Realm of Fate
Page 18
Dúngarr’s attitude made a swift turn. He clenched his fists at his side and curled his lip in a snarl. “Careful. You might be stronger and faster than those little humans in your realm, but you’ll find things different here.”
“I’ve been looking forward to a challenge, testing out the way things work. Seems like fun.” Jorg relaxed his shoulders and prepared himself. “Don’t you even want to find out what I might know that you don’t?”
There was a momentary flick of Dúngarr’s brows, and hesitation at the prospect of hearing what Jorg might say, but then it disappeared. Which was fine by Jorg. He looked forward to the chance to release his pent-up anger, especially on Dúngarr. It wasn’t a time for weapons. This was a test of strength and fortitude.
“What could you possibly think you know that I don’t? Nothing happens in this realm without my knowledge.” Dúngarr stepped forward out of the crowd to stand in front of Jorg. “Giants will be here soon—in the next couple days. Prince Jarrick has made a bargain with them for when Midgard opens. You’ll want to ally with the right side. Information is what I deal in, as Ingrid knows well. We had a nice chat about it in her room—just the two of us.”
Fire scorched through Jorg’s veins and turned his vision red. His right fist caught Dúngarr on the jaw and his left to the abdomen. After that, he was a fury of single-minded focus.
The elven guard was strong and ready. The two careened into a bedpost then back to the aisle. Hands shoved them, keeping them in the open area. Strike after strike, Jorg had one purpose. He’d let no one who had hurt Ingrid survive.
Dúngarr stumbled. Jorg leaned forward and released an onslaught of blows. The two fell to the floor, and Jorg pinned the guard’s arms under his knees. Then someone grabbed him by the back of his tunic and pulled him to his feet.
Blows came in at different angles, and he roared at the intrusion. He elbowed the nose of a faceless elf and kneed the gut of another as he surged forward at Dúngarr. After the coward had risen to his feet, he stepped behind his men.
An onslaught of fists surrounded Jorg. He spun to deflect and return as fast as he could.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Dúngarr’s voice drifted through the madness.
Adrenaline surged through Jorg. He fought with a speed he’d never experienced. Strength powered through his arms. Three elves crumbled to the floor as he fought his way to his target.
One from behind wrapped an arm around his neck while another pummeled his midsection. Others came in from the sides, from between the beds, to kick at his legs and add to the abuse of his ribcage.
Roaring, he lashed out with his feet as someone bent his arms backward. He landed on the stone floor with a crack to his knees. As he twisted and continued to defend himself, darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.
Whatever extra strength he’d gained now seeped out of his bones. With his arms pinned and his legs useless under him, he was at the mercy of every punch. He tasted blood when he coughed, and if his eyes were open, he couldn’t tell.
Suddenly, it all stopped. A new source of shouting rang through the hall, he thought. Perhaps it was only the ringing in his ears. Vaguely, he heard his name as someone rolled him over, just before everything went dark.
31
Ingrid
Aguane hadn’t been in Ingrid’s room at the palace the last time she’d returned. Was the reason because she also spent time in Montibeo? Did she help Jarrick? Could she be a spy?
In the middle of her jumbled and hurried thoughts, Aguane floated closer. Scoffing at Ingrid’s fear, she grabbed Ingrid’s arm, and peace washed over her. A vision of the large room Ingrid had traversed entered her mind. Yet, her view was distant and darkened, as if she watched from the shadows.
Aguane released her arm. The expression the sylph held as she studied Ingrid’s face was hard to decipher. What was it she wanted Ingrid to know?
“Oh! You snuck through the castle. Then you’re not working with Jarrick?” The narrowed glare and the flash of light that sparked through Aguane’s eyes affirmed how offended she was at the accusation. “Are you here to help me?”
The sylph nodded, then beckoned with her hand for Ingrid to follow to the door. Aguane hesitated and closed her eyes. Ingrid presumed she was listening. The air suddenly turned as frosty as it would be on an autumn morning. Ingrid could see her breath in puffs as it escaped, faster with each exhale. Stumbling backward as a gust rushed against Ingrid’s middle, she’d made it halfway across the room when the door opened.
“Now, Now, Aguane. You know better than to come here. Jarrick has made himself clear on the subject,” Urkon drawled as he sauntered into the room.
Aguane’s skirts billowed and moved as if they floated in water, moving between Ingrid and the seiðr master. How had Urkon known the sylph had arrived?
Thankful she’d finished her weapons, Ingrid reached for the one at her thigh. Before she could remove it, a roar of air surrounded her. She threw her hands over her ears and screamed against the deafening sound. Wisps of hair dislodged from her braid and slapped across her eyes. Helpless to stop herself, she slid across the floor. Her feet scrambled for traction to no avail as the air pressure shoved her into the corner of the room next to the fireplace.
The sound abated as Ingrid turned and pressed her shoulders against the smooth stone walls. The tunnel of air that held her captive was now an arc pinning her in the corner from ceiling to floor. She noticed it wasn’t just air, but mist—like Aguane. It swirled and moved as it kept a steady barrier between Ingrid and the rest of the room. It was then she realized that it wasn’t only the wind that stopped assaulting her ears but all sound.
Ingrid swallowed hard, and the lack of noise made her own breathing echo. Between the swirls of mists, she saw flashes of bright light and dark shadows. Aguane had formed the barrier as a shield as the sylph and the dark arts master battled.
Though limited in using seiðr, Ingrid knew Urkon still had considerable power. He’d used a form of magic far beyond the level of portal travel training she’d had to bring her to Jarrick’s castle. However, that didn’t mean much. The training she’d had with Eir focused mainly on how she could bind the spell protecting Midgard, not in how to wield her powers for other matters.
Ingrid shrieked as what appeared to be a dagger made of shadows pierced through the air shield. With little room to maneuver, she’d barely avoided the tip of the blade before it retracted. The pressure of the barrier strengthened, and Ingrid had to open and close her mouth, swallowing in between to clear the pressure in her ears.
In a moment of visual clarity between the swirling mist, a chair in her room smashed against the stone just outside her protective wall. Ingrid instinctively raised her hands in front of her face, then pressed her fingers against her mouth. Powerful forces fought over her. Caelya had said Aguane had the strength of two elves and moved even faster. If Urkon could keep up with her, then the strength of the magic he wielded was stronger than Ingrid expected.
What would he be like with full use of seiðr? Reaching out, Ingrid tested the barrier. Her fingers slipped into the mist, but she pulled them back with a yelp. The bite of freezing temperature covered them in frost. Quickly, she stuck them under her arm to warm. She alternated between holding her breath and hyperventilating. The pressure had taken hold of her—or was it a lack of air?
She wasn’t as cold anymore. That’s when she felt the heat slipping into her space. Fire blazed on the other side of her protective wall, and the heat infiltrated her space, making her dizzy.
The mist slowed and offered her a better glimpse into her room. Aguane glowed and hovered in the air, her features unrecognizable. She was nearly transparent as Urkon pushed a wall of fire toward her and Ingrid at the same time. Black smoke billowed from the flames like living shadows.
Suddenly, Aguane grew so bright Ingrid had to shield her eyes. Ice crystals bloomed on Ingrid’s temples where sweat had formed seconds earlier. The mist wall thickened on
ce again. Frigid temperatures made Ingrid hug herself tightly and slip into a ball on the floor.
Tears stung her eyes at the helpless feeling of being trapped while someone else fought for her. Urkon might hurt the sylph, and then what would happen? How would the princess ever forgive Ingrid if something happened to someone so important to her?
While Ingrid huddled on the floor, another shard of darkness pierced the icy wall. The sword-like shape sliced in a downward arc, ripping a hole in the protections before it left. It would have cut through her body if she’d been standing. Sound finally entered, and Ingrid’s blood went cold. A horrid keening rang through the air.
Jumping to her feet, Ingrid pushed her hand through the ripped barrier and opened it wide enough to view the room. Aguane’s light gauzy body bent close to the floor as both fire and shadow assaulted her.
Ingrid screamed and pushed herself through into the room, causing the wall to dissipate. “Leave her alone!”
Urkon darted a glance to Ingrid, and the distraction gave Aguane a momentary reprieve. “Stay back, Ingrid. I’ll deal with you in a moment,” Urkon rasped in a voice so evil it seemed to come from the depths of Helheim itself.
“No! Leave her alone. Whatever you want from me, I’ll do it. Just stop!”
Urkon tilted a glance at Ingrid, then a smile slowly curled his lips. The pressure seemed to lessen against Aguane, and she stared at Ingrid shaking her head.
Ingrid turned to Urkon, ignoring the pleading sylph. “What do you want?”
“Agree to come with me to the Yggdrasil tree on the morning of the king’s birthday celebration. Bind the spell as I instruct without fail and tell no one you’ve made this bargain.”
Ingrid’s stomach turned in on itself. Her magic shifted and rolled, taunting her as it stayed out of reach. She knew what Urkon’s request meant. He would sacrifice her and free himself. The power of the seiðr would be back in his full control, and he’d use it to fight against Asgard and enslave humanity. The king’s birthday was less than two days away, but maybe she could find a way to the tree before then.
“I agree.”
The fire and shadows disappeared as Urkon’s smile grew. Aguane stayed on the floor, drained and defeated.
“To protect our bargain from further disruption,” Urkon flicked a glance toward Aguane, “you will stay in more appropriate quarters.”
Ingrid stared at Aguane, but the sylph did not return the gaze. She kept her focus on the floor in front of her.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him hurt you like that,” Ingrid whispered.
“Enough. She isn’t worth your pity,” Urkon said. He snatched Ingrid’s arm and squeezed. “It’s about time all this nonsense ended.”
Ingrid heard the door latch, but she paid no attention. Her focus stayed with Aguane as she faded, slowly growing lighter until, like a field of spent dandelions, she fluttered into the breeze—then disappeared.
“It’s the way of the sylph. She becomes the air itself to heal. Once she does, all will be well with her as it was before,” Jarrick said from where he stood by the door. “I suspect that might not be a comfort to know if you’ve done something foolish thinking you could save her.”
“I would say she’s finally come to her senses,” Urkon cooed.
“Perhaps it would be best to speak further someplace else?” Jarrick asked in a tone of reverence to Urkon.
What had she done? Aguane didn’t need her help. Ingrid should have realized that. She stared dumbfounded at the empty space Aguane used to occupy. Something caught her attention, a glint of metal. What is that? It appeared to be a necklace.
Ingrid casually checked that her runes still hung around her neck. It couldn’t have been them because both the string and the pouch were made of leather. There wasn’t any way to get closer without drawing attention to what the sylph had left behind.
“I have just the place,” Urkon answered to Jarrick.
This time, it didn't shock Ingrid when the air escaped her lungs, and everything turned dark. Nor did she stumble when her feet suddenly landed somewhere new.
But she gasped when she saw where.
32
Jorg
Excruciating pain was the first sensation to rouse Jorg. The second was the voices. A moan escaped before he could stop it, and the litter he laid on came to a halt. Hair clung to his face from sweat. He tried to open his eyes but could only see through slits. Blurry images of faces peered down at him.
Blood mixed with the saliva in his mouth, causing him to choke when he tried to speak. Someone rolled him to his side as he coughed, the movement nearly making him lose consciousness again.
When he’d finished retching, he willed himself to take small shallow breaths, then waved his hand to signal he was better. Gentle hands moved him once again to his back. They raised the litter to an angle where he wouldn’t choke.
“Jorg, we’re moving you to a safer area, and then we can help you better. For now, Bakkan will help you so you can breathe easier. Can you hear me?”
Vaguely, Jorg thought he recognized the voice, but he didn’t care. He moaned and hoped he nodded. The stabbing behind his eyes told him he had. If anyone could help, give him some relief, he was up for it. Even if it was Dúngarr at that point.
Fingers touched his face on either side of his head. Bursts of light like shooting stars flashed behind his lids. He held his breath, then the pressure in his eyes faded some, and he could exhale with lesser pain. He was considerably better, though not healed.
Jorg knew what a healing felt like. Ingrid had helped him more than once. This was different but effective. He tested one eye and then the other, able to see those around him clearly. Only one face was familiar—Kelvhan—the king’s guard who’d taken him to his aunt.
“Where are we?” he rasped.
“Along the pass to Montibeo. The others are waiting near the top for us to meet them. For speed and safety, it would be best if you stayed on the litter until we reach them,” Kelvhan answered.
“Thank you,” Jorg said. He held Kelvhan’s gaze.
The guard smiled. “Any time.” Kelvhan gestured to the others. They picked up the litter again, and the group started forward.
Jorg gritted his teeth and did his best to keep his breathing steady. He refused to groan. The guards had saved his life. There was no way he would act like a coward over a few bruises, though he knew it was worse than that.
He’d been rash, and because of that, he’d jeopardized more lives when his goal had been the opposite. He hadn’t helped Ingrid, and he wouldn’t if he didn’t make better decisions. As if in answer to thinking of her, the bead around his neck warmed. He had another chance to find her. He wouldn’t waste it.
As they hurried forward, Jorg noticed that his breathing had evened out. His ribs still sent a stabbing pain when he tried to move, but he was healing. Maybe whatever Bakkan did would continue to work on its own.
“Jorg!” Selby screamed from somewhere up ahead on the trail.
He smiled at the sound. They were in the mountains, surrounded by snow and high peaks. They had laid a blanket over him, but he warmed through knowing he’d made it back to his friends.
“What happened?” Selby asked when she stood by his side. Her eyes were wide enough he could see white all around the chestnut color.
“Shh. You’ll cause an avalanche,” Jorg joked and then paid for it with a spasm of coughs.
“If you didn’t look like trolls had trampled you, I’d smack you myself. Where did you go?”
“Let’s get settled and let Bakkan work. Then he can tell us how he fought an entire guard unit,” Kelvhan said, hustling the guards holding the litter forward.
Not long after, Jorg’s pain was manageable as he lay near a fire. He sat up and stopped Bakkan from any more ministrations. The guard was the largest of the group with bright red hair and sparkling blue eyes. His shoulders were wide, and muscles bulged from under his tunic, but the elf appeared drained.
“It’s my pleasure. You did a fair amount of helping yourself, but if you will allow me a short time to rejuvenate, I can work again,” Bakkan said.
“I’m fine. There’ll be no more need.” What did he mean? I did nothing.
Bakkan stood and gave a slight bow to Jorg before he moved to a spot in the shadows and laid down. Almost immediately, snores emanated from the robust figure.
Kelvhan chuckled as he settled near the fire. “He can fall asleep faster than anyone I’ve ever met. Oh, and he snores the loudest, but you’ll not find a kinder-hearted soul.”
“Plintze, are you tired? We can take bets and see who really snores the loudest,” Selby teased.
“Humph. You’ll need to join the competition,” Plintze answered.
The guards stared at the duo, seemingly unsure how to respond. A heartbeat later Bremen and Jorg chuckled.
“Ah, stop. Bakkan did a great job, but don’t make me laugh,” Jorg said.
Selby gave a toothy grin, and Plintze’s eyes crinkled in a telltale sign of the smile hiding under all his facial hair.
“So,” Bremen pierced Jorg with a direct gaze, “tell us what happened?”
Suddenly, the space seemed too small, and Jorg could feel the stares of everyone on him. There was no hiding. He had to face up to his mistake and move forward. “A guard came to my door and told me he could show me the way to the pass. I knew I shouldn’t trust him, but I thought if it was true . . . I could go by myself and not risk the rest of you.”
“Oh, because that’s why we came here? To sit around and wait for you to risk your life while we do nothing?” The irritation and hurt were louder than the sarcasm as Selby chastised him.