Perkelmir growled.
“Oh, quit complaining,” said Althyof. “It’s as good a name as any!”
“And you expect us to take this?” asked Hrokafutlur. “To roll over?”
Mothi smiled, and it sent chills down my spine. “You could object,” he said, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders.
“Threats?” mused the Svartalf, but he said no more about it.
“You will want time to consider your options,” I said.
Althyof shook his head. “I don’t need any. The Tverkar are with you.”
“You don’t need to talk to your people?” I asked.
“Done and dusted,” he said with a smile. “We don’t appreciate anyone interfering with our internal arguments, Plauinn or Tisir.” He glanced around and shrugged when he didn’t see her.
“And the Alfar,” said Skowvithr. “We stand with Konungur Isakrim.” At his side, Yowtgayrr nodded.
“You’ve spoken with Roorik, the Voice of Tiwaz?”
Yowtgayrr nodded. “He sends his congratulations.”
“And Freyr?”
Skowvithr nodded. “I have. He sends his thanks to ‘that Tverkr,’” he said with a small smile for Althyof, “for sharing my brother’s last moments. He also sends greetings to you, Konungur Isakrim.”
I nodded. “Fair enough.” I turned my attention to the other races, the other Isir still undecided. “And the rest of you?”
Surtr shrugged. “Not much of a choice.”
“And yet you must make it.”
Hrokafutlur nodded. “The Svartalfar will stand with Osgarthr.”
That surprised me, but given the choice I’d offered them, maybe it shouldn’t have. In the end, about half of the Briethralak Oolfur stayed true to Hel and Luka, and the others renounced their oaths to her and were welcomed home. Most of the races came to our side, the notable exceptions being the trolls, who sided with the frost giants rather than Hel, and some of the so-called demon-races who were so strange I could barely understand them, anyway.
I left Althyof and the others to oversee the thrall collar fittings, to convey the people who had refused my offer back to their homes and then close those preer behind them, and I walked into the forest. I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Nornir since the fight with Owraythu.
After a few minutes, I emerged from the undamaged part of the woods into one of the paths Owraythu created while chasing us. The forest was already healing. Heaps of ash and charred logs still lay in clumps almost everywhere I looked, but there were already sprouts of new ash trees poking through the ruin. Keri sniffed the fresh shoots and wagged his tail.
“Yeah, that is pretty cool, isn’t it, Keri?”
He looked up at me and seemed to smile.
“The trees here are special,” said Kuhntul.
Keri and Fretyi alerted and stared into the forest on the other side of the path of destruction. She emerged from the shadows, wearing a pale blue dress. A band of silver held her blonde hair in place. She’d never appeared in that guise before, and as she was, she could have been Freya or Hel’s sister.
“That’s a new look,” I said.
She batted her eyelids coquettishly. “Do you approve?”
“Kuhntul…”
She laughed and waved her hand at me. “You’re no fun, Tyeldnir. Can’t we even flirt?”
“No,” I said, softening it with a smile.
“Does Jane know how loyal you are?”
I nodded. “I think she does.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her next time I see her.”
I glanced around and encompassed the destruction with a wave of my hand. “How long will it take for these scars to disappear?”
“Time can be funny here.” She pointed off into the forest to the east. “Back that way, there is a part of the forest that exists in a different timeflow from this part.” She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “It’s all part of life at the Conflux.”
I nodded. “Speaking of life at the Conflux, where are the Nornir?”
The bell-like tones of Kuhntul’s laugh chimed through the trees. “Those old hags? They are around.”
“I still need to speak with them.”
“They fear you, Tyeldnir.”
I shook my head. “They should fear you and your sword, not me. Besides, they have nothing to fear from me, provided they don’t interfere. But I need to speak with them about the changes that I must put in place here.”
“Changes?” demanded Urthr’s voice from somewhere in the trees. “That is impossible.”
“And yet, there will be changes,” I said.
“No, there will not! You are nothing but murderers,” said Verthanti, stepping from the trees a ways down the scar in the forest and glaring at us. “Both of you!”
“Kuhntul,” I said in a voice of iron, “draw your sword.”
Metal hissed against metal as that blindingly bright blade came out.
“Nornir—no, forget that. Plauinn, hear me. You’ve seen what this blade can do. Do you believe you would survive where Owraythu fell?”
Nothing but silence answered me.
“Good,” I said. “Here are the new rules. You now work for me, and your job description has changed. From this moment onward, you will monitor uhrluhk for changes, but you will do nothing other than reporting the changes and the possible effects of those changes to me, or to a person I name. You no longer decide anything! You will no longer correct or in any other way manipulate the skein of fate. You will not share information about the skein of fate to other members of your race. Tell me you understand.”
Urthr stepped from the trees next to Verthanti and added her glare to her sister’s. Skult appeared on the other side of the charred avenue and sighed. “I understand,” she said. “I will speak with my sisters.”
I shook my head. “Not good enough. I need your acceptance—all three of you.”
Skult sighed once more. “My sisters resist change. It is their nature.”
“And not yours?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I recognize necessity. Verthanti senses what comes into being on the horizon, Urthr is rooted in what once was. Do you see?”
“I do, but I still need them to accept this. The Plauinn have declared themselves the enemy of the Isir, and every other race that exists in the universe. I—”
“Not all the Plauinn side with Mirkur!” snapped Verthanti. “He and his sister are the tyrants of the underverse.”
“His sister is dead,” I said. “Mirkur is on his own now.”
“As you say,” murmured Verthanti.
Skult took a step toward me. “Others among the Plauinn disagree with the way things are. Bikkir, among them.” She glanced across at her sisters. “We three, as well.”
“In that case, agreeing to my terms should not pose a problem.”
Skult nodded. “No, it does not. Sisters?”
“Very well,” said Verthanti, looking away.
“I… I will not go against the will of my sisters. I agree,” croaked Urthr, and it was as though the words were pulled from her by brute force.
“That’s fine. You may return to your campfire with my blessing.”
Skult glanced down at the ash under her feet. “Perhaps we will allow the campfire to fade from this place. It’s seen enough fire for a time.” She raised her gaze to Kuhntul. “Do you come with us?”
Kuhntul smiled. “I’m afraid not, Mother Skult.”
Skult shook her head. “Then it’s ‘mother’ no longer.”
Kuhntul’s smile faded a little. “As you wish.”
Verthanti held out her hand to her sister and Skult joined the other two. She turned as she came within an arm’s length of her sisters. “Just remember that you have support among the Plauinn.” Without another word, the Three Maids walked into the forest together.
Kuhntul returned the sword she’d used to kill Owraythu to the sheath on her hip, the hilt winking in the sun. A blood red jewel spar
kled from the pommel, and sunlight flashed from the gold and platinum wire set into the grip.
“That’s quite a sword you have there.”
Kuhntul patted the hilt, looking down at it. “Yes.”
“Very ornate for a weapon of war, but I can’t argue with its effectiveness.”
Kuhntul smiled and met my gaze. “Yes. Kramr has come in handy many a time, though circumstances have dictated that I couldn’t wear it openly.”
I felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. “Kramr? The sword Hel commissioned from Vuhluntr? The sword crafted to kill Meuhlnir?”
Kuhntul shrugged, mischievousness dancing in her eyes.
“How did you come by it?”
She laughed her glass-bell laugh. “I have my methods.”
“Why didn’t Hel or Luka recognize it?”
She spread her hands to her sides. “I did not wish them to.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Kuhntul of the Tisir.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
Kuhntul’s smile faded. “Do you truly wish to know? Once you know something, you cannot unknow it, no matter how much you may wish to.”
“Who are you?” I repeated.
She looked away into the healthy part of the forest, but before she did, I saw regret on her face. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Who are you, Kuhntul?”
She heaved a sigh and returned her gaze to mine. “I am Kuhntul…but once, long ago, I was known as Suel, but I…” Her voiced faded and her eyes slid shut. “But I am not the woman you knew as Liz Tutor, though I remember her deeds.” She shook her head and grimaced. “I wish I didn’t.”
“How…how can that be possible? I put a thrall collar on Hel not more than ten minutes ago, she’s on Niflhel already, and she can’t…”
Kuhntul shook her head sadly. “I am Kuhntul. The woman you collared is Hel. Though we were both once Suel, we are different.”
Anger slashed its way through the shock I felt. “You—”
“The Plauinn manipulated me as well, but in the memories I have that are mine and mine alone, I did not lose the war against Meuhlnir and my friends. I was…” She took a deep breath and let it hiss out between her lips. “The Plauinn did such a good job of manipulating me. I followed their trail of scraps like a good little dog. I did not hold back. My anger against my friends boiled and boiled within me.” She closed her eyes again, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “I…I showed no mercy. I killed them all!” The last statement came out as an enraged sob.
I stared at her in silence, but with a slow rage bubbling away within me.
Her shoulders heaved with another broken sob. “I ruled for a while after the war, but it was…it was a black time. Nothing seemed to bring me pleasure, and the dreams I had… The dreams were terrible. I withdrew for a time, living inside my palace and seeing only Luka and Vowli. The Mad Queen they called me.” She shook her head. “If only they knew.”
She looked me in the eye. “They—the Plauinn—continued to do their work, and the universe became a very dark, very bleak place. There was no future, no possibility of…well, anything. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand what I’d done. I couldn’t stand the only future that existed for me.”
“But you could have fought—”
“No, Tyeldnir. They had already won. The damage was done.” She waved her hand at the destruction around us. “Besides, you’ve seen their power.” She laid her hand on the hilt of Kramr. “I didn’t have this at that time. In my timeslice, I never needed it. I stole this from Vuhluntr on the day he split the hinges of Suelhaym.” She shook her head, dashing away the tears. “I couldn’t live with it. The bleakness of the future, the utter destruction the Plauinn wrought in other realms, what I’d done to empower them.” She took another deep breath. “I taught myself how to avoid the Plauinn, how to hide from them. I learned how to create my own preer—by the methods I’ve taught you and your friends. After that, I learned how to change the past.”
I nodded. “Uhrluhk—”
“No,” she said gently. “Not uhrluhk. I learned to change my timeslice for everyone at once.” She shook her head once more. “No, if I’m to be honest, I’ll tell you all of it. I learned to cut my timeslice, to destroy the events that occurred after a specific point. I—”
“What happened? How did you do it?”
“Remember closed timelike curves as we discussed? I learned to create one on a massive scale—one that encompassed the entire timeslice—and I rode back to the point in time I’d decided to change.” She looked me in the eye. “The process was difficult, painful…fatal.”
“Fatal?” I barked a laugh. “You look pretty lively for a dead girl.”
She nodded, smiling. “I ended up bound to the Plauinn for a time, but I broke what bound me to them. From that point on, it was only a matter of giving the appearance of being bound to the Plauinn while I affected my changes. One such change was to tell Suel—the Suel of this timeslice—the truth about the Plauinn. That knowledge led her to surrender, to abdicate, to allow Osgarthr to limp on until I could bring you into the fight.”’
“You brought me into the fight?” I hissed. Anger bubbled in my veins. I felt betrayed, manipulated yet again. The fingers of my Personal Monster™ stirred with the strong emotions pounding away in my head. With a long sigh, I forced myself to let it go. “Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know about your…your…” I shrugged.
“I call it my ‘pruning.’ Yes, like a wayward branch, I pruned the timeslice, cutting away the rot, dressing the wound.” She looked around. “All told, I think I’ve done rather well. I’ve caused you and your family pain, but I think the benefits have outweighed the pain. I brought you here—well, I moved Luka’s proo to hang above that lake near Meuhlnir’s hall, I—”
“That almost killed me, you know.” It came out as an enraged squawk.
Kuhntul smiled, the picture of serenity and gentleness. “I watched from a short distance away. The danger seemed close to you, but—”
“Seemed close? I almost went through the ice! I almost froze to death in that sterk task!”
She shook her head. “No, Tyeldnir. I wasn’t far away. Had things gone badly, I’d have arranged a reason for Meuhlnir to find you sooner.”
I shook my head, my fury dwindling from a blazing inferno to glowing coals.
“Speaking of Meuhlnir, I set him and the others in your path, left the puntidn stavsetninkarpowk where you would find it—”
“Did you have a hand in what Luka and Hel did on Mithgarthr? Did you have a hand in this curse?” I swept my hand down the length of my side, and her gaze followed it.
She returned her gaze to mine. “I did none of those things—except for my complicity by telling Hel the truth and leading her to abdicate and escape to that realm. I had not expected her to sink to such depths. She and I are very different women in many ways.” She shook her head, and her long blonde hair danced in the breeze. “Am I wrong about the benefits outweighing the pain?”
I thought about the conversation I’d had with Jane after we’d returned to Valaskyowlf. About what she’d said about Osgarthr and the Isir, and the coals of my anger died out. I thought about the grimoire, and how it seemed tailor-made for the trials I’d faced. I shook my head.
“Yes, Tyeldnir, I was known as Suel, but now I am Kuhntul and nothing more. Because of you, because of your leadership—”
“I had help.”
“—I am now free to serve Roonateer without the subterfuge of serving the Nornir, the other Plauinn who bound me to them.”
I was still angry with her, but those words brought about a pang of disappointment—similar to the one I’d felt after the fight with Owraythu when Hel had returned and demanded we bend our knees to her. “You’re leaving?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Don’t you know?” She peered into my face, and her mirth faded. “You truly don’t, do you?” she mused.<
br />
I lifted my suddenly heavy hands and let them fall. “Know what?”
“Who you are.”
“I’m Hank Jensen, nothing more. As it’s always been.”
She laid a hand on my shoulder and stared me in the face. “No.” A grin tugged at her lips. “Well, I mean, yes, that’s true, except for the ‘nothing more’ part.”
I grinned back at her. “Yes, I’m also Jane’s husband, Sig’s father. I’m an Isir, and now I am Konungur of the Isir, whether or not I want to rule Osgarthr.”
So softly I had to strain to hear her words, despite her being three feet away, Kuhntul said, “You are Aylootr, the Ever Booming.”
My grin blossomed into a full smile. “I still need to get Mothi back for that.”
Kuhntul’s gaze turned grave. “You are also Tyeldnir, the Wand Bearer. Some call you Valkyosanti, Chooser of the Slain. To others, you are Krimnir, the Hooded One. Because of this day, you will become known as Helpinti, the Binder of Hel. The Plauinn have a name for you. Even the people of Mithgarthr have named you. There, they already know you as Hanki; the Hanged One, Prooni; the Great Brown Bear; and Hrafnakuth, the Raven God.”
I shook my head hard, a sober expression replacing my smile. “I’m no god.”
Kuhntul inclined her head and arched her brows. “Perhaps not—not now, anyway—but maybe you once were, and you might be again. You are Kankari, the Wanderer.”
“No, you are mistaken, Suel. I am—”
“I am Kuhntul. The Suel I once was is long dead.”
“Fine, Kuhntul. But you are wrong.”
“Hank,” she said, “you are Roonateer, the one I chose to follow so long ago. You are the God of the Runes.” She jerked her head toward Iktrasitl, towering toward the sky in the distance.
“I’m no god, Kuhntul,” I said resolutely.
She pressed down on my shoulder, lending emphasis to her words. “You are Isakrim, also known as Owsakrimmr, the Leader of the Isir.”
“I’m just plain Hank Jensen, and—” I snapped my mouth shut and stared at her. “Wait a minute…Owsakrimmr? The man hanging with me in Iktrasitl, he said his name was Owsakrimmr. He taught me the runes, might be he’s Roonateer. Ratatoskr can’t seem to tell us apart, so we must resemble one another. Maybe he’s the one you chose.”
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