Days of Broken Oaths Read online

  “Funny, I said something similar when I first came here. And now the civilization that destroyed my world is another fading memory to your kind.”

  “My kind, huh? In one breath you speak as though your human life matters, while in the next you talk as though we are entirely different species. Which is it?”

  Arete smiled, shook her head, and offered no other answer. Instead she strolled over to a table and sat on its edge. “It’ll be evening very soon. We are children of the night. Soon, Tanna will grow more active. Already, our servants whisper of his agents hunting you. If they do not know you are here, they soon will.”

  Efficient, but not really surprising. “We want to draw him out anyway. Maybe I should help the others get ready, though. If it’s almost time …”

  “We have a little while yet.” She cocked her head to the side. “Something strikes me, Starkad. You’ve had a long life. That much I could garner from your blood. Long for a human man, at least. A mere blink of the eye to an immortal.”

  “So?”

  “So, what if it could be so very much longer? Indefinite, even?”

  Damn. She meant if he became like her. Deathless, but not really alive either. Starkad shook his head. “Not sure I’d want to live forever.”

  “What?” Arete made no effort to cover the shock on her face. “Why ever not? Do not tell me you truly believe human fancies about some glorious afterlife awaiting those who live and die well? As a being who has seen the dark of the Otherworlds, I assure you, naught better than this life awaits you beyond.”

  Now there was a sobering thought. The brutal, bloody, merciless world of men was as good as it got? Starkad shook his head. “Long life has cost me rather much already. Prices I paid willingly, without really understanding their weight. Things I’d have to carry with me down through the years. I walked away from immortality once already.”

  Arete rocked back as if uncertain whether to ask what he meant. She apparently decided against that, because she hopped off the table. “Then maybe it is time for you to get your people ready for the attack. We leave in an hour.”

  Starkad stared at her as she left. A strange creature, for certain. She’d drank his blood when torturing him. A day later, she was—apparently—offering him immortality. Why? Did she truly taste something so very tempting inside him?

  It hardly mattered. At least he kept trying to tell himself that. But her words had rent something open in him. Something that had to wonder if maybe some part of what she’d said about his need to wander might be the truth.

  If maybe he’d been searching for something all this time. Something that dwelt here in Miklagard.

  In the main hall, Starkad found Hervor grunting as she tried to wriggle on her mail. All their gear, weapons, and armor lay in a pile on the floor, apparently returned to them. Starkad strode toward Hervor and helped her ease into the armor.

  “Shoulder acting up?”

  “They had me hanging by my arms.”

  “Me too.” Brought back visions of being tortured in the Otherworlds, in fact, though he had no desire to speak of it.

  “And the bitch bit me.”

  “Yeah. ”

  “That’s it?” Hervor demanded. “Yeah?” She jerked her mail down then stepped back to glare at him. “So we’re not even going to discuss her coming out of your room, face glowing like she’d had the best fuck of her immortal life?”

  He flinched. “Have I given you reason to mistrust me?”

  “No!” she snapped, like that alone was enough reason to be angry with him. She groaned. “No. But I hate this city and I tire of watching the people around me eviscerated by horrors most people cannot even imagine.”

  Starkad scratched his beard. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying this plan is mist-madness. Tanna tore through us once already, and then he didn’t know we were coming. Now he might be suspecting us.”

  “No. Not inside his own palace, not until it’s too late. Besides, he surprised us, too. None of us were prepared to face a creature of such speed or ferocity. Now we are.”

  Afrid snorted behind him. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We should be looking for a way out of Miklagard.”

  Starkad spun on her, stared hard until the other shieldmaiden looked away. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention, but I gave my oath. In blood. I do not break my vows.”

  “She’s just scared,” Vebiorg said. The varulf hadn’t bothered with armor. In fact, she wore a robe like Nikolaos’s, maybe for the ease of shedding it so she could shift. For all Starkad knew, the varulf could smell fear.

  And he didn’t blame them for being scared. None of them. But it was what it was. “Look, none of us knew what we were getting into when this started. But we’re here now, and the only way out is through.”

  Win was leaning against one of the columns, arms folded, staring at Starkad. “You have something to add, prince?”

  “Just that Tanna killed people we cared about, we loved. It’s true most of all for Baruch and myself, but true regardless. Honor demands we avenge them.”

  Hervor flinched. Maybe as scared as Afrid. Starkad knew neither of them were cravens. He wanted to tell Hervor they’d been through worse, but he wasn’t sure that was true. Of all the Otherworldly threats he’d overcome, none matched the speed, strength, and ferocity of these vampires.

  Arete seemed to materialize out of the shadows by a column. “It’s time. We’ll go by way of the undercity.”

  Starkad nodded. “Lead the way.”

  The tunnels beneath Miklagard must’ve stretched on for hundreds of miles, if not more. They seemed nigh to endless, in fact, though Arete seemed to know where she was bound. She kept a half step ahead of Starkad, guiding him, with the others behind. She didn’t have a torch—nor seemed to need much light—so he held one. Him and several others behind him.

  Hervor and Win were next in the line, the two of them muttering about what an abominable place Miklagard was. Much as Win’s blind faith in the Aesir irked Starkad, the prince had seemed almost broken by Nikolaos’s claims that Odin had been here not long before and limped away like a whipped hound.

  Nor was Starkad quite certain what to make of such a tale. The way the Patriarch told it lent credence to the story. Maybe that was how Odin had sent those cryptic warnings to Starkad about this place. If so, it would’ve been rather opportune had Odin bothered to explain in a hair more detail just what Starkad was walking into. Indeed, had the Ás king lured Starkad here directly in the hopes of reclaiming Mistilteinn for the North Realms?

  That much seemed quite likely.

  So, then, if he was to believe the Patriarch, Odin had come to Miklagard and barely survived. The man had angered the Patriarchs, but not enough that any of them launched a war against Odin’s followers. Odin, possibly reeling, had next guided Starkad here. Had made a nominal attempt to warn him about the vampires, but couldn’t or wasn’t willing to offer details.

  Starkad had to believe Odin wanted him to succeed in claiming the runeblade. So why hadn’t the Ás done more to ensure that happened? The man may not have been a god—not the way Win and Hervor thought—but his motivations were nigh as unfathomable as a true being of the Otherworlds.

  “Reckon this might even be worse than Pohjola.” Höfund said. The big man was the only one who seemed little unnerved by Vebiorg, so the two of them were talking together. “Can’t say as I’ve ever smelt worse than this, me.”

  “Imagine how it smells to a wolf.”

  “Huh. Worse than to the rest of us, I reckon.”

  Arete fell back beside him and leaned in close. “Your companions are colorful. Vibrant, even. But are they really your equal? Are they the kind you will be happy spending long years beside?”

  “Some of them.” Could Hervor hear Arete? The shieldmaiden seemed deep in her grumblings with Win. A small blessing, honestly. The last thing he needed now was her taking offense—justified offense—at Arete’s attempt to undermine her.

/>   “Truly?” Arete asked, as if genuinely shocked at his response. She pointed to a side tunnel. “We must pass through a section of the sewers, I’m afraid.” The vampire stepped up onto the wall, deftly avoiding walking through the muck.

  Starkad glowered. No one else in their party would be half so fortunate, of course. No, best to get it over with, though. He hopped down in the filth that splashed up on his shins before settling back down around his ankles.

  “Oh, Odin’s lumpy stones, Starkad!”

  He didn’t glance back at Hervor, not wanting her to see his grin. Sometimes her reactions alone made a hardship worthwhile. How strange, really, to have so many men swearing by the name of a man he’d met. Starkad remembered when Odin had been chosen as King of the Aesir, back before most of them had even heard of Idunn or Yggdrasil or imagined men could become immortal.

  How different his life might’ve been had he stayed among them. He’d given up immortality because of Vikar and grew to resent him for it. And now he was giving up a second chance at it for Hervor. He swore to himself he’d never resent her for that, though. He was making his own choices.

  Behind him, his companions sloshed through the dank tunnel. Even the banter had died down. Perhaps opening their mouths to talk while wading through shit stretched even their natures beyond the breaking points. Starkad did not mind the silence.

  It gave him time to think, though, which could prove dangerous. Hervor had made it clear she wanted him to give up his wanderings. Having tried—repeatedly—he knew himself well enough to know that wouldn’t take. Maybe Arete had spoken the truth in supposing that was less a curse and more his own nature being dissatisfied with what he’d gotten out of life since leaving the Aesir .

  But if so, that was a bitter draught and he’d prefer not to swallow it.

  He was making his own godsdamned choices. And if it so mattered to Hervor, he’d make another go at sticking in one place. Maybe they could make a home for themselves, even if he could never give her children.

  “We’re nearly there,” Arete said after a long stretch of silence. She stepped off the wall and onto another mostly dry surface, leading them through a tunnel. Eventually, she paused at a ladder on the side of the wall. “Tanna’s palace will have wards of its own. They prevent me from entering without his permission. But you, humans, will be unaffected.”

  “What about me?” Vebiorg asked.

  Arete sneered. “I doubt a Patriarch concerns himself with dogs.”

  Vebiorg cast a vicious smile back at the vampire, shoved her aside, and grabbed the ladder. She stopped, though, looking at the trapdoor. “Is this one going to be locked, too?”

  “Surely even a dog can break a lock.”

  “No, wait,” Baruch said. “Let me try picking it. Less noisy.”

  Arete chuckled. “A thief. How wonderful, dear Starkad. You truly do have an interesting team on your hands.”

  Starkad glared at her. She was not making this any easier.

  Baruch climbed the ladder, fiddled with the trapdoor, then eased it open. The Miklagardian slipped into a room above, then beckoned the others to follow.

  Vebiorg surged up the ladder before Starkad could even move. Despite himself, he was almost glad she was here. And on their side.

  He climbed up next. The room inside was not dissimilar to the one they’d entered Nikolaos’s palace from. A blood circle painted with runes ringed the trapdoor, and various crates lined the walls. A storeroom. And they could only assume that, like Nikolaos, Tanna would have his own guards just outside to deal with intruders.

  Hervor followed him up, and he grabbed her hand to help her crest the ridge. Win came next, and finally Höfund. Starkad looked over his crew, then down the hatch. Arete had already vanished into the darkness, perhaps intent to report back to Nikolaos. He’d made clear he couldn’t have this traced back to him, whatever doubt his actions might have cast upon him. She probably had orders not to stay too close.

  “All right,” he said. “We don’t know how many vampires may lair in here. So we need to go in quiet. If we’re discovered, we lose the element of surprise.”

  Afrid whimpered, mumbling something to herself. Starkad had no time to coddle her. Arete had provided her with a new spear. That had to be enough for her.

  “Let me go first, then,” Vebiorg said. “I’ve got the best senses and I’m good at being silent.”

  “Fine. Do it. Let’s go.”

  The varulf slipped over to the door, then eased it open. Then she disappeared down a dimly lit hall. Starkad stalked after her, keeping low, keeping his footfalls light. No guards after all. Maybe Tanna only worried about vampire intruders.

  The hallway let out into a large foyer broken up by twin winding staircases leading to a higher floor. The whole room was completely empty still.

  Vebiorg glanced back at Starkad.

  So which way would they find Tanna? Upstairs, probably. He pointed to the nearest of the staircases. The varulf stalked over to it and started up, Starkad a few steps behind her.

  A shadow dropped down from above, in the corner of his eye, like it had fallen from the balcony. He turned, only to see six vampires had leapt down into the foyer, landing amid his crew, more than half of them coming down in his blind spot.

  How the fuck had they known?

  Afrid ran and ducked behind the stairs. Damn it, he knew he shouldn’t have brought someone so young on this mission.

  Höfund, flailing with his great axe, charged straight for a vampire. The creature moved so fast it almost seemed a blur as it dodged behind him, then brought a warhammer crashing down on the half-jotunn’s back.

  Shit. Starkad didn’t have time to save them all.

  He leapt over the side of the banister, drawing his swords all in one motion and whipping them in a cross as he fell. His blades sunk into a vampire below him, drawing forth spurts of blood and sending the creature shrieking like the damned from the gates of Hel.

  “I’m sorry!” Afrid wailed. Starkad spun to see the shieldmaiden run toward one of the vampires. The creature jerked the shieldmaiden behind himself and advanced on Starkad. Over its shoulder, Starkad gaped at Afrid. “I just … just didn’t want to die!”

  One of the other vampires had Baruch pinned the opposite staircase. He screamed as it bit down on his throat. The vampire jerked its head back, ripping out Baruch’s jugular in the process and spraying a shower of blood across the marble floor.

  Hervor shrieked, sunk Tyrfing into a vampire up to the hilt. The creature writhed as the runeblade’s pale flames scorched it. She had it well in hand.

  Starkad had to see to this one. The creature lunged at him, a knife in each hand. He parried one, dodged the other and cut with his second sword. But the vampire had inhuman speed and much lighter weapons. They set about their dance, and it was all he could do to keep up. His swords gave him reach, but it amounted to little when the vampire didn’t fear minor wounds. Naught much seemed to faze it, in truth.

  More vampires were pouring into the foyer. This was all a fucking trap. This had all gone wrong. “Flee!” he shouted. “Back to the tunnels, flee!”

  At his words, Hervor jerked Tyrfing free of her foe, spun around and lopped its head off. Starkad didn’t even have time to marvel at her move, so pressed by the vampire. Instead, he gave ground willingly, retreating back toward the same hallway they’d come from.

  “I’m sorry,” Afrid shouted again, from somewhere beyond the stairs. Starkad had no time to think on her.

  An awful grunt escaped Höfund, followed by a crash to the floor, but Starkad couldn’t see him.

  Hervor raced to Starkad’s side, then past him, maybe helping one of the others. Starkad kept giving ground to the knife-wielder, until he came back to the hall. He needed just a slight chance to break off and run, but this vampire wasn’t giving—

  A wolf flew through the air, tackled the vampire, and bit down on its throat. Snarling, growling. Rending flesh. Vebiorg jerked away and dashed down th
e hall. Starkad needed no invitation to follow.

  Hervor and Win were already back in the cellar, engaged with human guards. Hervor cleaved into one and Win felled the other.

  “Jump!” Starkad bellowed. “The tunnels!”

  Vebiorg snapped at something, but he had no chance to see what. He raced to the trapdoor, dropped down, and slid to the edge. Then he dropped down into the darkness.

  20

  O din’s stones! Hervor dashed blindly down another tunnel, took the next bend, and took off running again, her feet squelching in Odin-knew-what.

  “Do you even know where you’re going?” Win shouted, a half step behind her.

  “No!”

  “Then how do you know we do not run in circles?”

  Hervor didn’t even bother to answer that. The vampires were much faster than humans. She needed to keep changing directions until she was certain they’d lost their pursuit. Naught else really mattered. If they did wind up going in a circle … they were probably all dead.

  She’d lost track of Vebiorg. Could only pray Starkad was back behind Win, following. Everything had turned to troll shit. Afrid … Hel take that bitch. Hervor had believed in her, liked her. And she’d betrayed them.

  Hervor’s chest hurt from sucking in heaving breath after breath. Made it hard to think clear. To understand why Stonekicker would do it. Fucking craven .

  Hervor’s foot skidded on sludge and she blundered into the tunnel wall.

  Win caught her, kept her from toppling over into the muck. “I don’t think this is the way back to Nikolaos’s estate.”

  Hervor didn’t fucking care, so long as they got away from Tanna’s palace.

  “This seems almost like we’ve wandered into an actual maze.”

  “I agree,” Starkad answered, trotting up behind them. “And I barely managed to find you. Without Arete or Vebiorg, we’re wandering blind down here.”

  Hervor spun on him. “They got Höfund!”

  “I know.”

  “This is on you, Starkad. You brought us here, and now one of our crew is in Tanna’s hands.”