The Ring of Winter - James Lowder [61]
"What do you think the punishment is for murdering Batiri warriors?" Phyrra asked, nervously cleaning her glasses with the hem of her tunic.
The decor of the room they occupied suggested many gruesome possibilities. Like much of the goblin queen's two-story palace, the main motif here was human bones and animal skins, though this particular room was rife with skulls. The bleached relics of meals past grinned from the walls, the tables, and even the backs of chairs. Small and large, human and inhuman, they kept perpetual, sightless watch on the prisoners.
Kaverin chuckled bitterly. "Allowing Cimber to escape was the worst punishment they could have inflicted upon me, my dear." He gestured to Feg, and the winged monkey fanned him more fervently.
"He might be dead, you know."
That hopeful statement only turned Kaverin's mood more sour. "Impossible," he scoffed, "You heard the clatter from the pit. Did it sound to you as if that-that-thing the goblins worship simply chewed Cimber up? He was armed, for Cyric's sake! Could this Grumog succeed where I have failed, despite the efforts of six long years?"
The sorceress silently returned her attention to the Mulhorandi artifact she had taken from Artus, which still hung around Kaverin's neck. The medallion was very, very old and exceedingly interesting. She had added two more glyphs to the white damper surrounding the silver coin. Now Phyrra took up her charcoal one last time. "I've already broken the enchantment that made it impossible to remove the medallion, as well as the one limiting Skuld's servitude to moments when his master is in danger." She made two quick strokes. "This one will free him from his imprisonment. You'll have a sleepless guardian who never has to leave your side."
With a final cross of the charcoal stick, Phyrra completed the magical symbol. The white casing cracked, then flaked away. Silver light radiated from the medallion. The sorceress covered her eyes, but Kaverin found himself mesmerized. The tiny, four-armed figure on the front of the disk writhed in pain. It grew larger and larger, until it could barely crouch within the confines of the circular prison. The medallion warped and, finally, disappeared in a burst of energy.
When the spots cleared from Kaverin's eyes, he found Skuld standing before him. The Mulhorandi guardian spirit held Phyrra by the front of her blouse. "Your spell made me fail to protect my master, witch," Skuld rumbled. "For that you shall die."
"No," Kaverin said calmly. He dangled the twisted remnant of the medallion before him on its chain. "I, Kaverin Ebonhand, am your master now. Let the woman alone."
His silver eyebrows knit in consternation, Skuld dropped Phyrra unceremoniously to the floor. He planted two of his hands on his hips, rubbed his chin with another, and reached for the medallion with a fourth. Kaverin ducked out of the chain and handed it to him.
"Only the one who wears this has the right to control me" Skuld noted. "You relinquish that right so easily?"
"Of course not," said Kaverin smugly. "The glyphs the young lady added to the disk make you my slave, whether I wear the medallion or not. You must protect me and do my bidding… forever."
"Until you die," Skuld corrected. "I will be free when you die." He crushed the chain and the fragments of the silver medallion into a ball.
Kaverin smiled. "Then you will never be free. Moreover, you are going to help me find a ring that will make certain I don't ever have to see the Realm of the Dead again. First, though, we-"
The door to the room creaked open, and Queen M'bobo sauntered in. At her side was Balt, the leader of the Batiri warriors and her consort. While the queen's face showed little emotion, the veins on the general's neck were bulging with suppressed anger. Neither seemed particularly surprised to see Skuld, and they disregarded his presence with the unthinking bravado of royalty. Kaverin understood their confidence; the entire village would tear him to shreds if he harmed