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Dead Embers

Page 23

by T. G. Ayer


  I placed the goblet and the pestle and mortar on the floor before me, and bent my head to stare at the golden Glasir ring around my middle finger.

  I'd grown so used to seeing it there, never removing it. I had to admit it had never given me the kind of comfort that my amber pendant had once given me, but it had sustained me in its own way.

  My fingers traced the ridges of the shimmering golden leaf, then I pulled it off my hand, my heart lurching at the thought of pounding my precious leaf into dust.

  I had no choice.

  To save Aidan and Siri, I'd do just about anything. Dropping the leaf into the mortar, I began to pound it; each blow reverberated through the hall, and I felt the vibrations in my bones. Just minutes later, the bowl contained a little pile of fine gold dust.

  Frigga bent over the mortar and nodded. "That will do." She rose to her feet and summoned a Huldra with the flick of her fingers. Heaven knew where they hid, only to appear as soon as Odin or Frigga wanted them.

  The goddess sent the Huldra scurrying off to fetch Mead. It didn't take long before the red-tailed girl returned, carrying a tray that bore a small goblet of Mead, which Frigga handed to me. "Pour the powder into the goblet, then mix in the Mead. If the Mead changes to the color of blood, then the antidote will still work. Any other color means the power of the goblet is destroyed."

  I swallowed, just staring at her until at last she beckoned for me to continue. It was now or never. There wasn't a prayer in the world that could change the way things were if I'd destroyed the goblet.

  My hands shook as I poured in the golden dust. The silken sand swirled so smoothly into the rough-hewn base of the goblet. Next, I dribbled the Mead into the goblet, twisting the cup around and around in my hand to help the powder dissolve easily into the whirlpool of liquid gold.

  My breath grew stale within my chest. I stood very still as I watched the golden liquid, watched it so hard I refused to blink.

  Nothing.

  It didn't change. The Mead just sat there in the lumpy goblet looking all gold and beautiful and disappointing. Tears burned at my eyelids and pooled in my throat. I feared that even an attempt to take a breath would bring me to my knees.

  At long last, I blinked and lifted my gaze toward Odin and Frigga, my face crumpling and hot and aching. But even as I did so, Lady Tyra's soft gasp caught my ear, and my eyes shot back to the goblet. Within the golden swirling liquid, a thin line of red spun around and around, growing larger and thicker as the dust continued to mix into the Mead.

  A choked sob erupted from my throat, and the dammed tears dissipated in the wake of such relief. With each passing second, the liquid bloomed redder and darker, until no sign remained of the Mead. Now the cup just held a thick red liquid that bore an eerily similar sheen to fresh warm blood.

  Of all the amazing colors to choose, why, in heaven's name, did it have to be blood red?

  In my mind's eye a vision shifted into startling clarity: Aidan's blood staining my palms. The thought of the unconscious duo of Siri and Aidan brought me back to a question I'd pondered often, before the shattering of the goblet. A question that I hadn't dared to voice yet. Who would get to use the elixir first? Would Lady Tyra expect me to give it to Siri first, or would she want me to try it on Aidan to see if it worked? Had I been in Tyra's shoes, I would've done just that—ensured the elixir worked before letting my child drink it, even if it meant using someone else as a guinea pig.

  Or would I?

  Maybe I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to endanger the life of an innocent person just to ensure Aidan would live.

  I took the coward's way out and glanced over at Tyra, hoping she would make the decision for me. She drew closer, her rich skirts swishing on the smooth marble, to stare at the swirling liquid. It still spun in a tiny whirlpool even though I'd stopped twirling the goblet a long while ago.

  "I think perhaps your young man would need the elixir first."

  I couldn't hold back the soft sigh of relief that passed my lips. Neither could I bear the thought of the little girl having to wait any longer than necessary. "Can't we just both take half?"

  Tyra shook her head. "I suspect the elixir will only work while it remains within the goblet." Tyra glanced past me, looking to Odin for corroboration.

  "The Grand Lady Tyra is correct, Brynhildr. You will need to take the goblet and the elixir to Aidan and revive him first."

  I hesitated. "But what about Siri?"

  "Siri can wait, Brynhildr." Lady Tyra grasped my arm in an uncharacteristically tender move. "It is just a matter of time before my grandchild drinks of the cure, and time means naught to her. Perhaps time is more important to you and to your young Warrior. So please. Go to him and make him better. I know you will not be long; therefore I will wait here."

  "Brynhildr, Tyra is right," said Odin. "Aidan must be attended to first. The scout teams are in need of bolstering, and Brody is still somewhere out there waiting to be rescued."

  Odin's words struck me with a shuddering force. I'd been deep within the bowels of Swartelfheim, battling evil dwarf queens and fighting for my life against my traitorous Ulfr partner, and for me, the real world had pretty much ceased to be. Now that I'd returned to Asgard, I was reminded of the grave danger to all the einherjar. Reminded that life wasn't going back to normal. There was no normal anymore.

  "Come, Brynhildr. I will take you straight to Freya's Hall." Odin's voice echoed a little in the gigantic room. He held out his hand, beckoning me to take it. Was he really asking me to hold his hand?

  I tried to contain my surprise, but I didn't do a very good job. Odin laughed at my confused expression. "The gods have a special access to the Bifrost. We are able to enter it at will, and wherever we require it."

  I remembered how Freya had disappeared with Aidan in her arms. In just a blink, she'd been gone. And then, for the first time, something made a lot of sense. "Is that how Sigrun brought me to Asgard?"

  Odin nodded, and his single eye crinkled at the corners with a smile. "You are very astute, my child. I helped Sigrun to go to your home and bring you to Asgard safely. When the gods use the Bifrost, the trip is a little different."

  "Speaking of the Bifrost, my lord, the Lady Tyra has enquired about Heimdall." I frowned, since I still had no idea who this Heimdall person was. Admittedly, my Asgard general knowledge was still sadly lacking.

  Odin's face darkened and he sat back down on his throne. I gulped, suddenly afraid I'd asked the worst question possible, but I couldn’t retract it. And, now that Odin's scowl made the answer seem more intriguing, I no longer wanted to take it back.

  "Who is Heimdall, my lord?" I ventured the question.

  Odin's smile had disappeared, his face now just terribly sad. "Heimdall is the guardian of the Bifrost."

  "What happened to him? I've never seen him around."

  "Many moons ago, we discovered that Heimdall had disappeared from Asgard," said Odin, his voice now as sad as his expression.

  "Disappeared?" Tyra interjected, her tone a tad too loud and shrill.

  "Yes, Tyra, my dear. One day, a few months ago, Heimdall was just not here. Gjallarhorn was gone too."

  "Gjallarhorn?" I asked, too confused to keep silent, despite the tension hanging in the air.

  This time the All-Father seemed to welcome my question. Maybe he realized I had a few sizeable gaps in my Asgard knowledge. He stroked his chin as he answered. "Heimdall possesses a horn called Gjallarhorn. It is the horn with which Heimdall is meant to summon the gods when Ragnarok commences." He shared a worried glance with Frigga, and she leaned over to squeeze his hand between hers.

  If Odin needs comforting, then this Heimdall thing must be bad.

  "And without the horn?" I asked.

  "Without the horn, the task of summoning all the gods will become ten times more difficult. The call of Gjallarhorn can be heard across all nine realms. Such is the power of Heimdall's horn."

  "And you have not sent anyone to look for h
im?" Tyra snapped, her eyes blazing, almost accusing. Her bold reprimand shocked me. No one spoke like that to the All-Father.

  Odin shook his head, a deep sorrow shadowing his single grey eye. "No, Tyra. We have no idea where he is or if he will return."

  "And what does Mimir say?" The edge of an angry challenge still sharpened Tyra's voice.

  "Sadly, Mimir cannot tell. He can see nothing but shadows, not even a glimpse of Heimdall's life or future."

  Something told me this was very, very bad. My gut clenched with an unknown fear for the missing god.

  "But why, why would he leave?" Tyra stuttered, almost pleading for an answer.

  "He did not just leave, my dear. Gulltoppr is still in Asgard," said Odin, his voice neutral though his single eye still blazed. With what? Anger or fear? Or a little of both?

  I risked another interruption. "Who—"

  Tyra answered before I even finished my question. "Gulltoppr is Heimdall's golden stallion. I know Heimdall; he would never leave his beloved horse behind." She glowered at Odin. "There must be something we can do."

  But Odin shook his head, the weight of his sadness forcing him to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees. "Mimir has no sight of him, Tyra. You must understand we have no idea where to look. And we are so shorthanded we cannot spare anyone to go looking on the off-chance of finding him."

  Tyra nodded, though her jaw hardened, the muscles tensing in her cheek. Odin rose and stepped off the dais. He paused beside the dragon matriarch and touched her shoulder. And then I understood that perhaps Heimdall meant more to Tyra than a mere acquaintance, or even just a friend. Odin squeezed her shoulder, then walked to me.

  "Come, Brynhildr, we must hurry. Hold on to that goblet, my dear." Odin beckoned, and I hurried to stand beside him. I wasn't keen to test his patience by taking my own sweet time or asking any more ignorant questions. I wanted to get to Aidan as fast as was possible.

  "Keep calm, and take care of the goblet."

  Okay. Goblet, got it. Can we go already?

  And then in a few short moments I stood in Freya's Hall, my stomach churning and an invisible tornado whipping my hair about my face and sending the feathers on my wings aflutter.

  Chapter 34

  Odin blinked away in a rush of air, but I barely noticed. I was too busy trying to keep hold of the contents of my stomach. I blew strands of hair out of my face and swallowed repeatedly. Despite the warmth of the wood and the fires, Freya's empty hall felt hollow, spiritless, as if no ghost or shadow dared to linger.

  I tread cautiously across the wooden floor, gripping the goblet, careful not to tilt the fragile glass, so careful not to lose a drop of the precious bloody liquid. My concentration on the elixir took my eyes off my surroundings for a few brief moments, and I paused and scanned the room again, my heart knocking hard against my ribs.

  Empty dais, empty throne, empty hall.

  No Freya, and, more importantly, no Astrid.

  I let out a little sigh of relief . . . then wanted to kick myself. Why the hell should I care whether Astrid was around or not? I'd proved I could fulfill a task that even the Warrior Brunhilde had been unable to complete. I'd shown Astrid up, lived up to her challenge, proved I had better sword-fighting skills than she had.

  And yet I still felt a slight trepidation at the thought of facing Astrid again. The girl just plain didn't like me. In fact, I'd bet my sword that she hated me.

  I headed toward the double wooden doors to the right of the dais, hoping my memory was good enough to guide me to Aidan's room. But I didn't get more than a few steps farther before a sudden rush of feathers and air swirled toward me. The faint scent of perfume trailed the gust like an invisible scattering of petals.

  Guess I should have known better than to think that Astrid would pass up an opportunity to get me alone. She hovered before me, pristine wings outspread, sending a deceptively gentle breeze toward me. She looked decidedly angelic.

  Well, with Astrid what you see certainly ain't what you get.

  No way was I going to give her the satisfaction of craning my neck to look up at her. I just kept an eye on the distance between her hands and the gleaming hilt of her sword.

  I really didn't want to fight, not here, not now. I'd spill the elixir for sure, no matter how careful I was. But I didn't dare set it on the floor. Not with Astrid armed and in kill mode right in front of me. All I could do was wait for her next move.

  Astrid landed; she touched the ground with the tip of a graceful toe, her hair floating around her in soft blonde clouds. She exuded a beauty so ethereal, so angelic, that it just didn't seem fair to me, because Astrid possessed a heart as icy as the depths of Hel's frigid wastelands. Not to mention the fact that she was far too eager to relieve me of my head.

  I didn't plan to give her the chance.

  "I see you have returned, Brynhildr," Astrid said, her tone amused, with a hint of arrogance.

  Yeah, tell me something I don't know. But I kept that thought to myself, saying, "I have the elixir. I need to see Aidan."

  With my eyes glued to Astrid, and holding the goblet as steady as I could, I took a few careful steps toward the double doors that would take me to Aidan's room. But Astrid rose and flew right into my path, a hard challenge in her eye. Her cool blue gaze trailed my precious burden, and my stomach lurched. I imagined the irreplaceable liquid freezing over from the touch of her stare. But I met those ice-blue eyes head on, refusing to allow her to intimidate me.

  "Do you really think that elixir of yours is going to help Aidan?" Her sweet voice echoed gently around the pillared hall. I hated the way she said Aidan's name, as if she knew him so well.

  How well can a girl get to know an unconscious guy, anyway?

  "It will work. Odin confirmed the elixir will work." I wanted to throttle myself as soon as the words left my mouth. I sounded like I was trying really hard to convince myself that it would work. And I’d just given Astrid every reason to try to sabotage me.

  The answering smile on Astrid's face confirmed she knew how desperate I was, knew the power she had over me. "Oh dear, Brynhildr. Do you have doubts now? I hope I was not the one who sowed the seeds of doubt in your mind." The fake sincerity in her voice sounded almost perfect, and then she spoiled it all by laughing. A laugh that grated even when it sounded halfway angelic.

  I steadied my nerves, relaxing the desperate hold my fingers had on the goblet. As Astrid's laughter petered away, I took a few slow, small steps backward to the nearest table along the wall, and set the goblet down as fast as I dared. The ruby liquid sloshed, but thankfully nothing spilled. To the right of the goblet sat an array of ancient daggers. They gleamed malevolently, and reflected in each shiny blade was Astrid's cold, blue-eyed glare.

  Without the burden of the goblet, I was free to grab my sword if and when I needed it. I faced Astrid, never taking my eyes off the other Valkyrie. She was certainly no friend. Never had been. I found it hard to believe Sigrun's revelation that Astrid had been part of Brunhilde's life, and that the guy she'd loved had left her for Brunhilde. Sad story, and if it were true I could understand a bit of her coldness. But I could never accept her icy, bitter hatred for me. I'd done nothing to her and yet she hated me as if I were the one who'd stolen her boyfriend.

  My thoughts touched on Aidan, and I hoped that Astrid hadn't decided that he was up for the taking, since he was here in Hel with her.

  Alone. Without me.

  My hands quivered, but I focused on Astrid and bounced lightly on my knees. My wings fluttered at my back, reminding me that I actually knew how to fly now. The other girl would find herself equally matched should she decide to fly away. Which she did. As Astrid trained her gaze on my face, she rose into the air, her eyes a deep, impossibly dark shade of blue. She hovered above me at least by a head.

  I gave a quick nod and shook out my wings. Rich rusty red, both wings puffed wide behind me. Astrid raised an eyebrow as if to say Yeah right, you are no match for me. That was
okay with me. She would soon have to think again. I rose slowly, bringing myself to her level, my wings fluttering lightly at my back.

  Astrid's eyes widened, their cold blue paling to an almost colorless ice. Her jaw worked as she gritted it, probably struggling not to ask me when I'd learned to fly. A little glow of joy ignited somewhere deep inside me, reveling in the knowledge that in some tiny way I'd already triumphed over Astrid.

  I tossed her a tiny smile. "I take it you aren't going to let me pass?"

  She just glared.

  I reached for the sword at my waist and so did Astrid. Both metal blades sang as they left their scabbards. Although Astrid's sword possessed a beauty in its own song, it was no match for my sword.

  The sword of Brunhilde.

  The musical note rang around the hall, echoing repeatedly, swallowed at last by the shadows in the furthest corners. Astrid remained silent while my sword sang. If possible, her pale skin lost more color as the sound enveloped her. Her cheekbones stuck out starkly and, for a few seconds, she appeared a haggard, skeletal woman. I felt a little sorry for her. What must it be like to hold hate so close to one's heart for centuries?

  We hovered a few feet off the ground, circling each other slowly, white and red wings fluttering, shedding a feather every so often. The hall fell deathly quiet, except for the susurration of shivering feathers and the thick malevolence of imminent battle.

  Astrid struck first, and I would've thought she'd have learned something from our last battle on the field with Fen, before Freya had decided to use Aidan against me. She put her full fury behind the lunge, screaming her rage with vicious ferocity. Her strike was filled more with anger and passion than precision and intention, and it went wide. I ducked the blow with ease, spinning around to meet Astrid head on, careful to position myself between her and the goblet.

  She struck again, this time breathing deeper, clearly calming herself, her chest rising and falling. Learning from her mistakes. Her eyes flashed blue fire, and she still gritted her teeth. Changing her tactic, she used a series of short sharp stabs rather than long sweeping swipes.

 

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