The Beast of the North (37 page)

‘She dreamt of children and happiness and living by the sea. Now she only desires my life.’

Lith to Maskan

I
woke up to pain.

That was to be expected
, I thought.
Why would death be painless?

Then I realized my head, my thoughts were filled with something strange. There was a thrumming, sentient power living inside my skull. It was vast as an ocean, wild and careless as war. It was like a new sense. I could see and hear it, smell and touch it, even taste it. I heard the rumble of an indescribable mass of primal ice, ancient and strange, rivers of power rumbling over icy beds of rivers, tumbling into the bottomless void. And there was the fire. Fiery rivers flowed, all made up of molten stone, and they all fell from Muspelheim. They met, somewhere, mixing in great mystery. To see that. To feel that. It was an incredible feeling, a terrific sense, but one that simply overwhelmed me. I sat up with my eyes wide open. I held my head as I tried to make sense of it. I attempted to push it back, and for a moment, I saw Sand’s drawn face. He too was dead.

Then the powers consumed me again. I gazed at the brilliant streams of icy and fiery powers, all cascading before my … eyes? Soul? I lifted my hands and groped forward to tuck at the beautiful things. I pulled at the powers and felt them obey my call. There was ice, water, wind, all freezing and mighty, and a million ways to grasp some of it, to combine it all together.

I pulled at the glittering streams, grasped icy drizzle, and then plunged into the core of the coldest stream of ice I could find. I tore at it, pulled some to me. Then I called some winds into it and wondered at how both streams tingled in my hands.

‘That was the spell your father used,’ Lith said calmly. ‘I remember how it felt seeing it for the first time. Magic.’

I lost my focus. The spell escaped my hands, and I saw Sand scrambling away. A bitter gust of wind tore from me, dragged me to my knees and forward, and the walls of the underground stone cell frosted over, cracked, and groaned as the plaster crumbled to the floor.

The room was dark, and I turned in panic, looked around and tried to find Lith. I saw Sand, his one hand a bloody mess, the wound on his face quite ghastly. He was a corpse, in fact, white and haggard. Then I saw Lith, crouched on the side, her eyes burning softly in the shadows. I gathered the ice and whirling wind again. I overshot the spell, made a mess of it, braided too much of something, and let go of it, but at the wrong place. I felt my breath freezing, and then some stabbing pain at my feet as they were encased in ice.

Lith chuckled.

I tore myself free so hard the floor buckled, but the ice kept me still. I growled like an animal, felt an urgent need to change and felt myself growing. The ice cracked off as I filled the room, hit my head on the ceiling, and fell under a small avalanche of stones.

‘He will get us killed,’ Sand said warily. ‘Blue? White blue? His skin?’

‘Jotun. Ice giant,’ Lith agreed. ‘That is what he is. Always was, but for Tal’s old ring and Balan’s craft. And our charm spells to fool you and your father, Sand. That was his world. All fabrication. Now? He is the last Jotun. In Midgard at least.’

‘They never found Black Brother,’ Sand told her. ‘Fled from the Tower as they took it.’

‘Yes, that is so,’ Lith agreed. ‘But he is alone in his burden. The last king, then.’

I pulled myself up on all fours, my face on the level with Lith and pushed stones and rubble off my back. ‘You—’ I began. ‘Bitch.’

‘I’m going to get spanked now,’ she said, with a bit of worry in her voice. ‘I killed the Harlot for you! Took her place! Gave you some of the poison you used in the Mint!’

I rushed forward and grabbed her inside my fist. She flinched and stared up at my face. I resisted the urge to squeeze her. ‘Draugr? Not alive?’

She sighed. ‘No,’ and laughed. ‘I still sigh, even if I have no breath to let out. It’s hard to be dead and still alive, Maskan. It’s confusing. But we pretend. We act. Perhaps we miss breathing.’

‘You will look a confused mess of mangled flesh in a bit, love,’ I said and thought about smashing her to the wall.

‘She changed sides,’ Sand told me from the side. ‘Or she never had one.’

‘She did?’ I chuckled. ‘They are all mad. They are obsessed, driven by their needs. If they want something, they cannot easily let go of it. That is why you had me, no?’

‘Yes, I wanted you. Still do. It is strange,’ she said. ‘And it was pleasurable. And I wanted to get your help, in return for me not telling Shaduril about that evening. Now I can only ask nicely.’

‘You mad thing,’ I growled.

‘Hold,’ she said as I squeezed. ‘Just hold.’

‘Why?’ I asked her spitefully. ‘You have to make a will?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘my will was executed after we died. All went to Illastria.’

‘Poor woman.’ I laughed.

‘She went mad. Quite mad,’ Lith told me. ‘She saw us walking, and her mind could not grasp it. She is the head of the house in the eyes of the world, but truly, she just draws the same words over and over again in her journals.’

Sand grunted. ‘I saw it. It says: “They died. Why do they speak?”’

‘You won’t walk again,’ I told Lith. ‘Nor speak. She will be happy.’

‘I saved your life just now,’ she said with reproach. ‘That is worth consideration.’

‘Your kind killed my family and lied to me. That too is worth consideration,’ I told her with a feral growl. I wanted to bite her head off. ‘I’m not a fool anymore. Why did you rebel?’

She patted my hand affectionately. ‘When Mother, your Mir—and that is her real name—died that terrible night, twenty years ago, the spell chose her. There are other elder draugr all across Midgard, but she is the queen. We are always second to her, and that cannot be changed. We must obey her if she commands us, and only by hiding and running can we have our independence. But as you see, the dead do not give up. She knows I rebelled. Shaduril is after me. They will find me sooner or later. It’s dreary. I do not enjoy it. I can help dethrone her,’ Lith said calmly, and I stopped squeezing, despite myself. ‘If she dies, then she won’t command me.’

‘So you wish to be the eldest draugr in Red Midgard?’ I sneered.

‘I wish to be free.’ She grinned.

‘You cannot speak yourself out of becoming stuffing for a hole in a wall,’ I informed her. ‘That would free you, no?’

‘I don’t want to die. And I can help you,’ she said with a note of worry I found refreshing.

‘Speak,’ I said, cursing her under my breath. ‘I doubt you can help me, you conniving corpse.’

She ignored my foul mood and smiled widely. ‘Of course I can! You have few allies. Even fewer who love you!’ she said with passion, her eyes gleaming maniacally, and I shuddered in disgust. ‘And I did not kill your father. I did not. I was not there, remember? I could not stop it, no because Mir made us and we mostly obey her if she so commands, but I did not take part in that. I have some former Jesters with me, as they remember what it was like to rule their own world. We have ways to help you indeed. As long as we don’t run into Balan or Mir, we will. I want to.’

‘And what is your agenda?’ I asked her.

‘Mine? I wish to kill Mother.’ She grinned. ‘Kill her. I want her dead. She raised us from Helheim. I did not ask for this. Neither did Ann nor Shaduril. My agenda is to kill those who can shackle us.’

‘I know,’ I hissed. ‘I meant after. Will you be happy after I kill your mother and father?’ I spat. ‘What other hidden goals might you have?’

‘I had a few,’ she sulked. She put a hand on my cheek. ‘Still have quite a few.’

‘I think you really need me for something else as well, don’t you?’ I spat.

‘Of course, I need you!’ she insisted caressing my face, and I resisted the urge to bite her hand. ‘I need you to help me get the two bastards first, though. And that should be fine with you.’

‘No,’ I said and squeezed her. ‘I don’t trust you. Not one bit. Tell me more. You mentioned Shaduril is after you.’

Her eyes bulged, and she stuttered. ‘Well. If we kill Balan and Mir, she will be equal to me. And as you know, she has it in her head to kill me. Get it?’

‘I don’t,’ I grunted.

She swallowed. ‘I’ll want Shaduril dead as well.’

‘No,’ I told her.

‘But I want it,’ she hissed.

‘I said no,’ I spat. ‘That is all. You won’t get everything you wish for. You’re gonna have to risk something as well.’

‘But—’

‘Let go! And then you shall take Mir’s place?’ I asked her. ‘You will rule the dead, along with other … elder draugr. What will you do with them? Tell me all now, or perish. I’ll make rat feed out of you. Beef jerky. They will enjoy a snack, no matter how old.’ Her magical earring was shaking wildly as I shook her..

She rubbed her face and nodded. ‘I want to run a kingdom. Underground. Deep down here in the shadows of the land. Without anyone to command me. That’s what I want. A crew of my own.’ She hesitated and upped her bid. ‘And I want you.’

‘You cannot have me.’ I grinned ferociously. ‘Only my animosity. And what can you offer?’

‘That gauntlet,’ she said with a small grin. ‘Black Grip. Let me down?’

I let her down, keeping an eye on her. I had few human frailties left, right that minute, I realized, and squashing her would be very easy. ‘Go on.’

‘Balan had it. I know where it is,’ she said.

‘Where?’

‘Secret,’ she sulked. ‘Do we have a deal?’

‘And has he tampered with that as well? Black Grip?’ I sneered.

‘That artifact is different,’ she said nervously. ‘He was tempted to try to use it for this scheme they pulled on Morag, but Black Grip was beyond him to understand. Larkgrin was a simple weapon. Black Grip has … power of its own. It’s not entirely dead.’

I was nodding. I needed it, no matter what. I looked at my poor friend in the dark shadows, staring at me emotionlessly. ‘Sand?’

‘Maskan,’ he answered.

‘She is party to the killings of our family,’ I told him. ‘They lied to you, to me. You and your father are as much a victim as I was. Do you wish to kill her?’

‘No,’ he said reluctantly, and I looked at him in surprise. He looked away.

‘I’m a draugr elder,’ Lith said helpfully. ‘He is a lesser thing. He will obey me when I ask him to.’

‘I see,’ I said, eyeing Sand. He looked pale, strange, and his eyes gleamed. I had failed him. ‘What was that thing you fed me in the hanging?’ I asked her.

Lith poked me. ‘I told you. The poison I gave you, Maskan, is what you have used once. It puts you in a very deep sleep. It was the same essence Ann created for the mint job.’

‘Ann,’ I said. ‘Poor girl.’

Lith nodded. ‘She was always the odd duck in the family. Awkward and smart. We loved each other once, but as you know, she never found love. She did love you. We all do. Did. Perhaps we like danger and tall men? Though Taram is short. I—’

‘Shut up. About the poison?’

‘It’s an ingenious thing. Ann was good with bright things, alchemy, and poisons. You should be grateful I stole some of it from her. I thought it might be useful one day. The effects took time to wear off, and much has happened in the meantime. Are you listening?’

‘Grateful,’ I whispered. ‘I’m not grateful to you Lith, not for anything,’ I told her. ‘Who raised Sand?’

‘I didn’t,’ she told me, looking uncomfortable. ‘Mir has the power, a strange spell to raise dead. Unique. Possibly Hel’s personal favor to the draugr kings and queens. I don’t know. It is not as simple as it sounds. She can only raise some twenty per day, and it always consumes a living soul. We harvested Valkai’s kingdom for corpses and used the villagers to raise them and each other. Sometimes the spell fails, and it was a real problem with Crec and Gal resisting our charms enough to plot against Balan, but Mir managed to raise them. Sand here, with him we succeeded as well. I fetched his corpse and had Mother raise him. I claimed he might prove useful, and she agreed. Taram, the reckless idiot, risked everything by grabbing him and forcing the poor, just raised boy into that event. He just hates you so much. He cannot help it. As much as I love you, he hates you.’

I ignored her words, turned to look at my friend. He shrugged. ‘Don’t look at me like that. It’s probably as weird for me as it is for you to be a magic casting … Jotun. And the arm? No need to worry about it either.’ He indicated his cancerous flesh. The arrow wound in his face looked dreadful.

‘Our flesh dries, the wounds remain but the bones mend, eventually, unless we are slain,’ Lith explained.

‘We are friends, Sand,’ I reminded him, not sure if that were true. There was something really, really odd about him. His movements were jerky, his mood dangerous. ‘And now you follow her?’

‘I must.’ He frowned.

‘This is his wish?’ I asked her. ‘To serve you?’

‘I am his draugr elder, Maskan. Will you help us?’

Them.
Sand and her.

‘And what can you offer me?’ I asked her. ‘I cannot imagine myself at the head of your army of mongrels. And perhaps all this is just a cruel joke. I say yes, walk out of here, and Taram grabs me again. Probably get hanged once more, eh? You are a strange and wicked lot.’