The hounds did, in fact, lead the group farther around the mountain, sniffing eagerly as they blazed a path through stretches of grasses, trees, and rocks. The going got tougher and the cart, valuable as it was, became more a burden than a boon. Otto considered leaving it when it nearly overturned as they attempted to navigate through an uneven patch of granite, but it still contained valuable supplies, and their days would be numbered without it.
They turned a bend after the granite and, past a copse of spindly fir trees, the mountain crags gave way to the gigantic mouth of a cave. The hounds yapped, eagerly attentive, and everyone else was very quiet for a minute as they made their way to it. There was no doubt that this was Ursa Magnus's cave.
"How do we know if he's inside the cave, or not?" Viggo asked, breaking the silence. "If we enter, and then he comes back…"
"The hounds were blessed to guide us," Otto said. "And they're jumping to get into the cave. If Ursa were outside of it, they'd lead us elsewhere."
Kennet nodded in agreement.
"Ursa's attack on Thunderhill came at night," said Lukas. "He likely rests during the brightest part of the day, crepuscular like his smaller cousins, or else is nocturnal like many of Thea's children."
It was early in the afternoon, still many hours from twilight. If Ursa was resting, they could use the advantage of surprise. If they caught him in his den already awake, or worse, as he was exiting the cave, that would end poorly. Otto figured it couldn't be too far inside the mountain if Ursa came back out during the night. And the monster seeking such shelter during the day hopefully meant he was still somewhat cowed from his injuries. Their best chance was to enter the cave now, without further delay, and see this through. The prospect was a cold, fearful one, but Otto was adamant.
"Leave the cart out here," Otto said. He dumped his bedroll onto it, then his sack of coins. Each was one less thing to weigh him down when they went inside. There were no living people for many miles and wild animals wouldn't eat gold and silver. "Elov and Cori, stay with me. The rest of you, prepare torches for yourselves." With branches from the nearby firs, they could fashion something rudimentary, if not ideal.
Otto prayed to Orvar that Ursa would still be in the depths of sleep when they arrived. Without Ursa sleeping, they would have no element of surprise, and without the element of surprise, they were just nine warriors and two mages against one of the greatest monsters in all of Tegland.
Few they might be, but they were some of Thunderhill's finest, Otto firmly reminded himself. Their time together on the trail and, more importantly, through battle, had solidified his confidence in Lukas, Britta, and even Rolf. But his growing affection for Lukas came with an equal fear, as the prospect of losing him—not sometime in the future, but in bloodshed today—was a barbed thorn in his side. The memory of Rasmus's cooling body in Otto's arms, the emptiness of his heart like a bottomless pit, feeling as though he was falling forever into the void even after he stood again, moved again, came unbidden but unavoidable from his memory.
Grimly, Otto steadied himself with the thought that if Lukas died, chances were he would as well. Lukas was a bit faster on his feet than Otto was, and the more of them who fell, the more likely it was that Ursa would wipe them all out. At least if Otto and Lukas died here together, they'd meet again in the afterlife as brave, if foolish, warriors. And here on the precipice of battle, Otto could no longer outrun the shadow of that looming fear that this quest was truly daunting to the point of foolish. It was a doubt he'd long kept at bay, finally creeping deep into his skull with its poisonous tendrils.
But surrendering to doubts on the eve of battle was the stuff of cowards. This was their chance, and only bravery and fighting with every ounce of their strength and will could see them through it. It was not just Otto's own fate, and the fate of Lukas and the rest of his companions that lay in the balance. Justice for his maimed father, glory for his family, and the life of Thunderhill itself—that was what they were fighting for. Otto fixated on this hope for life, the resolve that his life was just one of many that mattered. He would not slouch from this duty. As the warriors lit their torches and finished donning their armor, Otto set aside his fears and lit a fire in his heart that would carry him into the darkness ahead.
*~*~*
Elov and Cori led the way into the cave with the hounds beside them, each sorcerer with a palm-sized stone held before them, casting shadows onto the craggy rocks. The stone floor was uneven and gravelly, with fewer piles of rocks as they passed through the wide entrance and into the darkness beyond. Otto stepped carefully, holding his own torch high, as did the other warriors. The light was weak and flickering, but they had to all be ready if Elov and Cori needed to drop their stones for new magic.
A foul smell emanated from within the cave. Otto stepped on something that gave way slightly beneath his foot with a crunch, and glanced down to see a now broken deer skull. As they paced in farther, they saw more bones. Most seemed to be from animals, but that was little comfort, and Otto did not pause to look closer.
The cave was huge, widening as it went deeper, its ceiling arching. Even with the magical light, they couldn't see all the way to the back, nor, as they went deeper in, the left side. The hounds headed toward the right, not quite against the wall of the cave, until they reached an opening that led to another cavern, this one sloping slightly downward.
The dogs became more obviously alert, circling the entrance, and Otto had a feeling they were getting very close. Ursa was down this way, he was certain. He became aware of his heartbeat pounding in his chest as they began to descend, skidding on the pebbled floor as their own shadows menaced on the walls.
The slope soon gave way to relatively flat ground again, the bestial stench now thick. Elov strode ahead with his light-stone as Cori hung back slightly—and then froze. At the edge of the light’s radius, as gray outlines of rock gave way to blackness, was a great brown paw.
Otto carefully stepped closer, and Kennet beckoned the dogs to him, not wanting any to get too close in their excitement and wake the beast. As the group neared, Elov and Cori falling back in with the rest, they sensed a fetid breeze: Ursa Magnus exhaling in his slumber.
They had discussed strategy, and they all knew their places, but Otto felt as though they were tiptoeing on eggshells over needles. Any wrong move, and the consequences would be painful, at best.
Now they were close enough that they could see Ursa's paw clearly, the tips of his claws only a few yards away. His gigantic head was resting on the crook on his other arm, paw tucked beneath his bloodstained chin. His coal-black nose was as large as a shield, and Otto pushed away visions of an unfortunate warrior caught and crunched by that enormous snout.
Otto looked back to Petra and Britta, nodding once. They took positions farther back, laying down their torches on nearby rocks, and took their bows off their backs. Cori carefully stepped back as well, though not as far, toward the left, keeping her light source close to her chest. As torches inevitably went out, they would need the illumination.
Elov went to the right, closer to Ursa's head, with Hertha, Rolf, Viggo, and Peder following. Otto thanked Orvar that Ursa Magnus still had not awoken. Such a beast would have nothing to worry about if bats or rats skittered by in his safe abode, seemingly sheltered from the few who might stand a chance of harming him. But then, as Otto and Lukas approached the outstretched paw with their swords at the ready, Ursa's inhalation stopped.
He gave a few great sniffs, and then the beast's eyes opened.
The fearful tension shattered, ferocity rushing through Otto's veins as everything seemed to happen at once. Otto charged Ursa's face as the bear opened his snout, growling horribly, lifting his head and darting out a paw lightning fast. The paw collided with Elov just as Ursa gave a pained grunt, his left arm moving as well. Otto sprinted across the uneven cave floor and jumped to thrust his sword into the bottom of Ursa's mouth. It cut in and through, not as deep as he'd hoped, slicing through fur and skin to shower Otto with hot blood.
Ursa looked down at Otto, eyes livid. His left eye, Otto was pleased to see, was scarred with white, though less than Otto might've hoped. Even in these few weeks, Ursa's slow but sure supernatural healing had begun. Otto didn't wait to look more, but sprinted under Ursa's rising torso, curving sharply to the right and diving out as the bear leaned down too late to try to bite him. Rolling up out of his dodge and rising to his feet again, he saw Elov lying bloody and unmoving.
It was too soon to have already lost their red mage, and Otto cursed Elov for being too slow, cursed himself for not positioning his troops better. Ursa was brandishing his paw at the other four, Hertha already cut through and staggering, her shield rent in half and abandoned. A pair of arrows, fired in unison, landed in Ursa's snout, distracting him.
Lukas, Otto could see, had lost his sword—or rather, not lost it, but embedded it deep in Ursa's paw. He was hacking at the paw with his ax now. Ursa tried to stand on his hind legs in his fury, but bashed his head against the ceiling. It was low enough for him on all fours, but even this large den couldn't accommodate his full height.
Ursa instead lowered his head again, batting wildly with his paws, now trying to bite at Otto. Otto stuck his sword into the side of Ursa's snout and, sweating profusely, pulled himself up past the slobbering, huge teeth onto Ursa's head. Otto barely managed to pull out his sword as the monster bellowed, and ran to Ursa's right eye. He stuck his sword deep into Ursa's eye, but he had no way to duck the huge paw, with Lukas's sword still within it.
Rather than allow himself to be clawed off, Otto let himself fall, agony erupting in his side and back as the claws slashed through armor and into muscle. He collapsed onto the hard ground with a sickening thud. Through the haze of pain, he marveled that he was still alive. He thought of Noll, giving a cynical smile as he tried to lift his head; just because he lived now didn't mean he would last.
Beyond, Otto saw Lukas. Lukas was still alive, on his feet, and brandishing a sword—whose, Otto could not tell, and didn't want to dwell on it. Ursa's eye, Otto was pleased to see, had been ruined, and the other had sprouted more arrows, leaving him to flail in blindness and agony.
The last thing Otto saw, as he lay vaguely aware of his own blood soaking outward to his already Ursa-stained clothes, was Lukas plunging his sword into the beast's throat. He bested me yet again, Otto thought, this time not with anger but with admiration, and the world fell dark.
*~*~*
Everything was a rainbow of pain. Sharp, needling pain. Seething, throbbing pain. Overwhelming, aching pain. Consciousness not fully returned, Otto felt a warm tongue upon his face and heard a whine. Bitty. At least he would die beside his hound, he thought at first.
But there was another comfort in his depths of agony—a warm hand upon him. He tried to reach up and grasp it. Bitty's licking stopped though she continued to whine, nuzzling her head against his. One of Otto's arms would not move at all. The other fumbled weakly in the darkness until he closed upon a hand that he knew, as soon as he felt it, was Lukas’s.
Otto opened his eyes, but could not see. He panicked for a moment—was he blinded as well as maimed?—before he realized he could see, just barely, by the distant light of a flickering torch held some distance away. Held by Viggo, he saw, standing over Cori as she leaned over someone else.
"What…" Otto began, trailing off as he was unsure what to ask first, words difficult through the haze of pain.
"Ursa Magnus is slain," Lukas said, meeting Otto's eyes.
"You slayed him," Otto corrected him, smiling even as he could not forget how much everything hurt right now. "I saw, before I passed out."
"I could not have felled him alone." Otto tried to sit up, but Lukas pressed his hand more firmly against Otto's chest. "Hold still. I'm not quite done. And you shouldn't move right away, even after I am."
Otto wanted to make some bawdy joke, but he hurt too much to think straight. "Fine," he said instead. He remembered something a green mage had told him after a childhood injury: that pain was the body trying to fix the wound.
Bitty settled down beside Otto. He thought of Elov, and Hertha, and wondered who else had been slain, and who had been badly injured. They had to get back out of this cave, and it would be days to get to the nearest burg.
But there was nothing he could do about it now. He and Lukas were still alive. Sigrid's promise had been true: Noll had given them his blessing, and had led them right to Ursa Magnus himself. Even if none of them made it back home, Thunderhill had been saved.
*~*~*
Stars twinkled in the clear night sky above them as they finished the funeral pyres. Hertha, Elov, and Peder had been slain. Kennet was badly injured but stable. It had taken them hours to move all of the deceased and prepare for the rites, with Cori insisting that neither Otto nor Kennet help with moving anything. So it had fallen the others, with Cori tending to Otto and Kennet's wounds.
Otto was able to walk, to his relief, and one of his arms was tender but usable. The other Cori had bandaged heavily, and though he could wiggle his fingers, painfully, she forbid him from using it until it healed somewhat. He needed rest to recover fully, she told him. But he would live strong enough to fight again, even if it might not be for months. Kennet had broken a leg, badly, and although Cori had set it, his prospects as a warrior were unclear.
Otto prayed to the gods as he lay in pain. He asked Thea for forgiveness for slaying one of her children, thanked Volha for giving them bravery, appealed to Orvar for honor for the souls of the dead, and acknowledged Noll for his divine help.
They set up the pyre on the closest patch of grass, hauling stones to surround the bodies. Otto's heart ached as he watched, only pride at how hard the fallen had fought giving him comfort. Hertha had gone out in glory, winning the last tournament in which she’d fought. Elov, though Otto had never been close with him, had been a reliable red sorcerer and an asset to Thunderhill for many years. Peder had been a formidable warrior even in his late age. His death was the hardest, in a way, as Otto watched Viggo arranging him, red-eyed, the last time he'd ever see his husband of fifteen years. Otto felt empathy, knowing how hard he'd taken Rasmus's death, and their involvement had been far briefer.
Only once the flames had died down did the group settle to sleep. The cart and its supplies had been unmolested by animals, and though none of them said it, now there were fewer mouths to feed.
"Cori would want you to get as much rest as you can," Lukas said as Otto sat beside him on his bedroll. Despite his words, he put an arm around Otto, hand resting on a part of his back that wasn't too badly bruised.
"When did you become one to listen to authority?" replied Otto, leaning in. He was tired, but he didn't want sleep. His nerves still felt frayed from the battle, his mind filled with the thoughts of the dead.
"I don't listen to authority, but I listen to wisdom." Lukas turned and gave Otto a brief, but deep, kiss on his lips. Even through the pain and loss, or perhaps because of the contrast with it, Otto felt himself stirred with longing.
Otto and Lukas had survived. Their budding relationship had not been cut short by death, not this time. There was death around them, but it only emphasized what a true gift their lives were. The burden of uncertainty at Thunderhill's future was gone, and Otto felt a sudden selfishness. He wanted what was best for his people, but he wanted what was best for him as well. He wanted Lukas.
Lukas clearly had the same thing on his mind, as he moved and helped Otto lie flat on the bedroll. As much as he wanted to wrestle with Lukas, grasp at each other, make love like battle, Otto was too tired and pained to protest.
With Otto's bandages and useless arm, Lukas didn't try to undress him fully, as they'd done on earlier nights. Though so recent, those days already felt so far away. Instead, Lukas went straight for the strings of his trousers. Cock already rising in anticipation, Otto lifted his hips to let Lukas pull trousers and underpants alike down to his knees.
Lukas leaned beside Otto, wrapping one hand around his cock and supporting himself with the other as he kissed Otto deeply. Lukas moved his hand fast and hard, the tenderness he'd shown before worn down to rough desperation. Otto didn't mind at all. Lukas's hand was slightly softer than his own, a little bit smaller but just as skilled at long, fulfilling strokes. With each movement up and down, Lukas's thumb rubbed against the sensitive underside of the head of Otto's cock, and Otto's arousal built quickly until quite suddenly, he was spilling himself onto Lukas's hand and onto his own belly.
Lukas helped clean him up and pull up his trousers as Otto sank into fatigue. Everything felt like so much, too much to even think on, and he fell asleep right there on Lukas's bedroll.
*~*~*
The next day, they began the journey to Frostwood. It was less than three days away by foot, the closest of any burg. Otto was glad they had not abandoned the wagon, for it was the only way they were able to transport Kennet. The skulls of the three fallen sat beside him, to be brought to their final resting place in Thunderhill.
It rained on the second day, but no beasts disturbed them and they reached the earthen walls of Frostwood unmarred. Otto and his companions were welcomed, though with initial skepticism. Frostwood had heard news of Ursa Magnus locally, but he had not been sighted from its walls. All the burg had was the word of this ragged party, but such skepticism was only intimated, as Frostwood had no desire to insult the prince of Thunderhill.
Once their tale was fully told, including the precise location of Ursa Magnus's lair, Frostwood's king seemed satisfied. The group was welcome to rest as long as they needed, offered lodging in the unoccupied nomad quarters for Kennet to recover through the autumn if needed, and for Cori to stay to care for him. After consulting with Otto, Viggo offered his services as a warrior to stay with them as well, working as a laborer for the harvest season and readying his ax to protect the burg from the beasts sure to attack as they fattened up for winter. Such exchanges were unusual but not unprecedented in such circumstances, and Otto could tell that returning to Thunderhill now without Peder would do Viggo more harm than good. Kennet was one of Viggo's closer friends, and leaving a capable Thunderhill warrior to stay with one injured and one healer was a good gesture. Frostwood's king accepted.
With gold and goodwill, Otto bought new reindeer for their journey home. The mounts were older, slow but steady creatures who didn’t have more than another year in them, but they would suffice. Otto felt a brief sadness for Leif, but held to the promise of finding a steady young reindeer back in Thunderhill, one of many new beginnings stretching before him.
The matter of his future with Lukas was, Otto realized, much more real now that they were bound homeward. Had one or both of them fallen, as Otto had expected would likely happen, he would not have had to consider what happened next. Otto wanted to be with Lukas, his attraction forged to certainty on the battlefield. Such bonds formed far faster, and even stronger, than those that developed during peace. Johan had known his first husband just two weeks before proposing, after they fought side by side in a grueling battle with Yewcastle. Though they had only known each other for weeks, Otto had seen Lukas in action. He knew the man was an exceptional warrior, which spoke well to his potential both as a husband and as a fellow king.
But the responsibility of being a king was greater than just marriage, yet unavoidable for Otto's would-be spouse. He wasn't sure whether Lukas would welcome that responsibility, the duties of both war and peace, every day of the year. When Otto's speculation began to unravel, he resolved to stop worrying and speak with Lukas, bluntly and honestly.
On the second night in Frostwood, with plans to leave in the morning, Otto went to the hot spring with Lukas after supper. A half mile outside the city, it gave them a welcome chance to walk and enjoy the natural hot water—and for Otto to escape Cori's doting but tiring care.
Otto waited until they reached the spring, rosy-tinted clouds painted by the falling sun watching over them. There had been a few men in the spring they arrived, but they'd cleared out as Otto and Lukas approached, bidding them good evening; all the warriors of Frostwood now recognized the prince of Thunderhill, and a party of their own was on its way to investigate the remnants of Ursa Magnus's lair now.
Otto and Lukas stripped quickly, the summer winds chilly today, and Otto placed the pouch with the healing rune on a tie around his arm to keep it close. They sank into the waters across from each other, spreading out to enjoy the feeling of their limbs in the buoyant mineral water, with Otto keeping his injured arm on the side so as to not ruin the dressing on it.
"I'd like to talk to you about betrothal," Otto said. His heart sank as Lukas visibly stiffened.
"What about it?" Lukas said, looking hard at Otto, his dark eyebrows knitting together.
"I'm in love with you, a love I'd given up hope of finding again in my life," said Otto. He wouldn't back down now, not after all they'd been through. His heart thundered in his chest, nerves so taut he felt as though he might burst. "I'd not given too much thought to our future, because I wouldn't let myself. The closer we came together, the closer we were coming to Ursa Magnus. It would've been foolishness to dwell on the chance of what could be in victory, with both of us still standing—rest the souls of those who fell."
Lukas still looked harsh, though something—pain, disappointment?—was cracking his stony face. Otto thought wildly that perhaps this was it, perhaps Lukas never wanted to wed again and this had been a passion born of desperation and the thought they'd not live to make it back. A lust for the road, not for life.
"It would have been," Lukas agreed evenly. "I tried not to think on it too much myself. I had hoped it wouldn't end so soon."
Otto's face fell despite himself; he couldn't disguise his disappointment.
"I'll join a band based elsewhere again, back to Hoartower," Lukas continued, his voice growing colder. "Maybe Yewcastle."
"I don't want to drive you off—" Otto began, but Lukas cut him off.
"You're not alone in your feelings, Otto. How am I to come back twice a year and see you again, with a rich burgher husband? If not this winter, then next summer, or the one after. I know your time as king is coming soon, but I don't have to keep loyalty to your burg after you cast me aside to throw your revitalized heart into the quest for a suitable spouse, and I certainly won't continue on the sly."
Otto shook his head, disbelieving, at how badly Lukas misunderstood him.
"I want you as my spouse, Lukas! If you don't want marriage again, or being tied to Thunderhill, or the responsibilities of being a king, I understand, but don't throw the knife at me for wanting you by my side!" Lukas's mouth, opening to retort, stayed open as he realized what Otto had said. "Curses, Lukas—did you really think I wanted to find someone else, just because you're a nomad?"
"Nomads—" Lukas stopped himself and sighed heavily. "Yes. When you said 'talk of betrothal,' that was all I could think. You wouldn't be the first noble to have fallen for a nomad but abandoned him for a spouse of higher status."
"And I won't be the first noble to take a nomad as my husband, either," Otto pointed out. "It's less common but far from unprecedented." He couldn't help but chuckle. "You bested me in the sword tournament, and slayed Ursa Magnus. I'd be a fool not to wed you, if only to keep you on the side of Thunderhill!"
"So that's all I am to you? A handsome, dangerously skilled warrior?" At first, Otto worried that he'd offended Lukas again, but Lukas let out a sly grin.
"A handsome, dangerously skilled warrior I trust with my life and with my heart," said Otto. He closed the distance between them in the small pool.
"Lukas," he continued, "I want to marry you. And I want to announce our betrothal at the feast that celebrates our victory."
Lukas put his hands on Otto's shoulders, the warmth of intimacy and water alike sustaining Otto. "I'd never imagined being a king, truthfully. It's not a path I thought would be for me, and I love the freedom of roving, moving with the reindeer, not being tied to any one place. But for you, I would take my place as a king of Thunderhill. I can't ignore where fate has brought me, and I will not spurn this chance. Your warriors fight bravely, and you've proven that you're a thoughtful and true leader, one with which I would be honored to partner."
They embraced, Otto only vaguely thinking of his arm. He could replace the bandages when he got back. Far more important was kissing Lukas, pressing their bodies together. They'd both been afraid, first of losing each other to death, then to the other's wants. Finally, Otto knew that the only mistake he had made with Lukas was to not be straightforward with him, and to not trust him fully. Lukas would make a good husband, in battle, in ruling, and in the bedroom alike.
They moved to the grass to touch and suck on each other, milking rushed and needy orgasms out of each other's refreshed bodies. They took a second dip to clean themselves again afterward, then walked back to Frostwood with the last rays of sunset before them.