The Unyielding

by Shelly Laurenston

  “You see, the Crows had their own witches back then and they liked their magic . . . cruel. Their chosen witches usually were the angriest of the group. The elves were used for their magical properties. The Crows would take them back to their world, keep them captive, and tear bits of them off as they needed. They kept them alive in their nests for as long as they could. It got so bad that the decision was made to close off the worlds. No more easy access for anyone human. If you wanted in, you had to work for it, which meant not enough power could be worked up to send an entire kill squad of Crows in; only one or two at a time.

  “Now it’s true enough that one or two Crows could hold their own against a troop of warriors without much effort, but an entire army? Of elves? That’s when things turned, and the elves started hunting the Crows for sport. Taking their wings for trophies. But not just the Crows, all humans. The Valkyries. The Protectors. If they ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, they faced a dark end. Many say it was because of the Crows. That they started it.”

  Erin laughed and both Stieg and Torfinna stopped and gawked at her.

  “No, no,” Erin quickly said. “I wasn’t laughing at . . . I mean, that’s a horrible thing, what happened, and I wasn’t laughing at that. I’d never laugh at that. It’s just . . . they started it is kind of my thing. So I thought that was kind of . . . funny.” She cleared her throat and waved her hand forward. “Why don’t we, uh . . . keep going? That way?”

  Torfinna headed off but Stieg stared at Erin for a few seconds longer before shaking his head and following the dwarf.

  “Yeah,” Erin muttered to herself before falling in step behind them. “That was awkward.”

  * * *

  Stieg gazed out over the expansive river that cut through the cave. He hadn’t been expecting the karve—a smallish old Norse longboat—tied to a dock, several dwarves loading weapons and other goods onboard.

  “They’ll get you to Corpse Shore from here.”

  Erin glanced at Stieg, and then asked Torfinna, “No offense, but why can’t we just fly?”

  Smirking around her pipe, Torfinna walked to the karve and clapped her hands at one of the dwarves. “Toss me a chicken.”

  And . . . he did, which was weird.

  Torfinna brought the chicken to Stieg and held it out to him. “Take it,” she ordered.

  He did, but he wasn’t really comfortable with a live chicken in his hands. He wasn’t raised on a farm.

  “Now throw it. High. Over the water.”

  “Can’t you just tell us—”

  “Do it.”

  Stieg didn’t want to, but the damn thing had started to peck at him and he just wanted this over with. So he did as Torfinna ordered and shot-putted the poor chicken out over the water.

  Since chickens couldn’t fly, he waited for gravity to take over and the chicken to fall to its watery death, but that never happened. Something, he wasn’t sure what, leaped out of the water and snatched the chicken from midair before disappearing back into the black depths of the water.

  “You fly over that, you won’t last two minutes,” Torfinna explained. With a smile, she added, “They can go higher, too. Clear to the top if they have to.”

  “You had to kill a chicken to show us that?” Erin asked.

  “You seem like the type who needs to see why something won’t work. You just ignore talking.”

  Erin looked like she was about to argue so Stieg said, “She’s right. Let it go.”

  “This boat is fast and can you get you to Corpse Shore in about ten minutes. You could fly around the river, but that’ll take you only half as long as walking. And you don’t have that much time.”

  “Well,” Erin began, “how many days are you talking about because—”

  “You,” Torfinna said, looking directly at them both, “don’t have that much time.”

  Stieg and Erin exchanged glances and Erin asked, “What are you telling us?”

  “I’m telling you, the battle that you so desperately need to get to . . . is about to begin. Now. And I’m willing to bet gold, Crow”—Torfinna let out a sad sigh—“that the only thing you’ll ever be able to do is watch your sister-Crows die. But at least they’ll die with honor.”

  * * *

  Sadie Monroe sat at the red light in her boss’s black BMW, while her boss yelled at her over the speakerphone because she was taking longer than ten seconds to get from San Fernando Valley to West Los Angeles.

  “It’s not like it’s rush hour traffic!” her boss went on.

  “I’m on Sunset,” Sadie promised.

  “Where on Sunset?”

  “The 405 overpass. I’ll be at the office in—”

  “You better have my cappuccino order.”

  “I do!”

  “And it better be right this time. And hot!”

  Sadie stuck her tongue out at the dashboard, wishing she had the balls to do that to her boss’s face!

  “I don’t hear a Yes, ma’am. It’s hot!”

  “It’s hot! I promise it’s—” Sadie stopped talking and leaned in, squinting at a spot a few hundred feet away from her. She watched, fascinated, as something—a man, maybe, but with big leather wings—flew down from the sky with another screaming man in his arms.

  Was someone shooting a movie or something?

  “Sadie? Are you listening to me?”

  “There are two men on the overpass.”

  “Oh, God, is there another jumper? If you see him jump, don’t you dare stop to give the police a statement!”

  They didn’t jump. The one with the . . . well, the wings, stood on the fence that prevented people from just randomly throwing themselves off overpasses. He held out the other man—who was screaming and hysterically crying—with one hand, which meant he was really strong.

  “What the hell . . . ?”

  “Sadie, what’s going on?” For the first time Sadie heard something akin to concern in her boss’s voice.

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  Just as the sun began to rise, Sadie saw something flash. “Oh, my God! He’s got a knife.”

  “Sadie, get out of there. Get out of there now!”

  “He’s not near me,” she said, taking out her personal phone to record the whole thing.

  “He could have a gun or something.”

  The man with the wings raised the knife into the air as he screamed out something. She rolled down her window but couldn’t really hear him.

  “Sadie, what’s happening?”

  “There’s a couple cop cars. I think it’s almost over.”

  The cops got out of their cars and pointed weapons at the winged man, ordering him to get down. But the winged man ignored them, still giving his speech, yelling out to the sky. Then . . . he just dragged his knife over his hostage’s throat.

  “Oh, my God! He killed him! He killed the guy!”

  The cops started shooting, bullets riddling the winged man’s body, but it was like . . . nothing. He barely moved. Just kept holding the hostage’s body over the 405 Freeway, shaking him so that every drop of blood from his throat drained out of him.

  Sadie didn’t understand. What was happening?

  She could still hear her boss calling her name, but her voice was fading and everything was going white and . . . and . . . and . . .

  * * *

  Önd tossed the false prophet’s body away and jumped down from the bridge to the road below. All the vehicles and humans were gone now, caught between this world and another. Time itself had been stopped. Only those with the power, those who knew the truth of this world and all the others, knew what was happening.

  The rest—the sheep—if they were lucky, they would never wake up.

  Önd threw his arms wide and let out a roar. A call of challenge to all those brave enough to face him and his troops.

  “Hey!” a female voice responded and Önd opened his eyes to see a single Crow standing alone on the freeway. Her wings out, a rune-covered axe in her hand.
The War General. Although, he’d never give her the respect due such a title. She was nothing but a worthless Crow. “Are you the only one, slave?” he asked. “The only one to face me?”

  “Didn’t you know? Crows never fight alone.”

  They came up behind her. Clan after Clan. The Crows. The Ravens. The Isa. The Silent. Protectors. Holde’s Maids. The Claws of Ran. The Giant Killers.

  And, on nearby hillsides, on their winged horses, the Valkyries waited to take those who died in battle to Valhalla.

  Önd stretched out his arms and his own army strode up behind him. The Carrion. The Mara. Giants. Hell demons. Trolls. And fallen angels sent by Lucifer himself. He had double the army and the Clans knew it. He saw color drain from many of his enemies’ faces. “Well?” Önd demanded of the War General. “Have you nothing to say, slave?”

  “You can stop calling me slave . . . bitch.”

  Önd’s gaze narrowed on the Crow, locking every detail of her face into his memory so he could find her and kill her himself. But then a Crow dropped from the sky and landed on Önd’s back, her blade immediately buried into his neck.

  “Hey, dead thing!” the War General yelled out. “Ready for a fight?”

  Önd reached over his shoulder and grabbed the slave by her hair, throwing her off. He yanked the blade from his neck and tossed it. It didn’t kill him, but it did hurt.

  He hefted his sword and called out, “Come, slaves! It’s time to learn that your place in this world is ON YOUR KNEES!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The boat ride would have been amazing . . . if Erin wasn’t in a full-blown panic. Of course, Stieg quickly noticed, her panic wasn’t like everyone else’s. She didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She didn’t curse. She simply stood, strong legs braced apart, arms crossed over her chest. Gaze locked dead ahead.

  That’s how Stieg knew she was panicking. She wasn’t making jokes. She wasn’t talking a mile a minute. She wasn’t even complaining.

  He had to admit, a panicking Erin was as terrifying as a raging Jace. Because what they were willing to do when they were like that could destroy entire universes.

  As the boat cut through the water easily, the dwarves avoided her like she had the plague. Stieg stood by her side but didn’t speak to her or touch her. He knew she didn’t want any of that.

  She didn’t need pity; Erin needed results. Say what you want about her mouth and her attitude but she always got results.

  “We’re almost there,” the dwarf captain told him. “Once you’re on shore, you’ll want to head northeast to find what you’re lookin’ for.”

  Stieg nodded. He knew immediately when they’d moved from Nidavellir to the Land of the Dead. They were no longer inside a mountain but everything around them was gray. The sand on the shore, the sky above them, the water the boat cut through. All gray.

  The boat pulled up to the land and Erin was already moving, jumping into the water and walking to shore.

  “Take care, lad,” the captain called after him. “And watch your back.”

  * * *

  Jace used her shield to block the sword aimed at her head and swung her arm back to cut the throat of the Carrion easing up behind her.

  Someone kicked her in the face and she hit the ground. A Mara immediately crawled onto her chest, pressing her fingers against Jace’s head. Images and memories of her time with her ex-husband flooded her and she felt like she was back there. Trapped there. With him. In misery and despair, unable to get out.

  Rage tore through her and she dropped her shield and blade, so she could wrap one hand around the back of the Mara’s head, and grabbed her chin. Jace twisted and the Mara’s neck snapped. Then screaming, Jace slammed the Mara’s body onto the ground, placed her knee against its chest, and began trying to pull the bitch’s head off.

  As she struggled, the ground beneath her shook. Jace lifted her head and watched the giant stomp toward her. He was a mile or two off, but she didn’t care. She dropped the prey in her hands and unleashed her wings, taking to the air. Screaming, she charged, zooming past Crows and Ravens and Carrion. She neared the giant and pulled the blade holstered to her side.

  She wanted to kill him. She had to kill him. She would kill him!

  Hands caught her around the waist and yanked her out of the giant’s path. “Nope,” Ski said from behind her as he carried her away from her prey.

  * * *

  Normally Ski would never get between any Crow and her prey, but when Bear pointed out where Jace was headed, he knew he had to step in. She was in a rage, which meant she wasn’t being her most logical self. At least not as logical as he needed her to be when it came to giants.

  But Ski would never think of taking Jace away from the actual battle. They needed her and her rage. So, instead, he found a large group of hell beasts who’d cornered a group of Silent and dropped her right in the middle.

  Jace landed hard on one and tore the throat out of another with her talons.

  Confident she was where she needed to be, Ski turned and flew back toward the giant, who was about to stomp on some unsuspecting Isa.

  “Giant Killers!” Ski called out.

  Freida and her warriors charged forward, using their mighty hammers to attack the legs of the creature. Ski landed on the giant’s nose and jumped to his cheekbone. The giant tried to swat him away, but Leigh dove in and slammed her talons in the middle of the giant’s palm. The giant screamed and closed his hand, but she dashed out before he could crush her in his grip.

  “Blade!” Ski yelled and Maeve tossed him a sword she’d picked up from the battle. He shoved it into the giant’s eye, ripping it out of the socket.

  Blood poured out, nearly drowning him. Ski took to the skies when the giant began to swing wildly. Freida crushed the giant’s Achilles tendon and another Killer who’d climbed the giant’s leg crushed his kneecap.

  “Nine Clans, move!” Ski bellowed as the giant toppled over, nearly taking out the nearby J. Paul Getty Museum building, which would have been a tragedy.

  He and his brothers loved that museum.

  * * *

  They walked about five minutes, but Erin knew as soon as they hit Corpse Shore because of the smell. The smell of decomposing flesh. She’d smelled it before during her years as a Crow, but never like this.

  They’d only gone a few more feet before Erin was forced to cover her nose and mouth with her hand and Stieg dry heaved into the sand.

  “Oh, God . . . Erin.”

  Shivering, her need to vomit getting worse, she slowly faced Stieg, saw what he was looking at. She didn’t have words for what she saw. The gray, boring ocean the dwarves had taken them across was now filled with rotting corpses. Some had already been partially eaten. Others were simply decaying in the overcast sun above. That’s where the smell was coming from—the bodies.

  The horror didn’t end there. The corpses that undulated in the surf were definitely dead, but they weren’t gone. Their souls were trapped in those bodies and, as punishment for their past transgressions, that’s where they’d stay.

  Erin could hear them calling out for help. For release. Begging for the nightmare to end.

  She and Stieg had made it. They were in Náströnd. Corpse Shore.

  “We have to go,” she said, ignoring the cries of those already dead and the smell that just wouldn’t go away.

  “Erin—”

  “No,” she told him, wanting him to understand there was no discussion. “We keep moving. We keep going, no matter what.”

  “Okay,” he said, but his voice sounded weird and his gaze was locked on something past her shoulder.

  “There’s something behind me, isn’t there?” she finally asked.

  Stieg nodded.

  “Is it Carrion?”

  Head shake.

  “Nidhogg?” she asked hopefully.

  Another head shake.

  “Something I need to kill?”

  “One of us does.”

  She started
to turn around, but Stieg again shook his head. “Please don’t move,” he practically begged. “Trust me. Just don’t move.”

  “I have to move eventually.”

  “Just stand . . . there.”

  Stieg’s wings eased out of his back. Slowly. Quietly.

  Erin waited, tense.

  “Now!” Stieg bellowed.

  Erin dive-rolled forward as he flew at her. Once she got back to her feet, she grabbed her weapons from her holster and turned. Stieg had tackled what had been coming up behind her.

  She really didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t human. Or even once-human.

  Purple and gray, the thing had reptile-like flesh. Even worse, it had a prehensile tail, the end of it like a talon that dripped something dark purple and ominous. It was creeping up to stab Stieg in the face.

  Erin charged the thing, but as she was diving toward its back, hidden twelve-inch black spikes sprouted from its spine, as if it sensed her coming. She dove over them instead of landing on the thing’s back and rolled to her feet.

  “Erin, run!” Stieg ordered.

  She ignored him and kicked at the thing’s head. Still holding Stieg down, it looked up at her.

  Erin saw those eyes—like a lizard’s—and she immediately thought, Nope, and shoved her blades directly into both its sockets.

  Squealing, it fell off Stieg and Erin held her arm out so he could pull himself up.

  The thing lay on its back, screeching and kicking and turning itself in a circle.

  “Kill it,” she ordered Stieg, unwilling to hear any more of that.

  Stieg grabbed the thing by its head and twisted hard until he’d turned it 360 degrees.

  Dropping it to the ground, he straightened. “There are more,” he told her flatly.

  “Yeah, I know. We need to get moving.”

  “No, Erin. I mean . . . there are more.”

  Whirling around, Erin saw a row of lizard things standing there, waiting for them. They stood upright, like men. Some had weapons in their scaly claws. Apparently it wasn’t just their tails that were prehensile.

  Erin allowed herself to despair. Her shoulders and head dropping; eyes closing; the air sadly easing out of her.