“I will not attempt to tap your nonexistent hand,” said the spider. “Your presence disturbs me, and I find myself wishing you were somewhere else.”
“As do I, ma’am,” said Sir Ronald, lowering his arm and bowing deeply.
Leonard gestured toward Merlin. “This is Merlin of Camelot, all-around troublemaker and trusted advisor to the noble King Arthur.”
Merlin bowed and extended his hand, which Kónguló lightly tapped. “Hello, Merlin of Camelot, all-around troublemaker and trusted advisor to the noble King Arthur.”
“It is a pleasure and privilege to meet and not be devoured by you, oh Great Kónguló.”
“Just Kónguló will do,” said the spider before turning back to Leonard. “He’s right, you know.”
Leonard raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “I beg your pardon, ma’am? Right about what?”
“This wizard speaks the truth when he says you possess a magical gift for coming up with the right answer on the fly.”
Leonard blinked. “He does? I do?”
“I’m letting you pass through my hidey-hole unharmed, aren’t I?”
Leonard glanced at Merlin, who was smiling smugly back at him with an “I told you so” look in his eyes.
Leonard frowned and sighed. “Yes, ma’am. You are.”
Kónguló stared at Leonard and the others for a moment. “You should go,” she said. “The thought that I should eat you even though I’ve recently dined is growing strong in my mind.”
With that, Leonard and Merlin shouldered their packs and hurried toward the entrance of Kónguló’s cavern with Leonard calling, “Thanks again!” as they ran.
Reaching the entrance, they emerged onto the broad and nearly as dark plains of Niflheim. Leonard couldn’t help thinking that the bleak and dreary landscape before him was the very definition of nightmares and despair. “Which way, Merlin?”
“It doesn’t matter, as long as it is away from Kónguló and her growing appetite!”
Chapter Ten
Fight and Fright
A fter quite some time or no time at all, Merlin must have felt they’d put enough distance between themselves and the giant furry spider that he called for a brief rest on a shelf of rock that looked over a broad and deep valley. “Let us regain our strength before continuing on,” he said. “The next leg of our journey will require stealth and complete focus on the task at hand. Would you not agree, Sir Ronald?”
“I would,” said the dead knight, eyeing the valley with a look of apprehension in his eyes. “One does not attempt to sneak past such a place, with its high walls, heavy gates, and ever-watching eyes without taking the greatest of care.”
Leonard joined Merlin and Sir Ronald at the edge of the shelf. “What in the world are you two talking about?”
Sir Ronald slowly lifted his arm and pointed down toward the center of the dark valley. “Behold Eljudnir, the citadel of the goddess Hel, ruler of Helheim, the world within a world. Keeper of its hideous monsters, fearsome beasts, and the dishonorable dead.”
“Oh. So, why are we going anywhere near her and that awful place?”
“Eljudnir sits on the only path to Yggdrasil, meaning that one must go through its gates to get to the Great Tree. Leonard—”
“No.”
“No what? You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Oh yes I do. You were going to ask me to come up with a plan to sneak through Hel’s citadel.”
“I was not! I was going to ask you and Sir Ronald, as members of this expedition, to contribute ideas that we, in a collegial and democratic spirit, would eventually incorporate into a plan . . . that we all came up with . . . together.”
Just then, Sir Ronald began waving his hand in front of Leonard and Merlin’s faces. “Gentlemen!”
“Ah, see? Sir Ronald has the right spirit, so to speak, and is already joining in on the planning. Do you have an idea to contribute, Sir Ronald?”
“Uh, not really,” said the dead knight before pointing past their heads.
Leonard turned and inhaled sharply at the sight of who or what was gathered directly behind them. Staring back at them was a squad of at least twenty warriors, their expressions ranging from humorless to malevolent to murderous. Standing to the rear was a colossal hound that towered over the warriors and drooled a constant stream of spittle on the ground in front of him. Merlin wheeled around and murmured what sounded like a spell of some kind.
“What was that?” asked Leonard.
“Concealment spell,” whispered Merlin. “I’m hiding everything except us and our clothing.”
“But why—”
Before Leonard could finish his question, one of the warriors, a slight, rat-faced man, stepped forward and bowed. “The goddess Hel, ruler of Helheim and Niflheim and Empress of the Dead demands, sorry, requests your presence in her vast palace, the Citadel of Eljudnir.” Rat Face paused for a moment and then continued. “This is where one of two things will happen. Either you will accept my goddess’s generous invitation without a fight and accompany us back to the palace, or Garm, the infamous Hound of Hel, will attack and tear each of you, the living each of you, into tiny bits of quivering flesh. Side note, I have been empowered with the ability to reassemble you and make this mauling recur at least one dozen times or until you agree to accompany us back to the palace, whichever comes first. Do I make myself—” Rat Face paused and walked over to Sir Ronald, examining the dead knight closely. “Hold on. I never forget a ghost. Were you not here recently or perhaps a long time ago?”
Sir Ronald fidgeted. “I was.”
“I thought so. You were one of the ghost bards tasked with entertaining during banquets, am I right?”
“No. Actually, I was assigned to torment an oath breaker in the lowest dungeon, but I escaped since I was accidentally sent here by a mix-up in the central archives—”
“Ah, yes. I remember you now. Lord Reginald or something.”
“Sir Ronald.”
“Uh huh. I don’t care. My dear fellow, you didn’t escape. You were so horribly bad at tormenting that it was embarrassing for the professionals. We . . . let you go.”
“You what?”
Leonard gritted his teeth and inched his hand toward his sword. Sir Ronald didn’t deserve to be treated so poorly. He was a kind and brave man who just happened to be not so good as an eternal tormentor of oath breakers. Who does this low-rate toady of a second tier deity think he is? thought Leonard just as his hand reached the hilt of his sword. He’s just being needlessly cruel.
“You were sacked. We told the oath-breaker to give you the idea of ‘escaping’ and, thank the gods you fell for it. Yet, here you are again.” Rat Face spun around to face his men. “Looks like this one couldn’t take a hint, eh boys?”
The warriors all laughed and cheered. Crestfallen, Sir Ronald turned his back on them and slowly sank into the ground.
“That’s it!” shouted Leonard as he drew his sword. “Take every one of those insults back, you sniveling wretch, or I’ll cleave you from skull to crotch.”