The hesitation disappeared, like snow in a frying pan.
He stepped forward with a jerking movement, pulled a wicked, sharp sword, and pushed it in my chest hard enough to draw blood. I hissed in pain, and could see the pleasure on his face as I did. It was like ale to a drunk, and he fed off it. I noticed a flicker on the door, and guessed the guard’s worried, curious face was still on the peek hole, and the draugr turned to look.
There was a crash and a curse outside the door.
“Uhum,” I said. “You have been naughty. I bet the One Man won’t like that either. The guard saw what you are, eh?”
We both heard a torch fall to the water with a violent hiss, and the man running upstairs, panting.
“Shit,” the thing said remorsefully. “I have to kill them all. But,” he said cheerfully, “Let’s have some more light now we are alone again.” He summoned a speck of burning flame, just a simple spell braided together. The flame played around him.
I mocked him some more. “Nice little spell. But, the torches were enough. You are not a pretty sight in any light. And I doubt you were in life either.”
“I want you to see me fully,” he explained, as he touched the light gently, and it floated on top. “Look up to me,” he spat. “Come, bring that pretty face of yours to me, so I can make it suitably ugly for you coming unlife.” He pulled the sword and placed it under my eye. “I’ll—”
He hesitated and croaked softly.
My face ran and changed.
I had taken Balic’s gentle, noble face.
Changing my look that much was the limit of what I might do with my old skill, but it was enough. Tallo took a hesitant step back, unable to comprehend, for a moment, what was going on.
I twisted the chains off my wrists, and charged up.
I had not the strength of a jotun. It was true. I was powerful, but not near invincible. Yet, the dead prince’s shock turned into astonishment, as my fist slammed into his face, removing part of the rotten upper lip, and the teeth. The unpredictable battle rage wasn’t there for me, not then, but I was mad enough. I punched him again. He lifted the sword, shocked and shaken, and slashed it down. I dodged to the side, grasped him with two hands, and, grunting with the effort, I lifted him up and slammed his back to the wall near the door. I heard bones fracturing and breaking. He fell to the water, and I rushed him, struggling with him.
The draugr lost all composure. “Help, help, get him off me!” the prince yelled, his maw filled with water. I could not drown him; his sword was flailing dangerously close to my shoulder, as I kept pushing him under, just for him to push back up. I noticed a wide dagger in the belt beneath his open robe, and grabbed it. I pulled it fluidly and stabbed it down at the thing’s chest, as Taram Blacktower had taught me.
He roared, but didn’t die, and backhanded me across my ear. I cursed and twisted the blade, and that was when another guard rushed in. He didn’t see much, rushing for the struggling mass. I cursed and hurtled for him. I hit him with a bone jarring crash, and hacked at what I though was his neck. He twitched, gurgled, staggered forward a few steps, fell on his knees against me, and then on his face past me, with the helmet pulling him below the waist-high water.
The dead one slammed into me.
The terrible eyes were burning. He was cursing, his boney fingers trying to suffocate me, and I struggled for my life. “Taking the King’s Face, are we? Lying, thieving human. Pretender! I’ll drown you, then I’ll slit you open. I’ll piss on your gut and play with your intestines. You’ll be a draugr without a belly, near skeleton. I’ll eat you, and take Mother some flesh!” he hissed, ramming me on my back, the pain like fire in my veins. I struck my head to the concrete below the surface, and I knew I’d die.
For a moment, until they raised me, I corrected myself.
I was in panic, cursing in my head. I heaved up, just once, and remembered I had the dagger still. I stabbed it in his chest again, but it had no apparent effect, as he struggled me back under the water, giggling madly. I twisted the blade, and he howled, and I barely heard it under water. He groped one hand on my face, while the other one was squeezing my throat. I felt he was casting a spell, weaving together fires of Muspelheim, and I felt warmth under his hand, even in the ice-cold water. He was summoning more heat to the spell, and would burn my face, scourge my skull and cook my brains, like one would roast a chunk of mutton. One of his fingers slipped over my eyes. I opened my mouth, swallowed water, and struck one more time.
The blade sunk into his skull.
He fell over me, convulsing, spilling the rotten remains of his brains on the water I was swallowing. I gagged and vomited. I pushed his corpse away, got to my knees. The bastard was fully dead, floating around, but I surged, and stabbed the corpse for a few more times.
I panted in the corner, trying to catch my breath, half suffocated, and spat water. I walked up the bastard, and grabbed the corpse and pulled it to the cot, which was under water. I gingerly stripped it off the robe, pulled its expensive leather armor, which was too small for me. I stripped him of a large tunic, which would be serviceable. I groped under the water until I found the sword, and then searched under the sloshing, terrible water for the guard’s corpse. Weeping with pain and frustration, I finally managed to tear the chain mail from him. I removed his pants as well, and boots, and retched again. I put them on, then the chain mail, wiggling my frozen body in, and pulled the tunic over the chain. Last, I draped the robe over all of that. I searched the guard for the keys, and spotted them in the lock. I probably resembled a wreck, even with Balic’s pretty face, and then I decided Balic would not do.
I turned to look at Tallo.
The bastard’s face would be perfect. I concentrated, and changed my face into that of the prince.
I turned to the doorway, and prayed for Odin to aid me. He was probably not the god I should pray to, him being enemies to many jotuns, as the stories told us, but I had no other names in my freezing, numb mind.
I opened the door, hesitated, looked left and right, and saw endless amount of forlorn cell doors, most half under water. Death and putrid fumes wafted in the corridors, and I was sure there were depths in the Lock of the Sea, where even the rats dared not go. I made my way forward, towards the stairway. I was rushing, and I nearly fell, as there were stairs under water. They were slippery and terribly hard to step on. Soon, they steepened, and the water ended. I was walking up a moist, stone walkway. I took my time, waiting at the middle, and sensed there was light and somewhat fresher air on top. I stopped, listening. A lute was playing, not too far. I heard upset voices, as I sneaked forward.
“Relax. He went down to check, Mirk,” said an amused voice. “Hagri will laugh when he gets back. What you were saying? That was mad. He’ll throw you to the gutter, you drunk.”
“I saw what I saw,” the man, whom I guessed had been the turnkey, said. “He was dead. It was as clear as cloud in the sky. I’m not drunk. Not that drunk.”
“They are all alive, thanks to great Balic,” another voice said so piously, I felt my belly heaving. Someone was plying the lute even louder now, as if to bury the argument under a wave of soothing music.
I crawled forward, and got to a door. I peeked past it, and saw rows of cells. At the end, there was a brightly lit room, which continued beyond a corner, and shadows moving. The guardroom.
“Wonder when you come looking for them,” I whispered to myself, and decided I’d kill them one by one. I felt delirious with pain and cold, and knew I should be careful not to give myself away.
I knew I couldn’t wait for them.
Balic’s executioners might arrive to fetch me, and then I’d have no choice but to join his rotten army, or rush to the unknown depths, where I’d probably die of drowning or cold.
I’d have to kill the guards. Fast.
It would be desperate, suicidal. I had to gather all my bravery to step forward, keeping an eye on the end of the room, where nobody was in sight, even if the voices cle
arly came from around the corner. I decided to walk up there, with the face of the prince. Just when I began to walk, I heard a woman sobbing. I hesitated, and saw one of the cells was clearly occupied. It was shut, but there was the peephole, and it was open.
A light shone inside.
Someone important? The princess?
I tiptoed over, gazed inside, and saw the girl who had been with the draugr, the pretty, young princess of Aten. Her blonde hair was disheveled, as she sat there in the dark, shivering with fear.
They meant to give her the same nasty gift as Balic wanted to give me, and force her to join her family. She was to die, and walk again, under Balic’s cruel leash.
I should run, I thought. Fight and escape.
Had I not learnt to mind my own business?
She’d die, my conscience whispered, and so, I forgot everything.
I had to save her.
And I had the keys.
CHAPTER 10
I gazed down the hall, as I turned the key in the lock. The door opened easily. The weeping stopped immediately, and I cursed it, because that might alert the guards.
I opened the door, and she gasped, as she looked at me with horror. “No!” she said, too loudly. “I don’t—”
I shook my head, confused.
“Tallo, I—” she began
I shook my head, cursing myself, because I had her brother’s accursed face. She retreated to the wall, her breasts heaving with fright under her tunic. “Come to finish me as well? I saw you. Marching down to kill a king, Tallo. A shackled man. And, now, a girl. The jotun was right about you.”
“No,” I said, and she frowned, because my voice was not quite right.
“You loved me once,” she whispered nontheless. “When I was very small. Before you turned into a sack of shit.”
I suddenly heard a noise in the corridor, and realized the lute was no longer playing.
“What’s going on in there?” demanded a voice, not too far. “Hagri? Why are you in her cell? Leave Princess Quiss alone, you hear? She is destined for Balic! Did you find a ghoul below?” I heard steps. “Get up here, and tell Mirk he is a fool and a drunk.”
I pulled off the robe and the tunic, swearing, as Quiss stared at me in stupefaction. The mail gleamed, and I tried to remember what the dead man looked like.
My face melted, changed, and my chin, stubbled and wide, possibly resembled Hagri’s. The girl opened her mouth, and then closed it, shaking her head with horror, as I begged gods the looks were close enough. I turned to the door, and heard Quiss whispering, “He had reddish hair. Not black.”
I turned to her in astonishment, admiring her calm intelligence and bravery, and nodded thanks as I fixed the issue. Metal shod boots were clomping towards the door, and I rushed forward. I poked my head out of the cell, scowling.
The man stopped, hesitating. “I asked what are you doing there.”
“Lord Tallo told me to prepare her for him. I’ll just tie her up. Won’t touch her tits.” I groaned at that, and blushed, but went on bravely. “The man is in a murderous mood. There was no ghoul there, just the little pricked bastard torturing the big, handsome King,” I said. “Though, he isn’t so handsome now. He—”
“Your voice sounds strange,” the man said.
“Cold,” I answered, with a cough. I shrugged at the guard, and hoped the corridor was shadowy enough for the man to miss any detail that might be wrong.
He frowned. “Prepare how? Tie her up? Why? They never tie them up. I don’t get it. She’s going to get hers, and the One Man will raise her, and what’s that to us? We’ll bow when they leave.”
My mind was racing, and I came up with a horrible idea. “Because the lord will want to visit her when he comes up. He’ll want to see her naked,” I said grinned, and clutched the sword. “He’s a twisted little shit. So, she’s naked now.”
“Oh! That sort of a brother,” the guard chuckled. “I’ve heard the Atenguard’s are like that.” He looked back, and I could hear the Captain talking with the last guard, Mirk. The man shrugged. “Here, I can help you.”
“She ready,” I said softly. “No need—”
Quiss frowned.
“Oh, come, I’ll have a look,” the bastard said, and I nodded and retreated.
I felt a momentary stab of panic, looked at the girl, who blushed, and pulled her tunic off. Then she struggled out of her pants, and went to sit on the bed, her hands behind her back, her back straight. I stared at her with an open mouth, and she winked at me nervously. She lifted her chin, and sat in the dank cell like a statue of gold, her breasts inviting and full, and the rest of her just as enticing. She had curves to make a man stutter with shock.
The guard did.
He came to the door and stepped through, his eyes light with wonder. He ignored me, and cocked his head, as if inspecting a prized stallion. “She’s a fine looking one. Oh, look at those …” he said uncertainly. “Wait, she’ll be raised and—”
The girl grinned. “When I’m raised, I’ll find you.”
The guard had not considered that possibility. He blanched, terrified, and turned to me. “You damned idiot. You—”
I rammed the sword into his throat. He staggered, wheezed, and fell forward, grasping for my throat, and we fell against the wall. I kept yanking the blade back and forth, enduring the terrible thrashing of the dying man. I winced at the wet, sharp sound of flesh tearing and bone grinding against metal, as I pulled the blade across his throat. Finally, his eyes went blank, then the whites showed, and he collapsed on me. He was a big man, and I struggled to push him off, but couldn’t. Being shackled by Sorrowspinner’s curse was unfortunate, and embarrassing, as the woman approached.
I saw the blonde hair above me, and felt grateful as she was leaning to help, though the sight was breathtaking. “Thank you. If you can drag his ass off—”
“Shut up,” she hissed. “Be quiet.” She was still naked, and held the guard’s sword on my throat. She blew a lock of hair off her face, and clearly contemplated on skewering me. “You killed my brother?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what killed him really, but I only reminded him of the fact. He’s not walking up from there, if that’s what you mean. Perhaps Balic can raise him again?”
She kept the blade on my throat, and her hand was very steady. She knew the weapon intimately well. “No. They’ve tried before. A king of Harrian fell in war years past, and they couldn’t make his spirit return for the third time. The body moved, but the mind didn’t. I saw it. They don’t come back quite the same on the second try. Senseless and mad, they are, as if they are … tired? Yes, tired of having to walk again.” She smiled coldly. “Your face? Interesting trick.”
“Skill,” I said, eyeing the blade. “Skill, not a trick. I’m a—”
“Giant,” she laughed. “Gods laugh, but they are real. And what shall I do with the Giant-King of Red Midgard? And why aren’t you … more formidable? Can you do other tricks than change your face?”
“Skill, not a trick. And I’m magically shackled,” I said darkly. I showed her the ring. “Can’t take it off.”
“Too bad.”
“Too bad?” I asked her incredulously. “Yes, it is. I’ve had a damned bad day. Perhaps you can help me up? I’d rather not meet Balic. By the looks of things, you weren’t happy to join the family either.”
I hoped it was true.
She nodded. “I wasn’t. But, many have volunteered. Almost all the twenty kingdoms have fallen under the terrible spell.”
“Not I,” I murmured. “I’d keep it that way, thank you.”
She chuckled. “Well. You are different. You know the truth. But, the people do not. Balic sends the priests around, claiming there are no gods or afterlife, and these mad bastards promise them life eternal right here in Midgard. They want the gods, but the gods are gone, and then, suddenly, you only have Balic. You see a king’s burial, and then he emerges from his tomb, alive and beautiful. The story grows. H
e walked the city, raised his family. He is the one who can bring back the dead. It’s powerful drug. He gives them life, a promise for eternal life, and what is more; walking proof he is no liar. Few desire anything else.” She looked grim, and beautiful, and I wished she would cover up. The sight was uncomfortable, to say the least. The blade stayed under my chin.
“As interesting as this is,” I hissed, “let me up.”
She licked her lips. “Why? I have no idea what you intended when you came in here. You might have been lost. Or worse.”
I cursed so profanely she flinched. “I wasn’t lost. And I’m not like that! I hoped to rescue you!”
“Shh!” she said. “Ordinarily, I don’t need rescuing—”
“Oh?” I cursed. “You were all fine, then? Waiting for Tallo and Balic, weeping with joy?” I asked, keeping an eye on the blade. She was no fool, and would not be distracted.
She shook her fair head. “No, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be like them. They don’t disguise themselves in the palace, in our rooms. They—”
“We don’t have time—”
Quiss put the blade over my lips. “Like you, I know the difference between a curse and a blessing. I want to be rid of them. I wish to enjoy riding my horse across the Shale Mountain valleys, and to forget Aten. I wish to whoop with joy, as I dip into a clear stream, and listen to larks, as they sing in the twilight. No. I love my life. I will fight to keep it, and hopefully, one day, I shall remember the family who died long ago, and forget the ghouls who walk.”
“I understand and agree,” I told her. “I’ve had similar experience. And I did come here to help you. And now, we need to help each other.”
She hesitated, and then pulled off. “I am sorry. I am short of trust, and wasn’t sure if this was some game my mother had devised to torture me. Just wanted to make sure you are … not giving me false hope. I’m sort of happy they didn’t get you, and that you are alive.” She leaned over the body, and we pulled and pushed at the guard, rolling him onto his back over my legs. I finally kicked myself free. The girl stood there, looking at me carefully, as I climbed to my feet.
The Queen of the Draugr: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Thief of Midgard - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 2) Page 13