Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  “Andardowhtur kuthadna!” commanded Veethar, and the hurricane-like winds filled the sails again.

  Three

  I carried Jane down the gangplank and onto the docks. Her head lolled with each step, and she hung as limp as a rag doll in my arms. Sig trotted next to me, concern-filled eyes on Jane’s slack face, laden down with his pack and his mother’s.

  Meuhlnir arranged rooms for us in the tavern next to the docks, and I took Jane straight up the narrow stairs and lay her on the bed. Sif followed on my heels. I stepped back, worried that she hadn’t even twitched during the entire process of disembarking the ship.

  Sif put her hand on my shoulder. “All is well, Hank. She sleeps and will awaken when her body is ready for her to do so.”

  I nodded, not taking my eyes off Jane’s face.

  “All is well,” repeated Sif. “There’s nothing more to do. She will be fine.” She looked me over, assessing my condition, gaze darting from my face to my stance, to the hunch of my back. I’d grown used to such looks in the years of my illness, first from Jane, and, since we’d been in Osgarthr, from Sif and Jane. Sif reached into her ever-present bag and pulled out the small container of foul smelling ointment she dosed me with when my Personal Monster™ got the better of me. She raised her eyebrows.

  “Not yet,” I said. I still hadn’t gotten over what Jane called the Calculus of When—the feeling that I needed to conserve things that worked to reduce my pain and discomfort, only using them when I absolutely had to. I didn’t think Sif’s cream would fade away as the drugs from Mithgarthr had, but the lizard part of my brain didn’t care what I thought.

  Sif’s gaze drifted to Jane’s unconscious face. Sif’s face settled in an expression I recognized from previous conversations. “You’re no good to her if you’re laid up next to her, Hank.”

  “Oh, all right,” I muttered. Stress, my ever-present enemy since the Dark Queen’s curse wrecked my life, had taken its toll during the battle with the sea dragon and the flight back to the safety of the harbor. My worry about Jane only acted as cement to the always present stiffness in my joints. My back hurt as if I’d been in a car wreck, and my knees didn’t want to bend.

  Sif closed the door and said, “You know what to do.”

  I stripped off my outer layers and my shirt and pants. “How come you never run out of that smelly stuff?” I asked.

  Sif put her bag on the foot of the bed and pushed me toward the room’s only chair. I winced as I sank into it, weary and sore. Sif shrugged. “You need it, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I sighed as she worked the cream into my shoulders and neck. The ointment worked by overloading the neural pathways that conducted pain and irritation. It burned like menthol sports cream, but more so.

  “I’m still working on the substitute for your poison, though I have made little progress. But I still object to the process on principle.”

  “Yes, I know you do, but I don’t know anything else that works as well as the methotrexate.”

  She grunted and smeared the noxious-smelling cream into my knees. “I’ve been thinking about that. This poison, this methotrexate, it doesn’t seem that its poisonous qualities are what affect your curse.”

  “No?”

  “No. I think it’s another effect. It reduces inflammation, and that improves your condition.”

  “If you say so,” I said. Sif hadn’t gone to medical school, but I’d put her up against anyone who had, any day of any week. She understood things about our bodies because she could see them—she saw what made them go astray and had the herb lore to set them straight again.

  “I do. Maybe I don’t need to duplicate this foul poison. It could burn your lungs, you know.”

  “I do,” I said. Methotrexate was a chemotherapy drug, and in large doses, it caused horrible side effects. “But I don’t take enough of it for that to happen.”

  “Oh, is that so?” The sarcasm dripped from her voice.

  “According to Western medicine.”

  “And you know what it’s doing to your kidneys? Your liver?”

  “No,” I said. “When I was back home, I had to do monthly blood tests to watch all that, but here…”

  “Here, you must rely on me. Your kidneys are recovering nicely since you ran out of the stuff.”

  “Perhaps, but you’ve seen how much worse I’ve gotten.”

  Sif grunted. “I suggest we try an experiment.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I suggest you stop thinking and let me do my work. I suggest you leave it to me for two months. You do what I tell you, you take the preparations I make you—no matter how bad they taste—and we see how you do. Do you agree?”

  “Will you continue to work on the methotrexate-substitute while the experiment runs?”

  She stooped to work on my knees and treated me to an awkward shrug. “Of course. It will be our backup plan.”

  “Then there’s no downside.”

  “Good. I hope to get you doing better without risking your health.”

  “Now that’s a novel concept.”

  “Yes, well, I can’t speak to the practices of the healers in your klith, but here, we try not to poison our patients.”

  “What is this great idea you’ve been working on?”

  She clicked her tongue. “This great idea, as you call it, is a chemical made in certain glands of pigs, a blend of herbs, minerals, vitamins, and a little vefnathur to bind it all together.”

  “And what does it do?”

  “Curtails the urge your body has acquired to inflame its own tissues at every turn.” She pulled me out of the chair and turned me, so she could work the cream into the small of my back.

  “So, it’s an anti-inflammatory? And the chemical sounds similar to a glucocorticoid. Prednisone.”

  “I have no idea about that gobbledygook you just spouted, but, yes, it’s a potent anti-inflammatory—like your poison, but without the poison.”

  “I’ve tried crazier things,” I said.

  Sif swatted my backside. “You needn’t try it if you think you know best.”

  “No, no,” I said. “I’m happy to rely on your knowledge.”

  “You’d better be since as far as I can tell, my ‘smelly ointment’ does more than that cloak for your mobility.” She put the lid back on her little jar of miracles. “I’ll see if I can buy the chemical extract here in town. If not, I can buy a supply in Suelhaym. I need to shop there, at any rate, to buy Dragon’s Kiss so I can formulate something to replace the dwindling supply of your pain pills.”

  “Either way, the anti-inflammatory will be a relief. I should have brought more methotrexate, but I never thought I was going on an extended stay to another planet. To be honest, I believed I would either die in that cave or be back home by dinner.” I shrugged and flashed a rueful smile at her.

  “It’s no matter. We can make efficient substitutes.” She grinned at me. “Or better. Now, let’s get you downstairs before my husband makes a mess of things. I’ll stay with Jane.”

  I pulled my clothes back on and said, “But he’s so good at that.”

  “And you’ve known him such a short time!” Laughing, she shoved me toward the stairs and closed the door to my room behind me.

  We gathered around a big table in the port-side tavern’s private dining room. A fire burned in the large stone fireplace, and dirty sunlight streamed in through the grimy windows on either side. The Alfar looked groggy, especially Skowvithr, who’d awakened a few minutes earlier.

  “And how is Jane?” asked Frikka.

  “According to Sif, she’s recovering. She needs rest, that’s all,” I said.

  “Good. But returning to our conversation, I say we should go overland,” said Althyof. “I’d rather walk than get on that flimsy craft—or one like it—ever again.”

  “Time, however, is not on our side,” said Meuhlnir. “If not for the sea dragon, we’d be over halfway to Suelhaym by now.”

  “My point,” said Althyo
f. “What is a collection of sticks compared to the might of a sea dragon? Nothing but kindling.”

  Meuhlnir puffed out his cheeks and let the air whistle between his teeth. “Yes, but—‍”

  “No buts, Isir. What I said is the truth and nothing else.”

  Meuhlnir glanced my way, his posture stiff, lips pinched together to form a fierce frown. “What do you have to say, Hank? By ship or by land?”

  “Why did it attack?” I asked.

  Veethar nodded at me, face set in grim lines. “That is the question.”

  Meuhlnir rubbed the back of his neck as if he’d slept on it wrong. “Is it? Does it matter?”

  “Of course, it matters,” said Yowtgayrr.

  “If she sent it to harry us, it’s one thing,” I said. “If it’s a random attack, an innocent attack if you will, we can assess the risk of returning to the sea, but if the Dark Queen sent the beast at us, the risk is one hundred percent.”

  Mothi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, drawing a frown from Yowrnsaxa. “If she sent the beast, won’t she send something else if we travel by land?”

  “Maybe,” said Frikka, pulling her lip. “But maybe not.”

  “Why not?” asked Meuhlnir. “If her point is to harry us, why not harry us on land?”

  “She may want to delay us,” said Veethar.

  “Yes, and it could be that going overland is slow enough she’ll leave us alone,” said Frikka.

  “You’ve seen this?” asked Meuhlnir.

  “Look, we still don’t know if she even sent the beast,” I said when Frikka looked down at the table without speaking.

  “That’s the beauty,” said Mothi. “Whether she sent it or not, we are delayed, and we delay ourselves further sitting here arguing the point. She has as much time as we allow her to set up a trap in Suelhaym.”

  “But would she?” asked Meuhlnir. “Would she risk her sister’s wrath?”

  “As much as I love her, Freya has never been one to stand up to her sister,” scoffed Yowrnsaxa. “Do you not recall our last trip to Muspetlshaymr?”

  Meuhlnir’s face darkened. “Do not think I forget.”

  “Then you know Freya may not like what her sister does, but she will allow it.”

  “Even now?” asked Veethar. “Even after the war?”

  Frikka tapped the table. “I think not.”

  “You think not, or you know not?” asked Meuhlnir. When she didn’t answer, Meuhlnir leaned back in his chair, tugging his beard. “Just once, it would be nice to have a straight answer,” he muttered.

  “This is pointless,” said Mothi. “We can’t know if she sent the sea dragon or not…or if she’s trying to delay us to set a trap in Suelhaym.”

  “We could find out,” muttered Meuhlnir.

  “Stop your sulking,” said Yowrnsaxa, but she smiled to take the sting out of the words.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s look at it another way. Is there any chance another captain will agree to take us to Suelhaym now that the story has no doubt spread across the dock?”

  Althyof scoffed. “Not likely. I wouldn’t.”

  “Yes, but you wouldn’t be a ship captain, either.”

  “No.”

  “What’s the real difference in travel time?”

  “Had we left from our estates, we would now be a day away from Suelhaym,” murmured Veethar.

  “But, we didn’t. We came here and spent a day getting a ship and another day loading and killing sea dragons. So, from here, how long by horse, and how long by ship?” I asked.

  Mothi scratched behind his ear. “Getting another ship—if we can, given the pod of sea dragons in the area—loading our luggage and getting underway, those could each take a day or more. The voyage itself would take two or three days, depending on the weather.”

  “And the sea dragons,” said Yowtgayrr.

  Mothi nodded.

  “Veethar? By horse?”

  Veethar looked down at his lap. “We are marginally closer here, and we can follow the coast road. Three, or perhaps four days of hard riding.”

  “Even with young Sig, here?” asked Yowrnsaxa.

  “Yes, I think so. Young Sig is becoming quite a horseman.” Veethar’s lips twitched at my son, and Sig smiled his widest smile.

  “Then the easiest route is by land,” I said.

  “I wish we’d—‍” started Meuhlnir.

  “We didn’t,” said Veethar.

  I inclined my head. “Done is done and wishing won’t change it. The time we spent on the sea route is gone, we have to move on.”

  “I’ll go see about getting the horses cared for until Jane wakes.” Meuhlnir stood and darted a quick look at Yowrnsaxa. “Are we adequately provisioned for traveling by land?”

  Yowrnsaxa’s gaze swept around the room, and she stood. “I think we could survive, but I’ll purchase a few more things.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Frikka.

  “Good,” said Meuhlnir with a glance in my direction. “The rest of you should try to rest. We all have rooms upstairs, and we can’t leave until Jane recovers in any case.” Meuhlnir grimaced as he rose and tromped toward the door.

  “I’ll come with you,” I said.

  “Make sure the horses don’t outwit him,” said Mothi with a grin.

  Meuhlnir grunted and pushed out through the door.

  I pushed away from the table and went after him. By the time I got over to the stables, Meuhlnir was already finished and standing outside, waiting for me.

  He stopped and shook his head. “I’m not happy about the sea dragons.”

  “Neither am I, but we survived.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Meuhlnir gestured with his chin, and I turned to look at the mouth of the harbor. A stone breakwater bordered the harbor, and in its opening to the sea, the water moiled, stirred by the cavorting of sea dragons. Geysers of water splashed the rocks on either side, and beyond the disturbance, large wakes creased the water. I whistled.

  “Indeed,” he said. “But the dragon’s pod heard its call.”

  “Do they normally act this way?”

  “You mean, ‘do they pursue a ship for leagues and then guard the mouth of the harbor the ship took shelter in?’”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “I’m not an expert on sea dragons, but I rather doubt it.”

  I nodded my agreement. “Should we do something about this? The port can’t function with these monsters swimming around.”

  Meuhlnir rocked his head from side to side. “The real question is: Can we do something about this? I don’t know the answer to that question.”

  “What will happen if we leave without clearing the danger away from the port?”

  “I would assume that, if the Black Bitch sent these creatures, when we leave town, they will lose interest, or maybe even follow us up the coast if we travel close enough to the water.”

  “And if they weren’t sent by her?”

  “They will forget why they are there in a short time and swim away.”

  I scratched my chin, looking at the waves made by the pod of water dragons. “Are they… I might have misunderstood, but Friner was…well, smart.”

  Meuhlnir arched his eyebrows.

  “Are these sea dragons smart? Can they reason?”

  “I’m not sure anyone knows how smart they are. To my knowledge, no sea dragon has ever been bound—despite what the Tverkr said. And yet the one your wife killed acted like it understood our intentions whether it understood the language or not.”

  A stable boy came over and tugged on Meuhlnir’s sleeve. “All done,” he said. Meuhlnir ruffled the boy’s hair and slipped him a piece of silver.

  “Come on, Tyeldnir, our work here is done.”

  “Oh, no, not another one.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Meuhlnir. “I heard the stable boys refer to you thus.”

  “And it means what? Loud person? Noisemaker?”

  “No,” he said between guffaws. “It m
eans ‘wand bearer.’” He pointed to Kunknir and Krati in turn.

  “They’re not wands.” Even to myself, I sounded silly.

  “No, they are not. But to these boys, they are.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that by nightfall everyone will be calling me Tyeldnir?”

  Meuhlnir affected innocence. “Why, I have no idea, Yarl Aylootr.”

  “Does no one ever forget anything in this place?”

  Meuhlnir laughed again. “No. Haven’t my wives taught you anything?”

  Four

  Being a one-eyed man, wearing a dark cloak and a floppy hat had its advantages—the inhabitants of the port town all knew who I was. The karls and thralls of the port town stayed out of my way when they could, and when they couldn’t, they bent over backward to help when I asked for it.

  By the time Jane came around, and Sif pronounced her fit enough to travel, a day and a half had passed, and our party was scattered to the four winds. Even with the help of two scullery maids and three boys, it took an hour and a half to get everyone rounded up and ready to travel.

  None of us had seen Althyof, who had disappeared in search of “supplies,” and it took forty-five minutes to find Althyof—and two of the three boys, plus myself—plus another forty-five minutes to make him sober enough to stay on a horse. I thought Meuhlnir would come out of his skin as we looked for the Tverkr. I’ve not heard such profanity since the last time Jane almost hit a car on I-590 back home. He hid his impatience about as well as a hyperactive four-year-old, and by the time we got Althyof straightened out, I feared for Meuhlnir’s life at the hands of his wives.

  We’d ridden north on the field-stone paved coastal road from the port town at a slow pace, both in deference to Jane’s recovery and to Althyof’s woozy head. After a few hours, Sif had insisted we stop for the day and allow Jane to rest. The sea dragons followed us along the coast, cavorting in the waves, and hissing at us every now and again.

  “Guess that answers that question,” grumbled Meuhlnir.

  “My question is this…”

  “Yes…Tyeldnir?”

  “Funny,” I said. “If sea dragons have never been bound, how does the Dark Queen control them?”

  Althyof grunted. “Control them? She doesn’t control them. She points them in a direction and tells them to go have fun.”