Iron Axe (31 page)

“After you . . . died, I went to the woods.” Ranadar touched Talfi's face. “I barely come to the palace anymore. The army drove me back here.”

“When you punched that sprite, I nearly swallowed my tonsils,” Talfi laughed.

“Yes, well, I've been waiting to do that for a long time. RigTag Who Sings Over the Stormy Sky was always a bit of a—”

“You have a sword at your neck, elf,” Kalessa reminded him.

“Uh . . . the short story is, we fell in love,” Talfi said. “An elf for a human. Who thought?”

“Stranger things have happened.” Hamzu looked at Aisa, who felt a little flush.

“Look at him with your eye,” Talfi said. “You'll see!”

“Oh! I'm a fool.” Hamzu closed his right eye. Kalessa's sword never wavered, but Aisa held her breath. Hamzu asked, “Would you give up your elven heritage for Talfi, elf?”

Ranadar hesitated for a tiny moment. “Yes.”

“Would you betray your people? Turn traitor for them?”

Traitor,
Aisa thought.

Again, Ranadar hesitated. Talfi took both his hands again. The young man's eyes were full of trust, and Aisa wondered what it would be like to trust someone so completely.

“Yes,” Ranadar said. “There has been nothing for me here for more than a century.”

Hamzu opened his right eye. “He's true. And I don't ever want to look at two people in love again. It's like drinking maple syrup.”

Watch for the—

“Helpful traitor!” Aisa blurted out. “He's the helpful traitor! Death mentioned him.”

“What?” Talfi and Ranadar said at the same time.

“Oh!” Danr clapped his hands hard. “I'd forgotten. Huh. If Death speaks for him, then, I can't say a word.”

Ranadar was looking more confused by the moment. “Death?”

“Never mind,” Aisa said. “Just know that we trust you, based on high authority.”

The doorknob rattled, and someone pounded on the wood. “Open this door, slaves!” came a fairy voice from the other side. “What do you think you're doing in there?”

Everyone tensed. Ranadar, however, raised his voice. “I'm inspecting my merchandise, Joff. Leave me!”

“S-sorry, my lord.” Feet padded hurriedly away.

Kalessa lowered her sword. “We should find the head. Now.”

“What head?” Ranadar put a protective arm around Talfi, who looked ready to both melt and burst at the same time. “What are you talking about?”

Hamzu explained quickly. The more he talked, the paler Ranadar became, until he looked like one of the
draugr.

“The Iron Axe,” he breathed. “You want to piece it back together.”

“What is happening outside?” Hamzu said. “Why is Hunin's army here?”

Ranadar sighed. “My parents and I don't speak much, not since Father killed my
Talashka.
I only know that this King Hunin has brought many human tribes together from all over Balsia. He waves a jeweled skull about and invokes a long-dead hero of some sort, and they fall all over themselves to follow him.”

“Jeweled skull?” Talfi looked at Hamzu. “Didn't you give—?”

“I did,” Hamzu said grimly. “What else?”

“We've heard rumors that the filthy Stane—”

“Watch it,” Danr growled.

“Uh, yes. The . . . mighty Stane are coming out from under the mountain again, and when Mother saw Hunin was raising an army to defend himself, she offered Hunin an alliance, a new treaty. If the humans fight beside us, we will take no more slaves. For a hundred years.” Ranadar cleared his throat. “Once the Stane are crushed—sorry—we'll have peace forever. And the
draugr
will be laid to rest. That's the hope, at any rate.”

A short silence fell over the group as everyone digested this. Aisa fingered the haft. She had come to know every bump and every grain on its surface in the last several days.

“I do not like this,” she said at last.

“No,” Kalessa agreed. “We are missing something. Something powerful. The Fae would never ally with Kin. They see Kin as slaves or prey, not equals.”

Ranadar shrugged. “When the Stane emerge, blinking and weak from their time underground, they will find two armies awaiting them. And we know the orcs are coming, but we outnumber both. You will have no hope.”

“It won't be as easy as you think,” said Hamzu with a sad pride. “Once the Stane have finished using the
draugr
to force the doors open, they'll keep using the
draugr
to fight the war.”

“Mother is an excellent strategist, and Father is a powerful magician, so I can't imagine they haven't thought of this,” Ranadar said. He was touching Talfi's hair, as if he still couldn't believe it was real. “But I also can't tell you what they might plan to do about it.”

“We need to put the Axe together,” Hamzu said. “Once we've done that, we'll know where the power is hidden, and it won't matter who can do what to whom.”

“Will you help, Ran?” Talfi asked. “Can you help?”

“You ask a great deal,
Talashka
.”
The arrogant look left Ranadar's face and he gave a smile that was both frightened and hopeful at the same time. “When your blood spilled across the floor, I thought my life would end. All I could think was that I would never see you again, and how much I hated my parents. And when I saw you on the doorstep, I thought at first you were one of those terrible
draugr
, and then I simply could not believe it, and then I
had
to believe it. The Good Gardeners, the Fates, have handed me a second chance, and I will not throw it away.”

“Even if it means trading away your entire country,” Aisa couldn't help asking. “That seems terribly selfish, even for a prince.”

“It's utterly selfish.” Ranadar tightened his arm around Talfi's shoulder, and Aisa's hunger growled within her at the sight. “When have elves been anything but?”

“Hmm,” said Aisa.

Hamzu was pressing an ear to the door. “We should move. Is the haft still pulling you toward the head, Aisa?”

She nodded. It still felt strange to show him her bare face.

“Then it seems a good chance that once the Axe is back together, it'll lead us to the power. And it won't matter whose army is biggest.”

“What exactly do you intend to do with that Axe once you have it?” Ranadar asked.

Aisa saw Hamzu struggle for a moment, but the truth-teller in him was forced to answer. “I will free Death from her chains, and I will stand before all the armies and tell them that anyone who tries to make war will pay with their lives.” He glanced at Aisa. “And I will tell the elves they can have no more slaves.”

“Very nice,” Ranadar said. “And then?”

“Then?”

“Yes. What will you do next, great one?” Ranadar's voice
was soft and steady, and Aisa could not tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. “What will you do when Death roams free, and the blood of those who disobey you stains the forest red, and my people have run home with their tails between their legs?”

“I . . . don't know,” Hamzu said.

“Ran,” Talfi said.

“You will own the most powerful weapon the world has ever known,” Ranadar continued. “A weapon that can crack a continent. A weapon even the gods fear. What will you do with it?”

Hamzu took a step backward. “I don't have to
do
anything.”

“A year from now, if the elves decide to invade Xaron,” Ranadar said, “would you stop them?”

“Of course!”

“And if the orcs decided to invade Alfhame? Would you stop them?”

“I . . . suppose.”

“And if the Third Nest tried to raid the poorer Seventh Nest for their ragged sheep and goats, would you stop them?”

Hamzu's voice was shaky. “Probably. If I knew about it.”

“What gives you the right to do any of it?”

And Hamzu remained silent. The room filled with silence. It hung in the steamy air, heavier than the mist.

Aisa stared. Ranadar had asked Hamzu a direct question, and he had not answered. His compulsion to tell the full truth had not forced him to speak.

“There is no true way to answer your question,” Hamzu said at last. He sounded sad and tired.

“No,” Ranadar said. “You needed to be aware of that.”

Hamzu slumped to a bench. Aisa quietly sat next to him but didn't speak.

“Speaking of truth,” Kalessa said, “I would like to know how we will leave this place once we have the Axe. We have
had no chance to plan an escape, and I have the feeling we will be heavily pursued the moment we find the head.”

“We will Twist,” Ranadar sniffed. “Honestly.”

This brought Aisa's head around. “You can Twist?”

“All elves can Twist, at least a little. There is plenty of power in this tree. I will open a portal, and we can go.”

“Why didn't you Twist away when you wanted to escape with Talfi the first time around?”

Here Ranadar actually dropped his eyes. “Because . . . I was a coward. I hesitated, and Father was able to seize control of the Twist. Then he killed my
Talashka
, and it didn't seem worth it to leave. Nothing was worth anything.”

“But it's different now,” Talfi said, taking his hand. “We're all different. Let's find the other half of the Axe.”

T
he drums throbbed in Danr's head and heart, growing more and more powerful. They made him want to smash and rip and tear. His awful monster half demanded to come out, and he worked hard to keep it under control.

“Where is everyone?” Kalessa whispered. “We haven't even seen any slaves since the bath.”

“Who cares?” Talfi said. “We have it easy for once. Let's go.”

The hall ended in the throne room. They entered behind Aisa, who held the haft before her.

Like the rest of the palace, the throne room seemed to be deserted. The dark, burnished wood reflected high, arched windows that showed the bloody sun as it dipped down to touch Lake Nu. High above the sun, the stars that made up Urko were merging into a bright comet.

In the center of the room was a large round table of stone. Strange objects covered it. Curious and apprehensive, Danr crossed to it, his bare feet padding on the wood, and discovered a lifelike model of the city of Palana and its surroundings spread across the surface. Lake, trees, grassy plain—all there. There were even tiny tents and miniature
men to show where the Kin were camped. The men moved, and Danr jumped back, startled.

“It's a projection,” Ranadar said, joining him. “Father created it so he can see from up here everything that happens down there. Sometimes I think he imagines himself to be Rolk or Olar, watching the little people down below.”

Aisa joined him at the table, standing between Danr and Ranadar. For a moment, Danr thought she might take his hand in that thrilling way of hers. Then he saw her eyes cut to Ranadar and his impossibly handsome face. Desire flickered across her features before she could suppress it, and he felt an unexpected heat of jealousy, accented by the drums. It wasn't fair. Only now was he able to see her face, and on it he saw desire for someone else. He knew her feelings were false, that none of this was Aisa's or Ranadar's fault, but right then he wanted to snap the elf's neck.

“Are you all right, Aisa?” he asked gruffly.

“I will be,” she said, “once we piece the Axe together.”

Kalessa glanced about nervously. “We are not safe here.”

“We are perfectly safe.” Ranadar sniffed. “I'm the prince. If anyone comes in, you are here at my bidding.”

The people on the projection continued to move. The sun was setting at the edge of the table, pushing shadows across the lake and into the forest. Among the human army flitted a number of miniature glowing sprites. Dozens and dozens of them.

“Look at all the sprites,” Talfi said. “Are they providing light for the camp?”

“Maybe they're lighting the way for that elf.” Danr pointed to a spot near the lake. A tiny elven woman, resplendent in green and golden robes, strode down to the water with a scepter. More than a dozen tiny elves in bronze armor accompanied her. Other elves, hundreds of them, spread out in the forest behind. Fairies and human slaves stood with them.

“That's Mother,” Ranadar said. “I don't understand.”

“It explains why the palace is empty,” Aisa said.

The drums throbbed harder in Danr's head. “Maybe it has something to do with the doors opening.”

“How can it?” Aisa said. “They are many days' travel away.”

“Your mother is the queen?” Danr said to Ranadar.

“You should refer to her as Her Majesty, Queen Gwylph.”

“Who's that with her?” He pointed to a human standing beside Gwylph. His finger brushed the projection and he felt a quiet
wrench
, nowhere near as bad as a Twist, and abruptly he was standing on the shore of the lake. Trees reached across the slender beach to the water, and low waves lapped against pale sand. All the people Danr had seen, including Gwylph and the human figure, burst into full size. Danr felt hard boards beneath his feet instead of sand, however, and he realized he was experiencing the projection as a life-size image.

“—ready to begin any moment,” the queen was saying. Up close, her perfect beauty was overwhelming. Her hair was spun from flax and gold; her eyes shone like jewels from the Stane treasury. Danr wanted to fall to his knees before her. “As soon as I receive the proper signal from my lord husband.”

“Excellent,” said Hunin. He was the human standing next to the resplendent queen, and he wore a king's violet cloak and gold crown instead of armor, no doubt because the elves wouldn't allow iron armor or weapons within their borders. The mourning ring, however, still made a black circle on his left hand. Behind him, on a litter chair carried by four soldiers, sat White Halli. His bruises had faded, of course, though he still had splints on his arm and leg. He was dressed in blue and gold, and even had a sword at his waist, but he'd been strapped to the chair to keep him upright, and his eyes remained vacant. A bit of drool oozed from the
corner of his mouth. Guilt weighed black and heavy on Danr at the sight.

Hunin continued. “I—we—look forward to watching their blood flow, Majesty.”

The sound of his voice jarred Danr from the half trance created by guilt and the queen's loveliness, and a pang jerked his heart. So it was true. Hunin had crowned himself king and brought great armies of humans here to Palana in Alfhame, all because he hated all Stane for what one of them had done to his son. He was obviously using Halli as a rallying point. For how many speeches had Hunin propped up his son in front of a crowd and shouted about the terrible Stane?

“Don't do this, my lord,” Danr said hoarsely. “Please.”

Both of them turned. Hunin clapped his hand to his bronze sword, and Queen Gwylph pointed her scepter. The other elves behind them came alert in a rattle of bronze. Only now that Danr had spoken did they seem to notice he was there. Hunin recovered himself first.

“What are you doing here?” he growled. “Did someone scrape you off a boot?”

The queen narrowed her perfect eyes. “He isn't truly here, Hunin. This is a projection. From my own throne room, if I'm not mistaken.” With a fluid move, she swept her scepter through Danr's chest. It passed through him without a ripple. Danr felt nothing. “The time is very close now. Have you found your head, boy?”

Danr stared at her. He had to answer, but he didn't understand the question. “What are you talking about?”

“Poor child. Your head is made of clay and your brain is made of the cattle manure you shoveled up,” she said with a tiny smile. “I mean the
Axe
, child. Did you find the Axe head yet?”

“No,” he was forced to blurt. “How did you know we were looking for it?”

“The sprites are good at ferreting out secrets, and you travel so slow, slower than the rest of your kind.” From anyone else, this would have sounded like a snarled curse, but from her, it sounded like silk gliding across marble. “Seek it all you like. You're short on time, and soon it won't matter what you find. When we're done down here, we'll find you up there.”

“This isn't right,” Danr said. “Lord Hunin, you've joined with the people who have taken thousands of slaves from the Kin and—”

“I miss Papa!” Rudin interrupted. He was standing between Hunin and White Halli's chair. “He's the monster who hurt Papa!”

Hunin's face was hard. “He did, and his kind will pay.”

Something about the boy felt wrong. His words were too careful, too ready. And what was such a young child doing here, anyway? Hunin should have left him at home, or back in their tent. In a blink, Danr closed his right eye and looked at Rudin.

The boy's face and body twisted. He swirled into a formless blur of light and chaos. A shape-shifting sprite. Danr slumped his shoulder. He should have guessed. He should have checked. Rudin, whose badly timed words had stopped Danr from forging an alliance between the humans and the Stane in the first place. His words hadn't been so badly timed after all.

“When did Rudin die, Lord Hunin?” Danr asked quietly.

“I am king, you lying whelp,” Hunin barked.

“That's right,” the queen said smoothly. “He's nothing but the son of a troll's whore. He shouldn't even be speaking to someone with your greatness.”

“I miss my papa,” the false Rudin said, sniffling.

“You're not looking at the truth,” Danr said through clenched teeth.

Hunin drew his sword and pointed it at Danr's throat. His black mourning ring weighed his finger down. The other elves watched intently but made no move to interfere. “You destroyed my son's life, Trollboy,” he said. “Now you'll pay. You can't save your slave slut. You can't save your people. You can't save yourself. You were born worthless, you lived worthless, and when you die, you will slink into Halza's icy presence and beg to drink from her cesspool.”

The words should have pierced Danr and slashed him to the bone. But even with both eyes open, he saw nothing but a small, frightened man driven by pain and desperation, a man who had missed true greatness by inches. Danr felt more pity for him than anything else. He felt the truth welling up inside him, and even though no one had asked a question, he spoke.

“You could have been a great king,” he said quietly. “Instead you won't live to see the sun set.”

“You make
threats
?” Hunin was almost howling.

“I'm leaving,” Danr said. “But first, have you thought about who should give your grandson the warrior's blessing?”

“I—what?”

“He's a scary monster!” Rudin said. “He frightens me!”

“This is Rudin's first war, isn't it? He should have Fell's blessing from his father.” Danr gave a hard grin. “But I nearly killed his father. And your grandson will go into battle without Fell's blessing on his head. Too bad. Human.”

“Listen here.” Gwylph raised her scepter, but Hunin was too fast for her. He raised his sword to Rudin and reached out with his left hand.

“Fell's blessing be upon you as you enter—” Hunin's left hand, and the iron ring on it, touched the top of Rudin's head before the boy could react. Rudin screamed. His face and
body melted into liquid light. His scream melted into a liquid gurgle. Hunin snatched his hand back as the sprite slumped into a squirming mass on the ground.

“Rolk and Olar,” the queen muttered.

Hunin's mouth fell open. Danr closed his right eye and saw the pieces falling into place for him, watched him realize how one of the slavers had killed Rudin during one of the many trips through Skyford, how one of the sprites who always accompanied the slavers had taken the boy's place, how the sprite had carefully goaded Hunin with both words and Fae glamours into refusing an alliance with the Stane, into assembling armies and marching them to Palana, all to benefit the Fae. But for what reason? Hunin didn't know, and Danr couldn't fathom it, either.

White Halli gasped from his chair. His eyes cleared and he blinked rapidly. “What's happened? Where—?”

Hunin spun, his sword still out. Shock whitened his face. The soldiers holding up the litter chair hastened to put it down. “Halli! How?”

“I didn't hurt him as much as everyone thought,” Danr said, and the load of guilt he'd been carrying evaporated into air. “The sprite was keeping him under a glamour so you'd ally with the Fae and war against the Stane. You broke the spell when you touched the sprite with iron.”

“Father?” Halli struggled against the bindings, and the soldiers worked to cut him free, though he couldn't stand with the splint on his leg. “What's happening? How did I get here? Where's Rudin?”

Hunin turned to the queen, his face filled with conflicting emotions—fury, pain, horror. “You! How dare you play with me this way!”

“It would have been easier to replace you yourself with a sprite, my king”—her curled lip let him know what she thought of the title—“but only a human with your charisma
and speaking skills could have assembled such an army for us, and we thank you most kindly. Can you understand? You Kin always have a role to play in the wars of your betters. You just need to be persuaded to play it.”

“Always tricking us, always preying upon us.” Hunin was ignoring Danr now. “Our alliance is ended! I will take my army to the Stane, and—”

The queen touched him with her scepter. Hunin dropped to his knees, limp as a pile of rags. His eyes went shiny, and a line of drool slid from the corner of his mouth. He looked the way White Halli had a moment ago.

“Father!” Halli tried to stand but couldn't. The queen motioned at him. He and the soldiers went limp as well.

“You underestimate your importance, Hunin, now that your army has arrived.” Gwylph touched the injured sprite with her scepter. It sprang into the air and swirled into a new shape—Hunin in his scarlet robe and gold crown. “Very good, RikiTak Who Glides Over Water. You'll do for the next few moments. As for you—” She turned to Danr. “You are—”

But Danr pulled his hand back from the projection. With another little
wrench
, he found himself back in the throne room. Everyone was gathered around him, and he became aware that Aisa and Kalessa were pulling on his arms, but they hadn't been able to budge him.

“I'm all right,” he said. “You can stop.”

They let go. Aisa demanded, “What happened?”

He told them, in terse sentences.

“Huh,” said Talfi. “That's . . . I don't know what that is.”

“The humans are here because the Fae want them here,” Danr said, “but I don't know what they're planning. The queen has also figured out where we are.”

“Then we must find the head quickly,” Kalessa said. “Do you know where it is, elf?”

“I don't,” Ranadar admitted. “Father always said it wasn't a toy for children.”

Aisa held out the haft. It pulled at her, and she followed it toward the high, thin chair that made up the throne. Beside the throne on a small table was a box the size of a small treasure chest. It looked to be made of sheets of jade inlaid with gold leaves. The haft came around of its own accord, pointing at the box like a compass orienting on north. Danr came to stand beside her. Outside, the stars had come together into a single, bright point of light.