Then I was fertilized and grew wise;
From a word to a word I was led to a word,
From a work to a work I was led to a work.
—Vafþrúðnismál. (The Poetic Edda)
She sat on her sunbaked, impromptu throne like the queen she was, pale golden locks stirring in the hot wind blowing from the depths of Kleymtlant’s deserts. Her gray eyes sought his, and when their gazes met, Luka Oolfhyethidn’s stomach twittered. When she smiled, he thought he might melt.
“What news, my Champion?” Hel asked.
“My Queen, the rebels left Trankastrantir on horseback, but they rode east, not south.”
One of her eyebrows quirked. “By sea then?”
Luka nodded once. “They may avoid our trap despite their complete ignorance of its existence.”
“Oh come, Luka,” she said. “Do you think me so easy to thwart?” She cocked her head to the side, a small smile playing on her lips. “Your part of the plan is in readiness?”
“Of course, my Queen. I spoke with him. He knows his role.”
“Superb. I heard from one of Vowli’s oolfa this morning. His part of the plan is in place, ready, and waiting.”
“And can we trust our agent?”
Her gaze hardened. “Am I so easily fooled?”
“No, my Queen. I meant to wonder at the strength of Vowli’s conditioning methods.”
She arched her eyebrow. “Beyond reproach. But come, enough of this petty jealousy, Luka. We must drive them back to the course we prefer.”
“Yes, my Queen. Shall I—”
“I will handle that part.”
“Yes, my Queen.”
“We have a challenge before us. One to which we must rise.”
He arched his eyebrow and scratched his chin. “Tell me, my Queen.”
“We have a game of hnefatafl to play, and you and I stand against many.”
“And which side are we?”
She smiled a lazy, crooked smile. “The attackers, of course.”
He grinned and inclined his head. “I understand, my Queen. We erect barricades to keep them from straying from the path we choose.”
“Indeed, my Champion. Indeed.” She waved her hand toward a pen of human and subhuman thralls the army had gathered from the sparse civilizations of Kleymtlant. “In the meantime, are you hungry? You are much more mischievous on a full stomach.”
Luka let his eyes wander about the pen, and his mouth began to water. “I could eat, my Queen.”
She nodded. “Then choose our prey.” She stood and let the cool, loose robe fall at her feet. “Byarnteer,” she murmured and began to stretch and morph.
An intense pleasure, mingled with lust, swept through Luka. The last time they had hunted together had been on Mithgarthr. He pointed out a thrall. “That one,” he said to one of the pen’s guards. He glanced up at Hel’s new bear-like form and smiled. “Oolfur.” Luka took a deep breath and began his own change into a beast out of nightmare.