Alfheim Academy

by S. T. Bende

I took advantage of Dragen’s momentary disorientation and charged at his legs. The tip of my blade pierced his calf as he rolled again, leaving thick drops of blood trailing along the mossy dirt. Dragen hissed before turning his hand to the portal. His palm trembled as he withdrew an enormous mace from the other side. Thick, silver spikes rested atop a dull metal sphere, its handle smooth from frequent use. Dragen leapt to his feet, and twirled the weapon in his right hand.

  Double skit.

  A sharp movement drew my attention back to the Huldra. She held her hands high, fingers bent as if pulling a puppet’s strings. Signy’s arms dropped to her sides, and her spine straightened as she whirled in a dizzying circle.

  Signy swore. “Stay clear, Aura. My mind’s clear, but she’s got control of my body.”

  Oh, gods.

  Signy raised an arm to me. She fired a blast, but wrenched her hand at the last second to send the shot into a nearby tree. The purple-tipped evergreen had probably spent the last five hundred years standing in that very spot but it now dropped with a deafening boom, landing dangerously close to the academy’s back wall.

  “Look out!” Signy called as she fired off another shot. This one struck my armor with a vibration so fierce, it resonated through the shield and into the dirt surrounding my feet. I bent my knees to absorb the shock, stumbling as the waves coursed through me. In the distance, I barely made out Bob wrapping muscular paws around the Huldra and sinking his teeth into her shoulder. Good! If he could break the Huldra’s hold on Signy, I’d stand a way better chance of making it out of this forest alive.

  Dragen’s angry roar pulled my focus back to the mace-wielding psycho coming at me. With a grunt he swung his weapon in a tight circle. The air whistled with each rotation. If that thing made contact I’d be down a limb, and possibly a pulse. I darted to the right, away from where Signy now shot beams at a growling Bob, and positioned myself so my back was to the school. When Dragen charged, I raced for the courtyard wall. I planted one boot firmly on the stones and held my sword overhead, swinging with a decisive swipe as I flipped backward. My weapon struck Dragen in the shoulder, sending a warm, sticky liquid spraying across my face. I wiped the blood from my cheeks with one hand, then gripped my sword with crimson fingers and stepped to the side. Viggo lunged forward. He jabbed his sword through Dragen’s back and withdrew it with a thick squelch.

  Dragen turned, his expression equal parts anger and agony. He churned his mace in a violent sphere before thrusting at Viggo’s leg. My partner cried out as he limped forward, positioning his back to the school. I kept my sword high and moved to his side.

  With Dragen’s back to the forest, he didn’t see Wynter emerge from the direction of The Cloak—she must have decided to deliver her message in person. She held her fingers to her lips, and I distracted Dragen with another jab to his chest. He swung, easily parrying my sword with his mace. My breathing quickened as I struggled to hold the hilt of my weapon while keeping my armor strong enough to deflect the incoming surge. Dragen was throwing both kinds of attacks at me, and I didn’t know how much longer I could hold him off.

  “If you don’t hand yourself over, I will slaughter everyone you care about,” Dragen threatened. “Your defiance will cost you everything.”

  Dragen held up his palm. My armor deflected the blow, but the burn of its impact ricocheted, so white-hot pokers pierced my protection. My shield was weakening. Fast.

  Dragen whipped his mace in a circle so tight, it formed a silver blur. He lunged. I jumped to the side, and Viggo stepped behind Dragen. He swung his sword high, bringing it down on Dragen’s other shoulder, and sending a fresh splatter of blood onto the courtyard wall. Dragen let out a pained hiss. Behind him, Wynter positioned herself in front of a new portal, its black opening framed by a cerulean frost. She pointed to Dragen, then pointed to the portal.

  I focused my attention on my uncle.

  “This is my home.” I moved forward, jabbing my sword through Dragen’s thigh. When he limped backward, Viggo swiped at his calf. Dragen stumbled again, closing the distance between him and Wynter’s portal. “And nobody hurts Alfheim on my watch.”

  Dragen’s angry eyes widened as I threw down my sword. I raised both hands, drawing strength from the moss, the dirt, and the roots of the trees that stretched beneath forest floor. With a sharp exhale, I sent a surge through my palms. It launched Dragen into the air, forcing him through the new portal. His cape waved wildly in the wind as he shot through the darkness. With a final cry, he hurtled his mace out of the portal. Viggo’s pained cry tore at my heart, but the chaos to my right commanded my immediate attention. The Huldra had Signy pinned to the ground. Her knuckles whitened around my aunt’s throat while Bob lay unconscious on the dirt.

  “Signy!” I screamed.

  I took another draw from the ground before firing a surge through my palms. The blast threw the Huldra off Signy. My aunt hurriedly lifted her hands overhead, stretched her ribs across the dirt, and raised her palms to her attacker. The Huldra soared backward, her dress tearing on an errant log as Signy forced her through the ice-laden portal. Wynter brought her hands together with a loud clap, sealing the portal and locking Dragen and the Huldra in what I sincerely hoped was an unreachable, icy wasteland.

  Exhaustion swept over me as I let my shield drop. I fell on the dirt, gasping as my body finally acknowledged its infinite levels of pain. But the quivering in my arms, burning in my calf, and stabbing in my lungs were accompanied by a deep satisfaction. Dragen and the Huldra were gone. I’d lived to fight another day.

  Another groan from behind reminded me that the struggle wasn’t over. We’d vanquished the monsters, but we’d been hit. Hard. I whirled to find Viggo hunched on the ground cradling his knee. His leg was bent at an unnatural angle, with Dragen’s mace resting inches from his foot.

  “It got me twice.” Viggo nodded at the weapon. “I need a healer. That thing was probably laced with dark energy, and it’s leeching into my bloodstream.”

  I crossed to Viggo’s side and clasped his hand as he sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. I could only imagine the intensity of his pain.

  “Signy,” I called. My aunt raised her head from her prone position. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she called. “Just . . . sore.”

  “The mace broke Viggo’s leg and injected it with dark energy. Where do I find the healers?” I asked.

  “I’ll get them,” Wynter offered. She quickly moved toward the school, pausing at the courtyard door to ask, “Professor Bergen? Is the bobcat all right or should I bring a Dyr with me, too?”

  My throat clenched. Bob. I squeezed Viggo’s shoulder and hurried to my feline protector’s side. He lay on the ground, drawing rasping breaths as blood trickled from wounds too numerous to count. I felt awful—I’d let him down so terribly. Bob had looked out for me for years. He’d jumped realms and been turned into a gargoyle just to help me. How had I not protected him during this fight?

  “The bobcat is fine,” Signy croaked. “The Huldra did a number on him, but he’s going to heal.”

  I nearly collapsed in relief.

  “Thank gods!” I gently touched Bob’s back. He yowled. “Sorry. I’ll bet that hurt.”

  “You. Have,” Bob rasped. “No. Idea. How. Much.”

  “All of you stay there,” Wynter said. “I’ll get the healers, and a Dyr just in case. When everyone’s stabilized, we can check on Finna and Elin. The Elementär should be close to reattaching the crystal by now.”

  “Hurry,” Viggo groaned. He bent over his knee, seemingly hit with a fresh wave of pain. I stroked Bob’s face, then returned to my training partner.

  “You did great out there,” I offered as I sat beside him.

  “Thanks.” His voice cracked as he rocked forward. “This hurts like Helheim.”

  “I’ll bet it does. I’m sorry you got hit.”

  Viggo winced. “Not your fault. By the way, when I’m not in inexplicable agony, we’re going t
o have to talk.”

  My heart sank. “Talk?”

  “Yeah. About those things on our wings you lied about? And how we’re going to deal with them moving forward?”

  “How do you want to deal with them?” I squeaked.

  Viggo grimaced before doubling over. A second later, three white-clad healers came running out of the courtyard. They split up, heading to Signy, Bob, and Viggo, individually.

  “Was the kneecap the source of impact?” the healer closest to me asked. She carried a set of crutches with her, which she lay next to Viggo.

  “Yes,” Viggo grunted. “The dark energy already made it halfway up my quad, by the feel of it. It burns.”

  “I’m sure it does.” The healer turned to me. “You’ll need to give us some space. I don’t want this energy using you as a new vessel.” She held her hands over Viggo’s leg, and I scooted back. She moved her palms up and down his thigh in a slow line, repeating this motion for a full minute before planting her fingers firmly into the dirt and shaking them. Then she positioned her hands on either side of Viggo’s knee and told him not to look. “This is going to hurt.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as a horrific crack filled the air. Viggo’s grunt was followed by the stretch of unrolling tape. By the time I opened my eyes, the healer had Viggo’s leg reset, splinted, and tightly bandaged. His breathing was steady, but I could see the outline of a tear-track along his dirt-strewn cheek. I scooted closer as the healer helped him stand, then propped him up on a set of crutches.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I’ll live.” He grunted. “Professor Bergen and the cat look like they’ve seen better days.”

  Near the trees, one of the healers helped Signy to her feet. She limped slowly to Bob, who lay on the ground like a feline mummy, wrapped from neck to tail in bandages.

  “I think I preferred being a gargoyle,” Bob yowled.

  “I’ll bet. I’m sorry it’s been so—whoa!”

  I dug my feet into the dirt as a jolt rocked the ground. Seconds later a surge of white light rippled from the front of the school through the forest. The charge sparked every fiber of my being, from my toes to my hair.

  Oh, no. Not again. I jumped in front of Viggo.

  “I’ll cover you,” I promised him.

  “Stand down, Aura.” Signy looked to the sky. “That must have been from the Alfheim Tree. A light surge that powerful can only mean that the crystal has been restored.”

  “They did it?” I blinked.

  “I guess they did,” Viggo said.

  “Which means . . .” I swallowed hard. With the moment finally upon me—the moment in which I prepared to fight my grandmother for the right to rule our people as I saw fit—nerves thundered in my ears. What if the remaining Opprør—or, for that matter, the citizens—didn’t stand with me? What if I was about to confront the Queen of Alfheim with the backing of only a handful of underage students?

  What if I was about to fail us all?

  “Right. Well.” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip. “I’d better get this over with.”

  “Get what over with?” Viggo hobbled forward so he stood at my side.

  “I’m going to find the queen.” I picked up my sword, pulled my shoulders back, and drew a determined breath. “And I’m challenging her for the throne. Right now.”

  Chapter 22

  “YOU’RE GOING TO DO what?” Viggo’s jaw dropped to his chest.

  “I’m challenging the queen. If I don’t do it now, she’ll find a way to make everyone think she saved the tree, then use that lie to justify her barrier, or her ban on immigration, or the burning of innocent towns, or gods only knows what else.” I turned on one heel and stormed through the ivy door of the courtyard. If I didn’t do this right now, I might very well lose my nerve. And then we’d be even worse off than we already were.

  Just do it, Aura.

  “Stop! You shouldn’t confront her alone.” Viggo’s crutches thumped against the dirt as he hastened after me. “Professor Bergen!”

  “On it.” Signy sounded close, but I didn’t bother turning to check. “Aura, the queen could be armed. Or guarded. Or—”

  “Or sitting in a corner all by herself?” I stopped halfway across the courtyard at the sight of the Queen of Alfheim perched forlornly on the stone steps leading up to the academy. Her lilac wings hung limp at her back, two wilted appendages devoid of their usual shimmer. She’d wrapped her arms tight around her knees, her normally pristine dress was covered in winkles, and her hair hung in a lifeless curtain around her face.

  But Constance was a master manipulator—one who’d played a devastating role in my parents’ deaths, and who had stood idly by while her realm was torn apart from the inside. For all I knew, this desolate queen was nothing more than a decoy.

  “Where are your guards?” I demanded. When Constance didn’t answer, I tightened my grip on my sword. “I said, where are your guards?”

  The queen looked up, her eyes an endless, icy void.

  “Careful, Aura.” Signy’s voice was low in my ear.

  “I have this,” I hissed. My sword vibrated as tension rippled through me. Constance had welcomed darkness and fear and hatred into our world. She’d unleashed a dark elf, and a Huldra, and a political party hell bent on promoting darkness when the entire purpose of our realm was to spread light. She had forsaken not only Alfheim, but its citizens—the very ones she’d taken an oath to protect. She was a monster.

  And I would end her reign of terror if it was the very last thing I did.

  I stepped closer to Constance, my arm rising of its own volition. My sword wanted to drive through my grandmother; to end Alfheim’s tyranny once and for all. But as I stared into those empty, cold eyes, I forced my sword down. I would not become the kind of leader I’d observed. I would be the kind of leader I believed I could be.

  No matter how much I wanted to kill the queen.

  My fist tightened around my sword as I drew a steady breath. “Queen Constance. As crown princess of Alfheim, I hereby challenge you for the rights and powers accorded the monarch. Under your leadership, our citizens were forced to cede their voice to a regime that silences free speech, undermines progress, and seeks to return the light realm to a dark age inconsistent with the purpose our world was created to serve.”

  “I know,” the queen whispered.

  “Your government created a world in which—wait. What?”

  “I only ever wanted to protect my daughter. I never intended any of . . . of this.” As Constance’s gaze swept the courtyard, then rose to study the forest beyond its walls, I caught the vaguest flicker of remorse.

  What. The. Actual. Helheim?

  Constance closed her eyes. “I’ve been informed that you orchestrated a plan to recover and return the Sterkvart crystal, at great risk to your own life. You were willing to sacrifice your soul for the good of this realm. Why?”

  “Because this realm is my home. And I’m not about to let anyone—” I eyed the queen meaningfully, “—destroy it.”

  Constance’s lids fluttered open. “You believe I am a threat to Alfheim.”

  “You are a threat to Alfheim. Period. Your values go against everything our world stands for. You’ve destroyed families, broken communities, ruined entire ecosystems. Alfheim is dying because of you. And I can no longer allow the degeneration of my realm or my people.”

  “You believe you could rule more effectively?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But if something doesn’t change, there won’t be a Light Realm for either of us to protect.”

  Constance held my gaze for what felt like forever. Finally, she lowered her chin to her chest. “This isn’t what I wanted—not for you, not for Alfheim. I only ever wanted to keep my daughter safe.”

  “By building a wall to keep her out?”

  Signy placed a supportive hand on my shoulder.

  “It was never meant to keep her out.” Constance looked up, her eyes now
desperate. “I authorized construction on the barrier when Lily took up with the dark elf because I truly believed that he was using her to harm our realm. I didn’t know he was trying to defect; didn’t know his family wanted him dead . . . I didn’t even know that they’d had a child.”

  Wait. What?

  Wynter’s inky black hair appeared on the terrace. She darted down the stairs, skirting around the queen to stand at my side. The thud-hop from behind let me know Viggo was close. And Signy offered my shoulder a squeeze.

  But I couldn’t take my eyes off the queen.

  “What did you say?” I whispered.

  “Shortly before your mother died, my War Minister informed me that an attack party was approaching. Neither of us knew it was Lily the dark elves pursued, nor did we know she carried an infant with her. I agreed to activate the barrier in order to save my realm, never realizing my daughter and granddaughter would . . .”

  My gods, was the queen crying?

  “I didn’t learn of your existence until after Signy evacuated you to Midgard. It was the same day my guards discovered your mother’s body. I retreated to my summer residence; requested my Minister of Governance rule in my place. It was two years before I returned, and by then Fyrs Narrik had risen to power. He’d stripped the monarchy of substantial responsibilities; funneled many of my tasks to a council comprised of his most ardent supporters. By the time I emerged from my own darkness, I was a figurehead presiding over a shell of my former realm. The Kongelig spread hatred where there had been light, and my survival depended on going along with the new law. I should have fought harder; should have returned to governance sooner. And I should have sought the support of the few Opprør who managed to maintain power during the transition. But I was afraid. That fear paved the way for so much hatred. And for that, I am sorry.”

  I shook my head. “That was years ago. All this time you stood by while your realm—and your citizens—were destroyed.”

  Constance squeezed her fingertips together. “I convinced myself that Narrik’s narrative was true—that in order to protect our world, we had to preserve it; prevent any change coming from the outside.”