Defender (Night War Saga Book 2)

by S. T. Bende

  “Grab on to me, Allie. And bend your knees when we land!” Tore yelled over the roar of the rainbow. I threw my arms around his chest, and he tucked me to his side. He held on tight as the Bifrost pulled us upward, away from the safe house, and into the atmosphere. My bones threatened to shoot right out of my skin as the transport rocketed us through the sky. It slowed just long enough to drop us unceremoniously over what I hoped was our destination. My knees buckled as my feet hit the ground, the jarring sensation sending shards of pain up my legs. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out as blades of agony pierced my shins from the inside out. The blades jabbed harder as I crumbled to the ground, landing hard on my butt.

  “Ouch!” I yelped.

  “You okay?” Tore bent down beside me, concern lining his normally-stoic features.

  Between the Bifrost-induced nausea and the nearly shattered tailbone, I most certainly was not okay. The gently rolling hills and blossoming trees of Nidavellir swam in and out of my pain-blurred vision, and it took half a minute before I realized there was a massive, jagged mountain range resting somewhere behind them. I blinked forcefully, willing the sea of greens and greys to come into focus. At the same time, I tried really hard to not throw up. The entire bottom half of me was in unbelievable pain.

  “Allie?” Tore’s pitch went up a note. “Can you hear me? Mack, run a medical scan on her. Make sure she’s all right.”

  “No, I’m fine.” I forced myself to focus, and the pain rushed back. Crap. I took a slow breath, willing the unpleasant sensations to get the hell out, already. “Or, I will be, right after my super healing kicks in and fixes the shin splints. Or whatever’s making my legs feel like they’re—ouch!” I sucked in air through my teeth. “Like they’re on fire.”

  Beside me, Mack shook his head at Tore. “You should have carried her in.”

  “She has to learn to Bifrost on her own. What if we have to evacuate her solo from one of these little pleasure trips?” Tore glared at Mack, but he brought his hands down to cup my lower leg. The pain ebbed slowly, but it was enough to let me breathe normally again. Some Asgardians were born with the natural inclination to heal, but from what I’d gathered, the healing gene had mostly skipped Tore. Thankfully, he seemed to have picked up a few abilities from growing up with his healer mom—like fixing Bifrost-induced shin splints.

  “Teach her to land in Asgard or Alfheim,” Johann chided. “Nidavellir’s a borderline realm—with all the darkness that’s touched it, our bodies are averse to the atmospheric impact.”

  “No, he’s right. I need to learn to do things for myself. Especially if—” My breath caught as I broke off, my physical pain giving way to life-preserving fear. “Wait, did you say borderline realm?”

  “It’s okay, Allie,” Bodie assured me. “Johann’s just talking about the dragons.”

  He’s what now?

  I scrambled to my feet as my mind filled with the nightmarish image of fire breathers considerably larger than the one that had wreaked havoc on Mack’s living room rug. Fire breathers with barbed tails, scales, and in all likelihood, wings.

  Oh, hell to the no.

  “It’s okay; the dragons are good here, Allie,” Bodie reassured me.

  “Well, most of the time,” Mack corrected.

  My stomach lurched. What did he mean most of the time? I wrapped my hand around the hilt of my barely-still-sheathed sword and spoke through gritted teeth. “Somebody better start explaining the mostly-good dragons to me. Real fast.”

  Johann turned in a slow circle in the clover-strewn grass. He scanned the hills, the mountains, and the tree-dusted open space behind us. He was either stalling for time or searching the skyline for the dragons that threatened to push my sanity right off the crazy cliff. “We’re secure,” he said, before turning to me with open arms. “Here’s the deal. There are two breeds of dragons—”

  “There are about fifty breeds of dragons,” Mack interjected.

  “I’m simplifying,” Johann huffed. “Fine, there are two varieties of dragons. Light dragons and dark dragons.”

  “You really don’t understand the biology behind them, do you?” Mack sighed.

  Johann moved to stand in front of my lumberjack friend. His positioning prevented him from viewing Mack’s pointed head shake. “The dark dragons live in Helheim—they work for Hel, the ruler of the underworld, and do pretty much whatever demonic deed she orders them to do. You don’t have to worry about those dragons here. The dwarves kill them if they ever try to enter Nidavellir.”

  “Dwarves kill dragons?” My voice was barely a squeak as anxiety churned in my gut. Apparently, the Norse dwarves were the polar opposite of their diamond-mining, cheerful-singing, animated Midgardian cousins.

  “They have to,” Tore interjected. “They can’t have the dark ones infecting the native dragons.”

  Of course not. Silly me.

  “The dragons that live here are on the side of the light,” Bodie chimed in. “They have allegiance to Nidavellir, Asgard, Midgard, and Vanaheim.”

  “Dragons have allegiances?” I questioned.

  “Dragons are fiercely loyal.” Johann ran his hands over the black spikes of his hair. “Legend has it the Alfödr created the original race of dragons to be guardians of the light. But darkness infiltrated a handful of the creatures, and when the Alfödr tried to cut the darkness out of them, two orbs emerged from each affected dragon—one white, one black. The Alfödr tried to eradicate the dark orbs, destroy them like we destroy the black energy that seeps from the night elves when they die. But the orbs moved too quickly. They morphed into two distinct spherical masses, creating two mega-balls of darkness. Those two balls entered the bodies of the two strongest dragons—one male, one female. The white orbs returned to the remainder of the beasts, and their descendants—the light dragons—now populate Nidavellir. Those are the dragons from human myths—the ones whose scales have magical, healing properties.”

  Ice-like fear danced along my spine, and my hand flexed against my sword. I was so not interested in a tombstone that boasted Death by Dark Dragon. “What happened to the dragons who got the black orbs?”

  “Hel summoned those two dragons to Helheim and cultivated the darkness within them. Two grew to four, then eight, and now her realm is populated with a race of black-hearted fire breathers.” Johann crossed his arms and looked Mack in the eye. “A race comprised of multiple, genome-spliced species. Not just two. Happy?”

  “I suppose.” Mack shrugged.

  I shuddered. Johann’s talk of the two orbs rising from the affected dragons reminded me of what I’d seen when I killed that rat. Maybe I really had put it out of its darkness-induced misery.

  Tore cupped his hand around mine and pushed my sword back into its sheath. I hadn’t realized I’d begun to pull it out. “If you kids are done with your little science chat, we need to get moving. Mount Einermajer is a half-day’s hike from here, and we didn’t call in our arrival.”

  “Meaning?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “Meaning, we didn’t want to alert anyone that we had a lead on the next piece of Gud Morder, so we didn’t tell the dwarves we were coming. So, they didn’t tell the dragons we were coming. But we can sure as skit assume they saw the Bifrost drop in, and they’ll be here soon to investigate.” Tore tightened the straps of his backpack.

  Oh, God.

  “But we’re coming from Midgard; we’re on their side. That means they’re loyal to us, right?” Hope laced my tone.

  “Ja. But dragons aren’t big interrogators. They won’t ask for our passports; they’ll just kill us on sight when they see us with all of our weapons.” Tore shrugged. “Their job is to protect, and ‘strike first, ask questions later’ is the safest strategy for their realm.”

  Fan-freaking-tastic.

  I adjusted my own backpack and marched determinedly forward. “Then let’s go scale Mount Einstein.”

  “Uh, Allie?” Bodie spoke up from behind me.

  “Mm
m?”

  “Mount Einermajer is that way.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, where my four protectors wore looks of barely-contained amusement. Bodie pointed to a green-covered mountain range that was much too far in the distance for my liking.

  “Right-o.” I did an about-face and marched in the opposite direction. My boots dug into the earth as I made my way across the field of dewy clovers, past my protectors, and toward the mountain I still could not pronounce. When none of the guys matched my pace, I turned around and walked backwards. The four of them stood still, covering their grins with their hands. “What?”

  “That way.” Bodie’s arm hadn’t moved.

  I followed the sight-line of his finger and realized the mountain he pointed at was a few degrees to my left . . . and considerably higher than the one I’d been heading toward. Fabulous. I planted my boots in the clovers and stared down the peanut gallery. “Fine. One of you trailblazers want to lead the way? Since you clearly know where you’re going?”

  “I’ll do it.” Tore snuffed his grin and jogged forward until he stood at my side. Mack followed at a more dignified pace. “You ready?” Tore asked.

  I planted my hands on my hips and resumed my backward walk. “I am, but I don’t know what’s holding them up.” I jutted my chin at the still snickering Bodie and Johann. “What are you guys waiting for? Get your butts over here. It’s time to hunt down another piece of Gud Morder.”

  * * * *

  Three hours into our four-hour hike, I started working on my pitch to get a secondary Protector Palace in Nidavellir. The countryside was absolutely gorgeous. With its rolling green hills, fields of yellow flowers, and small caves tucked into the mountains, the realm reminded me of pictures I’d seen of Ireland. Our walk had been blessedly uneventful, and I was mentally congratulating our team on what was looking like an easy retrieval.

  Naturally, that was when we stumbled across two limp feet sticking out from beneath an enormous boulder.

  Crap.

  At the sight of the lifeless feet, my protectors circled around me and drew their weapons. Tore held up a fist, and we all went perfectly still, save for the corpse-induced nausea that swirled violently in my gut. After a beat, Tore pointed to the ground. He crouched low, creeping on bent legs toward the boulder, with Mack, Johann, Bodie, and me in tow. The churning in my stomach increased as we drew upon the large, grey stone. The legs still hadn’t moved, and they produced nothing by way of an energy signature—their owner was very clearly dead.

  Oh, God.

  I clutched my stomach, willing it to retain its contents, while Mack and Johann dropped their weapons and shoved their hands beneath the boulder. Strain lined their faces as they struggled to overturn it.

  “A little help?” Johann grunted.

  Tore sheathed his sword before stepping in, adding his considerable strength to the endeavor. The three of them overturned the stone, revealing a red-haired dwarf with garishly grey skin and a cloak covered in blood. The enormous gash across his neck made it clear his throat had been sliced before someone had deposited a massive rock on top of him. The dwarf’s eyes faced heavenward, frozen open.

  I turned away from my protectors and bent over to rest my elbows on my knees. Deep breaths did little to stop the bile sloshing in my gut or the anxiety gripping my heart. But they did ground me enough to remember that whoever killed this dwarf could very well be nearby. And we needed to move. Fast.

  “Is this normal for this realm? Are there . . . dwarf bandits?” I turned back to my protectors but kept my eyes off the bloodied corpse.

  Tore shifted his gaze from left to right. His nostrils flared as he drew a long breath, and his sword was back in his hands before I could blink. “It was the night elves,” he hissed. “Mack?”

  Mack nodded in confirmation. “They were definitely here.”

  My energetic grounding promptly disappeared. RIP, grounding. “You can smell them?” I squeaked.

  “I smell evil and sulfur. Don’t you?” Mack picked up his bow.

  “No.” I shivered. “But if you pick up the scent of sheer, unadulterated terror, don’t worry. That’s just me.”

  In an instant, the guys re-formed their tight barrier around me. Their weapons were drawn, and they looked uncharacteristically uneasy.

  “We’ve got another hour before we reach the mountain. We’ll be sitting ducks.” Bodie scanned the horizon. Beside him, Mack breathed slowly in and out, no doubt trying to meditate his way out of this nightmare. Tore stared at a crop of boulders about sixty yards ahead, while Johann broke formation to kneel beside the dwarf. His rough hand ran along the decedent’s face, gently closing the fallen dwarf’s eyes.

  “Rest in peace, brother,” he said softly.

  My heart squeezed with affection. Tore stepped over to pat Johann’s back, then bent to pick up a golden horn that lay a few feet away. The instrument was about six inches long, etched with intricate detailing, and looked to be made of solid gold.

  “What’s that?” I asked nervously. If it in any way connected us to this dwarf’s killer, I was ripping it out of Tore’s hands and chucking it in the nearest blooming tree.

  Tore slipped the horn into his pocket. “The victim was a dragon master. They carry these instruments to call their charges. Each horn’s pitch is unique to the animal it summons. This man’s dragon will respond to the call of this horn.”

  A dragon master. Holy hell. If it wasn’t for the fact that we were standing next to a dead body, in imminent danger of suffering the same fate at the hands of some crazy night elves, I’d have asked a lot more questions. As it was, I asked only one.

  “Why are you picking up his horn? We do not want a dragon showing up here.” I blinked at the calm expressions of my clearly insane protectors. “We do not want a dragon showing up here,” I reiterated. If the guys thought otherwise, I was calling Heimdall and hightailing it back to Canada solo.

  “You’re thinking a dragon might be our emergency exit plan, aren’t you?” Bodie asked.

  Tore simply nodded.

  Oh, come on. They had to be kidding me.

  “Allie, we’re going to do a bit of running now. You good with that?” Tore sounded calm, but the worry lines framing his eyes let me know he was every bit as freaked out as I was. We were totally exposed and apparently on the verge of summoning an escape dragon. On purpose.

  “I’m good with the running.” My gaze settled on Tore’s pocket, where he’d hidden the dragon-phone. “It’s your extraction plan I’m not okay with.”

  “Just trust me.” Tore sheathed his sword and took off at a jog. Was he seriously pulling the trust card? Whatever. With a huff, I followed him in the direction of the mountain. Crops of boulders sprung up at intervals along the hills, and we hugged their lines for shelter when we could. But for much of our trip we were completely in the open, easy pickings for any observing night elves. Each time the thought crossed my mind, I picked up my pace. By the time we were halfway to our destination, I was flat out sprinting. My feet hit the ground in rhythmic strides, each step striking the clovers with enough force to slam my backpack against my lower back. I didn’t complain—none of us did. We needed to find that weapon piece before the monster who’d stricken down the dwarf found us . . . or before somebody pulled the evac card and whipped out the gold-horn-of-doom.

  It was all fun and games until somebody called in the dragon.

  A shriek from the sky brought our sprint to an abrupt halt. My neck tweaked as I wrenched my gaze skyward, where a large silhouette passed across the sun. It had massive wings, a long neck, and what looked suspiciously like a mace at the end of its thick tail.

  “I’m hoping that’s one of the friendly dragons?” I croaked.

  “Get to the boulders!” Tore barked.

  He didn’t have to tell me twice. I lowered my head and raced for cover, pumping my arms back and forth like my life depended on it. In all likelihood, it probably did. I sent a silent prayer to whatever deity I wa
s supposed to be praying to these days that I didn’t die in a dragon-induced, demigod inferno. And I threw one more wish into the cosmos, just for good measure.

  Dear Universe, Please don’t let the dragon flambé my hair, either. Or any other part of me. Xoxo, Allie.

  The wind behind me picked up, sending my long hair over my shoulder. When it covered my face, I ceased arm pumping to pull strands from my eyes, all the while wishing I’d had the foresight to choose braids before embarking on a recon mission. Lesson learned. A fierce flapping sounded directly behind me, and I sent the universe a second request, this one asking that the flapper be a previously undiscovered species of giant, benevolent butterfly.

  Apparently, the universe was on a donut break.

  “Allie!” Tore shouted. He’d reached the boulders ahead of me and now looked up in horror.

  I spun around on my heels as an honest-to-God dragon landed directly in front of me. A freaking dragon. The beast was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. He was a kaleidoscope of blues, with the navy scales atop his back fading down his sides to a crystalline teal at the chest. His eyes were emerald green with pure black slits for pupils, and his nostrils puffed white smoke as the creature huffed in my direction. He lowered his head to the ground and sucked in a deep breath. The air around me chilled. As did my blood.

  “Should I be freaked out that he’s sniffing me?” I whisper-screamed over my shoulder.

  “Probably,” came Bodie’s muttered reply. “Be careful, Allie.”

  Without thinking it through, I flared the Liv in my chest and ran it down my arms. It only took a second to mold the light whip into shape, and I brandished it determinedly at the fire breather. If this dragon was anything like the rat from yesterday, I knew how fast he would be able to shoot flames. And I wasn’t about to let Big Blue roast me or any of my friends. Bring it on, dragon.

  The light from my whip reflected in the dragon’s eyes, and the black slits of his pupils blazed blue for the briefest of moments. With a snort, the beast lowered its head. He kept his head tilted down and his eyes to the ground as he walked toward me. Either the dragon was putting on an act, or he was trying to let me know I was running this little meet-and-greet.