There was, it occurred to me, one other option. As I thought of it, I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbing my face in my hands. It was nearly as bad as becoming a lich. Possibly worse.
But as I mulled over the possibilities, it was the only one that seemed likely to work.
.
Chapter 20
Galin
Carefully, I arranged the black candles in a small circle in the center of the room. Back in my lair in Cambridge, I’d had a whole box of them, but here in the Citadel, there were none. Instead, I’d jerry-rigged some table candles I’d stolen from the dining room and coated them with soot from the fireplace. Hopefully, that would work.
After the candles were placed into their positions, I sat in the center of the circle and propped a grimoire in front of me. With one hand, I flipped to the page of the summoning spell. With the other, I picked up a small iron dagger.
I drew a deep breath to center myself. I needed to cut my skin. This was the crucial step, but I didn’t know if I could do it. I could easily withstand the pain, but the Helm of Awe might stop me from hurting myself as a member of the royal family.
There was only one way to find out.
Quickly, I drew the blade of the dagger across my palm.
I gritted my teeth, waiting for a magical blast from the crown, but none came. Apparently hurting oneself was allowed.
Blood dripped between my fingers. Carefully, I began adding a few drops to the wick of each candle. Summoning magic still required a blot—an offering to the gods. Even when they were dead.
Once each candle had been fed with my blood, I said, “Kaun,” and lit them. As they guttered with bloody wax, I turned to the grimoire and began to incant the spell.
The flames slowly stilled, and the runes on my chest burned with light. When I spoke the last word of the spell, the candles blazed up around me, blinding me.
I blinked until my eyes adjusted.
Now, the candles surrounded me tightly, glowing like the eyes of wild animals. Beyond the ring, I could see nothing. My bed, my desk, my window had all been replaced by a stygian darkness. A black mist swirled around me like the ink of a giant squid.
The spell had worked. I remained seated as the candles continued to burn. At this point, I just had to wait.
Suddenly, the candles blazed brighter, now taking on a purplish hue. The temperature dropped, and my breath misted.
Slowly, a form appeared in the mist. A dark shape that hovered at the edges of my vision. Frost spread across the iron blade in my hand like icy spider webs. Slowly, the creature inched closer, pale eyes glowing in the darkness.
“Galin.” The shade spat my name like an insult. “Why have you summoned me?”
“I am here to make amends.”
“Amends? From you? You promised that you’d raise our queen from the dead. Yet she still rots on her throne.” The shade’s eyes flashed, and it hissed, “I see your soul enjoys the warmth of a living body, you dishonorable bastard.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
“It’s not? You dare suggest that I cannot see your golden hair or hear your beating heart? When we spoke last, you were dead—a lich—but now you are alive. You found the wand and used it to save yourself, but you did not honor your oath.”
“I am here to do that now.”
“And that is why you’ve confined yourself within a circle of power? I can smell the iron in the flames of your candles.” The shade inched closer, its voice icy. “Blow out the tapers so we can become properly reacquainted.”
“Not yet.”
“Then I have nothing to say to you.” The shade’s body began to fade, slipping back into the swirling mist.
“Ganglati, wait.”
The shade paused, his pale eyes fixing on me once again. “What did you call me?”
“Ganglati.”
“I haven’t heard that name in a thousand years.”
“But that is who you are, isn’t it? Ganglati, the lazy walker, chief manservant of Hela, Queen of the Dead?”
“My queen is dead. I serve no one.”
“I am here to make you an offer.”
“No. You fulfill your oath first.”
Negotiating with the shade was proving more difficult than I’d imagined. “That is my desire, but in order to fulfill my oath, I need your help.” I pointed at the Helm of Awe. “Levateinn was stolen from me. The one who took it bound this infernal crown to my head. If I move against him, its magic scalds my brain.”
The shade didn’t seem convinced. “I thought you were a powerful sorcerer.”
“This magic, I cannot break—at least not with the tools currently at my disposal. The helm imprisoned me, but if I were free of it, then it would be a simple thing for me to steal back the wand. If you take over my body, then for a short time at least, the helm could be broken. Temporarily deactivated, with you in control. Then we can do what we must. And once I have Levateinn, I can return to your lands and revive your goddess.”
Ganglati hovered just in front of the encircling candles. His eyes glowed bright in his shadowy form. “You will honor your oath, then?”
“Will you help me?”
The shade studied me, eyes shining in the darkness. “What do you propose?”
“Join forces with me. Help me steal the wand.”
Ganglati laughed icily. “Impossible. I am dead. You’ve seen the iron wall that confines me to Hel.” His eyes flashed. “Stop wasting my time. What you suggest is impossible.”
“It’s not impossible. Didn’t you just say that I am a powerful sorcerer?”
I licked the tip of my thumb and index finger, then extinguished the candle nearest to me. Frigid black mist began to rush into the circle of candles.
The shade’s eyes glowed brighter, like stars in the darkness.
I held his gaze as I spoke. “You see, the helm is bound to my body. Not to my soul. Step inside the circle and join me within this living body.” I touched my chest. “Together, we can defeat the helm and retrieve Levateinn. Then, I will raise your queen.”
Chapter 21
Ali
In the Citadel courtyard, a High Elf servant beckoned Thyra and me with a long finger. “Follow me. I will show you the way to your rooms.”
As we followed him into the Citadel, Thyra spoke quietly. “Ali, can I put you in charge of collecting the—” She leaned close, whispering.
“Yes, of course. Is it okay if I have Bo assist me? The stunning spell has worn off.”
“Whatever you need.”
“I’ll start tomorrow.”
The halls of the Citadel were dark, but the guard held a lantern, and it cast warm light over rough marble walls.
“Thyra,” I whispered. “You know about magic, right?”
“Some …” She replied noncommittally.
“What do you know about the Norns?” I asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “The Norns? Not very much. They cast our souls and weave our fates with the threads of Wyrd. They are said to live among the roots of Yggdrasill. But as far as I know, no elf has ever seen one.”