“The spy issued the challenge to all of us. As your elder, I insist you allow me the honor.” The Valkyrie—Róta, I assumed—patted her younger companion’s shoulder. “Stand down, Kára.”
I could tell Kára, the younger Valkyrie, didn’t like it, but still she stepped aside with a slight bow of her head. Róta stepped forward wielding a spear that appeared carved from lava rock; veins of fire spread along the shaft, consolidating at the tip to form a blade of pure white heat. She let that blade graze the grass, and, within seconds, the blades began to curl and brown.
“I will try my best not to do any permanent damage,” Róta said, addressing me for the first time. “Lady Freya warned us of your frailty. Submit quickly, and we will take you back with us to give your statement regarding what happened here. But, if you insist on being difficult, you should know that I—”
A loud crash from inside the mead hall caught everyone’s attention, cutting the Valkyrie off mid-sentence—which was just as well, seeing as how I had no interest in listening to her ridiculous threats. Clearly, the Valkyries had me confused for someone else; there was nothing frail about me. A series of shouts and groans erupted after a brief silence, chased by a booming laugh I thought I recognized.
So, the goddess was still inside wreaking havoc.
“Kára, take the others and go see what’s happening inside,” Róta insisted. “I’ll handle this alone. Oh, and avoid the einherjar, if you can.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then at least try not to break anyone,” Róta replied, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “We wouldn’t want relationships to deteriorate any further than they have already. In fact, take the Allfather’s grandsons and drop them somewhere inside when no one’s looking. We wouldn’t want anyone to think we had anything to do with what happened to them.”
“Understood.”
The Valkyries marched off without another word, though I noticed Kára casting a dubious glance my way before ducking through the hole the goddess had created, the fallen demigods in tow. I had a moment to replay Róta’s instructions in my head and to wonder what sort of political quagmire I’d stumbled upon, but I didn’t bother dwelling on it. Now that the fight was imminent, I couldn’t afford to get distracted.
With her fellow Valkyries gone, Róta seemed considerably more at ease; she began whipping her chosen weapon about, arcs of flame trailing wherever the speartip passed. The effect was actually rather pretty, despite the circumstances, and I told her so.
“Thank you,” she replied, bowing her head. The metal plume atop her helmet caught the moonlight, and I was suddenly able to discern the design: a bird in flight, the wings thrown back to flare like horns on either side of her head, the neck and beak descending to rest against the bridge of her nose.
“Fantastic workmanship, too,” I noted, pointing.
“If you keep complimenting me, I may start to think you don’t want this fight,” Róta said, resuming her fluid spear twirling routine.
“Well, we can't have that. Tell me, why didn’t ye want your underlin’ fightin’ me? Afraid I’d hurt her?” I asked, tracking her graceful, flowing movements out of the corner of my eye.
“Hurt her? No, Kára is more than capable of taking care of herself. I should know, I trained her when she first came to us.”
“Still, ye stepped in on her behalf. Why was that?”
“Kára has been distracted lately, and I could tell she didn’t want to fight you. I also noticed that you shared none of her reservations in that regard.” Róta stilled and studied me, her eyes peering out from beneath the sloped curve of gleaming steel. “Do you agree to the terms of our bout?”
“We fight until one of us submits, is that it?”
“Succinctly put, but yes.”
“Fine by me.”
I swept out an arm, swatting the Valkyrie with a wave of shadow thick enough to send her flying in a way she wasn’t used to. Except that wasn’t what happened. Instead, the shadow crashed against her breastplate and shattered like a window pane, sending her stumbling—but certainly not soaring—backwards. Róta muttered a curse, staring wide-eyed at my exposed arm. A glance revealed the shimmering emerald veins beneath my skin, visible where the leather of my coat had been torn and the bandage removed.
“How is that possible?”
“I should be askin’ ye the same question,” I replied, eyeing her intricate armor appreciatively. “That’s magic shieldin’ ye, I take it? But not your own, I t’ink, or I’d have sensed it.”
“Our armor is tied to our bond with Lady Freya and the Allfather. It protects us.” Róta assumed a much less relaxed stance, her spear leveled over her forearm in a pose I thought I recognized. “But it is our life force which powers that bond. Our will to win.”
“Ye know, you’re very forthcomin’ for a mortal,” I noted. “I appreciate that. Tell ye what, let’s make this interestin’.”
I held out my hand and waited for a sliver of night to form, felt it coil and lengthen beneath my palm until it was roughly the same length as Róta’s spear. The instant I clasped it, green flames burned along the shaft as if mirroring my foe’s weapon. I fell into a stance that felt eerily familiar, the tip of the spear pointed towards the ground, the shaft across my back.
Róta’s eyes widened further.
“You’ve fought with a spear before, I see.”
“Only one way to find out.”
The Valkyrie grunted, grinned, and lunged. Her strike came startlingly fast; the white hot blade of her spear licked my cheek as I pivoted and brought my own to bear, flicking it up to crack against her pole and send it skyward, leaving her wide open for a counterattack. I took the opportunity to spin, using my body rather than my weapon to get in close, and felt the tip of my spear score a hit across the Valkyrie’s belly that would have sliced her open were it not for her armor. Still, by getting past her guard, we both knew I had her at a significant disadvantage; she couldn’t defend against my blows with her spear overextended.
Except it seemed defense wasn’t her main concern.
Róta dropped her spear entirely, letting it tumble to the ground in exchange for a free hand—one she balled into a fist the instant I swiveled to strike at her a second time. She struck me across the face with it, her gauntleted hand taking me just below the eye with enough force to send me sprawling. I rolled with the blow, coming up with my spear in a half-guard, but Róta was busy retrieving her own weapon, her fingers probing at the wicked scratch I’d left across her midsection.
“That was expertly done,” she said, sounding impressed.
“Would’ve been better if you’d ended up cradlin’ your guts,” I admitted, marveling at the taste of blood in my mouth from her blow. “That was some punch.”
“The trick is putting your back into it. So, do you submit, yet?”
“To a juiced-up mortal?” I laughed, amused by her cheekiness. “Not a chance.”
“You keep saying that like you aren’t one. And then there’s your arm. Reminds me of when the Temple boy came to Asgard.” Róta rolled her shoulders. “Well, Lady Freya did warn us not to underestimate you. Suppose I can’t be too surprised.”
“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about,” I admitted, though her words did stir a vague...something. Whispers bubbled up inside my head, promising answers if only I would listen. But I shook them off, focusing instead on the task at hand: tearing my opponent apart. “Once this is over and I’ve peeled ye out of that suit, you’ll have to explain what all this nonsense was about.”
“You sure do talk a lot.”
I ran my tongue across one of my eye teeth, amused by the Valkyrie and her endless gall. If I wanted, there were at least a dozen ways I could silence her for good. I could smother her with a blanket of night, for instance, or bind her with the chains I’d used on the serving girl. I could even reach out and call to the fire that burned inside her breast, draining her will to win even as I drank the life force she
was so proud of. But none of those methods would satisfy me as much as beating her at her own game.
A goddess has to have a little pride.
“Your move,” she insisted, beckoning.
I jerked my chin in acknowledgment, accepting her challenge in complete silence.
This time, I’d let my actions do the talking.
16
The second round of my fight with Róta lasted perhaps another couple seconds before we were rudely interrupted by a half-dozen Valkyries crashing onto the lawn through a series of brand new holes—just long enough for us to square off before turning to stare at a mead hall that was beginning to look more and more like a block of Swiss cheese. The Valkyries who’d been thrown lurched to their feet, groaning, their armor dented and charred in places, their cloaks shredded or gone entirely. The one with the dual-colored eyes, Kára, was not among them.
“What happened in there, and where’s—” Róta began.
The remaining Valkyries came pouring through the breach to join their companions, forming a vanguard of deadly warriors that looked capable of standing firm against any threat. Any threat, that is, but the overwhelming power of a goddess; the blonde I’d spoken to earlier emerged holding a battered but still lively Kára by one arm, their silhouettes looming large against the torchlight at their backs.
“Who does this one belong to?” the goddess called, ignoring the Valkyrie’s incessant squirming.
“Wait, Skadi? Is that really you?” Róta asked, her mouth agape.
“Róta, get over here and help me stop this thing!” Kára shouted before the goddess could answer, firing off a savage kick that glanced harmlessly off the blonde’s thigh. “She’s the one who started the brawl inside!”
“I did no such thing.” The goddess chucked Kára across the lawn to land just a few feet away from where I stood, then pretended to brush her hands clean as though she’d just finished taking out the trash. “That was all her,” she continued, pointing in my direction.
Everyone’s eyes turned to me.
“Well, I’m sure I had a good reason.”
“Reasons make no difference,” the goddess replied, grinning. “It is Valhalla. Everyone fights. Anyway...Róta! It is good to see you. Sorry about your sisters. I did not recognize any of them, or I would have held back a little.”
“Valkyries!” Róta called, her voice quavering with what might very well have been fear. “Stand down. Now!”
“Róta, come on, together we can take—” Kára began but was immediately cut off by a sharp look from her superior. The younger Valkyrie rose to her feet, glaring at the blonde goddess as though looks alone could kill. Still, I had to at least admire her spirit, if not her common sense; not many mortals had what it took to threaten not one but two goddesses in the same night.
“What brings the jötunnar here, Skadi?” Róta asked. Her question was immediately met with whispers and sidelong glances from the other Valkyries. Even Kára seemed taken aback by the news; she stopped glaring to rub at the wrist the goddess had held only moments before, her eyes wide and disbelieving.
“She brings me here,” Skadi replied, pointing at me a second time. “This one freed me from a Tiny God’s prison.”
“You freed one of the jötunnar?” Kára hissed, her voice so hushed I doubted anyone else could have heard her. “Are you freaking insane?”
“I didn’t. Or at least, I don’t remember…” I struggled to find the words, suppressing a sudden headache as a superimposed vision of Skadi’s face appeared before me, the pupils of her eyes so large I could see myself reflected in them, the spread of her impossibly huge rosebud lips like watching a cave mouth undulate. I looked around in my mind’s eye and saw her manacled wrists, saw the chains that bound her. But then the vision shifted, and the chains were no longer there; all that remained was a trunk of twisted metal, its jagged edges reaching for the sky. Suddenly, I felt ridiculously overwhelmed by that nagging voice within, my equilibrium so disrupted I could no longer stand.
Kára caught me before I hit the ground.
The Valkyrie hoisted me upright with a firmer grip than was strictly necessary; I could feel her fingers burrowing into my shoulders blades. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and pushed her away, resolved to stand on my own two feet. I was a goddess, dammit, not some fragile mortal with a weak constitution.
Something had to be wrong.
I closed my eyes and stretched my senses only to find the night fading fast. But how? The night had been young only a couple hours before. There was no way I’d lost track of that much time, was there?
“It’s no good. Dawn is comin’,” I said, drawing strange looks from all but Skadi. “I have to go.”
“Go where?” Skadi asked.
I looked up to find the goddess approaching, her arms spread wide as if to appear less threatening. But I wasn’t fooled; her frigid power remained, leaking from her like a cool breeze. Indeed, frost licked at her boot heels, turning blades of grass into shards of ice wherever she stepped. Still, I didn’t run. Something about her question made me hesitate, made me turn it over and over in my mind like a puzzle box. Where would I go? What was I doing here? I wasn’t sure. Why wasn’t I sure?
“What’s happenin’ to me?” I whispered, drawing a cluster of shadows together to form a cloak and wrapping myself in it. Kára gasped and danced backwards at the display of power, mirroring her companions. Only Skadi and Róta seemed unperturbed, though—if you asked me—the pity written across their faces was far worse.
“Nothing we cannot fix, Quinn.” Skadi stepped close to place her hands on my shoulders, her voice surprisingly gentle. “You freed me from an eternal prison in exchange for a flower.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“That’s alright. You did not know what you were then, either.”
“I know what I am,” I countered, angrily. “I’m just not sure what I came here for, or what I want to do, next…”
“Give it a minute, and it will come to you.”
17
In the end, it didn’t even take that long; the sun broke over the horizon mere seconds later, painting the cloud-strewn sky in shades of pink and purple that might have brought tears to eyes far less cynical than mine. I blinked rapidly, and found Skadi studying me in the dim light of dawn, her glacial blue eyes probing for signs that I was still in there, somewhere. For a brief moment, I considered pulling a prank on the earnest giantess, like feigning amnesia or faking a schizophrenic episode. But truthfully, I was too tired to bother.
“So, who won the bar fight?” I asked, wearily.
“Ah, there we are! Glad to have you back!” Skadi bellowed, slapping my shoulder with enough gusto that it sent me stumbling sideways, my arm throbbing as though she’d punched the shit out of it.
“Back?” a familiar voice asked. “Back from where?”
I turned to find a very ragged looking Kára leaning on her trident, looking skeptical at best. Not that I could blame her; I hadn’t warned Freya or her Valkyries about my...condition before going into this. Of course, that was at least partially because I’d sincerely hoped that—between Fólkvangr’s eternal sunshine of the endless time and the afterlife’s general disregard for physics—it wouldn’t come up.
“Say, why is it mornin’, already?” I asked once I realized Skadi intended to ignore Kára’s question. “Shouldn’t it still be nighttime?”
“Time works differently here,” Róta explained, her gaze lingering on my face as though I’d said something more interesting than I’d intended. “The day progresses faster in Valhalla so that Fólkvangr may remain largely unchanged.”
“Two sides of a flipped coin, is that it?”
“They are connected, yes. Even in the afterlife, there must be balance. Right and wrong. Joy and sorrow. Day and night,” Róta added, giving me a meaningful look. “So, now that you’ve regained your...senses, would you care to tell us what happened here?”
“Ah, well…” I hes
itated, surprised to find my memories weren’t the jumbled mess I was used to, but rather a montage of notable moments—a highlight reel I could access at will. Of course, that didn’t mean I wanted to; recalling how I’d mistreated the Valkyries, how I’d threatened them after they’d only tried to help, made me cringe. I found myself wondering how much they knew or suspected. And then there was Skadi, who—according to her cryptic comments over the course of the evening—seemed to have a better idea what I was than I did.
Or, at the very least, what made me tick.
“Listen, I should have told ye lot before,” I admitted, sheepishly, “I’m a—”
“She is a witch,” Skadi interjected, cutting me off before I could expose myself in front of everyone.
Well, my divinity, that is.
“A witch?” Róta asked, dubiously.
“Yes.”
The Valkyrie and the jötunn exchanged meaningful looks that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of us. Still, when Róta accepted Skadi’s explanation despite its obvious inconsistencies, no one argued or complained. Perhaps because the lie was more convenient than the truth, or perhaps because plausible deniability was a valued commodity even in the afterlife. Either way, it seemed—for the time being, at least—I was a falsely-labeled witch. A logical occupation in the afterlife for a six-foot-tall redhead, I figured.
Now all I needed was a broom and a pointy hat.
“Well then, witch, why did you start the bar fight?” Kára asked, cutting through the momentary silence with her snark.
“I didn’t start it,” I replied, glaring at Skadi for ratting me out. “Magni and Modi were stirrin’ up trouble, tryin’ to get the warriors inside—”
“The einherjar,” Kara supplied.
“Sure, whatever. They were tryin’ to get the einherjar to mob us.”
“And how did they know to do that in the first place? Wasn’t the whole point of this operation to disguise yourself and keep out of sight?”
“Ye try spyin’ on someone with her tellin’ everythin’ with ears who ye are,” I replied, jabbing my thumb at the giantess. “She’s not exactly built for stealth.”
Brimstone Kiss: Phantom Queen Book 10 - A Temple Verse Series (The Phantom Queen Diaries) Page 9