She stopped a few steps away from the bearded Northmen, who stared back at the Hikeda’ya as though they were something entirely unknowable. Suno’ku spread her arms and stood with her feet wide apart; it took a moment before the guards realized she was waiting for them. Half a dozen burly Northmen now came toward her, creatures Viyeki thought more like stubby mountain giants than people. These gross mortals ran their hands over Suno’ku’s body and one of them said something to his fellows, which provoked a nervous laugh from a few of the others.
“I speak your tongue well enough,” Suno’ku said. “And in any case, you should know that I do not need any weapon to end you. I could do it with my hands alone, and you would be dead before you fell.”
The Rimmersmen were war-hardened killers who gave no obvious sign of having heard what she said, but Viyeki’s keen eyes saw the tightening of their muscles, the narrowing of their eyes.
When the Hikeda’ya legates had all been searched, the mortal guards retreated to one side. The biggest of the waiting Northmen waved them back even farther. They obeyed him, but with the unhappy look of dogs kept on too short a rope. Viyeki thought the large one must be their leader, Duke Isgrimnur. His beard was not quite so long or full as the others—the shortest of the mortal captains had a trail of whiskers so lengthy it was tucked into his belt—but everything else about the duke seemed oversized. His chest was broad, his belly even more so, and Viyeki thought he looked like a creature who could not control his appetites. His face was broad too, with a tinge of choleric red, but the man’s eyes were shrewd and strangely calm.
“Well, my lady, we meet at last,” said the duke in a deep, rumbling voice. “I fear none of us can speak your tongue. Can we trust you to translate our words fairly to your people?”
“As I said, I use your tongue well enough for this day,” said Suno’ku. “And though I do not know all its twistings and turnings, I do not think in any case that I am anyone’s lady. I am Suno’ku seyt-Iyora, Host General of the Queen’s Sacrifices, and I speak for my lord Muyare, the Queen’s High Marshal. Speak your terms so that we may get on with this.”
Isgrimnur’s mouth curled in what might have been a smile. “Very well. You see that we have come in good faith, as we promised on our love for our God. Neither my companions nor myself are armed. We wish only to talk straightly with you.”
“There has already been more than enough talk,” she said. “State your terms.”
“You are as abrupt in diplomacy as in battle,” the duke said almost approvingly. “Very well. You must know that your position is hopeless. We have cleared the mountainside of your soldiers, sealed your burrows, and now you are trapped in this place with your backs against stone. Your people crossed into our lands and attacked us, and aided the Storm King in trying to destroy us. But we are not animals. If you surrender and open your mountain fortress to us, we will not harm any innocent women or children. In fact, they may go freely and we will give them passage, as long as they do not try to cross back into the lands of men.”
Several of the duke’s men stared open-mouthed, as though this were something they had not heard before. The short one with the long beard said, “Let them go free? Even if it is only women and children, that is madness, my lord!”
“Quiet, Vigri. The king and queen in Erkynland gave me the power to dispose of this struggle as I deem fitting.” Isgrimnur had never taken his eyes off General Suno’ku. “Do you understand me?”
Do the rest of us not even exist? Viyeki wondered. Are we no more than court musicians, while Suno’ku is the dancer who all watch? But as he looked at the pale-haired warrior standing so straight and unconcerned before the burly mortals, he was content to let her stand for them all.
“Truly?” Suno’ku asked. “I am female, Duke, as you may have noticed. Will you let me walk free? And many of my Sacrifices are women too. Shall they all go free?” She shook her head. “You do not know anything about us, mortal. Children? Even our children are twice your age—thrice, even ten times!—and, I doubt not, many times wiser as well.”
The yellow-bearded mortal beside the duke said something quiet but angry into Isgrimnur’s ear.
“Peace, Sludig,” the duke said. “She is more fighter than diplomat, but we guessed that already. I said ‘innocent,’ General. I understand your women fight too. I meant those who had not raised arms against us.”
“Are those your only terms, then?” Suno’ku demanded, her disgust very plain. “Surrender our home and our females and children can go free?”
The duke shook his head. “Your warriors—Sacrifices, do you call them?—must all lay down their arms. When they do, we will decide their fate, male or female. And your leaders must surrender to us as well. But for the rest, I will be merciful. You have my word as a man and as an Aedonite.”
For the first time one of the other legates spoke. “Our leaders?” demanded Yayano of the Celebrants. Viyeki thought his astonishment and fury must have been clear to even the most obtuse of the mortals. “You say we must surrender our leaders? Do you mean the queen herself, too—the Mother of All?”
Isgrimnur looked uncomfortable. “We will treat her with respect, you have my word. But yes, she must surrender to us along with her advisors. Your queen is no innocent. She was a great force behind the Storm King’s wrongful war on our people and lands.”
Viyeki was as shocked as the rest. He had been curious what the mortals intended to gain from this seemingly pointless meeting, but not in his wildest imaginings had he thought they would ask for the queen to be handed over. He felt as though he were on fire inside, and when Suno’ku raised her hand to forbid Yayano more angry questions, he was relieved. Now the general would curse the mortals and refuse them, then he and the others would return to the mountain so they could all prepare to die in a way that was fitting. If that was all they had left, the decision of how to make a proper end to the great song of their race, it was still better than surrender to this pack of hairy animals.
But to Viyeki’s astonishment, Suno’ku merely said, “If you are finished, we will take your words to our leaders. You will have our reply by dawn tomorrow.” She turned on her heel and began to march back toward the gates. Viyeki fell in behind her with the rest of the legates, so stunned that his thoughts seemed barren, like a high mountain pass scoured by gale winds.
As the mountain’s face loomed above them, Suno’ku abruptly stopped. The salley-gate was opening, but at her sharp order the guards inside let it grind to a halt.
“Wait for me there,” she told Viyeki and the others. “I have one last word for the duke.”
“Do not throw yourself away,” said Yayano. He looked to Nijika, legate from the Order of Song, but it was impossible to tell from her expression whether the tattooed Singer agreed or disagreed with him.
Viyeki felt the ominous mood drop over him again like a chilly fog. “Stay with us, General,” he begged. “There is nothing to dispute. Their surrender terms are no terms at all.”
“I did not ask you, Builder,” Suno’ku said, not even glancing in his direction. “You have the words to take back to our masters. Those shameful words.” Her face was like something carved on an old temple, the expression something that no one alive could read and properly understand. “I have now fulfilled my task, and thus am no longer a legate.”
“But, General . . . !” Viyeki began.
“Silence.” She fixed him with a stare so hard and cold that it almost made him stagger. “Go back to your drawings and tools, although they will avail you little. Mere stones cannot save us now.” And so saying, she left them in the shadow of the gate and marched toward the mortals.
Duke Isgrimnur and his men had turned away to return to their lines, but a cry of warning from one of the guards made them face around. Viyeki could see the duke talking angrily to his men as he tried to get free of them and turn back to meet Suno’ku.
He
re is the flaw in the stone, Viyeki thought with sudden apprehension but could not say why. All he knew was that in that instant, as he watched the two walk toward each other, the slender Hikeda’ya and the broad, shaggy mortal, he felt he stood before a weak place in the world and time, a flaw that had been there for countless years but had only now worked its way to the surface. He did not know precisely what had come before or what would come after, but he knew nothing would be the same. Without thinking, he took a few steps after Suno’ku, but the other legates grabbed at him and held him back.
“Damn you, Sludig, I love you like a son, but if you lay your hand on me again you will lose it.”
“My lord, Duke Isgrimnur, please—”
“By Heaven’s bloody hammer, I will speak to her!” Isgrimnur knew it was what his young king and queen back in Erkynland would want. And even though he had to swallow his own hatred to do it, he knew that it was what his God wanted, too, or his faith was all sham.
He turned to face the Norn warrior. Even as a trickle of fear made its way through his innards, he could not help admiring her. Her walk was purposefully martial, yet her every movement was that of a sleek predator, a cat or wolf. The duke was twice her size, but Isgrimnur had seen the Norns fight hand to hand, and he knew that if it abruptly came to blows, he would be hard-pressed to keep himself alive until his men could help him.
“I wait for you, General,” he called. “Do you think to kill me? I warn you, Jarl Vigri is small but his heart is that of a giant’s. It is also full of hate for your people. And there are others of my nobles I could not even bring to the parley because I could not trust their fury.”
“I do not come to kill you, Duke Isgrimnur.” She stopped in front of him. “I come to tell you something you should know. The Hikeda’ya will never surrender either our mountain or our queen. Never.”
“Then why the hurry to inform me? Tomorrow at dawn would be soon enough. Our task will still be the same.”
The fairy woman stared at him for long moments. Isgrimnur did his best to hold her eye calmly, marveling that he should have to steady his knees in the face of a slender woman more than a head shorter than himself.
“I think your kind are little better than animals,” she said at last, “But I think you are an honest mortal. That does not mean I would not happily kill you and tie your head to my saddle by that bristling beard.”
“Of course not. Is that why you returned—to flatter me?”
She smirked—it could be called nothing else. The duke had never seen a Norn smile. It was an unsettling experience.
“I said before that you do not understand us. I will tell you once more, and then the Garden itself will witness I have behaved honorably. We will not surrender, mortal. Even if you batter down our ancient gates and bring all your numbers into our mountain, still we will not surrender. You said that the women and children could flee, but you understand nothing about us. Not even the lowliest caste-servants or slaves will give in, even if you kill every Sacrifice.” She pointed toward the mountain. “Those Hikeda’ya you dismiss as mere women and children will lie in wait for your warriors in every dark place of our home, at every bend in every tunnel, with stones and sharp sticks. And eventually there will come a moment desperate enough that the Order of Singers will call up some of the older, darker inhabitants of our mountain. Those of your brutes who are not slaughtered will stumble in waking nightmare through the dark places until they die. You cannot conceive of the terrors you will face, Duke of Elvritshalla. Victory? That is no word for what the survivors of your army will take away from Nakkiga—those few who escape. Madness will be their reward. Madness and death.”
Something rumbled as she finished. Isgrimnur looked up at the sky, but the low gray firmament was so full of darkly knotted clouds that the thunder might have come from any direction.
“I thank you for your honesty, General. I will not make the mistake of calling you ‘Lady’ again.” He folded his arms across his chest. “But do not mistake my troops, either. They are fierce fighters all, hard men. They have faced your kind many times already and do not fear them. And they have many losses to avenge.”
Suno’ku looked at him again. The duke thought he could see something moving behind the bland face, a hint of what almost looked like surprise.
“Losses?” she said, her voice cold as the sky. “Losses, you say? I saw a hundred of my best Sacrifices die before my eyes at Asu’a. I saw my foreparent, our greatest general, pulled down and swarmed by your rabble. I found his body in pieces.”
“Asu’a. You mean the Hayholt.” Isgrimnur fought down his own anger. “My son and heir died there at your people’s hands. My son. And Thane Brindur’s son was burned alive by your troops only a short time ago, remember? We could hear his screams all over the battlefield.” The sky rumbled again, and this time even the ground seemed to shudder. Isgrimnur wondered if the Norns were working some foul new weather-magic. Was he being stalled? What other reason could this hard-faced killer have to trade words with him after their business was plainly finished?
“Then we both have little reason to speak more,” she said. Strangely, she seemed almost relieved. “We are finished here.”
“I suppose we are,” said Isgrimnur. “But I would ask one more question. You are brave, General—maybe even more than the rest of your fierce race. I knew that from the first moment I saw you. I do not expect any pity from you for my kind, but is there no pity in you for your own people? Would your pride condemn every one of them to death?”
“It is not pride, Duke Isgrimnur. My people are everything to me,” she said. “I would die for them a thousand times, but they would do the same for their queen and their land without question.” She said it so simply that he knew for her it was an utter truth. It also meant that she was right: the time for talk was over.
This time the rumble came not just from the sky but all around. Isgrimnur looked up, surprised. Sludig was running toward him.
“The gate!” he shouted. “The White Foxes are opening the gate! Treachery! The Norns are attacking!”
But the gate was still closed, Isgrimnur saw, nothing open but the salley-port, and that barely, with the other three Norn legates still standing before it, watching. He looked to Suno’ku, but she seemed as puzzled as he was. She stared up into the sky for a long, searching moment before turning toward the great bulk of the mountain.
Sludig reached Isgrimnur, grabbed his arm, and yanked so hard that the duke almost fell. Another guard reached him too, and the two of them began to wrestle him back toward the Rimmersgard lines. “Hurry!” Sludig cried.
But no force of Norns were issuing from the gate; it was still closed, though the noise was growing louder all around, deafeningly loud, like the hooves of ten thousand mounted riders or more.
Stumbling backward as his men pulled at him, Isgrimnur looked up at the mountainside and saw a massive cornice of stone, far above the gate, abruptly break loose from the slope’s evening-darkened face with a crack louder than a thunderclap. It began to shudder and slide downward, breaking into pieces as it came.
“The mountain,” Isgrimnur cried. “By Dror’s Mallet, the mountain itself is falling!”
The first great pieces of stone smashed down around the gate, digging huge gouges in the snowy ground, throwing up splatters of mud. A massive length of stone had come loose from the mountain face directly above the gate, a piece of rock big enough to hold a good-sized Rimmersgard town; it broke into pieces as it shuddered and scraped its way downward. Men were screaming and shouting all around. Isgrimnur himself might have been one of them, but the roar was growing louder by the instant and he could not tell. The rumble became a deep, rasping growl that seemed to shake every bone in his body until he thought they would shatter—and yet, astonishingly, his feet were still under him.
Isgrimnur was half-running, half-staggering toward his troops when suddenly his legs
were swept from beneath him and he fell heavily, face down into the mud. Then something shook the ground so brutally that he was bounced up into the air and flipped over onto his back. He saw a black boulder the size of a house cartwheel toward him down the sloping side of the valley, but he could not move because Sludig was clutching his legs.
The great oblong stone bounded past them. It hit the looser soil of the valley floor and teetered up on one end for a moment, then fell back, crashing to the ground in an eruption of snowy earth and small stones just a scant dozen yards from where the duke and his rescuer Sludig lay. Shards of rock as big as Isgrimnur himself rained down around them, but the duke could only cover his head and stare back at the mountain.
As the last and largest chunks of stone tumbled down the steep mountain face, some of them a hundred cubits or more in length, Isgrimnur thought he saw the pale form of the Norn general Suno’ku still standing in the same spot where they had last spoken, facing the mountain, as unmoving as if she had been god-struck. Then the great sliding mass of stone came down where she stood, grinding and crashing, and she was gone.
For long moments afterward the noise echoed along the valley like the groan of a retreating storm. Then, at last, it was silent.
The ancient gate and the entire lower front of the mountain had vanished from view, buried under uncountable tons of black stone, a monstrous mass of ship-sized boulders and crushed and broken rock piled far up the mountain’s slope.
Isgrimnur wiped his face. His hand came away bloody, although he felt no pain. Sludig crawled up beside him. The duke could hear screams from the troops who had been crushed beneath the outer edge of the rockfall but had not been lucky enough to die. But from the mountain, from the city of the Norns, there was only the near-silence of settling stone and the occasional patter as a rock bounced down the piled rubble until it found a resting place.
“Duke Isgrimnur,” Sludig asked, pulling at his arm. Isgrimnur could barely hear him, his ears still deafened. “Do you live? Are you badly hurt?”