Ivy League Illusion, Part 11
The Long Way Back
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I had no idea how long I lay on the floor of the illusionary library, engulfed in agony. I knew I couldn’t afford to be incapacitated for very long, but I was powerless against the pain burning through my mind, wave after wave.
Was this agony a final line of defense against recovering my memories, or was it somehow part of the process of recovering them? I only wished I knew. I didn’t think that I’d gotten any memories back yet, though it was hard to tell in a state of endless torture.
“Stop screaming!” commanded a voice that might have been real Nidhoggson’s. “You’re creating psychic disturbances that will make us easier to track.”
He still hadn’t reached me in the maze. Not that it would have mattered. I could do nothing to stop him.
“Stop it!” Nidhoggson repeated. I hadn’t even been aware I was screaming, but that didn’t matter, either. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
“You’re losing your mind,” said my inner dragon, his tone more reflective than before. But he didn’t offer any help. Probably, he had none to give.
“Would it not be better to be our captive once more?” asked a new voice, just as cold as Nidhoggson’s but more calm and calculating—one of the dark alfar, no doubt.
“No!” roared Nidhoggson. The dark elf had been talking to him, not me.
“Why do you fight us? We are on the same side. Cooperate, and we can free you of Max Murphy forever.”
“You lie,” replied my inner dragon. Following the sound of his voice, I realized that I didn’t feel my mental pain as much if I opened myself to my body’s senses. That suggested the torture was linked to being in close proximity to my memories. Maybe I could find a different way to approach them.
Nidhoggson was still in the underground tunnels, which meant he’d had no luck in finding an exit. The elves could move more or less silently, but his acute hearing could detect their whispering footsteps as they drew closer.
“You need me,” I said to Nidhoggson. “You need me for sunlight.”
Nidhoggson didn’t like sunlight himself, but I doubted he had a better idea than to use it to fend off our pursuers. “I will give you limited access to the body, but if you betray me, you will pay for it.”
“I will help us stop our common enemy,” I said. I meant that, too—but that wasn’t the only thing I intended to do.
As soon as I could feel my hands, I drew Sowilo and lit up the hallway with its radiance. With the other hand, I drew Ior merkstave, forcing its power into me. Nidhoggson roared and tried to tear control of my body away from me again.
But this time, I was ready. Dropping Sowilo for the moment, I invoked the power of Thurisaz, making myself stronger, more able to resist Nidhoggson’s influence.
“Stop trying to regain control—or you will pay the price.” To underscore my point, I increased the power I was channeling through the serpent rune. I could feel Nidhoggson’s cold fury inside me. Weakened as he was, I sense that he was preparing to attack me. I couldn’t afford the time it would take for me to fight him again.
I laid down my staff for a moment, stripped off the protective gloves, picked it up again. As I expected, the wood burned Nidhoggson’s scaly claw. Its magic was incompatible with his own. Despite the pain, I felt stronger, even more able to resist him. He was forced to pull back, hide deeper within me. As he retreated, my body reverted to human.
The chains immediately felt heavier upon my shoulders. But at least for the moment, I was free.
The situation was complicated, though. I needed Ior to ensure that Nidhoggson didn’t try to take over. I needed Sowilo to deter the dark alfar. I needed Thurisaz to be strong enough to maneuver with chains weighing me down. Ideally, I should have the Helm of Awe up to protect myself from things like elven arrows.
That was far more multitasking that I was able to do—unless perhaps my memories would help. But I didn’t know how to reach them without incapacitating myself with pain.
I had friends and allies, but they must have known I was missing long ago, and they hadn’t found me yet. Maybe they couldn’t on a different plane of existence.
Yet they had before. Marriage bond, blood bonds, the bond between the Yggdrasil wood in my staff and the original tree—if I could broadcast powerfully enough, I ought to be able to reach someone. But how could I do that? I didn’t know.
Nidhoggson didn’t offer any suggestions. I doubted he’d help again, at least not while I kept him away from any kind of control. But the staff felt almost sentient in my hands. I examined it, studying the runes painted on it in Freya’s blood.
“Give me a sign,” I said. I wasn’t necessarily expecting an answer, but after all, I was trapped on some kind of vampire-friendly plane of existence with elves and dwarves, and I held a piece of the World Tree in my hands. If I thought about it, it would be foolish not to try.
A rune flashed momentarily, and I knew its name—Ansuz. It looked like an F with the two sidebars bent toward the ground. Trying to hold on to Ior and Thurisaz, I drew the third rune in the air. The moment it became active, I felt the staff, my ring finger, and even my blood throb in sympathy with the rune’s pulsations.
“HELP ME!” I yelled, forcing as much power as I could into Ansuz. In the process, I took too much power from the other two runes, which faded away, but if I could get through to anyone clearly enough so that they could tell where I was, it would be worth it.
I thought I felt a response, but it was faint.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” asked an unfamiliar voice. I looked or the speaker and quickly found him—a dark elf, tall, shadowy, and sinister. He must have kept his power muffled somehow as he approached, but now it burned with the intensity of a dark sun. He flung Ansuz merkstave at me, breaking any connection I’d established.
Ivy League Illusion is related to the Different Dragons series. (The action falls after the end of the third book.)
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Come on, Max!