80AD - The Hammer of Thor (Book 2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Jade!” Marcus’ hoarse cry echoed across the dark lake.

  He and Phoenix reached her motionless form at the same time. Phoenix risked a quick look up at the troll, relieved to see it turn away from them. Several Svear warriors taunted it; waving their torches about; yelling abuse and curses at it; trying to lead it away.

  Marcus crouched beside her, his fingers on her throat. The Roman looked up at Phoenix and shook his head. His jaw was clenched, dark eyes stricken.

  “She’s dead.”

  Phoenix crouched too, elbows resting on his knees. Jade looked as if she were sleeping – except that her neck was twisted in a way that would not be possible if she were alive. Her right leg and arm both lay at awkward angles. A thin line of blood trickled from her mouth.

  He swallowed hard, trying to stay calm. She wasn’t really dead. She had just lost one of her seven lives. He struggled to reassure himself but worry welled up in him. Maybe he’d been right before. Maybe the seven-lives thing wasn’t part of the game; maybe she was, truly, dead and he was alone; maybe he would have to fight with this weird world on his own. Dammit, he’d gotten used to having Jade around. How was he supposed to win the game without her? How could she do something so stupid?

  Phoenix shook all over. He fought the urge to hit something; to run somewhere – anywhere but here. Trying to think logically, he drew a deep breath. A quick look at the handle of her dagger showed that one of the seven rubies had, indeed, cracked and dulled. His shoulders slumped in relief. Maybe there was still hope. If she was going to recover, they would have to at least give her body a chance to heal itself. It had to be impossible to come back to life all twisted up like that.

  Resolutely, he reached out and turned her onto her back. Her limbs flopped unpleasantly. Marcus uttered a wordless protest then reached out to help as he realized what Phoenix did. Together, the boys laid their friend out straight on the rocky ground, hands crossed on her chest, eyes peacefully closed.

  “Will she…?” Marcus asked in a choked voice. He laid calloused fingers gently against her cheek, staring at her serene countenance.

  “I think so.” Phoenix’s voice shook. “I hope so.” She had to. Had to. He couldn’t bear to think of the consequences if she didn’t.

  From somewhere behind them came a frustrated, gravelly roar from the troll-mother; followed by the crackling sound of a burning tree and the strong scent of pine-smoke. Then the ruckus of shouting warriors and thunderous troll-feet was coming closer again.

  “We have to get her somewhere safer, though.”

  Stooping, he picked up the horn of Aurfanon and jammed it into Jade’s pack. Fat lot of good blowing that stupid thing had done. Where was the help it promised? How were they supposed to kill the troll now? Damn Jade for coming up with such a brainless idea anyway!

  With teeth gritted against the anxiety that thudded in his chest, he handed the pack to Marcus and scooped Jade up in his arms. Her head lolled back, pale hair almost touching the ground. She was lighter than he thought; her skin still warm. He almost expected to feel a heartbeat beneath his fingers. She couldn’t be really dead. His thoughts seesawed between helpless denial and unreasonable resentment at her foolhardiness. Please, please don’t let her be dead, the chant ran ceaselessly though his head as he turned away from the cliff.

  A cold, swirling wind sprang up around them. With it came the fresh scent of earth, horses, dogs and, oddly, a hint of sweet wine. Eddies caught at their hair and clothes, fluttering Jade’s cloak and hair like butterfly wings. It carried the faint, haunting sound of a hunting horn, followed by the baying of hounds and the soft drift of wild laughter and music.

  “What is it?” Marcus’ hushed voice sounded at his shoulder.

  Phoenix stared into the darkness, puzzled. “It sounds like there’s a hunt of some sort going on out there.”

  “A hunt?” Marcus was incredulous. “At night?”

  “Strange, alright,” he agreed, “especially since it’s coming from out over the lake.”

  He peered into the purple gloom. Again the eerie wail of a hunting horn echoed thinly through the cold air, closer this time. The hounds bayed louder but the thunder of hooves was strangely absent. Distant, greenish lights flickered over the dark water. Laughter and song ebbed and flowed with the wash of lively music but it all had a weird, other-worldly quality that set Phoenix’s teeth on edge.

  “There!” Marcus pointed out across the lake toward a host of bobbing, pale green lights.

  “I see, but what exactly are they?” Phoenix squinted through the darkness.

  “I have no idea.”

  Several tense moments passed. The swaying lights drew nearer as the two boys watched, spellbound. They barely even registered the now-distant noises of Svear warriors leading the troll away through the forest.

  Finally, the lights were close enough to illuminate the folk who bore them aloft.

  “By Jupiters’ beard!” Marcus swore softly.

  “What the...?” Phoenix had no idea what to say, so he let his words trail off as they stared in awe.

  A multitude of merrymaking hunters galloped majestically toward the cliff. Seated on horses that practically glowed white were twenty or more of the most beautiful, frightening people Phoenix had ever seen. Impossibly tall, severely elegant and unbearably handsome, each rider wore a shimmering, midnight-blue, belted tunic over breeches tucked into high boots. Many of them had grey cloaks, falling gracefully from their shoulders to drape across their horses’ withers. All had long, white-blond hair, pale skin and high, sharp cheekbones.

  Several carried torches burning with an eerie, greenish light that echoed the magic radiance Jade had cast. Did cast, Phoenix corrected himself. All bore hunting bows and swords or daggers of some silvery metal, glinting purple-blue in the torchlight. Some also held and played a strange assemblage of musical instruments: harps, flutes and drums he’d never seen before. Their eerie music plucked at Phoenix’s brain, distracting him and filling him with a deep sense of unease.

  Gambolling about the riders were a dozen enormous dogs. Pure white, with red ears and glowing red eyes, they were a frightening sight as they came closer. By far the oddest thing though, was that both their steeds and dogs pranced at least fifty feet above the surface of the lake. As the moon began to rise in the east, they rode on air and moonbeams.

  Marcus dropped a hand to his sword. “They are Elvenkind – Jade’s folk. They must be.”

  Phoenix saw the similarities – and the pointed ears. Jade did look like them, but in a more human way. All the exaggerated, almost alien beauty of these riders was, in her face, softened into loveliness more acceptable to humans.

  “You’re right,” he whispered back, “but that doesn’t explain who they are or why they’re here.”

  At that moment, the whole cavalcade spilled over the cliff edge and reined to a halt only metres away from the two warriors. On a curt command, the dogs sat obediently beside their masters. The group formed a rough wedge behind one person: a terrifyingly tall, elegant male dressed similarly to the others but with a cloak of silver and a thin, silver coronet around his forehead. His eyes were the blackest pits of boredom, his expression faintly contemptuous.

  Phoenix felt distinctly at a disadvantage. He still held Jade’s limp form in his arms but he didn’t dare drop her to snatch at a weapon. Keeping half an eye on the newcomers, he tried to look casual and non-threatening as he laid her gently on the cold ground at his feet. Resting a hand on his new sword, he stepped over her.

  The music stopped. The horses and dogs came to a complete halt. Phoenix felt as if twenty pairs of slanted, Elvish eyes were focussed on him which, unfortunately, they were. He gulped, wishing for Brynn’s roguish tongue. Remembering his manners, he bowed jerkily. He had a vague idea that Elves were a lot more powerful than Jade and a lot more arrogant. Probably best to be polite.


  “My lords,” he began.

  The leader held up a slender hand and stared coolly down at him.

  “What mortal dares summon the Wild Hunt?” Disdain chilled his voice.

  Caught off guard, Phoenix exchanged frantic glances with Marcus. Then the Roman’s eyes widened and he glanced at Jade’s backpack, dangling from his fingers. The horn, of course! Jade’s use of the magic horn had summoned them.

  Relieved to have cleared up that mystery, Phoenix bowed again.

  “We did, my lord,” he managed.

  “By what right do you possess the Horn of Aurfanon?” the Elven leader demanded.

  Phoenix thought fast. If he gave the wrong answer, would they leave without helping?

  “By right of gift, my lord.” He waved a hand at Jade’s inert shape. “Our companion met and was befriended by Queen Aurfanon, in Albion. The Queen lent us the horn to help us complete our quests. We used the horn to summon help but we didn’t know what form the aid would take.”

  The Elven king leaned forward in his saddle, staring past Phoenix at Jade. His expression tightened to something close to dismay. Phoenix felt his heartrate jump. What if he thought they’d killed Jade, a half-elf? They stood no chance at all against twenty well-armed Elves.

  The Elven king swung down off his mount. His followers exchanged startled, wary glances. Phoenix and Marcus moved to protect their fallen comrade but the king raised one thin eyebrow at them and stared until they edged aside. He knelt gracefully beside Jade, his frown deepening as he brushed hair from her face.

  “What colour were her eyes?”

  Phoenix stared at him blankly. The question was so unexpected he didn’t know what to say. The king stood swiftly, towering over him, his expression bleak.

  “Green, sir,” Marcus put in quietly, coming to his rescue.

  At this, the king’s already-pale face turned ashen. He closed his eyes briefly, glanced back down at Jade then drew himself up, his face once more cold and haughty.

  “If you have called us to save her from death then we are too late.” With a swirl of his cloak, he turned away and placed a foot in the stirrup, preparing to mount.

  “No!” Phoenix called. “We called for aid in destroying a troll.”

  The Elven leader paused for a second, considering. He shook his head. “We are not interested in hunting trolls. Farewell.”

  “But this troll killed the Svear king and many of his people,” Phoenix said urgently, “and it did this to Jade.” He couldn’t explain why he’d said it; he just hoped the Elves would want to be revenged on whoever killed their kin. He was right.

  A frightening sternness came over the king’s narrow face. His dark eyes blazed with anger. In one smooth movement, he swung onto his horse and gathered the reins. Rapidly, he spoke over his shoulder in Elvish to quick for Phoenix to catch. Half of his troupe nodded, smiled with devilish delight and spurred their steeds toward the distant sounds of troll-wrought destruction. Their horses’ hooves made no sound as they skimmed above the earth. The dogs followed, baying again.

  Phoenix, Marcus and the rest of the Elves stood frozen, listening. Moments later came the satisfying sound of trollish frustration and the spine-tingling laughter of Elves on the hunt. The two warriors gaped as ten Elven hunters appeared above the forest. Bound in a dozen slender, silvery ropes, dangling between the horses and dogs, threshed the roaring shape of Grendel’s mother. Still laughing, the Elves galloped overhead, out across the lake, heading east. As the grinding sound of the troll’s anger faded, Phoenix managed to shut his jaw and turn back to the Elven king. The Elf gazed down at him with faint humour. He inclined his head regally.

  “It is done. The troll will be carried into the morning sun then dropped into the sea. Now may we go?” His question was tinged with irony.

  Phoenix flushed. Obviously his little ploy to involve the Elves by appealing to their desire for revenge had not gone unnoticed. Plucking up his courage, he managed one more request.

  “We need to get to Uppsala, quickly. Can you help us?”

  The king frowned again, his slanted brows snapping together. “What of your fallen companion? Is she worth no more than a cold grave above ground? Will you not bury her with dignity?”

  Phoenix took a deep breath. Here was the crucial moment. Would the king be angry when he found out Jade might not be permanently dead?

  “I believe she can be returned to us, good sir, if you will give us further aid this night. Will you?”

  “Returned to you!” The Elven king’s face showed quick series of emotions that baffled Phoenix: anger, disbelief then finally hope. “By what manner of magic can you, a mortal, restore life?” he asked haughtily.

  “She and I are...unique... in this world, my lord.” He searched for the right words. “I can only say that I believe she will recover if given a chance. It’s worth a try.”

  “A non-answer if ever I heard one, warrior.” The king was not deceived. “However, we all have our secrets, do we not?” He glanced one more time at Jade’s still face. “Very well. We shall take you to Álfheimr.” He paused for a moment, staring over Phoenix’s shoulder at the forest behind. A thin smile pulled at his lips. “Shall we also take the little godling who lurks among the trees, watching? She would appear to be far from home.”

  Phoenix and Marcus sighed in unison and turned around.

  “Truda!” Phoenix yelled. “You can come out now!”

  There was a moment of silence, and then two small figures stepped out from the shrubbery. In front strode Truda, proud as any princess. Behind her, looking sheepish, came Brynn. He led their pack horses and cast awed glances at the glowing Elven host. When they were close enough, Truda exchanged stately nods with the king, who luckily chose not to take offence. Brynn bowed deeply and received a scornful glance from his young companion.

  “How did you get here?” Phoenix demanded. “I wanted you two safe outside the village.”

  “That messenger didn’t want to miss out on the fight.” Brynn was breathless. “He led us here. What were we supposed to do?” He spread his hands, giving his best innocent look.

  Phoenix didn’t believe him for a moment but whatever he’d intended to say was cut short when the boy caught sight of Jade’s body. Brynn gasped in horror, his eyes wide. He dropped the reins and threw himself over her with a wail of despair. He grabbed her slim shoulders and shook her.

  “Jade! Jade! Wake up!” When she didn’t, he buried his face in her neck and sobbed.

  Truda stood by, looking troubled. Marcus hurried over to Brynn, dragging the boy aside, murmuring explanations and reassurance into his ear. Slowly, Brynn’s tears dried. He sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve.

  “Do you really think...?” He cast hopeful glances between Phoenix, Marcus and the Elven king.

  “I’m hoping we can bring her back,” Phoenix said for at least the third time – and hopefully the last, “but I think we need to do it fast, or she may be gone forever.” Truthfully, he had no idea if this was right but he was getting pretty tired of explaining and he wanted to get moving. Each time he thought about Jade, he had to suppress the fear that he might be wrong; that she was already gone forever.

  Even if she weren’t then it was time to move on. The troll was gone. They’d done their duty by the village. Now they needed to get on with their own quest before Zhudai found them or something else nasty decided to get in their way.

  Glancing up at the Elven king’s cold, aloof eyes, Phoenix wondered briefly if they hadn’t jumped into the proverbial fire. The Elves didn’t exactly look thrilled to be taking on passengers.