SHUDDERS SPASMED through Jalna. Her bare back against the Skull was tormented by freezing cold. Her breath steamed frosty in the cold air. She heard the rustling behind her again and again tried to look and again gave up.
Nidhug had been studying a scroll. “Thank you for your patience, slave.” He indicated the scroll he held. “Many years have passed since I needed to probe a Hel-warrior’s mind. My memory needed refreshing.” He tossed the scroll onto the table. “But I am now ready to begin. Are you?” He laughed.
Jalna fought her chains.
Nidhug raised his arms and closed his eyes. He visualized the needed Bind-Rune, chanted soft Runic sounds mingled with other words of power, and willed the otherworldly vibrations of the War Skull of Hel to power a spell by which to probe distant minds.
Jalna gasped as she felt something new. It was as if icy fingers had suddenly touched her back. She remembered her earlier impression of snakes behind her. Slithering past her sides, into view came hazy tentacles, like ghostly serpents. They encircled her waist, her rib cage, her breasts, hips, thighs with their frigid coils. She screamed. “Stop them! What are they doing? Stop!”
Nidhug’s chanting grew louder. The energy flashes that sizzled upon the Skull’s surface lengthened in duration and increased in frequency. The pulsing of the purple light and the accompanying moaning rumble cycled faster. The vibrations thudding through Jalna’s body sickened her. She gagged and heaved but there was no recent food in her stomach to discharge.
She had felt no pain, only cold, from the touch of the ghostly tentacles thus far, but now they began mingling with her flesh. A tingling and burning whipped through her. As they disappeared beneath her skin, she felt them moving inside her body! She screamed again. “Make them stop!”
Nidhug maintained his concentration upon the spell.
* * *
Above the narrow forest trail the predawn sky glowed red-orange. Bloodsong’s eyes stung with need of sleep. She longed for a safe place to rest, but until Nidhug was destroyed, there were none.
The two had ridden in silence until Huld’s fatigue from working the healing spell passed, then the Witch began talking about the most interesting subject possible—herself.
“And so, when I told my parents my decision,” Huld continued, “my father told me to get out and never return. And all because I wanted to study Witchcraft with Norda Greycloak instead of marrying the neighbor’s son. My father is a soulless man, curse him. I believe most people are like that. Only a few of us truly have souls.”
Bloodsong yawned. “And so you left home and went to study Witchcraft with Norda Greycloak,” she prompted.
“Yes, and I never regretted it. Norda didn’t beat me. She was kind. Unlike father, Norda has a soul.”
“A fortunate coincidence, Norda and you both having souls. How long did you study with Norda?”
“Until the soldiers came.”
“Yes. But how long was that?”
“Three—” Huld hesitated, “years. I was at the stream,” she quickly went on, “when I heard horses approaching. I hurried back to the clearing. Soldiers were carrying Norda, bound in black spell-chains, out of the hut. There was nothing I could do.”
“Why not use your Witchcraft to stop them?”
“It was too late.”
“Too late?”
“So I hid and watched as she was thrown in a slave cage and driven away.”
“I wonder why Norda didn’t sense their approach and stop them with her Witchcraft?”
“Nidhug attacked her with his sorcery, I suppose. How else could he have captured so many other Witches and wizards, many more powerful than my Norda?”
“How long has Nidhug been capturing magic workers?”
“I’m surprised you have to ask. Everyone knows that it started about five years ago. I doubt that you could find a Witch or wizard anywhere now, except in isolated frontier dwellings, like my Norda.”
“Does anyone know why he’s doing it?”
“Norda didn’t. I certainly don’t. We never thought Nidhug would be interested in capturing a simple forest Witch like her.”
Bloodsong shook her head in puzzlement. In the six years since she had been in Hel’s realm, something had obviously caused Nidhug’s puzzling behavior—
Without warning, Bloodsong’s vision darkened. Pain shot through her. A throbbing ache spread outward from her wrists, as though she hung suspended by them. Her upper back felt as if pressed against ice. All feeling left her legs and she could not move them. A wave of dizziness washed over her. And suddenly she was somewhere else and someone else, a slave named Jalna—
* * *
Upon the Skull, Jalna’s vision darkened, then suddenly she was free of her pain and terror, riding through a forest upon a gray stallion. A woman with long blond hair rode by her side. The sky was glowing red-orange, though whether with sunrise or sunset she did not know. But then, suddenly, she did know. Sunrise was near. And her name was no longer Jalna. It was Freyadis Guthrun’s Daughter, the legendary rebel arena warrior known as Bloodsong. But she was a Hel-warrior now, intent upon King Nidhug’s destruction. She possessed Witch-powers from Hel, powers she hoped to keep secret.
Other thoughts cascaded through Jalna’s mind, too, memories of a man named Eirik, who had died screaming, an infant son whose tiny corpse had slowly decayed, tied to her as if nursing, a daughter named Guthrun held hostage with the Dead in Hel’s realm—
The other woman was speaking to her. She turned to face her, knew she was a young Witch named Huld, saw her frown, heard her curse. Huld drew back her hand. Jalna felt pain as Huld slapped Bloodsong and shouted an incantation.
Jalna’s consciousness was jerked back to the Skull.
Nidhug fell to his knees, cursing and holding his head in pain.
* * *
Huld slapped Bloodsong again.
Bloodsong reeled in her saddle. Her vision cleared. The pain left her wrists. Feeling and movement returned to her legs.
Huld slapped her once more, even harder.
“Enough, Witch! I am all right, now.”
“Freya’s Teats, Bloodsong!” Huld exclaimed. “Didn’t you have any barriers against sorcery erected in your mind? You are lucky I was here to stop it, or—”
“Erecting sorcerous barriers would reveal to Nidhug I have Witch-powers, and I want to keep them a secret from him as long as possible.”
“But if the sorcerer’s mental probe went deep enough, he may know that now, anyway. What do you remember? Did you feel his thoughts too? Perhaps we can use something you learned.”
“I seemed for a moment to become a slave woman named Jalna. She was in pain, chained.”
“Then he used another to receive your thoughts. That way, he was not in direct contact with you. That was a cunning precaution.”
Bloodsong cursed. “I have to assume that Nidhug now knows my identity at the very least. How much more do you suppose he learned?”
“The slave woman may hold your secrets, but I acted quickly to repel the probe. Nidhug may not have had time to absorb what she learned. That might not matter much, though. The slave is probably already telling him everything.”
“Not all slaves willingly obey. But few can long withstand Nidhug’s tortures.”
Huld shuddered. “I cannot imagine being tortured. Were you ever—”
“Many times.” Bloodsong’s face twisted with disgust.
“What did he do to you?”
“Pray you never find out.”
Huld shook her head. “The slave may know my name, too, from your thoughts.”
“At least we can be certain she learned no detailed plan. I don’t have one. That alone may confuse him and give us an advantage.”
“You have no plan?”
“What good have plans ever done Hel-warriors when Nidhug’s sorcery can probe their minds? So, I formulated no plan, other than to use my warrior’s instincts to survive until I reach him, that and keeping the Witch-powers Hel forced on me a secret for as long as possible.”
“Freya’s Teats, she has no plan.”
“Want to turn back, Witch?”
“We have an agreement. Don’t try to get rid of me.”
They rode in silence for a moment, then Huld shook her head. “No plan.” She glanced sideways at Bloodsong, saw a slight smile curve the Hel-warrior’s lips, and shook her head another time.