Page 24 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

“Stop!” He needed to break the draugar’s trance. His gaze touched each gaunt face, recognizing no one until the last man. Turning, he stepped in close to the creature he met helping Bernard Marchand and Freyja’s young assistant, Alva, in Washington, D.C. The draugar had been held in bondage, told to destroy them, but in the end, joining together had broken the spell holding them captive.

“Banayl! You know me—we worked together in Washington when you were freed. Stop whatever you are doing to him!” He caught the slight twitch in the draugr’s expression, but nothing else happened.

Shalendra raced into the room and pushed between Banayl and the draugr, who was standing to his right. “Castien!” Cyran saw her intent but wasn’t fast enough to stop her as she grabbed the dwarf’s arm.

She stared at his gray face in horror, then glared at the draugar. “Shame on all of you! Release him at once. My father gave your friends a place to live and train, and this is how he is repaid? Do I need to summon Alva?”

At the Huldra’s name, ten pairs of eyes snapped open, and they stared down at her. The draugr beside Banayl inched his arm down, the icy-blue glow fading from his fingers. The creature’s gaze jerked to Cyran, then returned his unnerving stare to Shalendra.

“You remind me of someone. Who are you, and how can you interfere in our magic?” The draugr's airy voice grated on Cyran's nerves as if the creature smoked too many cigarettes while alive.

Shalendra frowned. “I did not interfere. I just demanded that you stop hurting him. Castien has done nothing to you. We were sent here by Freyja.” Cyran stilled when a white light sparked deep in the creature’s black eyes.

“Your name?” the draugr asked.

Shalendra squared her shoulders, and Cyran could not help but admire the slight rise of her chin as she returned the creature’s black stare. “Yours first.”

The draugr’s lips twitched, but he answered her demand. “In life, I was called Daqar.”

“Thank you. I am Shalendra Elasalor, and the dwarf you tried to kill is my friend, Castien Bloodminer. I want you to reverse the spell and heal him now.”

Cyran laid a hand on Shalendra’s arm, slightly squeezing it. They were not in the position to make requests, much less demands. They needed to tread carefully with the draugar. He was grateful, however, that a snarling group of werewolves were not breathing down their necks, too, since most of the groups sent out by Alva had equal numbers of both creatures.

Banayl stepped forward to stand beside Daqar, his gaze on Cyran. “I remember you, but why are you here?”

Human qualities morphed back onto the faces of the draugar. Banayl’s hawklike features and blond hair reminded Cyran of the Vikings from long ago. He raised one brow. “Where’shereexactly?”

“We are near Buchenwald—under Grosser Ettersburg, to be exact.”

Cyran scowled, not liking their location at all. It was too close to where he and the twins had been during the war. Buchwald was where he had discovered his stepfather trying to steal prisoners for experimentation. Thank the gods, he had stopped him before he succeeded.

“So, Freyja did send us through a portal. Why are you here? I don’t remember hearing of draugar joining in on the fight between the Allies and Axis—the latter being Germany and those countries fighting with them.”

Banayl shrugged. “That’s because we were not there. We were released from our tombs after the Midgardian war was over. The rest of our group was here, though. I believe Himmler created them—the werewolves.”

Cyran nodded. “Before Lamruil became co-regent of Alfheimr, he infiltrated the German lines and worked under Himmler to deflect and stop the experiments. Even with magic and an incredible talent for spying, he could not discover the location of the document containing the Dark Fae’s spell, and Himmler succeeded in using it to create the Ironclaws. Lamruil still hasn’t forgiven himself. Knowing him, he never will—at least, not until he makes it right for the brave men caught in the Dark Fae’s trap.”

“You have werewolves here?” Shalendra took a tentative step forward. “Where are they?”

Banayl and Daqar turned their unnerving gazes on her, but she held her ground, and Cyran felt another quick stab of pride. She may be young, but she had a backbone. Her parents would be so proud of her. That led to another thought. Why wouldn’t Freyja let her go home, if only for a short visit, to see her parents and let them know she was all right? It was definitely a question to be asked.

“The group is out scouting the area to pick up any magical traces left behind,” Daqar answered.

Shalendra’s gaze narrowed as she glanced between the two. “Now that you aren't glowing and a bit less frightening, you two resemble one another. Are you related?”

One side of Banayl’s generous mouth rose. “You are observant, young elf. Yes, Daqar is my cousin by blood, my brother by choice, and my leader by right—until Himra returns, if he does. He is with a few of the werewolves. We have been waiting for them to return from a reconnaissance mission, but they are late…very late. When not channeling power, we almost return to how we were in life…almost. Unfortunately, we are dead, so some things will never be as they were.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you become a draugar? My father told me a person is cursed. Is that correct?”

“In a way,” Banayl explained. “Some believe we are all evil men who were nothing more than murderers, thieves, or worse. While the original draugr fit that description, few of us do now. I can speak only for myself, but I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, trying to aid someone who turned out to be quite mad—mentally wrong. I got in the way of the god controlling him, and here I am.”

“Curses always have countercurses. Have you tried to learn what will reverse this one?”

Cyran glanced sideways at her, wondering where she was going with her questions. Since their appearance in the battle with Bernard and Alva, many people have tried to reverse the curse, to no avail. Why didn't she know that?

“Many have tried and failed.” Daqar’s green gaze hardened, reminding Cyran of a many-faceted emerald. “Why have you no knowledge of what your people have tried, she-elf?”

Shalendra’s slender eyebrow rose. “While Iaman elf and a female. I have a name, so please call me Shalendra. You wouldn’t like being called just draugr, would you?”

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