Chapter 45 Calder #2
Calder is unsurprised that Makt fights with the experience and might the Norn afford to the God of Power. Still, he fends off his attacks until one slips past, slicing a gash up his leg. The rushing adrenaline dulls the pain, fueling him with a primal energy.
“That is the best you have? The God of Power cannot kill a mortal!” Calder taunts as their axes collide.
Makt grits his teeth as he shoves Calder away. “Many of your siblings have taken me on with a similar bite, and all have fallen at my feet.”
As the god’s fury builds, he becomes less stable, pressing with unhinged ferocity.
Calder keeps the image of Aura at the forefront of his mind to soothe the chaos within his veins. Each barrage from Makt is blocked with a snarl until he manages to push back against him. He kicks Makt in the stomach, eliciting the sharp hiss of a man realizing he may lose.
“You are making this too easy,” Calder mocks. “I can't wait to slice your head from your shoulders.”
Makt bellows as he swings vigorously. Calder barely manages to block his strikes.
One mistake, and he will kill me.
Thorns scratch at his back as Makt forces him into the field of roses.
Thinking he has him pinned, Makt aims, but Calder ducks, tumbling toward the forest's edge.
Makt pursues him with a disturbed smile. He swings again, but Calder dives just in time, causing the force of his steel to cleave a tree in two.
They both leap in opposite directions as the trunk slams into the snow.
Calder takes advantage of the distraction and leaps over the tree, landing behind Makt. He slices down the god’s back and, before he can recover, punches the fresh wound, forcing Makt to the ground.
Quickly, the god recovers as he dives for his axe, catching Calder’s by the blade and throwing it behind them.
“How are you going to kill me now?” He laughs as his attacks continue without pause.
Calder lunges away from the onslaught. He keeps his breathing even as he awaits his opportunity to assail him.
When Makt strikes over his head, the blade slams into the snow-covered path.
Calder steps on the handle, throwing his elbow into the side of his head. The force breaks the god’s nose with an echoing crack through the clearing. Blood spurts from his face, staining the pearly white powder at their feet.
So he can bleed.
Makt stumbles as Calder, spurred on by this revelation, retrieves the godly great axe and does not hesitate.
His hit strikes Makt in the abdomen, sinking into his gut.
“You spent too much time hiding behind your godly throne that you’ve grown soft.” Calder withdraws the axe and sinks it into his chest, again pooling blood onto the ground.
His sire grasps his midsection as his innards slip out through the sunken cavity.
“You have not won!” Blood gurgles from Makt’s lips. “This is my realm! The realm of a god. I cannot die, boy!”
“You should not have touched her!” He rips the blade from his chest, swings it over his head, and cleaves his skull in two.
He pulls his blade away and watches the bloody body crumble to the ground. A black mist envelops Makt, and tiny cracks of lightning sizzle throughout like dark tendrils.
Calder leaves the area, ducking behind the fallen tree. When he glances back, the cloud implodes, sending a shockwave powerful enough to slice through all the trees.
Makt’s body vanishes, leaving only a hole in the ground as evidence of their battle.
Relief floods his veins.
He is finally gone.
Calder recovers, securing the godly great axe on his back, and returns up the hill to collect his princess without another glance.
Before he reaches the altar, a slow clap shatters the eerie silence of the Abyss.
“Congratulations. My coin bag was always set on you.” A tall, broad-shouldered, hooded figure emerges from the shadows. A thick cloak so dark it could be darkness incarnate shrouds every bit of the stranger’s form, including his obscured features.
And yet, nothing about this individual is foreign to the Iss Drengr.
There is a disconcerting familiarity in his presence.
Anticipating yet another sinister being hoping to kill him, he once more withdraws the great axe.
“Oh! I see. Are you hoping to go two for two in the Abyss?” The figure’s laugh is dark and bitter, raising every hair along the back of Calder’s neck.
He is frozen in the snow, his weapon ready, yet he does not move to attack the stranger he suspects governs this realm.
The one god he hoped to evade during this particular visit.
“Makt was a complicated fellow. Can’t say I will miss him.”
Calder edges closer, his gaze fixed on the hooded being.
“Do you wish to slay me, Calder Avardsson? After I preserved the body and soul of your love?” The god’s tone is far from concerned that he carries a god-killing axe.
He is amused.
“I want to leave the Abyss with Aura.” Calder keeps his sights on him as he moves towards the altar. He risks glancing at the Princess, who has not shifted in her deathlike state.
“I did not say you could touch her yet, did I? We have more to discuss, Calder Avardsson.” While the shrouded god’s face remains concealed, the glint of a toothy smile is just visible beneath his cowl.
“I have nothing more to say. I accomplished what I came here to do.” He wants, no, demands nothing more than to return to the mortal realm and be done with gods for a decade or two.
“You are in my realm.” The God of Death chuckles. “And I did not release you.”
Dense static surrounds them as the atmosphere shifts.
Calder shoulders the great axe and trudges toward Aura.
However, he doesn’t reach the altar.
Instead, he and the weapon are unceremoniously tossed back into the snow like rag dolls. Before he can scramble for the god killing blade, it vanishes. He fumbles in the snow when that bitter laugh draws his ire.
The hooded god clutches Makt’s Great Axe, tilting his head as he examines the long shaft.
“Lighter than it looks. Still barbaric.” He drops it beside Aura as if it were a twig. “I now have two items to negotiate with, Calder Avardsson. Are you ready to converse with me, or would you like to continue playing these games? I have an eternity to wait for your answer.”
Calder’s face burns with brutal humiliation at being treated like a child. He remains kneeling in the snow, finally feeling the frustration that he cannot channel his frost, and full of a rage rivaling Sigvid’s.
He takes his time to push to his feet and approach the King of the Abyss, using every mental impression of Aura to keep from ripping him to shreds.
“We have not been properly introduced, Calder Avardsson. I am Volund, God of Death, King of the Abyss, Master of the Underworld. There will be no trial to remember my titles, although I will respond to any of them.” He gestures with a black-gloved hand.
As much rage courses through Calder’s veins, his nerves have him on edge, standing before the God of Death. It was one thing to suspect this man might control the entire Abyss. It was another to face him, knowing he could rip the realms apart.
“I have a unique ability to look in on people on the mortal plane. You and your little band of misfits know at least a suspicion that my realm is not in a right state. Freyr has always been a dear friend, but I dislike hosting three other gods for the last millennium. You mortals are under a false understanding that there are four Draemonium in the Abyss. I assure you, there is only one, and I am very much a solitary fellow.”
Calder takes a deep breath to steady his words. “Are you the rightful head of the pantheon?”
Volund tilts his head to the side, his toothy smile still intact on his shrouded face. “Perceptive.” He shifts position, and the crackling of the air makes the Iss Drengr twitch slightly.
“I am very interested in your future, Calder Avardsson.”
“What would my future hold that could interest the God of Death?”
Volund steps forward, and the snow beneath his feet melts past the brown grass, moving to the cracked earth. “I have a throne to reclaim. You have a princess to rescue and a home to return to. I believe someone of your capacity can assist me beautifully.”
Great, someone else wants to use me for my power.
Volund cackles. “Apologies for that. You are a tool. A potent tool, but a tool nonetheless.”
Can he read minds?
“I assume your next thought is that I am a mind reader. While I can read the runes far better than even Crystal, I do not degrade myself by ‘reading a mind.’ Rune interpretation is not some parlor trick to perform before wealthy lords. I know most things, Calder Avardsson. And I’m someone you don’t want against you. ”
“What are you plotting?”
This time, Volund does not answer immediately. Even with his face hidden, he senses Volund sizing him up.
“When I want you to know, I shall tell you. For now, I will allow you to leave my realm alive and intact. You may collect your axe and your girl’s soul and return to her preserved body. But know this: you owe me one favor to be called upon whenever I see fit.”
I will do anything for Aura, even if it means being tethered to the God of Death’s chain.
“I accept your terms.”
Volund nods. “One more item: it should be clear to you that I am not Makt. Should you or your companions try to enter my realm again or make a play on my life, know this…”
The air sparks along his skin, and the faint light illuminating the realm darkens until the only glow is a dark green hue around the God of Death.
“Your entry into the Abyss will be granted. Your life forfeit to me, the Master of the Underworld. There will be no escape, and I will claim your souls for my seidr.”
With that, the God of Death vanishes in a whoosh of verdant dust, returning the seidr light to normal and leaving Calder alone with Aura’s soul and Makt’s axe.
He rushes forward, cradling her body against his chest.
There will be time to break down Volund and his motives, but for now, his life is returning Aura to hers.
Once he possesses the axe and her soul, he feels the same sensation from when Briny took him into the Depths.
“I never forget favors owed to me, Calder Avardsson.” Volund’s voice is in every crevice of his mind.
Suddenly, the Abyss fades, and he stumbles back into Nightwall Keep.
The deafening roar of the lingering troops and their companions that follows fades to a murmur as he seeks Aura’s body, which is clutched tightly in the grip of a tearful Thora.
He drops Makt’s axe and kneels beside her body, gently allowing her ethereal form to merge with her physical self.
Thora inhales just as he does. They lean forward, waiting for her eyes to flutter open or her chest to rise.
Nothing.
“Sissy!” Thora tugs Aura into her chest.
Once again, the smooth voice of the God of Death whispers in his ear. “I am a man of my word. Take heed that your girl will wake in time. After all, my vengeance rests on your little clan.”