“By the Great One.” One of the creatures stepped forward. His yellow gaze dropping to Risk. “What type of creature are you?”
Surprised they could speak, Risk glanced at Lusse. She waved her hand in a circular motion. Get on with it.
“Forandre. Hellhound.” He projected his reply so both the creatures and Lusse could hear.
More hissing, then one of them asked, “You change, like the Great One? Is your other form serpent?”
Risk’s lip curled at the thought. “Human.”
The creatures looked at each other and nodded. “We didn’t think there was another as strong as the Great One,” the second creature replied.
“Change,” the first demanded.
Risk narrowed his eyes. His ability to shift between hound and human was not a circus trick to be performed for others’ entertainment.
Beside him Lusse shifted, her exhaled breath telling Risk she was impatient to get on with their quest.
“Yes, yes, shift,” the second creature chimed in, his long body bouncing slightly with his excitement.
Gritting his teeth, Risk considered their request. He was strongest in his hound form, but his strength would do him no good trapped in this waiting area. And there were benefits to being human — like being addressed as an equal.
With an annoyed growl, he shook his body out and willed his form to change. The magic that allowed his transformation swelled from within him, shifting his form from hound to human in mere seconds. Risk stretched, pushing himself to his full height, the heat and humidity of the tube rolling over his naked skin.
The creatures stepped back, their huge eyes glowing even more brightly. “Ah, he did it.”
“Yes, yes.” The second creature clapped his hands together. “Big.”
“Not as big as Jormun,” the first chastised.
“No, no. Jormun is the greatest,” the second agreed.
Lusse whipped her cape around her arm with an impatient snap. Risk touched her arm lightly, reminding her of her plan. If antagonized, Jormun’s front guard might choose to leave them in the portal’s entrance tube.
Her lips thin, she waited.
“And this one?” The creature gestured toward Lusse. “She is your toll?”
Lusse opened her mouth, but before she or Risk could reply, the creatures continued, “Too late. Jormun has no more need of such. So sorry, forandre.” With an awkward bow, the pair turned to leave.
“Halt,” Lusse ordered.
The creatures glanced back, their tongues flickering out of their mouths.
“How can he not need me?” Lusse swept her arm down the length of her body. Her hand fisting.
The creatures looked back at Risk, confusion on their faces. “Your toll wants to serve Jormun?”
Lusse stepped forward. “I am not a toll. I’m a challenger. I challenge Jormun’s new witches.”
Risk lowered his brows. Lusse’s arrogance was intolerable to him; he could only imagine how the creatures before them viewed it. “Doesn’t Jormun want the most powerful of witches?” he asked.
Lusse smiled, her hand relaxing.
“He has them,” the creatures replied, their faces still twisted in confusion.
“Impossible,” Lusse spit out.
Before she could continue, Risk jumped in. “How does he know? Has he pitted them against the strongest of their kind?”
The creatures glanced from Lusse to Risk, then turned back to face each other. “How did you get here? The garm grants only those with a toll passage.”
“I blasted my way through, then enslaved the little wolf,” Lusse replied, a bored tilt to her lips.
The creatures glanced a question at Risk.
He nodded, hoping the garm did nothing on the other side to give away his lie — and that the garm didn’t trap Risk here in Jormun’s realm when he learned of it.
After a few more seconds of hissing, they turned back. “We will consult with Jormun. Wait.”
With a snap, the door closed again, leaving Risk back in the moist darkness, an angry Lusse at his side.
She barely had time to huff and declare her outrage at being left before the doorway thinned again, and the two mutant creatures reappeared. The first carried a black piece of cloth, which he handed to Risk with a bow. “For your comfort, Jormun thought you might prefer to be clothed.”
Risk pulled on the outfit — a black jumpsuit identical to what the two creatures were wearing.
With Risk dressed, the two ushered Lusse and Risk out of the narrow tube and into a brightly lit grand hall.
A man, at least a foot taller than Risk, stood in front of a convex window looking out at the sea. When he heard them approach he turned, clapping his hands together. The sound echoed through the room.
“A hound.” His dark eyes lit with delight. “I haven’t encountered a hound since…” His eyes darkened. “For what feels like a millennium. Do you still hunt with the gods?”
“The hunt is dead,” Risk replied.
Jormun folded his arms over his massive chest and peered down at Risk. “So, now you hunt…witches?”
Risk angled his head. “Not all of us, but yes, that’s been my life.”
“Hmm. And this one, you claim can outpower the pair I have? They are twins, you know. Identical.”
“So we’ve heard. That’s certainly rare, but this witch has unequaled power.”
Jormun stepped back to analyze Lusse, who met his gaze with a raised brow. “She’s certainly bolder than most who are brought here.”
“I have nothing to fear.” Lusse folded her arms over her chest, mirroring Jormun’s body language.
Jormun laughed. For one interminable moment, Risk thought he was going to pat Lusse on the head. Instead he stepped back and studied Risk.
“You have my interest. What bounty do you request?”
“No bounty. Just a challenge.” Risk nodded his head toward Lusse.
Jormun raised one brow. “Between her and my pair?”
Lusse tapped the toe of her shoe on Jormun’s stone floor.
“She is stronger than she looks.”
“I’m the strongest,” Lusse interrupted. “I’ve spent my lifetime draining the powers of witches such as yours.”
“Ah.” Jormun tilted his head. “But you have nothing to offer me when I win.” He waved toward the mutant creatures.
“My hound,” Lusse threw out.
Jormun paused. “The forandre?” He ran his finger along the line of his chin, his eyes turning contemplative. “How do you feel about that, forandre?”
Risk froze, his breath barely leaving his chest. Would Lusse actually turn his binds over to Jormun, or was it another of her tricks — and did it matter? If Lusse lost, wouldn’t it be better to be trapped here with Jormun? At least Kara would be near, at some point perhaps he could figure a way to free her, free them both.
After studying Risk for a moment, Jormun swung his massive hand, smacking Risk on the back. Risk braced his legs to keep from teetering under the giant’s blow.
“It doesn’t matter. I could use some entertainment and someone to talk with besides the skapt.” Jormun glanced at the creatures who watched him with unmasked adoration.
“Wait,” Lusse placed her hand on Risk’s back. “We haven’t discussed what I get when I win.”
“When you win…” Amusement danced through Jormun’s eyes. “Yes, let’s hear your demands.”
“Nothing much. Just your secrets. What you’ve been doing down here since you were cast into this sea.” Her hand swept toward the window Jormun had been staring out of when they’d entered. “I want to learn what these skapt are, and how they were created.”
Jormun’s eyes narrowed, his massive fists forming balls. “No, you don’t ask much.”
Power sizzled around the giant, catching Risk off guard. If Lusse felt it, she showed no sign.
Jormun leaned forward until his nose almost brushed Lusse’s. “Fair warning, witch. My secrets are mine, and I don’t share them lightly. But…” He straightened, the power fading as quickly as it built. “Since there is no chance you can defeat my witches, I agree to your terms.”
