Bloodsong Hel X 3

by C. Dean Andersson

  She placed the shield on the ground, bundled onto it a pair of black leather breeches, boots, swordbelt and scabbard, and a steel battle-helm, then lifted the shield and carried it all back to the fire.

  Bloodsong sat the shield on the ground near the fire, checked the mail shirt, and found it now cool to the touch. She felt Grimnir’s gaze and looked up into his eyes for a long moment, then began to dress herself in the clothing of the Dead.

  “YOU are nor stupid, Guthrun,” Thokk fumed, “and you’re not a fool. Why do you insist upon acting like both?”

  Guthrun laughed. “You expect me to give allegiance to you and Hel after what your precious Lokith caused me to suffer? Nothing you can do to me could be worse than what I experienced with him. How long did you leave me there? Two days alone with him? Three? More?”

  “You are not harmed.”

  “Only because he healed me whenever I slipped too near death! He wants me dead. He wants you dead. We’re threats to his power.”

  “I am no threat to him. If not for me—”

  “And if not for me he would not be alive, or as alive as he can be. You don’t have to take my word. Probe his thoughts as you do mine. Learn the truth for yourself.”

  Thokk was silent.

  “You can probe his thoughts, can’t you?” There was still no response. “You can’t?” Guthrun suddenly understood. “You can’t. You can’t control him, either. He’s truly as much a threat to you as he is to me. What other powers does he have, Thokk? I know he can see in the dark and heal wounds. What other magic have you given him? Surely not everything you know. If that were true, even you would be helpless against him.”

  “Enough!” Thokk had been sitting in the chair in Guthrun’s room. Now she rose to her feet and glared down at the young woman sitting on the bed. Guthrun got to her feet, too, and glanced around the small room that had once again become her prison.

  “I don’t know what you had planned for Lokith and me, Thokk, but surely this small room from which you don’t dare let me go was not the goal you had for me. You’ve talked about my becoming a Hel-Witch. I refuse. I will always refuse. You’ve talked about dark powers waiting to be given freedom within me. I refuse to let that happen, too, though I’ve come to believe that they are probably indeed there. I’ve felt them stirring when I was near death in Lokith’s chamber.

  “And Lokith, Thokk? I assume that he was to have been my partner of sorts. Instead he wants both me and you dead. Surely not as you planned, either. Perhaps we two should begin to make new plans, Hel-Witch, plans to destroy Lokith before he can destroy us.”

  Thokk stared at the young woman. Guthrun was right about one thing at least. Things were not at all happening as planned, but they were far from out of her control, she felt certain. She had probed Guthrun’s thoughts, learned that Guthrun was not trying to trick her this time, did truly feel great fear of Lokith, really believed him a threat to them both. And Guthrun’s thoughts had also revealed the things he had done to the young woman, horrible, brutal things Thokk had not expected. His brutality had pushed Guthrun away from acceptance of Hel instead of toward it, had caused Guthrun to become once again as stubbornly resistant as when she’d first been captured. But in truth, she could not lay all the blame for Guthrun’s renewed resistance upon Lokith. There were also the memories in Guthrun’s mind of touching Bloodsong’s thoughts and drawing strength from them, a thing that never should have been able to happen within the confines of Thokk’s castle.

  Thokk paced a few steps, stopped, and came back to face Guthrun. The Hel-Witch felt her frustration rising, her self-control slipping, her thoughts not as clear as usual, anger with the situation defeating her normal calm. And she was beginning to feel physically exhausted, too, as if some force were draining her strength. Even her sleep had not been sound for the past few days since—

  Since Lokith awakened? Thokk suddenly thought. No, it can’t be. I gave him strength while healing him over the years, but he can’t still be draining my energy. Not without my permission. Yet, if he were, he might also be projecting mental magic at me, causing my self-control to slip, my anger with Guthrun to rise. But no. I won’t believe that of him, not without more proof. Guthrun is my main problem, not Lokith.

  “I have not used Witchcraft on your soul, Guthrun,” Thokk finally said, “because that would have inhibited the free flow of the powers I wished to awaken within you. I can probe your thoughts or, as you’ve learned, strip away your consciousness with a sudden burst of pain, but those do not touch your soul. However, since you continue to resist, obviously something more drastic must be done. If trying to reason with you through mental and physical means has failed to work, then I must do that which I had hoped to avoid.”

  “Admit defeat?” Guthrun suggested. “Help me destroy Lokith?”

  Thokk forced down an explosively angry reply and took a deep breath. “No, Guthrun. I speak of a shock to your soul, something that will momentarily stop you from denying and repressing your true self, your true powers. Not a manipulation of your soul, understand, but a shock. A death-shock to be exact, a Rune-bladed dagger plunged into your heart and, after a moment, withdrawn, then the wound quickly healed and your flesh returned to life.”

  “Kill me? That is your solution?”

  “You have said that you felt your powers stirring when near death in Lokith’s chamber. The dagger will enhance that effect, and in that moment of truth, when you die, you will come face-to-face with your inner self, see that what I’ve been patiently telling you is true. After that, since as I’ve already said, you’re neither stupid nor a fool, you will stop this ridiculous resistance and become that which you were born to become, a leader, with Lokith and I, of Hel’s army of Witches and warriors who will establish a new order on Earth.”

  “Perhaps you should go talk to Lokith, Thokk. Maybe he will entertain you by making you scream like he did me.”

  Thokk’s angry gaze pierced Guthrun’s eyes.

  Bloodsong’s daughter shook her head. “You are insane. You need the death-shock, not me. Let me help you with that, okay? Except I won’t heal you afterwards!”

  Thokk cursed under her breath as she left the room. She locked the door behind her.

  Guthrun started pacing the small room. Hurry, Mother, she thought over and over, like a prayer. Please, hurry!

  * * *

  Lokith smiled. Alone in his small cell, he had reached out with his mind and detected all that had happened in Guthrun’s room, thoughts as well as actions. He had become tense only once, when Thokk began to suspect the truth about his draining her strength and using mental magic to cloud her thoughts. But his will had been stronger than hers, and he had quickly led her suspicions and concerns away from him and back toward Guthrun.

  The death-shock will be a shock to both Guthrun and to you, Thokk, he thought, laughing softly, when I prevent my dear sister from being brought back to life. You will yourself, Thokk, have killed Hel’s Deadborn Witch-child. I will then have no choice but to execute you. Such a traitor to Hel’s plans could not, of course, be allowed to go unpunished. No matter that the death-shock came into your mind at my bidding and that it will be my hand that prevents Guthrun from being brought back from the dead. But I will need support to accomplish this plan, and I know exactly where to find it.

  He went to the door and hissed the spell to open locks. A blast of purple fire exploded the door outward. He strode through and turned up the stairs. It was time to seal Guthrun’s doom, and Thokk’s. Time to begin his ascent to the throne of the world.

  * * *

  “A word with you, Thokk!” Kovna demanded as he stepped into the hallway ahead of her. He glanced at Vafthrudnir, standing behind Thokk.

  “I’ve no time to talk with you just now,” she said, and tried to brush past him.

  He stepped to block her path. Styrki and a group of warriors with drawn weapons emerg
ed into the hallway to stand behind him.

  Curse my preoccupation with Guthrun, Thokk thought. I should have sensed Kovna’s presence, detected his thoughts and avoided him.

  “I told you I smelled humans,” Vafthrudnir rumbled behind her.

  Why can’t I think clearly? she asked herself. Why can’t I sense dangers before they occur as I always have before? Her thoughts went to Lokith but were swiftly pushed back to Guthrun. Curse that girl’s stubbornness!

  “Shall I tear their heads from their shoulders, Mistress?” the Jotun asked.

  Thokk shook her head negatively. “I could blast them all myself with but a word and a thought.” She held Kovna’s gaze. “What is worth risking your life and soul, Kovna?”

  “The Death Riders you sent for Bloodsong returned.”

  She probed his thoughts. “And? The Death Riders’ return is no secret.”

  “You sent nine. Only six came back.”

  “You are wasting my time.”

  “Did the six who returned bring evidence that Bloodsong is dead?”

  “She is dead,” Thokk assured him, then thought about Guthrun’s mental contact with Bloodsong. No, she must not be dead. Why didn’t I think of that? What’s wrong with me? Why am I suddenly making these dangerous mistakes? “I will send the Death Riders out again to make certain.”

  “Have your Jotun open the gateway, Thokk. I wish to send men of my own to scout the mountain trails. I have a warrior’s instincts. I can sense that my enemy is still alive, and if that is true, she will be plotting to attack your castle.”

  “Let her!” Thokk laughed. “If she nears this fortress, she will be destroyed.”

  “You are talking about the woman who destroyed Nidhug. You can take nothing for granted when dealing with her. You don’t know what happened to those three Death Riders, do you? I’ll tell you, then. The Gods know how, but Bloodsong has found some means of killing them.”

  “Kill Death Riders?” Thokk laughed again, but she felt uneasy. “It’s not possible. Only the power of a God or Goddess could do that.”

  “Then Bloodsong has obtained the aid of a God or Goddess.”

  “Such things are not easily accomplished.”

  “Difficulties have never stopped Bloodsong. She led a slave revolt and escaped Nastrond when hardly more than a girl. Open the gate, Thokk. For both our sakes. Let me send out patrols.”

  “There is no need. I will use magic to discover if she is a threat and to stop whatever she is planning, if she is indeed plotting a foolish attack.”

  “Open the gate. I wish to send patrols, anyway. I do not trust your magic. And there is another matter as well. My men brought two women to your castle, one not much more than a girl. Is it true that you allowed the older one to escape? The Witch who was Bloodsong’s friend and helped destroy King Nidhug? She might even now be plotting with Bloodsong.”

  “She did not escape, Kovna. She died. I probed with my mind and could not find hers. And if you won’t take my word, I sent Vafthrudnir to look for her. He lost the trail. For a Jotun, that can only happen when the one he seeks no longer exists in the flesh, It angered me for her to escape me by dying, but I content myself that her Freya-deluded soul is Hel’s guest now, and that her death under the claws of a Shadow Beast in my Chamber of Decay was suitably unpleasant,”

  “Open the gate,” Kovna repeated. “Order your Jotun to open the gate.”

  “Order him yourself.”

  “He takes orders only from you.”

  “Then I suppose the gate will stay closed, since I want you to stay here. All of you. Because I don’t trust you, either, Kovna. Not in the least. I want you and your men where my powers are the strongest.” The Hel-Witch brushed by Kovna.

  Kovna signaled his men not to stop her.

  Vafthrudnir casually backhanded Styrki as he passed.

  Styrki was hurled into a wall, cursed with pain, got to his feet, and took a step after the Jotun.

  “No,” Kovna ordered.

  Styrki controlled his anger with difficulty and saluted his general instead of attacking the Frost Giant.

  “We will try to open the gate ourselves,” Kovna decided, and led the way toward the courtyard.

  They will never succeed, Thokk thought as she continued on her way, casting her mind back to detect Kovna’s thoughts. The gate is sealed by magic as much as by the bolt only Vafthrudnir can draw. But Kovna is right about Bloodsong. I must send the Death Riders out again. Why didn’t I think of that? Her thoughts trailed away and became unfocused. She tried to remember what it was she had been about to do, could not, and continued on her way, the Death Riders forgotten.

  * * *

  Lokith had diverted Thokk’s thoughts from the Death Riders. No, Thokk, he smiled as he continued on his way to the stables. You will not send my Death Riders out. I am going to need them here for my own purposes. Hel has given me powers beyond your imagining. Bloodsong is no threat to me, not with the powers I possess. I only need to become fully awake to them, learn to use them to their fullest extent, which I will soon be able to do, once you and Guthrun are no longer a threat to my sovereignty.

  Lokith entered the stable, found a trapdoor, and swung it up and back. Below, darkness reigned. Lokith’s eyes adjusted and began to flicker with purple fire. He descended a short flight of stairs and stood looking at the six black-clad warriors lying upon the rat-infested dirt floor.

  The Death Riders lay upon their backs, hands folded upon their chests, dressed in full battle gear, ready to rise and obey.

  Yes, Lokith thought, to obey me and only me.

  He traced Runes in the air, faint lines of pulsing purple light trailing in his finger’s wake. He whispered a word of power. The Death Riders stirred, turned decay-ridden faces toward him. Within their empty eye sockets purple fires began to flicker.

  “I am Lokith,” he said, “your new master, the one for whom you’ve waited, the one about whom Hel has whispered in your darkest dreams.”

  The Death Riders got to their feet, dried flesh creaking like old leather. They stood silently staring at Lokith.

  Thokk is our mistress, one of the Death Riders replied, his thoughts touching Lokith’s mind.

  Thokk cares nothing for you, Lokith responded in kind. Three of your number have been slain because of Thokk. Is this not true?

  We did as ordered. We found our prey, the warrior called Bloodsong. But she had Odin’s aid, became a Corpse Beast, such as those which stalked Hel herself in Time’s Dawning. We tried to kill her but could not. Mother Hel sensed our plight and commanded us to retreat. Hel’s orders overrule Thokk’s. We returned here.

  A Corpse Beast? Lokith responded. Then she might indeed be a danger after all. I will deal with her when Guthrun and Thokk are dead. You did all you could, he told the Death Rider, then walked forward, placed his hand on the Death Rider’s shoulder and gripped it firmly. You did well, Axel Ironhand.

  You know my life-name? And you touch me without falling? How is this possible? Even Thokk cannot do that, and she has never used my life-name.

  I know all your life-names, Lokith answered, looking at the others. You are Einar, he nodded at one, and you are Thorvald, and you Rolfgar, Bjorn, and Karl. I also know the names of your friends who died fighting Bloodsong and the name of every other Death Rider and Hel-warrior waiting in Helheim for the order to ride forth and conquer the Earth, for I am he who will lead that conquest!

  The Death Riders stood silently waiting, and Lokith knew for what, the final sign.

  He moved from one to the other, stopping before each, leaning forward, kissing them on their fleshless mouths. At the touch of his lips upon their skullish faces, the purple fires in their eyes burned brighter, each feeling more alive than they had ever imagined it possible to feel again, the pain that possessed their every nerve suddenly fading away, ending the agony they h
ad felt since becoming the living Dead.

  From within the glowing eye sockets of the Death Riders, drops of moisture emerged and slid downward over chilled bone and tattered flesh, as each in turn went onto one knee and bowed his head in allegiance and thanks to Lokith.

  Arise and stand like the proud warriors you are, Lokith commanded, then waited until they had done so. You will now obey only me. And through me you shall become masters of the new order that we will soon establish upon the Earth.

  The Death Riders drew their swords and held them in salute to their new leader. Hail, Lokith! they said as one with their thoughts, pledging allegiance.

  And Lokith laughed with joy.

  ON THE night-shrouded, treeless slopes of Mount Jormungandr, eyes of fire flickered in the dark. Upon the narrow trail that led to the shunned Castle of the Hel-Witch Thokk, the sharp beast-vision of the Berserker Ulfhild saw the glowing eyes. “Stop!” she whispered. She raised her weapon.

  “I see them, too,” whispered Ulfhild’s mate, Harbarth, beside her. He raised his war-ax, ready for battle. Behind him, the other Berserkers did the same.

  Though riding with Grimnir and the mounted warriors far behind Ulfhild, Bloodsong’s enhanced hearing noted the warning. “Stop!” she hissed and reined Freehoof to a halt.

  Grimnir and the others stopped. He leaned toward her. “Bloodsong?”

  “Ulfhild detected something.”

  “In this darkness?”

  “Maybe a scent, or—” Bloodsong hesitated. “No. Now I see them, too.”

  “See what?”

  “But they are not the purple fire of Hel-magic.”

  “What aren’t?”

  She sniffed the air. Her nostrils flared. A death stench still hovered around the Death Rider’s clothing and armor she wore, but the enhanced physical senses that had come with her beastform’s manifestation revealed another death-stench on the cold night air, and beneath it—