Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  “Don’t call for help, wimp!”

  Mothi rolled face down and threw his arms out to his sides. The puppies each took a hand in their mouths and growled. “Pinned again!”

  “Darn straight, Cousin Mouthy.” Sig let go and stood up, smiling from ear to ear. “Spoils to the victor!”

  Mothi reclaimed his seat, unable to stop smiling.

  I stared into the black maw of the lava tube’s entrance. It resembled a smooth-walled cave but ran straight into the mountain as far as I could see in a very un-cave-like manner. “I wonder how deep it goes.” The memory of the lantvihtir hissing around us in Kuthbyuhrn’s cave shouted in my mind.

  “I expect we will find out,” said Sif, coming over to stand beside me. “Do you need my…how did you put it…stinky goop?”

  “I said that in a moment of weakness,” I said with a curve to my lips. “But it does stink.”

  “Yes, yes,” sighed Sif. “I’ll add the scent of lavender next time.”

  “Oh…no, don’t add anything else, I beg you!”

  “Does my keen healer’s eye lie, or do you feel better than before we began your treatment with my non-poisonous version of your poison?”

  I thought about it for a moment. It was always easy to forget how bad my illness (or curse) made me feel once I had something that made me feel better. I rolled my shoulders and turned my head from side to side, testing the limits. “You know, I do. Much better.”

  Sif nodded once, staid but pleased. “Good. You will tell me if things worsen.”

  “I’ll moan and wail like an infant. That’ll be our secret signal.”

  She chuckled and went to stow her medical bag.

  “Dinner’s ready,” said Yowrnsaxa in a triumphant voice. “Hot food!” She carried two bowls over to where Mothi and Sig sat laughing and horsing around. “To the victor, the spoils,” she said, handing both bowls to Sig. Mothi’s aggrieved expression made everyone laugh, and Sig passed him a bowl, then looked down and exchanged it with the other bowl, which held less food, and we all laughed harder.

  The mood of the group lightened—Meuhlnir sat next to Frikka, and on her other side, Veethar pulled up a boulder with a small smile. Pratyi pulled a lute from his belongings and strummed a few chords, his bowl steaming at his side. Freya smiled and fed him a spoonful. Before long everyone was smiling and chatting away as if all the discord between us since the Dark Queen’s visit at Freya’s estate had never happened. Even Althyof smiled at Pratyi’s playing and tapped his foot.

  Jane leaned against me. “It’s nice to see them all like this again.”

  “Yes,” I said. I glanced in the direction Farmathr had taken away from camp, and for a moment, I thought I could see a pair of eyes gleaming from outside the circle of firelight.

  Fifty-two

  I woke with the sun pouring down on my face like water. I stretched, luxuriating in its warmth, and feared I wouldn’t get much sun over the next few days. The camp was busy—the ruckus of getting packs tied to animals, the jingle of harness, and the yapping of playful puppies filled the air.

  I opened my eyes and sat up, a smile on my face. The fire was going again, and over it, Yowrnsaxa had grilled a little spiced meat and baked camp bread. My mouth watered, and my smile widened.

  “About time you woke up,” said Jane.

  “Why don’t you bake fresh bread for breakfast, like Yowrnsaxa?”

  “I’ll bake your bread if you’re not careful.”

  “Promises, promises.” I grabbed bread and meat, making a breakfast sandwich. Farmathr had returned after I’d fallen asleep, and he stood next to the lava tube’s entrance, tapping his foot with impatience. I nodded at him and flashed him a smile, and he looked at me but didn’t smile back. “Still grumpy, is he?” I murmured to Jane.

  “Oh, boy, do you have a gift for understatement. I thought I would have to kill him to stop him from waking you up.”

  “Am I so fragile?”

  She cocked her head to the side and treated me to her patented “Jane-look,” which was designed to let me know when I’d said something egregiously stupid. “Do I need to answer out loud?”

  “No, dear.”

  “Good answer. Now, eat your breakfast and get ready to ride—we’re waiting on you, not the other way around.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Good answer, part two.”

  “Oooh! Dad’s getting schooled by Mom,” said Sig, in a teasing, lilting voice.”

  I grinned at him and took a huge bite of my breakfast. Next to the lava tube, Farmathr sighed, long and loud.

  After I’d finished eating, and performed my morning tasks, we mounted our horses and walked them into the lava tube, which was tall enough to permit us to ride the horses, and still have enough room for another horse and rider on top. The tube was as wide as it was tall, and we could ride four abreast.

  I rode next to Althyof, with Yowtgayrr and Jane on my other side. One glance at the Tverkr told the story of my future: a tongue lashing for trying to combine saytr and stayba runana. “I know I did what you told me not to do, but—‍”

  “But? There are no buts.”

  “Hear me out. I learned the Gamla Toonkumowl and the runes in a dream, right? The dream.”

  Althyof nodded.

  “Well, that knowledge…plus what you said about the Dark Queen, led me to try what I did.”

  “I told you not to try any lausaveesa without me at your side. I warned you about the dangers.”

  “You did, but in my defense, I didn’t try a lausaveesa. What I tried to do was augment what I could do by weaving, with the power of casting the runes.”

  He stared at me with a smirk twisting his features. “And what is the difference?”

  I thought about that for a time, head down. “Well, in the middle of the battle, a clear distinction seemed to exist, but now…”

  “You’re lucky, Hank, that it didn’t kill you or Slaypnir.”

  “So, despite knowing the runes, I shouldn’t be too quick to put ‘master’ into my invocation.”

  Althyof scoffed and rolled his eyes.

  “Well, that seems clear enough. We’d better have more lessons. That prickly bastard back there in the desert won’t be the last danger we face on this quest.”

  “I should hope not,” said Althyof. “That would be boring.”

  We rode in silence for a little while, and I don’t know about the others, but the wonder of being inside a tube melted straight through solid rock by magma had me a bit flummoxed. One of the others ahead of us had summoned light, so the details of the tube were plain. I could see the ripples in the stone walls that had been caused by the currents within the flow—wavy lines tracing from the ceiling to the floor, resembling the ripples in the sand at the bottom of a clear lake.

  “Hank, if you will allow an observation?” said Yowtgayrr.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “Farmathr seems…” The Alf shrugged. “He seems to withdraw from us. Not only by walking away from camp last night, but there is something else…”

  “Yes, I’d noticed, but I don’t see what other choice we have. We can’t face the army I saw arrayed in my dream, and that’s the only entrance to Pilrust that anyone else remembers.”

  Yowtgayrr nodded. “It needed to be said, though, and he bears watching.”

  “Covertly,” said Jane.

  “Yowtgayrr, I know your oath is to protect me, but—‍”

  “My oath extends to keeping an eye on threats. The next time he leaves us, I will be ready.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  “No thanks necessary. It is my duty.”

  Althyof blew a raspberry and chuckled. “So formal, so duty-bound. What do you Alfar do for fun? Spelling contests?”

  Yowtgayrr looked at him with an eyebrow quirked. “You would not understand what we consider fun. It is beyond someone of your limited…vertical reach.”

  Althyof leaned forward in his saddle, bending at the waist so he
could look past me at Yowtgayrr. “Short jokes? Really? That’s all you can come up with?” The Tverkr shook his head. “I had such hopes for you…”

  “One uses the materials at hand,” said Yowtgayrr through a smug smile.

  “The path forks ahead—veer to the right,” Farmathr called.

  Once we made the turn and had traveled a short distance, the quality of the light changed giving the walls of the tube a golden sheen. The air, also, was warmer and the smell of sulfur hung in the air like storm clouds in the winter sky.

  “Um, is he leading us through an active volcano?” asked Jane in her oh-my-god-I’m-freaking-out voice.

  Althyof chuckled. “Don’t worry, my people have long known the—‍”

  “Way to handle super-heated magma as it swirled around your knees…” I finished for him.

  “Well, perhaps that is a little—‍”

  I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing. “Is that better than short jokes?”

  “Perhaps,” he said with a wink.

  “I’m serious,” said Jane. “How could he travel through an active volcano? The heat alone—‍”

  “It’s not that hot,” said Althyof.

  “What isn’t?”

  “Lava. You can walk on it, scoop it up with the right tools.”

  “Are you insane?” asked Jane. “You can’t walk on lava, you’d burst into flames.”

  “Not at all. My people have extensive experience with the substance. We build with it; we use it in our forges. With adequate preparation and precautions, lava is useful.”

  “I’m not sure if this is one of your jokes,” said Jane.

  “Certainly not,” said the Tverkr. “I have walked across a lava flow and cracked into it with an axe. I put a bucket into the molten flow beneath it and brought out lava.”

  “You’ve walked on a lava flow?” she asked.

  “Yes, and with good boots, so can you.”

  Jane looked at me and shook her head. “If you say so, I’ll believe you, but—‍”

  “I do say so.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll show you if we come across a suitable flow.”

  “Okay, Althyof,” Jane said quietly.

  We rode on, into the heated current of air that smelled more and more of sulfur. The orange glow continued to get stronger. We stayed in the same tube for the rest of the morning, riding on, chatting about innocuous subjects.

  When we took a break for lunch, Farmathr remained in his saddle. “I will ride ahead and scout our path,” he said, meeting no one’s gaze.

  I glanced at Yowtgayrr, and he nodded and dismounted. We all wanted to stretch and move around a little, and I, for one, was ravenous. Yowrnsaxa made sandwiches from the left-overs from breakfast.

  Althyof chuckled. “Jane, if we find a suitable flow, I will cook you a meal in it.”

  “What? Won’t it burn?”

  “Remember: precautions and preparations,” he said with a smile.

  Farmathr rode on, and after sketching a line of runes in the air, Yowtgayrr faded into invisibility. “Be careful,” I whispered.

  “What’s going on?” asked Meuhlnir.

  “Yowtgayrr will follow our friend. See what he’s up to.”

  “Why?”

  “To see what he does.”

  Meuhlnir shrugged. “It’s warm here.”

  “And getting warmer. We think this tube might take us to an active volcano.”

  Meuhlnir scowled. “I hate the heat.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “That’s it?” demanded Jane. “’I hate the heat’ is all you have to say about it?”

  Meuhlnir glanced at me and shrugged. “What else should I say?”

  “I don’t know… Maybe: ‘Let’s stop following this strange man.’”

  Meuhlnir tilted his head to the side and gazed at my wife, eyes twinkling with amusement. “He’s your husband.”

  “What? Oh, no, I meant—‍”

  “He’s teasing you, dear,” said Sif. “It’s what he does when he doesn’t have a good answer.”

  “To be fair, it’s what he does regardless of the quality of his answer,” said Yowrnsaxa and Sif nodded, a playful smile on her lips.

  Yowtgayrr returned as we were finishing our meal. He squatted next to me, back against the curved wall of the tunnel. “He’s a strange one,” he whispered.

  I arched an eyebrow at him.

  “He did no scouting. He rode down the tunnel a short distance and sat there on his horse, staring straight ahead.”

  “That’s it?”

  Yowtgayrr nodded. “He didn’t eat and he didn’t drink. He didn’t even talk to himself.”

  “Strange.”

  Yowtgayrr nodded again and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  At that moment, Farmathr cantered back from his “scouting” mission. “We must move,” he said.

  “And why is that?” drawled Meuhlnir.

  “Trouble is coming ahead. We must beat it past the crossroads—the only way to the tunnel we need—or we will be cut off.”

  Yowtgayrr tilted his head back, lips pressed into a grim line. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Can’t say,” panted Farmathr. “But it’s big, and it’s angry.”

  Meuhlnir cleared his throat and glanced my way. “If you don’t mind my asking…uh…how do you know?”

  Farmathr turned on him with a flat expression and narrowed eyes. “Is my word again in question?”

  Meuhlnir held up his hands, palms out. “No, no—nothing of the kind! I’m just curious.”

  Farmathr’s face flushed, and though he smiled, it wasn’t a genuine smile. “There are…currents…or something like them to this place. I can sense…an eddy.”

  “Interesting,” said Veethar keeping his gaze on the floor.

  “Yes?” asked Farmathr, but Veethar only shook his head and waved him away.

  “What creates these ‘currents?’” asked Freya.

  Farmathr lifted his shoulders and let them fall.

  “Come, Farmathr,” said Yowrnsaxa in a warm voice. “Dismount and let me make you a sandwich from this fine smoked meat.”

  “Did you not hear me?” Farmathr scratched at his jaw, mouth slack. “We need to move.”

  “Yes, I heard you, but you need to eat. Aren’t you hungry?”

  As Yowrnsaxa spoke, I found Meuhlnir’s eyes on mine as if the conversation between the two had significance far beyond the inanity of the words.

  “I, uh, ate while I scouted. Come! We must hurry.”

  With a slight shake of my head, I lifted my eyebrows at Meuhlnir, and he cut his eyes toward Farmathr. I glanced at him, and found his eyes on mine, burning with an emotion I couldn’t place.

  “If our guide says we need to move, we need to move,” I said. As if they’d been waiting on my decision, the others sprang into action, packing up what little we’d used during the break before mounting. Farmathr nodded in my direction, seeming somewhat mollified.

  I climbed onto Slaypnir’s back with a suppressed groan and tried to settle myself into a comfortable position. The idea that we’d be riding faster over the next few hours than the gentle walk we’d enjoyed in the morning made me long for our hot tub back home. I looked up from my preparations and met Farmathr’s gaze. “When you’re ready, Farmathr.”

  With a quick nod, Farmathr turned and took off down the lava tube, pushing his horse to gallop. The rest of us jounced along behind him.

  We spent the next few hours alternating between a gallop, a canter, and a walk, and I must admit that Farmathr did a great job of managing our horses and not overworking them.

  Entering the area that Farmathr had obviously meant when he said “the crossroads” was akin to riding into an open oven. The air currents caused by convection helped, but as the air coming at us was hot, it still wasn’t pleasant. The chamber was the circular joining of several tunnels—or perhaps it would be better to explain it as the origin of several horizontal lava tu
bes, including the one we’d followed from the surface. A shelf of igneous stone ringed one half of the room, and the other half showed a descent into hell—a glowing pit of rock that led to a lava pool. The lava was thick and viscous, and it bubbled and popped like mud releasing swamp gas. The air quality—besides being almost too hot to breathe—left a lot of room for improvement. It stank of sulfur and the sharp, acidic scent of carbon dioxide.

  Farmathr pointed at one of the more distant lava tubes, one that continued to the east but also had a slight descent to it. He stepped his horse out into the crossroads, hugging the outside wall. Runes were scratched into the stone floor in an arc six feet or so from the cold-side wall—runes intended to manage the temperature and to keep the air clean from the more acidic gaseous emissions from the magma beyond.

  “Hank! Is this safe?” asked Jane.

  I pointed at the runes inscribed on the floor and nodded, not wanting to open my mouth and lungs to more of the heated air than necessary. We trailed through the room, sweat bubbling from our pores, breathing in shallow gulps—almost panting—eyes squinted almost shut against the heated, acrid air, intent on our destination.

  Halfway to the other tube, Keri and Fretyi thrashed in their saddlebags, barking and snarling. A low-frequency rumble reverberated through the crossroads, vibrating in my stomach and chest like a high-volume bass line at a heavy metal concert.

  “Hurry!” yelled Farmathr, giving his horse the spurs.

  With the lightest touch of my heels to his flanks, Slaypnir leapt to follow. I darted glances over my shoulder as we tore through the room, darting between the other lava tubes and the pool of bubbling magma in the center of the cavern. The magma bulged, creating a convexity in the center of the pool that stretched upward like taffy poked from underneath. “What is it?” I yelled, but no one answered.

  The image of the lidnormr from my last dream filled my mind. The idea that the colossal, snake-like thing I’d seen following me through the mountains was real sent shivers of irrational fear racing through me. My mind painted the image of a huge head breaking the surface of the magma, maleficent eyes boring into mine, monstrous maw opening wide to emit waves of fire or magma across the party. But the dome of magma was still growing, still stretching like a soap bubble, quivering, threatening to pop, but still intact. We’d almost made it to the lava tube we needed when the bubble popped, filling the cavern with noxious fumes.