The Beast of the North (33 page)

She grinned as I reached the slab of stone. It was white and black, with veins of gray running across its surface. ‘What is it, Maskan?’ she asked from her throne. ‘That stone?’

‘It is a strange rock?’ I asked her, looking up at her face. She smiled and waited. I looked at the stone carefully. It felt strange … honorable, sacred. The incense made me feel a bit strange, and I thought I could read the text though only for a moment.

‘Struggle, Maskan. Try. You can. It’s that thing on your finger that is stopping you,’ the queen told me with a hint of loathing in her voice. ‘Show it to me.’

I hesitated but pulled off my gauntlet. She leaned forward. ‘Sorrowspinner.’

‘It is,’ I agreed.

‘Tal Talien’s cursed ring. His family found it long ago in a battle—’

‘I’ve been told,’ I grunted.

‘It cannot be removed unless your heart stops and you die, and they thought it appropriately ghoulish to mark their lord like that throughout the generations,’ she chuckled. ‘It is just another thing that was lost that fateful night when we killed Tal and his … people. In reality, it dampens most all magic. Not all, but most all. A strong one can resist it somewhat. And I sense you have. Resisted it.’

‘It gives me my face changing ability,’ I said, uncomfortable with speaking to the tall lady I was supposed to kill.

She leaned forward, smiling. ‘Truly fascinating to hear their lies through your lips. Fine. But fight now. Look at the rock. And read it. Fight through the haze.’

‘What—’ I began but hesitated. And then I tried. I felt the rage return, the ring throb in my hand. I looked at the rock, furious and determined and fought as hard as I could. My head throbbed, my eyes burned with salty sweat and then, I made out the words though only for a second.

‘Here lies Queen Mellina Tenginell the Good.

A gentle soul, face hidden by a dark hood.

Slain by the Night.

Eaten by the Blight.’

The queen nodded at me, and I fell on my knees, holding my head. She sighed. ‘How they shackled you, boy. How they made you something so strange to us. They took everything you were given as a gift at birth. But it is all there. Still. Under the lies. And spells.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I told her miserably.

‘You have your skills, boy,’ she said evenly, nodding at the thing. ‘A shackle makes you weak. We will have to think about it.’

‘It is an artifact,’ I insisted. ‘My father’s artifact!’

She snickered. ‘No, it is not. I—’

‘Who is Mellina Tenginell?’ I interrupted her. ‘Your relative? And why could I read that text?’

‘Oh, yes. She was related to me by marriage,’ she grinned. ‘She looked like this,’ she said and indicated herself.

‘I don’t understand,’ I told her, frowning. ‘Are you mocking me? First, your husband killed my father, and then my mother, and my … half family, and now you are here, making fun of me. I came here to slay you, and perhaps I shall.’ I heard the girl shift behind me, but the woman raised her hand at her.

Her eyes fixed on mine. Her face went solemn. ‘No, dear boy, I am not mocking you,’ she said sadly. ‘As for the woman you speak of? This so-called mother of yours? She never gave birth to you. She was not your mother, Maskan. Mellina was your mother. What you know are lies. All lies. Their kind … lives to plot. They embrace risks, they create elaborate shows and enjoy complications and hardships and failures. They can work on a plan for decades, slowly nurturing it into final steps, as they did with you though they failed. They are driven by their desires, often conflicting, they obey their lords only when they must, and they will kill us all if they can.’

‘But you all lie and—’

She shook her head heavily and interrupted me. ‘Though, of course, we also lie, yes. Royals do. We have fought your recent acquaintances for decades, their lies, and fended off their attacks after that terrible first one, where they took so much from us, including you. We have bowed to the south, tried to keep the north together. All sides tell lies. Yet, this is the truth. Once we were the enemies of the people of Midgard. Then, when we lost the war, we made peace with men. We have governed the city and the land for well over two thousand years.’

And so she changed.

Her form blurred and thickened, she grew large, tall, imposing. And it was not a she, it was a he, a fourteen-foot man, whose hair brushed the ceiling. An icy white beard replaced her smooth chin, a thick hank of hair changed from blonde to dark and heavy, a brooding face with strong bones bulged out of the formerly beautiful face. He wore the magnificent dark armor of the Danegells though no helmet. He had massive, wide shoulders, and his thick gauntlets glittered with silver and gold, and the creature looked down at me. It’s face was bluish and nearly white, and it’s eyes were bright as crystals. ‘Yes. We are shape changers. It is what we are, ancient and skillful. Welcome home, Maskan,’ it rumbled. ‘Son.’

I stared at the thing. I took a step back, fell over a small precious vase, and sat in the dust as I tried to understand what I saw. ‘What in Hel’s name—’

‘Do not utter that name here, Maskan,’ the creature rumbled. ‘We have forsaken Hel, thousands of years ago. We lost the war in Midgard and instead settled in and took over Red Midgard, eventually. But she is a persistent mad goddess, isn’t she? It was Hel’s spell that changed our lives near two decades ago. We lost your mother that night. Others died. You disappeared. Many treasures—one we truly need in these desperate times—was taken as Mellina died. She guarded it. Tal Talin led a rebellion that night, and we fought hard. They were not really skillful, and had no plan but to try to surprise us with numbers. They did, to a degree.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I told him, feeling weak. ‘Anything. They? Son?’

‘We lost you that night, Maskan,’ he grinned. ‘I am King Magor Danegell. She was my wife.’ He nodded at the grave. ‘Mellina Tenginell. The Danegell and Tenginell houses, Son, are not from Midgard. I am the Beast of the North, and my father was a king of a different world.’ I shook my head in denial. I turned to look at the girl, who grinned and fell on all fours as he, for it was he, changed. He grew into a humanoid as wide as the king though not quite as tall. The face was still boyish and happy if blue tinged. It was the Red Brother, the man I had fought in the mint, and he was no man. His armor glittered in the dark, and his massive sword was on his back. He bowed to me. The king nodded at him. ‘Our armor and weapons are dverg made, magical. They change with us. When we take a figure of a girl, the armor is still there. This one is of our clan. One of the few survivors. You nearly killed him once. Bjornag he is called.’

‘Prince,’ the Red Brother said with mirth and bowed deep. ‘An honor.’

‘What is this?’ I asked them, not really expecting an answer. ‘You call me son,’ I told him. ‘Yet, my father died at your hands. My mother did. Or are you going to explain this before I go mad?’

‘I told you,’ he growled, ‘lies have been told indeed. To you. All your life. And all for this moment. They groomed you, created fantastic lies, and hoped my son would kill me and that I would not know him. Bah! Borlein fell, that is a terrible loss, but you know me. In your heart you do. I am your kin. And what am I? I am a jotun.’

‘You are a giant,’ I whispered. ‘A Jotun.’

‘Jotun,’ he sighed. ‘Strangers from Nifleheim. A shape changer, a spell lord, a warrior. That we are. Near as strong in spells as many gods, we are one of the old races. We are god foes, the ones they nearly destroyed when they made some of the Nine Worlds. We live in Jotunheim, in Muspelheim, in Niflheim and we are no lumbering beasts. We have some treasures, magical armor, and our weapons. The rest were stolen.’ He glowered at that. ‘Like my scepter and that ring, that disappeared from slain Tal’s hand that night long ago. And that one thing I told you about. What Mellina guarded.’

‘You use magic,’ I insisted. ‘Don’t you? It’s not an artifact that you use.’

‘Yes, we use magic. We hear and see the ancient streams of ice and the molten power of fire. It’s a sense, Maskan, one granted to the mighty races by something that was before the gods. We Stir the Cauldron, as the Jotuns call it. We are part of the weave, and see and hear the grind of the ancient ice, running down the Nine Rivers, Gjöll, and the others. We see the cascades of ice and winds when they go roaring down to mix with the fierce fires of Muspelheim. We can draw from that power, we can make spells out of it. It takes time to find ways to make right weaves and to figure out how to release the power. Some die learning; many, in fact. There are more spells than stars in the sky. Our magical shapeshifting skill is part of our race, and we all do it without thinking, but most jotuns have their own special spells. Red one here, Bjornag, knows a spell to detect magic. Borlein, the Jotun you killed, knew how to find people if he knew their name. Alas, his spell was useless, as long as you were with them.’

I shook my head, staring at the wondrous creatures. ‘This is impossible to believe.’

He laughed so hard the walls shook. ‘You see me, no?’

‘Yes,’ I said mulishly.

‘Indeed. But it is true, nonetheless. Your life will change.’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said, shocked. ‘If this is true, then I should be able to … Stir the Cauldron?’

He nodded at my ring. ‘And you are able. To a degree. That thing. It’s a shackle for magical beings. Tal’s family found it after Hel’s War and took it as their own. It did them no harm, as they cannot Stir the Cauldron. To you? It does harm. It negates your powers. Not so much your skills though it does stop you from changing size and anything but your face. I am not sure why. You could turn into many things, my boy. That you can change at all, is a miracle.’

‘It’s broken. It was broken, at least a bit, by—’

‘Show me,’ he rumbled. I did, and he bent down to squint at it. ‘The stone has been tampered with. The whole thing is different, subtly so. It has been altered. Remarkable. Perhaps the stone has been changed? And then, after, someone broke the stone. Never heard of anyone tampering with dverg treasures. Almost like someone was skillful enough to allow you the ability to change your face. I must study this.’

‘I … someone did break it,’ I whispered. ‘A girl.’

He laughed and looked at me shrewdly. ‘One of the people you stayed with?’

‘Yes,’ I said with a blush as Bjornag laughed rather rudely.

Morag grinned briefly. ‘Well. They probably lied to you like true bastards about your abilities and mixed you right up, poor boy.’

‘Yes,’ I whispered though I felt angered by the slight mockery.

‘Calm, boy,’ he laughed and tapped his foot. ‘Someone did something to the ring to allow your some power. Then someone broke it enough to let you access some more of your true heritage. The rage, certainly. They quarrel amongst themselves. Must have liked you, that one. A pretty, lovable girl?’

‘She was. Is.’

‘Was,’ the Jotun rumbled. ‘Was, Maskan. You should be happy she did not break it more. If you try to remove or destroy it, it will kill you. Tal’s cursed ring. Imagine. It was perfect to fool you. They took you, placed it on my baby’s finger, and began corrupting you. This girl took a risk with the ring. Perhaps she liked you; perhaps she sought freedom from her masters? I know not. Matters not. She will obey them when given an order. But it is good to know they still know how to love.’

‘She likely sought to help me,’ I said. ‘And I think she loved me.’

‘You have a good heart, boy,’ he rumbled. ‘But it is a human heart. Weak for lies. That thing stops you from casting spells. That … sense … is lost to you. And should you one day see them? The rivers of ice and fire filling the Void? Be careful. As I said, there are countless spells one can learn, but it is a slow process, and you might die if you fail. If you had the gauntlet, Black Grip, it would be much easier for you to learn the ways of magic. But that too, was stolen. It’s what I mentioned. It is precious to us. Have you seen it?’

‘I … no,’ I said. ‘Only this staff and the ring. And an earring.’

‘Earring?’ he mused. ‘Well, they have our most treasured bit of magic, Maskan. It is sad it is so. We might need it one day. This gauntlet is important.’ He scowled and looked like a rock that had a grudge.

Eventually, I spoke. ‘Lord,’ I began but went quiet. ‘Father?’

His face looked startled at that and then grieved, and he looked away. ‘Son.’

‘I—’

He rumbled on, his voice intense. ‘I am sorry I could not find you. Whoever held you, kept you hidden very well. Their kind have spells as well, many ways to conceal themselves, and those they wish to hide. When I learned you had been seen? I knew something was taking place. I also rejoiced for you were still alive, not a skeleton in some unknown ditch. You have no idea what it does to a … man to lose his child. A baby.’

‘They want to kill you for Red Midgard,’ I told him. ‘They wish to restore the alliance of the north. They claim you are mad.’

He roared with mirth. ‘Mad! Yes, I am crazy. Mad with rage. They have been spreading these lies for two decades, as long as the High King has been trying to brew trouble. Not only does the High King threaten us with his heresy—and I have attempted to appease him—but also these things try to topple us from within. The rumors are false. Ygrin and Red Midgard have no outstanding issues. You have been lied to. They set up a huge web of lies to trap you. They played and toyed with you, always pushing you. I killed your father. I hang the poor. I am mad and wish for war. The only thing they can actually blame me for is trying to placate the Balic fellow, our High King. Now that is a mad human.’ He pointed a finger at me. ‘And now. Tell me. Who are they?’ He leaned forward. ‘Of the Ten? Or some lesser house?’