Free A Hero's Throne (An Ancient Earth) by Ross Lawhead

there to abuse or issue instructions to one of his minions. He was not attended or, apparently, guarded in any way. How lazy had Kelm become, resting on his laurels? Overconfidence would be his downfall.
    Kelm turned a corner and stumbled on a prone yfelgóp who was lazing against a wall. Daniel imagined that the victim’s leg must have certainly snapped, but he leapt up pretty quickly anyway.
    The war chief passed out of his sight, and Daniel moved across to the next window, just in time to see him enter one of the few buildings in the city left whole. He stayed in there for some time and didn’t come out all the time that Daniel watched it.
    The hours passed. Daniel kept his eyes trained on the hut. He became hungry and ate from his provisions. He was aware of Freya and Vivienne moving around in the tower, but he didn’t go to speak to them, and they didn’t come to see him.
    He fought tiredness. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately—not at all, in fact. Not since he got back from Elfland. The last week or so, just as he’d been on the edge of sleep, he would feel a sudden terror and an abrupt feeling of plunging. Each time he jerked himself awake—once nearly falling out of his bed. He would lay awake, panting, in a sweat, gripping the mattress through the sheets, counting the minutes until morning.
    Suddenly, Daniel tensed. He threw his arms out to brace himself against the edge of the windowsill. For a second he thought that he had fallen through it and was plummeting to his death. But the glass was still in front of him. His forehead hadn’t eventouched it. Just thinking about sleep made him tired enough to drift off.
    He’d sleep when he was finished with the mission. It was all side effects of the anxiety of the situation, no doubt. Either that, or something mystical that would guide him toward completion of his new mission. Either way, it was good.
    Daniel wondered why there were so few yfelgópes below him. The city should be flooded. But they were only scattered here and there, in clumps or singly. Where were the rest of them? Did the knights really kill as many as Frithfroth claimed, or were they off somewhere else?
    Well, it wasn’t his problem now, and Daniel was tired of waiting. He had enough information. Now he needed to move. He pulled out a map of Niðergeard that Alex had made for him and studied the route he would take, comparing it to the streets outside, noting obstacles. He would have to memorise the route exactly. There would be no room for error, even the slightest mistake. As he contemplated his route, an idea struck him. He grinned gleefully, clenching and unclenching his hands in eager anticipation.
    _____________________ III _____________________
    Daniel stood just inside the door, watching the flames of the fire flare up and then die down. He’d brought one of the moldy sheets down from the room he’d once stayed in and set it alight in the dining hall, out of sight of the main entrance. It gave off a few large billows of brown smoke and then died down into a ball of bright orange worms that chased each other over the black, charred ball.
    Should he find Freya and Vivienne and tell them what he was doing? No, what good would come of that? Best just slip out and surprise them later with his mission accomplished.
    He had kept the gun he had been given in Elfland. It was oilednow and loaded with new bullets from Alex’s armoury at his family manse. He had a belt holster for it and three other magazines clipped beside it. He only planned on using his gun during phase two of his plan—making it back to the Langtorr alive—and only if he had no other option. No doubt, at some point—unless he was very, very lucky—he’d be discovered, and the yfelgópes would learn he’d killed their leader, and if he had to blast his way back here, then he would.
    He discarded his bag and coat onto a low iron table. Then he stripped off his shirt and T-shirt so his chest and arms were bare. Bending