* * *
Dashing between one abandoned bulldozer and the next, Managarm made his way across the field as Sally stalked him.
“You will face me, Managarm!” He heard her scream after him. Her voice crackled with a dangerous mixture of magick and rage. “You will feel the wrath of the Moon Witch!”
Get to the Tree, Managarm commanded himself. His bulldozers were down. The Berserkers were scattered. There was no way to destroy the Yggdrasil outright, but he could still bend this new Tree to his will. He’d have to wait out the lifetime of this Yggdrasil before he could fully recreate the Cosmos, but he’d settle for dominion over this world in the meantime.
The runes shifted in the bag on his belt with every stride. He’d lost Thurisaz, and several others had fallen out when Sally had tried to blast him, but he hoped even one Yggdrasil rune soaked in her blood would be enough.
Managarm sneaked out from behind another bulldozer, then broke into a full run for several yards before sliding to his belly behind a downed motorcycle. He peeked out from behind the mangled chrome and saw the World Tree almost within reach. He scanned the field and smiled. Sally was nowhere in sight.
Managarm climbed to his feet, pulled the bag of runes from his belt, and marched straight toward the Tree.
“MANAGARM.”
He stopped in his tracks and turned slowly. His blood ran cold when he saw Freya and Sally, standing side by side, staring him down—and Odin bearing down from behind them.
“S-, Sally,” Managarm stammered and tried to hide the bag of runes behind his back. “I thought you were dead.”
“You thought you had sacrificed me to the Fenris Wolf,” Sally spat. She nodded toward the bag in his hands. “You thought you could use my power as your own.”
“Sally, I thought we were partners . . .”
“Enough!” Freya tilted her head toward Sally, and they both raised their arms, targeting Managarm.
He held up his hands defensively. “Wait—”
The combined blasts from Freya and Sally struck him fully in the chest. He was knocked several yards backward, landing violently atop a pile of uprooted saplings. He heard the bones in his left arm snap and smelled burning hair as electric current shot through his body. But with all of his nerve endings screaming at once, he felt nothing.
Letting the bag of runes drop into his lap, Managarm sat up and reached for his chest, but all he felt was warm goo. He looked down at the huge, smoking hole in his shirt, and when he pulled his hand away, he saw his fingertips covered in the syrupy glop of his melting flesh.
Managarm clutched at the slimy mush that used to be his chest. Each breath was more difficult than the last as his organs liquified. Still, there was no pain. He looked up to find Odin towering over him.
“Moon Dog.” Odin glared at him. “See the failure of what you have wrought.”
Managarm scanned the field. It was littered with overturned bulldozers, mangled motorcycles, abandoned crossbows and fishing spears, and the bodies of teenagers and elderly women. His gaze came to rest on Bragi’s body, and Mangarm’s face soured as he saw Frigga bent over her son in mourning.
He heard a familiar growl in his ear and turned his head just in time to catch Sally’s infernal cat backing up against him and lifting his tail to let loose a misty stream of urine on the gaping chasm of Managarm’s torso. Was nothing sacred to that animal? Then he felt an insistent tugging on his other side—and gasped aloud when he saw Heimdall’s dog gnawing at his exposed organs.
Managarm looked up at Odin. Was there anything he could say now to preserve his own life? His mind raced for some sufficiently hyperbolic praise or words of groveling, when he glimpsed a dark shape advancing quickly on the Chief God from the rear.
Fenrir.
Managarm’s eyes brightened. “It’s not over yet, Odin. Kill me if you will, but you cannot stop Ragnarok.”
Pushing the animals out of the way, Odin leaned over the defeated Moon Dog, wrapped a single hand around his neck, and squeezed.
Valhalla Page 64