Page 47 of Court of Treachery

It was their turn. The way was wide enough for three to pass abreast, so she filed in with Aedon and Erika, whilst Brand took up the rear, his wings taking a row by themselves. In silence, they tramped inside, led down the smooth way by Aedon’s dim faelights. The farther they descended, the more the stench grew with the heat, until Harper felt nauseous with that, as well. She was glad for an empty stomach for a change. She had barely been able to eat that morning through worry about what they were to encounter—and what they might find. She concentrated on Ragnar, seeing him in her mind.

Unexpectedly, Korrin halted, summoning Aedon and Harper. They pushed through the ranks of silent dwarves to find the way in front of them branching off into six different passages. “We are nearly upon Afnirheim’s lower levels,” Korrin murmured. “I need you to sense ahead, tell me precisely where the goblins are, as well as Ragnar and the dwarves.”

Aedon shook his head. “I’m afraid it is not so easy, König. We have nothing of the dwarves or the elves to trace them by.”

“Wait,” said Harper, struck by inspiration. “I have something of Ragnar’s.” She looked at Aedon. “You can trace him using it, yes?” she asked, then spoke into his mind. “Just like you traced me using my knife.”

He nodded. “Yes. What is it?”

She unshouldered her pack and rummaged through it, to the sound of the könig’s impatient tsking. “Here.” She passed Aedon the one thing she had of Ragnar’s—the tinychaturapiece he had given to her.

He smiled sadly, nodding. “This will be perfect. König, we can find precisely where Ragnar, and your kin, are. With them, I suspect we will find the goblins.” Aedon passed it back to Harper, much to her surprise. “You’ve done this before, with the Dragonheart. You know how.”

She swallowed. Did she? It had been different with the Dragonheart. Instinctive. Ragnar was another matter. Everyone looked at her, silent and expectant. She swallowed and closed her eyes.

Ragnar… Think of Ragnar.She held the wooden piece tightly between her hands, feeling the ridges and contours. She had watched Ragnar carve it. Watched his stiff hands shape it, like fat spread with a knife. He made it look easy, sitting there calmly while his hands worked.

Harper could smell the smoke of his pipe that always seemed to linger, but it was a pleasant, fragrant smoke. In her mind, she replayed him carving thechaturapiece, then stopping and looking up at her, smiling in the way he always did—warm, friendly, genuine, the skin around his eyes crinkling. She pulled toward it, holding every part of Ragnar she could recall. Slowly, the niggle built, just as it had with the Dragonheart.

“This way,” she whispered, pointing to the fourth passageway.

Korrin turned and led them farther into the mountain. If nothing else, the growing stench told them they were on the right track. That, and the faint sounds of shrieking and chattering that Harper had hoped never to hear again. Dwarves drew their weapons, most bearing an axe of some kind—some large, some small, some double-headed, some with short blades. Harper had never seen such an array of different axes. Some dwarves held staffs with long blades upon the end, and others gripped hammers. Despite being fully armoured, with clanking metal plates and weapons, the dwarves moved with surprisingstealth, using the goblin’s din as cover for their own movement. All had been warned to hold the element of surprise. Still, the order came too soon for Harper’s liking.

“Now!” thundered Korrin—and burst forth. The dwarves surged behind him, pushing Harper along in their midst. Aedon firmly grasped her hand and pulled her to one side.

She felt the magic flare in him, then added her strength, focusing upon coalescing the light into being. Aedon’s large faelight eclipsed her small, winking mote, but slowly, hers gathered strength, merging with his and soaring up to illuminate the cavern in blinding white. It took the dwarves a moment to adjust to the brightness, but they threw themselves back into battle with relish. The goblins’ shrieks soon became wails of pain as the light seared their eyes and dwarven weapons struck them down. Still, more swarmed from nowhere, jumping over the grated pits to fall upon the dwarves in great numbers. Brand and Erika, smiles on their faces, stood back to back in the middle of the fray, killing all who came within reach.

“Don’t stop focusing your magic!” Aedon said with gritted teeth, even as he pulled his blade. “Come. We have to find Ragnar!”

They leapt forward as the last of the dwarves spilled into the caves. Sheathing their weapons, they rushed to the pits, hauling up injured dwarves and carrying them through the passage, up to the thirl door, and out to safety.

Harper followed the tiny thread of Ragnar’s essence through the maelstrom, while Aedon danced around her, his blade a blur as he cut down goblins. She joined in as little as possible, smashing her blade against any who dared get too close. The goblins were small and quick, popping up from seemingly nowhere. Her blade squelched into the guts of one, slurping as she pulled it free, the body falling to the ground, lifeless. She bent over, vomiting.

“Harper, we don’t have time! Hurry!” Aedon said.

Brand and Erika fought their way closer until the four of them stood as a knot once more.

“Here! He’s here!” Erika’s triumphant shout emerged.

Harper rushed over to the pit with the overhang and saw Ragnar huddled at the bottom, staring up with wide eyes. He exclaimed at the sight of them, and Brand wrenched the grate aside. He leaned down to grab Ragnar’s hand and haul him out with ease. The dwarf crumpled onto the ground before them, his face blanching and twisted in pain. Brand swore and picked Ragnar up. He launched into the air and dove for the cave exit before landing, tucking his wings in, and running up the tunnel to pass Ragnar off. Erika, Aedon, and Harper helped two other dwarves out of the pit, sending them on their way before moving to the next one.

They were halfway across the cave when the entire mountain shook. At the far side of the cavern, Saradon emerged in the giant opening, wreathed in glowing, purple light. Magic flickered in his palms.

38

HARPER

Aedon swore, only to be drowned out by Erika’s screech of rage. Brand landed beside her, slamming into the ground, and bodily held her back to prevent her from leaping toward the elf. Everything around them ceased. Even goblins cowed before Saradon. Bedraggled, injured dwarves flinched away. Their battle-weary brethren gripped weapons tighter, but grave faces poorly masked their apprehension.

Harper stilled, captivated by Saradon, whose penetrating gaze swept the cave. Part of her felt fear, just as the rest of them did, but it was different for her.He is my kin. It felt strange, abhorrent. Shadows moved beside him. A figure emerged. And time stopped for Harper. Harper’s jaw slipped open, and her eyes widened. She knew that silhouette before he stepped into the light.

No.

The clean cut of his dark, fitted robes.

No, no, no.

The dark, disdainful frown.

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