‘He saved my life by bringing me to you, Uncle. He doesn’t deserve to be executed!’
The other Elves stared at us as if we had sprouted horns from our foreheads. ‘Lord Malik, Lady Sayen,’ said Nikolaj, buying time to gather his thoughts – I hoped. ‘And Tiriaq, I’m glad you could join us.’
I stared at the three Elves perched on ornate, wooden thrones, dark-haired with skin like tea, in stark contrast to everyone else. Whether their dark features signalled them as Sarrow royalty, I didn’t know.
‘Explain yourself, Nikolaj, son of Ash.’
Nik’s back tightened, squeezing the fabric of his cloak. ‘In Midgard, there are many Dark Elves. As some of you know, they’re called “vampires” there. This one isn’t so bad. He was instrumental in saving Theo’s life.’
‘So you thought you would break a millennia old curse and bring him along?’ I assumed it was Tiriaq speaking, and he slapped Sayen’s hand away as she tried to calm him.
‘He must have followed us through the portal.’
‘A trespasser, then.’ Tiriaq’s jaw set rigid, his animal skin wrap only covering the lower half of his body, giving me a good view of his eye-popping abs. ‘His kind were banished from Alfheim for a reason, Lord Malik.’
These weren’t my people. I was a foreigner, despite my uncle’s lineage, and compared to the stature of the male Elves, I looked about as threatening as a garden gnome. Wrapped in a blanket and shivering for no apparent reason, the Gatekeeper inside took this exact opportunity to restart the irritating twitch running across my cheekbone.
I strode forward to speak but needn’t have bothered. Sayen, slight and girlish, vaulted up from her seat and paced the edge of the fire. ‘My dear fiancé has a point, Father,’ she said, and Tiriaq puffed out his chest like a peacock. His arrogance was soon deflated. ‘But. The curse was never meant to be eternal. If they find their way back to the light, who are we to stop them?’
She let her attention caress the unusual appearance of Lorenzo, so unfamiliar to the Elves, drawn to his quick, cloudy eyes and the permanent curve of his lips, suggestive, seductively sly even. He had that enviable, rugged sexuality. No shyness, only open appraisal of Sayen’s beauty. Tiriaq hated it.
‘Madness! We should open the portals and let the giants of Jotunheim through too, should we?’
A snigger ran through the crowd, and Malik raised his cuffed forearm to silence it. ‘What is your name, “vampire”?’
The gathering acted as a giant organism, holding silence as one, a missed note in a forest symphony where rhythmical cricket chirps mingled with woodwind hooting and the occasional squeal.
‘Lorenzo Angelucci, my Lord.’ I almost fell over backwards; Lorenzo showing deference. Who knew?
‘See,’ Sayen said, spinning on her heels in the sandy earth, ‘his family name means angel of light. And he’s made his way back to us.’
Malik ignored her but his frown softened. ‘Why did you follow Nikolaj through the portal?’
Lorenzo shrugged. ‘I was worried about Theo. It was my fault – he was trying to save my girlfriend’s mother and it backfired. I wanted to make sure he’d be okay.’
‘Hang on a sec,’ I said, finding my voice, ‘if you’re here, then who told my father about where I am?’
He cast me a doubtful shrug. ‘Sorry.’
‘By all the gods,’ muttered Nikolaj, ‘good point. Espen will have my head on a stick, let alone Lorenzo’s.’
‘Then you shall leave with Theo and Nikolaj willingly?’
‘Yes, Lord Malik… I don’t even know where I am.’
A collective sigh lowered the murderous intensity. Sayen started giggling, and Malik’s regal exterior began to crack. Soon everyone was joining in, swept up in the moment. Everyone except Tiriaq, who sat on a log and sulked, the contrast prompting another wave of laughter. Lorenzo nervously chuckled, not understanding. ‘How ridiculous! The Dark Elf doesn’t know he’s in Alfheim!’
‘Can someone tell me what a Dark Elf is? Or a Dökkálfar?’ Lorenzo looked to Malik, who roared and slid from his throne. ‘And what curse? What’s so funny?’
‘All this time we have dreaded your kind, and you don’t even know who you are.’
I sat with Uncle Nikolaj’s people, making a space beside me for Lorenzo on the felled tree trunk. After the infectious laughter petered out, the Elves flittered around the firelight as gracefully as dust dancing in the sun, flame flecks shining in the ubiquitous silver crests hanging from every Sarrow neck except the children’s. What are those darn necklaces for? The three of us were given a wide berth; no one else joined us, preferring to huddle in familial groups that didn’t include a half-breed, a warlock, or a vampire. Go figure.
I expected Nikolaj to pluck a character from the past and launch into a fantastical verbal work of fiction, as he did at home. But this wasn’t his audience. So I looked to Malik, his face denying the hysteria of the last five minutes. He didn’t speak either. Sayen – accompanied all of a sudden by a fine woman she called Naira, hair like a cinnamon halo – took the stage.
‘Aeons ago – although in living memory for some Sarrows – our vast forest sprawled farther than the one that grows around us today. Young and old alike roamed the trees hunting by spear, arrow, and bow, for food and clothing, but also for enjoyment, the thrill of the chase.’
‘I’ve got that last bit in spades,’ said Lorenzo, eliciting a squirm from the slight Elf perched on the edge nearest to him.
‘Survival became a sport for some,’ Sayen added, her eyes glistening at Lorenzo.
Naira chimed in. ‘It’s the curse, Dökkálfar. Your ancestors thirsted for blood and you are punished for it. We avoid dwelling on this history as it’s painful for us. In the hearts of the other Elven clans, we still carry the mantle of shame.’
That was news to me. Was this the real reason Uncle Nikolaj rarely spoke about the Sarrows, or his life in Alfheim? I thought he doesn’t talk about it because he missed it here. He wrung his hands, his eyes downcast.
‘Three men caused the curse: Kaneonuskatew – “Kane the claw walker” –; his brother, Hevel; and his nephew, Catahecassa – “black hoof Cat” –, rivals of my father’s ancestors,’ Sayen said. ‘After fawn-blood leaked into the Fork River, Kane saw a vision in the water spreading like mist over the surface, reflecting the cruelty of his heart. He saw into the realm of Niflheim, and it was beautiful, seductive. Loki’s daughter, Hel, occupied a throne of bones.’
I shivered despite the fire. Why does that sound familiar?
‘He called her the Black Widow, goddess of death and darkness, spinning the fate of Elves, Pneuma, and sapiens alike. He and Cat became obsessed, and sacrificed to her in return for her aid in ruling the Sarrows.’
Black Widow. Spinning. What had Persephone and Hecate’s seat been made from? The corpses floating in Lethe would haunt me until Ragnarök, an endless source of bones. Had the fawn’s blood created a psychic link between the Fork and the Lethe, fuelling Kane’s passion for darkness? Jörð, I gave Hel my hair. Those mad yarn-weaving Queens have my hair.
Sayen talked over my turmoil. ‘The Fae, our neighbours across the sea, guard the animals and plant-life in Alfheim, as their cousin fairies protect Midgard. They wander as ghosts, their voices often mistaken for a tickling breeze. This camouflage makes them a deadly enemy,’ Sayen said, glancing into the trees.
‘When necessity degenerated into sport, the Fae acted. The trio’s killing spree showed no mercy, and so the troubles began. Their wrath sucked the land dry, and in defiance of the drought, Kane, Hevel, and Cat drank the blood of the animals they slaughtered, enraging the Fae further, along with the rest of the Elvish community.
‘When the Sarrows elected our family as their leaders, the trio broke off from us and retreated far into the forest. Kane believed that in crossing the Fork River and taking the crown, they could rule Alfheim under the Reign of the Moon, forcing the Fae back to their homeland across the ocean like an outgoing tide
.’
‘If the Fae are so deadly, why did Kane think they’d retreat?’ I asked.
‘Fae concern themselves with the realms of light, not death and darkness. But we have all since learnt how vicious the Fae can be when it comes to protecting what they love.’
Everyone stared at Nikolaj. Just what was it that he hadn’t told me? Did Father know? Great, more secrets.
Naira took the baton from her princess. ‘Praise be to Yggdrasil that Kane had misjudged his brother, Hevel. Hevel lacked ambition, content with pillaging remote regions of forest. When Kane revealed the plot to overthrow the royals to him, fear as fiery as the giants of Muspellsheim shone from his eyes, so Kane killed his brother to prevent him from betraying the plans to his rivals.
‘But the Fae had foreseen his treachery, and had halted the natural process of decay, so Hevel’s corpse didn’t disintegrate, but remained intact and unchanged. When the murder was discovered, the royals placed a curse on Kane and Cat, banishing them to a black forest on the edge of Midgard – Iarnvid – a place so hard and cold the very trees were iron. A family of witches lived there already, spawned by Angrboda, Loki’s first wife, and then by her daughter, the Black Widow, using the seed of mortal men who she promptly killed after they’d impregnated her.’
That’s why she’s called the Black Widow. And I had sat by her feet.
Lorenzo piped up. ‘But how did they turn into vampires?’
‘They were cursed to roam the earth, bodies frozen in time, but with an insatiable thirst for blood. Bearing the mark of the animal teeth they so gleefully wore about their necks, they grew fangs of their own. To survive was to feed on men, a convenience for the Fae, who mistrusted the inhabitants of Midgard. This is where your story of Cain and Abel draws its bloody origins, and when vampires and witches first formed their dark allegiances, long ago in that soulless forest.’
That explained Penny and Malachi living together. They were natural allies. I tried not to think about warlocks being male witches and what that meant for me.
‘So Alfheim is the garden of Eden.’ Lorenzo said.
‘And the Dark Elves were banished into your land. Some descendants couldn’t tolerate Midgard and hid in the lower realms.’
‘Why were they allowed to procreate?’ I asked, ‘If they were so evil?’
‘They still carried their Elvish heritage in their blood. As semi-immortals, they are difficult to kill. Yet they have the potential to reproduce, in a way.’
Lorenzo slowly stood, and the guards who had returned to Malik’s side brushed the bows slung round their backs, ready for confrontation. ‘What you’re telling me is that I’m a god-damned Elf?’
Malik gestured to the guards to be at ease, and fastened his eyes on Lorenzo. ‘Yes, Dökkálfar means Dark Elf in your language. But God did not condemn your kind. Alfheim did.’
Lorenzo surveyed the flawless faces of his Elvish cousins. He didn’t have to say it. This changed everything for him. A major identity crisis sure, but this was his Genesis, an ancient lineage that proved he wasn’t a mere killer trapped in an unchanging body. Lorenzo shared blood with the Sarrows. Rejected or not, he’d found his kin.
We stared at each other, hyperaware of the sudden familial link between us. To diffuse the strange feelings crackling between us, I asked him how he’d managed not to char into a fiery crisp by arriving in Alfheim in intense daylight. The sky – rich, open, and endless – bathed in the ubiquitous glow roaring above, while below, vibrant flowers hummed with bees. Even at night, I could almost taste the oxygen. Surely, it was the antithesis of a vampire’s ideal hangout.
‘Daylight does bother me but it’s not lethal.’ He smirked, adding, ‘But Malachi can’t handle it.’
‘You must love that,’ I said. I would – if there was a certain time of day my father couldn’t dominate my life.
Lorenzo’s fangs menaced his grin. Tiriaq went so rigid I mentally put money on him turning to stone. ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head. No, – you’ve smashed it with that hammer you wear around your neck.’
‘Why are you looking at my neck?’ I grinned, fondling the symbol of Thor on my cloak, which Pipa had dutifully dried out for me when we’d arrived at her hut.
Lorenzo rolled his eyes.
Nikolaj watched us – along with Malik, Sayen, and Tiriaq – aghast. They didn’t expect us to be acting like pals. True, I had half-died. True, Lorenzo lived with varmint. But we had worked together, warlock and vampire, a tradition that stretched back to the days in that soul-sucking iron-wood ruled by the Black Widow… and between us we had saved a life.
36
Forest Of Dreams
‘Did you save Anna?’ Lorenzo asked me the following morning.
I considered his question, a little distracted by the sight of him in animal skins. After much pleading, Uncle Nikolaj had agreed to a rest day before shepherding us home. But sitting by a fire wouldn’t cut it. I’d won the right to a tour of Alfheim fair and square at sword point, and Lorenzo itched to discover more about his heritage. Nik assented, on the condition that we travelled incognito and dressed native.
‘Yes. While I was half-dead – again – I found her spirit. Pretty certain she’s fine. I won’t know for sure until we go home.’ I slipped my arms into the fur-lined leather jacket Nikolaj held out for me, with ties at the front in place of buttons, which was a good thing because the garment was massive. I bet this is Pipa’s. She must think human men are fragile little things. Not like the men here. And by men I meant scarily tall and broad hunter-Elves.
Lorenzo appeared satisfied. But my uncle breathed fire down my neck. ‘Tell me the cost, Theo.’
I played dumb. He didn’t buy it.
‘These things always come with a price. I should know.’
What does he mean by that? Why should he know? I glanced around the sparse hut as if I might find a magnifying glass to help me clarify the clues. First, everyone had gawked at Uncle Nik around the fire when Sayen mentioned the Fae protecting what they loved. Now this. I waited for him to elaborate.
‘I mean, I’m old enough to know. That’s why we don’t get involved in matters of natural death,’ he said, but his pitch lacked conviction.
‘The Black Widow, she’s Hel, isn’t she?’
‘Oh Jörð, what did you promise her?’
‘Nothing,’ I said truthfully, and Nikolaj practically keeled over with relief. ‘I gave her something. I gave her some of my hair.’
I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable verbal volleys, the tirade of abuse. But Nikolaj wasn’t my father.
‘It will cost you,’ he said. He burrowed into my hair and confirmed what I hadn’t the guts to check for myself – and found a missing clump at the back of my head. It didn’t show until he parted the upper layer; I had a haystack of it sprouting out of my scalp.
‘Yeah, I know.’
Lorenzo couldn’t meet my eyes. He sucked in his cheeks and stared at the door. As we left the hut, he gripped my forearm, his face solemn. ‘This is my fault, Theo. Whatever the cost, I’ll make sure you won’t pay it alone.’
I nodded, imagining him as my companion dressed in hides, designed to hold spears and arrows, walking with me into the unknown darkness. For once, I felt ready to take on the Clemensens’ turbulent destiny – and tell it who’s boss. ‘Good to know I have a Dökkálfar at my back.’
We roamed through the forest, breezy greens swirling over the landscape like a veined marble rolling in the wind. The canopy stirred, the sunlight extending a loving hand to even the bracken brushing our ankles. Songbirds shared secrets through the air, sweet-nothings sung and carried away in the bubbling currents of the Fork River, which Nikolaj explained separated the Sarrows and half the Iepen from the other Elvish clans.
‘So, why do Sarrows wear their crest around their necks?’ I asked, catching up as Nikolaj led us farther downhill, away from the mountain tributary that had brought me back to reality, memories intact.
‘The med
allions veil our weapons, which we always carry in the forest.’ He touched the silver bow in the centre and the air wobbled behind his shoulders, as if he were shrugging off an invisible coat. Slung across his back, a bow and quiver.
Lorenzo immediately plucked out an arrow to examine. Nikolaj melted into the trees and reappeared behind Lorenzo within a heartbeat, yanking the arrow away before he could touch the tip. ‘Are you insane? It’s poisoned.’
‘Oh.’
‘How come you never told me what the necklace does?’ I asked. Then again, when was the last time my family members shared anything with me?
‘Because then you would’ve wanted one. Sarrows only, Nevø.’
Lorenzo grinned as we moved deeper into the trees, no doubt planning how to sequester one of his own, now he was officially part-Elf.
An hour after catching glimmers of riverboats and slatted houses on stilts, we emerged at the riverbank, its water glittering like a writhing sheet of smashed glass. While we watched the river folk cast out nets and wash their clothes – their hands and feet scaled like amphibians – Nikolaj pointed out the sleek, iridescent fish. Along with the bourgeoning vegetation, they provided sustenance for the Elves and wildlife alike, including an otter family who swam beside us on our journey down-river.
‘It’s so different ’ere. The animals aren’t afraid of me.’ Lorenzo stopped to sink his hand into the water, the otters obliging him with a playful greeting.
Nikolaj shot him a pitying look. ‘The Alfheim-born recognise your Elvish blood. These creatures know nothing of the curse.’
As we passed a cobblestone bridge about nine feet wide, providing ample space for carts and cattle, I dallied behind, admiring the spring in Lorenzo’s stride. It seemed so long ago I was watching him at the Old Vicarage, guzzling wine in the corner. At the time, I doubted whether he liked being a vampire. The answer no longer seemed so straightforward, not so black or white. His transformation gave him power, strength, and it gave him a heritage. However he felt about drinking blood, he enjoyed exploring his inner-Elf. I couldn’t blame him.
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