The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) (24 page)

Hanging in the air above the square was a pulsing, black mass. Tendrils and cords of black mist flowed lazily from the core of the thing, making it look like a drop of ink suspended in water. A cold feeling tugged at his heart, and for a moment he thought he was back in a physical body. His limbs became heavy and his shoulders sagged from the proximity to the thing. It pulsed larger at regular intervals and it seemed to be twisting and rotating in place.

"It never leaves that spot," the boy said. "But I feel like I have to go there. I hear my mother calling me behind it."

Grimwold put his hand on the boy's narrow shoulder. He heard nothing nor did he feel any desire to approach the thing. Quite the opposite, he would be glad to quit this place and never return. Remembering what a similar mark one eighth the size of this thing had done to him, he was not eager to discover if this possessed similar abilities.

He wore mail and his sword was strapped to his side. His left hand grasped the handle of a plain round shield fitted with leather trim. He only lacked his helmet to complete the look of a warrior. As he thought about it, he was aware of the faceplate restricting his vision.

"A fair trick," he said. "Can I summon whatever I want in this place?"

The boy's radiant blue eyes studied him, then he looked aside. "You will fight that monster for me?"

"Is it not what you took me here to do?" The boy gave a slow nod. "Then do not waste breath on asking, if we even breathe in this place."

He still inhaled to speak, yet found his chest did not expand. He chuckled and tested the weight of his sword. It was his weapon, his mail, everything as it had been when he faced the raiders. With a pat to the boy's head, he stalked off to face the pulsing mass.

Halfway across he doubted his wisdom in helping the lad. He grew colder with each step closer, and his sense of fear deepened. Dark thoughts of being dragged into darkness, crushed and remolded into something less than human filled his mind. The lazy tentacles of the black mass waved in the air, and as each passed images in his head sharpened. Short men with red skin danced in his thoughts. A black stripe ran down the center of their bodies from their hairless heads down to their crotches. They cavorted and gibbered. They reached for him. Hundreds of hands reached for him. They thirsted for his company, beady glinting eyes staring eagerly. Their words were gibberish, but nonetheless conveyed hate and jealousy.

Without even realizing, he found himself scooped into the air with one of the tentacles gently holding him in place. His arms were pinned to his sides as if iron bands had enfolded him. The pulsing black tangle of tentacles and tendrils expanded. Something like a lidless yellow eyeball stared up at him from deep in the smoky mass. The tentacle held him over it the way a rich man might consider a fruit before dropping it into his mouth.

Grimwold's mind was filled with the ravings of a thousand madmen. They called for him to join them, and he thought he soon would.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Lethos grasped the rail of the rickety fishing boat and held against the swaying waves. Valda steadied him, her hand at his back, and gave a small smile. She weathered the rocking waves far better, as if she had been born to sail. Lethos truly regretted adopting a sea-faring country as his home. The dark skies and choppy wind rocked the tiny boat as the first buildings appeared out of the gray haze ahead. A point of orange light marked where the fisherman would guide his ship. His crew of four rowed with the careless ease of men long accustomed to life at sea. Lethos sniffed at them.

He checked Grimwold's body once more, pulling the black cloak higher over his face. The fishermen had been reluctant to take them aboard when they had seen Grimwold's cursed state, but Valda had plied her royal charms. Lethos was just glad they believed her. He had envisioned a rape and murder fiasco which he was not prepared to handle right now. The bull spirit was hidden. Maybe it had even vanished. He could scarcely believe he had considered it a curse, for now the ability to tear a man in half would be useful.

"This old boat won't get much farther," the steersman said. "I hope your friend will let us repair our ship before we go."

"He's a good man," Lethos said. "He won't mistreat you as long as you respect him and his folk."

The steersman spit over the side. "People from Finnmogur never been overly nice to us from Holt. I guess times are changing, but still."

The rowers chuckled and Lethos blocked out their complaints. Barbarians would fight among themselves for differences in the colors of their shirts. Unsurprisingly one island would consider another island's people practically foreigners. He exchanged a smile with Valda, silently confirming that the steersman's quip underscored the need for keeping Valahur united. With the Tsal lurking on the fringes, a divided Valahur had no chance to withstand an invasion.

They glided ashore with men waiting to greet them and help land the ship. Lethos counted a dozen armed men with shields and spears. A dozen more men would be ready to fight if they posed a threat. While they were clearly just a fishing ship, no one was foolish enough to assume it could not pose a threat during these uncertain times. The leader of the group wore a mail shirt, and he held up his hand in greeting.

Lethos did the same, then nearly pitched over the side as the hull sank into the beach. Both Lethos's own crew and the men on the beach snickered. Face hot, he whirled on Valda as if she should have prevented this. She had her delicate wrist over her mouth, and looked away from him. He hated ships and sailors more than anything in this world.

He completed his greeting as their hosts dragged the ship through the surf until it was firmly beached. Upon seeing Valda, men came forward to carry her from the ship to dry land without her soiling herself in the water. Even in her black garments her beauty was obvious, and men jostled to be part of the group that aided her. Lethos was mildly surprised when none of them tried to grope her or did anything other than deposit her carefully on the grass. Lethos and the rest of the crew had to jump the rails and wet their feet in the shallow surf to greet their hosts.

"I am Lethos of Reifell," he said. "You have had the honor of carrying Valda, daughter of High King Eldegris, to the shore."

The man in the chain coat had a swooping mustache that seemed to droop even further at the mention of Valda. He looked to Valda as if to confirm it himself, and his red cheeks shined brighter. Finnmogur and its people had not historically been supportive of any High King, at least until the war of the trolls and the Avadurian invasion.

"What a singular honor," he said unconvincingly. "Does Eldegris send us his daughter on a sinking trawler for any special reason, or was it just his best ship for the task?"

"High King Eldegris," Valda said, stepping up to the man. "Remember it well. I've no time to entertain your foolishness. I must meet immediately with your war chief."

Valda looked expectantly to Lethos. He stared back, admiring her commanding poise before realizing she was prompting him for a name.

"Blund Bloodtooth," Lethos said, his face warming. "You will tell him Lethos and the lady Valda have come to call. He knows me."

The leader pulled the end of his mustache. "Lethos, I recognize the name. You have a partner, yes?"

"He's on the ship," Lethos hitched his thumb over his shoulder. "Part of what we've to discuss with Blund. Now will you take us to him?"

The greeting crew, satisfied that nothing dangerous was afoot, drifted apart. Fees were assessed and paid, the steersman shooting Lethos black looks. Apparently assurances that the crown would remember service rendered did not count for anything in the barbarian world. It counted for nothing in his own country either, but people were civilized enough to let it slide as a polite lie. When Lethos hefted Grimwold's body out of the ship with the ease of carrying a bundle of kindling, the dark looks ended. Barring anything else, he had maintained his incredible strength. Even when Grimwold would not awaken, the connection between them felt strong and true.

Their arrival at Blund's hall was unspectacular as far as war chiefs were concerned. Lethos had expected a show of strength and discipline, but instead found mostly idle men and curious villagers. A pitiful drizzle spit over the whole procession to the top of the hill where Blund had established his hall. Fresh-cut logs and a golden thatched roof were stark and colorful contrasts to the gray sky. A guard in a leather jerkin with a red shield resting against the wall stood by the wooden doors.

Lethos carried Grimwold behind Valda, feeling like he was bearing him off to a mausoleum rather than a friend's home. The guard opened the doors with little more attention than an impetuous school boy. Inside the air was warm, stale, and rough with smoke. Urine was the most striking odor, edging out the fish stink that pervaded beneath it. Across the short hall on his wooden throne sat the man Lethos had rescued from the troll pits of Avadur a little more than a year ago. The man now claimed the position of war chief of northern Finnmogur, Captain Blund Bloodtooth.

Blund stood in welcome, a rich red cloak hanging from his shoulders as if he were modeling it. His smile, at least across the smoky haze of the hearth, seemed to reach his eyes. Lethos had bet on Blund as the one man he could count on to aid, and prayed his rise to power had not yet ruined him. He let Valda approach first, being she was royalty. For a brief moment Lethos froze at the thought of a potential conflict. A dozen scenarios raced through his head, each one ending with neither Blund nor Valda acknowledging the other's authority. Blund originally was not a supporter of Eldegris's, though he changed his stance after the war. Valda, well, Lethos didn't know what she would be like.

It all came together amicably when Blund bowed low to Valda. "Greetings and welcome to the daughter of my king!"

Lethos ambled behind with Grimwold hanging across his arms. The body was still wrapped as if it were a corpse, and was as light as ever in Lethos's arms.

"My thanks for your hospitality, War Chief Blund." Valda gave a smaller bow. The world was right. Lethos smiled.

"And my old friend," Blund said, now less cheerful. "What is this you carry into my hall? Tell me it is not death you bring before me?"

Does power automatically make a man speak as if he were the lead role of an epic play, Lethos wondered. "Captain, err, War Chief Blund, this is Grimwold. He is neither dead nor alive. It is a long story to tell. May I set him down?"

Blund blinked, a frown coming to his scarred face. "Of course. Place him on that table."

With an absent wave of his hand, two young boys cleared away the indicated table and Lethos laid Grimwold across it. He fixed the cloth so nothing would accidentally show before he was ready to reveal it. He imagined Grimwold sitting up and casting away the cloth to proclaim it had all been a joke. He was only keeping his eyes closed this whole time and was really cured. Yet Lethos turned his back on the body, knowing how foolish he was to hope for that. The ache in his own chest reminded him of the black stain on Grimwold's. He wasn't sitting up again until that was gone.

Valda was already seated beside Blund, and servants rushed around to fill cups while men jostled with each other to sit as close to their lord as they could. A space on the bench to Blund's left remained open for Lethos. He sank into it, shoulder to shoulder with a burly man with no hair and a bushy gray beard who smiled down at him. He was one of Blund's crew he had helped rescue.

"Now tell me what has brought you to my hall in what I can only guess must be under the direst circumstances."

Lethos leaned back to see if Valda wanted to speak, but she nodded to him. A cup was thrust into his hand and he sipped the warm, sweet mead. He pulled back at the deliciousness of it.

"Best brew of the summer," Blund said, slapping the table. "And the last of it, saved for a special guest, of course. It's like I knew you were coming, friend. Maybe you're not the only one to see the future anymore!" Blund laughed, now more like his old self, as did his old crew who had experienced Lethos's prescience. The rest gave confused, polite chuckles.

"That may be truer than you think," Lethos said. He drank deeper, hoping a warm glow of mead would enhance his storytelling. "This is going to take a while."

He started his tale from the morning when his powers urged him to the beach. The mead had not enhanced his oratory, for he saw his audience sharing glances. Even Valda seemed less interested in what he had been doing for breakfast that day. Perhaps he had begun too early. He moved on to the appearance of the white ark. From there, he retold all that had happened, clear until the deaths of Kafara and Turo and his and Valda's search for a boat to take them to Finnmogur. By now, every eye was wide and fixed upon him. Mouth tacky from his long speech, he drew another sip of the sweet, smooth mead.

Blund had turned on his bench to face Lethos, and he blinked several times before rousing to words. "Well, never will a more amazing story be told under this roof."

"If it were only a story," Lethos said. "But now you know the threat facing us. And the death of Eldegris and his family is not widely known yet. I think all of Norddalr was killed or taken by these storm riders--at least all inside the fortress were gone."

The silence was complete but for the light patter of rain on the thatched roof. Blund ran his knobby fingers through his beard and his eyes drifted far away.

Lethos did not need his powers to predict that he had lit a fire. Perhaps Grimwold would have known who to contact without setting off troubles, but he was not of much use to anyone lately. Blund's eyes narrowed as he surveyed some grand vista visible only to himself, doubtlessly a vista where he was no longer sharing rulership of Finnmogur with someone in the south.

"We need your aid," Valda said. "Lethos trusts you, and I trust him as my father had. These invaders might have been driven off now, but they will come again. We cannot be fighting amongst ourselves when that day comes. We must reunite."