Friya dismounted, and she and I followed Mur into the interior of the castle. Everything was huge in here, from the doors to the tables and the chairs, making us feel like infants. Mur took us down to the castle vault. Every Jotunn we saw along the way saw the crown on Mur’s head and immediately dropped to their knees before him.
He commanded the guards to open the vault for us. Once inside, he walked over to a thick wolfskin cloak hanging on one of the walls. He handed it to Friya, who took it with a look of awe glowing in her beautiful eyes.
“Finally,” she murmured. “I have dreamed of this cloak for many years. I have known since I was a girl that it would be my destiny to wear it.”
“Well, now that we have it, we can rest for the night,” I said. “Maybe have some of that mead you Frost Giants are so fond of, eh, Mur?”
Mur chuckled, his laughter rattling the stone walls of the vault.
“You are welcome to have as much mead as you would like, Vance,” he rumbled. “And I will have some chambers prepared for your people. You will be safe here. You have my word. You have given me a kingdom, and an impossible victory in the face of complete defeat. It is the least I can do.”
“Mead and a rest after a victory,” I said. “Is there anything better?”
Friya clutched the cloak to her breast and kissed me deeply. Mur shifted uncomfortably.
I pulled back from the Wise Woman. “But we have to leave at first light. Time is running out—if it hasn’t run out already.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning, King Mur insisted on escorting us to the borders of his land, with his personal bodyguard: 10 Frost Giants, mighty warriors who had grudgingly served King Engroth but were now fiercely loyal to Mur. They were grateful to him—as it turned out many Jotunn were—for removing the corrupt and inept King Engroth. We didn’t exactly need an escort, not with the army I now led, but it was a gesture of solidarity and friendship from Mur, so I gladly accepted.
The bordering lands were once again forested, and while there was snow in the trees, there wasn’t nearly as much as there had been in the fields we’d been trekking through, nor was it as cold and generally inhospitable.
“Be on your guard once you leave these territories,” Mur said. “We have heard tales of strange things, especially coming from the direction of Lucielle’s fortress. You will find the fortress due southwest from here, around two days’ march, if you keep a steady pace from sunrise to sunset. Your uncle Rodrick sounds much like Engroth, and like Engroth, I hope you are able to give him the justice he deserves. Cut off his head and stick it on a spike, Vance.”
“Believe me, Mur, I’m going to cut that motherfucker’s head off,” I said, “but I won’t stick it on a spike after it comes off his shoulders. No, I’m gonna stick it in a privy and then get everyone to piss and shit on it until it has disappeared.”
Mur boomed out a peal of thunderous laughter. “I like you, Vance! You are one human I would never eat.”
“God, Mur, god. I’m no man. Remember that.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Without your powers of Death, I would be wandering the wastelands alone, a pauper. I will not forget what your undead army did for me. If you ever need the assistance of the Jotunn, all you have to do is send a message to me, and I will come to your aid. I owe you everything, Vance, and we Jotunn do not forget such things.”
I reached up and offered him my hand. He dropped down onto one knee so that he could shake my hand—well, offer me a finger of his hand to shake. Hell, even his finger was thicker than my thigh.
“I appreciate that, Mur,” I said. “I hope it doesn’t ever get to the point where I have to call on you for aid, but I’ll remember that the offer is there. Farewell, my friend.”
“Farewell, God of Death.”
Mur and his enormous bodyguards gave a thunderous cheer, then we were on our way. Friya shook her head, grinning. She’d been smiling like a madwoman ever since she’d acquired the Cloak of Changing. She hadn’t used it yet, but I could tell that she was itching to.
“I never thought we would leave this land as friends and allies of the Jotunn,” she said, still smiling. “I was praying that we would merely pass through with only a minimal number of our party being killed and eaten. Never could I have imagined that we would help to depose their king and stay in their castle as honored guests. Few humans can claim to have done such things.”
“I just saw an opportunity and seized it,” I said with a shrug. “And thankfully, it paid off. Now, since we have two days of marching ahead of us, why don’t you tell me a bit more about this Cloak of Changing? I can see that you’re dying to try it out.”
“It is a relic of the God of Beasts, like Rollar’s helm. But while Rollar’s helm allows him to speak to animals, this cloak will allow me, as I told you, to change into one—into a werewolf.”
“I thought werewolves were like vampires. You know, people have to be bitten by one to become one. They become uncontrollable beasts when they change. They have to be under the light of the full moon. You know, all that.”
“That is correct. Under most circumstances, lycanthropy is a curse. The afflicted cannot control themselves when they are in werewolf form, and they cannot control when they change. The full moon is the most common trigger, but there are others too. This cloak changes all of that. It allows the wearer to become a
