BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 54

The gates of Kvellholl stood open before them. The morning light spilled in from the exterior passages, bright and welcoming after their time in the mountain's depths.

Einar stood at the front of his pack, watching as the last of their wagons were loaded. They had more supplies than when they arrived, more weapons, more armor, more materials for runes than he had dared hope for. The dwarves had been generous in their gratitude.

Vrádni approached, his patrol of twenty warriors forming up behind him. The ranger captain looked ready for a fight, as he always did.

"My warriors will escort you to the border," he said. "Beyond that, you are on your own."

"We are grateful for the protection," Einar replied.

"Do not be grateful yet. The tunnels between here and Mighahm have been quiet lately." His expression darkened. "Too quiet. We have received reports of movement in some of the deeper passages. Nothing confirmed, but the patrols have found signs."

"What kind of signs?"

"Tracks. Something large. Maybe more than one." He met his gaze steadily. "We do not know what made them. But something knows you are here, and something knows you are leaving."

Einar felt a chill that had nothing to do with the mountain air. Word of their treasure would have spread. Word of what they had accomplished. In a realm where creatures lurked in every shadow, that kind of attention was dangerous.

"We will be ready," he said.

"See that you are." Vrádni turned to address his warriors, barking orders in the dwarven tongue.

Avitue appeared at Einar's side, her new dwarven sword hanging at her hip. The blade had been delivered that morning, and she had not stopped touching the hilt since. "Trouble?" she asked.

"Maybe. Something in the tunnels. They do not know what."

"Of course there is." She sighed, but there was a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Would not be a proper journey home without something trying to kill us."

"That is what worries me. We have had too much luck lately. The gods have been generous. I keep waiting for the other boot to drop."

"Then we will deal with it when it does." She squeezed his arm. "We always do."

He covered her hand with his own, taking a moment of comfort in her presence. Then he straightened and raised his voice so the pack could hear.

"Move out! We have a long road ahead and people waiting for us at the end of it. Stay alert, stay together, and remember what we are bringing home. The work we did here will change everything."

Cheers went up from the Vikings. Weapons were checked. Wagons began to roll. And slowly, the caravan moved through the gates of Kvellholl and into the tunnels beyond.

***

The tunnels between Kvellholl and Mighahm looked the same since they had run through them. None of the corpses Einar had wondered about were still there, all traces of the trolls he had killed were gone. The ceilings rose thirty feet above them, carved smooth and reinforced with pillars of stone. Runic lights glowed at regular intervals, providing steady illumination that made torches unnecessary.

But even the finest roads could hide danger. And as the hours passed and the caravan moved deeper into the mountain, Einar found himself watching the shadows more closely.

"There," Vrádni said quietly, pointing to the tunnel floor.

Einar dismounted and crouched beside him. In the dust that coated the stone, there were tracks. Large ones. Clawed feet that must have belonged to something at least twice his size, maybe larger.

"These are fresh," Vrádni said. "Made within the last day. Maybe less."

"What made them?"

"I do not know." The ranger's jaw tightened. "That is what concerns me. I have tracked every creature in these tunnels for over a century. These tracks do not match anything I have seen before."

Thorodd had joined them, studying the prints with a warrior's eye. "They lead that direction." He pointed down a side passage that branched off from the main tunnel. "Toward the deeper sections."

"Good," Vrádni said. "That is not our path."

"But they came from somewhere," Einar said. "And they went somewhere. Which means they are still out there. Watching, perhaps."

No one had an answer for that.

They continued on, but the mood had shifted. Warriors who had been laughing and talking fell silent. Hands rested on weapons. Eyes scanned the darkness beyond the reach of the runic lights.

An hour later, they found more tracks. Different ones this time. Smaller, but numerous. Dozens of creatures, maybe more, are moving in the same direction as the first set.

"Something is gathering them," Vrádni said, his voice low. "Something large enough to command smaller creatures. That is not typical behavior for anything that lives in these tunnels."

"The Broker," Einar said.

He looked at him, confused. "What?"

"When we dealt with the bandits on the caravan route, we learned of a network. Someone called the Broker, organizing creatures and criminals across the realm. Hiring them. Directing them." He gestured at the tracks. "This could be more of the same."

"I have heard rumors of such a network," Vrádni admitted. "But I did not think it extended this far. These tunnels are supposed to be secure."

"Nothing is secure when there is enough gold involved."

They moved on, faster now. The wagons creaked and groaned as the drivers pushed the horses harder. Every side passage was watched. Every shadow treated as a potential threat.

But nothing attacked. Nothing emerged from the darkness to challenge them. The tracks continued to appear, evidence of movement, of presence, of something out there that knew they were passing through. But whatever it was, it kept its distance.

"It is watching us," Skardi said during a brief rest stop. He was sitting on his wagon, one hand resting on the fire giant skull that he still refused to let out of arm's reach. "Seeing what we have. Counting our numbers."

"Then why not attack?" Jepi asked.

"Because the dwarven escort is too strong. Twenty of Vrádni's rangers, plus all of us? That is not an easy target." Skardi spat into the dust. "But once we pass the border, once the escort turns back..."

He did not need to finish the thought.

"Then we stay alert," Einar said. "And we do not give them an opportunity. When we reach Mighahm, we will be among friends again. And from there, it is a clear path to the portal."

"Unless they follow us to Midgard," Thorodd said quietly.

Einar had no answer for that.

***

They camped that night in a wide section of the tunnel that had clearly been used as a waystation before. Stone platforms provided level ground for bedrolls. A cistern collected water that seeped through the rock above. Fire pits showed the char of countless previous camps.

But there was something wrong with the cistern.

Thorve was the first to notice, crouching beside it with a frown. "The water is fouled."

Einar joined her, looking into the stone basin. The water was dark, tinted with something that might have been rust or might have been blood. A faint smell rose from it, metallic and wrong.

"Deliberate?" he asked.

"I cannot say. But I would not drink from it. We have enough in our stores to last until Mighahm."

Vrádni examined the cistern as well, his expression grim. "This water was clean two weeks ago. My patrol used this station on the way to Kvellholl." He dipped a finger in, sniffed it, and grimaced. "Something died in the source. Or was killed and left there."

"A message," Avitue said.

Everyone looked at her.

"They knew we would stop here. They fouled the water so we would know they could reach us, and that they could hurt us. But they chose not to." Her green eyes were hard. "Not yet."

"Then what are they waiting for?"

"For us to leave the dwarven realm," Einar said, the realization settling into his gut like a stone. "Whatever is watching us, it will not attack here. It will wait until we cross back into Midgard. Until we are on our own."

The camp was quiet that night. Sentries were doubled. Sleep came reluctantly and brought dreams of shadows moving in darkness, of clawed feet tracking them through endless stone corridors.

In the morning, they found more tracks. These ones circled the camp. Whatever had made them had come within a hundred yards of where they slept, close enough to count them, close enough to strike if it had chosen to.

But it had not chosen to.

"Move out," Einar ordered. "Fast as we can manage. I want to be in Mighahm by nightfall."

No one argued.

***

The border marker appeared late in the afternoon, a massive stone pillar carved with the sigil of the High King. Beyond it, the tunnel continued toward Mighahm, but this was as far as Vrádni's escort would go.

"We part ways here," the ranger captain said, bringing his patrol to a halt. "From this point, you are in Mighahm's territory. Gromm Mosswalker will see you safe to the outpost."

"Thank you for the escort," Einar said. "And for the warning about the tracks. We will be careful."

"Be more than careful." Vrádni stepped closer, lowering his voice so only he could hear. "Whatever is following you, it is patient. It is organized. And it knows exactly what you are carrying. Do not assume you are safe just because you reach Midgard. Something that patient does not give up easily."

"I understand."

"Do you?" He studied Einar's face for a moment, then nodded. "Perhaps you do. You are not like other Vikings I have met, Einar Sibbison. You think before you act. That will serve you well in the days ahead."

He clasped Einar's forearm in the warrior's grip, and he returned it.

"When you return to the dwarven realm," he said, "seek me out. We will share a drink and you can tell me how you dealt with whatever is hunting you."

"I will hold you to that."

Vrádni released Einar's arm and turned to his patrol, barking orders. Within minutes, the dwarven warriors had formed up and begun their march back toward Kvellholl, their armor glinting in the runic light until they disappeared around a bend in the tunnel.

And then the Vikings were alone.

"Everyone stay sharp," Einar said. "We are in friendly territory, but we are not safe. Not until we are back in Midgard with walls around us."

The caravan moved on, smaller now without the dwarven escort, more vulnerable. The tunnel stretched ahead of them, the runic lights marking the path to Mighahm and whatever waited beyond.

Behind them, in the shadows, something watched.

Einar could feel it. Could sense eyes on his back, tracking every step. Whatever was out there, it was biding its time.

But time was something he intended to use as well.

The dwarven alliance was secured. His rune was upgraded. His warriors were healed and stronger than ever. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

And if something wanted to test them on the road home, Einar would make sure it regretted the attempt.

"Let us move," he said. "Mighahm awaits."