by T. G. Ayer
"Very well." She straightened, and I dropped my armor back in place and tugged the black coat back on. I tamped down the urge to shudder at being laid bare to this stranger. Such a reaction might get me in trouble.
Tyra frowned, then nodded slowly. "The wound displays the typical signs of being hindered in its healing by small amounts of a poison. Undoubtedly the result of drinking the Mead."
"I thought it would help me heal faster, but it did nothing for me." I shrugged, not too keen on raking through those memories. "Aidan needed the Mead more than I did, so I kept it for him."
"Aidan? Ah, yes, the young man Steinn told me about. The one whose life depended on the return of that foolish girl's trinket." I blinked in surprise. Had she just referred to Freya as a girl? Strange.
Tyra retreated a few steps, pausing to stir the dead embers in the fireplace. The dragon queen leaned forward and blew a thin stream of golden flame upon the cold ashes, bringing the dead remains back to life with the softest of touches.
Despite my annoyance and the slight touch of fear I felt for the forbidding woman, I was pretty impressed. She sure had fire skills.
"So where is the young Warrior?"
"In Hel," I said, and enjoyed the startled expression in her cool eyes. "The Mead weakened him so much that when we were attacked and he was stabbed with a poisoned spear, he was unable to recover. . . ."
I gripped the strap of my satchel and stared down at the sleeping girl, so innocent of the accusations that flew around her. "He's asleep just like your granddaughter. Odin sent him to Hel. He said that Hel was the only place that the poison wouldn't kill Aidan."
Tyra's eyes narrowed. "Why would Odin say that?"
"Something about Loki's poison and how it doesn't work in the underworlds," I answered. The truth finally clicked into place for me, one tiny fragment at a time, and I whispered my next words. "Loki's poison. A viper's poison."
"Did you say Loki's poison?" The dragon's voice rumbled, the low thunder of her words echoing around the room as she strode toward me. "Explain what you mean."
It was not a request.
"After we left Muspell, we returned to Asgard. Loki attacked us there, wanted Brisingamen. He'd been after the necklace the whole time." I gritted my teeth, not enjoying my trip down memory lane. "Loki stabbed Aidan with a poison-tipped spear. Aidan was already too weak by then. His body just couldn't fight the poison, and he fell into a deep sleep."
She stood before me now, listening carefully, and the tight corners of her eyes softened as we shared a certain sorrow.
"I see that you understand our pain," she said, her voice still edged with sadness. "Perhaps this is a good thing."
"It does seem that we have the same problem," I answered softly.
"You must make haste, Brynhildr. We do not know how fast the poison will act or if it may eventually kill them. But remember one thing, Valkyrie." The muscles in her face tightened as she spoke. "Do whatever it takes to obtain a cure. If you fail, I will personally kill you."
I blinked, my heart thundering at her words. Having my life threatened was not the most calming of experiences. "But I thought you understood this wasn't my fault."
She shook her head, her cold, gold eyes unforgiving and hard. "You brought this evil to our door, Valkyrie. If you had not come to Muspell for Steinn's help, Siri's future would have played out very differently."
I bristled. How dare this woman blame me for the girl's predicament? Just seconds ago she'd seemed to understand, to sympathize with what Aidan had gone through. Now she was back to blaming Bryn. Figures. Nothing much changes in life, I guess.
I wanted to tell her what I thought of her, to scream out my defenses, but she chose that very moment, when my anger was at its most potent, to glance again at the sleeping girl. Pure love and pain and despair swirled within the golden flames of her eyes.
It was enough to bring my jaw to a clanging close. I understood so well what she was going through. Maybe not as a grandparent but as a loved one. I'd lost everyone throughout my sorry life. Everyone. But I still had hope that things would change. Guess I was slowly becoming a glass-half-full kinda girl.
I lifted my chin and met Lady Tyra's eyes. "I'll do my best, my lady." But it was a promise to Aidan, too. Whatever I did, it was for Aidan first. A cure for Siri meant a cure for the boy who still lay comatose in the frigid arms of Hel. The sooner I got my act together and found the cure, the better.
Lady Tyra glided toward a small half-circle table that sat before the window. She had a strange way of walking, as if she moved on wheels or floated. Weird.
A bronze box sat upon the table's polished wood surface, firelight and dragon light glinting off the carved veneer.
She carried the box to me, bearing it on her flattened palms. Etchings of dragons curled around the sides. For one amazing second it seemed as if they moved. As I stared harder, one dragon turned its head toward me and stared back; bright red ruby stone eyes met my gaze. Then it blinked very slowly. My jaw dropped, and the dragon froze in place.
More weird.
Tyra slipped her finger beneath the ancient catch and lifted the lid, revealing a liquid red silk. Within the shimmering fabric lay an amber ball that had all the signs of being alive. A flame flickered and danced within the confines of the translucent orange sphere.
"Take it." The woman clearly didn't understand the concept of requests.
Transfixed, I held the ball with great care, surprised by its warmth, and transferred it to the palm of one hand. Although the flame shimmered within its center, the whole sphere gave me the impression of an eyeball. As creepy as it was, it still looked beautiful—until it shocked me so badly I almost dropped it on the floor.
The bloody ball blinked at me.
"It is disconcerting, but it is nothing to be afraid of," Tyra said, a smile in her voice.
"I'm not afraid." My answer was automatic, out before I could stop it. I didn't bother to look at her. Couldn't, in fact. My attention focused solely on the amber sphere that had just freakin' blinked at me. Nothing to be afraid of? Yeah, right. I'm not supposed to be afraid of a freakin' ball that has the very unnatural ability to blink.
"Keep it with you at all times. The eye of Nidhogg will watch over you."
There. She did it. She had to go and say "eye." Great!
"What is it supposed to do?" I was curious, of course. I didn't make a practice of hauling around dragon's eyes just for the fun of it.
"It will keep you safe. That is all you need to know at this time, Valkyrie Brynhildr." Lady Tyra's voice cooled as she met my gaze, her eyes matching the frigidity of her voice. "Remember this. If you are unsuccessful—if Siri, daughter of Steinn, heir to the kingdom of Nidhogg, dies—I will kill you."
I tried to answer her, but what escaped my lips sounded like a frog with a cold. I resorted to clearing my throat and nodding my head.
Lady Tyra smiled at me. A cool, threatening farewell.
Around her, a mist of gold shimmered and swirled until it thickened. Then my eyes confirmed what I'd already suspected. Steinn's mother slowly swirled into a cloud of golden dust. The tornado of gold mist spun before me, then collapsed onto itself and disappeared into thin air.
***
I had to admit it. As far as dramatic exits went, the golden tornado mist of Lady Tyra topped every one, hands down.
Tucking the dragon's eye into my coat pocket, I made a mental note to speak to Fen about the design of the new, slimmer version of the chainmail. What we needed were pockets.
I slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind me despite knowing nothing in the world could awaken the sleeping beauty, least of all a door slamming shut.
Mika leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded, jaw rigid. She was still scowling.
"Are you done?" She raised one eyebrow.
"Yes, let's go."
"Back to Asgard?"
I nodded.
"Very good, then. But you better be ready for it."
"Ready for what?"
"Do not tell me you are so naive," Mika scoffed. "You deserted. Fenrir, and Odin will be furious at this breach of protocol."
"Well, then I guess you and I will just have to explain ourselves, won't we?" I put a cheery edge into my voice. "You did want to come with me, Mika. And even if you felt the need to protect me, you're still as guilty as I am of desertion. I don't think even having a dad in high places will get you off this one without a good explanation."
The look Mika threw me would've frozen a river of lava solid. I laughed. Still so sensitive, Mika?
I laid my fingers on her forearm and hoped she wouldn’t pull away. "What's wrong? What did I say? I was only teasing, you know." I wondered what Mika wasn't telling me. Perhaps there were father-daughter issues that she just didn't want to discuss.
Mika's eyes darted away, then flicked back to my face, as if in that brief millisecond of thought she'd decided what her response would be. "That is your downfall, you know. You just cannot take things seriously."
I laughed and shrugged, relieved to see her answering grin. "Come on. Let's go home."
We hurried into the first passage and came upon Steinn, seated on the little rocky outcropping, scraping his long fingers through his dark golden hair. He got to his feet, looking slightly startled and very, very worried. "I see you are ready to go."
"I have as much information as I could get. I'm sorry, Steinn. I never meant to bring this to your home."
He laid a palm on my shoulder. "Silly child, of course this is not your fault. I just need your help to find a cure."
Steinn may not have blamed me, but his mother sure had. What would he say if I told him that Móðir dearest had threatened to kill me if I failed in this task? But he had enough on his mind right now. The last thing I wanted was to weigh him down with further worry.
He guided us back toward the Bifrost, and I followed, paying scant attention, my mind focused on the breadth of Loki's cruel mischief.
God or not, he'd better watch his ass.
Chapter 23
We followed Steinn toward the Muspell entrance to the Bifrost. This time the journey seemed to take forever. Plenty of time for me to dwell on the weight of guilt I bore. So many ifs.
If Aidan hadn't come to Craven, he'd be a normal, healthy human kid right now. If we hadn't been so careless, Astrid wouldn't have seen us making out in Valhalla, and then Freya would never have known she had the power to manipulate me using Aidan. If we hadn't been so complacent about Loki, we would've been prepared for his attack and Aidan wouldn't have been stabbed. If I'd just had nothing to do with him, he'd be a powerful Warrior now instead of lying comatose in Hel.
And if none of this had ever happened, we wouldn't have met, and I wouldn't have learned how wrong I'd been about giving my heart away. It had been worth it just to experience a little bit of exhilarating joy. And yet a part of me paused. Why had I stopped when I meant to say I loved him? Instead, my instinct chose the word care. My feelings for Aidan had rollercoastered ever since the first day we'd met. From instant attraction to heated dislike to heated kisses. Nothing had ever followed a normal trajectory with us. He'd even deserted me when I'd needed him most. And if I was being really honest with myself, we'd barely had a real relationship. The closest we'd come to a date was a burger and fries in a dingy motel room somewhere between Illinois and New York State.
I longed to see him again. And have him hold me close again. Maybe once I got him back, we'd be able to try the whole normal couple thing, figure out what it was that we had with each other that was more than just rapid heartbeats and hot kisses. Besides, we had a lifetime to figure it out, what with being almost immortal and all.
My fingers found the smooth surface of the dragon's sphere in my pocket. I made to draw it out, to study it further, but instinct kept my hand within the private darkness of the pocket. Tyra's warning hadn't gone unheeded.
I twisted the ball within my fingers, again trying to understand what it could be. It certainly wasn't the eye of a real dragon. Or was it? No, it was silly to even contemplate such a thing. It was just a magical ball given to me by the dragon matriarch for protection. She wouldn't put me in danger while I tried to find a way to save her granddaughter's life. Would she?
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Tyra knew I was an asset. The best thing to do was just go with it. That didn't mean I had to trust Steinn's mother, no matter how powerful she was. But right now I needed all the help I could get, and I didn't see anyone else getting in line to offer me aid of any sort.
I bore in mind that Tyra had a strong stake in this—the life of her bloodline. What had she said? That Siri was heir to the Nidhogg throne. That, right there, was a majorly good reason to find a cure. And soon.
At the bridge, Steinn sent us through with a cool nod to Mika and a slightly more effusive hug for me. This time the swirling, multi-colored beauty of the bridged entrance failed to grab my attention. I couldn't help the sadness that filled me. Mika, on the other hand, gazed at the array of rainbow colors, as startled and entranced as I'd been on my first trip back from Muspell.
We landed in the transfer room, throwing greetings at a pair of goggle-eyed Warriors donning their weapons for their next scouting mission. The two einherjar's responses were stilted, almost hesitant, and I shared Mika's worried scowl. Word had certainly gotten around fast. And from the look of it, we were in deep doody.
We hurried to Odin's hall, and I crossed my fingers behind me as I entered the monstrous room. At the back of the hall, I could make out the human form of Odin, seated quietly with one raven on his shoulder. The black bird bent his head as if listening to my footfalls, then turned to stare straight at me with those beady, glossy black eyes.
In a blink, he was whispering into Odin's ear. I should have known what would happen next. I shouldn't have been surprised.
Odin rose to his feet, and slowly the form of the grey-haired old man shimmered and expanded; colors swirled, solid and liquid and dusty, rising higher and higher into the air until they all solidified into the God Odin, the mighty All-Father.
His golden armor gleamed, the glare poking me in the eye. I tilted my head and looked up. Way up. In that moment I recalled the first time I'd ever seen the All-Father in his godly form. The day he'd given me my wings. Being the first Valkyrie ever to be born, rather than made, I was something of an anomaly. Even the granting of my wings had been more of a formality, since they would've appeared at some point in my life anyway. But despite my ability to flout the rules of the Norse gods, Odin hadn't cast me out. He'd taken me in, given me a home and a life and the truth of my soul.
And right now he was furious with me.
"Valkyrie Brynhildr!" he roared. Well, to be honest, he only spoke my name, but his huge form and my huge guilt amplified the sound in my head, and I quivered with the requisite amount of fear in my veins. "Do you know what you have done?"
"I'm sorry, my lord." I bowed my head, not daring to look at his face any longer. The disappointed, mottled red of his anger was too much to bear. I actually felt guilty, when I'd done nothing wrong.
"Your apology is far from sufficient. Fenrir and the teams have been searching all of Midgard and Asgard for you. What you have done is tantamount to desertion."
I risked a glance at Mika beside me. She'd been right.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble." I dared to look up. And my heart gave a little leap at the hint of softening in the eye of the All-Father. But the time for apologies was over. I had to tell them the rest. "Something terrible has happened, and I had no choice but to gather as much vital information as I could before I came to you."
A shuffling behind us announced a new arrival.
Odin turned his attention somewhere over my shoulder. "Ah, Fenrir. We have your two missing warriors here, safe and sound." I didn't dare turn to face him.
Fen walked around us to Odin's side and turned to face us. When he met my gaze, the blood
in my veins iced over at the depth of anger and disappointment in his lupine eyes. His emotion must have been hard to control if he hadn't noticed that partial transformation.
He crossed his arms, his muscles bulked and threatening. "Explain yourselves."
My heart thudded insistently against my ribs, but when I spoke my voice was clear and strong; I hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. "While we were in Vermont, I received a visit from the Nidhogg."
Odin and Fen shared a concerned glance. Well, at least that got their attention. I gave them a rundown of everything that had happened, from the black goop on the Warrior in Vermont to Steinn's arrival and our travels to Muspell to poor Siri in her inexplicable coma, to the moment we left with Lady Tyra's instructions to find the cure. But I kept two pieces of information to myself: the dragon eye and the cold fact that the dragon matriarch had put my life on the line. Fen's face remained stony throughout my monologue.
When I fell silent, drained after everything I'd been through and overwhelmed by everything I still had to do, the All-Father sat back and sighed. "Lady Tyra is no fool. And if you say the child's symptoms are remarkably similar to Aidan's, then perhaps we do have a case of poisoning to consider." Odin leaned an elbow on the ornately carved hand rest of his throne, the expression in his single grey eye warmer, as if placated by my explanation. I hoped he would forgive me.
The All-Father looked toward the entrance of the hall, and I turned to watch my friend Sigrun enter. She paused as she drew abreast of me, her eyes flitting back and forth between my face and Odin's and Fen's. She must have made some decision in those fleeting moments. Her jaw hardened and she smiled at me, leaning in for a great big squishing hug. I grinned, blinking away heated tears of gratitude. Sigrun had definitely been worried about me.
I glanced at Fen and Odin. Could it be that much of the anger that they'd directed at me was a result of how much they cared for me? Mika's mention of desertion had prepared me for a solid reprimanding, if not punishment, but I'd forgotten that my relationship with Odin and especially with Fen went way beyond the simple teacher and god parameters.