partnership where nobody’s the boss. And it is different. I’m not—”
“It belonged to an elf,” she smiled. “An evil elf. And you are a human. It feels insulted. Just my guess. But it seems more powerful than when I’ve seen it before. Be careful.”
I snarled, the mask almost too hot on my face. “ I killed Strife, remember? I killed him, and shoved my sword in his elfish gut,” I growled. “It should respect that, if nothing else. I’ve seen it murder dozens, but it must know I can fight well enough.”
Ittisana sighed. “I said you are a human. A brave one matters little to it, perhaps. And I also said evil, didn’t I? You lack that as well.” The dragon slithered in my palm, as if in agreement. “But it is yours until you die. It will have to accept that.”
“Perhaps it will get him killed then,” Thak rumbled. “Work with it, Ulrich.”
I nodded. “I will. But I’d rather use my own powers.”
“Remember,” Thak said from behind, “that you are leading us against a First Born and the dragon. The dragon is no less dangerous than Stheno. That artifact? It might be able to hurt something like they are, indeed. Especially if it is somehow even more powerful. I think it will be useful. Perhaps you should let it rule and you just let it do its thing? Besides, it covers that nasty Bone Fetter that mars your fair skin.”
I looked at my left hand. The gauntlet covered the Bone Fetter indeed, the magical shackle the gorgons and Euryale had used to shut us humans off from the magical weave. Shannon had dealt with the dragon, made a Dragon Pact with it, and it now controlled the fetters. But not me. We all had unique skills. Shannon could see what spells others gathered. She could see the dead, even before she died. Anja could open any lock. Albine knew when someone lied, and I? I could not be shackled. But Thak was right. The artifact was important. But to let it rule me?
No. “I’ll keep working with it.”
Thak let out an exasperated sigh. “Do. But it might be best if you let it fight for you. Just remember that.”
I saw darkness below and knew the great central gallery would be there. “What if it takes over and never lets me go?” I asked with a strained voice, truly afraid it might happen. I fought the urge to grasp the mask off my face. Iron Trial, indeed.
We reached the bottom floor, and I sent the fiery thing roaring across the wide, long arched hallway, lighting the ancient, colorful and masterful paintings in the ceiling, the cobwebbed stools, and the dead who hid in the shadows, standing guard. Ittisana nodded. “You have to be careful. Do not insult it. Don’t try to break it. Never try that. It will fight you. It might even try to control you. Dverg - made artifacts are all somewhat sentient, you see? But Thak is right as well. When the time is right, the battle worth fighting, you should let it rule you. Otherwise someone might be able to get it off you, if they were fast enough.”
Thak grunted. “I could. No fire can kill me, not even dragon fire.”
He was right. He was a jotun, a fire giant.
Soon we reached the portcullis, entered the guardhouse, and waited for a drawbridge and another portcullis to be lowered. I grasped the mask with difficulty, and pulled it off. It came off easily, the fire disappeared and I put it in my belt. I wiped the sweat from my face, tottered forward, my chest aching terribly. Damn Kiera. Ittisana put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it for support.
When the doors were open, and the moat could be crossed, we stepped out where the market had once spread across the harbor. A gentle wind was blowing from the Straits, ruffling the abandoned booths and stalls forlornly. Mar, Aldheim’s star was pale, a slab of reddish clouds covering half of it. We turned and took the Silent Way past the high walls of the Citadel of Glory. We passed the towers and fortifications of the ancient bastion of might, walked under the shadow of the walls that
“It belonged to an elf,” she smiled. “An evil elf. And you are a human. It feels insulted. Just my guess. But it seems more powerful than when I’ve seen it before. Be careful.”
I snarled, the mask almost too hot on my face. “ I killed Strife, remember? I killed him, and shoved my sword in his elfish gut,” I growled. “It should respect that, if nothing else. I’ve seen it murder dozens, but it must know I can fight well enough.”
Ittisana sighed. “I said you are a human. A brave one matters little to it, perhaps. And I also said evil, didn’t I? You lack that as well.” The dragon slithered in my palm, as if in agreement. “But it is yours until you die. It will have to accept that.”
“Perhaps it will get him killed then,” Thak rumbled. “Work with it, Ulrich.”
I nodded. “I will. But I’d rather use my own powers.”
“Remember,” Thak said from behind, “that you are leading us against a First Born and the dragon. The dragon is no less dangerous than Stheno. That artifact? It might be able to hurt something like they are, indeed. Especially if it is somehow even more powerful. I think it will be useful. Perhaps you should let it rule and you just let it do its thing? Besides, it covers that nasty Bone Fetter that mars your fair skin.”
I looked at my left hand. The gauntlet covered the Bone Fetter indeed, the magical shackle the gorgons and Euryale had used to shut us humans off from the magical weave. Shannon had dealt with the dragon, made a Dragon Pact with it, and it now controlled the fetters. But not me. We all had unique skills. Shannon could see what spells others gathered. She could see the dead, even before she died. Anja could open any lock. Albine knew when someone lied, and I? I could not be shackled. But Thak was right. The artifact was important. But to let it rule me?
No. “I’ll keep working with it.”
Thak let out an exasperated sigh. “Do. But it might be best if you let it fight for you. Just remember that.”
I saw darkness below and knew the great central gallery would be there. “What if it takes over and never lets me go?” I asked with a strained voice, truly afraid it might happen. I fought the urge to grasp the mask off my face. Iron Trial, indeed.
We reached the bottom floor, and I sent the fiery thing roaring across the wide, long arched hallway, lighting the ancient, colorful and masterful paintings in the ceiling, the cobwebbed stools, and the dead who hid in the shadows, standing guard. Ittisana nodded. “You have to be careful. Do not insult it. Don’t try to break it. Never try that. It will fight you. It might even try to control you. Dverg - made artifacts are all somewhat sentient, you see? But Thak is right as well. When the time is right, the battle worth fighting, you should let it rule you. Otherwise someone might be able to get it off you, if they were fast enough.”
Thak grunted. “I could. No fire can kill me, not even dragon fire.”
He was right. He was a jotun, a fire giant.
Soon we reached the portcullis, entered the guardhouse, and waited for a drawbridge and another portcullis to be lowered. I grasped the mask with difficulty, and pulled it off. It came off easily, the fire disappeared and I put it in my belt. I wiped the sweat from my face, tottered forward, my chest aching terribly. Damn Kiera. Ittisana put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it for support.
When the doors were open, and the moat could be crossed, we stepped out where the market had once spread across the harbor. A gentle wind was blowing from the Straits, ruffling the abandoned booths and stalls forlornly. Mar, Aldheim’s star was pale, a slab of reddish clouds covering half of it. We turned and took the Silent Way past the high walls of the Citadel of Glory. We passed the towers and fortifications of the ancient bastion of might, walked under the shadow of the walls that
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