“Look, I know you want a role for yourself, but getting eaten by draugr is not the one I had in mind.”
Barthol’s jaw tightened. “Can I have a role on the council then?”
I shook my head. “You’re my brother, it will be nepotism if I put you on the council.”
“Harald and Sigre are brother and sister representatives.”
“Yes, that is true, but they’re High Elves, and you’re a Night Elf. We need Vanir to represent the Vanir. Obviously.”
“They trust me to scout for them,” he said irritably, picking up his pace toward the council hall.
“Barthol.” I hurried to catch up. “I’m the Empress, and I have to lead in a way that builds trust.”
“And I’m your humble servant.” He opened the door, giving me an exaggerated bow.
“Please do not be melodramatic right now. You’re embarrassing me, as usual,” I muttered.
I stepped into the council chamber, a large room with a heavy oak table in the center and a large fireplace at the far end. Swegde sat at the table, drinking wine with the Night Elves—Bo, and Lynheid.
Barthol dropped into one of the chairs by the fire, sulking.
Ignoring him, I turned to one of the Vanir guards at the door. “Can you see that Barthol gets something to eat and drink?” I said quietly. “He’s had a very long day.”
The guard nodded and slipped into the hall.
As I crossed to the council table, Bo straightened. “What’s this all about?”
“When Harald and Sigre arrive I will explain everything.”
Bo yawned, rubbing his eyes. “It had better be important. I was sleeping.”
“It is, trust me.”
I sat, but only briefly, as Harald and Sigre pushed open the door a minute later. Even though I saw them frequently now, I couldn’t help but stare. It was nearly three in the morning, but both were immaculately dressed, in black velvet robes that shimmered slightly in the firelight. While King Gorm had been flamboyant, with an obsession with food and gold, these elves were considerably more austere.
Harald was an unusually tall elf, thin and narrow, like he’d been born small and subsequently stretched out on a rack. Sigre had pale gold hair that she wore in a tight bun on the top of her head. While not as tall as her brother, she had long arms and legs, which made her look a bit like an insect.
From the other side of the table, she stared at me with narrowed eyes. A praying mantis, I decided. If I turned my back I was certain she would try to bite my head off.
“It appears we now have a quorum,” said Bo. “What is so important you needed to rouse me out of a dream about my harem?”
Bo had become a thorn in my side. And of course he had—even if we’d been in prison together, he’d never forgiven me for threatening his life. And now, he looked absolutely ridiculous with his slicked-down hair and black suit—full of self-importance.
“One of my scouts—”
“Your brother, you mean,” Bo grumbled.
Gods, this man clearly needed a solid eight hours of shut-eye.
“Bo, why don’t you drink some of this nice wine? You are clearly cranky.” Everyone was cranky.
“Don’t patronize me Ali—”
I leaned forward, meeting his gaze. “Don’t patronize me Empress. And I would not have woken you up unless it was deadly important. Barthol has returned from a scouting mission. He’s brought with him urgent news you all need to hear.” I gestured to Barthol, indicating he should speak.
Barthol rose from his chair by the fire. He rubbed a hand across his face, looking absolutely exhausted. “I just returned from the western plains.”
“On your own?” Bo said sharply.
“There were three of us—”
“Then where are the other two?”
“Dead. I will explain if you let me speak, Bo.”
Bo smoothed his slick hair. “All right. Tell us what happened.”
“We traveled west for two days, but then the draugr became too numerous to continue.” Barthol drew in a deep breath. “We rode until we reached the Sapphire Hills. When we climbed to the top, we saw a great horde of draugr gathering, hundreds of thousands of them, grunting and calling.”
“How do you know they were draugr and not elves or men?” said Bo.
Barthol’s throat bobbed. “Well, for one thing they ate the elves and horses I was with.”
“All right.” Bo’s voice cracked. “So we’ll send an army to fight them. The creatures aren’t intelligent.”
“If I may speak,” Harald cut in, “part of Boston is overrun with draugr. We’ve been sending soldiers armed with torches to burn them for years, but we’ve only succeeded in losing men.”
“What have you heard from the Shadow Caverns?” Sigre asked. “Our spies have all gone silent.”
“Your spies?” snapped Bo. “What are you doing spying on Night Elves when we are allied?”
“Bo,” I snarled. “Just answer her question.”
Bo crossed his arms over his chest, but he answered Sigre. “The Shadow Caverns have gone silent. I’ve sent a number of messengers, but none of them have returned.”
I raised my hands. “It is clear we have a serious draugr problem. Both here in Vanaheim and possibly in the Shadow Caverns too. I brought you all here, not because I wanted you to fight with each other, but because I wanted to develop a plan to fight the undead. Does anyone have any suggestions?”
The table fell silent, and Bo glared at the High Elves.
At last Swegde leaned forward. “We need to join forces and defend ourselves. Together we might stand a chance. Fighting alone, we’ll all be overrun. We need to pick a single defensible position, one that the draugr can’t easily penetrate.”
“The Citadel,” said Harald.
I nodded. The Citadel had kept Marroc caged for a thousand years, it could keep the draugr out.
When I thought of him, I felt as if my heart were twisting, and I could no longer focus.
“The Citadel,” I repeated, thinking of how Marroc had looked when I first met him.
“Then it’s decided.” Harald stood.
“Actually I was thinking of the temple,” said Swegde. “The city walls can easily hold all three tribes of elves. The Citadel is already surrounded by bloodthirsty draugr, as you have mentioned, Harald. Our temple is not.”
Of course, that made sense. And I would have thought of it if I hadn’t been distracted by thinking of Galin—Marroc as he’d been known then. This was why Swegde was right: to be an effective leader, you couldn’t let your emotions rule you. You had to smother them, or people would die.
I cleared my throat. “Of course. Good point. I suggest we plan to relocate our tribes here. But then we need to figure out what to do about the draugr.”
Swegde frowned. “We’ll fight them.”
“Right,” said Bo, “but for how long? Months? Years? If we want to defeat them we’ll need to learn where they’re coming from, and why there are so many.”
Swegde shrugged. “There’ll be time for that. For now we try to kill as many of them as possible.”
“No,” I said. “Bo has a point. Just killing the draugr may not be enough to defeat them. We should find out where they’re coming from, or they may not stop.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes to try to think clearly. “We can’t cross the western plains. There were too many of them. But there has got to be a way …”