time ends, the gods will measure the deeds one has performed. We intend to rest high on the scales of glory in the Midhall and be shown our places in the afterworlds of the time beyond, rulers of many. To do this, we have much to accomplish. We love the thrill of a hunt, a pure pleasure of murder and a grand war of conquest as you said, and we will do so in the future. If you stay with us and serve us, this is what you will serve to our enemies.’
‘Yes, mistress, that sounds acceptable, perhaps even pleasing to me, though still beyond my powers,’ I said, feeling her voice’s seductive thrum move me in ways I did not think possible. I tried to deny it, but there was the desire deep inside me, hidden perhaps, but not unseen, one to let go of the weak, human values I knew were hampering me. There was a drop of Dana inside me, I thought. With Euryale and Stheno, there might be absolution from my fears in ways I never suspected. I pushed the thought away.
‘I see,’ she said with some amusement. ‘I saw it in you, I think. There is a very dark side to you, hidden, but there nonetheless, like there is to your sister, with whom it is more obvious. I am happy we had this discussion, Shannon. We shall see. Many things will be asked of us soon enough.’
‘I only wish to find a purpose that suits me,’ I told her huskily. ‘Yours is likely a worthy one.’
‘You do not yet know what our purpose is. Nor do we. Did I not tell you we are perilous and chaotic?’ she smiled. ‘Come.’ She raised me up and led me to my study, and she sat me down. ‘Read of Cerunnos Timmerion, who once held Grey Downs.’ Her fingers flipped open a gray tome full of history. ‘Read, for you will meet him. Here. He was Odin’s appointed Lord and held this island in Hel’s war against the hordes of foes. It was ripped apart, his family destroyed, his daughters, mighty Yrenia, and Araste falling ahead of his household armies right here. I killed both, but that’s another story.’
‘A mighty endeavor, slaying high elven nobles,’ I agreed with horrified awe. ‘Didn’t Hel’s armies attack this place, not …’
‘It’s a long story,’ she said with a fond smile. ‘They knew a hundred spells, the fine ladies,’ she said, pleased with the memory. ‘I knew more. And I have a secret.’
‘A secret I shall not ask about,’ I giggled and laughed with her, feeling foolish.
‘Good, right, child,’ she agreed. ‘A wise policy. The Fanged Spire holds many not meant for you.’
The Fanged Spire. My eyes glanced at the book glowing on the desk, now gathered in some dust for it had been exposed for a month.
She hesitated next to me. And then she left and went to stand far from me, near the mirror where she sat down to write, leaving me alone for the first time.
‘What, mistress, is the seat of Bardagoon like? Ljusalfheim.’
She described the halls of the north. ‘Golden, much of which was delved in the Underworld and some even in your land. They covet gold, they eat it with their eyes, loving its sheen. They yearn for it with all their heart. Imagine mighty pillars of golden and silvery radiance, finest details everywhere, the industrious smiths ever at work, adding to the porticoes, the walls, and the floors, the seats and the shelves. Rich, richer by war, I doubt Freyr would recognize the elegant hall he built. It is much the same in all the capitals of the Dancing Bay and the Spell Coast.’
‘Do you covet it?’ I asked carefully. ‘Gold. You said you did, for the measure of success it gives you.’
She licked her lips. ‘Gold, silver. Wealth is powerful, in many ways more so than the maa’dark, Shannon. Even in here. In Asgaard, yes, as well. All the creation covets it, humans not the least,’ she smiled. ‘One day, we shall sit on a pile of skulls, covered in gold and silver. One must measure one’s success in the great game, Shannon, and gold and silver, platinum, and even jewels are a fine way to do so.’
‘We’ll have to move. This tower won’t accommodate all of it.’ I smiled, and she laughed heartily.
‘Indeed, indeed so!’ she agreed with a smile under her hood. ‘Read.’
And so I studied while eyeing the slightly glowing book gathering dust. I read of Grimhold of the south with ebony towers of leaning rocks. There were wondrous stories of Bellow Hold, the house Simmiron’s home with golden woods full of larks and its High Harbor of mighty fleets and merchants. Dragon’s Maw was the sibilant pass full of piled skulls separating Ljusalfheim from the south.
‘Ask her of dragons,’ Able whispered in my ear, and I nearly shrieked, for I had not seen him.
‘Why?’ I asked him so very softly.
‘I think of dragons all the time,’ he explained. ‘I think it’s …’
‘Are there any goblins or dragons? Giants? In Aldheim?’ I asked as I skimmed the book in front of me.
She stopped her writing.
‘Dragons?’ she inquired sweetly. ‘There are plenty of strange creatures all over this world, Shannon, but most are in hiding. After Hel’s war, the elves and men tried to purge all their foes from the world. I do not know, sadly, what took place in Midgard or Jotunheim, for example. Do you yearn to see a dragon?’ she grinned. ‘I would not advise it.’
‘Really? Are they like the stories say? Rumbling, huge, carnivorous? Dreadful and brutal?’
‘They are … difficult,’ she said. ‘Yours are in hiding, in the Tenth.’
‘We don’t have any! Certainly not?’ I asked.
She laughed with a knowing voice. ‘Indeed. Indeed so. You think you know your entire world so well, so very well. You are but infants.’
‘They love treasure, don’t they?’ I asked.
‘They covet it like any other creature of power,’ she agreed. ‘They are older than us, First Born to the elders even and perhaps as old as the gods. You do not wish to learn of them. No.’
‘Yes, mistress,’ I said and gazed at Able, who smiled weakly. His eyes wandered to the glowing book. ‘When,’ I asked, ‘is this Feast held? Where the elves gather.’
‘It is held in a week, Shannon,’ she said happily if nervously.
‘A week?’ I asked rather weakly, for that meant I would have to act.
‘One week,’ she affirmed. ‘I shall keep a close eye on anything that might change during the time. Do not worry and be ready. Read all you can today, brave human girl. Tomorrow, I shall be gone for the time and this is our last day.’
With that, she began to write again.
I stared at her back and noticed Nox sauntering in the room, the vast tomte near unseen in the shadows. He hefted a flask of oil for some lamps and filled them, and left the oil on the corner. He noticed me staring and flashed me a wide, wrinkled, toothy smile. His eyes went to the glowing book and then at me, an unreadable expression on his face.
He wanted freedom as well.
I cursed my timidity. I would have to act. I shrugged and read and enjoyed a moment of solitude, even if I noticed Able’s ghost lurking in the shadows, nosing at things he likely should not. Now that I knew what he was, I felt somewhat uneasy about him, his dark, dead face strange and sinister, but I did flash him a smile when he was looking. I saw the terrible gorgon was meditating on some problem, leaning over a desk, her pen quivering in the air. Her head was swinging as she cont
emplated some harsh choice, and I shook in terror at what I thought I would do. I flexed my hand, got up slowly, reached out and grasped the book of glowing covers ever so slowly, glancing at Euryale, who was still deep in her thoughts.
But clumsily I dropped the book.
Nox appeared and grabbed it. He glowered at me, left it on the desk away from me and disappeared in a blink.
I shook in terror for a moment, cursing myself profusely. Then I grasped the book, fearing a flash of searing, burning light but instead, the glowing book made of skin was light as a feather, soft as silk and cool as a winter’s kiss. I pulled at it, trying so very silently to open it up. I was sure to die. Or someone else at least. My hands shook, and I forced myself to think happy thoughts. I didn’t find any, even Lex’s happy face brought fear, for I was going to fail, I was sure of it, and they would suffer. The book moved as I pulled at it with my finger, light and cold to the touch, it came towards me, moving under my hand, slowly, but resolutely. Then the chair creaked as I was straining myself. I froze.
Nothing.
I nearly screamed in fear and noticed Able gesturing for me to calm down, eyeing Euryale. I turned my face that way and saw she was no longer writing, but staring past me, far, very deep in her thoughts. I moved the book in front of me. Able was whispering urgently at me. ‘Act cool. She needs you. Remember that if you get caught. And I like your new bedside manner with her,’ he grinned. ‘She swallowed it whole.’
‘Ass licking is a skill I find hard to learn,’ I whispered.
Able blanched, and I turned again. Euryale was staring at me. ‘What did you say?’
I licked my lips, leaning on the book. ‘I said; grass digging is a thrill hard to enjoy. Despite that, I think the elves could do some of it, farming instead of waging wars and plotting.’
‘They do not touch the dirt, girl,’ she agreed with a shake of the head. ‘Never will.’
‘They would if they were starving,’ I mumbled and heard her snicker.
I let her mull over her thoughts and stared at the cover. The fair luminance of the dreadful, leather and stitched skin cover was sort of hazy, bright at one point, then at another. I let my thumb fly over the leather, feeling the fringes and imperfections of it, perhaps made so by age or wounds of the persons whose skin had been used for it. The lid was closed, happily, but the eyelashes looked strangely fine, and I shuddered as I touched the pages. I opened the book. Inside it, words were dancing across the brittle, yellowed page, though just briefly.
Then, nothing. The page was empty.
I turned the next one, also empty. Then another. I skimmed the book, and it was all blank.
‘The hell,’ I sniffled very softly, and Able was shrugging.
‘Sorry, it was hidden, so I thought it might be hugely important. You asked for a glowing book, didn’t you?’ he told me morosely. ‘It’s a blank one. It looked promising, but it’s just useless. A month is gone! Useless thing. Like I am!’
‘Nothing. Nothing about the tower?’ I complained so very softly, yet bitterly. ‘Nothing useful indeed. Useless.’
Able shrugged, nervous. ‘I found it. It must have something useful.’
‘You found it by accident,’ I hissed. ‘And I helped you, remember?’
‘Still found it! Ask it questions,’ he urged. ‘It’s magical.’
‘Questions?’ I scoffed.
‘Ask about the Fetters,’ he said impatiently.
I sighed so softly, like a breath of a ghost. ‘Might as well ask about dragons. Are there any? No? See …’
Then, the book responded.
The pages filled with information. There was so much information I could not keep up with the text as it scuttled across the pages. Able smiled like an imp, and I stared at the pages. The gorgeous script spoke of the ancient dragons, Memerrix the Grand, Agornator the Golden. I read of their history and cities, lands far and near the great dragons had sacked once. I thumbed page after page of the dragon lore, wondering at it and the book. I was whispering as softly as I could. ‘It’s magical all right. Probably can answer anything, no? Or is it just the history of the Fanged Spire? Or Grey Downs?’
‘It’s more,’ Able said. ‘Yet, the island is famous. See, many visited it at one point. Usually to wreak havoc. There, Agornator attacked it once and left after razing parts of the city.’
‘During Hel’s war? Would make sense,’ I whispered.
‘Did she write it?’ Able asked. I turned to look at Euryale, hunched over an ancient scroll.
‘Not sure,’ I said softly, my hands running across the pages. ‘More dragons?’ I asked it, and it replied. Nidhogg, the deadly serpent was often mentioned in a very attractive, overly ornate page, the mighty dragon and a foe of the balance, striving to topple the gods, even to snuff out the Shades itself. I nearly forgot about Euryale, utterly fascinated by the book, and then I despaired as I skimmed the pages.
Able nodded in agreement. ‘This does not help us, though,’ he sniffled.
‘Unless …’ I thought, ‘there is one nearby.’
‘One what?’
‘A dragon,’ I whispered.
‘I think we would know if an eradicator of life was around,’ he smiled. ‘They are enormous.’
‘There are no pictures of them here,’ I told him very softly. ‘They might be small, in fact.’
‘I dreamt of one. I saw a maw. A huge maw. It ate you. And what use would we have of a dragon?’ he wondered.
‘She told me not to think about them. It would surely be stronger than she is,’ I ventured, as I made a barely audible whisper to Able. ‘Perhaps there is a spell to summon one? I’m worth a lot. It could sell me for gold to the elves and slay this beast, and let the rest of you go.’
‘Great plan,’ he rumbled. ‘Perhaps it would slaughter the lot for sport? And selling you to the elves puts you exactly where you don’t …’
‘I have to go to them anyway,’ I told him. ‘I will need to attempt the deed she asked for me to perform, so I can treat with the goddess for my life.’ Euryale began singing and soon the song was thrumming through the air, soft and vibrant at the same time.
We sat still until I remembered to breathe again.
‘Ask then,’ he said dubiously.
‘Where is the closest dragon to Grey Downs?’ I asked, and the pages went blank. ‘Is there a dragon in the Fanged Spire?’ I asked and thought I had failed again, but then the text began running again, filling the page.
‘In Grey Downs,’ I breathed, ‘there is a dragon. In the Fanged Spire, indeed. Below.’ The text spoke of a dragon called the Masked One. It was a dragon, near fallen in the war, terribly hurt, lost to its kindred. ‘A Pact he made, a thrall he became,’ it says. ‘That is Euryale’s secret?’
‘Below? Dungeons?’ Able said in wonderment. ‘I should go and see. We have a week.’
‘I know who to ask if you cannot find it, though I’m not sure he will tell me,’ I breathed softly, thinking about Nox. He had saved me and now let me skim the book. I glanced at Euryale, and she was still hunched over her table, now scribbling something furiously as her song had turned into a soft lament of loss and mourning. It made me stop for a moment and, staring at the monster, I wondered what her long history had done to her, how it had changed her? Surely she was a ferocious, dangerous beast, but perhaps she had smiled once for something that had been happy and pure and without malice.
‘You going to ask something else? What are the weaknesses of the gorgons, for example?’ Able interrupted my thoughts, but I shook my head furiously.
‘I dare not,’ I mouthed and closed the book, trying to find strength and courage to put the tome back. I shuddered and gazed at the hole in the bookcase from where the book had fallen. It was a hard, supreme effort to lift the book, sweating all over as I did, but then I put it back down.
I opened it with a small curse.
‘Can a gorgon be killed?’ I asked in the softest whisper. Text began sprawling on the pages.
> The book slammed closed.
The sound was so loud my ears rang. The eye opened up, a dark orb staring at me. ‘Mistress, say the passphrase,’ the book whispered, and I fell back to the seat. I turned but too late. Euryale had a hand on my shoulder.
‘Well, human girl, what is the passphrase?’ she asked laconically and then continued viciously. ‘Only some questions or commands are allowed without one, that is all. It’s my diary, after all, though it, like Nox, once belonged to another. I have not filled it for a while. And I wonder what you asked it about? Curious you are? Or treacherous?’ She placed the book on her palm, her eyes gazing at me intensely from under her hood. ‘I think the latter? Yes?’ she whispered. ‘I did not give this book to you. How is it in your suspicious little hands, my lovely friend?’
I gathered myself, knowing there was a fixed, terrified look on my face I could not shake off. She would punish me. She would punish the others. ‘It fell to the desk when you last fed on me. It was glowing, and I was intrigued. I asked about the dragons. I know you commanded me not to delve into the dragon lore, but there are legends of them on Earth, of the gigantic, terrifying things as you said, and the book was glowing, mesmerizing,’ I told her as casually as I could while trying to stifle the terrified shake in my leg. ‘I am sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ she asked softly. ‘You should be sorry. And I will see how sorry you are.’ She whispered to it, the lid closed and her eyes scoured the book. ‘Ah. Not very sorry, not sorry enough to speak the truth, at least. How to kill a gorgon? Our deal is thus changed.’ She touched the Shades and her hands flew to the air as she gathered power. I saw she grasped ice and wind, and my hands flew to the sides as I whirled painfully out of the seat to the floor. I could not move nor even twitch a muscle, and I spied Able’s infuriated, desperate face gawking at my pain. I spun in the air, going around and around, cursing bitterly as she grasped me by my hair and we flew to the doorway of shadows and darkness. We came to stand before the familiar speaking door, the one leading to the Timmerion’s War Hall. The door burst to life with a surprised shriek as if it had been napping on duty.
The Dark Levy: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Ten Tears Chronicles - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 1) Page 30