41. Harper
41
HARPER
T he konigshalle was deathly silent. All heads turned to look at them as they entered. Or, rather, look at Harper. She would have quailed before the collected attention of the stern dwarven jarls, still clad in their intimidating armours, had she not been flanked by Erika and Brand. Aedon led them. Ragnar still lay in the infirmary.
“My cousin does not join you?” Konig Korrin greeted them, raising his bushy eyebrows. They placed their fists to their chests and bowed as one.
“No, Konig,” replied Aedon. “At present, he is still too infirm, but will heal.”
Korrin nodded and gestured to his jarls. “I summon you to stand with mine own kin. I doubt ever a couple of elves, a mortal, and an Aerian have ever been thusly welcomed to one of our councils. Yet I must express my gratitude for your help within Afnirheim, for without you, I suspect many more of us might not have returned.”
His face grew stern. “Now, we have seen the truth of the horrors that have passed there.” His glance hesitated on Harper. “The Mother’s vision was correct. My concern is her other vision.” Korrin stared at her pointedly.
He knows . A thrill of fear rushed through her. Of course, Vanir had told him. Her allegiance was bound to the dwarves, not her. She is one of their gods, after all . Harper swallowed.
“Did you know of this before you entered our halls?” he asked her quietly.
“No, Konig.” She met his gaze and tried not to flinch.
He shook his head and frowned. “I see no resemblance, yet Vanir would not show us falsehoods. How can we trust you, blood of his blood?”
“I have nothing to do with him, Konig. I hail from lands far away, where I have lived as long as my memory recalls. I know nothing of this land or its history, and nothing of my kin. I have been an orphan all my life. This changes nothing.” My mother is still dead. That cut at the wound in her chest anew.
“So you say, yet I do not know that I can trust the word of an elf related to him. You saw as well as we did what he has done.”
“And I was just as horrified as you all were,” insisted Harper. “I came to tell you of the Mother’s vision of Afnirheim the moment I saw it. If I were somehow in his thrall, would I have done that?”
Korrin narrowed his eyes at her, unconvinced. “Spies can bluff as many times as they need to in order to gain trust.”
“I will vouch for her.” Brand’s quiet, even voice rang through the space.
“And I,” Erika said, stepping forward.
“And I,” said Aedon.
Warmth burned up her throat and a lump formed there. She blinked hot wetness away from her eyes, raising her chin. She would not cry, no matter how glad she was not to stand alone.
Korrin surveyed them. “The words of Aerians, mortals, and elves do not count for much here, but I will let your good faith stand. Her actions are on your hands. If there is any hint, any at all, of something untoward, I shall see that Keldheim is protected at any cost.” His stern voice left nothing to the imagination as to his intentions.
“We shall see it done, Konig,” replied Brand, bowing. “Our friend is trustworthy. You have nothing to fear.”
“I do not fear her,” Korrin sneered, uncharacteristically arrogant for a moment. “But I will do whatever it takes to protect Valtivar.” The jarls raised their fists to their hearts at his words.
“Then there is the matter of Ragnar Dúrnir.” Korrin’s sour tone showed his feelings on that. “With my cousin’s return, his affairs in Keldheim must once more be raised.”
“With respect, Konig,” Aedon interjected quickly, “Ragnar does not wish to stay. His affairs may remain as they were before his arrival. We shall leave as soon as we may.”
Korrin scowled. “He cannot outrun his fate for all eternity.”
“We cannot speak on that, Konig.” Aedon bowed.
“No, you cannot,” replied Korrin flatly. “He shirks his duties as my kin, especially when the pascha and his horde plagues us all. He shames the line of Dúrnir.”
“He shames nothing!” Harper said before she could stop herself, stepping forward in her indignation. She froze as all eyes turned to her.
“You dare to speak against me?” Korrin glared at her.
Harper straightened, quite sure she had made an enormous mistake, but not willing to back down. I held my own in Afnirheim, just like everyone else in here. I helped light the way. I helped ensure our safe escape , she reminded herself. “Ragnar Dúrnir—” the word felt strange on her tongue, “—is a good dwarf, one of the best people I know. He seeks only to do what is right, and he knows that his place is not here.”
She knew she had struck a nerve when Korrin scowled, but she refused to quail before him. “I will not speak to the likes of you on such matters, elf girl.”
Jarl Halvar and another arrived then, distracting the Konig. “Reinforcements from Himmelheim have arrived, Konig,” the jarl said.
Korrin’s scowl split into a wide grin. “Praise the gods,” he said, banging his own fist to his chest. His jarls copied. “This will be the first stage of our attack whilst we await the rest of our brethren. I will not suffer those scum in our lands a moment longer than we must.”
“You seek to retake Afnirheim, Konig?” Aedon asked.
“Yes,” Korrin said grimly. “Can we count upon your arms?” From their conversations on dwarven culture, Harper knew guests could not be called upon to fight, even for as much use as the four of them had already been in Afnirheim.
“Yes,” said Erika with grim determination. “You could not keep me away from that foe.” Harper felt nauseated by the pledge. She did not want to return to those halls.
Judging by his curious frown, Korrin wondered at her words, but nodded and thanked them before turning back to his jarls to discuss the finer points of their strategy. Harper and her companions drifted closer to listen to talk of war. All the while, anxiety built within her. To speak of a return to Afnirheim was bad enough, but now she knew what awaited—goblins, Saradon, and Dimitrius.
Harper had had enough talk of war, goblins, and Saradon. Her head echoed with it, jarring her already overwhelming headache. She needed fresh air. Jarl Halvar had pointed her to the way out—after a fashion—whilst the others ate. There was no true outside space in Keldheim, but it would do. Harper had trekked up the winding stairs until the void appeared. Spanning the void between two jutting peaks that joined obscure parts of the rear of Keldheim, the bridge was utterly open to the elements, yet so isolated as to be impregnable by outside forces unless dragons were involved.
Harper recognised the area. She was near where they had left Keldheim through the thirl door. She stepped onto the stone bridge, to be immediately buffeted by a cool gust of late afternoon wind. Already, the sun fell toward the horizon and had long disappeared behind the peaks, though the peach skies told her it had not yet set outside the mountains. Even so, she leaned on the waist-high stone wall, grateful for the fresh air that helped to banish the staleness from her mind… and all horror of Saradon’s threat. The wind receded, leaving her in a pocket of stillness, though she still wrapped herself in the warmth her magic afforded. Harper admired the view, not thinking about anything for just a few moments. Below her, rushing water was all she could hear. Vanir’s wellspring, she realised, or rather, where it emerged from the mountain.
A familiar, sharp, fruity aroma laced with musk hit her a moment before the realisation of who that belonged to. Eyes wide, she whirled around to see a figure emerge onto the bridge.