They came to a building guarded by a pair of rough looking men armed with long knives. They each nodded at Ulrich before stepping out of the way, and Henry's gaze was drawn to a strange design carved on the door. Curved lines intersected with each other in ways that his eyes couldn't follow. The pattern seemed to shift as he looked at it. In one second, it looked like an eye, and the next like a tree. Then, it shifted again and looked like a wave moving across the wood. His head started to hurt, and he looked away. The door creaked as Ulrich pushed it open. They walked into a stark room with bare wooden floors. Lanterns lined the wall, and a one-eyed statue that Henry could only assume was Odin stood in the middle of the room. Once inside, Ulrich seemed to relax.
"We can speak freely now."
"What is going on here?"
"This building was to have been a new home, but when we went into the woods looking for lumber, we found the door already made with a strange carving and a raven perched atop. It said this was the door we were commanded to use for the new building. That night, I had a dream that you would come and that we should give you all possible aid, but that we should discuss nothing outside the walls of this building lest our words become known. That day, I discovered everyone in town had been given the same dream."
Henry waited for more, but Ulrich was apparently done. He kept glancing at the door, as if worried about what lay beyond it.
"That's it? Everyone is staring at me because of some bird and a dream?"
Ulrich inclined his head. "A man does not lightly ignore messages from the gods."
"Why are they trying to help me? Or is it just Odin who wants to do that?"
"Milord, they are a mystery. I would not presume to guess at their motives. Such is not for ordinary men."
Henry sighed. He obviously wasn't going to get much useful information out of Ulrich, but the raven had led him here for a reason. He looked at the thatched roof and imagined the peak beyond.
"What's on the mountain?"
"Hind Mountain? It's only rock and snow, so far as I know," Ulrich said cautiously.
"That's it?"
Ulrich thought for a second. "There's an old stronghold of some forgotten king, but that hasn't been used for as long as anyone can remember."
"Can you send someone to guide me?"
Ulrich shook his head. "It's near the peak, if the stories are true. None of us have ventured that far. We can take you, perhaps, halfway up, but we've had little reason to explore higher. It's cold enough to kill up there. Even treasure seekers and adventurers don't try for that fortress."
"Yeah, I didn't think it would be that easy. How soon can we go?"
"Milord?"
"I have to find this fortress."
CHAPTER 17
The villagers provided him with a hot meal and a warm bed as well as a leatherworker to repair the straps of his shield. The next morning, they gave him a pack of fresh supplies and outfitted him with climbing gear and heavy furs. A burly, fiery haired man named Olaf, offered to guide him.
Olaf was practically a gorilla. He was a foot and a half taller than Henry and had to outweigh him by at least two hundred pounds, all muscle. Even so, the man flinched every time Henry so much as glanced at him. Henry couldn't help but wonder at the dream that had inspired these people to help. After two days of climbing, he asked Olaf about it, the big man paled and started to shake. It probably hadn't helped that Henry had discarded his heavy furs that morning in favor of the thin cloak Hephaestus had given him. It had protected him from heat once when he'd been thrown into Medusa's cook pot and seemed just as effective at warding off the cold.
Snow began falling on the third day. Olaf started to look down the mountain but didn't say anything. Once, Henry stepped on a patch of snow that he thought was solid, but he slipped and almost tumbled down. Olaf caught him, and they continued the climb. On a couple of occasions, they came across vertical sheets of ice that had to be climbed, and Olaf instructed Henry in the use of ice picks and the spiked soles that could be strapped to the bottom of his boots. The big man would go first, and let down a rope to make the climb easier for Henry. On the fourth day, the weather trapped them in a cave. Henry couldn't help but think of the time he'd been stuck in a shack in the middle of the world of winter with a brother who had never been born. That seemed like so long ago. The storm finally let up two days later.
"We should go back, Master Henry," Olaf said.
Henry shook his head. "I need to make it to the top."
Olaf looked up the mountain. The way ahead was covered in snow. The clouds obscuring the peak were still high above. Lightning flashed, and Olaf shivered and shook his head.
"It's too dangerous, sir. This is a bad time to try this. Maybe if the weather were clear..."
"I don't think there's ever going to be a good time to try what I'm going to do," Henry said. "Go back down. I'll find my own way."
"But the gods..."
Henry rolled his eyes. "I'm sure the gods will forgive you. Do you have any idea where this fortress might be?"
"Near the top is all I've heard."
Henry nodded and turned away and began walking away. He looked over his shoulder after he'd gone a few yards, but Olaf was already gone. The only sign of him was a trail of footprints leading down the mountain.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was a strange feeling to push through the waist high snow. He knew it was cold, but that was an intellectual sort of knowledge like you might know the snow on TV was cold. He didn't actually feel it. He moved steadily upward, keeping an eye on his hands to make sure he didn't get frostbitten, but the cloak protected him completely from the cold. The wetness of the snow, however, was another matter.
He hadn't gone very far before his legs were soaked, though in the absence of the chill, it was more an inconvenience than anything else. Finding a dry place to sleep was an exercise in futility. The first night alone, he slept under a rock ledge, but woke up around midnight when a light snow started to fall and almost buried him alive. He found shallow caves when he could, but they were increasingly rare. The people of the village below had given him plenty of supplies, and there was nothing to do but keep pressing onward.
Two days later, he came to a sheet of ice at least a hundred feet tall with no obvious way around it. It was far larger than any other obstacle he'd face and the first time he'd had to do it without Olaf. He strapped the spiked soles to his hard leather boots and pulled out a pair of ice picks. Slowly, he made his ascent, kicking into the ice to make footholds even as he drove the picks into the wall to drive himself up. The equipment he'd been given was more than equal to hold his weight, but he hadn't anticipated how much effort it took to pull himself up the wall. Most of the strain was on his legs, and before he'd gotten halfway up, his calves were on fire. Every time he jabbed an ice pick higher and pulled himself up was like moving a mountain instead of climbing one, and he found it increasingly difficult to kick into the hice. He breathed heavily, but the increasingly thin air sapped his strength. After another ten feet, he saw a small ledge above that looked just wide enough for him to sit and rest for a while. He scrambled up until it was almost in reach. He jabbed with an ice pick, trying to get it deep enough to hold him, but as he stabbed, the ice under his other one cracked, and the pick came free. For a second, he tried to lean forward, in the hopes that the spikes on his feet would hold him, but it didn't work, and he came free. His cry was cut short as a hand shot down from the ledge and closed around his wrist. The gnarled fingers had a vice-like grip, and he thought they would rip his arm out of its socket as they pulled him onto the ledge.
Henry collapsed, breathing heavily for several seconds before he looked up at his rescuer. The man stood at the mouth of a cave that hadn't been visible from below. He was covered in heavy furs, and a long white beard reached halfway down to his chest. His hood shrouded his face in shadows, and the only feature Henry could see was a long nose poking out.
"Thank you," Henry said.
"It's generally not considered wise to go climbing by yourself."
The deep voice spoke slowly and pronounced every syllable precisely. Henry found himself standing up straight and dusting off his shirt before he even realized what he was doing.
"I didn't do it deliberately, but no one else would come this far."
"It would seem your friends are wiser than you."
"I've never really been accused of being wise," Henry said as he pointed up the mountain, "but I do need to get up there."
"It's dangerous up there."
Henry put his hand on his hilt. "I can take care of myself."
The man looked over the ledge. "Evidence suggests otherwise."
"Just who are you?"
Through the shadows, Henry could see the faint hint of a smile. "I am but a simple traveler headed up the mountain."
"Why don't I believe you?"
The man shrugged. "Perhaps because you are not entirely bereft of wisdom."
"Thanks," Henry said flatly. "Why are you headed up? Didn't you say it was dangerous on the mountain?"
"Dangerous for one alone, but I am not alone anymore am I?"
Henry pursed his lips, and looked the hooded figure up and down. There was something about him Henry couldn't quite put his finger on, something unmistakably powerful. Henry knew without a doubt that this man was more than he appeared. Of course, what else could an old man found in the middle of an ice cliff be? For the hundredth time, he wished he knew more about Norse mythology. Maybe then he'd be able identify this man. In the end, it didn't really matter. If this man was offering to help, Henry wouldn't turn him away.
"What's your name?" Henry asked.
"You may call me Bragi."
"Well, Bragi, do you happen to know where this cave leads?"
"To the top of this cliff."
"Let's go then."
CHAPTER 18
The frozen walls were as smooth as glass, and the floor was slick enough that Henry had to walk slowly to avoid falling. Even the ceiling looked more like crystal than ice. Though they left footprints behind them, there were none ahead, which meant Bragi had either climbed down the face of the cliff itself, or he'd just appeared on the ledge. Henry didn't know which was more likely.
Bragi carried a dim white light that looked like an emberstone, though Henry wasn't sure how that could be since Bragi wasn't a dwarf. The light reflected off the tunnel walls and filled the air. Bragi, who seemed to have no trouble walking on the frozen ground, mumbled under his breath as they walked, and Henry caught only the occasional word. Whenever Henry tried to talk to him, Bragi glared at him, and Henry could feel his gaze even through the shadows masking his face. After another hour, they reached end of the cave. Immediately, Bragi went to a large rock. He paused briefly to brush away some snow and examine the ground. Then he stood up and began walking up a steep path. After a few seconds, he turned to Henry.
"Are you coming?"
"Do you actually know where you're going?"
"To the keep at the top. I assume that's where you're going too, as there's nothing else on this mountain."
Henry nodded, and Bragi turned and continued to walk up the path. Henry went to look at the rock, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Bragi disappeared around a bend, and Henry rushed after him.
The way, while not easy, could hardly be called difficult. In some places, it looked like the ground had been leveled out. They didn't always take the most direct path, but they avoided any steep incline.
"Of course," Bragi said when he mentioned it. "This keep was built by men, and it was built for war, but it had to be supplied. Roads were laid out. When the men left, the mountain started to reclaim the roads, but the marks men leave on the land do not fade quickly."
"How long ago was that?"
Bragi scanned the ground for a second. "Some thousand years or so."
"How is it you know about it, then?"
"I make it a point to know the past."
"Well, that was cryptic," Henry said. "How much longer until we reach the keep?"
The old man pointed up the mountain. As if on command, a cloudbank parted, revealing a fortress of grey stone. Peaked towers rose at two of the corners. The other two looked to have crumbled. One of the walls had a wide crack running through it, and a thin tendril of smoke floated up from somewhere in the building. The remnants of a bridge sat on either side of a gorge before the main entrance, its center having long since fallen. They were still too far to be certain, but Henry thought he saw people moving on top what remained of the walls.
"How far is that?" Henry asked.
"We could make it to the bridge by the end of the day. There's a small footpath that winds down and then back up to the gate, but it's not something you'd want to do at night unless you had to."
"Like if you're going against a fortress full of enemy soldiers and you don't want to be seen?"
"If you don't want to be seen, why would you go through the front door?"
"Is there another way?"
"It was built for war, but it wasn't built stupidly. The lord who lived here always had a way to come and go without being noticed."
"Doesn't Idun know about it?" Henry asked. Instantly, he regretted his words. He hadn't told Bragi anything yet, and for all he knew, the old man was on Idun's side. Bragi, however, only shook his head.
"She would if she knew to look for it, but she's grown overconfident, and she doesn't see as much as she should."
"You seem to know an awful lot about these things."
"And you know less than you should if you truly want to oppose her."
"You're avoiding the question."
"You didn't ask one. Come, no one has used that passage in a long time, and we'll have to clear out some rubble."
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because you can stop her," Bragi said before turning off the road and heading into the snow.
Henry stared after him for a second before following. The old man forced his way through the snow as if it wasn't there. Henry noted that he didn't seem to get wet, but in light of everything else, that seemed like such a minor thing.
As Bragi had said, fallen rocks blocked the back of the cave. Henry would've thought it was just another cave, but some of the stone in the blocked passageway had definite signs of being worked.
They worked at it the rest of the day, and by the time night fell, they had opened a small hole in the top of the cavern that was just wide enough for them to squeeze through. The passage on the other side was long and dark, but the stones were obviously cut. Bragi's emberstone did little to banish the darkness.
"You know, I was told only dwarves could use those."
"Dwarves are infused with the power of the earth, and their stones feed off that. It's harder for others, but it's not impossible if you know the way of it."
The gravelly floor crunched under their feet, and in a couple of places, the ceiling groaned and bent downward. They rushed past those places, and in another few hours, the passageway ended in a solid wall. Bragi ran his fingers along it until he found a stone looser than the others. He pressed it in, but nothing happened.
"Sorry," he said as his fingers wandered over other stones. "It's been here a long time, and more stones than the key have shaken loose. Here it is."
The stone beneath his hand clicked. Loose rocks shook free of the ceiling as the wall ground open and revealed an empty cellar. Several barrels had rotted and their contents had long ago evaporated leaving only the occasional patch of mold as a sign of their passage. A handful were still whole, and dark liquid dripped from one and ran to a grate on the floor, filling the room with a sour scent. Cobwebs ran from one end of the ceiling to the other, and a trio of spiders fled when the light of Bragi's emberstone fell on them. They moved quietly, but in this silent place, every step sounded like a hammer beating on stone. A loose strand of webbing brushed against Henry's face and he yelped. Bragi turned to glare at him, and though he cou
ld see even less of the old man's face than before, Henry shrank back from him.
"This place isn't as empty as it appears," Bragi said in a voice Henry had to strain to hear. "I don't think you want to bring the whole keep down on us."
Henry nodded and took a shaky step forward. They climbed up a stone stairway to a door that had long ago fallen off its hinges. It had to be after dark by now. After all he'd done, Henry knew he should be tired, but the ever-present danger kept his heart pounding. The empty castle reminded him of the one he'd kidnapped Andromeda's father from once. He'd entered that one through a secret passage too. Of course the difference was no one had been there but a pair of men guarding the king. He'd seen more than that walking the walls of this place, and he could only imagine how many people the keep held. They wandered through a maze of halls for the next quarter hour before they saw the first signs of habitation.
"Guards patrolling the hall?" Henry asked as Bragi examined the tracks in the dust.
"So it would appear. It means we're getting close."
They hurried past the tracks. The halls beyond were still dusty, but it was a thin layer of dust instead of the thick carpet that caked the ground behind them. Arcs on the floor in front of doors told them which had been opened recently. Bragi moved past these with casual indifference. Once, when they saw a group carrying torches, the pair dove into a side passageway and Bragi shoved his emberstone into his furs. They waited in silence. Henry had to hold his breath to avoid breathing in the dust they'd thrown into the air. Unlike most of the warriors Henry had seen, these guards were slender and moved lightly on their feet. The guards passed without noticing them, and the pair went on their way. Finally, Bragi came to a stop before a simple wooden door with nothing to distinguish it from those around it. Though firelight flickered beneath it, the dust in front of it said no one had opened the door in several days. Without waiting for Henry to say anything, Bragi pulled open the door, and Henry's breath caught in his throat.
The room contained more treasure than the lair of the dragon Nidhogg. Mountains of gold coins were piled up on either side of the door and ran all the way down a room that could've doubled as a baseball stadium. Fires burned on ornate bronze braziers, though the smell of smoke was curiously absent from the air. Precious stones dotted the area. Jewels and objects made of gold and silver were scattered throughout the room. He'd never seen such splendor. He wanted to reach out and take it. A dim part of his mind recognized the feeling as the same one that had once almost made him take a bite of a poison apple. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to beat back the compulsion. He tried to keep ahold of himself as he opened his eyes. A gleam of red caught his attention. A large ruby, at least as big as his head, sat in outstretched hands of the statue of a fat man casting crimson lights on the wall. Henry found himself staring into it. For an instant, he resisted the urge to go for it, but then the firelight hit it just right so that the stone seemed to glow, and Henry's self-control vanished. He took a step forward and tripped over a jeweled encrusted dagger. The ruby held his attention so completely that he barely felt it when he fell. He got up and walked closer. Bragi shouted something, but it was a distant thing, and Henry ignored it.
Mimir's Well (The Oracles of Kurnugi Book 3) Page 7