Chapter 40 Calder
CALDER
Sannhet Burg, Skalor
“Have you seen Aura?” Calder forcibly questions Crystal, who has since returned their ship to the docks while in wyvern form.
She finishes dressing, tying a set of woven gauntlets to her wrist with one brow raised in warning at his tone.
Aura should have returned long ago, and the channel remains unfrozen. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach makes his palms sweat as a familiar sense of unease trickles into his heart.
Edmund rushes toward them, bending at the knees. “Aura is gone!”
The trio rushes further along the dock to find Argnier kneeling at the end of the pier, his hands tangled in his white hair.
Calder seizes his old friend’s shoulders. “What happened?”
Argnier finally blinks and tumbles backward, only to be caught by Crystal.
“She… she… she was here.” Guilt burns in Argnier’s words, and Calder can no longer feel his body. “I couldn’t move. I was back in that damn Keep while she…”
“Who?” The tightness in Calder’s chest intensifies, and his breathing grows haggard.
“Lavinia has Aura.” Argnier slumps his head into his hands, while Crystal curses under her breath and rubs his back.
“Aura has been captured again?” Edmund asks incredulously to no one in particular.
Argnier sobs into his hands. “I couldn’t do anything.”
Calder stumbles away, clenching his fists at his side. The ground beneath his boots spins, and he fears he will collapse, consumed by the very earth itself.
Lavinia has Aura.
I broke my vow to protect the Princess.
Suspicions swirl in his mind like a spinning top. He grasps the back of his head as if it will provide any support for the storm of emotions assaulting him.
Aura serves as leverage for me to agree to be Makt’s vessel.
He lifts his gaze to the channel as the tail of a Skalor vessel fades into the distance. The air around them explodes with a bitter chill. He steps forward, kicking something across the deck.
When he crouches down, he discovers Sigvid’s blackwood axe.
Familiar cold laughter fills the air, and all four twist in time for Makt to materialize along the wharf's edge.
Today, he dons obsidian armor with a longsword fastened at his hip. “Don’t you love it when a plan comes together, my son?”
Calder unsheathes the God of Power’s great axe and bolts toward him, swinging in time to slash through his ethereal form. The black mist reconstitutes behind him.
“Did you honestly believe that could kill me?”
The Iss Drengr grits his teeth as the entire channel freezes. “What do you want with Aura? This is between us!”
His three companions rise behind him. The sound of his companions arming themselves is sweet music to his ears.
“Ah, Crystal,” Makt looks over Calder’s shoulder, “been a few centuries, wife. Something is different about you. Did you change your hair?”
She saunters forward, her head held high. “Makt,” she spits his name like venom on her tongue, “I can see your time with the Gods of Love and Stability has made you more charming than ever. Do give my regards to Freyr, I hear he’s had a bit of bad luck lately with his halvguds.”
Makt’s face contorts, and Calder can feel the pulsing seidr around him. “A good wife would have freed me from my prison!”
Smoke swirls around her, and pearly scales flutter across her skin. “Only one of you down there deserves to regain their rightful throne. And it is not the one who abused his seidr.”
“Do not forget who raised you to your status, Wicked Wyvern. You forget what I can become in the mortal realm.”
She scoffs. “Should you crawl your way out of the Abyss,” she steps around Calder, rolling her shoulders back as she confronts Makt, “I am waiting to meet your frost wyvern. Talon for talon, husband.”
“Aw, don’t be jealous, Crystal.” Makt brushes a ghostly hand along her cheek. “Lavinia doesn’t have half of your power.”
Scales shudder across her skin once more, and Calder lays a hand on her shoulder, reminding her that lives are at stake.
Reluctantly, she shifts to his side with her arms crossed over her chest. White flames dance in her green eyes.
Makt slowly withdraws his gaze from Crystal to focus back on Calder.
“Lavinia and I offer you a choice, my son. Give yourself as a vessel to me and spare the life of your pretty little plaything, or, now, this is fun,” Makt chuckles, “your girl agrees to be my vessel.”
Calder’s blood pulses in his veins as if it is alive with dark ice. “Aura is a witch who can dismantle the bloody country! And you threaten her?”
Makt’s toothy smile widens. “Ah, yes, we anticipated that. Lavinia sought a little motivation for the Princess’ ‘good behavior,’ if you will. Queen Avina Redwood has already proved most useful. Aura willingly gave herself to us.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“You tell me, my son. How important is the girl’s precious soul to you?” He strides closer to Calder, lowering his voice. “Imagine all of the filthy acts I can commit to those curves. I bet her cunt is unbelievably tight.”
Calder’s biceps tense, and the great axe hisses through the air. Once again, he only manages to scatter the black mist comprising his form.
Makt’s voice bellows across the channel. “You have four days!”
October 25th, Year 21, 10th Era
Kaldrgataness, Skalor
Calder navigates into the Bay of Souls with icy focus, refusing to sleep after Aura’s abduction. The return trip to Kaldrgataness has been eerily silent as his three companions lean against opposite sides of the ship, monitoring their progress with intent gazes.
Edmund’s right knuckle is pale as he grips the handle of his axe beneath his robes. Crystal’s gaze has yet to shift from the calm water, while Argnier’s hand feverishly sketches what looks suspiciously like an interior map of Nightwall Keep.
“Calder…” Edmund slowly rises as he moves swiftly to the wyvern helm, leaning over the side. “The flag above your longhouse is the nautilus of Treland!”
He suspected that Lavinia and Makt had more in mind for Avina’s presence in Skalor than merely stopping Aura’s seidr.
There is no doubt about who invades his hold.
He sails as far from the shore as possible and aims to dock at the far western pier. A nagging sense in the back of his mind prevents him from storming his longhouse and confronting Sigvid Thordsson.
Dammit, there is something else at play.
Perhaps Lavinia hopes that I will deter Sigvid from pursuing her?
A tiny silhouette awaits them on the wharf.
As they draw nearer, he recognizes their greeting party with a sigh.
Eivor’s tiny boot taps on the decking as his ship bounces against the dock. “Where have you been, Aura’s friend?”
“Hello, Eivor.” Calder ties them off and gathers his bags. “I have been training with Aura in Skalor.”
She peers around the wharf. “I don’t see her,” she stomps her foot. “Where is she?”
“Taken by the Queen of Skalor.” He kneels to her level while his companions finish securing the ship. “I need to reach her before it is too late.”
“How can you let the bad woman take her? You should have killed the Queen!”
“That is why I returned home.” He places his massive hand on her tiny shoulder, to which she gives a skeptical glance. “We will bring her home, Eivor.”
“Don’t let this happen again, Aura’s friend.” She waves a finger in his face.
“She will always be within my sight,” Calder promises, noting they are eerily alone on the far pier. “Did you stow aboard one of King Sigvid’s ships?”
She sticks her chest out. “I snuck aboard Aura’s father’s ship as they loaded.”
Calder has numerous questions about this small child and her precocious nature, but he decides to set them aside and move her out of the impending crossfire with the Drengr.
The party drifts through the evergreen forest, melting into the evening darkness as they near a servant’s entrance to Coldheart Keep.
He reaches for the door, but the snap of a stick draws his attention to the silhouettes of Thora, Gunni, and a group of his hold soldiers.
“Why are you sneaking into your own home? Are you worried someone will catch you, Iss Drengr?” Thora leans against the stone wall, her expression unreadable.
Calder yanks the door open and urges his team inside, narrowing his gaze over their heads at the Lady Commander. “How long has your father been sitting on my throne?”
“Since you imprisoned my mother.” She cocks her head, raising a brow.
“All right, everyone inside!” Gunni ushers the warriors between Thora and Calder, standing at opposite ends of the door frame.
“Why would I take the Queen?” He is dumbfounded by this development and is growing increasingly and unusually unhinged in his anger. They are running out of time to rescue Aura, and dealing with any additional bullshit has made it difficult for him to maintain his composure.
“That’s what my father believes. According to him, your dear, sweet mother stormed Blackwood and captured her to Skalor.” She picks some dirt from under her nails.
Gods, be damned!
“And you, of all people, buy this load of horse shit?” He counters as Gunni pokes his head outside.
“It’s awfully dark outside. Why don’t we bring this discussion inside?” His Second urges.
“Light a fire then, Gunni.” Thora waves him off, and he groans, letting the door slam. “I don’t buy a damn word, but I am not the one you have to convince. It’s Uncle Sig, and he wants your head on a pike.”
He unsheathes Makt’s great axe and shoves the Astrian steel blade at the Lady Commander. “I have been too busy preparing to murder my parents to kidnap or imprison Queen Avina.”
“Put that away before you hurt yourself.”
“We have little time. Lavinia captured Aura-”
“You allowed someone to abduct my sister again?” She presses her fingers to her temple. “Get in the damn Keep.”
With a growl, he shoves inside the warmth.
What is this presumption in my bloody home?
He heads up to the main floor, filled with many of his officers, who incline their heads in respect of his presence.
Gunni scrambles from a chair beside the staircase leading to the kitchen and lower level. “What do you need?”
Calder scratches the back of his neck as he enters the main floor sitting room where his team waits. Crystal leans against the stone hearth while Edmund and Argnier pace opposite one another.
“How long has Sigvid been here?” Calder asks to anyone willing to answer.
Thora sweeps past him into the room, glancing through the wide window overlooking the deserted rampart. When she turns to face them, he can see the worry lines on her face.
“We need to discuss my father.”