Rock, Paper, Shivers: Act Six and Seven (Bitter Ashes Book 4) Read online

  She seemed confident even though we had killed several of her friends just a few nights before, or maybe it was just her height. It was hard not to look confident when you were around 6'4” with a mane of pale blond hair and a perfect, creamy complexion. She had a warrior's body, all muscle, but lithe enough to move quickly.

  Her light eyes flicked to each of my companions, then settled on me. “Am I to assume that you are the one that will be swooping in to take us over?” she asked as a smile curved her lips.

  “Well there's a long story behind that,” I began, but she held up her hand to cut me off.

  “We've been searching for you, Madeline,” she explained. “I'm to bring you to our Doyen.”

  “She goes nowhere without us,” Alaric stated, sounding more serious than I was used to.

  The woman glanced at him briefly, then turned her gaze back to me. “Fine,” she decided after only a brief moment of thought.

  She made a gesture with her hand and the rest of her people moved forward. As they came into view, I noticed that many of them were extremely tall and blonde as well. It felt like we were being taken captive by a Viking clan, and the effect was increased by the large amounts of leather and fur most of them wore.

  Two hulking men who looked like twins each tried to grab onto Alaric and Sophie, but were shrugged off. Moments later Alaric was at my side, and after glaring at her would-be captor, Sophie joined us.

  James allowed one of the few dark-haired people, a woman, to help him to his feet willingly. The blonde Amazon who was calling the shots watched the whole display like it was the most amusing thing she'd seen in a long while. The Vaettir aren't exactly a cheerful people, so maybe it was.

  She turned and walked back the way she'd come, confident that we would follow. Alaric and Sophie both stopped to pick up their backpacks, which I presumed held more weapons like my knife, then sandwiched me like bodyguards. In a way they were, since I was fairly helpless until someone died, and the knife at my hip would do little against a trained attacker.

  The cold seeped in as we left the heat of the fire behind, and the light touch of Alaric and Sophie's shoulders offered no warmth. James followed behind us like a dejected puppy as the rest of the Vaettir fanned out around us, many of them disappearing from sight in the dark woods just as suddenly as they'd appeared.

  The blonde's tall form walking in front of us was little more than a shadowy silhouette in the dark forest. I tried to catch Alaric's eye as we walked, hoping for an explanation to why we were following the blonde's orders so willingly, but both he and his sister kept their expressionless gazes ahead on our captor.

  After a painfully cold ten minutes trudging through the woods, the blonde stopped in front of a massive tree. I stopped and waited, confused. The only way I'd ever entered a Salr, the Vaettir's place of sanctuary, was by way of magical vines, but I didn't see any vines in the snowy landscape.

  The blonde hadn’t moved that I could see, but suddenly the earth began to tremble. I watched in awe as the tree in front of us shimmered like a mirage in the hot sun, only it was nighttime and freezing. The shimmer dissipated, revealing a dark doorway in the middle of the tree, tall enough for the blonde to walk through comfortably, and wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side. Alaric and Sophie did not appear impressed, but I sure was.

  The blonde disappeared into the darkness within, while our other captors waited for us to move forward. I resisted the urge to clutch the charm near my throat as I took a hesitant step. Sophie dropped back behind us, leaving Alaric to walk by my side into the tree. Unable to help it, I reached out and touched the rough bark of the doorway, needing to reassure myself that it was real. The bark was cold, and left my fingertips damp.

  I took another step forward, disoriented by the act of walking into a tree and not hitting the other side. The darkness remained solid as we walked further, then Alaric suddenly grabbed my arm. I froze in alarm, but then he moved and I realized he was just signaling that there was a step down in front of us. I followed Alaric's lead down several more steps, blind in the darkness, until we reached the landing and the gentle lighting of the Salr.

  This new Salr was startlingly similar to Estus', the only other one I'd been to. There was no apparent source of lighting, yet the hall was filled with a dim glow, illuminating the same gray stone that composed the other Salr.

  The blonde had gotten several steps ahead of us as I stumbled on the steps, and now turned to wait further down the hall. Alaric looked at our surroundings cautiously, then held his arm out to me. I stared at his arm, not sure I understood the gesture, but it became clear as his other hand guided my arm through the bend of his elbow. He then moved his guiding hand to grasp my fingers, placing them delicately onto his forearm.

  The blonde chuckled, then turned and started walking again, boot heels clacking on the stone floor as we went. The way behind us was blocked by many of the unknown Vaettir, so we had no choice but to follow.

  I felt awkward being escorted rather than walking on my own, though I would have taken other forms of closeness. I was part of the hand-holding or arm around the shoulders generation, and being led around like a lady felt weird.

  “Why all of the formality?” I whispered, keeping my gaze forward.

  “Shh,” Sophie warned from behind us.

  I bit my lip, wanting to argue. We'd had no time to plan, and I had no idea what courtesies we were supposed to observe when going into a foreign Salr. Then again, we were there to take them over, so maybe we weren't supposed to be courteous at all.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Sophie and James walking side-by-side, and the rest of the Vaettir walking in pairs behind them. Perhaps we'd be observing some ceremonies after all.

  We were led though multiple twists and turns, until eventually we came upon a large throne-room, similar to the one in Estus' Salr. It seemed odd that a place of refuge, which was what the Salr were, would come with a throne room, but it also seemed odd that they came with dungeons, unless the features had been added once the Vaettir began to live in them full time. Maybe the Salr shaped itself to suit its inhabitant's needs. I'd seen enough crazy stuff lately that anything seemed possible.

  Unlike Estus' throne-room, which held a dais, but was barren of decor, this one was accented with heavy tapestries done in rich colors, and thick, Persian rugs. The Vaettir who'd escorted us went to stand on either side of the room in orderly lines, while the blonde went to stand by the simple, wooden throne. At first I thought she might sit in it, but then a man emerged from a nearby doorway and stole the show.

  He looked just as Viking-esque as the rest of them, except with rich, chestnut-colored hair instead of blond. His roughly 6'5” frame was covered by a heavy robe done in gold and garnet red. Our eyes met, and he smiled, then he moved his gaze to the blonde by the throne. His eyes had been a startlingly bright reddish brown that contrasted interestingly with his armpit-length hair.

  The Vaettir around us began to kneel as he walked past them, and Alaric tugged me down to my knees in turn. I glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable, so I turned my eyes to the reddish-haired man instead. As I watched, he lowered himself onto the throne.

  He looked somewhat out of place in the regal setting, likely because he looked around thirty years old. I had expected an old man or woman to be Doyen, just like Estus, but it was a silly expectation. The more powerful the Vaettir, the less they aged. To have become Doyen, this man was likely old, and to look so young bespoke his power. Estus was scary powerful himself, but not powerful enough to halt the aging process as much as others.

  Of course, this man could also be like Alaric, less powerful, but descended from a deity. Certain bloodlines aged slowly, or almost not at all. The man gestured for us to stand, but stayed sitting himself.

  “I am Mikael,” he announced as we stood, “Doyen of this clan. You must be Madeline.”

  I realized with a start that he was talking to me. I had expected him to start with Alar
ic or Sophie, or anyone else who actually might know what was going on.

  “Y-yes,” I stammered. “That's me.”

  He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow at me. “I'm told you've come to take over my clan. Forgive me, but you don't seem well-equipped for such a task.”

  My jaw dropped. The blonde had been with us the entire time, so someone else must have raced ahead to rat us out.

  When I didn't deny nor confirm his accusation, he asked, “Do you have the lykill?”

  My eyes narrowed in confusion. The word was pronounced ley-kik, and sounded like the language I'd heard Alaric and Sophie speak a few times. It had also been the language the Norn spoke.

  “The ley-what?”

  “It means key,” Alaric whispered, finally deciding to be helpful.

  He didn't elaborate any further, which made me think that we didn't want Mikael to know we had the charm.

  “I'm not sure what you mean,” I replied loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

  “She's lying,” the blonde stated immediately.

  Mikael smiled, and it was a bit unnerving. “I cannot let you take my clan from me,” he announced, “but I can offer you sanctuary from your pursuers.”

  “But why?” I asked at the same time Alaric said, “I don't think so.”

  I had been so focused on Mikael that I only then realized how furious Alaric looked.

  “I could simply take the key from her,” Mikael commented as his gaze moved to Alaric. “Your choice.”

  The charm in question was pulsing at my neck like something alive, as if it sensed all of the excitement. Before I could think better of it, I reached my hand up to my throat to touch the charm through the collar of my shirt.

  Mikael turned his gaze back to me and quirked the corner of his mouth into a half-smile. “Unless she knows how to use it . . . ”

  I could have cut the tension around us with a knife. All of the Vaettir had gone rigid, waiting for their Doyen to signal the attack. The only person who appeared calm was Mikael, still slouched in his throne with one leg now dangling casually over one of the chair-arms.

  I continued to clutch at the charm, unsure of what to do. I had no idea how to use it, but Mikael didn't know that. I flicked my eyes to Alaric, hoping for some subtle advice. What I got was not subtle at all.

  “I hope you can figure this out quickly,” Alaric began, his eyes only for me, “because I won't be able to hold them off for long.”

  At a sudden flick of Mikael's hand, the Vaettir surrounding us surged forward. Alaric and Sophie were nothing but blurs as they darted around me, flinging our attackers aside like rag dolls. I smelled burning flesh somewhere behind me and knew that James had joined the fray.

  I stood frozen as I clutched the charm. I briefly thought about the knife at my waist, but dismissed it. My eyes found Mikael, who still sat casually in his throne. He gazed at me with his head tilted downward in challenge, daring me to act.

  Feeling like I was in a trance, I untied the cord that held the charm, removing it from my neck, then dangled it out in front of me. Accepting the taunt, Mikael stood, then began to stride confidently toward me. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my thoughts raced, asking me what the hell I thought I was doing, but the front of my mind was calm, and didn't feel like it belonged to me any longer.

  A part of me knew I should be sensing the pain of those getting injured around me, but it was somehow blocked out. All I could focus on was the charm in my hand, and Mikael's determined gaze as he neared me.

  I didn't feel in control of my own limbs as I yanked the cord up, then caught the charm in the palm of my hand. The charm's pulsing grew stronger. The distant back part of my mind realized that the charm was feeding on the chaos around me. I could feel it sucking the energy in, much like I did when I released a soul, except I only took a portion of the energy, the charm was taking all of it.

  Alaric flashed for a moment in front of me, then was gone, tumbling to the side as he kept another one of our attackers away from me. We were extremely outnumbered, but having two five-hundred year old embodiments of war fighting on our side helped to even the odds.

  Mikael reached me, and it was like everything around us went still. I knew that mere seconds were passing, but the scene was playing out before me in slow motion. The charm's stolen energy began to trickle down my arm, filling me up with more power than I would get from one-hundred simultaneous deaths.

  Mikael reached out, just as the charm's consciousness suddenly ripped through my mind. It didn't want to go with him. Our powers were the same, and I would be able to use it to its full potential.

  Energy shot from the fist I'd closed around the charm. I wasn't sure if it was my doing, the charm's, or a mixture of both, but it brought Mikael to his knees. He gritted his teeth against the force of it, but was unable to regain his feet.

  Words trickled out of my mouth that I didn't quite understand. “You will kneel until I tell you to stand, Mikael Agnarsson.”

  “I . . . did not . . . expect this,” he spat through gritted teeth.

  Finally he bowed his head, and the torrent of energy stopped, just as the key's consciousness left me all at once. I looked around the room, truly freaked out, having no idea how I'd known Mikael's surname.

  Those who still stood were silent. Alaric and Sophie both stood within arm's reach, but neither reached out to touch me.

  I looked back down at Mikael, who had raised his head to glare at me. “I suppose this alters my plans,” he stated calmly. I was pretty sure that he could have stood then if he wanted to, but he stayed kneeling. “What would you have of me, mennskurð?”

  I glanced at Alaric and whispered, “What is mennskurð?”

  He looked a little green as he answered, “It means the lady, but refers to a woman of high standing, sometimes a seeress.”

  I looked back to Mikael, who waited patiently with an odd smile on his face. The smile wasn't exactly bitter or unhappy, maybe rueful, or . . . calculating?

  All of the Vaettir waited with their eyes glued to me. Some looked worried or confused, some looked angry, and some looked apathetic.

  “What should I say?” I whispered again.

  “You know, I can hear you,” Mikael teased. For someone who was losing control of his clan, he didn't seem terribly upset.

  A catty remark froze on the tip of my tongue. It probably was a bad idea to antagonize even a fallen Doyen while his people waited ready to pounce.

  “I would like to hold a private audience with you, and my advisors,” I added quickly. “We have delicate matters to discuss.”

  Mikael's smile widened. “Wise choice, mennskurð. May I stand?”

  “Yes,” I replied as I took a step back, “and please, just call me Madeline.”

  He rose, taking a step forward to close the space between us, then offered me his arm. “Shall we?”

  I looked down at the offered arm, then looked to Alaric, who nodded. Sophie looked paler than usual, but fully determined as she kept her eyes trained on the other Vaettir around us. James just looked scared.

  I looped my arm through Mikael's and allowed him to escort me, much like Alaric had done earlier. The fabric of his ornate robe was scratchy underneath my palm. He led me toward the door he had originally emerged from, and had to hold up his free hand to stop the blonde from following us. She did not look happy.

  We went through the door unhindered, with my three companions following behind us. James shut the door, and I felt instant relief, even though it was still uncomfortable to have Mikael at my side. The room we had entered was done up like a sitting room, with large, cushy chairs and a gleaming coffee-table in the middle. It seemed like a good place for a private meeting, but Mikael kept walking.

  We went through another door, down the hallway for a while, then through a final door into a room with a large table and chairs all around. It would have looked like any other conference room, except the walls and floor were made of stone, and the table was
made of rough-hewn planks of wood as thick as my torso.

  Mikael dropped my arm, then pulled a chair out for me. After I sat he went around the table to sit across from me, leaving everyone else to get their own chairs. Alaric took the chair to my left, then Sophie and James took the next ones down. I was glad that they still wanted to sit near me after what had happened with the charm. I wasn't sure if I even wanted to sit near me.

  “That was quite the display,” Mikael stated, breaking the silence. “I have a feeling things will be much more interesting this time around.”

  “This time around?” Sophie questioned.

  Mikael grinned. “Yes, my dear, last time the Lykill surfaced, it fell into the hands of an earth spirit. She caused a great deal of destruction, but earthen spirits at their core embody stability and patience. Really, she had no business wielding a tool of chaos. Executioners, or simply Dauðr in the old tongue, can control massive amounts of energy, the same type of energy controlled by the charm.”

  His gaze landed solely on Alaric and Sophie as he said, “The only thing more interesting would have been if the charm had chosen one of you. A being of chaos and war to wield a wonderfully powerful tool of, well, chaos and war.”

  “So let me get this straight,” I interrupted. “You were around when the charm was last used, when all of those terrible scenes of bloodshed and misery occurred?”

  Mikael raised an eyebrow at my question. “You speak as if you witnessed those scenes with your own two eyes.”

  “One of the women who gave her life to seal the charm away showed them to me,” I explained, feeling suddenly angry, though I wasn't sure why.

  He steepled his fingers together in thought. “Interesting, very interesting,” he mused.

  I glared at him. “You didn't answer my question.”

  “He was there,” Alaric answered for him.

  I looked back and forth between the two men. “You two know each other?” I asked, perplexed.

  Sophie met my eyes as I scooted back so I could view everyone at once. She looked just as confused as I felt.