Iron Axe (35 page)

“Life must balance out. Talfi could come back, but for every day he lives past his allotted time, someone else must lose a day.”

“Take my remaining days,” Ranadar said instantly. “Give them to him.”

“How about half?” Death snapped her fingers. “Be alive!”

Talfi flickered. A swirl of stars surrounded him, trailing bits of light. His feet lifted off the floor and an unseen breeze tousled his hair. He gasped sharply once, twice, and a third time. Then he came to rest on the floor. Ranadar caught him, and this time he was solid. Danr, Aisa, and Kalessa ran forward and caught him up as well. Danr's heart swelled until he thought it might burst.

“Hey!” Talfi protested. “Not so hard!”

They separated, and Aisa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Tears streamed down Ranadar's cheeks, and he seemed not at all ashamed. “What do you remember,
Talashka
?”

Talfi thought. “Everything. Well, everything from the time I came to Skyford. And my time with you in Palana, Ran. The other stuff is . . . blurry.”

“Queen Vesha, come forth,” said Death.

Vesha flinched, then visibly steeled herself and stepped forward under the low ceiling. Danr watched her come with mixed emotions. She had caused all this, but she had also
needed
to cause all this. He could see her now, the queen, representing her people.

“I accept your consequences, lady,” Vesha said in a rock-level voice. “I only beg that you lay them on me and not my people. They only did as I ordered them.”

“Your people have reaped many rewards and paid many consequences,” Death said. “Restoring your balance was difficult. They and the humans have been Twisted back to their homelands where they belong, while the Fae slink through their ruined city. The doors under the mountain remain open, yet no one will make war for quite some time.”

“Yes, lady,” said Vesha. From her voice, she might have been discussing a harvest of mushrooms, though a tremor crossed her hands.

“But you may not escape what you have done.” Death's own voice deepened. Ice curled through it, and a palpable cold pushed against Danr's bones. His teeth chattered in his head and his insides shriveled. Death hadn't moved from her chair, but her presence thundered through the room. Danr's knees weakened, and he felt like a gnat that didn't see the boot about to tread on it. “Know, then, little queen, that I will not come for you out of old age or disease or injury. I will not come today, or tomorrow, or in a hundred years. Instead I will come for you at the very moment you set foot above the mountain. Be
cursed.
”

The last word thudded through the cavern like a bolder. In the silence that followed, the cold retreated. Danr swallowed, and the color left Vesha's face. She had spent her entire life wishing to leave the warrens under the mountain. Now her life would end the moment she did so. Vesha sank to the floor with her hands over her face. Suddenly Death didn't seem so kindly anymore.

“So, then,” Death said as if she had just realized someone might want a berry tart, “it seems to me that I may need someone to act on my behalf in the mortal world now and then. The risks would be enormous, but the rewards would be powerful.”

“I do not understand,” Aisa said.

“The Tree,” Death replied. “It's tipping. Did you think we were finished? That the Iron Axe was the end of it all?”

“I hadn't thought about it,” Danr said.

“We're just getting started, sweetie.” Death smiled. “If you're interested, dears, I'll call on you again.”

Oh,” said Danr, still a little stunned from watching the curse, “uh . . . I don't—”

But the
wrench
of a Twist took them, and moments later, Danr and the others were standing in the street outside the house of Orvandel the fletcher. Vesha was nowhere to be seen.

“Uncle Orvandel!” Talfi said. “Have we got a story for him!”

*   *   *

The last of the roast salmon and stewed chicken had been cleared away. Orvandel reached for his ale horn, but Ruta slapped his hand away. “You've had quite enough, oh mighty lord.”

“Hmf,” grumped Orvandel, but he didn't take more ale. Karsten and Almer, his sons, had remained quiet throughout the meal, clearly in awe of Danr and Ranadar. Almer had shaken hands with both Talfi and Ranadar, and neither of them mentioned their previous awkwardness. Orvandel had remarked that it was a historic day, setting a table with Fae and Kin and Stane, and a pity no one was here to record it.

“So, what's going to happen now?” Kalessa said.

“Everyone's in a weakened state,” Ranadar said. “Palana was nearly destroyed, and we—they—have to deal with the fact that the secret of how to cure a human's addiction is public knowledge. Slavery will soon end.”

“The Stane can come out when they need to,” Danr added, drinking some ale of his own. It was sweet and light. “And they don't need to worry about getting attacked, now that Hunin's army has been destroyed.”

“You know,” said Talfi slyly, “with Halli and Hunin and
Rudin all dead, we'll need an earl. It wouldn't be difficult for a great hero such as yourself to take such a position.”

“Oh no.” Danr held up his hands. “I don't want it. Besides, I'm too truthful. Let Hunin's brother the priest take it.”

Kalessa stretched. “What are you going to do, then? What are
we
going to do?”

And Danr had to answer. “Well, the Noss Farm is vacant, and it butts right up against Stane land. Perfect place for a half-blood. But . . .” He took Aisa's hand under the table, and she gave him a questioning look. “There's no hurry.”

“I,” Aisa said firmly, “want to find mermaids.”

“Then that's what we'll do next,” Danr replied, just as firm. And the smile that spread across Aisa's face sent a river of joy through his heart.

Together they turned back to the table.

Steven Harper Piziks
was born with a name no one can reliably pronounce, so he usually writes under the pen name Steven Harper. He sold a short story on his first try way back in 1990. Since then, he's written twenty-odd novels, including the Clockwork Empire steampunk series.

When not writing, Steven teaches English in southeast Michigan. He also plays the folk harp, wrestles with his kids, and embarrasses his youngest son in public. Visit his Web page at http://www.stevenpiziks.com.

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