The Queen of the Draugr: Stories of the Nine Worlds (Thief of Midgard - a dark fantasy action adventure Book 2)

by Alaric Longward

  She stabbed it forward, and I swung my blade, but it passed through her spear. I slipped yet again, and the spear missed and burned into the throne by my head. It split the wood cleanly, leaving fiery wood behind. I kicked at her, she gasped, and I slid away, falling from the dais heavily. From the corner of my eye, I saw the bitch was behind me, her spear coming for me again.

  The ice seemed not to bother her at all.

  I swatted at her, she placed a foot on my groin, and kept me down, her eyes above me.

  I stabbed at her. The blade sunk to her hip.

  She grimaced with pain, as I tore at the sword, and the spear went up. The sword was stuck.

  I despaired, and grasped something near us, a heap of burning robe. It burned my hand, but I threw it at her. The robe draped around her face, and the creature shrieked. The spear dissipated into the air, she grasped at the blazing thing, which fell around her. The coarse hair was on fire, then her dress. She howled like a haunted spirit of the terrible stories from my childhood. She finally slipped and swung around, going to her knees. I hissed as I slipped after her, and stabbed her again.

  The blade went through her chest.

  I twisted and hauled at it, and she slapped me so hard my ears rang. I growled, in a mad battle rage now. I pressed the sword down, and through her ribs, slicing off a piece of rotten carcass.

  Then, I slipped on the damned ice once again.

  I crashed on my back; Raven was above me, trying to bury me in a fiery embrace. I barely managed to kick her feet from under her. She flailed, fire burst out of her hands, and scorched the air before my face. With all the power I could muster, I swung the sword at her throat.

  The blade cut through the flesh, making a ripping, crude sound, not unlike tearing paper.

  She smacked her foul lips, and fell silent, as the head rolled free.

  I was panting, bleeding, and burned. I felt my face with worry, and laughed at my vain gesture, but didn’t notice anything missing. I got up weakly, and staggered to the throne, eyeing the burning queen. I pulled the corpse by the ankles, and dragged it to the window. I peeked out. There was nothing there, not a ship, and no sign of people below. I begged the gods Quiss had made it out, and Sand had kept his word. I’d go downstairs very soon, if I could, after I had my audience with the generals, but first, I’d have to clean up. I picked up Raven’s corpse, and threw it out of the window for the sharks to feed on. I begged to gods no guard would wonder at the sight. I considered the scorched dais and quickly melting ice on the floor, even the smoky ceiling, the droplets of blood, and decided none of it mattered. Instead, I tightened the bag on my belt, pulled at the chain mail, and sat down to wait.

  It was a nervous wait. A long wait. I heard horns in the city, hoarse calls by guards, and the noise of a city alive with people, many preparing for war. It would be a strange war, with Aten, whom we had always traded and commonly guarded the Arrow Straits. They had been fine allies.

  There were noises downstairs.

  They were gruff, official noises, and there were many. I thought I heard the butler calling out in his sonorous, official tone, and then there were metallic steps coming up the stairs. They made an odd noise, like heartbeats, as the armored soldiers climbed. I concentrated. I let my face melt, as I took the face of Balic, and not the prince. The delicate, curly blond hair flowed around me, the serious, beautiful face just right. I felt it, and shuddered. I cursed the lack of the fine clothing, but the face was convincing enough. They would see him, then something else. I didn’t know what he looked like as a draugr, but I had imagination, and plenty of references. I’d make them flee with horror. The sight might make them desert. It might force them to doubt their kings and queens? Perhaps. Few men would want to look like the visage I was about to show them, and the unlife I’d offer them, in Balic’s name.

  The steps came closer. They stopped.

  I got up, stood there with my hands behind my back.

  The door opened. The butler stepped in, holding on to the door. “The generals, your highness.” He was shaking so hard his hair was out of place. There was a horrified look on his face, and I put it down as panic at seeing Balic standing there.

  The generals entered.

  There were five, and they walked in. They came closer, the butler stood by the door, not going away, and I wondered what he was doing. I smiled at the generals.

  None kneeled. They all looked confused, as they stopped there, before me.

  I spoke. “Dear friends. I thank you for coming.”

  “But—” one with an emblem of Six Spears stammered.

  I waved him down. “I have decided to bless not only the royals of the realm, but the men they trust. In the name of One Man, prepare to have your lives change. I can offer you a great gift.” I felt foolish, outright stupid. I had no ide how Balic spoke, and how the religion of his worked, but I made my best effort. “For your bravery, I shall offer you this gift after the war, the true gift of life. Behold!”

  My face changed before their eyes. Chunk of meat was missing from my face, one eye was a mangled mass of rotten meat, and the hair turned gray. The tongue which showed between the rotten teeth was black as night.

  It worked.

  They had a look of utter horror, absolute disgust, and gibbering fear on their faces as they stepped away from me. I stepped forward. “Will you not bow down before your High King? Will you not thank me? Will you take my blessing?”

  They backed off. They were human, terrified, and also oddly confused. The reason for fear was obvious. I found out a reason for the confusion very quickly.

  The butler fell on his face. A hand holding a sword was over him, the blade dripping blood. A shadow entered the room.

  It was Balic.

  One general thrust his hand to stop the One Man. “Ware! There is a beast here, my king, mimicking your grace!”

  They all drew weapons.

  Balic shuddered with rage as he looked at me. “It is the jotun. The king of lies, and he is out to kill us all. Alas, he has killed the Queen! Take him!” The generals whirled, stepping forward uncertainly, their magnificent swords out before them, the golden and black armor jingling.

  I had failed. Terribly. The Generals would wonder, but wouldn’t doubt Balic. They would blame me, and my odd magic.

  As it happened, Balic would not risk the humans walking out of that room, anyway.

  Balic’s hands moved, and a black stone shone in his fist. It was flat, and plain, except for the soft light it emitted. Then, darkness grew out of it, and a powerful force rolled over the room. I threw myself behind the dais, and saved my life. The room rocked, the dais cracked, the roof tiles fell, a column crumbled, the thrones flew backwards in splinters. My chain mail was half ripped off my back. The power went on and on. I glimpsed Balic standing there, holding the spell, and then, finally, he lifted his hand. The power wore off. I got up amidst splintered stone and wood, bits of flesh and armor. I saw the generals were all dead, their gorgeous mails ripped, parts of their bodies in pieces all around the room. The stone was still glowing in Balic’s hand, but he cursed, and let it fall away to some hidden pocket. Then, he was Kissing the Night. Something twirled in the air around me. I felt how a smothering coil embraced me. It was an invisible power, a spirit, or a spell. I knew not. The thing settled around me, and the thing twirled around my throat and squeezed. Balic was snarling victoriously. I knew I’d die momentarily.

  Shadows shot across the room.

  Balic screamed with anger, and perhaps pain.

  The spirit-spell disappeared.

  I saw the figure of Sand stabbing at Balic. He was doing so hopelessly, his face a thing of determination, even when Balic slapped him across the room. He got up, changed into a shadow, darted aside, found his own sword amidst the debris, and appeared next to the High King.

  Balic yelled. “Stop!”

  Sand stopped in mid stab.

  He shifted on his feet, uncertain, unable to move, his face turned to
me, and he mouthed an order. Flee.

  I cursed, hesitated, and moved. I screamed my anger at Balic, and jumped out of the window.

  I tumbled down a long drop, and passed a sleek galley’s nose by an inch.

  I hit the water, and went deep. I heard distant splashes, and struggled up. The surface seemed a long way away, too long, and I cursed desperately in my head. I might drown. Gods, what a way to die!

  Before I did, hands grasped me, and pulled me up.

  I got to the surface, gasping for air, and looked at my savior. Quiss was there, her hair plastered to her skull, waving at burly men above. Some of his men were around me in the water. Others were swimming for us. The men on the galley pulled us up, and threw me on a thick deck of a sturdy ship. The ship veered away, as the oarsmen pulled it, and I lay on the deck, and looked up to see Balic staring down at us.

  Quiss laughed at his face, and flashed her sword at him.

  I dragged the sack with the books off my belt, and smiled at her defiance.

  Then, I saw the figure next to Balic. It was staring at Quiss, and Balic was pointing a finger at her and then at me. Sand nodded and bowed.

  Sand was now our enemy.

  BOOK 3: THE HERO

  “Anyone can see there are prints. Half blind fool can. But, there are some prints here, which will make us all unhappy. Very unhappy.”

  Gorth in the Old City

  CHAPTER 14

  Quiss was sitting next to me, as I shivered on the deck. Half of my clothing was in tatters, and the chain mail was a broken mantle around one of my shoulders. She had dealt with the ship’s issues for a time, but was now trying to drape a blanket around me. I nodded thanks, though I refused the blanket. She sighed and waved a hand towards the city we had just left. “He left me,” she said. “Sand. He was there, and then he disappeared. Just like that.”

  “I know,” I said. What had I expected? That he’d obey me, rather than his own wishes?

  She looked like she was to blame. “He promised you. He promised not to hurt me. Perhaps he had to leave me, in order to keep that promise. I don’t know.”

  “He saved me,” I said, both terrified of and sad for Sand. “He came to help me. We cannot worry about it now. We must later, but not now. I have to worry about this.”

  I had Balic’s small book in my hands.

  What I had found in it horrified me to my core. It was filled with a spidery script, some from the previous day.

  “What does it say?” she asked, trying to take it, but I didn’t let go of it. “You’ve been glued to it for an hour. I’m getting jealous.”

  “I did tell you my recent past as I read, didn’t I?” I had told her briefly of my adventures in Dagnar, and how I came to know I was a jotun.

  “Yes, and it was a marvelous story,” she said gratefully. “But you have been gasping and sighing as you read. I wish to know what you found in there.”

  I waved my hand for the North. “It’s full of all sorts of thoughts. But, there is a drawing with ships and numbers, and our coast. They will land on two sides. One army will rush to Dansar’s Grave, to grasp the Grimwing Pass and then they will press after Baduhanna. That’s their job. To get to Dansar’s Grave as fast as possible. If we had an army, it would be hard going for these armies headed for Dansar’s Grave, since the ways up the Crow’s Hook and from beach are thin and hard to travel.”

  “If we had an army,” she said uncertainly. “But, there is none to hold it.”

  I gritted my teeth in rage. “None. And then, an army led by Balic himself, with his guard, will land to the west of Dagnar. There are hardly any cliffs, and they can just march up. And then, they’ll siege the city and block the peninsula. And there is no reason to siege, even, just pillage, since Hilan will happily open the way for them. Says right here Hilan is preparing a way in. Not sure what way. The dverger made the underground passages inoperable, and closed most ways down to the Old City. Maybe she will order the gates opened, but I’m not sure Dagnar will look kindly on Hammer Legion marching in. Anyway, she has a job, and that is to make sure Balic doesn’t waste too much time with Dagnar. Wonder how she will deal with Lord Ban, who is supposed to co-rule. He will have an accident, no doubt.”

  “Bastard,” she muttered. “She must be stopped. Why don’t they all just march to Grimwing pass, though? Why bother with Dagnar at all? The loot will wait.”

  I frowned as I sat there, staring at the plans. “I don’t know. Baduhanna hoped the people would slow them down, and perhaps its just personal for Balic. He lost a lot of men there last time. Perhaps he hopes Red Midgard will surrender by taking the Rose Throne. I know not.”

  Some forty Hammer Legionnaires, in their wide helmets, stared at us in wonder, whispering amongst themselves. The rowers, all free men, were putting their backs to it, pulling at the oars like men promised a king’s weight in riches at the end of the road, and perhaps Quiss had done just so. A wide-shouldered, coarse-looking, hugely bearded captain was muttering by the bow, and also cursing, as strong waves whipped ice-cold water across the deck. Quiss was fidgeting, as we passed some islands with towers and forts, there to guard the Arrow Straits from pirates and smugglers, but the war had emptied the forts, and such mercenaries had gone home, or joined the war.

  The book had had something else of interest. I waved it at her face, with a meaningful look on mine. “I don’t know why Balic bothers with Dagnar. Truly, I don’t, but there is a hint here to what his ultimate goal is.”

  “What?” Quiss asked, sardonically. “You sure it is not just a recipe for a rich beef stew?”

  I opened it up. There was a page, and on that page, there were only few sentences. The rest of the book was filled with texts and pictures, but not that page. I tapped it. “Balic said I have the honor to perform a great act up there in the North. Baduhanna is rushing there to stop it, but she didn’t tell me anything. And then, there is this. Listen.”

  “Speak,” she said impatiently.

  “She was lost, at a great cost,” I read. “Touch the floor and clutch a boar. The Queen of the Draugr shall be free; the King shall go on a knee.”

  “Huh?” Quiss asked with an impish smile. “Clutch a boar? He means to wrestle a pig?”

  I chuckled and rubbed my face. “It’s a riddle. Maybe not his own, but one of the Blacktowers, who scribbled it in the Book of the Past? I don’t know. But, I’m more worried about the other line. The Queen shall be free? Is he talking about Mir? She is the Queen of the Draugr. That’s what she called herself. “

  “Could be,” she said. “She is up there in the North?”

  I nodded. “Yes, she is. She left with Crec and the armies. But, then, I’m not sure the text speaks of her. There is something crucial we don’t understand. Balic has to deal with Baduhanna, since she is a huge danger to his plans. There is something more terrible happening in the north, and that involves a Queen. Mir is the Queen of the Draugr. She is the only draugr, besides Balic, who can raise draugr,” I hesitated. “But …”

  “Yes?” Quiss asked, observing my face.

  “Your father, Aten-Sur, was enraged when Mir was calling herself that,” I said, mulling it over. “And Balic seemed upset with her. Perhaps there is just simple, jealous rivalry, but there might be something else to this Queen business. There is something happening in the North, and it involves our armies, those of Falgrin, a Queen, my Black Grip, and perhaps me. Balic said I would see. Only I, amongst his servants, and then, there was that bit about the honor of an act I’d perform. That was peculiar. I don’t know what Balic wants. To humiliate me, yes, but I felt he needed me. It definitely had something to do with the Black Grip, and it is one of the most powerful artifacts in the land. I freed Baduhanna from its spell. And Baduhanna,” I said meaningfully, “wanted the Grip. And demanded I shall not go to the north.”

  “Freed? She was held? A goddess?” Quiss asked, an air of disbelief in her tone.

  “Demi-goddess. There was a cavern,” I told her. “And Fath
er had put a spell to keep her in. She wasn’t very pleased by that when I first met her.”

  She leaned over to eyeball the text. “And these lines say a Queen shall be free?” Quiss whispered, and we both felt a great sense of foreboding.

  “Something is held somewhere,” I said.

  “Yes. And if Balic calls that something ‘the Queen of the Draugr’…”

  “He needs me and the Grip,” I said, very worried. “And I—”

  “Maybe not you,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Maybe any jotun will do,” Quiss answered.

  “No,” I said. “Only my family. Blood family. Ymirtoes.”

  She nodded, frowning. “Ymirtoes only? Fine. Whatever it is, and I agree it sounds ominous, we have to save the goddess first.”

  “In Dagnar,” I said resolutely.

  “It would be easier if you just went to Dansar’s Grave, and warned her, eh? Like Balic should do, we should do. Bypass Dagnar.”

  I shook my head. “Everything is held by traitor Helstrom troops. To get to Dansar’s Grave, Hilan must die. And the city is full of people. She is trying to give the city to Balic. She must be killed.” I gazed at her. “And there was some sinister figure in there. Perhaps a draugr is looking over Hilan. One of Balic’s royals? I know not.”

  “A whole city against us,” Quiss said, with a wistful smile, “and a goddess to save. Nothing is easier.” She looked at bravely me and shrugged. “It is so, then. We all need to get to Dagnar. I have an idea how to do it.” She looked at Gorth, and the man apparently read minds, because he nodded to her. He looked unhappy.