Chapter Fifty Thera
CHAPTER FIFTY
Thera
She watched Felnir lead his bedraggled but resolute band of warriors towards the Vortigurn’s hall, beset by a lingering amazement at finding him alive and a familiar frustration at his recklessness.
Yet there was also a sharp, raw need to discover if he spoke true.
Could Guthnyr really be alive and also in this city?
Moments before, it had been her intention to burn the Citadel to its foundations.
All her lines of advance had resulted in a bloodbath.
Although she didn’t yet know the full cost to her menda, it was surely grievous.
So she ordered no further advances and had all the oil casks from her fleet brought ashore.
The western districts appeared to be the least populated so she resolved to start the blaze among its close-packed houses.
The wind summoned by the gathering storm above the tower would be sure to carry the flames to the heart of the city.
But for the shock of encountering her brother, it would already be blazing.
“Ragnalt,” she said, hefting the dreadaxe.
“Have the casks set aside and follow in close order…” Her voice dwindled to a faint rasp as a wave of confusion swept through her.
Heat blossomed in her chest, concentrated where her skin met the silver knot she still wore, the one given to her by her great-grandfather.
The surrounding streets and houses wavered, as if she saw them through murky water.
The heat of the trinket flared into a vicious burn, sending her to her knees.
She heard the clang of the dreadaxe upon the cobbles as a distant echo.
“Thera!”
She looked up at Ragnalt’s panicked face, but it was a vague thing, soon lost to an encroaching gloom. Thera felt all sensation slip away as the void closed in, leaving her drifting in darkness.
“Thera!” Her name again, but spoken by a different voice. It was faint, but it held a gravelly, impatient note she recognised.
“Great-grandfather!” she called into the dark, beset by memories of descending through red clouds formed of her own blood. As always, any reminder of Eshilde’s betrayal was sure to rouse her temper. “Where are you!” she demanded. “What have you done? I have no time for this!”
The vision arrived with jarring suddenness, the void instantly replaced with a scene she had long tried to forget.
Embers flitted the air like fireflies while smoke assailed her throat and eyes.
She stood before Margnus Gruinskard with the library of King Aeric burning to his rear.
Except now she saw him as she had when he departed Skar Magnol aboard the Ohlnir.
One handed as well as one eyed, his face was even more rich in wrinkles and scars than it had been this terrible night.
More importantly, he wasn’t alone. Elvine stood at his side, grasping her gods-blessed spear, her youthful features riven with urgency.
“Forgive us this intrusion, my queen,” the scholar said. “But we had no other choice.”
“How…?” Thera looked around at the smoke-shrouded streets of Olversahl. “I was awake, not dreaming…”
“With this,” Elvine said, raising her spear. “Please, my queen. I must know. Have you reached Nihlvar?”
Thera might have taken offence at the strident demand in the Spear Maiden’s tone, but her stark urgency made it seem a petty concern.
“I stand in their capital,” Thera said. “Ready to administer justice. The people here…” She shook her head.
“Some form of madness has gripped them, turned them into ravening beasts. My duty is clear—”
“You must stop fighting!” Elvine cut in. “Else all will be lost. By fighting on you do the Vortigurn’s bidding. You now stand ensnared in his trap.”
“Trap?” Thera almost laughed in derision. “The last of his warriors lie dead upon this city’s docks. Soon, I will turn his hall and his capital to ash, and he with it.”
“All he has done has been to bring us to this moment,” Elvine insisted, stepping forward with her spear lowered. “This will make you understand.”
Thera was too shocked by the swift audacity of her action to prevent the Spear Maiden stabbing her.
She drove the iron head of her arcane weapon deep into Thera’s chest, birthing an inferno of pain.
“I found Lore,” Thera heard Elvine say as the fiery torment ripped through her.
“I found the Veyinmihr. The legends were right: it is a place where truth is revealed. This is what it showed me.”
Thera found herself transported again, cast high into the air to find herself looking down upon a burning city.
At first she assumed it to be Olversahl, but then recognised the shape of the coast and the tower looming over the flaming streets.
Above it was the same strange storm, now greatly expanded, its centre a broadening black maw.
Something about that widening cavity stirred an instinctive revulsion in her.
She found she could sense the hunger emanating from it.
Moreover, she could also sense the anger, pain and fury rising from the city below to feed it.
What came next unfolded in a rush of horror.
The blackness seeped from the centre of the storm to engulf the Citadel, sweeping every living soul up in its hungry grasp as ravening, formless creatures emerged from that dark tide to consume those hapless souls.
“I’m sorry, my queen,” she heard Elvine say, her voice distant and fading. “But now you know what must be done…”
Thera returned to the waking world with a convulsive gasp, dragging in air that, despite being laden with the stink of slaughter, still tasted sweet.
She was on her hands and knees, staring at bloodstained cobbles as a familiar voice repeated her name.
Ragnalt must have perceived some kind of rebuke in her gaze when she looked up at him.
Retreating a step, he lowered his head, saying, “My queen.”
Thera got to her feet, swaying a little.
“Tell them to stop that,” she said, nodding to a group of warriors busily disgorging the contents of several oil casks into a nearby inn.
“Return to the docks. Spread the word that all my warriors must do the same. Form a shield wall, but make no further advance.”
Stooping, she retrieved the dreadaxe, then paused when she noticed Ragnalt hadn’t moved. His expression made it plain that he was considering the possibility Thera, Queen of the Ascarls, had lost her mind.
“Follow your queen’s commands!” she snapped, the implacable authority in her voice banishing the doubt from his features. Straightening, he gave a firm nod of compliance.
“And you, my queen?” he asked.
“I’ll join you soon,” she assured him, starting towards the Vortigurn’s hall at a steady run. “First, I must find my brothers.”