Valhellions, p.11
Valhellions, page 11
“Walk? We have to walk? Do you even know where we are?” Chesa asked.
“Of course I know where we are,” Esther said, pointing. “MA is about ten miles that way. Didn’t you see it on the way down?”
“Was it on the inside of my eyelids?” Chesa asked.
“No.”
“Then no, I did not see it on the way down.”
“How could you tell? Everything’s dark. I can barely see my hand in front of my face,” I said.
“There are certain beacons set out, in case we have to crash-land the Naglfr,” Tembo rumbled. “Though I did not see them. To be fair, I was not looking for them, so much as I was staring at the ground, and our imminent deaths.”
“Man, you guys would have hated Normandy. It was that, but with flak, and a hundred-pound ruck on your back.” Esther rubbed the small of her back. “At least this time no one’s shooting at us. Yet. Let’s go!”
Groaning, the rest of the team worked their way to their feet and started after Esther, before we lost her in the darkness.
“Boss,” I said, hurrying to catch up with the gray-haired whirlwind. “I think Runa’s lying.”
“No kidding,” Esther said. “This nonsense about us taking the sword and hiding it in Valhalla . . . it’s just delusional.”
“No, I mean, about more than that.” I told her what the volleyball had told me, about the untimely deaths, and the valkyries’ sudden flight. “Something happened up there that they weren’t expecting. It’s too bad you were still in flight. I thought you would have made it back to Mundane Actual by then.”
“Wait, it was already dark?” Esther asked. “You didn’t go in too early, like an idiot?”
“Sorry to disappoint, boss, but no. We waited just like we were supposed to. Even had time to explore a little bit. But once the edgelord showed up, it was all dodging tables and hiding in the shadows.”
“That’s . . . interesting.” Esther was silent for a dozen vigorous strides, then looked over at me. “They picked us up right away. Those two in the black armor. Swooped out of the clouds and detained us. We thought you’d already been picked up.”
“Unless time moves a lot differently on that mountain, we were still hunkered down, waiting for night to fall,” I said.
“That means we’re dealing with more than a single rogue valkyrie playing muse to a disgruntled outsider,” she said. “Chesa, did either of those valkyries look familiar?”
Chesa trotted to match our stride. “The tall-and-quiets?” she asked. “No, why would they?”
“They were in on it. Picked you up before things went bad in Valhalla, then held you until Runa came looking,” I said. “So maybe one of them was the same as what we met in Mickleville.”
“I don’t think so. But hard to say with those helms on,” she said.
“So we’re maybe looking at three, and if there are three, there’ll be more,” Esther said. “No time for a leisurely stroll. We need to get home. I want to talk to Clarence.”
“What does Clarence have to do with this?” I asked.
“He’s the one who killed the bearer of Totenschreck last time around,” Esther answered. Then she fell into a steady jog that, while it didn’t look fast, quickly left the rest of us in the dust.
Chesa groaned and looked at me. “What did you say to her!”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t Can we please run ten miles in the dark?,” I said. “You can’t blame me for this.”
“You have no concept of my capacity for blaming you for things, John,” Chesa said. Then we all started running, before we lost sight of Esther completely.
The last time I was in Clarence’s domain, it was to die. Repeatedly. This was right after I had first joined Knight Watch, while Chesa and I were still in training. Neither of us knew what to expect. What we got was stabbed in the gut each time we screwed up a sword form. But at least we also got to meet a friendly dragon named Kyle.
The entrance to Clarence’s domain is in one of the subbasements of Mundane Actual, tucked behind a rather average-looking door. After Clarence retired from the active team, his portal was moved out of the barrel-ceilinged great hall that serves as our central meeting place.
“Try to not get him too worked up,” Esther said, handing us each a damp burlap sack. “If he knows there’s trouble in the real world, he’s going to try to rejoin the team, and frankly our insurance won’t cover that.”
“We’re there to ask Clarence about a magical Nazi zombie sword,” I said. “How are we supposed to do that without making it seem like a big deal?”
“Well, of course you’ll have to tell Clarence,” she said. “It’s Kyle I don’t want you to upset. What did you think the bags were for?”
“To be honest, I’ve gotten used to you handing me inexplicably damp packages full of”—I glanced inside the bag—“what appear to be intestines.”
“Pig,” Esther said. “If he gets curious, just swing them around your head a couple times and give it a throw. And whatever you do, don’t get any on you.” She shuttled us toward the door. “He sometimes has trouble telling the difference between human in pig blood and just plain old pig. Kyle’s more of a bite first, ask questions later type.”
“And you’re not coming with us?” Chesa asked, holding the dripping mass of her sack at arm’s length.
“I need to get down to Reality Control, see if the Actuator can get a fix on what happened to that sword,” Esther said. “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to catch up with Clarence. Time moves funny down there.”
“Tell me about it,” Bethany said. “Last time I saw the old guy, he was still talking like bell bottoms were a thing.”
“They’re not?” Matthew asked, clearly distressed.
“Enough chatter,” Esther said. “In you go!” And she pushed us bodily through the portal, barely waiting for my boots to clear the threshold before slamming the door shut.
We were surrounded by darkness. This is always how it is, when entering domains—magical places unique for each member of Knight Watch that supposedly reflect our mythic identities. We went there to recharge our powers after a mission, or to detox following a long exposure to the mundane world. Mine was a cabin in the very dark woods—a warm, cozy place that felt like the home I never knew I missed. Chesa’s somehow involved shirtless elf princes and treetop palaces, while Tembo lived on a grass-swept plain, haunted by elephant spirits and the promise of death. Clarence’s was a little more typically fantastic. Frankly, he lived in the kind of place I thought I would get, with a majestic castle surrounded by primeval woods and populated by invisible servants. It was also under constant threat of being destroyed by Kyle, the dragon. So there were trade-offs, I suppose.
The darkness passed, and we found ourselves on a forest path. Every domain had a pathway in, an exit out, and a hearth that served as the center of the mystical world, and this softly lit trail winding its way through an ancient forest was the pathway into Clarence’s mythic identity. Our clothes changed slightly as well, bringing them more in line with Clarence’s vision of the knightly fantasy. Matthew looked like a slightly drunk monk, tonsure and all, while Tembo squinted out from under a peaked wizard’s cap and swooshing blue robes. Gregory and I stayed mostly the same, but Bethany and Chesa transformed into maidens, with velvet overdresses and light-colored tunics. Even as a maiden, Bethany displayed more knives across waist, thigh, and sleeve than an overstocked butcher’s block.
“What’s the problem with this Kyle person?” Gregory asked. “Is he some kind of cannibal?”
“Kyle’s a dragon,” I said. “A real sweetie. Nothing to worry about.”
“So little to worry about that we’ve been given pig guts to take care of it.”
“Yeah, well. Living the dream.”
“This is sort of disappointing,” Chesa said, looking down at her dress. “How am I supposed to fight in this?”
“You look nice,” I said.
“Now it’s downright horrifying,” she answered. “I can’t go on like this! I’m taking it off.”
“Even better,” Gregory said with a smile. Chesa punched him, but a great deal lighter than she would have punched me if I said something like that. By the time we got to the edge of the forest, they were joking and laughing and having a grand old time.
The bastards.
Fortunately, I was spared the misery of their conversation by the appearance of Clarence’s castle. It was less grand than I remembered, though maybe in retirement Clarence had settled into a smaller space, with fewer crenellations to clean and hallways to dust. Besides, he didn’t need the training grounds anymore.
The castle proper sat on a hill at the head of a little valley, flanked by a river on one side and a precipitous cliff on the other. Concentric rings of stone walls led to the top of the hill, where a single tower rose into a sky the color of sapphires. We followed the long trail down to the castle. There was a small village on the banks of the river, but it looked empty and dark, though a few columns of woodsmoke seemed to indicate some form of habitation. We reached the main gate of the castle, a massive twenty-foot-tall double door, bound in iron and thick enough to keep out a dragon. I kept one eye to the skies the whole time, but there was no sign of Clarence’s scaly companion.
“So what do we do? Knock?” Gregory asked.
“Worth a try,” I said. I pounded on the door with the pommel of my sword, but that only produced a dull thud.
“I could probably scale this,” Bethany said.
“Let’s not go breaking into someone else’s fantasy world,” I said. “You never know what you’re going to find. I’d rather not stumble across the old guy in the bath.”
“Hey,” Chesa said. “There’s a pull-rope over here.”
“Seems pretty obvious,” Bethany said. She grabbed the rope and, leaving her feet, gave it a mighty pull.
At first it was just one church bell, ringing in steady rhythm, but then another joined it from the far end of the castle, and then another, and another. Soon the whole castle shook with the sound of hundreds of bells, gonging and tolling, pealing and re-pealing, until the air seemed to vibrate with the sound of their song. We stood at the gate with our hands over our ears until they slowly, one by one, fell silent. My whole skeleton hummed with the aftershock. We waited.
And waited.
For a long time.
“I’m starting to worry,” Chesa said.
“This is a little strange,” I said too loudly. I had been the last to get my hands over my ears, and the ringing sound in my skull was like a small blacksmith had taken up residence between my ears. “Maybe Bee should go in after all?”
“There you are! I thought I heard someone messing about!” Clarence shouted. He popped over the top of the wall, his head wreathed in a wild mane of white hair. “Whatever are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, Sir Clarence,” I said. “We have some questions about an old mission.”
“Well, I’ve certainly got the old part covered,” he said with a laugh. His face fell as he saw what we were all carrying in our hands. “My gods, what on earth are those?”
I lifted my bag. “We brought Kyle some treats.”
“Well, you better get rid of them. He’s off meat. Got himself a cat, and now we all have to eat vegetables and bits of moss. It’s bloody awful,” Clarence said. “Come on inside! Kyle will be thrilled to see you!”
He disappeared behind the wall. A few minutes later the gate creaked open.
“A dragon who’s gone off meat?” Gregory mused. “What has the world come to?”
“I’m more worried about the cat,” I said, tossing my bag by the side of the road. The others followed suit, and then we went inside.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Clarence led us through the courtyard and into the great hall at the foot of the central tower. The space was only dimly lit by smoldering coals in the fireplace at the end of the hall, but as Clarence entered, a series of torches along the walls came to life. A table ran the length of the room, with benches and a set of more comfortable looking chairs nearest the hearth, along with a handful of rugs on the floor and tapestries on the walls. The tapestries appeared to depict scenes from Clarence’s days in Knight Watch. At least, that was my assumption. I don’t remember a lot of fire-breathing helicopters in the Bayeux Tapestry. There was food on the table, as well, and glasses of wine, enough for all of us. That’s how it was last time I was here, as well. Meals appearing in empty rooms whenever they were needed. I didn’t even realize I was hungry until the smell of freshly baked bread and thick gravy filled my nose. I made for the table.
That’s when I saw that what I had mistaken for coals were actually cinders curling out of the nostrils of Clarence’s tame dragon, Kyle.
Kyle lay curled in the fireplace, with his scaly butt sticking out into the room, and his back pressed hard against the mantel. His jaws rested primly on paws the size of heater shields, and with each deep, snoring breath, a plume of flame licked across the stone floor. In the crook of Kyle’s neck nestled a white puffball of fur, no bigger than my head, snoring in time with the rise and fall of the dragon’s chest.
“Oh, it’s a kitty!” Chesa squealed. “I wanna hug it!”
Both Kyle and the puffball snapped their eyes open at Chesa’s approach. A long cloud of scalding hot smoke rolled out of Kyle’s nostrils, driving Chesa back. Clarence snorted.
“My advice is you let the cat come to you. Or hope it ignores you,” he said. “Claws like fish hooks, that one has. I’ve taken to wearing my chain mail again. Bloody inconvenient.”
“Commissar Snowflake loves you, Clarence,” Kyle rumbled. “You feed him.”
“Yes, well, the commissar has a strange way of showing affection.” The old knight sat down in one of the comfortable chairs near the hearth, snatched up a goblet of wine, and leaned back, with his feet on the table. “So. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“We’re having trouble with a Nazi zombie sword,” I said, settling into my own chair. The rest of the team took seats. “Esther said you were involved in beating it last time around.”
“And which Nazi zombie sword is this?” Clarence asked.
“There was more than one?” I asked. Without thinking, I shoveled some of the stuff on my plate onto a slice of bread and shoved it in my mouth. It was . . . highly textured. And inedible. I opened my mouth and let it dribble back onto the plate. When I looked up, Clarence caught my eye and smiled uncomfortably.
“Mostly moss when I’m not around,” he said under his breath. “Can’t get the medieval spirits to quite understand the idea behind a vegetarian diet. They try, but . . .” He pushed food-shaped lumps around his plate with disappointment. “They are rarely successful.”
“We were talking about Nazi zombie swords,” Chesa prompted. “You said there was more than one of them?”
“Sure. They had a whole division dedicated to mythic inquiry. A lot of it fell to Nik’s team to handle, but we got the odd resurrected giant or soul-bomb tossed our way. There was a whole operation to bind the ghost of Joan of Arc and crown her Queen of Vichy France. Went about as well as you might expect.” He took a long drink of wine, then fished an apple out of the bowl in front of him and peered at it nervously. He took a slow bite, chewing carefully until he was sure it was just an apple. Then he smiled and turned his attention back to us. “So what are we talking about here?”
“The Totenschreck,” Tembo said.
“Ah, the valkyries. Always a good time when the valkyries are around. Runa still in charge up there?” he asked. Tembo nodded, and Clarence continued, crunching happily into his apple. “A good one, Runa Hellesdottir. I know she and Esther don’t get along, but I wouldn’t trade that month in the Hebrides for the world. But the Totenschreck was a nasty business. One of the Kraut scientists found a way to harness the power of Freya’s tears, forged it into a blade, and just started wreaking havoc in the Ardennes.”
“What exactly does it do? We’ve seen it in action, or at least a facsimile,” Gregory said. “It killed with a touch.”
“Worse than that,” Clarence said. “I mean, you’re right, it doesn’t take more than a slice to lay a soldier low. We buried most of a company the first time we met that damnable blade. But the worst part came in the morning.” Another bite of the apple, and Clarence stared off into the middle distance, lost in thought. “Those bodies came clawing back up out of their graves, biting and shooting and mean as a hellcat. No offense.” This last part was to Commissar Snowflake, who was now watching our conversation with eerie yellow eyes. “Every day we had to kill them again, and every morning they came back. And all the while, the Totenschreck kept adding to their number. Didn’t stop until we killed the bearer, and separated the sword from the Tears.”
“Why didn’t you just burn the bodies? Or put them in steel boxes?” Bethany asked.
“Because this was more than just a cheap zombie movie. These things were mythic. Their actual bodies didn’t really matter. Every time they died, their souls went up to Folksvangr to wait. And every morning, the Totenschreck brought them back down. Burning the bodies just meant the Nazis could summon them somewhere else, hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away. Wherever the sword was, that’s where they showed up.” Clarence threw his apple into the fire, apparently forgetting that Kyle occupied the hearth. The seedy core bounced off Kyle’s forehead and tumbled to the ground. Snowflake rose from her nest and went to sniff at the apple, mewing quietly. “They’re drawn to it. Like flies to meat.”
“You said the souls went to folks winger? I think you mean Valhalla,” I said.
“What? No, lad. Folksvangr. The field of the people. Valhalla is only where half the honored dead go. The other half belong to Freya, and end up in Folksvangr. Read a book.”
“So killing the guy who carried the sword ended it? The zombies all went back to being dead?” Gregory asked.
