o 132c9f47d7a19d14 (27 page)

influence of this place by getting rid of the spirals, to start with. Then

we’ll see what we can do to drive off the evil land-spirits and attract

some beneficial ones.”

Finna scowled at him and tossed her head with an angry

clearing of her throat. “You talk as if you might be a wizard. I

warn you, wizard, if you consider me an evil land-vaettir, I won’t be

driven out of my home.”

The other nisses rose up uneasily and gathered protectively

around their sister with a worried murmur.

“You can’t drive Finna out,” Eydis said. “She is necessary here,

you must realize.”

Thurid flapped one hand impatiently. “No, I don’t care about

her; she can stay and drown all the foolish idiots she possibly can,

since we’ll never have a shortage of fools, and those of us of superior

intelligence will be grateful to her. What I mean to change here is the

course of the magic that flows through this place. It’s all going

widdershins. We’ll bring back the lake. We’ll get rid of Sorkvir’s

influences. We’ll put pentacles over those spirals, as soon as it’s light

enough in the morning.”

The nisses gasped and twittered excitedly among themselves.

“One question,” Finna said in a firm, resounding voice. “Will you

make us beautiful again?”

“Yes, I dare say,” Thurid replied, his eyes dwelling with more

interest upon a huge, white stone defaced by a black spiral. “The nisses

are a part of the lake; once it is no longer degenerate, the nisses will be

their old selves again.”

“If we survive the night uncaptured,” Gotiskolker

interjected over one shoulder as a fresh burst of howling floated over

the swamp.

Velaug and Eydis exchanged a significant glance. Velaug said,

“We shall see to it that no one comes this far into the marsh. We have a

few of our old ways left.”

“Rest assured,” Eydis said with a stem glare in the direction of

the hunters, “you won’t be disturbed here. Come along, sisters, there’s

work for us to do.”

In a moment they were all four gone, gliding away with scarcely

a ripple and vanishing into the shadows of tules and reeds.

After a semblance of a camp was set up, Thurid drew circles

around them, hung amulets on the horses, scratched marks in the earth,

and mumbled until Gotiskolker could bear it no longer.

“Will you stop it, you charlatan?” he snapped. “I don’t need any

help from you. I saw what a big help you were to Fridmarr in the

dwarfs’ hall. I think I’d rather get into my own trouble, instead of

something you’ve invented.”

“Suit yourself,” Thurid retorted, “but I’m not a charlatan, and I

urge you not to forget it. How do you think we can purify the Pentacle

without my carefully cultivated powers?”

“What makes you think we can do it with them?” Gotiskolker

demanded. “We are by no means in a good position.”

“The nisses are going to help us,” Leifr said. “I think they like the

idea of being beautiful again. Especially Finna.” He chuckled ironically.

“It’s hard to believe she ever tempted anyone to his death.”

Gotiskolker shook his head and got up to pace back and

forth. “Their victims’ bones fill this swamp. Those nisses can’t be

trusted, once they get what they want.”

“You speak as if you know,” Thurid replied scornfully.

“What would a scurvy scavenger like you know about creatures like

these? I’ve read a great deal about nisses, and I assure you I know

exactly how to deal with them.”

When he had stationed himself to stand watch for his share of the

night, Leifr invented the pretext of going to check on the horses, who

were not very satisfied with their accommodations for the night. The

grass was sparse, and the swamp seemed alive with prowling Dokkalfar

and their dim lanterns; barking, baying, and yelping hounds; and the

shouts of Dokkalfar who seemed to be lost in the dark murk.

He found Gotiskolker propped against a stone, his face contorted

with pain, with his breath coming in gasps. He glared furiously at

Leifr’s approach and waved him away angrily with his hand.

“Are you all right?” Leifr asked, astonished and concerned.

“No, I’m not all right, you fool,” Gotiskolker snapped, raising his

head to glare again. “Now go away and stop bothering me. Can’t I die

in peace?”

“What is it, the eitur? Sorkvir said it was going to be a rather

unpleasant way to die. There must be something—”

“There’s not. Don’t worry, I’m sure there’s enough time to get

you back to your realm.” He blotted his forehead with a ragged edge of

his cloak. “Now are you satisfied?”

Leifr went back to his bed among the rocks after his turn as

guard and tried to compose himself for sleep. With the sounds that were

coining out of the swamp, sleep seemed an impossibility. He heard

screams for help, interspersed with the mournful howling of the hounds.

Once he heard Finna’s eerie laugh not far away, and something about it

made his scalp crawl. The carbuncle, he had discovered, was able to

treat him to a riveting assortment of Fridmarr’s memories—or

nightmares—if he permitted it to infiltrate his thoughts. The nisses

seemed friendly, but the carbuncle’s mysterious influence forbade him

from becoming too trusting.

In the morning, Thurid began sorting gleefully through his rune

sticks long before sunrise, like a large rat reorganizing its nest. Avoiding

him, Leifr went in search of Gotiskolker, whom he discovered looking

as ill as before, sitting on a rocky point overlooking the worst of the

swamp.

“About that carbuncle,” Leifr began, but Gotiskolker turned

toward him with a warning hiss.

“Not so loud,” he whispered. “You don’t know who could be

listening.”

Leifr lowered his voice. “I’ve figured out that sooner or later

the stone will be of no use to me. Fridmarr must have removed it

before he took the eitur. What I wonder about is what’s going to

happen when I reach the same point. The stone will go blank when it

reaches the end of its life with Fridmarr, will it not?”

“You won’t feel as if you’ve been there before, but neither will

you be completely alone,” Gotiskolker replied a shade impatiently.

“Thousands of years of Ljosalfar knowledge is available to you, if you

care to seek for it. You won’t be left entirely defenceless.”

“Cold comfort,” Leifr grumbled. “It never shows me anything

pleasant.”

“There might be worse horrors yet, beyond the point where

company with it,” Gotiskolker said.

Fridmarr parted

Leifr gazed around at the still, dark pools and clumps of

secretively whispering reeds and grasses. “The swamp seems quiet now.

I wonder what the nisses did with the Dokkalfar.”

“Misled and mired them,” Gotiskolker said, hobbling toward

the horses. “You heard their voices. Nisses are excellent mimics. They

call out in your friend’s voice, leading you into the deepest, stickiest

mires. I heard your own voice out there, Fridmarr, luring the Dokkalfar

to their destruction.”

Thurid looked up a moment from his rune sticks, odd

devices, and the random objects that assisted him in his spells. “I dare

say there are still quite a few Dokkalfar lurking about. I wouldn’t get

careless, if I were you.”

“But since you’re not him, you’ll be as careless as you please,”

Gotiskolker added. “What a fine target you make from the edge of the

willows over there!”

Glancing toward the willows in question, Leifr saw something

moving stealthily through their silvery shadows. Crouching quickly

behind a rock, he motioned to Thurid and Gotiskolker warningly. The

dark forms slipped into the water without a sound, their presence

betrayed only by a slight, rippling swell of the scummy water.

Suddenly, with a splash, a dark head parted the water almost at

Leifr’s feet, startling him more than he cared to admit, until he

recognized Eydis. She combed her lank locks out of her face with her

fingers as her sisters surfaced around her.

‘

“Your enemies,” Eydis reported, “are all put to rout.”

“At least, the ones who were able to get away,” Finna added with

her strange laugh. “It wasn’t as exciting as the old days, of course.”

“We are in your debt,” Leifr replied hastily, not liking her looks

any better in daylight than he had in the dim moonlight.

Like an oversized lizard, she hauled herself out of the marsh

deliberately and sat down on a rock where she could comfortably stare

at Leifr with her sinister, slanted eyes. “It’s not a good thing to be

indebted to a niss,” she said, casually wringing out a large, tattered

portion of her gown.

“As usual, your manners are bad, Finna.” Eydis said

disapprovingly as she seated herself nearby. “For us, it was a small

accomplishment. Breaking Sorkvir’s influence will be a much more

difficult task for them.”

Thurid thrust his rune sticks into his satchel and struck a haughty

pose with his staff in hand and his ragged cloak billowing importantly

around him. “No small task, indeed, my good lady, but if anyone should

ask you who did it, you may tell them it was Thurid of Dallir.”

Eydis inclined her head. “Whether you succeed remains to be

seen,” she cautioned.

“Who are your companions, wizard?” Finna inquired, darting

her slanted eyes sidewise at Leifr and smiling slyly.

Sensing the challenge in her tone, Leifr stepped forward to

confront her. “My name is Fridmarr Fridmundrsson, and you may tell

anyone who asks that I have returned.”

“Fridmarr Fridmundrsson!” The nisses all gasped and stared a

moment at one another in shock. Then they rose up in an enraged body

and fell upon Leifr with their fists, pounding and clawing at him and

screeching horrible invectives.

Fortunately for Leifr, they had no weapons and they were rather

awkward on dry land, due to the amphibious development of their feet

into something more like fins or flippers, rather than feet meant to be

walked upon. He rolled out of their grasp, after the initial shock of their

unexpected assault, and leaped to his feet.

“Get him! The traitor!” Finna snorted breathlessly.

“Wait! Let me explain!” Leifr protested.

“We should have let the Dokkalfar have him,” Velaug said in

disgust.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” Goa sighed. “The one man

who says he will rescue us and our lake is the same rogue who caused

our misfortune. Bitter irony!”

“He won’t escape from us a second time,” Eydis said.

Leifr raked his hair out of his eyes and composed his

rumpled clothing. Curse Fridmarr! Wherever he went, he left a trail of

woe and destruction.

“Give me a chance to speak for myself. I’m sorry about what

happened back then,” he began, but the nisses hissed and spat at him

furiously.

Gripping his staff, Thurid stepped forward. “Now listen to me,

you nisses. Fridmarr has suffered plenty for his crimes. He’s doing his

best to make retribution to everyone who was injured in any way.

He’s going to use Bodmarr’s sword to kill Sorkvir, if he can find the

grindstone to sharpen it on. We’re going to purify this Pentacle of

Sorkvir’s evil influences, whether we have your assistance and

gratitude or not. I should think that taking your own revenge upon him

now is a shortsighted mistake on your part. You might be wallowing

around in this muck forever, if you make him fail now.”

The nisses scowled at Leifr, whispering among themselves.

Finally the others pushed Goa forward to speak. Leifr faced her

hopefully, remembering that she had gotten in the fewest wallops of

any of the sisters.

“You betrayed us to Sorkvir,” she said. “It’s hard for us to forgive

your treachery. We showed you this place, our source of youth and

all our power, then you gave our secret to Sorkvir. How could you do

such a thing to friends?”

Leifr wiped his forehead, glancing at Thurid and Gotiskolker

for help. “It was against my will,” he said, an idea struggling to the

light in the dark welter of his racing mind. “It was a drug Sorkvir gave

me that robbed me of my own will. It was beyond my powers to resist.”

Gotiskolker gave him a startled, approving nod.

Eydis eyed him silently, while the other nisses whispered

excitedly. ‘The eitur,“ she said. ”Then you will die from it. I am sorry to