I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled at Freyja. “That was dumb. I want a proper trip.”
Yngvarr snorted and approached the gate. I think Keira rolled her eyes at me. I looked behind me to see if I could find that damn rainbow bridge but there was only a wide expanse of green field with a river cutting through it on the horizon. “Wait a minute,” I protested again, “even in my dreams with Havard he traveled between Asgard and Midgard on horse.”
Freyja grabbed my arm and forced me to uncross my arms then slipped her hand back into mine. “Pout inside the walls where it’s safer, Gavyn,” she scolded, but it was an amused reprimand, and I couldn’t help wondering again how she’d want to punish me.
The enormous gate swung open as Yngvarr approached it and a man stood on the other side—or a god, probably. I mean, we were in Asgard. As soon as he swung the gate closed behind us, I turned to him and asked him why I couldn’t cross this rainbow bridge on a horse.
His eyes darted among Freyja, Yngvarr, and Keira. “Is this Gavyn?”
“Disappointing, isn’t it?” I asked him.
He stared at me and didn’t seem to know what to say. Yngvarr just laughed and finally answered my question. Not the one about being disappointed that I was this great hero they’d been promised, but the one about the rainbow bridge. “It’s out there. Heimdall can see it from his watch tower. This is so much faster though.”
“Then why did Havard travel to Midgard by horse?” Implicit in my question was the desire to know where we actually were. Was Asgard like some parallel universe to Earth? Above it like a heaven? I mean, where the hell was I?
Keira was already walking away from us and when she started talking, I had to follow her to hear what she was telling me. “Why does it matter? Maybe it was just personal preference because while it’s faster to just appear between here and wherever we want to go on Earth, there’s no journey along the way. And most gods enjoyed the journey. They wanted to make stops, find someone to fight, some treasure to take back home. It probably didn’t seem worth leaving Asgard if there was no journey. And he’d still have to travel somehow once he got to Midgard. Crossing the veil will bring us between worlds, but it won’t get us from one place to another once we’re there.”
Freyja nodded and I thought that may be one of the few times those two women ever agreed on anything. “Gods bore easily. Those trips often give us something to do. Now, though, we just cross over and rent a car.”
“Of course you do,” I muttered.
We’d reached the top of the hill we’d been climbing and for the first time, I was able to look down on Asgard. It was exactly as I remembered it from Havard’s memories. Soaring palaces reached toward the bright blue sky and the golden roof of Valhalla reflected the sun’s rays, casting bands of golden light over this mystical land. We were too far away, so I’m almost positive it was only in my imagination, but I thought I could almost hear the clinking metallic sound of swords as the fallen warriors engaged in combat in the field beyond Valhalla’s walls.
Rows of orchards dotted the horizon, and the barley and rye fields stretched out to the massive stone-gray wall that surrounded us. It seemed as if nothing had changed. In those hundreds of years that must have passed from Havard’s memory of this place to now, Asgard had stood timeless and unchanged in its magnificence.
I caught Keira watching me as I looked out on her homeland, my eyes filled with the awe this place inspired. “It’s incredible, isn’t it?” she asked.
I nodded but had one of those rare speechless moments. I’m sure vodka could have cured that.
Keira’s eyes drifted down to where Freyja’s hand was still clasped within mine, and she turned away from me and began walking again. Yngvarr seemed happier here, his step lighter and less burdened with the thoughts of an impending war with Sumerian gods and their own heroes, maybe even of his dead brother. He was home, and he clearly loved this place. And that made me love it, too.
Freyja pointed to a palace in the distance. “That one’s mine,” she told me.
I was far less interested in her palace than the ones neighboring it. In my second dream when Havard had sent a messenger to her, he’d thought Freyja was the closest goddess to him. That meant Yngvarr must live near here, too. I finally spotted a stable that I knew once housed a horse named Magni, who had been strong and fast and more than a little stubborn about who could ride him.
“There.” Yngvarr pointed to the tall spires next to the stable. “That’s where Havard lived.”
I had that same odd shifting sensation as I stared at the tall gray palace nestled in a valley between two of these lush green hills of Asgard. I knew it was coming. Whatever part of Havard had survived through the centuries and lived now in me was both glad to be home and horrified that he was here again. And he was anxious to return to his palace.
“Come on,” Yngvarr said. “Let’s get breakfast at my place. Geirr will make sure we have a meal worthy of your homecoming.”
Freyja was already pulling me after Yngvarr, and only Keira tried to correct him. “It’s not his homecoming. He’s never even been here before.”
Yngvarr just shrugged her off and kept walking, but Keira was uncomfortable by the way Freyja and Yngvarr were talking and behaving. She stepped between Freyja and me, forcing the goddess to let go of my hand, which she didn’t appreciate and was quick to let Keira know. “Go. We’ll be there in a minute.” Keira’s tone of voice made it clear she wasn’t backing down, and apparently, whomever had told her I was her responsibility was pretty damn important because even Freyja didn’t argue. She just narrowed her eyes and glared at Keira for a moment before telling her not to take too long.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Keira grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face her, which forced me to look away from the stables and palace where Yngvarr was heading.
“Gavyn.” She said my name in that same voice she’d used to try to comfort me after the explosion at the Staples Center. “Don’t let them convince you to become someone you aren’t. I know it’s difficult, but you have to learn how to separate your own feelings from Havard’s.”
I blinked at her then waved off her concerns. “Yeah, I know.”
“Do you?” she asked. “Because Yngvarr is acting like you’re his dead brother he can’t even remember, and Freyja is treating you like the lover she once couldn’t win over. And you’re just letting them.”
My cheeks warmed as I glanced toward their retreating backs. I hated that she was right, and I certainly wasn’t going to admit it. But I never had the chance to argue with her, because a man’s voice called out, “Gunnr, what are you doing here?”
Keira flinched and glanced over her shoulder where a man with an eye patch stood staring at us. I hadn’t seen him approach and wondered if he had approached us or just appeared out of nowhere.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said. “It wasn’t my idea to come here.”
The god I assumed must be Odin even though he didn’t look much older than me glanced in my direction then sighed. “All of Asgard has been buzzing about this lost god you’ve been dreaming about, Gavyn.”
“I guess that means you don’t remember him either,” I said.
Odin shook his head. “No one does. I don’t even know who’s so powerful they could force us all to forget. I thought I was the most powerful sorcerer among the Aesir, but I don’t know how to force widespread memory loss.”
“Maybe whomever cast this spell isn’t Norse,” I suggested.
Odin tapped his chin thoughtfully then shrugged. “Perhaps. I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Odin, the All-Father to the Aesir. Welcome to Asgard.” He extended his hand and I shook it even though Havard’s memories and feelings warned me not to trust this guy.
“Any chance you know of a magical sword that glows like a lightsaber when it’s unsheathed?” I asked. I wasn’t even sure why I suddenly wanted Havard’s sword.
Odin raised an eyebrow at me and nodded. �
�Now that I’ve heard of, although I thought it was just a legend. It’s known as The Sword of Vigrid.”
“Vigrid?” I repeated. “Who’s that?”
“Not who, what,” Odin corrected. “It’s a place here in Asgard.” He paused to gesture toward the valley where Freyja and Yngvarr were walking, their palaces spiraling into the Asgardian sky on the horizon. “Vigrid is the name of the field where many battles of Ragnarok are prophesied to take place, including the one that will lead to my death.”
I shifted my weight between feet as I cleared my throat nervously. Odin’s single eye turned away from the field toward me, so I lowered my gaze. “That obviously isn’t the same sword. Havard’s memory indicated it was a present when he was born, so if it’s going to be named after someone or something, it would be him.”
“Except he went through the trouble of having a curse cast on all of Asgard,” Keira pointed out.
“If it’s really Havard’s sword, how does Odin know anything about it then?” I asked.
Keira shrugged. “Maybe it’s not the same sword, but since Odin thought the Sword of Vigrid was only a legend, he doesn’t know where it is. And we’ll probably never know either.”
I squinted at Odin and folded my arms across my chest. “If you’ve got magic skills, put them to use and figure out how to restore everyone’s memories. Maybe I’ll stop having these dreams.”
I wasn’t really sure I wanted to stop having them though. Havard already seemed like a part of me.
Odin blinked his one eye at me and asked, “Why exactly are you here again?”
“Freyja.”
“Never mind,” he sighed. “You shouldn’t stay too long though. The Sumerians will soon decide not to waste anymore time trying to force your submission and just move on to whatever the second phase of their war is.”
“Aren’t you a war god?” I said. “Why aren’t you on Earth trying to stop those assholes?”
“Gavyn,” Keira hissed. “Knock it off.”
But Odin answered me anyway. “What makes you think I’m not looking for them? Gods aren’t so easy to track, Gavyn. I’m afraid we’ll end up having to meet them on their terms.”
I was about to tell him they’d be far easier to track if someone would just get their cellphone numbers when Keira’s phone buzzed in her pocket. I stared at it stupidly instead, and she returned my stupid-stare before pulling it out of her pocket. “Freyja,” she muttered.
Odin smiled slyly at me and asked, “Is she distracting you? Do you need me to entertain her for a while?”
“Dude,” I snapped. “You’re married.”
He’d just shot me his own stupid-stare when Keira grabbed my arm and dragged me toward Yngvarr’s palace. My stomach rolled as she forced me inside where not much had changed compared to Havard’s memories. Even Yngvarr’s servant, Geirr, appeared exactly as he had in my dreams.
“Breakfast?” Yngvarr called from his table.
I sat across from him even though I was no longer hungry at all, and Geirr immediately set a plate in front of me. It seemed normal enough—ham, eggs, and some sort of dark bread—but I just stupid-stared at it now.
“Want something else?” Yngvarr asked.
I shook my head. “Have you ever heard of the Sword of Vigrid?”
“No, but Vigrid’s the field outside my palace. Why would there be a sword named after it?”
“Odin said there’s a legend about a magic sword that acts like Havard’s, and it’s called the Sword of Vigrid. But he’s apparently the only one who’s even heard of this legend, so it doesn’t seem all that legendary.”
“That is strange,” Yngvarr agreed. “But Odin knows all of our ancient stories better than anyone else. If this one is really obscure, it’s not all that surprising he knows about it while the rest of us don’t.”
“And you’re assuming no one else does when you’ve only asked Yngvarr and me,” Keira added.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I guess Havard’s sword could have been modeled after this fantasy sword, right?”
Keira nodded and plucked a fork from the table so she could eat her breakfast, but I still didn’t have any interest in food. I glanced over my shoulder toward the stairs that would lead to Havard’s bedroom and asked Yngvarr, “His room was the third on the right. What is it now?”
Yngvarr glanced up from his plate. “Guest bedroom. Never found anything unusual in there. Maybe he cleared it out before this curse was cast.”
“So no ornate, glowing swords lying around your palace?”
Yngvarr shook his head. “You’re welcome to look.”
I smiled weakly back at him and rose from the table. Keira lowered her fork, and looked up at me. “I’ll go with you.”
“Again: if you have to worry about assassins in Asgard, I’m fighting for the wrong side.”
“Smartass,” she mumbled. But she got up anyway and followed me up the stairs.
Havard’s room no longer resembled the room I’d seen in my dreams. I had no idea how much time had passed since his death, but it could have been centuries. It only made sense that Yngvarr would have redecorated, but I was still disappointed. I opened drawers and even looked under the bed, but there was no sign of a magic sword.
Keira sat at the foot of the bed and watched me for a few minutes. Downstairs, I heard the jingling of jewelry followed by Freyja’s voice as she joined Yngvarr in his dining hall. Keira’s eyes narrowed at the open doorway, and I pretended to be terribly interested in a painting of what appeared to be Valkyries riding their winged horses, swords raised above their heads. I pointed to it and asked, “Which one is you?”
“It’s just a painting, Gavyn.”
“You don’t have a horse with wings then? I’ve never actually ridden a horse, but I’m willing to bet I could ride the hell out of a winged horse.”
Keira’s mouth opened as she gawked at me. “What does that even mean?”
Honestly, I had no idea. I was just trying to break the weird tension that had erupted in the room with Freyja’s arrival. “So yes or no on the flying horse?”
She rolled her eyes but the corners of her lips also turned up in the slightest of smiles. “Yes, I have one. And no, you can’t ride him.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “If you fly horses the way you drive, I don’t want to be around anyway.”
Keira’s phone buzzed again, and she glanced at the screen then inhaled a sharp breath. “It’s Tyr.”
My mouth became sticky as I waited for her to answer her phone, because if Tyr was calling her here, the Sumerians had finally launched their war.
Chapter Seventeen
Agnes gestured toward a chair in front of a laptop and instructed me to sit, so I obeyed. Ally or not, that woman was terrifying. A video began to play, featuring the same four Sumerian gods who’d destroyed the Staples Center and the Louisiana capitol building. This time, they were standing in the middle of a football field, and it took a few seconds for me to realize why it looked so familiar.
They were in New Orleans.
“We’ll bring America to its knees first,” Inanna said. “And when it’s been beaten into submission, we’ll conquer the rest of the world.”
The camera panned out and for the first time, I was able to see the gods weren’t alone this time. Standing on the field with them was a sea of men and women. I hit pause on the video and complained, “They have an entire army of heroes.”
“Demigods,” Agnes muttered. “So unreliable.”
“There must be a hundred of them,” Tyr said. “How are we supposed to fight that many people?”
I still couldn’t challenge Agnes so I looked at Cadros and snapped, “Where are all the Irish demigods? You need to start pulling your weight here.”
Even though I’d avoided snapping at Agnes, she answered me anyway. “My sisters have been out looking for them. It’s not so easy to track down descendants of gods, you know. And they have to be old enough to fight but young enough that they still can.”
I grunted at her so she grunted back at me.
“Child,” she mumbled.
“Witch,” I mumbled back.
“Hit play,” Frey sighed.
I squinted at Agnes but hit play to resume the video. The camera began to shake, and a low rumbling in the background warned me I was about to insist Keira get her flying horse so I could go to New Orleans right now. As the Superdome began to crumble around them, Hunter and I let out a simultaneous groan.
As the debris cleared and the camera stilled, the group of gods and heroes came into focus. They were untouched by the demolition of one of my favorite buildings in the entire world, as if a bubble had been erected all around them. Their heroes didn’t even look scared. I’m pretty sure I would have pissed all over myself if I’d been standing on that field.
“For those willing to surrender and therefore live, hang a white flag outside your home or business,” Inanna continued. “Otherwise, you will meet this fate.” She paused to gesture to the rubble surrounding them. “Now you’ll see, Gavyn… fear is the strongest motivator in the world.”
“Whoa,” I exclaimed. “Did she just say my name?”
“Um…” Hunter stammered. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to pretend not to know you for a while.”
“Why is she addressing only me?” I squeaked. I clearly hadn’t been re-masculated.
“Doesn’t matter,” Agnes interjected. “We go to New Orleans and fight.”
I shook my head, prepared to argue that I’d only been training for a week—I wasn’t ready to face an entire army of gods and demigods—but Agnes snapped her fingers and ordered the other gods to start packing. And they all just listened.
Cowards.
After another twelve-hour flight, during which Agnes tried to get me to read Irish mythology but I’d refused, we had to drive to the outskirts of New Orleans then sneak into the city. Fortunately, they didn’t have all the back roads cordoned off, but it still added another three hours to our trip. By the time we stood outside the skeleton of the Superdome, almost twenty-four hours had passed since its destruction and even emergency personnel within the city seemed to have vanished.
Sword of Secrets (Heroes of Asgard Book 1) Page 17