A Thunder of War (The Avalon Chronicles Book 3)

by Steve McHugh

  “What do we do?” asked Lucifer, who was still sitting on the floor.

  Nabu tossed Lucifer the key to the sorcerer’s bands. “I stole it from Abaddon,” he said with a smile.

  Lucifer unlocked his sorcerer’s band and sighed as his power returned to him. “Old friend,” Lucifer said, his voice harsh and filled with pain.

  “I will see you again, one day,” Nabu said. “Now help me up.”

  Layla and Zamek helped Nabu to his feet, although the expression on his face and the occasional word in a language Layla didn’t know made everyone aware of his pain.

  “Push me into a realm gate,” Nabu said. “I’ll die there, I won’t trigger the runes, and everyone will get to go home with a win.”

  “Except you,” Layla said.

  “You need to find the Fates,” Nabu said.

  “On it,” Lucifer said, now recovered. He walked over to Nabu and embraced him. “Safe travels.”

  Nabu stood before the realm gate that Zamek had earlier activated and leaned against the wooden structure. “Pick a nice realm. Something with a beach.”

  Zamek smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.” He touched the realm gate and it began to slow down, showing each realm for a few seconds at a time. After a minute it showed one realm, and stayed there.

  “Where is it?” Nabu asked.

  “Look,” Zamek said.

  Nabu turned and tears began to fall down his face as he gazed upon the beautiful flowers that littered the realm beyond. “Nippur,” he whispered. “The paradise of the Mesopotamian gods. My home. How did you know?”

  “I started looking into it,” Zamek said. “I wanted to surprise you when I got the realm gate done in Greenland. I know the realm to this world vanished a long time ago, and you never got to go back there. They named a city after this place, so I figured it was important.”

  “Thank you so much,” Nabu said, kissing Zamek on the forehead. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  Layla helped Nabu toward the realm gate. “Take care, Layla,” he said. “I hope to see you again one day.”

  Layla wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s been a pleasure,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Nabu began to glow brighter and brighter as he stepped through the realm gate and onto the grass of Nippur. He turned around to see them all and vanished before the realm gate could close.

  Layla stood motionless for several seconds, before turning to see the body of her father.

  “We will ensure the rites are performed,” Zamek said.

  “He was a monster in life and he knew Abaddon would kill him, but he fought her anyway.”

  “Your father died bravely,” Zamek said. “No matter how he lived, there is always that.”

  Layla nodded, not sure that she could find the words to express how she truly felt. She was relieved that he was dead, that he was no longer a threat, but she was also sad that her father, no matter what he had been, was gone.

  “Any chance any of these gates go back to Helheim?” Layla asked.

  Zamek nodded and tried to activate one of the realm gates nearby, but it didn’t work and the realm gate remained off. He tried it with two more gates and got the same result. “Apparently the tree is done,” he said. “I think having all of this power flung around inside it wasn’t something it liked. We’re going to have to take the long way back.”

  “We need to find the Fates,” Layla said. “And then we need to leave this realm and help Hel.”

  23

  MORDRED

  Nidhogg the dragon stepped out of the shadow, towering over everyone in the group, except for Dralas, who had made himself grow to over twenty-five feet in height. The dragon’s yellow-and-red wings beat once, before folding over the orange and yellow shimmering scales of his back and sides. Nidhogg’s chest—the only part without scales—was a deep red color. His massive, black talons clicked as he walked over the stone.

  “You say that Mammon is here.” It was the first thing Nidhogg had said since coming out of the shadows.

  “He’s trying to destroy us,” Mordred said.

  Nidhogg lowered his head toward Mordred. “I do not like his kind. He is not a true dragon. He is an interloper, born of human parents and given power he does not deserve.”

  Mordred watched as Nidhogg’s tail flicked around, the razor-sharp barbs on the end gouging a large hole in the wall; he didn’t even appear to notice.

  “Well, he certainly likes flying around like a true dragon,” Irkalla said.

  “Irkalla,” Nidhogg said. “It has been a long time. How is Tiamet?”

  “Dead,” Irkalla said.

  “Excellent,” Nidhogg replied, and laughed.

  Mordred let out a slight sigh of relief. Tiamet’s death had been something that he was hoping wasn’t going to come up, but he was glad that Nidhogg didn’t seem too bothered about it.

  “I assume she continued to believe she was better than she was,” said Nidhogg. “An infuriating dragon. I never lorded my power over humans—it’s barely worth getting up in the morning for them.”

  “Do you know where the Fates are?” Remy asked.

  “The Fates?” Nidhogg asked.

  “Nidhogg,” Irkalla said sternly.

  “They are not here,” Nidhogg said. “Why would they be?”

  Mordred sighed. “Damn it, I’m an idiot.”

  “He said it this time,” Remy said, pointing to Mordred.

  “Caleb took Harry after the Fates,” Mordred said. “That’s who he was tracking. And he tracked them to Abaddon.”

  “Abaddon took the Fates,” Kase said. “I guess she doesn’t want them out of her sight.”

  Nidhogg sighed. “You people talk too much.”

  “Are you going to help, or not?” Dralas asked, his voice booming.

  “Giants should know their place,” Nidhogg said. “No, I will not help you. I do not care if you all kill one another.” The dragon turned to walk back into the shadows.

  “You do care about power though, don’t you?” Mordred said. “You care about Mammon out there masquerading as a dragon. You care about him going around showing everyone how powerful he is, how he alone is the dragon to fear.”

  Mammon’s war cry could be heard in the distance, and Nidhogg stopped walking and looked up at the sky behind him. Mordred noticed Nidhogg’s expression change to one of anger as he looked over toward the other dragon. When he looked back at the group, the anger was gone, but Mordred knew he had the dragon now.

  “I do not enjoy seeing him,” Nidhogg said. “Let’s say I agree to help you. What will you give me?”

  “What do you want?” Kase asked.

  Nidhogg turned back to the group. “I want freedom,” he said. “When this is done, and Mammon lies dead at my feet, I want to be free of this place. The prisoners are gone. They will die today, and then there will be nothing left for me to feed upon. So I want to be free.”

  “We can arrange that,” Irkalla said. “Anything else?”

  Nidhogg tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his surprise.

  “Gold, perhaps?” Dralas asked.

  “Dragons don’t need your shiny baubles,” Nidhogg snapped. “We require power. That is all. I will remain in the cavern here. I like my home, but there will be no runes holding me here, no agreement with Hel to stay where I am. Both have been tried over the centuries, and I cared for neither. You will let me feast upon Mammon’s corpse.”

  “Deal,” Mordred said, not really sure what else they were ever going to do with a dead dragon.

  “It will sustain me . . .” Nidhogg paused. “Wait, did you say ‘deal’?”

  “Yes,” Mordred said. “It’s all yours.”

  “You kill it, you bought it,” Remy said.

  “Ah,” Nidhogg said, clearly not expecting to have had his demands met so willingly.

  “Anything else?” Tarron asked. “A cow every month, for example?”

  “A cow would be nice,” Nidhogg said, no longer i
n control of the conversation and struggling to figure out where he’d been outplayed.

  “Okay,” Mordred said. “You go kill Mammon, and not only do you keep his corpse, but no more prisoners, and you get a cow every month.”

  Nidhogg lowered his head toward Mordred. “You’re not just playing games, are you?”

  Mordred shook his head. “Nope. All yours. Enjoy both Mammon’s carcass and our monthly bovine offering. Cows get big here, I think you’ll find it a nice little deal.”

  Nidhogg looked between everyone in the group. “Deal,” he said. His wings beat twice and he took off into the air, throwing up dust and debris all around the group. Mordred wrapped a shield of air all around them, stopping any more debris from flying around.

  “That was much easier than I expected,” Remy said.

  “Only because Nidhogg expected us to haggle,” Tarron said.

  “I think Nidhogg knew someone would come to ask for his help,” Mordred said. “I think he was just expecting us to fight him more on what he asked for.”

  “He was always someone who prided themselves on being smarter than everyone else,” Irkalla said. “Even if he wasn’t actually smarter than anyone else.”

  “We need to get to the front of the fort and help out with the battle. Those trebuchets need destroying, and I’m pretty sure they’re not going to break themselves,” Mordred said.

  The group ran through the fortress, the sounds of battle increasing with every step until they reached the ruined gate. The battle before them was worse than Mordred had imagined. Bodies littered the ground and the smell of blood and death hung in the air. They were hundreds of feet away from the main battle, which was across the bridge on the other side of the river, but with so many fighting, the noise quickly reached them. The sounds of weapon on weapon, and weapon on flesh, were something Mordred had never gotten used to, no matter how many battles he’d played his part in.

  Mordred looked over at where the two dragons fought in the air. Arrows were let loose from troops on the ground. “Dralas, make sure that nothing else bothers Nidhogg—he’s going to need all his power to defeat Mammon, even if he thinks otherwise.”

  “Will do,” Dralas said.

  “I’ll help out,” Tarron said, and the pair ran off.

  Mordred continued to watch the two dragons fight. The graceful sweeps and dives in midair looked beautiful, but were designed to inflict maximum damage.

  “Mordred,” Irkalla said.

  “It’s just, how often do you get to see two dragons fight?” Mordred said.

  “Well, if we don’t stop those trebuchets, it’s probably going to be just the once,” Irkalla told him.

  Mordred turned away from the dragons and studied the three trebuchets. They were on the same side of the river as Mordred and his people, which made getting to them easier. Unfortunately, large groups of soldiers protected each of them. One of the walls of Niflhel was almost destroyed, and blood elves poured into the wounded city like cockroaches.

  “Irkalla, Remy, go destroy the trebuchet on the left,” Mordred said. “Kase, you’re with me. We’ll all meet at the one in the middle and then all three will be done.”

  “They’re pretty big,” Remy said.

  One of the trebuchets threw a piece of stone that Mordred guessed to be the size of a Range Rover. “Then hurry,” he said.

  “Let’s go fuck their shit right up,” Irkalla said.

  Mordred turned to Remy. “She’s been hanging around with you too much.”

  Remy wiped away a mock tear. “I’m so proud to see her all grown up and swearing like a sailor on shore leave.”

  Mordred watched Remy and Irkalla run off toward their target before turning to Kase. “That’s ours,” he said, pointing to the trebuchet furthest from where they stood. It was near the edge of a large forest whose black-trunked trees stretched high into the air. But more importantly, it was surrounded by tall, red-and-gray grass in which they could hide.

  “Let’s go,” Kase said, and took off at a sprint toward the trees.

  Kase was considerably faster than Mordred and reached the trees well before he did. She beckoned him over to where she hid. Mordred joined her, and together they moved at a slow crouch through the tall grass.

  Kase sniffed the air. “Blood elves, something else too. Can’t quite figure out what it is. I think they have some elves stationed in the woods. I’m going to go see who I can remove.”

  “Be careful,” Mordred whispered.

  Kase rolled her eyes and moved through the tall grass, dropping pieces of her armor as she went until she transformed into her wolf-beast form. She was larger, but the dark fur of the beast gave her more camouflage than she’d had with just the armor.

  When Kase vanished into the shadows of the forest, Mordred continued on through the grass. At some point they were going to have to confront whoever was guarding the trebuchet, but thinning the ranks of the enemy was never a bad idea.

  Mordred stopped when a blood elf walked past and halted only a few feet from where Mordred was hidden. He slowly wrapped invisible tendrils of air around the blood elf’s legs and then pulled it into the grass. He plunged a silver dagger into its throat a second later. One elf down, countless more to go.

  The trebuchet fired another huge slab of rock, and Mordred had to fight his every instinct to run out and kill everyone with his magic. He knew he could use his pure magic to destroy the trebuchet, but releasing it now meant he would likely be weaker if, and, or when a dragon or Abaddon decided to enter the fight.

  Four blood elf commanders dragged a huge block of stone toward the trebuchet. Mordred sighed; he knew the walls wouldn’t take too many more hits. One part down was bad enough, but if it started to happen over and over, the city would quickly be overrun.

  Mordred darted from cover, throwing a spear of ice into the chest of the nearest blood elf. He ducked under a blade swipe, slicing up with a blade of his own made of air. The blood elf dodged back, but Mordred extended the blade, catching him under the chin and piercing his skull. Mordred spun around the injured blood elf and drove his silver sword into its spine, killing the creature before turning to the four blood elf commanders. Kase burst from her hiding place, tackling several blood elves that were nearby.

  “Just me and you,” Mordred said, noticing the runes on two of the commanders’ armor. “And two of you are wearing rune-scribed armor, so that’s clearly awesome, and in no way a giant pain in the arse.” He hit the closest blood elf commander in the chest with a blast of air that lifted the commander off his feet and flung him over the large piece of blood-colored stone.

  The three other commanders walked away from the stone, drawing weapons, each of them smiling at the thought of what they were going to do to Mordred. Mordred smiled too, and winked at the nearest commander, who paused, looking surprised.

  Mordred sprinted toward the surprised commander, avoiding an ax swipe from one of the others, and drove his sword toward his target’s chest. But the commander regained his composure, parried the strike and aimed a kick at Mordred’s chest that forced him to dart away, toward the two other commanders.

  They took the opportunity to attack, and Mordred avoided the sword of one commander, but the ax of the other hit him in the chest. The runes on his leather armor ignited from the impact, stopping the blade from piercing him, but even so, it still hurt.

  Mordred danced back from the three commanders, driving his sword into the skull of the prone commander he’d thrown over the stone earlier.

  “I’m going about this all wrong,” Mordred said, more to himself than anything else. He sheathed his sword and removed two sets of spiked, silver knuckles from his pocket. “Never was much of a swordsman.” He put the knuckles on, tapping them against each other, and rolled his shoulders.

  The closest commander charged Mordred, who easily avoided the thrust of the sword and punched him in the jaw, taking off a large chunk of it in the process. Another punch to the side of the temple knocked
him to the floor where he lay, unmoving.

  “Yeah, this is better,” Mordred said.

  The two remaining commanders glanced at one another and then charged Mordred as one. Mordred avoided the blades with hastily created shields of air and ice and kicked out the knee of one elf, but took a hit to his back as he did.

  He used the momentum of the blow to roll away from the two elves and got back to his feet a short distance away as ice began to cover the trebuchet.

  “I think Kase is screwing up your plan,” Mordred said without taking his eyes off the two commanders.

  He removed one of the two silver knuckles, and pushed out a fog of air that curled around the two blood elf commanders as they began to walk toward him. By the time they both realized what he was doing, it was too late. Mordred froze the fog in place and turned the sheet of ice into dozens of sharp ice spears that tore through the protection runes on their armor. They flashed and vanished as Mordred rushed forward, drawing his sword and cutting through the torso of the first blood elf before, spinning on his heel, he punched the second with a fist covered in dense air. The air exploded into thousands of ice shards upon impact, almost tearing the blood elf’s head clean from his shoulders.

  A large piece of the trebuchet landed near Mordred, and he turned to see Kase tearing apart the frozen weapon.

  “Kase,” Mordred shouted in warning, pouring ice into a ball of air, making it crack and hiss as it spun faster and faster, until it was the size of a basketball. Kase moved away from the trebuchet, and Mordred tossed it into the giant mass of ice and wood and clicked his fingers. The ball exploded, tearing the trebuchet apart in a shower of ice.

  “Nice trick,” Kase said, her dark fur matted with blood that wasn’t hers. “Looks like Remy and Irkalla finished.”

  Mordred watched the furthest trebuchet explode, sending at least one blood elf commander high into the air, before it tumbled back down to earth.

  Mordred walked toward the third trebuchet and noticed Elizabeth. She saw Mordred, jumped on a horse and rode off toward Nastrond.

  “Kase, help Remy and Irkalla deal with that trebuchet. I’ll go get Elizabeth.”