A Hero's throne

magics of his own.”

“Why was he doing that?” Freya asked. “What-what was he after?”

“That I did not find out. He claimed it was all his private interest.”

“But. .?”

“But for that I know him. Growing up, he would do nothing without purpose. He loved games, games of all sorts, and nothing was so important to him as to win his games. I say ‘his games,’ since he would make up rules to games he felt were too simple. We-James and I-would not play with him if we could help it, since he was a notorious cheat. Nothing, not even his own rules, would prevent him from winning.” She rubbed her forehead as if it pained her. “I paint him with a dark brush, but I love my brother-I do. But I certainly do not trust him.”

“What about the yfelgopes? Where did he pick those up from?”

“I know little of them. Somehow, in a way unknown to me, he has willed them over to his cause. He has great appeal to those with unforgiving minds that are full of checks and balances. Jealous minds in which mercy and grace do not fit-worldly minds of perfect justice.”

“Perfect justice doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It is the worst sin of this world-it does not allow for forgiveness.”

“Coming back to the Carnyx-what are we going to do about that? Are we still going to go after it?”

“You would need me to find that,” Modwyn said. “And I would not willingly contribute to the destruction of Ni?ergeard.”

“Modwyn, Ni?ergeard was destroyed as soon as Ealdstan left. He had eight years to come back and rescue you-rescue you all. But he didn’t come back-we did. We’re what you’ve got. Where’s the Carnyx?”

“Godmund took it. He is with it now. He will protect it with every muscle in his body until the moment of need.”

“Modwyn, my queen,” Vivienne said, “that moment is soon here. Ecgbryt and my nephew Alex are even now awakening an army of the greatest warriors this island has ever known. They are bringing them here directly, and we shall deliver this city from its invaders, track down my brother, and deliver him to justice-in whatever form that takes.”

Modwyn sat silently. Frithfroth, at the door, made no sound.

“Trust us. What other choice do you have?” Freya asked. “Because right now, now that your spirit is back in your body, I think that anyone at all could walk into this tower without any trouble.”

“It has been years since anyone attempted-”

“Maybe so, but Daniel just walked out there and he hasn’t come back. As terrible as it is to think it, he may have been captured. If so, people will be wondering where he came from.”

Modwyn looked down to the knife in Freya’s hand.

“I suppose you could try stabbing yourself again, if I let you have this-or I could do it for you. It might be a little more permanent if I do, though, me being mortal-a lifiende.”

“Leave me to consider,” Modwyn said after a moment’s thought. “I would contemplate alone for a while.”

Vivienne pulled Freya to the side and whispered to her in a low, urgent voice, “We need to find the Carnyx; that is the utmost priority of our mission. Nothing else matters as much as that. If she were somehow to escape, or do away with herself completely, we could never find it.”

Freya nodded and turned back to address Modwyn. “Personally, I don’t trust you enough to let you out of my sight. You can think about it, but we’re going to stay in this room with you while you do. Take your time, we’ll be quiet.”

Settling themselves on opposite sides of the room to Modwyn, the women steeled themselves for a long vigil as Modwyn settled back into her bed. Freya turned her back on the wall of lamps and folded her arms, placing her head against the wall beneath a shuttered window. Her mind was now weighing and evaluating the information she’d received. Things were getting started-they were getting closer to the Carnyx, Alex and Ecgbryt should be well on their way to gathering the rest of the knights, and Daniel? What had happened to him? When things happened, she got the feeling that they would happen quickly. She had the feeling that she would need as much rest as she could grab.

III

Dawn broke, and Night released Daniel. He laid on the ground, cold, too exhausted even to shiver. He barely breathed; only the thinnest stream of air entered his lungs through his open, gaping mouth. Dew covered his body and the grass around him. He was aware, but thoughtless, his mind brutalised by the Night. He felt as if he could move, but he had no desire. His will had been completely pulverised.

He moved his hand-more of a jerk-just an inch. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to break him from his nearly catatonic state. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up-and vanished, becoming incorporeal. He was reminded once more that not all of him was in the world-that his soul, his mind, whatever part of his consciousness that made him him was still separate.

This again, he thought, with a sort of sigh. What had he gone through? All that pain just to-

It was that thought of pain and the suffering of his body that brought him back together, standing upright. He felt the leaden, painful, dreary weight of existence pulse with every beat of his heart as well as a deep weariness. He remembered the pain that had racked every cell of his body, and at last he was corporeal again.

So that’s the trick, he thought as he flexed his aching hands. Meditate on the pain of existence and become more real. How miserable.

The enormous morning sun was just breaking from the horizon and throwing orange rays of light into his eyes, across his face.

“So what now?” he said out loud.

He thought of the only other people he had met in Elfland, of K?yle’s wood-burning hut in the forest, and felt himself moving. The plain flew beneath him, and then the trees, passing through him like he was nothing.

And then he was there. He focused on becoming “real” again, focused on pain, and felt his body solidify. He looked down at his clothes and noticed that he wore the blue outfit that he’d been given in Ni?ergeard, only scaled to his adult size.

“K?yle?” he called.

The clearing looked a little overgrown and disused. He moved over to one of the burning pits and saw weeds poking up through the thin layer of ash and burned earth that had been left behind when the last batch of charcoal had been made, which would have been. . weeks ago? Months?

“Daniel?”

He turned and saw Pettyl standing at the entrance to the hut. He smiled, happy to see a familiar and friendly face, but the face didn’t seem happy to see him. She wore a look of what may have been sorrow, or even despair. Her cheeks were sunken and eyes ringed with dark circles.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m not exactly sure about that, Pettyl,” he said, falling back into the Elfish he had learned. “I met up with three dead elves, and then there was Night. I was running, and then there was pain. .” Daniel trailed off. What had happened to him came in pictures that he didn’t think he could describe.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Do you. . do you think that I really am here? I’m not so sure if all of this is real, if I’m real. I mean, look-” Daniel allowed himself to discorporate. Pettyl seemed to experience no real surprise at this, merely staring at the place where he had been standing, in a mild stupor. Daniel thought of the space off to her side and appeared there.

“See?” he said, causing Pettyl to jump slightly. “It seems to me that I shouldn’t be able to do that.”

Pettyl reached out to him. Her hand rested on his chest and pushed slightly. He felt a rush of pleasure at a