KEEPER OF THE NORNS
TYRANNI THOMAS
Keeper of the Norns
Copyright 2018 Tyranni Thomas
All Rights Reserved
Cover design by The Cover Haven
Editing by Jenifer Knox
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author. Any unauthorized use of this material is prohibited.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedicated to Sharon J. Clark.
Table of Contents
Chapter One – The Heathen Hideaway
Chapter Two – Behind the Fall
Chapter Three – Playing for Keeps
Chapter Four – Falling Into What
Chapter Five – No Guts No Glory
Chapter Six – Love and War
Chapter Seven – New Beginnings
Chapter Eight – Two Can Play
Chapter Nine – Heathen Handler
Chapter Ten – Time’s Up
Chapter Eleven – Don’t Let Go
About Tyranni Thomas
Chapter One
The Heathen Hideaway
Alexavier
“The ravens are persistent tonight,” I murmured.
The cawing had grown so loud, it was as if they were cheering my brother Thane on. His fingers were locked in a careful balance of life. The strings of fate hung ragged, awaiting his command.
It was an art form to Thane, everything was really. From the long, wheat-colored hair, to the perfect fit of his leather armor—even the man's hammer had been blessed by Thor Himself. It may have been my brother Thorne who carried the God’s namesake, but it was Thane the Vain who held the favor.
“Be easy, you’re splattering,” Thorne grumbled, wiping a few drops of blood down his pant leg.
Thane scarcely even offered him a glance. He snorted and began to use his middle fingers to interlace the sanguineous strands. A loop was fashioned, a few swoops and ties were permitted, and alas, the masterpiece was added to the Quilt of Life.
“What the fuck? Were you weaving Ragnarök?” I teased.
Thane had blood trailing down his arms. A bit of it even smattered his nose, like freckles. The Valkyries loved him like that, with his blue eyes sparkling and the product of our curse staining his pretty features.
“Alexavier, my darling little brother,” Thane dramatically began. “When it comes to weaving, no one wants boring and picturesque. People want excitement, passion. They want to live!” He dangled his arm over my shoulder and gave it a condescending pat.
I shrugged him off and leaned over the rail, taking silent inventory of the tavern below. It was dark and empty, for the most part.
“Just because the end is near doesn't mean we have to be cruel,” I reminded him, only to be met with a poor nasally imitation of my own words. His immaturity made me want to strangle him at times. If he wasn't my own damn brother, I probably would have done it long ago.
“Knock it off, both of you,” Thorne advised.
He always did that. If Thane acted ignorant, Thorne scolded me, too. Which meant he chewed my ass daily. Sometimes, I felt like reminding him that I was a grown man. I thought it a million times, but never would I utter the sentiment.
“Are we really going to just sit back and watch it end?” I sighed. My voice sounded hopeless even to my own ears.
“The fuck else is there to do? We can't control them if we don’t have the thread. This is the Goddess’ way of thumbing her nose at us. Oh, the nerve of that woman. Why can't she just choke on her own pride, for fuck’s sake?”
I sniffed and looked away from Thane’s outburst. He was a shameful bastard, but once in a while, a good great while, he injected just enough wit to draw humor, even in the foulest of situations.
He was almost successful this time.
“Even if she did, you would bring her back again,” Thorne accused. “All it takes is a smile and the right twitch when they walk.”
They glared at each other for several long moments.
“We need another round,” I called over the rail to the bartender below. The Quilt of Life was stretched from one balcony to the next. Its discarded twins laid buried beneath the mountain.
“So, that's it… we’re just gonna wad this one up and shove it in the ground, too? Those people count on us. Each snare in that quilt is an innocent life,” I protested.
“Innocent,” Thane scoffed. He stole the ale from the serving wench before she could even steady the platter. Thorne and I were forced to save our drinks or leave the poor woman to wear them.
“Look below, brother. If they were innocent, we would live alone,” Thane lectured. “There would be no need for a tavern on the mountain of Nastrond. If they were all honest, there wouldn't be a Nastrond.”
His words were true; this hall was full of oath breakers and murderers, but that didn't mean the mortal world was ruined beyond repair.
“There is no guarantee that we will be permitted a fourth chance. We have failed the mortals twice already…” Thorne quietly began. He was the oldest and usually well versed on the way of things.
No one could know for certain what would become of the situation but, surely, we couldn't be held responsible for the entire thing. It was that damn Goddess of Life and her Trickery that did this!
“There is, perhaps, one hope on a prayer,” Thorne mused
“Hope is for fools, and I have never been one to make room for prayer,” Thane scoffed.
I glared at him and tipped my head to Thorne, silently urging him to share his secret hope. He stared at Thane for what felt like an eternity before he finally answered.
“If there is one thing that I have learned, it’s that nothing fucks up life’s path quicker than a bit of lust. Call on Zaphori, the Goddess of Lust… she may be the only one.”
Thane possessed a laugh that always managed to sound provocatively profane. That nerve grating sound trickled throatily beside me.
“Neither of you know anything about women,” Thane charged. “Lust is wise beyond her years and too great a friend of Trickery. Her twin sister, the Goddess of Love, now, she is blind at times. We could seduce her into doing our bidding. Easily. Without effort.” His words fell into a confident but hushed whisper. As if the need to spell it out had truly worn his patience.
Tension locked in my shoulder. My hand twitched, and I caught myself staring at his cheekbones. I rolled my shoulder, chasing the irritation away. That pretty little fucker was good at getting under people’s skin.
“Zhenni is the Goddess of Love. Why for all that is sacred would she want to end Life?” I sighed, wrangling down the urge to throttle him.
Perhaps my brothers had both gone mad with the prospect of our own extinction, I thought to myself. My attention volleyed between them. They seemed to be conversing with a series of squinted expressions and deep purposeful eye contact.
“She may be the Goddess of Life, but Adira is not untouchable. She answers to a twin just as the rest do… there is always a balance. We need a Goddess of Death… It is the only thing that will equal out the balance,” Thorne mused.
“Adira eliminated her own twin. We no longer have a Goddess of Death,” I reminded them with a groan. How long had they really been at the ale? I began to look around and count the empty mugs.
“We will seduce Zhenni, the Goddess of Love, and convince her to be the Goddess we desire. She is kind and will be easy to manipulate and deceive,” Thane crowed triumphantly. His smile was unnerving, and I h
ated the wicked way his eyes lit up. He seriously thought a woman could be forced into taking on such a role? There had to be another way to return natural order. My brothers were good at many things but negotiating and persuasion were not exactly their specialty.
Chapter Two
Behind the Fall
Zhenni
The Tranquil sound of water spilling over the rocks soothed me the way a hearth did for others. I had lived in the cave behind the fall at Worlds End for the last eternity. It was where I came to hibernate and mourn after it all ended. After a while, it just felt like home, so it was here I remained.
Across from me at the stone table, my twin sister Zaphori carefully removed my gift from the fancy box it had been delivered in, a gift from her. Her shiny auburn hair and amber eyes matched my own. Our style was different, though; she preferred to wear her cosmetics much more dramatic than I. She wore a short, sleeveless tunic that snugly betrayed both the toned nature of her upper arms, and her bust. We might have held the same likeness, but we were miles apart in presentation and personality.
“It was made in Paris. Everyone has one, but none are as nice as yours.” She proudly sang. The woman had a penchant for expensive and exotic gifts. She often acted as if she truly believed the price tag on an item somehow resembled the level of the giver’s affection for her.
I glanced over the finely crafted, heavily varnished chess board. It was nice. Exceptionally carved and detailed, no doubt a personalized piece.
“I do not entertain war games. The idea of it all is disgusting. I won’t have a replica of Death’s glory in my home,” I reminded her.
She always tried to make me more worldly. I’ve seen the world, I knew what it was like out there. And I preferred things just as they were in my little hideaway.
“You are looking at it all wrong, Zhenni. Imagine. There is a damsel in distress on the other side, just waiting on you to rescue her with love’s true kiss.” She sighed before pointing to her side. “This is the army that is holding her hostage.”
Well, when she presented it like that…
I sat down and stared at the pieces while she lined them up in their appropriate places.
“Are we gonna talk about this?” she asked, moving a tiny knobbed looking figure forward. There were several of them on the front row.
“Hm?” I asked, looking over my row of knobbies. I counted the spaces between the one she had moved forward and the one I held beneath my finger before scooting down to grasp another.
“Pick one!” she nervously squealed.
I startled and damn near took out half the board.
“What? What, talk about what?” I hissed, taking a piece and leveling it on a square without rhyme or reason.
“This. This moping and hiding away in the rocks. What, are you going to be a mythical hermit? I don’t think such a role exists. Sorry.”
I stared at her over the board, fuming that I had fallen for the illusion of a friendly game. She was only being chummy, so that I would let my guard down and babble. Damn her and those gossiping fae. She had learned far, far too many tricks from them!
“You should be happy,” she protested. “People are living longer, and look, you have more opportunities to fix all the little things I fuck up in their world!”
“Yes, yes. They are living longer, but they are loving each other less, Zaphori. The mortals are outright cruel and thoughtless at times. Friends turning on each other over petty things. Brothers squabbling over women who have no intention of staying with any of them. It’s disgraceful. I am done with it. I’m done with all of it.” I waved my hand and the waterfall began to shimmer. The surface of the rabid water became smooth and slowly started to focus. I studied my twin while the images bled over the water before us.
She stood up from the table and gravitated toward the imagery. Her hand trembled as she carefully reached out to touch the dandelion wishes that were being sent to the four corners of the earth. They erupted into a dozen children that shot far and wide. Children that became jealous, boastful, and violent as they multiplied and filled the planet. They used their love for themselves and their own means.
Chapter Three
Playing for Keeps
Thane
“Sometimes, I think you believe the drivel you spew.” Thorne laughed. “You truly believe you can control the will of a Goddess?”
“I know I can command the will of a Goddess, or any other woman, for that matter,” I countered.
Alexavier grunted in disgust and began to back away from me.
He was different. Some men thought with their pricks, but little brother never seemed capable of thinking past the emotions in his heart. It was just as disastrous at times even if he would never admit it. He had only been in his early twenties when we were chosen by the universe. I chalked his tender heart and compassion up to that. Perhaps his wishful thinking was why the powers that were had chosen him to weave the future instead of me. I lived for the now. The right fucking now, tomorrow-might-not-make-it now!
As far as I was concerned, we could figure out a plan once we had the woman in our possession. There was no sense counting our eggs before they hatched. But no. Thorne wanted to go over things until we had all started to collect dust.
“We don't exactly have time for you to woo her,” Alexavier chirped. He waved his hand, urging us toward the balcony with him. His fingers tickled the air and the Quilt of Life slowly began to manifest itself.
He ran his hand over the wrinkled surface and shook his head. People were sludging about their daily life with no purpose or rush. A season of procrastinators appeared before us, a sea of wrinkled faces that had never known or held ambition. There was no war, no surprises, or accidents to balance the universe. In a matter of a decade, things would slow to the speed of natural causes and the balance of mortal existence would be forever ruined.
“Get her here. I will worry about converting her once she’s secured.” As soon as the words left my mouth, Alexavier was squinting at me like I belonged on the bottom of his boot.
“Don’t look at me liked that. You should be thanking me. I'm the only one who has the nerve to do anything besides sit here and quake over the possibilities.”
As if challenged, Thorne lugged his ass off the balcony and gave my shoulder a shove.
“You have ideas... no one said they were good ones,” he grumbled. He moved to the wall and fingered the axes one by one before settling on a particularly aged one to travel with.
Alex glared at both of us until we were at the door. When he realized we weren’t going to be deterred, he hurled the remainder of his ale over the balcony. His steps were loud, and his cursing matched that of the patrons he had doused below.
I laughed and rejoiced like a child who had gotten its way.
We may not figure it all out, but at least we would go out with one last adventure, I thought to myself as we walked the distance to the sacred circle.
Thorne stood in the middle and scowled at me in silence. “Well?” he barked impatiently. I had almost forgotten how much he hated to travel between the worlds. In making him go without the promise of bloodshed, we’d no doubt have to contend with his moods for weeks to come.
It was now or never. I shoved Alexavier into the circle before he could whine about ethics and leapt in after him.
The ravens went mad with cawing. It grew so loud I feared I would go deaf. My thoughts raced the madness until ice-cold water sprayed over me without warning.
I flung my hair around, eager to clear my vision. Sometimes the sacred stones had a sense of humor better than my own. They transported men into any number of situations, most of which were not favorable arrivals.
The water roared behind me, sending a cold draft that instantly caused goosebumps. A moment later, Alex and Thorne were birthed into the cave with me. In the back, I noticed Zaphori, the often-worshipped Goddess of Lust. She was barely dressed in some skin-tight tunic. No one could have missed her.
Sh
e slapped the arm of a woman who was way too engrossed in chess pieces to have noticed us.
“Zhen... Zhenni.” She started off quiet, but each repetition amplified.
I closed the distance between us in a matter of two or three rushed steps. Before I could grab her, Zaphori stood up and shoved her sister toward us. Zhenni screamed, and Thorne caught her wrist.
Zaphori darted toward the door, quick to use her twin as a sacrificial distraction. It was a bizarre scene to witness. My brothers and I may be polar opposites, but I would die for them. Such cowardice left a foul taste in my mouth. I started to charge after her, but Alexavier grabbed my arm.
“Leave her. We have the one we came for,” he growled.
My temper rose so fast I could feel the color in my cheeks. I squinted at him and couldn’t stopped my features from skewing. “Your ancestors would be ashamed,” I accused, barreling after him.
“They are too busy making excuses for you to be ashamed of me,” he mumbled. "Now, how the fuck do we get back home?”
Zhenni stomped on Thorne’s boot, slung her head back, and almost connected with his nose. She was half rabid, but who could blame her? Thorne looked back at me and Alex from the cave’s edge. His expression was one of uncertainty and sheer panic. Every time we go back to Nastrond… it is in death. And it was in that very moment, that I became acutely aware of the fact that our big brother had never fucking jumped back on his own.
“Well that’s the way we got here.” Thorne’s head weaved around, as if someone had contested his choice.
“I didn’t say anything…” I reminded him.
“Your eyes. They speak louder than your mouth ever could,” Thorne snapped. His large hand landed between the center of Alexavier’s shoulders, as if he intended to give a reassuring pat but instead, our baby brother was hurled into the waterfall.
His screams were beyond maidenly as he fell between time and space. Before I could ask any questions, Thorn laced his arms tightly around the Goddess, and walked backward from the cliff. Zhenni’s hands shot out wildly, her screams filled the night, and then there was nothing.
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