by Farah Cook
He sighs heavily. “After you.”
“Now you want to go?”
“I’m not afraid of Garm Klan scum,” he says.
“These scums are our only hope,” I say. “They were promised this wasteland. We have to trust him.”
“Arres is not a place for people with morals,” says Frederick. “It’s a place of blood, deadly spices, lust, and murder. A place where the Emperor kills his own children to get what he wants.”
“You know about that?”
“Everyone in Arres knows about it,” says Frederick. “He’s built an empire in the ashes, and these ashes can choke you to death in a heartbeat.”
“You spent far more time here than I did,” I say. “Has the desert syndrome started to get to you?”
“Be quiet, humans,” says Gautam. “And follow me.”
Gautam takes us underground to some sort of vault through dark passages. He could kill Frederick and me. We must be desperate to trust a flesh-eating creature, and stupid to follow him into the dank tunnels. I don’t get why he’d want to help us. Like hunted, craven animals, we slink along into the darkness.
Odd noises and screams emerge from the shafts, whispers in the dark. Panic begins to strike me with all sorts of crazy questions. What if he’s leading us into a trap? Is he planning to feast on us? How did he make his way into Arres? What does he really want? He wants something and will tell us when he knows we’re at our lowest point.
Gautam is unusually quiet as we wade through dirty black water. The smell is awful, sour, and acidy. I turn to discover Frederick’s gone pale, his breath still. Something is happening to him. He’s stopped responding. I shake him and try to get an answer out of him. But he’s not reacting. The boil on his neck is spreading like an epidemic.
“Do something,” I cry. “He’s turning blue.”
Gautam turns, his eyes popping.
“Stand back.” As he is about to feed on Frederick’s wound, I block him. Another move and I will kill him using my sword.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“He’s been poisoned.”
“That’s not possible,” I say. “Poisoned with what?”
“With whatever cut his neck,” says Gautam. “Assassins poison their blades, and if their victims don’t die on impact and escape, the poison will kill them.”
“How do you know this?”
“That’s irrelevant,” he says. “Do you want me to rescue him?”
I nod, and my arm goes limp. “Yes,” I whisper. “Can you save him?”
“I’ll try not to eat him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shout. “Either you help him or else.”
“We’re meat eaters,” says Gautam. “Blood is a temptation. I won’t deny it. But I will do my best not to eat Veran meat.”
“Well, resist,” I say, “or lose your life.” I place my sword on his chest. Gautam opens his mouth and bites into Frederick’s neck, sucking out the venom. Slowly, Frederick’s color returns, his chest moves, and the flow of oxygen returns to his lungs. When the Mulhog is done, it spits out a thick silver substance into the gutters.
“What the hell was that?” says Frederick. His wound begins to heal rapidly.
“You’re lucky I didn’t turn you into my dinner,” says the Mulhog and walks ahead.
“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” repeats Frederick.
“The gods must have given you ten lives,” I say, relieved knowing that he lives. I give him a firm hug, but his arms hang lifelessly to his side. He is worried and so am I, but I try not to show it. I try to be strong. What’s happening to Frederick? How long will he go on? I’m terrified that his luck will run out.
17
FREDERICK
A PART OF me does not want this. The unknown, the danger of getting Nora and myself killed with each step we take into darkness. I’m shaken from defeating death over an over. I can’t go on. The Mulhog resisted the temptation between my rescue and my death this once. Maybe it will not hesitate next time.
Nora glares at me, questioning my condition. I know what she’s thinking. Why am I not grateful she took a chance and let the beast suck out the poison? She puts her hand on my back and rubs it gently. What do I tell her? That I am angry with her?
“Breathe, Frederick.” But I don’t. I hold onto my breath as if I was under water and breathing would kill me. She tries to knock the air out of me, her fingers curled into a hard ball hitting my spine. “Breathe, by the gods, breathe.” Her voice is alarming.
I toss my head between my legs and do as I am told. I breathe. But she doesn’t know that breathing is my enemy. The air feels toxic, enriched with poisonous fumes that are infesting my lungs. I feel vulnerable and exposed. Why don’t I feel grateful for being saved?
When I was much younger, I’d laugh so hard that I couldn’t breathe. These days I rarely laugh and when I hold my breath now, it’s because I am either under attack or surviving whatever it is that’s trying to kill me.
As I begin to breathe again, I see the ease on Nora’s face. She’s trying to break into my mind, questions always questions. I want to take a leap of faith and fall. I want to shout that I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m tired of risking our lives. Tired of putting us into dangerous situations. It will not stop when we return to the Triangle. The Verans and the Goths will want our heads.
I wish we could run away and never return, not to Arres, not to the Triangle, and certainly never to the City of Vikings. Like Nora’s dad, I seek comfort in starting over, perhaps in Midgard, if we get that far. As I keep my inner thoughts sealed and my breath steady, I fool the girl I love into believing I am okay. But how do I tell her I am not? My anger is partly to do with the constant danger I sense. Anytime now something terrible is going to happen. The Mulhog will deceive us. When did a flesh-eating creature from the Garm Klan ever help humans? He might have helped me now, but only because he needs something from us in return. Nora carries all the weapons strapped around her body. The Mulhog knows what he’s up against. He’d be mad to challenge us to battle.
Hunger strikes me, and I feel tired and dizzy. Thirst burns my throat. I remain strong and follow Nora and the Mulhog into the dark underworld of Arres. The tunnels appear smaller at this end, like the walls are closing in on us. I never was fond of small spaces. I grew up in mansions, tall towers. The Dahl residence was prestigious and glorious. My entire future was planned for me. I knew what I wanted to be and where I was going, until I met Nora. I think of my past: my father, my brother, Tommy, and my dynasty. What will they all do when I tell them?
She changed my life, and I will never know my expected future. Instead, I will know more of the unforeseen dangers ahead of us. Forbidden love, wars between our clans, our dynasties. Lord Nourusa’s evil forces wait to click the switch to darkness, and the shadow worlds are prepared to unfold. Nourusa’s followers stand ready to battle, murder, and to take what Nora and I would die to protect–Midgard.
How do I fit into all this? With more than our lives at risk, the Viking worlds are waiting, and the battle for Midgard is about to begin. How will Nora forge ahead? She needs me. I know she does, and there’s no point in being angry about the fate we chose for ourselves. It will only lead to a quicker death. I need to gather my strength, and shut down my inner voice. I don’t want to alert Nora. But by the gods, it will affect her. She keeps strong for both of us, and I sense her growing fear. Sooner or later she, too, has to break, but if she does, she won’t tell me. She’s too tough.
It’s in her nature to contradict, be impulsive, change her mind, and show bravery, determination, and stubbornness. She’s one of a kind, and I see why the gods handpicked her to lead the way to the Nine Worlds. Only a character like Nora can carry that burden. She carries fire in her belly. Fearless, she forges ahead to claim what she believes is her right.
“What’s happening to you?” Nora says. “You’re blocking me from your thoughts. Why?” Her face sho
ws anger and frustration.
“I’m having second thoughts about the Mulhog.” I pause. Her face tightens; she’s confused. “He may have sucked out the poison from my body, but there’s something bigger at play—”
“What are you saying?” she whispers. “The Mulhog wants to cook us up for dinner?”
“What does he gain from helping us?” I say. “Ever thought about that?”
“I do know if he wanted us dead, he’d have attacked us and let you die.”
“Mulhogs are smart creatures,” I say. “They like to lure their prey first.”
“You’ve read too much Norse mythology, Frederick.”
“That day in the Forbidden Area, the only reason he didn’t eat you was because the damned creature was alone.”
She furrows her brows. “He didn’t eat me because he knew I was a Goth. He’s hiding something.”
“The Garm Klan feast on their prey in groups,” I say. “It’s part of their—”
We stop, and I hear something in the distance, heavy footsteps closing in on us. I smell burning torches and spot fire flickering ahead. The flames get closer, and the warmth touches my skin. I make out a small crowd of shadows that are not humans, Mulhogs with loaded bows aiming at us. I catch a glimpse of their hungry jaws. I knew it. We’re going to die.
18
NORA
SOMETHING STRANGE IS happening to Frederick. He’s quiet. Something’s bothering him. Could it have been what I said or did before? Whatever it is, he needs to wait it out until we find the Rebels. We can’t slow down. Not now that we are closer to a way out.
I think Frederick is vexed at me for not listening to him, but I couldn’t help myself. Lately I feel changed, like I am wearing someone else’s skin—a thicker skin than I wore in the East. The skin of an assassin: someone that kills without guilt, without conscience. That doesn’t mean I have no emotions. It just means I suppress a lot. But I need to embrace who I am becoming if we are to get out of Arres.
My palm I keep closed, hiding what I think someone might see. Perhaps it was just Frederick who could not see the runes. One by one I release my fingers and open my hand. In the darkness they shine beautifully, like miniature suns. The runes glow, all nine of them. The force that’s hidden in these symbols is powerful and strong. It will open the gate to the Nine Worlds.
We’re up against the Triangle in the battle for Midgard, which belongs to us, and together we must create a new order. Much like my dad, I, too, have a need to form a world that is built on the pillars of justice and integrity. It is what I want, what I need. But first I want to understand what’s happening with Frederick. He’s blocked me from his thoughts and is not speaking with me the way he usually does. If the splinter in his mind grows, it could cause problems, and I am already feeling guilty for blaming him and never showing him the trust he deserved when it mattered.
When I ask him what’s the reason, he’s silent as a lamb. He says he’s afraid that the Mulhog is leading us into our death. I think the Mulhog has other intentions; he wants something from us. If he wanted to murder us, he would have attempted it when we were at our lowest point. Mulhogs are animals after all and like any animal, they are driven by their instincts.
My knowledge about Vikings and mystical creatures is not as good as Frederick’s. His background is refined and sophisticated, as he grew up in fine mansions.
My heart twitches. I miss Helena’s rationale, logic, and reason. I need her. She’d never believe what I’ve gotten myself into. Or maybe she knows and watches over me with Magnus who holds Odin’s eye. Does he see me? And does he watch over us as we follow the Mulhog, Gautam, into further darkness?
Frederick’s arm stretches out in front of me. I suck in the dense air and hold my breath and release it slowly like a dying balloon. Maybe Frederick was right. We shouldn’t trust Gautam. But I’d rather take a risk with this creature than being hunted by the mad emperor and his killer army. What will he do if he finds us? We’ve killed his assassins and legionnaires in the capital city. What other forces does he hold in the other lands of Arres? And will he use them to indict us?
The air burns, and darkness brings forth a glowing shade of light. Smoke dances like snakes. Several flickering torches become visible held by an angry looking mob of Mulhogs. A sharp arrow set against one of the Mulhog’s bows touches my skin. The pain is not what I fear, but what would happen to me should he release it.
“Why are you not taking us to meet the Rebels?” I ask. The question feels redundant because we’ve been fooled. I hope playing a little stupid will get me an answer that will turn in our favor. What if this is all a misunderstanding?
“We are the Rebels,” says the Mulhog, lowering the arrow set against my heart.
Frederick and I stare at each other in disbelief. “I’m Anid, the leader of the Garm Klan. You must be Nora Hunt and Frederick Dahl.”
“You’re the Rebels?” says Frederick.
I look around and there’s about five of them. “Where are your other Klan members?”
“We hide in a secret den deep underneath the ground, where it’s cool and safe from the Emperor and his legion of killers.”
“What are you doing in Arres? You belong in the Forbidden Areas,” says Frederick.
“Most of the Forbidden Areas are barren. Nothing lives for long there. This land belonged to our ancestors,” says Anid. “We’ve been trying to claim it back since the agreement made between the Garms and the Goths.”
“What agreement?” I say. “And why?”
“This is not the time to talk about the agreement; you will know more when you need to,” says Anid. “There are many other ways to enter Arres, but we’ve found a way out. You already know that Arres is indestructible. It’s the only world that will remain when everything else falls.”
“You want it back and want to overthrow the Emperor?” says Frederick.
“Help us, and we’ll help you,” says Anid. “You hold powerful weapons—”
“Forget about it,” I shout. My voice echoes in the empty tunnels. “I’ve already shed enough blood as it is.”
“You’re an assassin. Killing for justice should not matter,” says Anid. “But when you kill for lust, for desire—”
“That comes from you?” Frederick says. “You eat humans. You’ve killed women and children of Arres. The people here are frightened of you. They want you dead.”
“We cannot escape what lies in our nature, but we will take what belongs to us, and nothing is going to stop us,” says Anid. He looks at Gautam sharply. “Bring them to the underground. Nezma, the queen of the Garm Klan, wants to meet the two famous raiders from Jarl and Rognvald.”
Deep underneath Arres, the Mulhogs have created a secret underworld. We’re miles away from the whispering dunes moving like ocean waves in the warm wind. Here nothing moves; it stands still with time. We walk into a dank hole with a low entrance and ragged drapes that fail to serve as a door. Inside, light flickers from torches.
Anid places his hand on my back and nudges me further into a room. My grip around the weapons is tight, my palm burning and itching. What is this forsaken place?
It’s an eerie cavern, and rats skitter across the floor. Gautam opens a scraping door and guides Frederick and me forward. The cool air washes over me, sweeping away the clamminess of the desert heat. The rich smells of wood and smoke curl up into my nose, and it makes me think of the East. The face of the woman who raised me appears before my eyes. I stopped thinking about her. Her feelings toward me were not exactly motherly. I can’t say the same thing about Karen. She did show feelings when she saw me and embraced me as her daughter, but she also caused the mess to start with.
“Where’s your queen?” says Frederick impatiently. I look around. The room is dark. It’s hard to see anything. Red lanterns are glowing among the torches. It reminds me of the assembly in the Tower of Swords on the day Magnus announced that I was to lead the Jarls. “Well?”
A stocky, dark-
haired woman walks in, looking at me carefully. Behind her a group of Mulhogs follow, growling. I should feel afraid, but I am not. I am more curious than anything else. Why is the queen of the Garm Klan not a Mulhog? What conditions will she line up before we are allowed to return to the Triangle? I’m tempted to use the weapons to solve matters if I have to.
My battle is my own. I am not ready to win a battle that’s not mine. Justus Markus controls the vicious Goths that belong to the Mulhogs, but that is not my concern. Frederick and I are wanted in the Triangle; we’ll be outlaws. We have no alliance. The senate and the opposition I have reason to believe are all corrupt. Even if Arres is eternal, my interest is to open the gate to the Nine Worlds and pass into Midgard where I can live with Frederick. I have to gather strength, rest, and then face Magnus. It will not be easy. I already carry labels of betrayal and disloyalty.
Queen Nezma doesn’t say anything; she just glares as if assessing what our next move will be. She knows I have the weapons. Will she still demand we fight for her, or will she allow us to go home? Her eyes are pleading.
“Before you leave Arres, we will need your help,” says Queen Nezma.
“We could not help you,” I say. “Even if we wanted to.”
“We have to return to the Triangle,” says Frederick. “Time is running out.”
“From one battlefield to another,” says the queen. “What difference does Arres make?”
“We were not prepared to battle on behalf of anyone,” I say. “We have our own fight to win against forces much stronger than Arres.”
“We cannot hold you back,” says the queen. “But when the time comes, Nora Hunt and Frederick Dhal, the Mulhogs will not help you. Our alliance will be broken.”
“Why would we depend on your help?” I say. “You don’t owe us anything.”
“Garm and Goth made an alliance,” says Nezma.
“What alliance?” I say. That day in the Forbidden Areas when the Mulhog saw me, it didn’t eat me. It said, “must not eat Goth.” Could that have something to do with the alliance Nezma is talking about?