The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) (32 page)

Yet the Tsal had already been caught off balance once, and he denied Syrus another chance. He threw his legs wide and grabbed Syrus by the shoulder. Syrus shoved but it was like trying to push a boulder up a mountain. The Tsal slammed him to the ground like he was no more than a sack of grain. In the darkness he heard a rasp, and the faint glow of a sword blade grew into the darkness.

"Worm. You die."

But Syrus was not ready for death. He rebounded, screaming, and grappled the Tsal so that the drawn sword was useful only for its light. Now they both tumbled over, and Syrus quickly found himself pinned beneath the Tsal. The face was all shadow, but he could smell the copper scent of blood flowing from its mouth.

"I will crush the life from you, worm."

Both hands seized his throat as the Tsal straddled him. Syrus kicked and wheezed, fighting against arms that were as strong as iron bands.

"Thorgis--help." It took all his breath, but the coward had either fled deeper into the caves or remained in hiding. The Tsal laughed and his fingers tightened slowly.

"I feel the beat of your blood, worm. Soon that blood shall be mine, and your flesh will be made to dance at my whims."

Syrus felt around the Tsal's waist, coming again to the dagger. The loop had already been worked off.

He tore it free then plunged it into the side of the Tsal's neck.

Hot blood sprayed over Syrus's face, and it was bitter and salty in his mouth. The Tsal's grip released and it fell back in shock, hand groping for the blade sunk to the hilt in his neck. In the faint violet light, the Tsal slumped and rolled to the side.

Syrus wheezed and coughed for what seemed hours. When he finally regained himself, he kicked the Tsal's corpse off of his legs and rolled onto his side.

Thorgis's sobs echoed clearly in the cavern. The shimmering violet sword was all the light in this dark, humid world. Syrus stared at it, his hands itching to drive it through Thorgis's cowardly heart.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Grimwold faced south toward the trees at the edge of the village, feeling Lethos's presence but unable to touch his mind. He was aware of the villagers peering out of their homes or barns, staring at him as if he might call the lightning again or transform into a beast like Lethos had. The rain had retreated along with the two Manifested who had brought it. Now weak sunlight sifted down from dark clouds that hung as a sullen reminder of the day's events. The scent of burned thatch carried in the air, and he heard Blund's voice in the distance as he cursed the damage to his hall.

His return to life was not as joyous as he might have expected. The treachery of the two Manifested had nearly cost him his life, which up until a few weeks ago he thought was essentially immortal. Since he had not really grasped immortality, it was easy to go back to believing death was a certainty. Given all he had seen, he might not live even his normal life span much less one of a god.

"Can you contact him?" The girl, Valda, broke her silence. Grimwold shook his head.

"He has barred me from his mind. We can do that to each other. Just like closing a door to a room in a hall you both share. He will come around, though. He's the one who has to talk out all of his worries. Silence doesn't suit him."

"But he seemed so afraid he might lose control." She stepped closer. He could feel her presence behind his right shoulder. "He didn't look like he knew what he was doing."

"He had just been struck by lightning. How was he supposed to look? Even the bull demon lurking in his soul should have been laid low by that. Yet he was still standing, was he not?"

Valda remained quiet, and they both stared blankly at the distant trees. Lethos had not gone berserk after being struck with the lightning. In fact, he had become clearer than ever, as if the bolt had knocked out the demon but left Lethos in his altered shape. Yet he still feared loss of control and had wanted time away from anyone until he could be sure. It was a smart plan, and Grimwold agreed. He just wished Lethos had left his mind open to him.

They had little time to waste.

"When I was--asleep," Grimwold said, unable to name where or what he had been, "I was visited first by Kafara's spirit and then by what I thought was a young boy's ghost. Kafara showed me your troubles, but I chose to aid another who needed it more than you."

He still did not turn but heard Valda's cloak slide over her body as she stood behind him. "After that, the boy distracted me from returning to my body. It turned out this was no boy, but Danir the First Father himself. He had a test for me."

Valda gasped, and Grimwold finally faced her. She was as beautiful as her mother, Siffred, but had her father's stern looks. She was neither tall nor especially strong, yet she had a commanding presence. She could not be ignored even if one wanted to look away. Perhaps she was an echo like his sister had been, capable of limited magic and sometimes not even aware of it. Her pale hand was at her neck and her eyes wide.

"You make quite a boast. Danir appeared to you?"

"I care not what you believe. I know the truth. He gave me a task, one that your father left behind."

"What do you know of my father's life?" She tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes. The determined set of her jaw made her look more like Eldegris.

Grimwold told her of his time between life and death and all that Danir had said. He told her how the god had called himself Phyros and how Urdis the Deceiver had cried out when his mist creature was destroyed. Finally, he told her of the great fire shape of the god and how it had touched him before sending him back and filled his mind with more than could ever be spoken.

"The sword must be retrieved from your brother," he said. "When Danir's hand of fire touched me, he named the place as Tsaldalr and showed me where your brother hides."

Valda's expression had shifted between concentration and amazement during his recounting, but at the mention of her brother it flickered between annoyance and disgust. "Without my father to hide behind, he is no man at all. Why did my father pass the sword onto him?"

"I can't answer for your father," Grimwold said. "But Danir showed me something more in his touch. He showed me you."

"Me?"

"He has visited you, even worked his powers through you. Is this not true?"

"After my father's death, I fought with Avulash. My sword--changed."

"Even before that, you of all Eldegris's children had caught Danir's eye. He showed me, or made me know it. I can't decide which it is. He protected you throughout and lent you strength to survive."

She sniffed and turned aside. "Would that he had intervened for my father. I'd have been happier for that. Why me and not him? Why allow his precious sword to go so far from us?"

Grimwold scratched his head and glanced past her toward the village. Dark shapes of villagers were gathering, and Blund was bringing his men together. Grimwold wondered if Blund might blame him or demand compensation for the damage. The new war chief would soon find out Grimwold had no patience for trifles.

"I must gather together what remains of his old order. You should join me in that task."

"Unless you are prepared to use your powers to force me, I will do no such thing." Her smile lacked any humor. "Valahur needs a leader and it won't be my weakling brother. Danir himself has named Thorgis unworthy. I will not say I should be High Queen, but until we can peacefully settle succession, someone will need to guide the people."

Grimwold gave a dry laugh. "Never has the High King's throne been settled without blood. Even your father had to kill Sigurd to keep his rule strong."

"Then it is time for a change."

"I agree. You will be High Queen. I will ensure it."

She rounded on him. "You will ensure it? Do I rule at your pleasure, then?"

He shrugged. "It seems that as long as I live, any ruler keeps his throne at my pleasure, doesn't it? With my thoughts alone, I can command a king's army to tear him down and put his head upon a spear. I can force a man to cut out his own guts, no matter if he's a king or a fool. Your father knew this, and as simple a man as I am, I realized it only a short time ago. It is no wonder the Manifested leaders want me dead. My power is a threat to any ruler, is it not?"

Despite his deliberately crude depiction of his magic, Valda did not flinch or soften her expression. "I will not be a game piece for your playing board."

"Very good. I have no talent for games. I would flip over a game board and scatter the pieces before I ever played one. You will be High Queen because I see that Danir has favored you. What other war chief can say the same, and what other war chief can defy me if I choose to support you?"

Valda tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. "I doubt there are those who can say as much." Then she blinked rapidly and her eyes glittered with tears. "I want to honor my parents with this. They should not have left the world as they did. And my sisters, too. I don't know if I can bring justice to their memories. I was never to be more than someone to marry off to a troublesome war chief. I do not know how to rule."

"You will find plenty of men willing to help. The most important thing for you is to choose advisers with great care. If Lethos can learn to command his powers, he might be able to weed out the traitorous ones. There will be plenty of those. But you needn't shed tears for a poor rule now, for first we have to secure Danir's sword from your brother. He is far off."

"My father sent him by ship to the south of Avadur. He might as well have sent him to the south of Rao-Kharos instead. Avadur's coast bristles with raiders and desperate men. Raffheim came under rule of the blood-thirstiest of all their war chiefs. We cannot take a direct route, so just like Thorgis, we would have to follow the eastern coast. It will take weeks to find them. Do we have such time?"

"Of course not. You believe the Tsal sank in their ship?"

"Lethos's words, not mine. I saw no ship sink."

"You are right, for Danir also showed me their numbers. They are but a handful, hardly the hall guard of an average war chief, yet each could count as twenty men to ours. Their ship is ruined but not sunk. They have no intention of leaving, for they are preparing the welcome for their kin. They make slaves of men, turning them into something inhuman. I know nothing of how or why they do this. Danir only showed me that the Tsal still lurk here, and that their magic will equal any army we can muster."

"We have to finish them, then go find the sword."

"No, Danir was clear the sword was my highest duty. Also, Syrus is in Tsaldalr. I cannot abandon him to the dangers he is facing, and he has also gathered knowledge of how to stop these Tsal. That will be key. We must go to them first."

They both fell silent. Grimwold watched Blund pacing at the front of his men, clearly eager to hold someone responsible for his damages but too frightened to confront them. A small smile touched Grimwold's lips. Blund was as cautious as he was shrewd. The silence stretched with the unspoken question of how to get to Tsaldalr with the speed they required. Danir had offered him no insight into the challenges, only setting him the task. Perhaps this was another of his tests.

"I know how we will cross to Tsaldalr," Grimwold said even before the full plan had come into his thoughts. "The Tsal themselves will take us there."

"How?" Valda asked.

"I will capture one and force him to take us. They can travel a short time through storms using their blood magic. You saw it, and I know it from what Danir showed me. So that is how we will do it."

"But to fight them, we need the sword first. You just said as much."

"Danir wanted me to collect the sword as my first task. I will only need one of their number to serve as our mule."

"But finding the Tsal might take as long as travel by ship. I don't see how--"

Grimwold's ears filled with a crazed roar so suddenly and loudly that he clamped both hands over his ears. The door that Lethos had closed inside his head now flew open, and the raging beast was just behind it. A blast of images assailed his mind, making him stagger. Valda rushed to steady him, but his eyes had turned inward to see what Lethos sent. He was desperate, as if shoving everything through the opened door before he had to close it once more.

Naked people being herded like cattle. Dead and bloodless children in a pile. Men who were as clear as pristine ice. Lethos had been hobbled, and just before he had he thrust all of this in a spike into Grimwold's mind.

"Are you all right? What's happening?" Valda guided him to his feet. But for the dampness of his knees he would not even know he had fallen.

"It is Lethos. He's in trouble." He looked up at her, his eyes blurry from having stared into another's mind. "He's found the Tsal and they've captured him south of here. We have to go. They mean to kill him."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Lethos awakened to a cold numbness that wrapped his body like a shroud. He was not bound, but his limbs were leaden. He was propped up against a rough wooden wall, legs spread out in the grass. It was as if he had been flung aside like an old sack and forgotten in a corner. Across from him he had a new vantage of the village he had stumbled upon. The naked people had not moved but were now framed against the leafless trees of the surrounding woods rather than their village. He could not see the children anymore.

Instead he saw a cauldron. It was beaten out of time-worn iron, stained from long use, and pressed heavily into the grass. Avulash and his men surrounded it, each one staring raptly at whatever the contents were. Lethos struggled to move but none of his limbs functioned. He tried to open his thoughts to Grimwold, yet he experienced nothing more than cold. It was like trying to shove open a snowed-in door, and he swiftly exhausted himself. Even his head would not move, so he could not look down at the shard of wild stone that had been rammed into his shoulder. It was the source of the coldness in him. He had no concept of how this magic worked other than it had rendered him useless. These storm riders knew how to keep him down.