37. Harper
37
HARPER
“ I want you to understand why you’re not dead.” Erika’s voice loomed behind Harper in the dark corridor. She jumped and whirled around, her pulse instantly thundering and her chest clutching with panic. Erika lurked nearby—a threat shrouded by shadows.
“What?” Harper stammered, conscious that she did not even have her knife upon her and the others were beyond shouting distance. She backed into the wall, fingering the rough texture of the stone behind her.
“If they had not been there to defend you, you would already be gone,” Erika said. Harper could hear the scowl in her voice.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Harper straightened and stepped forwards again. She refused to cower, even though she was no match for the nomad woman.
“I know. And that’s why I’m sorry.”
Harper gaped.
“Anything of him is a reminder.” Erika stepped into the faint light, her hand lifting the fringe she always kept flattened over her forehead.
Harper gasped.
For the first time, she could see the scar marring it. Saradon’s Mark, branded into Erika’s forehead.
“How? Why?” she breathed.
“This is why I hate him so,” Erika answered in a low voice. She swept her fringe down again, her attention fixed upon the floor, in another time and place. “I am one of the Indis, the warrior nomad tribes. Five hundred years ago, most of my people bound themselves to Saradon’s cause.”
Erika bared her teeth. “When he was defeated, our people were hunted and exterminated like vermin, almost to extinction. To this day, some support his ways. Fools . So our persecution never ended. One day, they came for us.”
Harper stayed silent, transfixed.
“They killed any who were not useful, and those who were a threat. The matriarchs, the men, ones who would not bow to them or change their ways. Submission is not in our nature. The Indis win—or we die. That is our way. They branded the rest of us and sold us into slavery. My mother was killed. My father. My brothers. In his name. I was nine.”
Harper sank against the wall. “I’m so sorry.”
Erika let out a harsh bark of laughter. “It’s not your fault. I eventually got my revenge. In a way, you are just like me. We have our ancestors’ bad blood, but we are not them.” Erika looked at her, her hard eyes glinting. “You are one of us. I will fight with you, defend you. But if you ever betray us, if you ever take up his cause, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
Harper narrowed her eyes. It surprised her to feel relieved, not scared. She understood that Erika now trusted her, truly, for the first time. “I do.” And now… Now Harper knew where she stood with the nomad woman. And why Erika was as hard and unforgiving as she was. She had suffered unimaginably as a result of Saradon, however indirectly.
Erika turned and strode away without another word. When she had gone, Harper let out a deep breath. I did not see that coming.
Their departure was upon them in no time. A company of dwarves led by Konig Korrin’s own command, as well as Jarl Halvar’s group, assembled in the halls of Keldheim, ready to depart through the thirl door. Harper fell in with Brand, Aedon, and Erika amongst Korrin’s dwarves. Korrin stood before them all, resplendent in his full armour of many-hued plated metals, embellished with enamel inlays of wolves, dragons, and gods across his body.
“We travel silently. We strike hard and fast. We return with our kin.” Konig Korrin’s voice rang through the silent hall. The entire room saluted him at once, fists to chests.
Harper wished she could have spent more time training. She could wield her slim blade with better skill than before, and her magic had come on in leaps and bounds, but she had seen what awaited them beneath Afnirheim and was under no false illusions that her paltry skills would see her through. She was glad for her companions now more than ever, knowing what they journeyed toward.
It took hours of tramping through dimly lit caves and up a steep incline before they reached Keldheim’s thirl door. At the king’s touch—Harper could not see much, trying to crane her neck over those standing in front of her—the thirl door opened, and light and fresh air tumbled in. The breeze was so cold, a welcome change from the moist, warm, stale air of the caves, that Harper pulled her cloak tighter, grateful for the thick wool. After walking through the thirl door, they followed the konig’s men down into the thickly wooded valley, where the sky was lost to the green canopy above and, once more, the confining darkness under the evergreens consumed them.
At midday two days later, with little rest, they approached Afnirheim. The mountain stood as silent as any other, but the konig took no chances. His scouts melted between the trees, weapons out, in a wide, sweeping line before them. Up they climbed to where Afnirheim’s most obscure thirl door nestled right at the top of the tree line, tucked into the cliff and shrouded by the towering pines. The narrow stairs, cleverly hidden amongst clefts in the sheer faces, forced the dwarves to ascend in single file. The host dithered impatiently at their foot, waiting to climb.
Just as Harper had seen it in her vision, it was an innocuous cliff with no hint of a door, but Korrin knew where to look. At his touch, light flared briefly, illuminating the outline of the door. When he placed his palms upon it and pushed, it clicked open.
“ I’ll need your help with the konig’s plan .”
Harper startled at the sound of Aedon’s voice in her mind. She had not become entirely at ease with being able to speak into another’s mind, though Aedon had her practise until she could manage it. It reminded her far too much of Dimitrius. And it still felt far too intimate for her liking. She still could not bear to be near Aedon, knowing what she now knew of her mother and his brother.
“ Yes? ” she answered dutifully, waiting for her turn to file through the open door into the darkness of Afnirheim.
“ Goblins thrive in the dark. They almost have night vision, like an owl. Dwarves, on the other hand, need light to see, which goblins abhor. So we, dear Harper, are going to make sure our friends can see. You’ll just have to follow my lead. All right? ” She heard his grim glee as he looked toward the mountain with anticipation.
She, in contrast, felt sick to her stomach. “ Yes .” She focused on trying not to vomit.
It was their turn. The way was wide enough for three to pass abreast, so she filed in with Aedon and Erika, whilst Brand took up the rear, his wings taking a row by themselves. In silence, they tramped inside, led down the smooth way by Aedon’s dim faelights. The farther they descended, the more the stench grew with the heat, until Harper felt nauseous with that, as well. She was glad for an empty stomach for a change. She had barely been able to eat that morning through worry about what they were to encounter—and what they might find. She concentrated on Ragnar, seeing him in her mind.
Unexpectedly, Korrin halted, summoning Aedon and Harper. They pushed through the ranks of silent dwarves to find the way in front of them branching off into six different passages. “We are nearly upon Afnirheim’s lower levels,” Korrin murmured. “I need you to sense ahead, tell me precisely where the goblins are, as well as Ragnar and the dwarves.”
Aedon shook his head. “I’m afraid it is not so easy, Konig. We have nothing of the dwarves or the elves to trace them by.”
“Wait,” said Harper, struck by inspiration. “I have something of Ragnar’s.” She looked at Aedon. “You can trace him using it, yes?” she asked, then spoke into his mind. “ Just like you traced me using my knife.”
He nodded. “Yes. What is it?”
She unshouldered her pack and rummaged through it, to the sound of the konig’s impatient tsking. “Here.” She passed Aedon the one thing she had of Ragnar’s—the tiny chatura piece he had given to her.
He smiled sadly, nodding. “This will be perfect. Konig, we can find precisely where Ragnar, and your kin, are. With them, I suspect we will find the goblins.” Aedon passed it back to Harper, much to her surprise. “You’ve done this before, with the Dragonheart. You know how.”
She swallowed. Did she? It had been different with the Dragonheart. Instinctive. Ragnar was another matter. Everyone looked at her, silent and expectant. She swallowed and closed her eyes.
Ragnar… Think of Ragnar. She held the wooden piece tightly between her hands, feeling the ridges and contours. She had watched Ragnar carve it. Watched his stiff hands shape it, like fat spread with a knife. He made it look easy, sitting there calmly while his hands worked.
Harper could smell the smoke of his pipe that always seemed to linger, but it was a pleasant, fragrant smoke. In her mind, she replayed him carving the chatura piece, then stopping and looking up at her, smiling in the way he always did—warm, friendly, genuine, the skin around his eyes crinkling. She pulled toward it, holding every part of Ragnar she could recall. Slowly, the niggle built, just as it had with the Dragonheart.
“This way,” she whispered, pointing to the fourth passageway.
Korrin turned and led them farther into the mountain. If nothing else, the growing stench told them they were on the right track. That, and the faint sounds of shrieking and chattering that Harper had hoped never to hear again. Dwarves drew their weapons, most bearing an axe of some kind—some large, some small, some double-headed, some with short blades. Harper had never seen such an array of different axes. Some dwarves held staffs with long blades upon the end, and others gripped hammers. Despite being fully armoured, with clanking metal plates and weapons, the dwarves moved with surprising stealth, using the goblin’s din as cover for their own movement. All had been warned to hold the element of surprise. Still, the order came too soon for Harper’s liking.
“Now!” thundered Korrin—and burst forth. The dwarves surged behind him, pushing Harper along in their midst. Aedon firmly grasped her hand and pulled her to one side.
She felt the magic flare in him, then added her strength, focusing upon coalescing the light into being. Aedon’s large faelight eclipsed her small, winking mote, but slowly, hers gathered strength, merging with his and soaring up to illuminate the cavern in blinding white. It took the dwarves a moment to adjust to the brightness, but they threw themselves back into battle with relish. The goblins’ shrieks soon became wails of pain as the light seared their eyes and dwarven weapons struck them down. Still, more swarmed from nowhere, jumping over the grated pits to fall upon the dwarves in great numbers. Brand and Erika, smiles on their faces, stood back to back in the middle of the fray, killing all who came within reach.
“Don’t stop focusing your magic!” Aedon said with gritted teeth, even as he pulled his blade. “Come. We have to find Ragnar!”
They leapt forward as the last of the dwarves spilled into the caves. Sheathing their weapons, they rushed to the pits, hauling up injured dwarves and carrying them through the passage, up to the thirl door, and out to safety.
Harper followed the tiny thread of Ragnar’s essence through the maelstrom, while Aedon danced around her, his blade a blur as he cut down goblins. She joined in as little as possible, smashing her blade against any who dared get too close. The goblins were small and quick, popping up from seemingly nowhere. Her blade squelched into the guts of one, slurping as she pulled it free, the body falling to the ground, lifeless. She bent over, vomiting.
“Harper, we don’t have time! Hurry!” Aedon said.
Brand and Erika fought their way closer until the four of them stood as a knot once more.
“Here! He’s here!” Erika’s triumphant shout emerged.
Harper rushed over to the pit with the overhang and saw Ragnar huddled at the bottom, staring up with wide eyes. He exclaimed at the sight of them, and Brand wrenched the grate aside. He leaned down to grab Ragnar’s hand and haul him out with ease. The dwarf crumpled onto the ground before them, his face blanching and twisted in pain. Brand swore and picked Ragnar up. He launched into the air and dove for the cave exit before landing, tucking his wings in, and running up the tunnel to pass Ragnar off. Erika, Aedon, and Harper helped two other dwarves out of the pit, sending them on their way before moving to the next one.
They were halfway across the cave when the entire mountain shook. At the far side of the cavern, Saradon emerged in the giant opening, wreathed in glowing, purple light. Magic flickered in his palms.