Last Life

Book 4: Chapter 26

I WAS WALKING THROUGH a strange spectral forest where nature and the unknown intertwined in a mysterious dance. At first, I thought it was a standard young pine forest with short trees of identical height growing in neat, even rows.

But the farther in I went, the more wide-branching giant trees I encountered, their trunks and branches overgrown with thick moss. In fact, upon closer inspection, there were a lot of strange aspects to the landscape. The leaves on the branches of the trees and bushes pulsated with strange colors: scarlet, blue, and gold, as if reflecting not only the light of the sun but also mysterious forces hidden somewhere deep within the roots. In some way, the ghost forest reminded me of what I’d seen beyond the Barrier, in the Shadow of the Wing of Strix.

Then, it hit me — it wasn’t the forest that was ghostly, it was me. My body disappeared. It turned into a wisp of fog, otherworldly and alien to this world.

I couldn’t totally understand what I was doing there. My thoughts faded together as if I’d been pumped full of nasty drugs. Something similar had happened to me in my past life. And now, I felt approximately the same way. Before I could get my thoughts together, they slipped away from me. So I had to simply concentrate on what was happening around me. And proceed deeper into the forest glade. I was drawn into it as if by a magnet. Or rather… It was more like a person’s call. And something in it was deeply familiar, reminding me of childhood.

Before too long, my journey through the eerie forest came to an end. I found myself in a small cozy meadow with a giant centuries-old oak towering in the center, thin rays of sunlight streaming through its twisted branches onto the green grass and bushes below. The light made the morning dew shimmer like little emeralds.

Among the thick roots of the oak, I spotted a small earth shelter. And sitting on a log by a little fire just outside its doorway, there was a little girl. A tidy ponytail with light green ribbons, little freckles sprinkled on a curved nose, a clever face — if not for the serious and grown-up look in her dark emerald eyes, which reflected centuries of wisdom, I’d have taken her for eleven or twelve years old.

She kept repeating an incantation to herself and throwing plants into the fire. I couldn’t smell or hear anything, but I knew for certain that the smoke from the fire and the incantation were the source of the uncanny force drawing my ghostly body to this place.

When I found myself ten steps from the fire, the girl shuddered and, raising her head, looked at me. I could immediately tell that she couldn’t see me, but she could sense me. Much to my surprise, I realized that I knew the girl seated before me. I recognized her sharp facial features. If my ghost body had a heart, it would have started beating faster out of joy.

It was Vadoma. Honestly though, she had been reborn in another body in a new world just like me. And based on the rubber boots and rain jacket made of water-proof synthetic material, it must have been a more advanced world than the one I’d been cast into.

Young Vadoma stood easily to her feet, walked around the fire, and came toward me. Stopping a step away, she raised a hand and, based on the movement of her lips, started to speak.

I had no way to respond. How could I? I had no mouth.

I first tried to concentrate on her lips, but either she was speaking some local language I was not familiar with, or my strange, clouded state made it hard to understand her.

Then something happened that would have made my nonexistent heart beat even faster. The young Vadoma addressed me in a sign language she’d taught me as a child. And most importantly — I was able to understand it despite my state.

“Son?” the redheaded girl asked me. “You came to my call after all.”

It was very strange to see Vadoma looking so young and at the same time grown-up and wise. My adoptive mother must have also been able to retain her memory after being reborn. Actually, was she somehow doing this all along? All her tales about ancient times and her witching grandmothers and great-grandmothers — were those just about her own adventures in other worlds? At the very least, it gave a new meaning to what she said before dying — that she’d spent too long in that world.

I first twitched. I tried to respond but there was no result…

“I can sense that you’re here but unable to respond,” she sighed and ran her thin child’s hand through the air right through where my chest would have been. Then, a satisfied smile appeared on her face, and her hands again flitted around like bird wings. “But that’s very good, son! It means you didn’t come from the world of the dead!”

Then she shuddered and, frowning, looked somewhere behind me. After that, her eyes again focused on the place where my ghostly body was hovering.

With quick gesticulation, she started:

“We don’t have much time, son! I violated the Law to summon you through my marker. Take caution! Someone is hunting you! I don’t know who He is, but you will have to remember everything I ever taught you! And now get out of here. You cannot stay here any longer or the fell shadows of this world will sense you!”

She stepped forward and pushed me sharply with two hands in the chest, then a moment later I opened my eyes and saw the familiar wooden ceiling of my room in the Copper Cauldron.

* * *

“After everything fell into place, the shapeshifters of Clan Moonwolf paid us a visit,” Jacques said with a sly smirk.

“And how’d it go?” I asked.

“We stuck them full of arrows,” Jacques replied. “Some we even ripped off their ears and tails.”

Meanwhile, Jacques slid a gaze over Sigurd, seated quietly at the table, a clear indication of who had torn off the ulfhednars’ ears and tails.

I glanced at my bodyguard and nodded gratefully. He just nodded back in silence.

Overall, I was grateful to everyone sitting at the table, which had been set by the owner of the Copper Cauldron in my room in honor of my miraculous recovery.

Now behind them sat Jacques, Lucas, Sigurd, Aelira, and Tom Davis. The sergeant, who was a newcomer to my now greatly expanded team, didn’t say much. And when he did speak, it was only when people spoke to him or asked him questions. He was still getting a feel for me and my bodyguards.

Jacques was essentially speaking for everyone, telling in detail everything that happened in Fjordgrad while I was in my strange dream wandering the spectral forest and talking to the much younger Vadoma. And it had been no more and no less than six full days.

In that time, much had happened in the capital of Vintervald. For example, Konung Harold followed Ivar the Raven to the next life along with most of his allies and inner circle. The death of his son and sole heir had clouded Konung Harold’s mind. Before I lost consciousness, I had seen the start of his attack on the Konung of Vintervald.

As I first guessed, Bjørn Sharptooth was playing his own game. I couldn’t yet understand all his moves, but some I had unraveled. For instance, I was pretty sure Bjørn was intentionally provoking Harold to do something stupid.

I figured Sharptooth was very pleased with the result. After all, it had all gone better than he could have expected. Harold attacked him during a ceasefire — the winner of the Great Trial had yet to be announced, after all.

And for the record, it was a while before everyone found out I’d survived. Strangely enough, everyone in the stands was focused on the bloodbath between the konungs, which spilled over onto the streets of the capital like a raging fire. For a few days, Fjordgrad bubbled with street fights between Konung Harold’s fighters and Sharptooth’s warriors along with those of the jarls he was friendly with. Beyond that, the ruler of the capital had the Blades of Dusk on his side.

As always happened in times of war, there was also some looting. Small groups of criminals took advantage of the chaos and broke into the homes of well-to-do city folks, stealing and murdering as they went. Overall, to some it was war, and to others it was a blessing.

The Copper Cauldron garnered attention from those groups a few times, but their attempts ended in disaster. First of all, Leif René’s tavern was practically a small fortress, and it was defended by an elite group of warriors. Sigurd could have taken on any of the groups by himself.

In the end, Bjørn Sharptooth came out on top of the pile. What was more, he forced the surviving leaders of the northern clans to swear allegiance to him. Not all of course… Many left the capital of Vintervald and probably spread the news of what happened along the way. Overall, the North was in for a long and protracted war.

But the first and most important step in unifying Northland under the Konung of Vintervald’s rule had been taken — he had eliminated the most dangerous and influential leaders. He was now heading for the lands of the late Konung Harold with a large warband to confirm his authority there. Princess Astrid meanwhile stayed behind in the city with Prince Louis, who thanks to my efforts was now legally engaged to Astrid. Heh… I could only imagine the look on his face when he found out I’d survived.

Sigurd, who pulled me out from under the dead shadow creature impaled on the cage bars, told me that everyone who saw my chest rising and falling couldn’t believe their eyes.

In my bodyguard’s words, I looked a fright. I was caked head to toe in blood. Honestly though, when they washed me off in the tavern, my people were surprised to see that there wasn’t a scratch on me. All the blood was from the bear. But naturally, nobody said anything about that.

My victory was yet again chalked up to the will of the gods. Supposedly, they had made it so a bit of mana was left in the bars of the cage, which had then pierced the monster’s heart as it slammed full force directly down onto the sharp ends. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

But overall, the konung’s conditions had been met. I was the only person still alive and thus prevailed in the Trial. Honestly though, I was no great hero to the northerners. In fact, they didn’t much care about what I’d done.

But that didn’t bother me much. What mattered was that I had upheld my end of the bargain with Astrid. Either today or tomorrow, I would drop by the palace to collect what was owed to me. Then I could go home. Enough of this northern crap. What was more, all my business here was finished.

“What about the priests and the frost knights?” I asked.

“As far as we’re aware, they did not take part in the fighting,” Jacques replied. “What’s more, there are rumors that they left the capital before the final Trial.”

“So they must have caught wind of Sharptooth’s preparations and hurried to leave,” Lucas suggested.

“Sounds like their style,” Sigurd spoke up. “The priests never take part in battles they know they’ll lose.”

“They waited to the last and figured out whose side things were tipping toward,” Jacques said comprehendingly. “They saw that the guild would not stand aside and left Harold to be torn to shreds.”

I had my own theory about all that. Most likely, Sharptooth was able to make an agreement with the priests of Hoar the Wicked. And meanwhile, he did it secretly so he wouldn’t lose the support of the jarls waging war against the Frost Temple.

Beyond that, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn the priests had gotten promises and guarantees of some kind from Sharptooth and gone to the lands of the late Harold to prepare their flock for the new ruler. Astrid’s father was pursuing his ends come what may. A true politician, sly and cold-blooded.

I also suspected that Pierce Butler and Minna the Flame’s employers had gotten expensive gifts from Sharptooth. They’d probably made some deal that was beneficial to all of them, too. The Dukes Arcedekne and Carinthia after all had not personally fought in the duels. Sure, they didn’t win the main prize and lost powerful strykers, but in the end, they probably made out good. If they weren’t fools, of course.

While my people traded theories and opinions, I yet again returned to my thoughts about the realistic dream. What or rather who was Vadoma trying to warn me about? That it was a very dangerous and powerful enemy I never doubted even for a second. My adoptive mother was even able to sense it from another world and another body.

I didn’t suspect her witching mark, which had been woven into my energy system, was capable of such a thing. That meant Vadoma was much more powerful than I imagined.

I sighed. I felt sorry the mark had disappeared. It was a tiny memento that bound me with my former life. A warm reminder of my mother who, as it turned out, was looking after me even from another world.

“That Sharptooth’s a clever one,” Jacques snorted, summing up his opinion, then added while looking at me: “And he’s real tight-fisted.”

Everyone agreed heartily.

They were talking about the body of the shadow bear, from which I was given a pelt, half-empty bruts, fangs, and claws. Everything else Sharptooth kept for himself, clearly thinking those trophies would suffice for me.

“And there was still a lot of interesting stuff,” Jacques continued. “Like the liver, which I saw the court alchemist licking his lips over.”

“Or the skeleton,” Lucas supported. “There were enough bones there to make a full set of stryker armor.”

Oh well. Just wait until I’ve gotten into Astrid’s treasure chamber. I would make sure I was fairly compensated.

As for Konung Sharptooth… His debt to me had only grown slightly. The time would come for him to pay it all back in full measure.

* * *

Three days later, with Sigurd and Tom Davis’s five fighters escorting me, I came back to the Copper Cauldron after a visit to the palace. And in my bag was my payment for taking part in the tournament.

Konung Sharptooth’s daughter had kept her word. She took me to the crypt of the Pearl of the North, the royal palace, and let me into her treasure chamber after kind-heartedly announcing that it was at my full disposal and that I could take any three items I liked.

Right at the front door, I was greeted by a set of plump barrels filled to the brim with gold and silver coins, fancy boxes and chests with large gemstones, gold, and silver dishware.

The princess told me right away with a flattering smile that one of those barrels or chests would count as one item. I assumed all that was intentionally set out in the front to tempt the poor chevalier.

But I thanked the princess and told her that I had come for artifacts from the Svartvald.

She gave an understanding nod and led me deep into the treasure chamber, which was quite an impressive size. At the time, I thought that even if Sharptooth didn’t want to support Astrid in her fight to gain the throne of Vestonia, his daughter had enough wealth to hire a sizeable army all on her own.

After passing by shelves and cases full of various dishware, armor suits and weaponry, we made it to a small door behind which was another small room. When we came inside, I quickly sensed powerful magic emanations.

Hrm… When I thought back on the artifacts stored there, I felt a chill run down my spine. There I saw colorful magic elixirs, pieces of ore of some kind, pulsating with internal mana, pelts and bones from shadow monsters, weapons, and armor for strykers, and bruts of all colors. A few of them were as big as both of my hands together. There was also dishware, jewelry, statuettes, furniture, and a lot of other stuff. Meanwhile, all of it radiated magic energy. I suspected that the most valuable of it had been frittered away in advance of my visit, but even still the abundance of artifacts I did not know the purpose of was dazzling.

To guess where it was all from wasn’t particularly difficult — all the items had once belonged to beings from beyond the Barrier. Konung Sharptooth’s strykers must have looted a village or, more likely, a whole city of the northern compatriots of the Lao. Based on the items, they were more developed as well. And as far as I knew, that had never happened before.

Wandering between the shelves for a bit and giving everything a careful scan, I picked out three artifacts. For the record, my choices surprised the princess. Or rather, when I took the two largest bruts — lilac and crimson — that made sense. The crystals were the size of my two fists and filled to the brim with mana. But my third choice surprised Astrid to no end.

She clearly was not expecting me to pick a little statuette made of black stone in the shape of a fox ready to attack, passing over the other big bruts and magic weapons. Whoever was sent to put away the most valuable things must not have been aware of what they had.

When I saw the black fox crouching low with a grin, it was very hard to keep my composure. Particularly when I looked inside the statuette in true vision and saw very weak golden magical flickers. That was why I made such predictable choices for the first two — picking the two largest bruts. And then, with a dispassionate voice, I announced that I’d like a keepsake to remind me of my partnership with Astrid. For instance, this cute little fox figurine. Astrid seemed to like my explanation.

As I guessed, after we came back upstairs, Sharptooth’s daughter started telling me again about the duty of every noble, which consisted in supporting her future husband Prince Louis, who now due to his father’s illness was in quite a tough position.

By the way, Jean-Louis, who I’d met with recently, was very glad to see me in good health. He congratulated me on the victory, then with a sour face told me that I had fallen into disfavor with His Highness. And that I was permitted to leave the embassy. Oh well, it was completely expected and totally fine with me.

In the end, Astrid asked me to do her one more favor. To take her letter to Heinrich de Gramont and the Duchess du Bellay. Extending me scrolls sealed with magic wax, the princess told me that they were invitations for my uncle and aunt to her and Prince Louis’ wedding, which would be taking place in the capital of Vintervald.

Astrid also added that she would be glad to hold a wedding in Herouxville, but while her father was fighting in the north, she could not leave Fjordgrad. Essentially, the vivacious princess had placed her little hand on Prince Louis, and a stryker’s blade could appear in it at any time.

For the record, she didn’t say a word about her father or what he’d done. As if it was nothing. Although I remembered perfectly well the way she looked at Sharptooth on the day the caged shadow bear appeared in the arena.

Before saying goodbye to Astrid, I asked her to send my best regards to her cousin. Because Helga had gone north along with the konung’s warband.

When I mentioned her cousin, Princess Astrid looked at me oddly and promised to fulfill my request. Honestly though, I saw that she wanted to tell me something but clearly could not make up her mind.

It was around lunch time when we reached the Copper Cauldron. It was to be our final lunch together. Tomorrow we would be back on the road. Returning to Vestonia.

While Leif set the festive table, I went up to my rooms, where Bertrand was busy packing up.

When I made it to my room, I heard him give a surprised and at the same time joyful outburst:

“Aha! There it is! And here I thought it had gone missing!”

“What is it, old fellow?” I asked in the meantime, without much interest. I couldn’t wait to take a closer look at the black statuette.

I heard footsteps, and in the doorway appeared a smiling Bertrand holding the little pot which the nisse had held onto so faithfully.

“Your Worship, I found it,” a happy smile lit up Bertrand’s face. “I looked everywhere. And I just couldn’t find it. I didn’t know what to think.”

Frowning, I quickly walked over to Bertrand and opened the top of the pot. Atop the gold and silver coin of an old minting, the old amulet lay looking forlorn. But the crimson brut in it was missing. I quickly scanned the contents of the pot and noticed a barely visible dust giving off a faint magical emanation.

Annoying… So the brut hadn’t lasted long and the nisse was left without energy. That meant she would die soon. She was aware, and yet she brought back the treasure from her late master.

“Show me exactly where you found it,” I asked Bertrand and together we went into another room.

“Right here,” the old man pointed at a corner next to an open window.

I crouched down and, while Bertrand looked on baffled, inspected the floor closely. But alas, the nisse had left no trace. And no wonder. They were creatures with a great ability to go undetected. But still I had a clue. Nisse lived in attics.

Leaving my room to the corridor, while two of Tom Davis’ ten troops guarding my room looked on in surprise, I quickly went to the ladder leading to the tavern attic.

Ordering them not to come looking for me, I went up and, switching to true vision, started searching. Among the old furniture, bales of rags and other trash, I finally discovered what I was searching for.

The nisse, curled up in a ball, was lying on the bottom of an old box. Her pale little face was sunken, and beneath her eyes were dark shadows, her animal ears pressed down against her head.

The nisse opened her eyes, revealing suffering and raised her head.

“So, fox, you came to finish me off after all?” she asked without a shadow of humor.

“Do you wish to die?” I asked.

“What good is a life such as this to me?” She responded with a question. “I no longer have a master; I was not able to safeguard her belongings… And without the power that was stored in the amulet, I have no way to survive.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” I said, sitting down next to the box and putting my arms around my knees. “The fact your master died is not your fault. And okay… You said yourself that I am powerful. You tried to stop me, but it didn’t work. And as for the amulet and the power stored within… It’s no great trouble. I’m sure we can think up something.”

“So, you really want to call me to serve you, spellsword?” the nisse lit up and propped herself on her elbow. A spark of hope lit up in her eyes. She really was a different type of being. There was nothing false in the nisse.

“Hey, why not?” I said. “I need servants like you. Especially considering how much stuff I have. It all needs constant supervision.”

“I saw,” the nisse laughed. “You really do have a lot of stuff. A bit more than my master. Your old servant is loyal to you, but he can’t keep an eye on everything.”

“So you see,” I agreed. I also made a note to myself. The nisse was aware of everything happening in my temporary residence, and yet never once made herself known. “What’s more, this is only a small portion of my property.”

“Woah!” the nisse exclaimed and sat down. “And your house — is it big?”

“I’ve got two,” I smiled. “One of them is a castle. Now you see why I need a helper like you. Jumping ahead, I can say you won’t have any energy problems.”

“I can see,” the nisse nodded directly at my reservoir. “You are powerful, and your energy is pure, without a drop of darkness.”

“Then do we have an agreement?” I asked and extended her a hand.

“We do,” the nisse nodded and boldly reached out for my pointer finger.

A moment later, I felt a little ball of my energy slide into the nisse’s nearly empty reservoir. My new helper’s pale cheeks took on a healthy glow. She closed her eyes and, filling her lungs with air, breathed out.

“So nice!” she squeaked and looked happily at me.

After that, hopping to her knees, she suddenly transformed into a raccoon with fur that no longer looked so mangy and disheveled. After that, the nisse reappeared.

“Woah!” she exclaimed. “So much power! I haven’t felt like this in a long time!”

I just chuckled internally. It was just a little bit.

“Excellent,” I chuckled and stood to my feet. “And now, let’s go eat. We have to gather our strength. Tomorrow morning, we’re heading home. By the way, do you have a name?”

“Don’t worry about feeding me, master,” the nisse waved it off. “I won’t go hungry. And the name’s Itta.”

“I’m Max.”

“I know…”

* * *

After the celebratory dinner, I went up to my room, got in bed and tried to fall asleep. But, as luck would have it, sleep did not come. I turned onto one side, then the other. The inexplicable panic I’d been feeling since I woke up that morning kept growing stronger and stronger. And now I was tossing in bed and unable to shake the strange trembling that always came over me before a fight.

I opened my eyes and stared at the dark ceiling. It was quiet all around. None of the tavern rustling or skittering of mice in the floorboards. Even the city outside was completely quiet. Though the port never quieted down for a second. There was always something going on out there.

I lay there for a bit and shut my eyes. And right then, my ears detected a quiet rustling. At first, I got tense, but then I realized it was the nisse. Now we had an energy bond. We could sense one another. The headboard of the bed swayed and I heard Itta clambering quietly up.

“Master,” she whispered to me in agitation. “There’s a shade here. I can sense him. Over there, in the far corner. He was preparing. He’s about to strike.”

So there was the explanation for what had been going on with me for the last few days. This must have been what Vadoma was warning me about.

Hm… A shade. That was what they called evil spirits that supposedly came from the Shadow.

Vadoma had told me in my dream to remember everything she’d taught me and forced me to learn by rote. She must have meant the incantations against evil spirits which, truthfully, I had never used before because I didn’t believe in spirits.

Whispering to myself Spectral Shroud, one of the incantations my adoptive mother was most fond of, I turned to look at the far corner.

As soon as I did, a black silhouette separated from it and came flying my way without the slightest sound. Itta squeaked and pressed herself up against me. I distantly noted that she did not run and stayed with me.

Quickly hopping up in bed, I shouted the last words of the incantation and reinforced them with large masses of energy. Before me then appeared an opaque wall, which the black figure slammed into full speed.

“Y-y-you!” the shade hissed. The sound of his voice sent a chill down my spine. “You have taken something that does not belong to you! My Sovereign is aware of you now! He’s coming for you!”

Before I could respond, the black figure again raced forward and, running into the ghostly barrier, blasted into hundreds of dark opaque shards. An instant later, they all dissolved into thin air.

“He’s gone,” the nisse said and breathed a sigh of relief.

I, breathing heavily as if I’d just run a great distance, got down in bed and ran a hand over my damp forehead. I thought I knew who the creature’s sovereign was, and what I had taken from him.

“Okay,” I rasped out. “Tomorrow, we leave for home at dawn. Enough of this northern crap.”