The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  Kees, Asbjorn, and Beornheard all nodded vigorously in agreement.

  “Good, because this is what we are going to do,” said Margret. “You say there are still areas of Trondheim you have not searched. Those then are the areas you will take me. We will poke the hornets’ nest, see what flies out. Because if the assassins have figured out a way to keep out your cats and rats, then they have exposed a weakness, because if they do not allow your children in, fearing all spies, they have given us a clue as to the vicinity of their guild.”

  “When do we start?” asked Liulfr.

  “Now.”

  CHAPTER 24

  King of the Goblins

  Farling was speechless.

  He had expected the corresponding portal rune to be in another mountain with dwarves. He had thought perhaps that Jakobus wanted to show everyone the latest enchanted weapons the dwarves had forged. Instead, the room in which they appeared was cavern-like as they were deep underground. The ceiling was so high, Farling could not see it as it was lost in shadow and darkness. But mostly he figured the reason he could not see the ceiling was due to all the smoke from the burning torches and braziers.

  There was a great deal of space around the portal rune, about 40 feet in width, essentially a larger circle. Bordering that were houses, poorly made, and so tightly built there was only the thinnest of alleys and spaces between them.

  But it was not the room or the ramshackle buildings that shocked Farling—it was the people who stared back at them. And if Farling was surprised by what he saw, the people working in this village deep underground were just as shocked by the sudden appearance of Midgardians and dwarves in the middle of the portal rune.

  And as Farling’s vision cleared and became used to the darkness, it was not people who stared speechlessly back at them, but creatures, human-shaped, almost like ogres, but not as large, and a different hue of green.

  Several of the women and children by now had dropped their baskets and run down the thin alleys, while the rest stared back stoically.

  Farling looked to Jakobus to see if he was worried. But the dwarf king merely took another sip from his tankard and appeared calm.

  Farling whispered to Arastead: “You can activate this portal rune if need be, can you not?”

  “I might be able to,” he replied, “but I would rather not have to, first try and everything with a dwarf portal rune. It is different, and I am not used to it.”

  Before they could decide, a group of warriors appeared holding ragged spears and rusty swords. They menaced everyone in the portal rune as best they could.

  One of the creatures made an odd noise, and the group of warriors parted, allowing one of the larger creatures to walk through. He stared at everyone in the portal rune.

  He was dressed in clothes that appeared fancier than what the other creatures wore, even the warriors. A crown of sorts adorned his head. A metal staff that may have held jewels at one point, tapped the floor.

  “Welcome, King Jakobus,” said the leader of the creatures in a language Farling could understand, but just barely. “We did not expect you.”

  The voice was unlike any sound Farling had ever heard. Even Mage, when he spoke, did not quite sound like this.

  Jakobus grunted, said: “I had guests and I wanted you to meet them.”

  The ruler, his face not betraying any emotions, said: “King Jakobus, if you would do me the honor of introducing me to your guests.”

  Jakobus belched. Then: “Of course, what bad manners I have.” He then named everyone in the group, and everyone tilted their head ever so slightly in acknowledgement of their name.

  “And this,” continued Jakobus addressing everyone in the portal rune, “if you have not already realized, is the king of goblins.”

  The goblin king, his voice flat and without emotion, said: “I do have a name, King Jakobus.”

  Jakobus grinned. “Of course, the drink affects my manners. Everyone, this is Grillsnak, king of the goblins,” he said.

  Grillsnak tilted his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement of his name, the same as everyone else had done.

  He said: “What can we humble goblins do for the king of dwarves and the kings of Midgard?”

  “Nothing,” replied Jakobus.

  Farling was impressed that Grillsnak did not move a muscle and waited patiently for Jakobus to say more.

  He did not have to wait long.

  “Grillsnak—” started Jakobus.

  “King Grillsnak,” interrupted one of the goblin warriors, holding a rusty sword.

  Jakobus shrugged. “King Grillsnak, I know our two peoples once warred for generations. Children were born in war, grew old in war, and war is all they knew. That ends today. We will have peace in this realm.”

  Grillsnak said: “A fine statement, King Jakobus, but an empty one. You may not remember, as your bloodline has lived in Midgard for generations, but I remember. I was there, I fought, I bled: dwarves attacked, slaughtered my people: men, women, children.”

  Jakobus scoffed. “Those are not the words in the history books in my vast library,” he claimed.

  “Books are written by the victors,” said Grillsnak. “Dwarves burned all the books in our libraries, looted our treasures, destroyed our homes.”

  “I am not responsible for what my ancestors did,” said Jakobus, “but I am responsible for what I do now. And I will end our wars before they start. Arastead.”

  “Huh?” Surprised, Arastead did not understand why Jakobus had said his name.

  Jakobus’s voice was stern. “Blacksmith, come here.”

  Arastead looked to his friends for guidance, but they both merely shrugged, not knowing what Jakobus expected.

  Arastead shrugged, then walked over and stood beside Jakobus, who said: “Show King Grillsnak your ring.”

  Embarrassed by this turn of events, Arastead did as directed.

  Grillsnak held Arastead’s hand, squinted and stared at the ring. Said: “Well made, well designed. I congratulate you on forging a fine ring, King Jakobus.”

  “Do you not recognize its runes and bind-runes?” asked Jakobus.

  Arastead heard Grillsnak growl ever so slightly deep in his throat as he gently held Arastead’s hand and squinted harder at the ring. Arastead was surprised by how warm his hand was, and how it felt human-like enough that if he closed his eyes, he would not know it was a goblin who held his hand.

  Grillsnak sniffed. “Many runes,” he said. He gently let go Arastead’s hand. “Many, many runes. And many bind-runes I do not even recognize. Even my feeble necromancers may not be able to recognize and name them all. Still, I must ask you, King Jakobus: Why show me this?”

  “Because that ring contains all the spells of the Book of Princore,” said Jakobus.

  This close to the goblin-king Arastead saw a flicker of recognition as well as fear in his eyes. Grillsnak quickly hid his emotions then looked lazily at Arastead.

  “Wizard,” he began, “I recognize your cat as a familiar, a follower of Galdr, patron god of wizards. Did you know Galdr can see through the eyes of your familiar? I see you do. There is much goblin-lore we possess, that which was not burned during the dwarf-wars. Stories passed down from father to son, from mother to daughter. Galdr can use his familiars much as spies to assist his favorite wizards. What is your familiar’s name?”

  “Peg,” said Arastead.

  “A fine name,” replied Grillsnak, “short for Margret I assume.” Arastead held his breath. “Your familiar enhances your magical abilities, allows you to draw from the Midgard Serpent for wizards are followers of chaos. But that ring you wear, and all those spells from the Book of Princore, now you may draw on the magic from Yggdrasil. One day, your powers may even rival the mythical Sorceress those pesky elves are always going on about.”

  In a low and serious voice, Arastead said: “A Sorceress will be born in your lifetime, King Grillsnak.”

  Grillsnak’s eyelids fluttered but not in surprise. “The Norse re
alms really are in for a shock,” he said. His eyes narrowed in thought as his voice dropped in confidence: “The elves must be pleased.”

  “The Sorceress does not live in Alfheim,” replied Arastead.

  Grillsnak allowed himself a small smile, which, even though it was small, was horrific to behold.

  His voice was then full of scorn. “You dwarves think you may control the Sorceress?” he demanded.

  “She does not live in the dwarf realm,” replied Jakobus. “She will be born in Midgard.”

  Grillsnak sighed. “These are interesting times,” he said. “Now, King Jakobus, why else do you show me this ring?”

  “Arastead, if you would be so kind,” he answered, “please give King Grillsnak a demonstration of your new magical abilities.”

  Arastead gulped as he had never drawn magic from Yggdrasil. “What shall I do, King Jakobus?” he asked.

  Jakobus waved his mug, spilling his mead. “A demonstration of the might of your new ring,” he said.

  Arastead thought for a moment, then nodded. “OK,” he began, “everyone, stand away from this spot,” as he pointed at an area between the portal rune and the buildings. “King Grillsnak, if I may ask a question of you.”

  “What would you like to know of me, Midgardian?” demanded Grillsnak.

  “Your Highness, how is the water quality in this village?” asked Arastead.

  Grillsnak’s eyes blinked. “To be honest, Midgardian, the water we draw from our underground creeks and springs is foul,” he said. “We boil and strain it before we may drink it.”

  Arastead’s eyes sparkled with his idea: “Your Majesty, then let me help you and your people.”

  Arastead closed his eyes. He made a fist of the hand that held the ring and pointed it at a spot on the open ground. Peg’s eyes flashed green eldritch and this time, so did Arastead’s.

  A hole materialized in the ground and widened several feet. Bricks appeared from the ground like fast-growing plants and assembled themselves into a circular wall around the hole. Beads of sweat appeared on Arastead’s brow but his concentration never wavered.

  “Almost done,” he murmured.

  The wall around the hole grew several feet high, as the bricks assembled themselves into the proper shape.

  “Just a few more moments,” continued Arastead as he then opened his eyes. “There, done. King Grillsnak, a new well for your people with fresh water, clean enough to drink.”

  Grillsnak motioned to his warriors to inspect the new well. A bucket with a long rope was handed to one of them, and they lowered it down the well. The warrior felt it touch water, let it fill, then pulled it up, hand over hand. Once the bucket was up, he sniffed then tasted it.

  “It is good, My King,” said the goblin warrior, his eyes wide in surprise. “It does not taste poor, nor reek of disease.”

  Grillsnak acknowledged the statement with a nod. “Wizard, a fine display of your new ring’s power,” he said. “I think I have seen all you wanted me to see, King Jakobus.”

  Jakobus coughed, then belched. “We will be on our way then,” he said, wiping his mouth.

  “A fine gift for the opening of this realm,” said Grillsnak. “On behalf of the goblins, I thank you, Arastead. Know this wizard, wearing that ring, you are now a Mage. And I am glad to see at least one person remembered to bring a gift for the opening of a realm.”

  Jakobus ignored the slight. “It is time we return.”

  Everyone made sure they stood within the portal rune. Farling felt the familiar wrench of travelling by portal rune. The goblin cavern swirled and blended and disappeared, and in a few moments, the dwarf room swirled and clarified into view.

  Arastead held his head.

  Noticing, Grum said: “And here I would have thought you would now be an expert at travelling by portal rune.”

  “Grum, a little sympathy for our friend,” said Farling. “He did just try something new with his magical abilities.”

  Arastead smiled. “No need to stand up for me, Farling,” he said. “The day Grum’s jibes actually land a punch on me is the day I am in trouble.” He breathed deeply. “There, good as always. I could use some food and drink, though.”

  Grum laughed. Then: “Finally, someone who speaks my language.”

  CHAPTER 25

  The Assassins Guild Found

  The sun set as Margret and Beornheard ran down an empty alley. For his size, the were-bear was surprisingly fast and did not tire. Even though Margret ran as fast as she could, he kept pace, his breathing even.

  During the day, Margret and the were-beasts had investigated several buildings quietly that the rats and cats refused to enter. Margret had used her authority as an Aarlund princess to investigate these buildings, but found nothing suspicion. Even her enchanted circlet had not alerted her to any danger.

  And so she figured that the last building must hold the assassins guild somewhere, perhaps the basement, perhaps somehow behind a hidden door. Even the possibility that the guild was only available by a portal, like the thieves guild, had crossed Margret’s mind.

  Margret and the were-beasts had sketched out a plan for the night’s event. They had to know if the building held the assassins guild, and there was only one was to find out: They had to break in and had to find proof. Without proof, the were-beasts would not get their potions. Without proof, Margret would not be able to point the Dennland knights in the right direction. Just what type of proof would be needed, Margret was not certain.

  Margret chose the alley as it had high buildings on either side with few windows and no torches. If there were any assassin sentries in those windows, it would be difficult to see her, not only because of the darkness, but also because Margret had borrowed the three elven cloaks that rendered the wearer practically invisible: one for her, one for Beornheard, and one for Liulfr. Kees and Asbjorn had their rats and cats arrayed in such a manner that they would be warned if anyone saw them and take proper action.

  Speed was of the essence and everyone ran as fast as they could. Margret and Beornheard down the alley, Liulfr, Kees, and Asbjorn running over the rooftops, looking for any sentries, anything that would tell them the location of the assassins guild.

  Margret had not told Nas where she was going as he was not a fast runner anymore. Perhaps Nas had been quick when he was younger, but he was not young anymore. She knew he would not let her go, nor let her put herself in danger if he was not around to protect her. She was also mindful not to let him access her thoughts, and so deliberately did not try and think of him, worried she might accidentally try and communicate with him using her enchanted circlet.

  Margret and Beornheard left the alley then sprinted across the road and laid themselves flat against the eight-foot wall that encircled the building.

  Looking up at the buildings and the alley they had just exited, Margret first saw Kees, then Asbjorn, then Liulfr appear on the rooftops. They quickly made their way down the buildings, grabbing on to windowsills and other building structures, then dropped the last 10 feet easily.

  Everyone spoke in low tones. Margret spoke first: “As planned, Beornheard stands guard here. If none of us escape by morning, he is to go and tell Nas.”

  “If you are to stand here,” said Asbjorn to Beornheard, “then best if you let me wear your elven cloak.”

  “No,” said Margret. “People will be walking by, not many, but anyone of them may raise an alarm. Beornheard must stay in the shadows. If he does not move, and wearing the elven cloak, he will be nigh impossible to detect.”

  “Then he best not burp or cough,” said Asbjorn.

  Margret looked over at the alley. As if an invisible line had been drawn, the dogs, cats, and rats refused to cross the road. She was impressed at the control the were-beasts had over their animals as there was no fighting amongst the animals.

  She asked: “Can anyone tell from here if we are in the right place? Can anyone smell anything related to the assassins?”

  Liulfr sniff
ed. “I smell the poison they use,” he said, as he had the best sense of smell among the were-beasts. “It is an unusual fragrance and they try to hide the smell along with the smells of the kitchen.”

  Margret demanded: “Why would this building have cooking this late?”

  Liulfr grunted. “Princess, you do not recognize the building?” he asked. “No, it is the School. It is the place where boys and girls learn how to read, write, proper manners, and a trade.”

  Margret was incredulous. “This then is the place where Grum and Arastead learned how to become blacksmiths?” she said. “You say Grum and Arastead were taught by assassins?”

  Liulfr shrugged. “From what you have told us,” he began, “these assassins, the so-called Black Hand, are masters of disguise. They can change their voices, their appearances, all without magic, so that you cannot detect them with your circlet: Truly, a perfect disguise. One assassin you said had been working in the thieves guild for years, and no one had thought differently. They have infiltrated many guilds I suspect, and the School is no different. This time though, the actual guild, where they train and hold meetings, may be in this building somewhere.”

  Beornheard said: “I heard the School has many empty rooms, empty building wings.”

  Asbjorn shook his head in mock disbelief. “Must have heard it in some pub,” he said.

  “They might be in one of those empty buildings then,” said Margret, “still hidden.”

  “I would guess under the kitchen somehow,” said Liulfr. “They can hide the smell of their poison by mixing it in with the smell of cooking.”

  “A good guess, but still, we need proof,” said Margret.

  “We will find something that will prove the existence of this Black Hand,” said Liulfr. “I tire of this weakness that assails my body. I wish to return to my full were-wolf strength.”

  “We will need to be careful as there will be innocents in the School,” said Margret. No one acknowledged her. “I said, no one who is not an assassin will be harmed.”