Perfekt Balance (The Ære Saga Book 3)

by S. T. Bende

  I threw my arms up and gripped Runa’s hands. While I pulled, I wrenched from side to side in a futile effort to relieve the pressure. The room grew hazy as my blood took a one-way trip south. I pulled harder, fighting the grip that robbed my lungs of air. A searing pain filled my chest as my body burned through the last of its oxygen, and despite my pathetic struggle, it was clear I was outmaneuvered. I let my torso go limp, dropping my hands and using the last of my strength to push loving energy at Runa. If I could disarm her, even for just a minute, it could give me another chance to run.

  Or at least to breathe.

  When the warm bubble of energy filled my heart, I pushed it forward. Runa must have been too focused on hurting me to maintain her defenses—the second my bubble hit her, she released her grip and stumbled backward. Bullseye.

  I dropped to the ground, my chest heaving as I sucked in air. When the burning began to ebb from my lungs, I pushed myself up to run. The calculating gleam in Runa’s eyes stopped me cold.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a cold smile. “Use that little talent of yours to find the dog. Now.”

  Regroup, Elsa. Use her. My intuition sparked, and I rubbed lightly at my neck as I worked through my next steps. My first escape attempt had failed—her new power meant I couldn’t outrun her.

  But there was a chance my power could outmaneuver her.

  I took a step closer to Runa. “Fine. We’ll do this your way. But remember, what I can do is based on energy and feelings—it’s science, not magic. If whoever’s holding Fenrir doesn’t want me to find him, I’m not going to be able to do it.”

  “Stop right there.” Runa held up her hand as I approached. “After that stunt, I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

  I shrugged. “Suit yourself. But this probably isn’t going to work if you don’t let me tap into your energy. I need to use it as a cloak to block mine, so Fenrir’s guards won’t think to keep me out. But if finding him isn’t that important to you…”

  Runa narrowed her eyes. “I’m not welcome in Asgard. If they don’t want you finding him, they’re not about to let me do it.”

  “Who said they’re keeping him in Asgard? He could be anywhere,” I pointed out.

  Runa exhaled forcibly. “Okay. But if this is a trick, so help me, I’ll end you right here.”

  I pushed down my fear and forced an easy smile. “If you end me, you’ve got no chance of finding him.”

  Runa stepped closer, and I braced myself for the strike. But she didn’t hit me. Instead, she just growled. “Hurry up.”

  I closed my eyes, relief coursing through me. It worked. “Give me a minute,” I said. As I pictured the thick trunk of one of the redwoods behind our Midgard house wrapping around me and rooting itself to the earth, the unease I felt at Runa’s nearness ebbed. She wasn’t attacking me in this moment, and by forcing myself into the present, I released my fear at what she might do next.

  Besides, it was what I was going to do next that scared me most.

  “First, I’m going to push my energy into yours so I can hide myself. Then, we’ll start our search. Is that all right with you?” It was a lie. There was no way I was tricking Fenrir’s guard for Runa’s benefit.

  “Whatever,” Runa grunted. But the tension coming off her body was palpable. She needed this to work. Retrieving Fenrir caused her a lot of anxiety.

  “Okay.”

  I set heavier protections than normal around myself. Mingling my energy with that of another being carried a risk of a merge—an irreversible entanglement of forces. And the last thing I wanted was to have any part of my energy trapped inside Runa’s body. Or worse, to get her energy trapped inside of mine. Ick. I doubled down on my protections, then added an additional layer, just because. It was better to be safe than infiltrated by a dark soul.

  Secure in the knowledge I’d made my aura impenetrable, I retreated to the quietest spot in my mind and pushed out my energy. I knew the minute I made contact with Runa’s aura—the outer edge of my bubble recoiled, its distaste practically visceral. My fingertips tingled as I brushed against the blackness of Runa’s personal space. It stung. Runa’s inner pain manifested in a series of needle-like pricks along her energy bubble. I tried to get closer, but my outer layer of protection refused. Even the secondary layer protested, morphing from a shimmering gold screen to a black Kevlar wall. Fabulous. How was I going to reach Runa if my own aura wouldn’t let me through?

  With a sigh I withdrew, pulling my energy back so it no longer touched Runa’s. I’d have to use an external scan. And I’d have to be quick; I could sense Runa’s unease as she waited. She expected me to produce Fenrir’s location, and if the tapping of her foot was any indication, she expected it fast.

  “Just a few more minutes,” I lied.

  “Hurry,” Runa barked.

  Knowing my time was limited, I pushed my energy as close to Runa’s as my aura would allow. It wasn’t happy, but it let me get near enough to do a scan. Good enough. I focused on Runa’s first energy center—the space at the base of her spine. There was something off there I couldn’t quite put my finger on—a greyish blur, hidden behind a bright white light. I frowned. Of course Runa would be buzzing with an unusually high physical prowess. It probably had something to do with the crystal she’d swallowed. Odin only knew the extent of the powers it gave her.

  I moved up to the second energy center, the spot behind Runa’s belly button that controlled her emotions. It revealed a duality—darkness smothering light. Interesting. Although I generally believed in the innate goodness of most spirits, I’d taken Runa for one of the rare black souls. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

  Runa’s third energy center reflected low self-esteem, not surprising, given her proclivity to destroy. Her heart center showed a nearly total void where her capacity for compassion should have sat. But more importantly, it absolutely seethed of self-hatred. Where did that root? I moved up, quickly scanning Runa’s fifth through seventh centers, but found nothing of significance. Then I worked my way back down, following the black thread of energy wrapped around Runa’s heart. It laced through her third and second centers, ending in the grey blur at the base of Runa’s spine. Of course! The family of origin center. Babies were born innately good—even jotun, troll, and dark elf babies. But their early experiences with the world could tarnish them beyond repair. And the individuals responsible for forming those early experiences in Runa had been…

  Hold on. Who were Runa’s parents? She’d come to Asgard in the middle of one school year, and lived with a “family friend” we never actually saw. When she’d started dating Forse, she’d told us her parents were dead. Beyond that, she never talked about her family. Or Vanaheim, where she’d allegedly come from. Or anything, really. She’d dominated combat club, thanks to her gargantuan height, and the seemingly impenetrable chip on her shoulder, but none of us knew much else about her.

  Could this be why she was so cold? The blackness in her heart rooted from a bad experience with her family of origin. Runa must have felt adrift at sea, growing up without her parents.

  Poor thing. My heart tugged, the wave of sympathy overwhelming me. I couldn’t undo Runa’s past, but if I could untie that black knot in her first center, maybe I could change the way she looked at the world going forward. And maybe I could divert her from this dark course she was so determined to hurtle down. A surge of light pulsed in my head. That’s it! If I could untie that knot, I’d unblock Runa’s first center, erasing the black cord choking her heart, and leaving her free to choose a more positive path.

  A dim light flickered from Runa, something deep within her acknowledging the truth of my assessment.

  What is that?

  I scanned my captor from head to toe, but the light was gone. Did I imagine it? No matter—my intuition told me I was on the right track. Ignoring my aura’s protests, I pushed into Runa’s energy, directing a thick beam of white light at the knot. The light struck t
he darkness, filling the dense matter with the love and hope my parents had instilled in me. But instead of unraveling, the knot clenched tighter, closing in on itself and sending an angry blast at my light. I pushed harder, trying to drive a stake into what appeared to be the weakest part of the coil, but the bond wouldn’t budge. And as I sent one more surge of love at the knot, my body was racked with an insurmountable pain that tore through me from head to toe. I screamed out loud as an unbearable weight bore down on my chest, the blast from Runa’s knot ejecting me from her space and knocking me back.

  “What the Hel was that?” Runa snarled. Cold hands gripped my shoulders as my captor leapt on top of me. The back of my head connected with the stone, and I heard the crack at the same as time I registered the pain. Blood rushed to the wound as the thick pounding built to an unbearable pressure. I knew that pain. I’d felt it once before…right before Fenrir sent me into the coma.

  Just don’t black out and you’ll get through this.

  “You little liar. Were you even looking for Fenrir?” Runa shrieked.

  “I was trying to help you,” I mumbled. What was wrong with me? First I couldn’t get past the wall around Forse’s heart, and now I couldn’t unravel Runa’s knot. My realm was depending on me to be their interim Unifier, and I was a total failure. I’m sorry, Mom.

  Runa put a prompt end to my pity party.

  “I need that dog.” She slapped my face. The sting of her palm was a tickle compared to the raw agony pulsing in my head. “Stay the Hel out of my space or next time I send you back to your coma. You have twenty-four hours to get me Fenrir’s location or your people start dying.”

  Runa snapped her fingers, and I dragged one eyelid open just enough to see a hologram projected above her open palm. Fabulous. I added hologram making to the list of abilities Runa had acquired today.

  “Pay attention. You’ll want to see this.” Runa held her hand directly in front of my face, so there was no chance I’d miss her projection. In the image, Runa had me in a headlock while she fought both Brynn and Forse. She threw her arm out in front of her, and two beams of light shot from one palm. One wound itself around Brynn, the other Forse, circling them from torso to neck and constricting as they lifted, creating a magical execution device. My breath caught, and for the first time since my capture I couldn’t divert my fear. It churned in my gut and rose, gripping my heart in icy tentacles. It didn’t matter whether that hologram was a vision of the future or a trick to force my hand. The blackness inside Runa was so strong, I knew she wouldn’t think twice about killing anyone who kept her from what she wanted. That vision was a nightmare.

  But it would never come true.

  I rolled to my side, placed my palms on the ground, and pushed myself up, ignoring the pool of blood. The room spun violently as I stood on one foot, then the other, scrambling for a plan. Hurting Runa was out of the question; she was just too strong. But maybe if I got close enough, I could eject some of her dark energy—enough to make her see the value in Asgardian life. Or even just enough to distract her so I could run.

  Runa lowered her hand, and the hologram disappeared. I bent my knees and prepared to move. Before my feet could leave the ground, she turned on one heel and wrenched the door open, then quickly slammed it shut behind her.

  I’d missed my chance.

  “Twenty-four hours,” Runa called through the wood. “Then Asgard loses one god a day until I get that dog. And just in case you dream up another of your little escape plans…” A light flashed outside the door. “Don’t. You’re sealed in tight.”

  Runa’s boots clicked on the stones as she stormed down the hallway. I sank to the floor and pressed my hand to my head. The blood came slower now, though the pounding hadn’t eased at all. As I took a deep breath and willed my body to heal, I tried to ignore the panic that danced heavily along my spine. I’d failed to physically overpower her, and I’d failed to energetically outmaneuver her.

  What was I going to do now?

  * * * *

  “Elsa, thank gods. Where are you?” Relief coursed through me as Forse’s face filled the surface of my arm. The familiar sweep of his golden highlights; the intensity radiating from grass green eyes; even the ever-deepening V between his eyebrows filled my soul with a much-needed surge of calm. Forse Styrke was a god-sized dose of comfort food on a hugely stressful day. Every last inch of me relaxed at the mere sight of his face.

  “You’re bleeding! Where are you?” Forse repeated. The urgency in his voice jarred me from my calm, and as I cradled the screen atop my forearm, I realized the justice god didn’t exactly share my inner peace. The V atop the bridge of his nose wasn’t the only sign of the toll this day was taking on him. His forehead was lined with the wrinkles of a god twice his age, and his lips were pale and cracked.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him softly.

  “Are you okay?” he countered. “Gods, hjärtat, there’s blood caked to the side of your head. Is Runa’s cloak on your tower inhibiting your healing abilities too?”

  “No, this injury’s just a deeper injury than the ones I’ve been repairing lately, so it’s going to take a while to fix itself.”

  “Can you perform a healing or does the dark magic in the structure block that gift?” Forse asked.

  Good question. I brought my hands together and channeled restorative energy. A moment later I felt the small surge of power between my hands. It wasn’t as strong as I was used to; my energy had been severely depleted by Runa’s attack, and that would have a corresponding effect on my strength as High Healer. Even so, the tiny ball was better than nothing. I placed my hands on the side of my head, and sent the energy into my skull. The pounding decreased by half and my scalp tightened as my skin slowly resumed knitting itself back together.

  “The tower still hasn’t affected my energetic abilities, just my magical ones,” I reassured Forse. “I’ll be fine, Forse. I swear.”

  “Elsa, are you…you’re curled up in a ball, aren’t you? I’m going to kill Tyr for bringing you here. War!” Forse bellowed. “Get the Hel over here and see what you’ve done!”

  “Shh,” I urged. “There’s not exactly a volume control on this com, and you’re shouting through this end, too. She confiscated my phone and my dagger; I don’t want Runa to figure out I can still communicate with you.”

  “Is she nearby? Let me talk to her. I’ll make her—”

  “What? You’ll make her what? She’s not exactly open to persuasion. Trust me, I’m trying to get out of here. It’s just not that easy, so until I find a way to break myself out of this tower without getting any of us hurt, I’ll do my duty to Asgard and try to figure out why Runa’s doing all of this. She’s on a warpath, and so long as I’m stuck here with her, I’ll keep trying to tap her energy to find out who she’s working with and why. It’s not ideal, but it’s not without its benefits. Once I leave, I’ll lose access to her, and we’ll lose our upper hand, so I’m taking advantage of the—hopefully limited—time I’ve got with her.”

  “You think having you locked up is the upper hand?” The vein popped across Forse’s forehead, but at least he kept his voice down.

  “Kind of. The last time she went nuts, we didn’t see it coming and something really awful happened.”

  “Elsa…” Forse’s red-rimmed eyes turned positively crimson.

  “This time,” I pressed on, “we have the chance to get inside her head and see what she’s planning. So we can stop it before it happens.”

  “I thought Tyr was the only Fredriksen who could read minds.”

  “He is. But I can access her energy, which allows me to see what her motivation is for whatever heinous crime she’s planning this time. And if I can isolate her motivation, maybe I can get her to talk to me.”

  “You think if you call her out on the root of her issues, she’ll get all meadow-elfy with you and share her feelings, along with her diabolical plan?” Forse sounded doubtful. “I hate to break it to you, but she didn’t get to wh
ere she is by being touchy-feely with anyone—even the High Healer.”

  “Maybe not.” I closed my eyes. It was a good idea in theory, but Runa was a master of deceit. I doubted even her own spirit could see through her darkness. Hold on…The thought triggered something. “Forse, remember a few weeks ago when we were going through the boxes of my parents’ things, and we found Mom’s old journals?”

  “You asked me to hold on to them until you were ready to take them. You said it hurt too much to see her handwriting and know she was never coming back.” Forse’s voice cracked. “My mom’s still got them in our library. Why?”’

  “Can you get a message to Freya? Have her scan the journals and e-mail them to you, and then forward the scanned pages to my com. When we found them, I just assumed they were personal—that she’d filled pages about her epic romance with my father, and that it wasn’t my place to look at them.” My own journal was peppered with sentimental nuggets—Elsa hearts Forse 4-ever. XOXO. I’d die if anyone ever read it, and figured I’d owed my mother her privacy. “But what if Mom wrote about her work life too? About being the Unifier? What if the answers we’ve been looking for have been right in front of us this whole time?”

  Forse’s eyes widened. “If that’s true, then we’re the thickest gods in Asgard. If the key to unifying is sitting in my parents’ library, I’m going to be beyond mad at myself.”

  I nodded. “Me too. Forse, what if there’s something in there that can help me figure out how to get through to Runa? I saw a flicker of light when I was evaluating her energy…it made me think there’s still goodness in her. If I can figure out how to multiply it, maybe I can make all of this better.”

  “You think there’s goodness in everyone.” Forse shook his head.

  “Because there is. Sometimes a soul gets confused, but most are inherently kind. Even if that kindness is really buried.” The blood on my cheeks cracked as I smiled at Forse. That was a good sign—drying blood meant my wound was finally healing.