Dolor and Shadow (23 page)

CHAPTER 30

The battlement was quiet. Like sentinels, each guard stood at attention, peering into the shadows of hill and tree. Aaric walked the lines of men. He studied the worry, the anxiety, the fear held within each face. It tightened the jaw, sharpened their sights, and collected the adrenaline that would flow through them. When battle began, the surge would force them on.

But no army waited within those trees.

Not yet
, he had told the troops.
But they will. Look sharp.

And so they had done.

Kallan should be in the stables soon.

Aaric entered the small stone passage of the battlement keep. He slipped down the steps to the courtyard where the second battalion waited in the open air. The warriors shifted nervously. The night had a chill, but the tension was thick, filling each Dokkalfr with raw angst that bound the nerves. The wind passed through the city with the taste of a sweet cold as if it carried the morning dew of a distant land.

Aaric made his way across the courtyard and entered the corridor that would take him to the stables. Within the hall, the wind shifted and a thick, warm air settled around him. Aaric paused. Something wasn’t right. The air was different. He reached with his Seidr, touching the threads around him and counted:
Daggon behind…He must have followed. Kallan ahead with…Ljosalfar.
His heart eased and he almost grinned when a ripple shook the strands of Seidr. There was a change in the web that he knew sent his heart hammering.
She’s here.
At once, Aaric charged down the hall. 

“Kallan!” he called. He felt the pull on the Seidr tighten. He turned the corner where Kallan came into sight. Beside her, the king looked as startled as she and for a moment, neither dared move.

A second ripple shook the web and, just as Aaric felt his foot leave the floor, he pulled on the Seidr around him, throwing up a shield with it. The ripple became a solid pulse that struck the floor, throwing everything in the corridor to the air moments before Aaric wrapped his Seidr around Kallan, himself, and Rune. The pulse ejected them from the corridor into the stables, where they struck the stone hard.

And then there was silence. Shaking off the stun that accompanied the blow, Aaric pulled himself to his knees and froze when his eyes found Kallan. On the ground beside Rune, she lay unmoving. Already, the Ljosalfr was up, trying to raise her from the ground. A bit of blood seeped where her head had struck the stone and Aaric lunged, dropping a hand to her brow. Her Seidr was strong, and he could heal her easily enough, but he couldn’t afford to wake her. Not yet.

She won’t comply. She must stay asleep until she’s gone.

“Take her,” Aaric said, not bothering to look up at Rune although he could feel the questions he didn’t ask. “She lives. She’s fine.” This time, Aaric did look at Rune. “But you must get her out of here.”

“Why—”

“There is no time.” He was nearly done. Her wounds were closing fast, but the Ljosalfar king made no attempt to move from Kallan’s side. “Take her horse,” Aaric said. “The brown destrier. He rides faster than the others.”

He could feel the moments slipping away.

“B—

“I’m giving her to you now go or you’ll both be dead!” Aaric cried.

“She’s Seidkona. When she wakes…” Rune shook his head. “I won’t be able to hold her.”

Aaric read the questions clear on Rune’s face and stared back with a look that asserted his warning. There was no time, no choice.

Clasping his hand to Rune’s wrist, Aaric poured his Seidr to the threads that slept within the Ljosalfr. There, where the energy coursed, Aaric linked his Seidr to Rune’s and pushed the lines, coaxing them awake, forcing them through until he reversed the flow of Rune’s Seidr.

The Ljosalfr gasped and fell, catching himself on his palm so as to not fall on Kallan. Taking him by the shoulder, Aaric shook Rune to attention.

“It’s from the shock,” Aaric said. “You’ll get used to it. Now go.”

“What did you do to me?” Rune asked.

I tethered your sleeping Seidr to the Shadow that lies in the bottom-most depths of the abyss far below Under Earth. His heart will be pounding like a state of berserk. His strength won’t ebb. If anything, he’ll have a constant surge of adrenaline without end.

“Saved your life,” Aaric said. “Now get.” 

At once, Rune moved and took Kallan up from the floor with an ease that Aaric could see came unnaturally to him. The Ljosalfr made his way to the saddled stallion and tossed Kallan onto the horse. Aaric felt the seconds slip by as if counting down the breaths to his timely death.

“I can’t promise I’ll be giving her back,” Rune said, pulling himself into the horse.

“Don’t bring her back here,” Aaric said. “If she does, she’ll die.”

Without question, Rune steered Astrid from the stall.

“And Ljosalfr,” Aaric said.

Rune pulled back on the reins and gazed at Aaric.

“Don’t tell her about this,” Aaric said. “She won’t listen. She won’t believe you.”

Without a word, Rune snapped the reins and followed the path out behind Livsvann into the forest, allowing Aaric a sigh that allowed him to breathe easy.

Aaric muttered a charm. The image of Borg that had masked his true appearance from the Ljosalfar king melted away just as the air went cold. The color drained from his face. Sweat beaded upon his brow. He knew that prick to the back of his neck, the drug-like perfumes of Under Earth.

“How now, sweet Aaric.” Fand’s hot breath grazed his ear and his chest tightened. “She’s here,” Fand hissed. Her voice spilled down his back like honey. “I can feel her and you have fear.”

He could hear her breathe, drawing in his scent.

“I can smell it.”

Her words slithered from her mouth and Aaric cringed when he felt the tips of her fingers graze his bare shoulders.

“Stand back, witch,” he growled and watched the black of her eyes dilate with prowess.

“Where is she, Drui?” Fand asked.

Aaric clenched his jaw, loathing the word and she smiled.
Delighted at her own cleverness
, he mused.

Fand repeated the word with a grin.

“Drui.” It rolled off her tongue.

“She isn’t here, Fand.”

The Fae goddess gave a plump pout that forced all his attention to her mouth. Her spells hung heavy in the air and they worked to cloud his mind.

“Not here?” she asked, feigning disappointment. “But I feel her. She’s near. She’s—”

“I didn’t give
her
the tincture, Fand.” Aaric watched her performance change to rage as she abandoned her game. “I gave it to another. She’s gone, Fand.”

Hate tightened her face and her chest rose and fell with increased breath.

“Where?” she seethed.

“Gunir.”

Spinning on the ball of her foot, Fand stomped toward the hidden passage.

“You can’t go, Fand!” Aaric shouted as she moved her hand to transform, his words pulling her back. “The Ljosalfar have no Seidr users. Their knowledge of the Seidr is the same as Men. You step one foot near Gunir and Danann will know.”

“Danann can detect the girl—”

“Danann doesn’t know the girl exists,” Aaric said, knowing he had her. “Unless something such as the Fae approaches Kallan, Danann won’t know. You’re out of options.”

Venom twisted her face and she raised a hand filled with golden Seidr.

“You—”

“Lay a hand on me, Fand,” Aaric shouted over her threat. “Lay one finger and then what? You have only a few more breaths before Danann finds you here!”

Fear stripped her rage and he watched with satisfaction as she glanced at the runes that lined his chest.

“You wouldn’t?” she said.

“If it means Kallan will remain safe,” Aaric said, “I will undo the spells that bind my Seidr all so that Danann can find me. Kill me and Danann will know. What then, Fand? What will you tell her when she finds you’ve killed one of her precious Drui?”

Fand twitched with the want to kill. He had her.

“Danann doesn’t forgive,” he said. “You have no time.”

“There are other ways for me to find her,” Fand said. “Others who will want what she has.”

“So long as it isn’t you.”

“If I find her, I promise there will be no prison that awaits her,” Fand said. “I will kill her. Get in my way again, Drui, and I will kill you.”

Aaric felt the fight in him rebound. The battle he thought he had won, he had only postponed.

Her task having failed, she turned to leave when a step, too soft to be heard by most, earned the attention of the Drui and the goddess. There, in the shadows the Dark One stood, his longsword poised, his dark eyes fixed on Fand with such loathing as to make Aaric’s blood turn cold.

Fand smiled. Her eyes glistened with amusement as if she had found a long lost toy.

“You…” Bergen snarled.

“Bergen,” she purred, grinning and studying him up and down with a look that made Aaric’s skin peel. Bergen’s name in her mouth seemed only to darken Bergen’s temper.

“Fae whore,” Bergen grumbled.

“Still burning?” she asked.

Bergen tightened his grasp on the hilt, catching a bit of light on the blade. Faint lines of gold glistened from beneath the folded, black metal where Seidr composed its core.

“Still have my sword, I see,” Fand said.

“Always in my grasp, Fae whore,” Bergen said.

Fand scoffed and turned her venom to Aaric. “Drui,” she said, bidding farewell. With a flick of her wrist, she contorted herself into a raven and flew from the stables out through the corridor behind Bergen and back to the courtyard and the sky.

Aaric leered at Bergen, who leered back while neither moved.

“Go on then,” Aaric said, indicating the passage leading back to Livsvann and the wood. “They’ll be long gone from here, I imagine.”

Aaric felt the tension shift as Bergen increased his guard.

“You’re letting me go, just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Neither man lowered his weapon.

Aaric assessed the Ljosalfr whose alertness hadn’t waned.

Bergen took a step into the stables and Aaric mirrored his footwork. As Bergen shifted from the corridor, Aaric slipped into the hall to leave Bergen’s path clear and both men with a safe amount of space between them. With nerves wrought high and both men armed to attack, they stepped back, ensuring their eyes never left their opponent until Aaric was deep in the shadows of the corridor and Bergen was several paces into the stables. Only then did Bergen turn and walk from the stables, back to the Livsvann, his men, and the wood.

Aaric drew a deep breath. The adrenaline still ran its course, leaving his awareness piqued.

One last end to tie up.

He made his way down the corridor, ignoring the fractures in the stone from Fand’s blast. From the hall he could see the many dead that lay there, dead or dying from the force of the Seidr Fand had brought down from Under Earth. Had Gudrun not drunk the tincture, she would have Seen all of this.

Had Gudrun not drunk the tincture, she too would be dead.

Aaric stopped at the heap that was Daggon’s body crumpled against the stone wall that made up the arched entrance to the Great Hall. Despite his proximity to the blast, which had thrown him into the arch, it very well saved him from the bulk of the blast, and from death.

Aaric placed a hand to his burnt brow. His Seidr was there, but faint, and Aaric at once set to work, muttering the charms he learned a lifetime ago.

Just enough to keep him alive for Gudrun and…

Aaric deepened his Seidr and muttered beneath his breath.

…all I need now is a witness.

CHAPTER 31

The road followed the river, twisting down the mountainside from Livsvann. Clouds filled the sky with magnificent silhouettes, while below the ocean stretched into the horizon like black glass. Countless shadows reflected the clouds that seemed to rise like billowing wraiths from the sea.

Eager to put as much distance as possible between them and Lorlenalin before sunrise, Rune had steered Astrid from the road and into the forest. The steady pound of the horse’s hooves upturned the leaf litter and invaded the silence.

His hands shook. His head reeled as if the traitor had infused a drug into him. But there was so much more than that, like the drug was always there, now awakened. His heart thundered with the surge until his chest ached, and he couldn’t steady his hands from shaking. Despite the changes, he felt stronger, like he was ready to charge into battle with sword and bow and knew he could win.

Rune gazed at Kallan lying limp in his arms.

What of the Seidkona?

In the heat of battle when all other lines had failed, the desire to kill her and ensure his brother’s victory had been clear. But out here, like this…

Her hair had fallen to the side, leaving the lines of her slender neck exposed.

Bergen wouldn’t hesitate to break your pretty, little neck.

He imagined his hands wrapped around her throat. Like this, he could snap her neck with ease.

A coward’s killing.

The cut on her head was gone, leaving behind a series of questions without answers. He remembered his mother and sister. They had been Swann Maidens and shared a link to Eire’s Land that he had seen from no other. Not even he and Bergen were born with that gift.

Too much of their father in them
, his mother had said.

Distorted shadows splashed across the trees. Branches reached every which way like menacing limbs in the dark. The clouds shifted now and again to permit various shades of gray to spill into the wood, obscuring the night.

For half the night, he had considered killing her, but there was still too much he couldn’t answer on his own. And then there was Borg. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about him, let alone whatever it was he had done to Rune. The first time they had met, Borg was adamant to have Kallan killed, but in the stables, Borg seemed more concerned with keeping her alive.

Don’t tell her about this. She won’t listen. She won’t believe you.

Rune studied Kallan’s face.

Serene and content when you’re not trying to kill me. How much do you know, princess?

The clouds cleared and allowed bits of moonlight to spill into the forest. The first morning light peeked through the trees, dispensing the last of night’s shadows.

But if I don’t kill you now, how am I to defend myself when you wake?

Rune looked to the bit of sky seen through the sly. The searches would commence soon. The closer to Gunir he was by that time, the better. Bergen would be trailing him by morning. If he knew his brother, he knew the exact road on which to meet up with him. He would wait for him there.

By the gods, stop, why can’t I stop shaking? A traitor with the powers of a Seidr user and a blast strong enough to throw a Seidkona to the air. Why release me, princess?

Rune leaned down onto Kallan as the lowest of branches and thorns dragged along his bare back instead of swiping Kallan’s face while Astrid stomped through a brood of grouse, upsetting their roost. Guttural gobbles and harsh, woody pops filled the forest as the birds scattered. Their wings and calls drummed with the rustle of trees before the forest quieted down again.

As much distance by morning. Nothing else matters,
Rune mused.
Just so long as I survive the Seidkona.