Iduna (2 page)

She stood still where he had left her, her head tilted slightly as if listening to the wind. Blue butterflies flitted about in the garden. She would admit to herself that, in addition to thinking the council should assess the threat, she was also curious about her Ull heritage. She had never met anyone else from Ull. Their lands were far away, and the Ull tended not to travel, which was odd considering her mother and father had loved to travel. Her parents had joked about how content the Ull were to stay at home.

The Ull were content no longer.

Vilir surveyed his camp as the sun sank below the green mountains of Gaelen. Everyone but him seemed to be moving, setting up their tents, gathering supplies, and stowing their weapons. After swarming the Castle Gaelen, the Ull moved to the hills just to the south. Vilir wouldn't be able to see the castle, and that was what he wanted. Its weakness revolted him.

His servants erected his tent behind him as he stood with legs and arms akimbo, his stance yet another statement that he felt powerful and a master of all the space around him. And he was. The echoes of violence buzzed through him, a strong hum that made him feel more alive than anyone in the world. A cool breeze blew steadily through the hills, and Vilir enjoyed the cold. It was nowhere near as cold as his icy homeland, but it would do for now.

“Your tent is ready.”

He turned and pulled back the tent flap to enter. His people served him, and he approved that they didn't do such small things as open doors for him. It was a tribute to his strength and self-sufficiency, a value from his youth that he still treasured. His other values had changed now that he saw the world more clearly.

His dog trotted in and was quickly followed by his adviser, Senbo. He noticed that Senbo looked tired but triumphant. As he should.

Senbo had come to Vilir a year ago on hands and knees. Vilir had found the groveling strange at first, but later he understood why that was the way it should be. The weak worship the strong, creating a stable order that would be his country’s salvation.

“That went very well.” Senbo brushed some of the dirt off his tunic and sat in one of the fur- covered chairs.

Ignoring Senbo, Vilir stepped over to a stool and began sharpening his sword.

“They’re digging deeper trenches than usual. Why would they do that?” Senbo continued in his oblique way.

“I told them to.” The ring of stone on blade emphasized each sweep of the stone across the sharp edge. The sound and texture of the action was intoxicating in Vilir’s state of increased awareness.

Senbo stood up and walked around.

Vilir wished Senbo would sit or be gone. Vilir’s dog curled up next to him, and he appreciated the silent companionship.

“Good, good. Very smart. Your people will regain their energy and become a resource for you again. Of course!”

Vilir focused on his task. “I will put the weak out of their misery.” A spark leaped from the sword as his sharpening stone struck.

Iduna stared into the fire and enjoyed the patterns her friend Tinh was making. The fire arced and popped.

The Institute in Cha had a number of libraries to choose from— this library wasn’t the largest, but Tinh and Iduna had been meeting here since they were kids and it was frequently empty. It stood near the junction of the Elementalist and Spellcraft wings. The library contained both a collection of books for reading and an assortment of elements for manipulations. There was a small shallow pool of water with a fire pit in its center. The library—with its dark paneled wood, low ceiling with exposed beams, and large leather chairs—had been their space to share secrets and aspirations when they were kids, and they’d continued this ritual. They had grown apart as each spent more time in the different disciplines, but they still sought each other at important moments.

“Why would they even talk to you about going if the Head Elementalist was against it?” Tinh—lanky, with dark curly hair and a sharp nose that looked as decisive as its owner—lounged in a deep chair, casually making the fire in the pit grow and recede. “It seems like they would have known that they wouldn't be able to agree, so why bring you into the room?”

“Maybe they thought Reza had agreed, and then Reza changed his mind,” Iduna said.

“Reza doesn’t change his mind often. He’s not a spontaneous man,” Tinh said, shaking his head, apparently having trouble imagining Reza doing anything remotely spontaneous. Everyone knew that Reza was as steady and predictable as the rocks he could beckon to his command.

“You're right. He's not. And you're also right that something seems wrong. If Gaelen has fallen to the Ull, then we need to know how and whether the Ull plan on invading us. Gaelen is a strong country with many defenses and a large army. To defeat them would have required great strength,” she said.

“Or magic,” Tinh said.

“No, that's not possible. The Ull do not cultivate magic skills like we do in Lawan. They prefer to do all their work and fighting by hand. They are a content people who think magic would put them out of sync with nature.”

“They
were
a contented people,” Tinh said with emphasis on the past tense, mirroring what she had silently told herself earlier.

She thought of her parents and the tales of their cold homeland. Her parents had been peaceful traders, who enjoyed learning about different cultures. They would hate to know that the Snow Elves of Ull had fallen to ambition and a rule of strength. Ull was now known as a land of violence and of primitive people. Their civilization had regressed to infancy, if infancy were a loud screaming child who wouldn't share any toys and would more likely tear apart a doll than play with it. The change had been sudden, and no one knew why. The question had been a dormant seed in her mind, and the curious meeting with the council leaders had caused it to sprout and grow like a vine weaving unchecked through crooked fences.

“The behavior of the council was too strange.”

Sensei Angko was understated, subtle, and, as in the current case, undecipherable. She didn’t know what to make of Angko’s words after the meeting or whether to share them with Tinh. Angko knew she was inclined toward action, for better or worse, so mentioning the need for Advanced Spells and to keep an open mind could be seen as encouraging her to go on a fact-finding mission.

“We need to know what is going on. Since I am of Ull descent and a Spellcrafter, I am clearly the person best suited to find out,” she said out loud and wandered over to the window.

“That may be true, but the council is not ready,” Tinh said. His voice was flat and dispassionate, but Iduna could sense Tinh’s growing wish that she be patient.

“I owe it to my parents,” Iduna said, looking at the mountain range that separated Lawan from Gaelen. The mountains were spotted here and there with snow holding over from the winter. “It is my duty.”

“Surat never should have encouraged your curiosity and exploits,” Tinh said.

Iduna laughed, a welcome release from the growing tension. Surat had indeed encouraged Iduna, sending her to find special ingredients for recipes, and had always laughed at Iduna’s stories. Iduna’s parents had been traders in edible delicacies, traveling the trade route between Lawan and Ull. When Iduna was an infant, her parents left her in Lawan when they traveled, but, once she could toddle, they would frequently take her on day trips to the surrounding areas to trade and gather.

Surat had also given Iduna a purpose and a feeling that someone cared about her as a person instead of as just another acolyte to feed. When she was nine years old and had just lost both her parents, that had meant everything to her. It still did.

To Tinh she said, “Ah, but Surat liked the herbs, spices, and delicacies I had a knack to hunt down for her.”

“You really do have a talent for it”—Tinh’s brief smile quickly turned into flat disapproval—“but you know curiosity is one of the Impulsives.”

“The pursuit of knowledge is noble and wise,” she quoted.

“All action best flows from consensus,” he quoted back to her.

Done with quoting philosophy, Iduna said, “But consensus may come too late.” She’d made her decision. “I'll leave tonight.” Her mind rushed ahead to her preparations and how she would discover what the Ull were planning. “Thank you for not telling or trying to stop me.”

“I'd just fail.” Tinh sighed. “Remember your training. Remember the Path.” His eyes showed the briefest flash of affection. Within the span of a blink, Tinh was completely focused on manipulating the fire, as calmly and analytically as if she'd already left and had never even been here. On her way out, Iduna put her hand on his arm, surprising even herself with the gesture. “Don't worry. Everything will be fine,” she whispered and slipped out quietly.

She needed to do this, and she couldn't let Lawan be in danger when it was in her power to assess the threat. She was the only Ull at the Institute, and her skills were advanced. The council would end up wanting her to do this in about a month or so when they could all agree on what was the obvious course of action. They would thank her.

Vilir swung his sword in a series of attacks, his arms a whirlwind of movement and might. Dagna parried quickly again and again, but he was slowly pressing her ever backward in the training pen. She was losing ground, and he’d soon have her up against the rail. If he were lucky. He knew her well, and it wouldn’t be easy. The thrill of the challenge put extra strength in his next swing. She dodged and rolled, coming up to his side. He directed the continuing arc of his blade over his head. She swung the flat of her blade against the back of his knees and toppled him to the ground. As he fell, he grabbed her belt and pulled her with him into a rolling somersault. She landed face-first in the wet spring grass, and he twisted her arm up behind her, bringing her hand between her shoulder blades.

“Ha!” he said, while he gave her arm an extra tug that he knew would hurt. “You are defeated.”

She bucked back hard, a popping sound coming from her shoulder, and smashed the back of her skull into his face.

He laughed as blood streamed from his broken nose, his ice-blue eyes sparkling with humor. “And that’s why you’re one of my seconds in command!” The woman had dislocated her own arm so she could jerk back far enough to strike him.

He released his grip on her arm and stepped away.

Dagna rose to her feet like a warrior rising from the halls of Odin.

He had made a good choice. She was a skilled and cunning sparring partner; he needed that to keep him strong. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and he strode out of the ring. It was a good day. He felt strong from the fight. He would bathe in the river and review the maps. He was making his way to the river when Senbo strolled next to him.

“My Leder, another of our young fighters succumbed,” Senbo said.

“We can’t keep losing them. We brought them with us because they are valuable.” A sour taste entered his mouth and turned his stomach.

“I know. This is regrettable. You have my word that I will do my best to save them.”

“Do better,” Vilir said and entered his tent.

Iduna’s horse scrabbled up the last of the steep rocky trail that led to the top of the mountain ridge dividing Lawan and Gaelen. The horse’s haunches bunched and strained to make a last lunge for the top. It had been rough going, and both rider and horse had pulses racing from the exertion and hours of precarious footing. The trail hadn’t been cleared since the end of winter, which was unusual. It was true that most trade went by sea, since both Gaelen and Lawan lay on the coast, but traders usually maintained this route.

Now Iduna was wishing she could have taken a ship, but who knew what the ports were like, and she needed to be discreet.

Cresting the ridge, Iduna reined the horse to a welcome stop and looked back from where she came. All of Lawan was spread below her. She’d not been up here since she was a child, and she’d forgotten just how stunning the view was. The golden towers of Cha shone brightly under the midday sun, sitting in the center of Lawan like the gleaming gem of a crown. At the far horizon, Lawan met the ocean to the east and, to the south, another mountain range hemmed in the country.

The spires and terraced roofs of the Institute were gilded with gold, looking regal and ethereal to her eyes. She thought of her life there, the contentment she had found studying the nuances of spellcrafting and the Advanced Spells. For the last ten years, that had been her world. She shook off a shiver of trepidation, and her horse jostled slightly beneath her. His breathing had slowed, and he was ready to go. The air was thinner up here and unsettling. With a nudge and an encouraging click of her tongue, the horse continued on the trail, and they headed down into Gaelen.

The temperature dropped quickly as she descended into the land of green valleys. Gaelen was cool and misty, whereas Lawan was warm and dry except for the rainy season. Her parents had taken her through the pass a few times when she was little, and she recalled how surprised she’d been then by the difference.

She had no plan.

The thought struck her as odd as she sat calmly atop the horse. She really had no plan. Well, maybe this was part of acting in the real world that Reza had talked about. Iduna had gotten this far, and she was an advanced wizard. She’d packed lightly and brought mostly cold-weather clothes. The weather was kind for traveling but would become more unpredictable the farther north she went. Early spring added its own type of uncertainty to the mix.

She rode all day, with short breaks for the horse to rest and brief meditations for herself. The border areas were sparsely populated, and it would be a while before she could expect to encounter people. The third night she stopped at Logi, the closest inn to the border that also sat at the crossroads between the north- and eastward-bound trails. She should be able to get an idea about which direction to pursue.

The thatched inn was set in a small clearing immediately surrounded by woods. Creeping vines seemed to be taking it over. She dismounted and passed the reins of her horse to the stable-hand. He took the reins but looked at her mutely longer than was comfortable, his focus on her hair and ears.

“Ma’am, I’m not sure if we have room.”

Iduna peered around him into the stable. “There’s an empty stall up front.”

He looked behind him, and a flush rose up his neck. The people of Gaelen, with their red hair and fair complexions, showed all their emotions. Before the border had become quiet and news from Gaelen had come to a halt, she’d seen people from Gaelen from time to time in Cha and had never understood them. They seemed to be ever-changing. As defenders of Lawan, Spellcrafters sometimes found themselves as keepers of the peace. Most of the brawls she’d ever had to deal with in Cha involved someone from Gaelen. Their manner was so contrary to the Path. In Lawan, only Lawanian children expressed any emotion, and, to be honest, she was actually the only child she remembered expressing feelings. It was completely unfathomable to her that adults would be such pools of turmoil. She didn’t know exactly what to make of the stable-hand’s heightened color but filed away the piece of information.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll put him in there for you,” he said.

She barely caught what he had said as he spoke the words in a low grumble.

“Thank you,” she said and bowed. The man left without reciprocating. Of course, she thought and berated herself for her lapse. People in Gaelen didn’t bow. She’d have to start blending in and remember the lessons from her parents.

The bottom floor of the inn was a large dining area with rows of tables and a bar on the side. There weren’t many people and the room felt oppressive. She chose a table, sat on the bench, dropped her bags on the floor, and tossed her coat and scarves on the seat next to her. The air smelled of fresh bread and spilled ale. She soaked in the sounds around her. A violinist was playing a sedate tune, and a quiet murmur resonated from the few conversations between patrons.

The innkeeper came to take her order. “What do you … Wait now, are you little Iduna?”

“It is good to see you, Mr. O’Bryan.”

“And I you. It’s been years. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. And you?”

“Busier than ever. I was sorry to hear about your parents. They were good folk. Always bringing me the cream of the crop. Always fair. What can I do for you?”

“I'd like a room for the night, food, and I have one horse with me.”

He looked around the room before turning his attention back to her. “I should be able to find a spot for you. Today's special is root stew and beer bread. Hannah made it this morning. Do you remember playing with Hannah when you were little?”

“I remember her well. Is she still unable to stick to the recipe?”

“Yes,” he said with pride.

“Then I'll take an extra large serving, please.” She smiled up at him. He laughed and shook his head as he turned away to make arrangements.

As soon as he left, two men stood up from the table across from her. One man came to stand behind her and put his meaty hands on her shoulders, while the other slithered into the seat across from her. Her shoulders tensed automatically at the invasion, and her pulse began to thump deeply.

“What are you doing here, you Ull trash?” the man across from her asked. His green eyes were rimmed in red, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. He reeked of desperation, and the taut muscles of his neck and hands on the table seemed ready for violence.

People at the tables around her had all turned. Benches scraped the wooden floor as men pushed back from their tables and came to stand around her. They weren’t coming to her defense. She heard mutters of “Ull,” “white hair,” “get what she deserves.”

“Answer him,” said the man behind her as his hands clenched her shoulders painfully. The pressure was brutal, and she stopped the cry from leaving her lips. His cruelty demanded an answer.

“No.”

With a quick jerk, Iduna twisted her torso to face him and hurled her body weight into him in a manipulative flip that had him falling awkwardly on the bench.

She didn’t let up.

She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him so he was arching back over the tabletop. She sat straddling his legs and swapped her two-hand grip on his shoulders for a forearm pressed sharply into his collarbone. It wasn’t her weight or the placement of her arm that would keep him down. In her other hand, fire whooshed from the hearth to sit in her palm, a roiling ball of flames so close to the man’s face that beads of sweat were already forming on his upper lip.

She looked around the circle of spectators. Thankfully they had all taken a step back, even this man’s partner, who had hopped up and was standing two strides away. It gave her some air and a better chance of slipping out.

She returned her attention to the man beneath her. “That was rude of you,” she said.

He snarled in response.

“Why did you attack me?” she asked him.

“Us? You …” His face turned a deep red, and the vein twitched in his forehead. “You elves attack our villages and storm our castle, kill our king, and you ask what possessed us?” He gritted his teeth and said in a low, charged voice, “You are the one to blame here.”

Her tether of calm started to slip. Her Ull heritage had made her an outsider in Lawan, but she had never felt so much hate directed at her. It was unnerving. Her throat felt thick, and it was hard to swallow. She couldn’t lose control now, inside, with all these people. The fire, all these people pressed close, the results would be disastrous. It hadn’t happened in years. She knew what to do. Pushing down her emotions, she forced a calm that ran through her forehead, her jaw, her fingers, and her toes.

“Okay,” she said, and yet the grumbling around her rose. “I’m leaving. Now.”

She climbed off the man while keeping the flaming threat in one hand. Snapping up her bag and scarf with the other hand, she slowly backed from the hall. Scanning the faces, all she saw was hate. “I am leaving.”

The fresh air outside hit her like a cold shower. She gulped in the air for a moment and savored its clean, sharp taste. She had to get out of here. Heading to the stable, she now understood the stable-hand’s attitude and hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with him, too. With a whole inn full of people bent on hating her, she couldn’t afford any delay. Her best chance was to enter the stable quietly. She dispersed her fireball and opened the door to the stable bit by bit.

Her night vision was horrible due to her recent exposure to open flame. It couldn’t be helped. She crept into the stable and was thankful hers was the first stall. Her horse whinnied. She reached into the darkness to open his gate.

Fumbling in the black, she placed her hand on the door.

Without a sound, a hand settled on top of hers.

“Iduna, it’s me.”

“Who?” she asked. “I can’t see anything in here.”

“Mr. O’Bryan. I’m so sorry about what happened inside.”

The tight coil of fear loosened slightly inside her. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t realize the Ull had taken the castle. The Gaelen armies are notoriously strong. How did this happen?”

“I honestly don’t know. The massive loss at Castle Gaelen has been brutally hard to accept. People are in a foul mood. I just hope they will learn to move on. We have to rebuild.”

“Are the Ull coming here? Why aren’t the survivors going over the pass into Lawan?”

“Rumor has it that the Ull used magic. Everyone knows Lawanians use magic. The Gaelen people are afraid of going from the frying pan into the fire. Lawan scares them now, too.”

A man shouted outside. Others echoed his call.

“Your horse is saddled and ready to go,” said Mr. O’Bryan.

“Thank you, friend.”

They clasped hands briefly before she grabbed the reins of her horse and led him out the back of the stable.

She slipped onto her horse with a smooth motion and moved away from the stable at a quiet walk just as men with torches entered the front. Sounds of raised voices and shouts followed. Kicking the horse to a gallop, soon all she could hear was the staccato pounding of horse hooves carrying her far away. The sounds of pursuit had faded, but she still felt chased.

The fear of who the Ull had become drove her to ride through the night.