‘When is the best time to go?’ Gangrel asked.
‘There’s no time like the present,’ Althiof said.
Hal and Eric exchanged glances. At last, they had a cat in hell’s chance of rescuing Gwen. Hal frowned. He hoped her sufferings had not been too great in the meantime.
He rose. ‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘Let’s get going!’
* * * * *
‘Welcome to Svartaborg, Eld of Muspellzheim!’ Prince Helgrim called.
Eld folded his arms, as his warrior escort ranked themselves on either side. He raked the hall with a burning gaze.
‘Then the war goes well?’ The giant’s voice was like the roar of a forest-fire, and as he spoke a blast of heat scorched through the room.
‘Indeed it does, Eld,’ Prince Helgrim replied. ‘When the dwarves raided our lands again, we sent them fleeing; through our armed might and your dragons.’
Eld roared with contentment. ‘And yet still you wish to drive them from your lands?’
‘Correct, Eld,’ Prince Helgrim replied. ‘And so I have summoned hither you and your retinue. We shall scour the Dark Moon Plains and drive the dwarves before us, slaughtering them or forcing them back into the world of mist. But come with me to the throne-room. My retinue and I will discuss the plan of battle. My father will add anything he has to say, too…’
Gwen watched from the doorway as Eld the fire giant, accompanied by two of his scaly retainers, followed Prince Helgrim and his retinue through the hall towards the great stairs. The swart-elf warriors remained.
‘How do we get out now?’ Gwen murmured.
‘What was that thing?’ Ilmadis asked.
‘Bad news for the dwarves, whatever it was,’ Gwen replied.
‘It was Eld, son of Muspell,’ Mordis replied. She closed the door and turned to face them. ‘He is a chieftain of the fire giants. They have signed a pact with my people to unite and drive the dwarves from our world.’
Gwen remembered Tanngrisnir. She wondered how his people would react to the coming of the fire giant. It made her think about Eric, Hal, and Gangrel.
‘But how do we get out of here?’ she asked again.
Mordis shook her head. ‘We won’t be able to slip out that way, now,’ she replied, ‘Even if the guards leave. They will be stepping up the security now that they prepare for all-out war.’ She grimaced. ‘This was the worst of times to plan an escape. Soon they will discover that you have fled, and all hell will be let loose.’
‘We need to hide,’ Gwen said urgently. ‘Mordis, do you know anywhere safe?’
Mordis’ lip curled, as if she was wondering why she was helping this human. ‘We can hide in my chambers,’ she said. ‘They will not have the temerity to search in there. Then, once the fuss has died down, once Prince Helgrim has led the hosts out against the dwarves, you’ll be able to escape.’
‘Oh,’ Gwen said shortly. She had been nurturing wild notions of warning the dwarves. But she shook her head. Realistically, what could she do?
‘Come!’ Mordis commanded. She led them back down the passage at a quick march.
The Princess led them hurriedly along cold, dark, disused passages where the dust lay thick, causing Gwen’s eyes to run. Reaching a spiral staircase, they followed its winding steps upwards for a long time.
Every few turns, they passed an arrow-slit overlooking the scene outside. From each glimpse, Gwen slotted together a jigsaw picture of the great white crescent of the falls stretching away eastwards; the river rushing across the plain towards them to the south: to the north, it tumbled into empty space. Below, she could see a dark land of rocks and grey sand, and the town. She stored the information away in her mind for later use. If they ever escaped.
Princess Mordis finally took them through a small wooden doorway and into a tapestry-covered alcove. Slipping out from behind this, they came into a wide passage. Gwen could hear the clank of weapons and sound of marching feet in the distance.
‘Where are you taking us, Morbid?’ she asked.
‘We are almost there,’ the Princess replied.
‘Good! So are the guards, by the sound of it,’ Gwen complained.
Mordis led them to a chamber door much like the one Gwen had just escaped. For a moment, she was convinced Mordis was bringing them back to their starting point. Then Mordis flung open the door and bundled them roughly inside.
Gwen staggered, and almost fell. She was about to turn and snap at the Princess, when she caught sight of the chamber she had entered. Her mouth fell open.
* * * * *
Unaware that Gwen was already at liberty, Hal and his companions left the inn, and made their way through the small town, leaving through the south gate. Here the road followed the bank of the pool, soon beginning to wind as it made its way up the towering cliffs towards the head of the falls. Merchants and guards passed up and down, heading to and from Svartaborg, which was now out of sight, high above.
‘We don’t go this way, do we?’ Hal asked.
Althiof shook his head. As soon as the road emptied, he led them into the rocks on the right-hand side. They followed a seldom-used path that led them around the foot of the cliffs. After a quarter of a mile’s trek through broken country, they reached a small gateway carved from the living rock. A flight of steps was visible, leading up a fault-line in the rock.
‘Here we are,’ Althiof told them.
Hal looked up at the dizzying immensity of the beetling cliffs. The topmost crags were out of sight; those visible seemed to scrape the starless sky.
‘Lead the way,’ Gangrel said in a sombre voice.
Hitching his belt, Althiof passed under the gateway and waddled up the steps. Gangrel walked after him. Hal and Eric followed side by side, and Tanngrisnir took the rear, his freshly sharpened sword gripped firmly, his suspicious eyes darting to either side.
Debris strewed the steps, and they showed few signs of recent use. Hal plodded up the first flight, sheltered on his right by the natural banister created by the fault in the rock, on his left by the soaring cliff.
Hal was still unclear about his purpose. He was here to rescue Gwen, of course, but after that; what? Gangrel had dropped dark hints about cosmic war, and all this Runeblade business, but the very idea turned Hal’s knees to jelly. He had grown in courage since the beginnings of his adventure. Who wouldn’t, having seen what he had seen? It was either that, or go mad. But what little he knew about Gangrel’s intentions for the future made rescuing Gwen from a castle bristling with swart-elves seem pleasant by comparison.
They reached the top of the first flight of steps, where the secret stair turned back on itself in a hairpin bend. The companions halted briefly on the ‘landing’, turning to study the next flight. By now, they were at least a hundred feet above the town they had left. Hal glanced down into the windy gap, and felt a little dizzy.
‘Hurry,’ Althiof said. Alone of the group, he seemed to have boundless reserves of energy, despite his flabby physique. Presumably he was accustomed to mountain climbing and fell walking. Sighing, wishing they could have ridden, Hal followed the others as they began the next stage of the ascent.
* * * * *
Mordis’ bedchamber was furnished in the height of swart-elf bad taste.
Gargoyle-faced sconces on the walls illuminated a stonewalled room hung with drapes in scarlets, purples, and blacks. A four-poster hewn from oak and carved with hideous designs dominated the room, while chairs and low tables dotted the floor, each one an offence to Gwen’s personal sense of taste. Strewn about the floor, like the junk that clutters a teenager’s bedroom, were objects Gwen preferred not to contemplate.
A kneeling slave girl with a downcast expression was chained beside the hideous fireplace. Mordis had tied up her wolves on the other side of the hearth, and it was clear that she had far more consideration for them than her slave, who she ignored. Ilmadis petted the wolves, who fawned at her attentions, but for good measure patted the slave.
‘I
s she alright?’ Gwen asked, removing her helmet.
Mordis shot a surprised glance at the slave. ‘Oh, she won’t tell anyone of your presence,’ she assured the human. Gwen frowned. That wasn’t what she had meant.
‘Now, let us find some way to while away the time.’ Mordis clicked her fingers. ‘Drinks!’ she commanded. The slave rose, her fetters clanking, and went to a cabinet. She poured three goblets of wine.
Gingerly, Gwen and Ilmadis sat. Mordis lounged on a divan, after carelessly pushing the objects that littered it onto the floor.
‘And tidy this pigsty!’ Mordis added.
Gwen raised her goblet as the slave passed it to her. ‘Chin-chin, Morbid, Ilmadis,’ she said, and drank. It was a hot, spicy beverage that she could only describe as mulled vodka. Not to her taste. She put it down carefully on the table and turned to Mordis.
‘So the fire giant is in league with Prince Helgrim?’
Mordis pouted. ‘Oh, my cousin has some crazy idea that he will conquer the worlds with Muspell’s aid,’ she said dismissively, lounging back. ‘That’s why he wants to marry you. The oaf! But he won’t!’ she added fiercely. ‘He’ll marry me, as he promised.’
Ilmadis sipped her drink, and made a face. She looked up at the slave, now quietly tidying the room, and then turned her gaze on Gwen, who felt uncomfortable.
The trouble with freeing slaves was they seemed to expect you to free everyone else. Gwen was starting to get a pretty clear idea of how Spartacus must have felt after a while. Insisting their host declare immediate emancipation would be bad manners.
‘Conquer the worlds?’ she asked, as something Mordis had said registered. ‘I thought you said they were just going to drive out the dwarves?’
Mordis yawned elegantly. ‘I do apologise. Politics bores me,’ she said with a languorous gesture. ‘They’re going to drive out the dwarves, but then they intend to march south and conquer all the worlds that owe allegiance to Asgard. They intend to bring about Ragnarok. It’s nonsense! Mere mythology.’
‘Prince Helgrim mentioned Ragnarok,’ Gwen recalled. ‘That’s what this is about. Gangrel told us about it too…’
‘Who?’ Mordis asked.
‘Oh, no one you’d know, Morbid,’ Gwen replied. ‘Look, when are we going to get out of here? The longer I hang around, the more likely it is that Prince Helgrim will catch me and marry me,’ she reminded the Princess. ‘And we don’t want that.’
Mordis was about to reply, when a commotion broke out from the passage.
‘The prisoner! Prince Helgrim’s bride! She’s escaped! Search every chamber!’ Gwen sat bolt upright. Mordis’ eyes widened.
Someone started pounding on the chamber door.
4 DARK MOON FELLS
‘My lady!’ a voice shouted from outside. ‘My lady, please open the door! We have orders to search every room. My lady!’
Gwen rushed towards the window.
‘What are you doing?’ Mordis hissed.
Gwen turned to her. ‘We’ve got to get out!’ she said wildly. ‘Ilmadis! Come on!’
‘Don’t be foolish!’ Mordis spat. ‘They can’t come in without my permission. Quick - hide here!’
She indicated the four-poster, and began tugging at the curtains. Gwen and Ilmadis exchanged glances.
‘My lady!’ The pounding grew more insistent.
‘Hurry!’ Mordis spat. ‘Slave!’ The girl raised her head. ‘Answer the door. Forestall them!’
The slave girl approached the door, her chain clanking. Seeing this, Gwen clambered up onto the bed, followed by Ilmadis. Mordis closed the curtains, leaving them squatting in musty darkness.
They heard the bolts of the door sliding back. It rumbled open. The slave girl spoke with the guard in muted tones.
‘Tell your lady we have been ordered to search every room!’ the guard barked. They heard Mordis cross the floor. ‘My lady!’ said the guard. ‘Your slave does not seem to understand me. We must search every room in this wing.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Prince Helgrim’s bride-to-be has escaped,’ the guard explained hastily. ‘We must find her!’
Gwen felt Ilmadis’ hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m scared,’ the elf-girl whimpered. ‘If they find us…’
‘They won’t find us,’ Gwen said bravely. But inside she felt less certain.
‘The little bitch has run away?’ Mordis laughed. ‘Ha ha! My cousin is not as ugly as all that, surely? But you won’t find her here. If she came, I’d feed her to my wolves. Go away at once.’
‘My lady, be reasonable. We must search every room. Orders. Open the door.’
‘How do I know this isn’t some trick?’ Mordis snarled. ‘You could be merely some rogue wishing to gain entrance to my chambers to ravish me! Go at once! Don’t come back unless you have a signed warrant from the chief of the guard, countersigned by Prince Helgrim himself. Good day.’
The door slammed shut, cutting off the guard’s expostulations. After a second, the curtain swished open. Mordis was standing there.
‘I made him go, but he’ll be back,’ she told them.
‘We heard,’ Gwen replied. ‘Come on, Ilmadis. Out the window again.’
Mordis shook her head. ‘That way they’ll capture you for certain,’ she replied. ‘Guards are patrolling outside. We must find somewhere else to hide.’
‘Where, then?’ Gwen asked desperately. Ilmadis whimpered again.
‘Come with me,’ Mordis said. Pausing only to snap at the slave, telling her to permit the guards entrance when they returned, she unleashed her wolves and strode to the door.
Gwen and Ilmadis got down off the bed, and hurried to join her.
‘Where are we going?’ Gwen asked.
‘The kitchens,’ Mordis replied. ‘The cook is my minion. She’ll do anything I tell her.’
They crept out into the passage, Mordis looking left and right with suspicious eyes. But the guards were not in sight. She led them quickly across the passage and into the alcove under the tapestry. Back down the spiral staircase they hurried, Gwen hoping against hope that the guards would not be searching this as well.
They had only gone three flights down when Gwen found her hopes dashed. A door opened somewhere above them, and booted feet rang out from the echoing walls. Shouted orders and the clank of armour resounded down the stairway.
Mordis looked up, her feline eyes glittering in the darkness of her face. ‘By Surt! The guards!’ she panted, hauling on Ylg’s leash.
‘What now?’ Ilmadis moaned tremulously.
Mordis turned and flitted down the steps. The others followed. She came to a door from which emanated heat and the smell of cooking.
‘Here we are!’ she told them. ‘We’ll find refuge in here.’
She thrust the door open, and led them into a vast, brightly lit hall, packed with tables, ovens and, scurrying scullions. The air was rank with cooking smells, and the noise was unbearable.
An enormously fat dwarf woman stood in the midst of the room, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the scene, breaking off now and then to clip a scullion round the ear and bark fresh orders. As Mordis led them across the busy room, she caught sight of them, and her eyes brightened. Pausing only to wipe her hands on her apron, the dwarf woman hurried forward.
‘Oh, my dear little Princess!’ she said. ‘Welcome, as ever, to my kitchen.’ She snatched some choice scraps up from the nearby table, and flung them to Varg and Ylg, then turned to embrace the swart-elf Princess. She looked slyly at Gwen and Ilmadis, still clad in swart-elf armour. ‘And who are your friends, my lady?’
* * * * *
The wind howled, and plucked at the ascending travellers. At their head, Althiof strode onwards, undeterred, Gangrel treading on his heels. Behind them, Eric and Hal were blue with cold.
‘It’s freezing!’ Hal said. This was the coldest he had been since they’d escaped from Helheim. Svartalfaheim was a marginally warmer world, but up here on the flanks of the Dark Moon F
ells, it was as chilly as Corpse Strand.
‘How much further do we have to go?’ Hal added, when Eric failed to reply.
Eric shivered, and shrugged. ‘Haven’t a clue,’ he replied shortly.
‘We are a third of the way up,’ Tanngrisnir said from behind them. ‘Or will be, when we reach the top of this flight.’
Hal gazed upwards in despair. They still had a long way to go. Somewhere in the darkness, up there, was the castle of the swart-elves - and Gwen. It would be hours before they reached it. And then their troubles would only have begun.
To Hal’s relief, Althiof called a halt at the next landing. Eric sat down in the lea of the wall, and Hal joined him. Gangrel and the two dwarves spoke in sombre tones nearby.
‘We’ll reach the rockslide soon,’ Althiof was saying.
‘What’s this about a rockslide?’ Hal asked. The dwarf looked down at him.
‘The swart-elves blocked the stair,’ he replied. ‘I made a path through the rocks, but the going will be hard.’
‘And it is some time since last you came this way,’ Gangrel added. ‘We cannot be sure that things have not changed.’
‘Oh, great.’ Eric shivered. ‘We’ll have to shift rocks in this cold.’
‘What happens when we reach the top?’ Hal asked.
‘If we reach the top,’ Eric said.
Gangrel looked down at him. ‘We must rescue Gwen, and leave at once,’ he said. ‘The sooner we reach the Hall of Sindri, the sooner the Runeblade will be forged, and your fate fulfilled.’
Hal preferred not to think about this. He wanted to rescue Gwen and go home. That was all that interested him. Fate could wait. Indefinitely, as far as he was concerned.
‘How will we know where to find her?’ he asked. ‘From what everyone says, Svartaborg is a pretty sizeable place. Where will she be?’
Tanngrisnir stroked his beard. ‘The dungeons are in the lowest level,’ he said. ‘We will find her there.’
‘Or will we?’ Gangrel asked. ‘Remember the Foretelling? I have been thinking it over in my mind. There is a line concerning a woman of Vestrnes…’
‘Where?’ Hal asked.