by S. T. Bende
Or, he was just getting close enough to eat me.
“What’s he doing?” I hissed at Tore without pulling my eyes from the twenty-foot-tall monster.
“Not sure,” he hissed back. “Keep that whip live, Pepper.”
“You think?” I muttered.
When the dragon was directly in front of me, he bent his front legs in a sort of a kneel. He turned his head so his cheek rested on the clovers, and his eyes blinked up at me with surprising warmth. He looked like he was either presenting himself for my approval or wanting me to climb on his back and ride him. Was he insane? Could I even do that? Hold up, Allie. Do you even want to?
Curiosity clubbed fear over the head and chucked it into one of the nearby caves. I was totally going to pet that dragon. And quite possibly take him for a spin. I was officially out of my mind.
“Back away slowly, Allie.” Tore’s voice sounded closer now. He must have snuck up behind me.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered.
The dragon’s head snapped up at the sound of Tore’s words. He reared on his hind legs and shot a fierce stream of fire just above my head. I fell backwards into Tore’s thick arms.
“Skit,” Tore swore. He threw an arm around my chest and muscled me to the ground, pinning me beneath his massive frame. My cheek hit the clovers hard, and from the corner of my eye, I caught a blur of movement as Mack raced forward. Somehow, he’d gotten hold of the horn. He put it to his lips and blew, emitting a sharp tone that echoed off the mountaintops.
The dragon whipped his neck around at the noise. He let out a fearsome roar and spread his wings before flying high into the sky.
“Are you crazy, Allie? Please tell me you were not about to touch that thing.” Tore pulled me up.
“I . . .” I didn’t have an answer. I’d obviously had a fit of temporary insanity. Who the hell tried to touch a dragon? Or worse, ride one?
Mack nudged me forward, horn still in hand. “Let’s move. Blowing a dragon’s horn in the face of another member of its species is an act of aggression. We’re lucky the one who took off seemed partial to you, but it may yet return to challenge me. Besides, the dragon I just called will be here soon. And unless it happens to be related to the other one, it will be fairly agitated when it picks up the blue dragon’s scent.”
Great. So, dragons were territorial. And, apparently, they knew whose horn was whose. Mack sounding the dragon-phone must have tipped off Big Blue that someone else would be coming, hence the quick departure. So much for my dragon ride.
“Which way?” I asked.
“Head to the mountain. Don’t stop until you get there, no matter what happens. Understand?” Tore’s command came out all growly. His long hair was a tangled mess beneath his snug, black beanie, and ordinarily, I would have taken a moment to appreciate the sexy display of dominance. Or the fact that, after weeks of waiting, I’d finally found myself pinned beneath Tore’s tight body—albeit only to avoid death by dragon. But I was too preoccupied with not becoming reptile fodder to do more than give a curt nod.
“Understood.” I took off at a sprint with my protectors on my heels. It took longer to reach the mountain than I was comfortable with, and while the dragon Mack summoned seemed to be taking its time showing up, I kept nervous eyes on the sky. We didn’t stop running until we’d reached a damp, dragon-free cave at the base of Mount Ein-whatever. For a merciful, terror-free moment, I was able to catch my breath inside the silent, rocky sanctuary.
And then the dwarf arrived.
CHAPTER FOUR
“SHOW YOURSELF, KARVIR. YOUR dragon circling Mount Einermajer. She frantic, search for you.” The deep, guttural voice shouted from outside the cave. It sounded gravely. And intense. And furious. So, the fallen dwarf’s name had been Karvir. May he rest in peace.
“What’s the call?” Bodie whispered to Tore. “Converse or kill?”
Kill? So much for this being a friendly realm. The poor dwarf was just trying to figure out who blew on his friend’s dragon-phone. He obviously didn’t know his buddy was deceased.
“I’ll deal with the dwarf.” Tore grimaced. “If he hasn’t found his dead friend yet, he might believe we’re on his side and help us.”
“Or he might take one look at your resting angry face and think you killed his kin.” Mack shot Tore a look. “I’ll go with you. And I’ll do the talking.”
Tore bristled. He opened his mouth, and I was sure he was about to unload some choice words on our friend. But the dwarf resumed his shouting outside our cave-sanctuary, and Tore gave in with a resigned nod. “Fine. You lead. Johann and Bodie, stay here, and guard Allie.”
“Or I’ll guard them,” I countered. Girl power.
“That too.”
Mack tucked his bow over his shoulder and walked out of the cave, palms facing upward in the universal sign of ‘don’t shoot me with your dwarf weapon.’ Tore gave a mighty eye roll but sheathed his sword and mimicked the pose. I inched my way toward the opening so I could peek out without being seen. So long as Mack did the talking, they might both make it out alive. I hoped.
Outside, Mack and Tore walked slowly toward a red-haired dwarf that could have been Karvir’s twin. He had the same long hair and scraggly beard, and his own golden horn was tucked into a pouch attached to his leather belt. But unlike Karvir, who now slumbered in eternal tranquility, this dwarf was three and a half feet of live fury.
Anxiety resumed its grip on my heart. I knew Tore and Mack could take the dwarf if it came to it. But we’d just escaped a dragon, and God only knew what other creatures lurked outside of our cave. Pacifying an angry dwarf did not fit in with our drama-free exit strategy.
Though these days, what did?
I poked my head further out of the cave. Though I kept myself hidden from view, I was still able to see my two most disparate protectors approach the dwarf. They were a study in contrasts—one a bearded, lumberjack yogi, and the other a massive bundle of pure Asgardian irritation. The dynamic duo neared the dwarf, each bringing completely different approaches to the introduction table.
This promised to be interesting.
The dwarf warily eyed my protectors as they moved toward him. When Tore’s combat boots crunched on some loose rocks, the smaller creature whipped out his weapon and brandished it in front of him with a growl.
“Greetings from Alfhiem.” Mack held his voice in Zen mode, as if he led a guided meditation. I knew his low tones were meant to calm everyone listening in, and maybe they would have, had Mack’s audience been human. But instead of Namaste-ing with my protectors, the dwarf pulled his attention away from Mack, looked Tore square in the eye, and spat at the ground in front him.
“Greetings from Asgard.” Tore spoke through clenched teeth. In typical Tore fashion, he was as un-Zen as possible.
Mack dropped to one knee, presumably to make himself less imposing, and pulled out the golden horn. “We found your friend near the boulders, dead. He smelled of night elves. We’re here to retrieve an object we believe is hidden atop this mountain and to help you avenge your fallen comrade.”
The dwarf made a strangled noise as he stumbled backward. “Karvir?” He looked out into the valley in disbelief. Then his eyes fell on the horn in Mack’s hand. “This is ruse! My brother strongest dwarf I know. Nothing best him—not even night elf.” His clipped speech came in sharp gasps.
Bodie stepped out of the cave. “It’s not a ruse. I can show you.”
The dwarf eyed Bodie wearily.
“I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.” Bodie held his hands a foot apart, shooting waves of energy between them. “You’ll be able to witness what we saw of your brother right here. Then, you can go with us up the mountain to kill the dark elves hiding there. Or you can refuse and . . .” Bodie let the implication hang in the air.
“And you’ll die like your brother,” Tore offered. Mack struck his leg out, kicking Tore in ankle.
The dwarf’s face scrunched up in distaste, and I wondered i
f he was going to spit at Tore’s feet again. Instead he glared at the Asgardian and seethed. “You just like father. Things no change. Ever.”
The words seemed to suck all the air from the space. Tore froze, his chest caving inward as if he’d been stabbed in the heart. My stomach plummeted in a sickening free fall as I took in his haunted eyes, slackened jaw, and the way the rest of our group looked at him with . . . was it pity? How did this dwarf know the God of Revenge? How did he know Tore?
With a tip of his head, the dwarf motioned Bodie forward. “Play your memory.”
Just like that? He was willing to trust Bodie? Either this dwarf knew something about my protector I hadn’t the first time Bodie had memory-balled me, or he genuinely believed Tore intended to kill him. Poor guy.
Bodie pulled his hands apart, and the image of Karvir pinned beneath the boulder flickered between them. As the rest of the scene played out, I fought the urge to step closer to Tore and squeeze his hand, give him a gentle hug, anything. He’d told me he wanted nothing to do with Revenge, and though his energy remained closed off, I knew the dwarf’s comment had cut him deep. I wished I could help him somehow. It was hard to see him hurting.
The memory of Karvir’s bloodied body faded to black between Bodie’s hands. A silent tear fell down the dwarf’s face as he wiped snot onto his sleeve. “Dark activity surround mountain for days. Handful of assassin dwarves went up hill to investigate. Most dragon masters clear out. Karvir and I want nothing to do with it. Took our dragons home. Thought safe.”
He looked crestfallen, his mud-colored eyes and bulbous nose dripping tears and snot. Even though the dwarf had hurt Tore, he clearly grieved the loss of his brother. Resting my palms to my sides, I took a step forward and emerged from the cave. Johann followed close behind, but I waved him back and continued toward the dwarf. As I moved, I scanned his energy from his head downward. A gaping, black mass had settled over his heart center, leeching the color from the vibrant, green energy beneath. It wasn’t the black of dark magic that I’d sensed in the night elves. This shade was different. It was organic, self-inflicted. The dwarf was in mourning.
A warmth built in my chest, and without thinking, I stopped directly in front of the heartbroken creature. I ran the pulse down my arm until my hand glowed with the Liv. The dwarf’s mouth formed a circle, and he looked from my blue hand-ball to my eyes, then back again. Recognition dawned, and he dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “Blessings, goddess.” After a pause, he stood, looking up at me with a vulnerable gaze.
My throat pinched with emotion. There wasn’t anything I could do to bring his brother back, but I could do something to ease his suffering. It was all I could offer, but it would have to be enough.
“Allie, what are you doing?” Tore wrapped his fingers around my wrist, but I pulled free with a head shake.
“Healing,” I said. I knelt before the dwarf, so we were almost eye to eye. His pain was so raw it nearly overwhelmed me. Instead of walking away, I strengthened my protective bubble and held up my hand. The glowing, blue ball reflected in the dwarf’s muddy eyes. “May I?” I asked.
The dwarf grunted his consent, and I placed the Liv over his chest. The creature’s breath hitched as the blue entered his energy. It coated the blackness like a salve, diminishing the vacuous darkness until it became a light grey, then a wispy white. Green pulsed faintly beneath the filmy layer of sorrow, and I knew that someday the dwarf’s heart would be as vibrant as it had once been. A tear rolled down the creature’s face, and he reached his hands up to clutch mine. His eyes shone with gratitude.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I replied. I genuinely was.
Now that his heart was no longer heavy with mourning, he managed to give a small smile. “Karvir with gods now. Cause much mayhem, no doubt.”
“No doubt.” I smiled back.
“Thank you, goddess. I owe you debt.” The dwarf spoke in earnest. “How I repay for healing?”
“Well,” I paused, looking around at my protectors. “We don’t know the mountain very well. And apparently, my friend here summoned your brother’s dragon. We need to get the relic we came for and get out of your realm as soon as possible. Any chance you’d be willing to help us track it down? Please?”
The dwarf bowed his head. “It be my honor.”
I reached behind me to elbow Tore in the ribs. “See what happens when you ask nicely?”
Tore cleared his throat. I turned my head, expecting to find an annoyed and impatient demigod. But what I saw sent a surge of emotion straight through my heart. Tore’s haunted expression was gone, replaced by a look of utter adoration. No freaking way. Tore Vidarsson, a real-life demigod and my own personal source of infinite irritation, was looking at me like I was the only girl in the world. The tenderness in Tore’s eyes sent my heart galloping nearly out of my chest. While I struggled to breathe, he just stared at me with an all-consuming look that pushed everyone else from my consciousness. The world shrank to our single, shared connection. He might not have been able to let his wall down enough to show me his energy, but in that moment, I knew exactly what I meant to Tore.
Holy mother of pearl. I was Tore’s everything.
And I knew, without a doubt, that he was my everything, too.
* * * *
Our little group wasted no time embarking on our mountain trek. Between the murderous night elves and the flying dragon, time was literally of the essence in tracking down the next piece of Gud Morder. Since none of us had eaten in the past four hours, Mack dug into his pack and passed around little pouches of dried fruits and nuts. We scarfed the calories and chased them down with what was left of our water to stay hydrated. Night elves and dragons would be the least of our worries if we died of starvation scaling the mountain.
Our dwarf guide, whose name turned out to be Milkir, was quite helpful. He and Mack led us in two lines up the narrow path, all the while comparing notes on the recent political upheaval in Nidavellir. Johann and Bodie took the middle, while Tore and I followed a little way behind the group. There was something I wanted to talk to Tore about, and I needed privacy to do it.
Tore raised one blond eyebrow as I laced my fingers through his and tugged him backward. “What’s up?”
“How did the dwarf know who I was? Who you were?” I whispered.
Tore scowled at Milkir’s back. “Dwarves have their own powers. You know they forge weapons for the gods, right?”
Nope. I definitely did not know that.
“They created Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, and his belt, Megingjörd. They even crafted Odin’s golden ring, Draupnir. It self-replicates, creates eight new rings every ninth night. Mortals have waged wars trying to retrieve it,” Tore continued.
I did not know that either.
“But they’re also a very intuitive species. They can sense which realm a foreigner comes from, and they’re able to determine what gifts an individual possesses just by looking at them. That’s why Milkir took Bodie’s vision at face value—he understood it wasn’t a ruse after all, but simply Bodie’s gift.” Tore used the hand not wrapped in mine to rub the back of his neck.
“Wow,” I murmured.
“Milkir may have suspected you were a healer, but he wouldn’t have known you had the Liv if you hadn’t shown him. So far as the realms understand, the Liv is trapped in the Night Sleep with your mother. Nobody knew it could transfer so long as its host was still alive. You shocked the Hel out of us with that one.” Tore shot me a wink. “But when you used it on him, he knew exactly what it was. All species do. It’s legendary.”
“No pressure, huh?” I let out a nervous chuckle. “But how did he know who you are? He mentioned your father. What was up with that?”
Tore’s eyes darkened to a smoky blue. “Once upon a time, the God of Revenge brought a needless war to Nidavellir. Many dwarves were massacred. Things like that aren’t easily forgotten.”
“Oh, Tore.” I squeezed his hand lightly. No wonder he didn’t want
anything to do with Revenge. My heart tugged as I imagined the pain his father’s legacy continued to cause him. But there was something else I needed to ask, and while I knew it was hard to talk about, I also knew I might never get a better opening. My voice was barely audible as I looked up at Tore and asked, “What happened between you and your dad?”
Tore’s boots skidded on the rocks as he came to an abrupt stop. He slowly pivoted to face me with eyes cloudy from barely-contained emotion. A thick blanket of closeted pain broke through Tore’s protections to descend on me. Crap. Was he mad that I’d asked? Had I pushed him too far? God, had I just reopened a wound he’d spent who knows how long trying to close? My heart thundered against my ribcage for a half minute, slowing only when Tore brought his hands up to cup my face. He held my cheeks tenderly before tangling his fingers in my hair.
“All you need to know is that my father took away the one bright light I had in my life. He snuffed it out, and I was left in darkness for years.” Tore leaned forward and brushed a light kiss on my lips. “Until now.”
The heavy blanket lifted, my anxiety giving way to a soft glow. My heart warmed with a joyful energy that grew until sparkly luminescence shot through my bubble. “Tore,” I whispered.
“You’re my light now,” he murmured. He laced one hand through mine and moved forward again, leaving me to catch my breath as I stumbled after him. Sure, technically he’d avoided the question—he hadn’t actually told me what happened with him and his dad. But he had opened up. He’d called me his light. That was pretty freaking awesome.
By the time we caught up to the rest of our party, they’d nearly reached the summit. The guys were crouched behind an outcropping of boulders, their attention focused on something behind the rocks. Bodie held one finger to his lips, and I picked up the gravelly tones of a heated argument, along with the heavy energy that seeped from only the darkest of souls.