Goddess of Fate

by Alexandra Sokoloff

  But she was terrified. She wanted to reach for Luke’s hand, but thought that might make things worse. His face was set; he seemed calm but she had no idea what he was thinking.

  The soldiers marched them through the immense doors of the assembly hall. At the front of the long and opulent hall, on an ornate dais, were three golden thrones. Three huge, imposing figures seated upon them. They went by the names of High, Just-As-High and Third, but they were all Odin. The god liked to appear as the triple god to amuse himself, or perhaps it became exhausting for a god so powerful to confine himself to just one body. The order of the three thrones had always seemed to Aurora to demonstrate Odin’s sense of the surreal: High was seated upon the lowest, Just-As-High on the midhighest and Third on the highest of the thrones.

  Remember, he’s not just the god of war, she told herself. There’s more to him than that. He’s the god of wisdom and magic, too.

  Still, it was disconcerting to have to face three Odins at once, to look up at the three giant figures now glowering down on them.

  She looked around the crowd for a friendly face, and was daunted to see avid anticipation in the eyes of the assembled masses. Everyone in the Wyrd loved a good scandal.

  Val and the soldiers marched Aurora and Luke up to the front of the hall and stopped before the dais, beneath the enormous thrones.

  Val stepped forward, and tossed her dark hair, so lovely and determined that a hush fell over the crowd.

  “Great Odin, Allfather, I bring before you my sister, a Norn who does not know her place, who has left her post in Midgard to sneak into your own palace and attempt to steal one of your warriors.”

  Exclamations of shock raced through the crowd.

  “Steal one of the Einherjar?”

  “It can’t be!”

  “Scandalous!”

  The three gods raised their six eyebrows simultaneously. “Surely we are not expected to discipline Destiny?” Third said to Just-As-High.

  Just-As-High looked Aurora over and said, sotto voce, though the voice was so huge it could likely be heard down in Midgard, “Not Destiny herself, but a handmaiden, methinks.”

  “A pretty one, too, I says.” Third winked at Aurora.

  Despite the oddness, Aurora felt a flutter of hope. That’s what they needed now, a god with a sense of humor.

  “What’s this about stealing our warrior?” High cut through the voices of the other two. He did not sound angry exactly, but no one would have said he sounded pleased, either. Aurora’s brief optimism evaporated.

  Beside her, Luke spoke. “She was not stealing me, my lords. I am with her of my own free will.”

  Aurora saw Val stiffen. “He speaks of freedom, my lords,” she said heatedly. “But he has been chosen for your special use. He is an Einherjar, bound to your service. The Norn was given her chance by the Eternals, a day to persuade him and win him. And she lost.”

  Aurora’s heart sank as she listened to her sister’s words. It’s true, I had a day to win him and I failed.

  “What can I say, my lords? I am slow,” Luke said. There was a ripple of laughter around them in the assembly, and Aurora thought she saw High suppress a smile. “It has nothing to do with the rightness of my lady’s cause.”

  “And what would that cause be?” High asked.

  “He is needed by humanity, my lord,” Aurora said, surprising herself with her boldness. “He is a fine warrior, the best. While he spends his days here in sport, he could be making the Middle World a better place, fighting a real fight against real enemies.”

  A murmur started through the spectators.

  High, Just-As-High and Third frowned down at her, their expressions fierce. “Our warriors train for Ragnarok. Are you calling this time wasted?”

  Aurora took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice steady. “I am saying that perhaps the war has already begun. Perhaps the first skirmishes will happen in the world of men. Is it not wise to have good warriors there, working now against the forces of darkness?”

  The three gods muttered among themselves, and then Third looked toward Aurora.

  “She is not a Valkyrie,” Third said.

  “You are not a Valkyrie,” High repeated.

  Aurora dropped her eyes. “No, my lords.”

  “And she thinks to advise us on war.” Just-As-High sniffed.

  The inhabitants of the hall made indignant noises.

  “You are aware we are the god of war?” High demanded.

  Aurora blushed to the soles of her feet. “Yes, my lords.”

  “Yet your thoughts on war are...interesting,” High commented. Aurora looked up, again sensing a glimmer of possibility.

  But before the god could continue, there was a great thundering outside—a thundering that was all too familiar now. Valkyries.

  Everyone in the hall turned to look as the huge doors in the back opened wide and a dozen horses rode in with their fierce female riders astride.

  Aurora’s heart twisted as she was reminded of how Luke was taken.

  At the front of the pack the bold and beautiful leader rode with a man who looked strangely familiar. White-blond hair, ice-blue eyes...

  Luke tensed up beside Aurora and stared toward the new arrival in anger and disbelief. “Tomasson,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “There must have been another battle,” Aurora whispered. “Very soon after yours.”

  “The police raided the place? Reinforcements finally showed up,” Luke calculated. Aurora was thrilled that he was thinking in earth terms again; the veil between the worlds had lifted and he seemed to remember everything.

  The Valkyrie who bore Tomasson cantered her steed up the aisle and halted the horse before the triple throne. She called out in a strong, clear voice. “My lords Odin Allfather, I bring you another warrior for your glorious army.”

  Tomasson dismounted from the horse, tall, blond, arrogant. He was already clothed as the other Einherjar, in tunic and leathers, and was armed with a short sword, but he looked around him with some wariness, a look Luke understood, as he now remembered it had been no time at all since he had been presented to Odin in just such a manner. Tomasson was quickly adjusting to his environment, taking on the swagger of the other warriors as he approached the dais.

  Luke stepped forward. “My lords Odin Allfather, I object to this man being inducted into the army.”

  A collective gasp went up from the assembled warriors and Valkyries. Tomasson turned on Luke with a snarl, and Luke put his hand on his short sword.

  Third turned to Just-As-High incredulously. “He objects?”

  Just-As-High confirmed, “He objects!”

  High looked down on Luke and frowned. “What is this objection?”

  Luke looked up to the triple god. “I knew him in Midgard. He is a thief and a killer. His presence would defile your army.”

  The murmurs and exclamations raced through the crowd.

  “Defile?” Just-As-High repeated.

  “Defile is a serious charge.” Third glowered.

  The Valkyrie who brought Tomasson spoke up stridently. “He is a superior warrior. I took him in the midst of a battle in which he killed six men before he was even wounded himself. He will be a great asset to your glorious army.”

  The crowd around them buzzed with approving noises.

  “What men were these he killed?” Luke called out. He stared at Tomasson. “They were police, weren’t they? There was a raid on your little death warehouse and you fired on cops, you scum.”

  Tomasson snarled and reached for his own short sword.

  Aurora and the lead Valkyrie leaped forward to hold the men back. “Luke, no,” Aurora whispered.

  Out of the blue a voice called, “Let them fight!”

  Aurora twisted around in dismay, just in time to see Loki smiling in anticipation as he faded back into the crowd. She would have to kill him.

  The crowd picked up on the idea instantly. “Yes, fight! Let them fight!”

 
Tomasson snarled toward Luke, salivating for the chance.

  Odin’s voice thundered in triplicate, “Silence.”

  The hall instantly quieted, holding very still.

  The three gods held their chins in their hands, stroking their beards, gazing down at the two strapping young men. Then the three looked at one another and nodded.

  High spoke. “We would like to see this fight. It might resolve all issues before us.”

  Aurora was dismayed. Why did it always have to be a battle?

  The triple god looked sharply at Luke in unison. “Will you abide by the outcome?”

  Luke stepped forward confidently. “I will.”

  “So be it,” the triple god rumbled.

  The Valkyries jumped to arm and armor Tomasson, and Luke was just as instantly surrounded by Einherjar, bringing him his armor and broadsword. Aurora had to fight her way through them to get to Luke.

  “Luke, no, please don’t...” Aurora pleaded.

  “Don’t you see, this is the way out,” Luke reassured her, speaking low as he fastened the straps of his armor. “I’ll win, and then I can ask to be released from service. We can go back to earth.”

  He was so confident that he would win, but Aurora sensed a trap. Nothing that Loki initiated could be good.

  “Please...” she started, but he kissed her, silencing her.

  “It will be fine,” Luke said, and took up his shield.

  He turned to face Tomasson, and the two men drew their swords. They circled, shields on their arms, and Luke had a wave of déjà vu.

  How many times have we done this? he thought, and for a moment, he realized that Aurora might be right.

  But there was no time to think further on it, because Tomasson raised his sword and attacked—a savage, no-holds-barred thrust. Luke easily avoided him, and the two advanced on each other like ancient warriors, the heavy iron blades hefted in their hands.

  They both swung and there was the sickening ring of metal on metal, the bulging of muscles flexing and straining as blade crashed against blade. And Luke felt a rush of adrenaline and exhilaration as he threw himself into the battle.

  They were well-matched; what Luke had in skill Tomas made up for in fury. As they fought, Luke saw again the red hate in his old enemy’s eyes. He could hear the cheers and sympathetic grunts from the warriors in the hall, feel the excitement and bloodlust of the Valkyries, and the energy from the hall drove Luke on as he thrust and blocked and struck and the weapons shone in the air. He could feel himself enveloped by the cheering and anticipation...

  And then he caught a glimpse of Val in the crowd, with her eyes shining in excitement...and Aurora standing beside her looking as stricken as if her heart were breaking.

  And in that moment Luke knew, for all time, what he wanted.

  He heaved his sword up and slammed the blade with full force into Tomasson’s shield and knocked him sideways onto the floor of the hall.

  As Tomasson panted, dazed, Luke stepped one foot square in the center of the armor of his breastplate and touched the point of his sword against Tomasson’s neck.

  Tomasson glared up at him, a deadly stare, but there was nothing to be said.

  “We’re done here,” Luke said softly.

  The hall erupted in cheers and applause and foot-stamping and calling of Luke’s name.

  “Well-played, well-played!” Third enthused.

  Luke straightened, stepped off Tomasson and sheathed his sword. Then he turned and stepped forward, toward the thrones, the adrenaline of triumph buzzing in his head.

  “I claim my victory, my lord,” he called out. “I wish to return to Midgard.”

  The hall quieted in amazement, everyone staring toward Luke.

  The three gods looked down on Luke thoughtfully.

  “But that we cannot allow, warrior,” High said.

  Behind Luke, Aurora gasped. But she’d known it. Known it.

  Luke’s face burned with disbelief and barely controlled anger. “I said I would abide by the consequences.”

  “And you have shown us that you are far too good a warrior for us to lose,” Just-As-High explained. “Ragnarok is approaching. We would have you here.”

  “Keep him!” someone called out from the crowd. Loki again, Aurora knew. The crowd took up the call. “Keep him! Keep him!” they chanted, while Luke stared around him angrily.

  “Your skills are wasted on the earth-plane,” High said soothingly. “Think what glory you will experience here.”

  “My lords, my lady is right,” Luke called out. “There is more than one way to battle.” The gods looked down on him, waiting expectantly.

  “The Jotunn, the evil ones, work through men. Men like the one I have just defeated.” Luke turned and indicated Tomasson. “Through men like this they inflict pain and misery on the world of men, on individual men and women. I can keep and hone my battle skills on earth. But perhaps the final war can be prevented, rather than fought.”

  “Diplomacy,” High said thoughtfully.

  “Modern.” Third sniffed.

  But they were listening. Luke pressed on. “We know Ragnarok doesn’t end well. The final destiny of the gods has been prophesied.” Luke reached back into his memory for Nona’s stories. “Thor will die from a fatal wound by the serpent Jörmungandr. Odin himself is fated to be swallowed whole and alive by the wolf Fenrir.”

  The triple gods drew back, muttering to themselves.

  Aurora stepped to Luke’s side. “The gods Tyr, Freyr, Heimdallr and Loki will be killed. The earth will be destroyed by violent disasters, the entire world submerged in water.”

  Suddenly Lena stepped out of the crowd and joined Aurora to add her voice. “Brothers will fight and kill one another. Sisters’ children will defile kinship.”

  “Black become the sun’s beams, and weathers all treacherous,” Aurora said. “Red become the powers’ homes, red with crimson gore.”

  A hush had fallen over the hall as the Einherjar and Valkyries recognized the words of the ancient prophecy.

  Aurora spoke softly into the silence. “Can we not try a different way?”

  Luke reached out and took her hand, but looked up at the triple god. “My lords, we would build your army in Midgard. An army to combat evil, not by doing violence, but by quelling violence. I beg you, my lords. Give us leave to try.”

  High stroked his beard thoughtfully and looked down at Luke and Aurora. “A Norn and a mortal working together to create a different fate. There is wisdom in that.”

  “It can’t hurt,” Third admitted.

  The three great gods looked around at one another, and nodded as one.

  “We grant you leave,” Just-As-High said.

  Aurora felt her heart swelling with lightness and joy until she thought she would burst. Luke turned to her and took her in his arms, and she felt immortal, like a goddess, and—most wonderful of all—very, very, human.

  As he kissed her.

  Epilogue

  Luke Mars woke slowly...to find himself in his own bed, on a bright, clear San Francisco morning.

  He had been having a dream. Three women around his bed, looking down on him, gorgeous, heartbreaking: one blond as the sun, one with hair blazing golden red as fire and one whose hair and eyes were dark as night. They had been arguing over him, and there had been something about fate, and destiny, and the End of Days. Strange scenes flashed through his mind: a moon path on the sea, and a golden palace...and beautiful female warriors on horseback...

  It was all fading fast, but he did remember the one with red-gold hair had leaned down to whisper to him, “I’ll take care of you.”

  He felt an unexpected shiver of longing.

  Now what was that all about?

  But he had work to do, bad guys to catch, promotions to win. He was in the middle of a big case and he had a feeling it was about to break wide open.

  * * *

  Dressed and showered, he half ran down the stairs of his Victorian and hit the sidew
alk, striding into the narrow strip of path that led toward the garage that housed his car.

  And then he saw her walking toward him on the lawn, a goddess with creamy skin and dreamy eyes, and red-gold hair pouring down her back like molten flame.

  He stopped...and then walked past his garage, right up to her. She stopped on her path and stood very still, as if she was waiting for him. And they looked at each other, and he had the strongest, strangest feeling that he knew her, that he had always known her.

  “Excuse me.” He laughed slightly. “I know you don’t know me from Adam. But do you have time for coffee?”

  She looked at him with those sky-blue eyes. “All the time in the world.”

  * * * * *

  Read on for an extract from POSSESSED BY THE FALLEN by Sharon Ashwood.

  Alone we can do so little.

  Together we can do so much.

  —Helen Keller

  Prologue

  Fairy tales often begin with humans making foolish choices, and this is no exception.

  Long ago, three princes lived in a kingdom on the north shore of the Mediterranean Sea: Vidon, Marcari and their youngest brother, known as Silverhand. The best of the three, Silverhand became a knight and went to the Holy Land during the first war of the Crusades.

  In time, he returned with a fortune in gems, planning to share it with his brothers. Unexpectedly—or perhaps not—Silverhand was murdered as he slept and the treasure was stolen. Vidon and Marcari quickly accused one another of the crime and so began a war between brothers that split the country in two.

  It was not just a war of humans—the brothers dragged the Night World into their affairs. The Dark Fey fought for Vidon, the Light Fey for Marcari. Vampires and werewolves also did battle for one side or the other, and the slaughter was epic.

  Vidon blamed the carnage on the supernatural creatures, even though he had himself enlisted their aid. He demanded his knights swear vengeance upon them, and so Vidon’s realm became a nation of slayers.