The Liar's Key (The Red Queen's War #2)(56)

“Hel, they could take the whole world with magics like that.” Tuttugu set his back to the stone and slid down to sit against the base. Snorri shrugged Hennan from his back and lifted his axe to inspect the blade.

“The wrong-mages are bound to the Wheel,” Kara said. “And in time it breaks each of them. Their power diminishes swiftly as they move further from the centre. Not that many of them have the willpower to leave in any case. Kelem was the only wrong-mage to truly escape this place.” Her fingers moved among her braids, freeing most of the runes still hanging there, preparing for the fight.

“You said opening the doorway was beyond you . . .” I frowned at the v?lva, her face resigned yet still fierce. “But before today the spell you summoned serpents with had only ever rippled the grass . . .”

She looked up at Snorri, standing beside her. “Give me the key—there’s not much to lose at this point . . . I’ll try to open the way.”

“What?” He eyed the open space between us. “It’s an arch. There’s no lock.”

Kara touched her rune-filled left fist to a symbol on the left support, eyes narrowed in concentration, the echo of some internal litany twitching on her lips. She crossed to the opposite side and struck a second carving with her right fist. “Give me the key. I can work this.”

Snorri looked suspicious. I felt a little glow to know it wasn’t just me he didn’t trust with Loki’s gift. “Direct me,” he said.

The v?lva shot him a narrow look. “We don’t have time to argue, just—”

“Show me how and I’ll do it.” I could hear the growl in his voice. This wasn’t up for debate.

Kara glanced toward the closest ridge where the Hardassa would soon appear. “From the runes it seems this arch was an attempt to open the doors to many places where men were not meant to go. Here,” she pointed to the first character she had touched, “darkness, and there, light. To step across miles in this world you have to take shortcuts through such places.”

“Open the door to light,” Snorri said.

“Damn that!” I saw his plan now, to unleash Baraqel and his kind on the Broken Empire. “Take the dark path—Aslaug can guide us.”

“No!” It was perhaps the first time since he faced Sven Broke-Oar that I’d heard true rage in his voice. A nimbus of light lit around him, tinged with the red of the western sky. “We’ll not take that road.”

A fury of my own rose at the snarl on the northman’s treacherous face. A black anger running through my veins, dark and thrilling. The idea that I had ever feared Snorri seemed as ridiculous as the idea I had ever trusted him. Right now I knew the strength of mere muscle would count for nothing when I reached out to crush him. I held his gaze. The bastard wanted Baraqel out in the world. Everything Aslaug had said was true. Snorri was the light’s servant now. “Kara, open the night-door.”

“No.” Snorri stepped forward and I matched him, until we stood face to face beneath the empty arch. Darkness smoked off my skin and I could feel Aslaug’s hands upon my shoulders, cool and steadying. The light that burned around Snorri bled from his eyes now. There’s light that is the warmth and comfort of the first days of summer, then there’s the glare of a desert sun where that light moves from comfort to cruelty—the light Baraqel sent through Snorri went beyond that into something not meant for men, so harsh that it held no place for any living thing.

“Kara!” I barked at her. “Open it.”

Snorri raised his fist, perhaps unconscious of the axe clutched in it. “I won’t have that night-whore—”

I hit him. Without thought. And the impact of it near deafened me. A burst of dark-light threw both of us yards back, but we found our feet in moments, throwing ourselves at each other, howling.

Only Tuttugu stepping into the archway and interposing himself prevented a second, more violent clash. Snorri found himself holding his father’s axe above the head of the only other living Undoreth. I found myself, hands outstretched into claws, reaching for Tuttugu’s face.

Snorri withdrew his hand and let the axe drop. “What . . . what are we doing?” The moment of madness passed.

I’d been going to leap on an axe-wielding Snorri, barehanded. “Christ—it’s this place!” Neither of us owned our actions any more. A little longer and we’d both be puppets for the avatar we carried inside us. “We need to get out of here before it kills us.”

“The Red Vikings will probably beat Osheim to it.” Kara insinuated herself past Tuttugu to stand between us. She pushed both of us back. “I’ll try to open the door that I think I have most chance of success with.” She looked up at Snorri. “And if you won’t let go of your precious key then, yes, I will direct you.” She wiped the frustration from her face and pushed Snorri back another couple of feet before turning to face the archway, eyes doing that defocused “witchy” thing of hers. “There!” She moved beside him, pointing to an arbitrary point in the air, her head cocked to one side, staring past her finger into some infinity.

With a frown, Snorri fished out the key on its chain and, stepping closer, raised it to the point indicated. The blackness of the thing looked wrong against the thickening gloom. It had nothing of darkness about it, that black, but was something else again, perhaps the colour of lies, or sin.