“Pity,” said Veethar.
“Come on,” said Farmathr. “Get aboard the platform, and let’s be on our way.”
Everyone looked at me—even Meuhlnir—and I wondered again when I was elected leader. “This isn’t up to me alone,” I said.
Mothi grinned and opened his mouth—no doubt to call me by a new nickname—but Sif elbowed him and made a face.
With a sigh, I stepped onto the platform, and the floor first flickered, then shone with a warm yellow light. Farmathr smiled and stepped on the platform after me. We loaded the horses aboard, dropped our packs, and everyone took a seat. “What now?” I asked.
Farmathr grinned and closed his eyes.
“Do we sit here and wait for something to happen or do we do something?”
Farmathr raised a lazy hand and flicked his fingers behind us. I followed his gesture and gasped. The platform was already moving, and the lights of the FTTN terminal were already far behind us.
“There’s no sound,” muttered Jane. “No engine, no electric motor, no wheels on a track.”
“No wind,” said Veethar.
“Isi is powerful,” muttered Farmathr. “Did I not mention it?”
“Was,” snapped Meuhlnir. “Isi passed from this realm thousands of years ago.”
“Did he?” asked Farmathr, sounding amused.
“Yes. Trapped beneath the surface by the Isir, he used the power of Nithukkr to bury himself in molten stone.”
“Did he?” repeated Farmathr. Meuhlnir scoffed and turned away from Farmathr, who seemed content to sit there with his eyes closed.
I glanced behind us; the FTTN terminal was no longer visible. “Whatever this platform is, it’s fast. I can’t see the terminal at all.” It didn’t even feel as if we were moving. In the dark tunnel, there was no way to measure our progress, and with no wind, there was no sense of speed.
I pulled my scroll case off my shoulder and considered it, tracing the gold inlay with my fingertips. The warm yellow light reflected from the floor of the platform through the gold tracery was soothing, relaxing.
“Put that damn thing away,” muttered Althyof. “If you need to play with the runes, let’s get back to the enchanting lesson.”
I got the spear and followed him to the back of the platform. He sat in one of the plush chairs, and I sat across from him.
“Is it as simple as carving the runes I’d otherwise cast during a trowba?”
“Is anything ever as simple as that?” asked the Tverkr with an arched eyebrow. “No, carving the runes is simply what binds the kaltrar to the physical object. The power comes from the three pillars of the art as we’ve discussed.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I may as well show you. Tell me what you wish this spear to be.”
“I want it to be a ranged weapon. Something Jane can hurl from above the battlefield.”
“So she doesn’t have to be within melee range, yes?”
“That’s it,” I said.
He nodded, and his eyes tracked forward to linger on Meuhlnir’s head. A sly grin spread across his face. “I know what to do.” He picked up the spear. “Here, let me show you.” He patted his pockets. “Do you happen to have a chisel?”
I was about to say no when I remembered the chisel Kuhntul had given me to change Kuthbyuhrn’s uhrluhk. I hadn’t thought about it since the cave, but I could almost hear her voice in my ear. Remember the chisel. Those had been her parting words before she flung me back into my body. I thought about it, and it appeared in my palm. I handed it to the master enchanter.
“It’s warm!” Althyof’s eyes widened. “Are you ever going to tell me about those damn dreams you had?”
In answer, I smiled as I imagined Kuhntul might.
Forty-eight
I flew above the crowns of the jagged Dragon Spine Mountains. The sun seemed frozen in one spot in the sky, but I raced north, faster than any bird had a right to fly.
On a whim, I glanced at the land whipping by below me. Something down there amidst all the jagged rocks paralleled my course north. Points of glowing light glinted off the thing’s scaled back. Whatever it was, it moved as a snake would—slithering in a serpentine motion across jagged rocks. Watching it made something in my belly twitch in a frisson of panic. It was huge, draping its body over peaks, stretching across ravines without having to climb down in them. When I glided over a break in the mountains—a natural pass defined by sheer rock walls on either side—the thing swung its great bulk out over the opening and flattened its body somehow, spreading its skin and catching the air. It was flying over the pass, but it had no wings.
Beneath it, snaking through the pass were thousands on thousands of men and animals—the part of the army of the Dark Queen that had harassed us on the coast. They looked up at the titanic snake-like thing flying above their heads and cried out in fear. The previously immaculate lines of marching men descended into chaos—trolls bellowing and charging around without rhyme or reason, men diving for cover, Svartalfar peering upwards and casting runes, demons hissing and crouching in place.
I flapped my wings harder, ascending, trying to get away from the giant beast below, hoping all the men in the pass would distract the thing—at least long enough for me to disappear. I swerved toward the east, leaving the mountains and gliding out across the flat, tropical plain below.
Behind me in the mountains, the snake-thing let loose a bellowing cry so loud that it sounded like the end of the world. I glanced over my wing, and a croak of surprise escaped my beak. The thing had coiled around a mountain peak, rearing up as a spitting cobra would, staring at me with burning, hateful eyes.
I turned north, following the coast, and the massive snake in the mountains began his pursuit again, always keeping an eye turned toward me. I tried to fly faster, but I couldn’t outpace the huge beast.
The sun burned overhead, and hot air surrounded me. Sea dragons frolicked in the water below, seemingly enjoying a game of “who-can-catch-the-bird.” They dove deep, then raced to the surface as fast as they could, leaping high into the air and snapping their jaws, even though they never came within a mile of me. They sang and cried to one another and sent those massive sounding clicks up into the sky at me. They were a fraction the size of the thing in the mountains and seemed to be mere animals while my pursuer from the peaks seemed to harbor a hateful intelligence.
I flew on, doing my best to ignore both, and time seemed frozen. The sun never moved, and the wind remained constant, though the animals and men moved at their leisure. Through the shimmer of distance and heat ahead of me, I could see the mountains crowding out toward the eastern shore, rushing right down to the edge of the sea. I thought about the thing in the mountains leaping from the cliff, flattening its body to catch the wind, and gliding as if the beast was at home in the air. I veered eastward, flying out to sea, putting more and more distance between me and the thing in the mountains. When I could no longer see it (though I somehow knew it was still there, still stalking me), I turned north again. I had no destination in mind, but the thought of flying any direction but north made my stomach rebel and nausea swirl in my guts.
I flew on and on, losing track of any sense of time, the wind buoying me, caressing me, relaxing me. In the distance, the continent of Kleymtlant—the forgotten land—squatted like a gargantuan reptile, like an alligator, or Komodo dragon. At the sight of it, dread sank its white-hot fangs into me and delivered its venom—burning, gut-twisting panic.
I didn’t want to go there—not for any reason. Something horrible lurked there, waiting for me, for us. I tried to turn around, but the wind buffeted me so violently that I couldn’t turn. The sea dragons below me cackled, and the thing in the mountains to the west uttered a gloating roar. I fought the wind, trying to angle away to the east, but it gusted, threatening to send me tumbling from the sky.
The tailwind blew harder, pushing me toward Kleymtlant’s rocky shore. The thing coiled in the mountains hissed with glee, and I panicked again, thrashin
g the air with my wings, twisting my body to and fro, screeching my fear to the heavens.
A relentless wind carried me across the border of land and sea, hurtling me north against my will, against my best efforts. Mountains loomed in front of me, and the great serpent’s eyes glinted there, watching me come. I fought for altitude, and this time, the wind didn’t resist. Climbing higher and higher, I put as much altitude between myself and the snake-thing as I could.
I rocketed over its head, and the thing roared in frustration. I sent a mighty crrruck of victory down at it. The wind carried me ever north, following the chain of mountains until I soared over a huge plain, almost walled in by the mountains. Behind me, the snake-thing’s ire rumbled like mountains falling into the sea.
By land, the plain had only one entrance—from the northeast, through a natural gate of sorts. The biggest army I’d ever seen guarded the gate. Thousands and thousands of legions of armored men, Svartalfar, trolls, and oolfa camped in close proximity to the gate. Tents stretched for miles, all surrounding a magnificent tent of red silk and canvas. Emblazoned on the tent was a sigil I’d never seen before, but knew nonetheless: a giant wolf’s head, half white and half black. The sigil of the Dark Queen herself, the sign of Hel.
As I watched, she burst out of the tent, eyes scouring the sky, as if she knew I was there somewhere but didn’t know my precise location. Short figures wrapped in black cloaks surrounded her, pointing in conflicting directions, laughing, and she swatted at them and shooed them away. I wheeled to the west and beat my wings against the air. I had no doubt she could do something to me, even dressed as I was, as a raven.
Cut into the mountains to the west was a cyclopean edifice. The plain had to be Pilrust, and the huge building was a place known as the Herperty af Roostum—the Rooms of Ruin. Behind me, something hissed and bellowed a roar.
I glanced over my wing. On the plain, next to her red tent, the short figures lay scattered on the ground, and Hel sprinted toward me, her steps lurching from side to side, body contorting. I watched, enthralled as she changed from a tall blonde woman into an immense black dragon.
I shrieked in fear and…
Forty-nine
I woke thrashing on the couch where I’d fallen asleep, panic and horror at war within me. My whereabouts penetrated the dream-fog, and I sighed, relaxing all at once. My body was screaming at me, my shoulders and neck so tense I didn’t think I’d be able to turn my head in either direction. Pain ate into every joint like a vile acid, and my eyes burned as if someone had filled them with salt. Next to me, the enchanted golden spear lay on the floor.
“Hank?” asked Jane, her voice groggy. “What’s wrong?”
“Farmathr!” I snapped. “Where does this damn platform take us?”
“Don’t worry, it’s safe.”
“No, I think you’d better tell me.”
“What is it, Hank?” asked Frikka. “What have you seen?”
“This particular path takes us to another FTTN stronghold, almost identical to the one we just left,” said Farmathr. “It’s the first stronghold in Kleymtlant, at the point where the Dragon Spine Mountains turn northeast.”
“On the east side of the mountains?” I demanded, the memory of my dream, the snake-thing flinging itself into the air, leaping unbidden to mind.
“No, the west side. Why?”
“What is it, Hank?” asked Meuhlnir rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Danger?”
I told them all about the dream, about the big snake-thing, the sea dragons, Hel’s army far to the north, blocking the only entrance into Pilrust. I told them about Hel changing into a black dragon and chasing me, shuddering at the memory.
Frikka nodded once, face solemn.
“You knew of this? Of her army?” demanded Meuhlnir.
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
Frikka turned her gaze to meet his, a bland expression on her face. “No.”
Meuhlnir shook his head, eyes awhirl with strong emotion. “I don’t understand you,” he seethed.
“It is no matter, Meuhlnir. Uhrluhk binds us.”
“But we could have prepared—”
“And,” Frikka continued, talking over him. “Uhrluhk can change.”
“Look, you two can argue this out later,” I said. “My immediate concern is whether this platform will dump us into the Dark Queen’s lap.” All eyes turned to Farmathr.
“Pilrust? No. This platform’s path ends 10 days’ ride to the southwest.”
“And does my sister know of this method of transportation? Or just Vowli?” asked Freya.
Farmathr shrugged and cut his eyes away. “Who can say what another knows?”
“That’s not an answer,” growled Mothi.
“And yet, it is my answer. In any case, it’s too late to worry about such things. There is no way to stop this platform or to get off before it reaches the end of its path.”
Trapped, I thought. Might as well be in a nice, gift-wrapped box. Kuhntul’s original warning flashed through my mind. A betrayer, she’d said. A traitor. Could it be Farmathr? From Meuhlnir’s face, I guessed he was thinking similar thoughts.
“Besides,” said Farmathr. “From the next station, a back way—a hidden way—leads to the place you seek.” He smiled with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And I know where it lies.”
“Without meeting the Dark Queen’s troops?” I demanded.
He scoffed with a sardonic grin plastered on his face. “Such unanswerable questions you lot have.” He held up a finger, as a minister might, mid-sermon. “But, but, I will say that I doubt this path will lead us into conflict with the Dark Queen’s army.”
It wasn’t much of a reassurance, but it was the best we would get from Farmathr. My irritation with the man grew, and so did the ache in my neck. I looked at Veethar and quirked my eyebrow.
“The big snake,” he said.
A small smile curled the corners of my mouth. The intuitive connection that was growing between us was similar to the one Jax, my old partner in the New York State Police, and I had shared. Thinking of him sent a pang shivering through me and stirred that pot of anger at Hel and Luka that I’d been suppressing.
“Without seeing it for myself, I can’t be certain.”
I nodded.
“The behavior you describe could be attributed to a lidnormr—a dragon of the stone.”
“Great. More dragons,” muttered Jane.
“Are we being pursued by the Dark Queen’s troops and one of these lidnormr?”
Veethar shrugged as if to say: it was your dream, not mine. He cut his gaze to his wife.
“Not necessarily,” said Frikka. “In dreams, even when they are not troymskrok, things may not be what they seem.”
“That’s helpful,” groused Meuhlnir.
Frikka shot him an angry look. “Shall I lie?” she demanded.
“What might this lidnormr represent?” I asked in the hopes of forestalling an argument between the two.
“A powerful adversary, a great evil, even Ivalti’s army.” Frikka shrugged. “Until we have a better understanding of your prophetic dreams, we must take the dream’s message to heart.”
“And what is that—if you are allowed to say…” said Meuhlnir.
“That despite the danger that follows us, we must not rush in blind.”
“Grand,” Meuhlnir muttered.
“Things are not clear at this time,” said Frikka.
“And if they were, would you tell us?” demanded Meuhlnir.
“Leave her alone,” said Sif in an iron voice.
Meuhlnir threw up his hands and stalked off toward the front of the platform.
“He’s a touchy one,” said Farmathr, with a derisive lilt in his voice. Sif glared at him, but Farmathr seemed not to notice.
“One thing is clear,” I said into the frigid silence. “We can’t go head-on against the army I saw camped at Pilrust.”
“No,” said Veethar.
> “So, unless one of you knows another way into the Herperty af Roostum, we must follow Farmathr’s secret path.”
“Don’t sound so grim,” said Farmathr. “Has this ride on the platform been uncomfortable? Dangerous? Was I wrong about the pursuing army being unable to follow us?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger and turned away. I walked up to stand next to Meuhlnir. He stared into the blackness we presumably raced into at great speed. The lack of wind, the lack of vibration, the lack of visual cues of our speed combined to make it seem as if we were standing still.
“I don’t like this,” he said.
“I know what you mean. I keep getting the feeling we are being herded, despite our best efforts.”
He looked at me askance, one eyebrow arched.
“The sea dragons made us travel overland,” I said. “After that, the tretyidnfukl on the walls of Suelhaym made us travel with Lottfowpnir’s caravan, leaving Kuthbyuhrn’s cave as the only way to get to the western side of the Dragon Spine Mountains, where the denizens of the Great Forest of Suel channeled us north, and Ivalti’s army kept us from going too far north, or from gaining sea transportation in the Stormur Syow—not that we’d want it.”
Meuhlnir nodded, stroking his beard. “And we rode east to avoid the ambush set by Ivalti’s army and ran right into Farmathr.”
“Yes,” I said. “And here we are, trapped on this platform, hurtling ahead into the unknown, an army at our backs and a larger army guarding the only direct route into Pilrust.”
“Again, pushing us into Farmathr’s waiting arms, so to speak.”
“Yes.”
“What do we do?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but grin. “I was going to ask you…”
He chuckled at that, but there was no mirth in his eyes. “We can fight our way through almost anything, but we can’t stand against armies of the size you’ve seen.”
“And we can’t pop open a proo and go around them.”
Blood of the Isir Omnibus Page 82