Page 30 of Court of Treachery

They were dressed much like Ragnar, though their clothes were far less ragged and patched. Some were clad in the same garb as Halvar, marking themselves as Korrin’s army. Many sported tattoos upon their fingers and foreheads, just like Ragnar and Korrin, with similar patterns and designs stretching down their necks, up their sleeves, and out of sight. They marched through the streets with double-headed axes strapped to their backs and single-headed axes or maces to either side of their waists.

Halvar led them through a bustling underground market, where Harper was surprised to see men and elves trading alongside dwarves, hawking wares at the top of their voices. The cacophony echoed around the space as the companions hurried through, the scent of spices and foods wafting around them. They soon stood before the grand doors of the königshalle once more. Self-conscious, Harper smoothed down her still soggy shirt and tugged her cloak around herself to conceal it.

The warm hall was full of feasting and conversation as the dwarves of his court sat at the several trestle tables and breakfasted at leisure. In the corner, a rowdy bunch of dwarves howled a bawdy drinking song to the merriment of their kin, the words incomprehensible to Harper. They followed the jarl through the heart of the hall—the unusual mix of their company garnering the interest of all those dining—to the king sitting upon his stone throne at the far end who idly picked foods from a plate on a table next to him.

“König.” Aedon greeted Korrin with a clenched fist to his breast and a bow.

“Elf Felrian and your companions, I bid thee welcome.” Korrin nodded.

“Call me Aedon, if you please, König. I no longer represent House Felrian.”

“Very well, Elf Aedon. I have thought long and hard this night past of Ragnar’s predicament. As much as I am loathe to enter into such a foolish venture, I cannot deny that I owe him by blood.”

“You will save him, König?” Aedon asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“Perhaps,” Korrin corrected. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, so the throng of people filling the hall could not hear him. “Afnirheim, as you may be aware, has fallen silent. No trade enters or leaves. No scouts. Nothing. It is as if they all vanished upon the road. I have no doubt the goblins are to blame. They breed worse than rodents and, once in a while, must be put back into their place. If they have grown so bold as to take my roads, I shall show them where they belong. Their domain is to the east of Afnirheim. Though they may dare to trespass in my territory, they would not dare to remain. If my cousin is still to be found alive, it will be there, in their stronghold. It is not unheard of that they capture dwarfs for their cruel sports.” His lips curled in distaste.

“I will send you forth with Jarl Halvar and his scouts to discover the truth of what bars the way to Afnirheim, and there we may find some trace clue of my cousin’s fate.”

An ember of fear burned into life in Harper’s belly. Korrin would send them to find Ragnar—the very breath after declaring none who ventured to Afnirheim returned?

“Perhaps you may discover my cousin’s fate along the way, but I will not ask my dwarves to put themselves in danger for this mission.” Korrin glared at them under his bushy eyebrows, as if daring them to disagree.

Aedon bowed again respectfully. “I would be glad of the chance to discover my friend’s fate. He is a dear companion to us all.”

Korrin harrumphed, as if he could not believe it. “You will leave after midday meal. You may take what you need from our stores in preparation. Our roads are the finest, but they are long and hard, and my people shall not wait for you.”

Harper held in a groan at the thought of having to walk even farther, but she knew there was no choice. They had to follow Halvar’s scouts, for it was their only chance to find Ragnar before the worst happened. If it had not already.

26

HARPER

Halvar led them to the armoury to tend to their weapons and clothing. Harper had never seen so much metal in one place before, and she gawked at the cavernous space filled with different levels, from forges on the bottom, to tooling and crafters in the middle, to stores of finished armour at the very top. The space was kept to a temperate warmth by the heat of the forges, where molten metal ran white hot.

“Take anything you need, by gift of the könig,” Halvar instructed them, then eyed Brand’s bulk. “We don’t have anything to fit you, I’m afraid.”

Brand shrugged. “It’s no matter. My weapons and armour are suitable.”

Halvar looked over Brand’s worn leathers as if he would disagree, but said nothing to him, instead, turning to the rest of them. “We travel fast, so take only what you are sure you will be able to carry. Our light mails and leathers are over there. Weapons over here.” He gestured in one and then another direction. “I shall wait by the entrance. Be swift, for we must sup before we leave.” He pursed his lips, as if somewhat annoyed that he had to mind them rather than attend to his usual duties.

“Thank you, Jarl,” Brand said, then made his way over to the racks of armour and weapons to admire the craftsmanship. He let out a low whistle as he fingered their chainmail shirts. “Come, look at these. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

Harper followed the rest over. She picked up a small mail shirt, immediately surprised at how small and fine the links were and how light the garment was. “Surely this won’t protect anyone. It’s so fine, you could stab straight through it.”

To her surprise, Brand guffawed, his laugh echoing around the space. “You may think it, but I would trust my life to dwarven armour. I only wish they could make something large enough to fit me. I wager this is the finest mail you’ll see anywhere this side of the Great Sea.”

Harper looked back to the gleaming silver metal. It seemed impossible, but she knew Brand would not jest about such things. She unclasped her cloak and slipped the shirt on over hers to check for sizing. It was loose and fell to halfway down her thighs.

“That looks a decent fit,” said Aedon.

Brand, however, cocked his head, narrowing his eyes as he looked her up and down. “It’s light, but are you sure you’ll be able to carry its weight for days there and back?”

Harper nodded, not wanting to seem weak, though she was not entirely sure she could manage it. She would need to if they were to encounter goblins again. A shudder chased down her spine at the thought. As casually as she could, she returned the mail vest to the racks and found a smaller, shorter one that was half the weight.

Once they had all chosen some small pieces of armour to supplement their protections, they wandered through the weapons, but nothing did they take, save some arrows to top up Aedon’s small quiver, which only had four left. The arrows the dwarves made were too short for his long reach, but withnothing better, he would manage. A bell tolled in the distance, the peals booming through the rock.

“Lunch time,” Brand groaned in appreciation, his grumbling stomach choosing that moment to make itself known audibly. Harper looked at him in surprise. Had it already been so long since breakfast?

---