It took her a moment to realize she was not alone.
"He did tell the truth." Theron had been so still that he looked almost a statue, a monument to the kings of old. Fortunately, his attention was on the tankard of ale in his fist, not her display of weakness.
Unlike his men, he seemed unusually somber as he rested his massive forearms on the balcony. "I would have had no idea. No warning that this unseen enemy did have schemes to destroy me."
"They are widespread, your Majesty, and wily in their abilities to blend. There is no place they cannot infiltrate."
Theron's brows knitted furiously. "These walls have withstood the greatest of armies. These long years the city has never been breached. Never!" He punctuated the statement by pounding the balcony with his fist.
Something moved in the haze of billowing snow far below in the courtyard. A dark figure rode atop an equally shadowy steed that even at their vantage point appeared monstrously large. Horse and rider floated across the shining snow in a patch of moonlight before they were swallowed by shadow once more.
"I have no heard of such a thing outside of minstrels' tales," Theron said. "What dark sorcery has claimed such a noble soul to become such?"
"No one knows." Except me, but it is not my secret to tell. "He vanished from our company for some time. When he returned, he was as you see him now — a man of light and a specter of shadow in one body."
"Aye, but with whom could he have struck such a bargain to become such?"
By a rebel Aelon who thinks she is Death. "That is a question I feel none of us truly wants to know the answer to."
Theron contemplated for a moment in silence before shrugging his broad shoulders. "I care not where he gained such powers. In the end, it was he who did expose this wicked plot, and his aid did keep many more of my warriors from dying. I am in his debt, and yours, Shama. Whatever you ask of Theron, you shall have." His spirit seemed to revive with his decision, and he took a long swig of ale. "What shall you do next, brave Shama? From here where do you deem to go?"
She sighed before answering. "Marcellus means to raise an army and attack the akhkharu on their ground. He will cross the Barrens and enter Aceldama to break them and slay their king."
"The Forbidden City? By the freezing pits of Nifolheim — has the man gone beef-witted? Why, entire armies have entered and not returned."
She half smiled. "I had thought the same. But he is the only one who has a chance against the akhkharu king. If no one stops them, the whole world is at their mercy. "
Theron finished his ale in a single swallow. "All this skull splitting makes a man thirst!" He set down the chalice and snatched up the entire pitcher to drink in earnest.
Wiping his mustaches, he turned to her. "I shall accompany you on this quest, for I have become sick with boredom in these days of peace. My people shall prepare for war, so that when spring arrives my army shall be ready. Norland will not be excluded from such a battle."
He grew somber once more, as the wails of the women grieving the dead in the courtyard reached his ears. "Besides, I do fear all will be lost if our kingdoms cannot unite. 'Tis a time of darkness, and our foes be strange and terrible. But we are Norlanders. If there is a battle to fight, it is our will and our right to be at the fore of it."
THE SUN SHONE BRIGHTLY the next morning, as though to banish the darkness of the night before. Though Theron had slept but a few hours, he stomped around the fortress with childlike energy as he directed his warriors and gave instructions to his chieftains for the battle preparations.
The great dining hall was packed twice as full as the night before, for many were anxious to catch a glimpse of the now famous Marcellus and his Companions, who sat as guests of honor at the table of the king. After a quick breakfast — quick meaning they managed to push the food away after two hours or so — Theron stood with a raised chalice of mead.
"Let us show our thanks for our hallowed guests, who did brave treacherous paths and forbidding weather to come to our aid in a time of great peril for our kingdom!"
The hall erupted in cheers and roars, as tankards and chalices clashed together, and fists drummed the tables. Nyori rose with Marcellus and the others to acknowledge the cheering crowd.
Theron continued, in a more somber tone. "Now, my true companions, we do enter a time of darkness, like the days of old, when evil did wear flesh, and brave souls were called upon to battle it." His expression grew fierce. "That time does come again. Evil has found its way beyond the dark places, beyond the Shadow into our abode. We defeated it, but we do know the true form of the iceberg lies in the darkness of the water. We have seen just the tip, and it is treacherous. Now we are asked to confront this evil in its true form. What say you?"
Again the hall erupted, this time the roar of warriors bent on war and vengeance. Weapons waved in the air as the warriors chanted the Norland battle song:
A scuffle broke out between a few overenthusiastic revelers in the crowd. Theron roared and hurled his chalice at the nearest perpetrator. "Enough, you slack-witted goat herders! Wait until I finish, or you'll fly from my terrace!"
His glare dared anyone to move before he continued. "Norland shall prepare for battle. For truth, we know little of our foes, nor whether the battle shall turn for the yea or the nay. We might be destroyed, the might of Norland broken."
Once again he paused. Then he snatched up another chalice and raised it high.
"A battle for true warriors!"
The crowded hall erupted in roars and cheers until the timbers rattled and chips of mortar floated from the ceiling. Theron's roar carried above it all.
"Eat and drink well in celebration of this day, for we shall not again see the like in our lives. Eat and drink well, my good friends, for death and bloody glory calls our names!"
As the din continued and fights began anew, Nyori turned to Marcellus. She had to shout over the din. "These Norlanders are truly mad."
A small smile flickered across Marcellus' face.
"I know."
Chapter 45: Gile
Gile strode down a vast but largely neglected hallway. The carpet had more holes and rips than actual fabric, and cracks threaded the walls as if cast by a colossal spider. The ancient stone fortress had once been grand and majestic, a symbol of prosperity to the bygone empire that had created it. Ages of abandonment left it in a state of crumbling decay. The walls were split apart by thick vines; the spires blasted, the courtyards full of toppled monuments. But torches lit the dank halls, and the grounds were full of moving figures. The Malic Sect called it home for the moment.
Like Orabon and Gile, Killian served the High Lady. It was a surprise to discover that a Speaker dared to rebel against Alaric, but once again it only underscored the complexities of Masiki's schemes. And since the entire Malic Sect operated as their Speaker did, that meant all of the Malic was under Masiki's control.
Gile was anxious to learn of how well the seeds of confusion he had sown in Aceldama had sprouted. There were whispers of an attack on Marcellus by the creature Yanus, but whether he was dead or not was a matter of confusion. And Alaric was supposedly drawing the Sects to Aceldama to prepare for an assault by the humans, but Gile had heard of no such army gathering arms.