A Hero's throne tae-2

by Ross Lawhead

  The car slowed and stopped before the door of the great state building. Ealdstan allowed the driver to circle the car and open his door for him. Already a group was forming in the doorway to meet him. He involuntarily bristled at the sight and then masked his rude gesture by shrugging deeper into the large coat.

  “Welcome!” A slight man in a dark suit emerged from the pack. He was clean shaven and his hair was completely slicked back. He wore a wide smile and opened his arms as if Ealdstan were a dear friend he hadn’t seen in years. He walked with an awkward, heavy limp, which he tried very hard to hide. “Welcome, my friend. Please, come inside. How was your journey? I trust everything was smooth.”

  Ealdstan mounted the steps and crossed the threshold of the building. There was a great bustle, even this late in the night, as people moved folders, furniture, and themselves through the halls and corridors. “You’ll forgive the disorder. We only received offices yesterday, and much as we would like, reorganization does

  not happen instantly. A large animal cannot turn immediately. Du!” he called suddenly. “Du! Warte mal! You will excuse me,” the industrious man said and walked off to bark orders at some workmen who were hefting a very large desk across the hallway.

  Feeling uncomfortable under the harsh indoor lights, Ealdstan stood alone, watching the people in the building dart to and fro.

  “I am so sorry, sir,” the man said, returning. “Please, come this way.” He ushered Ealdstan into a large room off the main corridor that was oddly devoid of people. Then he shouted across the hall to a couple of men in brown shirts and trousers to stand outside the door and make sure that they were not disturbed.

  “As I say, everything is disordered. I myself do not even have an official position yet-I just pitch in with whatever needs to be done, for the moment, and that seems to be everything. This will pass, this will pass. All that you see here-it is not confusion, it is reordering-a right ordering!” He crossed the room and closed the windows as Ealdstan stood just a few paces from the door.

  “It is both exhilarating and exhausting at the same time.” The unofficial official lowered himself into a plush, ornately constructed chair. “Please, take a seat.”

  “I will stand,” Ealdstan declared.

  “Then I will stand also,” the other said and rose to his feet again. “And I will come directly to business. When we found we had opportunity to contact you, as you well know, we wasted not a moment. Until our man met you, we had no idea that the legends were true; we are simply beside ourselves with excitement over this most historic moment. Our leader himself will be here shortly to pay due honour to your person, but he has instructed me to act and speak on his behalf until that time. I was also instructed to present you with this.”

  He went back over to the chair and picked up a long box that lay on a side table. He came back and held it out to Ealdstan.

  “It is a sword manufactured in this land, made by Eickhorn, in Solingen, the best weapon-smith in the world. I would like to present it to you, on behalf of the German people, as a symbol of our shared goals and ambitions.”

  Ealdstan reached out for it with both hands, tilting his staff against his shoulder. He opened the box to reveal a sword with a slightly curved blade, sheathed, with a hilt that was modelled with a gilt lion’s head pommel, the mouth of which bit the handguard that bent around to meet it.

  “Those are rubies in the eyes, not glass. And the crossguard has been altered to include the swastika. That is our emblem. It has been selected and designed by our leader himself, as the symbol of our movement that will sweep Europe and, one day, the rest of the world.”

  Ealdstan pulled back his great coat and tucked the sword into his belt, putting the box on the chair next to him.

  “But that’s not why you are here. You are here because of what we can do for each other.”

  “I do not know what I can give you.”

  “We do not want anything from you. That is not what I am asking. Men are not a concern. We have men. In time, we will give you men. All we ask of you, for now, is for you to consult for us.”

  “Consult?” Ealdstan tightened his grip around his staff.

  “We are building an empire. We have never done this before. You have been doing it, in secret, for centuries. We want you to help us. We know of your work. Our leader is a great student of legend and ancient history-of the forgotten times that are remembered only in stories. A time of dignity, when men not only lived with purity and honour but also fought for it. When the righteous stood tall, and the corruption of dishonourable men did not touch them. That is the golden age that the legends speak of. Those times that you have seen leave-as the faithful left, one by one, only to be replaced by the faithless. Did you think those times would never return?”

  Ealdstan wrung his hands around his staff.

  “Those days will come again, my friend,” said the man, smiling, knowing he was drawing Ealdstan in. “You have the knowledge, and the people of Germany have the will. With your help, who could stand against us?”

  Ealdstan nodded and stroked his beard. “I would dearly love, more than anything else, to see that world come,” he said. “I would very much enjoy further discussion.”

  There was a knock at the door, and it was opened by one of the brown-shirted youths. A man stepped through who did not wait to be announced, nor for permission to enter.

  “Ah, here is our leader now!” The slight man’s face beamed. “Archchancellor! You have made very good time.”

  “For this, I make time. So, you are the wise Ealdstan, I presume. It is good to meet you. This is a meeting that will be recorded in the legends of the future. I hope Herr Goebbels has been showing you every hospitality.”

  III

  Ni?ergeard

  13 February 1948 AD

  Frithfroth knocked on the door of Ealdstan’s study. He waited a moment and got no reply, as expected. He put a hand on the metal door loop and pushed it open a few inches.

  “My lord?”

  Ealdstan was at his desk, writing in a small book.

  “My lord, the lifiendes are ready to depart.”

  “In a moment,” Ealdstan said and dipped his pen in the ink bottle.

  “Wysfaeder, if you will permit me. . Is it right?”

  All that Frithfroth received as an answer was the scratch of pen on vellum.

  “I don’t mean is it right that they aid you in this-aid us in this way, but is it right that we make the task so much more difficult? The heart could be brought here, with no difficulty, and any one of them could perform the task.”

  More scratching.

  “It’s only. . that this is the third group of lifiendes that have managed to find their way here-no easy task in itself. I am told that on the way they ran afoul of the usual perils. Surely that is test enough?”

  Scratching, more scratching.

  Frithfroth resigned himself to getting no response from the ruler of Ni?ergeard. He was leaving the room backward, intending to pull the door behind him, when Ealdstan pushed the book away from him, leaving it open on the top of the desk and wiping his pen on a piece of cloth.

  “There are mechanisms and circles in movement of which none in this world but I have any knowledge,” Ealdstan said. “To fall down a hole in a cave is hardly proof enough for what will be demanded of them in the future.”

  Frithfroth deferentially accepted this statement and made to leave again. “But, wise Ealdstan,” he said, changing his mind, “must the cost for them be so high? When the bodies of the last two were discovered, it fair broke the hearts of those that found them. Many of them left here and renounced their immortality at that very instant. Others, sometime later.”

  Frithfroth chewed his lip. He had said this much, why not say all? “These latest trials are not just trials for the lifiendes, but also trials for Ni?ergeard. I have never seen spirit so low.”

  “I am not oblivious to the moods of the city that I created. Threat with no real danger is no te
st at all. In the perspective of all the centuries, the passing of a few young lights is of little matter. All pass-one day you and I shall. The dead are happier dead. Mourn not for them. The sacrifice they are making is as the first few drops of a torrential downpour.”

  Frithfroth nodded. “Just so. As I said, the lifiendes are now ready to depart.” With that, he closed the door completely and made his way back down to the courtyard under the Great Carnyx. Godmund and Modwyn were there, along with the four lifiendes and their escort.

  “Ealdstan will join us shortly,” Frithfroth reported.

  “I should jolly well expect him to,” said the youngest girl, who stood in her new, dyed leather riding dress. She awkwardly held an ash wood spear in her hand. “It’s our ruddy necks that we’re risking to save his!”

  “Language, Sarah!” chastened Molly, her sister and one of the younger two of the four Trevellian cousins.

  Sarah gave her head a flick to keep her long hair in check-a habit that Frithfroth had become accustomed to seeing. He had spent the last couple weeks with the children, showing them around the city and the tower. He had bonded with them; the others were either jaded at the long line of failures, or else too afraid to become close to the sacrificial lambs.

  “He will take his own time about his own business. I am sure he knows better than we what lies ahead of us.” Molly was mousy and apologetic, the opposite of her loud and strong-willed sister. She was the peacemaker of the group, sensitive and always appeasing.

  “That is true, young lifiend,” said??elwulf, the knight they had awoken and who was to accompany them on their quest. “More than you could know.”

  Frithfroth shot him a ferocious look. Don’t say too much, the look said.

  “Mister Frithfroth, sir.” The youngest of all the cousins, Theodore-or “Teddy” as he was called by the others-meekly approached. He wore a dagger and a mail shirt that had been altered for his small stature. He looked absurd, and Frithfroth’s heart nearly broke for him. He was almost too young to have a real personality of his own, except that he was intensely sensitive and caring, with no hardened areas of his character.

  “Mister Frithfroth-what does that mean?” He pointed to the Carnyx. “‘Blow this horn and summon the next army’? What is the next army?”

  “Why, it refers to all the knights who sleep beneath Britain’s soil.”

  “No, that’s the old army. Who is the next army?”

  Frithfroth looked up quizzically and caught Godmund’s eye. The grizzled warrior just shrugged.

  “But they are not an army yet. They are just separate warriors, all taken from different points in this nation’s history. They are not yet an army, but when they arise, they will be.”

  Teddy frowned and walked back to join the others.

  He is eight years old, Frithfroth thought. He tried to think back to the time when eight years was all the time that he knew on this earth. Now, eight years was no more time to him than a fortnight had once been.

  A clap of thunder shivered the silence and a wisp of smoke twisted from the ground, dispersing into the stale air to reveal Ealdstan. The children were awed, which was naturally the only reason for the act. They leaned in toward each other, all of them trying to put on a brave face.

  The aging wizard brought his staff down on the ground three times, pounding the rock beneath his feet violently.

  May the Hand that Makes guide your hearts,

  May the Light that Illumines shine on your path,

  And the One that Goes Between aid your steps.

  “Paul Trevellian, approach,” the wizard said.

  Swallowing hard and shaking visibly-but nonetheless endeavouring to hold his head up high with strong, British reserve-Paul left the small pack. He was not the oldest of the group-Sarah was-but he assumed the most responsibility. He was rather bright, but this characteristic was often hampered by his sense of duty-he tended to do what was expected of him, even if that was at odds with his own or his companion’s best interests.

  Ealdstan towered over him, his face dark. Has he used an altering enchantment? Frithfroth wondered. Is he trying to terrify the lad? Has he no heart?

  Reaching into the folds of his red robe, Ealdstan pulled out a knife in a leather sheath.

  “This blade has many enchantments on it-it is made of stone and is the only weapon that should be used to destroy Gad’s heart. If you are to free this land from his poisonous clutches and wish to return to your home, strike well and strike true. And remember, when in doubt, follow the water.”

  Paul accepted the knife and bowed low. “I will do my best to not let you down, O wisest of all rulers,” he said, straightening. And then he bowed again and returned, walking backward, to his cousins.

  Ealdstan glared at them and then pounded his staff three more times, and in another wisp of smoke, he was gone.

  “Come along, lifiendes,” the knight??elwulf said. “Our journey is a long one, and best started soon.”

  Farewells were said. Frithfroth saw tears in Molly’s eyes. They entered the squat fortress that protected the Great Carnyx and those remaining waited until they heard the heavy stone doors within the building close before they left.

  Walking back to the tower, Frithfroth prayed that they had not just sent more children to their deaths-that these would be the ones who finally completed this perverse quest.

  IV

  “That’s it,” Vivienne said. “That’s the last journal.” She waited quietly while Freya got her head together.

  “I’m hungry,” she said, helping herself to water and snacking on some of the dried meat from the kitchen. As she did so, Vivienne tidied the table of all the books and documents from their last session. She did a comprehensive job and the rooms were pretty much as they’d first found them.

  “I’m glad. I’m tired of-I’m actually tired of being tired.” She yawned. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. We’ve been cooped up in here long enough.” Vivienne stood and stretched.

  “What about Daniel?” Freya sighed. “Any word or sign of him? As though you care?”

  “That’s rather unfair.”

  “Forgive me for saying it, Vivienne, but you seem very blase about all of this.”

  Vivienne shrugged on her coat. “When you get to my age, you either risk everything or you risk nothing. I’m sorry if you find me cold. But in the scheme of things, I find I’m most effective if I try only to affect the things that I can control, and leave the things that I can’t to play out by themselves.”

  “Great. Well, Daniel’s certainly out, since no one can seem to control him. But shouldn’t we. . look for him? Possibly?”

  “Yes. Certainly. We certainly should go looking for him. Shall we go now?”

  “Um, before we go down, there’s one more room to see. We should check that out, if we’re going to be thorough.”

  “Really? You’re happy leaving Daniel out wherever he is?”

  Freya glared at her. “Now you’re being unfair. You know what’s in that room, and I want to know as well.” Freya packed the bedroll up and crammed the few items she had taken out back into her backpack.

  “Well, let’s go if you’re going, then,” Vivienne said in an inscrutable tone.

  They went up the stairs in silence. Vivienne walking behind Freya, who soon wished Vivienne led the way.

  They found the door and stood in front of it in silence for a few moments. Freya looked back at Vivienne. “Anything you want to say?”

  Vivienne shook her head, and Freya pushed the door open.

  It was a bedroom. It was not luxuriant but comfortable, with some pieces of wrought iron furniture and a golden light fixture just like the one in the other room. Against the far wall were stacks of the enchanted silver lamps, which cumulatively gave the room a sort of holy glow. The only other objects in the room were a bedstead with a thin mattress, some clean linen sheets-and a body.

  “It’s Modwyn,” Freya said, inching closer to the bed. The ward o
f Ni?ergeard was stretched out on the bed, on top of the sheets, in her magnificent green robes that Freya had last seen her in, all smooth and perfect, her hair falling gently around her shoulders, curling and rising like waves upon a steep shore. “You knew she was here all the time.”

  “She’s dead. It doesn’t change anything.”

  “Really?”

  “It-it wouldn’t have changed anything if you knew.”

  “Really.” Modwyn’s posture reminded Freya of illustrations of Sleeping Beauty in the picture books she had as a child. Her arms crossed over her chest and she seemed to be holding something.

  Freya edged even closer, half-expecting Modwyn to suddenly wake up and startle her. But she didn’t, and as Freya came closer, she realised, with dread, that she wouldn’t, ever, for clutched in Modwyn’s hands was the hilt of a knife. She’d plunged the blade into her own chest. A wave of anger rose and broke inside Freya. So that was it then. Modwyn had been so distraught at the invasion of Ni?ergeard that she had taken her own life, leaving all others to cope without her-abandoning the living. What a selfish tragedy.

  “It was her final sacrifice,” a voice from the door said, making the two women jump. She turned and saw Frithfroth standing there, looking even more diminished and forlorn than ever. “It was not selfishness or fear that forced her into that act. In that act, she protected the tower from invasion. She saved the Carnyx, she saved Ni?ergeard.”

  Freya turned back to the prone form of Ni?ergeard’s protectress. Not a part of her was decrepit or decaying. She really did look as if she were only sleeping.

  “I come up and minister to her,” Frithfroth said. “I pay my respects and remember her and thank her for saving me. It was her last act-a loving one.”

  “She’s dead, Frithfroth,” Freya said. “She’s just dead. She killed herself so she wouldn’t have to face the horror of being killed. She took the easy way out.”