Darkness Forged by Matt Larkin

Author:Matt Larkin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Incandescent Phoenix Books

Part II

Year 97, Age of Vingethor

End of Winter

15

They had spent two moons chasing ghosts. The Niflungar did not engage them, despite Slagfid’s best efforts. They vanished into the mists of their goddess, only to once again sweep away a man or a woman. Sometimes whole families.

And so King Frothi had paid their tribute, though it had nigh crippled his kingdom. Kelda took it hard, as a personal insult. But they could not move well in winter, and so they passed their nights watching over the town. Great patrols of ten, twelve men, each bearing a torch. The town consisted of nine thatch-roofed longhouses and the king’s own great house, plus outlying fields and work houses. It was a lot to patrol. Still, no more families vanished. Slagfid wished he could attribute it to his diligence, but he knew it had only happened because Frothi had met their demands.

More moons passed then, one by one. And there was stillness. Even the patrols had ended long since.

Now though, winter had broken. And a new emissary had come to the court. The man had refused to enter the king’s hall and so stood out in the square. He appeared just after sunset, demanding Frothi attend him.

Slagfid stood at one side of the hall, while Kelda stood beside her father. The king stared at the emissary, a man who had not even lowered the hood of his cloak. Indeed, mist writhed about his feet, coiling like a nest of serpents.

“Speak then,” Frothi said. “What do you wish now?”

“Each kingdom in Reidgotaland is to pay us tribute equal to their king’s weight in gold.”

Slagfid had to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling at that. The lean winter had not worn away all of Frothi’s oversized gut. His people would be paying a fair bit more than the average kingdom. And it seemed the question they had all feared was answered—the Niflungar would indeed expect their tribute annually.

“How dare you?” Frothi fumbled with his own sword on his back. “Do you think you can bleed us dry? That we will simply fawn over you like some southern weaklings?”

At the king’s motion, every other warrior readied their weapons. Including Slagfid. For once, he could see the foe before him.

With a battle cry, Kelda threw herself at the Niflung emissary. The man whipped his cloak around in front of her, and she stumbled, choking on a sudden blanket of mist. The shieldmaiden dropped her blade and fell to her knees, clutching her throat. Even as she fell, the sorcerer caught her wrist. She gasped, her face losing all color.

Slagfid charged forward an instant before the king. He swung at the sorcerer’s wrist. The man released Kelda and twisted again, stepping behind Slagfid. Immediately Slagfid spun, using his momentum to continue his swing. His sword met the mist as though he had tried to swing it through a curtain of water. The resistance slowed his blow and his enemy danced away again.

The princess had fallen over, clutching her wrist where the sorcerer had touched her.

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