Sword of Light

by S. M. Schmitz

  Yngvarr groaned as Joachim lifted him, and I grabbed his other arm. “We have to get him to a hospital,” I said. I wondered if gods’ bodies worked the same way as humans’ and if one of our hospitals would even be able to help him, but I couldn’t lose him. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt that I owed it to Havard to keep his brother alive.

  Keira wanted to run ahead of us to get the car, but I wouldn’t let her go alone in case the Egyptians were just hiding, waiting for the chance to separate us or catch us with our guard down. That’s what I would have done, and I was basically an infant when it came to this fighting stuff. So we trudged carefully back to the tennis court where we’d left our car, and just as carefully laid Yngvarr on the backseat. Joachim and I exchanged a quick glance as we both realized seating was now at a premium, and I grinned mischievously at him and asked, “How much do you charge for a lap dance?”

  “No offense, but you’re not really my type,” he said. “But if you were, fifty bucks.”

  “Damn,” I pretended to argue. “You’re expensive.”

  “Hey, you get what you pay for.”

  “Oh, my God,” Keira muttered. She tossed Joachim the keys and pushed me toward the other side of the car. “Get in and don’t get any ideas.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I retorted. “The most beautiful woman that’s ever lived is going to sit on my lap, and I’m not supposed to get any ideas? I already have about three hundred and we’re not even in the car yet.”

  “Gavyn,” Yngvarr begged, “would you shut up and get in the car before I bleed to death?”

  And because I actually was worried he’d bleed to death, I shut up and climbed in the car, but as soon as Joachim pulled onto the street, I smiled at Keira and said, “I just got about nine thousand new ideas.”

  Keira glanced at Joachim and asked, “Can’t you drive any faster?”

  I gave him directions to the nearest hospital, and as soon as we pulled up to the ER, Keira jumped out and hurried inside to get help for Yngvarr. I twisted in my seat to check on him and reminded him, once again, “You’re not allowed to die on me, or I’ll send Agnes after you in whatever afterlife you gods have.”

  Yngvarr, who’d paled considerably since we left the Garden District, offered me a faint smile. “As long as she’s the young, hot Agnes, I’m totally fine with that.”

  So I shook my head and insisted, “Only the old witchy one who probably gave birth to the Grim Reaper.”

  The doors opened and a few employees pushing a gurney emerged. Joachim and I waited silently as they ensured he was stable enough to move then lifted him from the backseat. Part of me screamed to get out of the car and follow them inside, but I couldn’t move. The pain in my chest had returned, but I doubted it was any more real than the original wound that lion had inflicted. I touched my chest anyway, just to see if I’d suddenly begun bleeding and if I’d be following Yngvarr inside as a patient dangerously close to death.

  As Yngvarr disappeared inside the hospital, Joachim took a deep breath and said, “How the hell are you okay?”

  Was I supposed to know the answer, or was that just one of those rhetorical questions, something that likely bothered my friends as much as it did me? Because I shouldn’t be okay. Maybe I shouldn’t have even survived. And no one, not even Odin himself, could cast a spell to protect someone from death. Wasn’t that the whole point of their Ragnarok stories, that even gods couldn’t escape their fates?

  And that’s when it hit me. I knew exactly why I was still alive.

  “It wasn’t my time,” I said, but I was numb and really wanted to go home and forget this day and everything in it. “My death has already been fated, and it just wasn’t my time.”

  We talked in hushed whispers as Yngvarr slept in a hospital bed, recuperating from his injuries. I’d learned that gods were apparently not so different than mortals, and even our blood types were shared. Keira had pointed out that we had to be similar in order to have children together, but I’d never really thought about it. All I knew was that my dead godly ancestor had such powerful DNA that he passed his memories and emotions on to me, and I wasn’t even a first-generation descendant.

  “The others have arrived in Chicago,” Keira whispered. “I think you should join them.”

  “No way,” I insisted. “I’m not leaving you and Yngvarr here alone.”

  Keira shot me a sly smile and asked, “You think I can’t handle the Egyptians if they show up?”

  That sounded like a trick question. My brain panicked but my mouth blurted out, “You’d be outnumbered and defending an invalid.” I heard what my traitorous mouth had said, so I quickly added, “But believe me: I know you’re a badass of epic proportions.”

  Keira’s smile turned genuine, and she gently touched my chest where I should have deep claw marks. “Don’t start thinking you’re invincible, Gavyn. There are forces far more powerful than the gods you know, and there’s a plan for you… but it doesn’t make you immortal.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” I assured her. “And you’re certain the seer didn’t tell you exactly how I was going to die?”

  Keira shook her head and pulled her hand away from me. It had been a completely innocent touch, nothing sexual at all about it, just the touch of a concerned friend, but when it came to her, I doubted anything would ever be completely innocent in my mind. I was sure now that I loved her, and I’d never been in love like this. I’d never loved a woman so much that I would’ve been content to just remain in her presence and be with her, even if that meant taking sex out of the equation. “Even if I knew,” she finally said, “I see now there’s nothing I could do to prevent it. The gods will march into Ragnarok knowing exactly what will kill them, and they’ll go anyway. Is that brave or stupid?”

  I snickered and shrugged. “You’re seriously asking me if something is stupid? I’m the king of stupid. Plus, all the stupid men of the world got together and elected me spokesman.”

  “You’re not stupid, Gavyn. And I’m serious. If you knew how you were going to die, would you still go? Would you still fight the god or hero that’s destined to kill you?”

  I didn’t need to think about it. Havard’s own prophecy was so similar to my fate, and like him, I’d discovered there were things in all the worlds worth dying for. “Yes,” I said. “If it meant defending those I love, I wouldn’t hesitate. I still don’t know who killed Havard, but I’m sure he died defending Arnbjorg and their children.”

  Keira lowered her eyes and stared at the back of her hands, which she’d folded in her lap. “And if the people you loved didn’t want you to die for them?”

  “I’d do it anyway. How could I live if I didn’t?”

  “Gavyn—” But Yngvarr stirred and interrupted her, so we both rushed to his side, eager to help him with whatever he needed. He opened his eyes and asked me, “You’re still here?”

  “Of course. Where else would I be?”

  “Chicago,” he said. “You have to help them find Frey.”

  “Yngvarr, I can’t leave all of you here.”

  “Yes,” he insisted, “you can and you will.”

  So I crossed my arms stubbornly to remind him he couldn’t possibly out-stubborn me. “And what are you going to do about it?” I grimaced before he could even answer me and cursed my traitorous mouth again. I knew exactly what he was going to threaten me with, and he didn’t disappoint.

  “Keira,” he said, “call Agnes. Tell her Gavyn is being a pain in the ass and needs an escort to Chicago.”

  “Don’t,” I immediately begged then squinted at Yngvarr and hissed, “I will kick your ass as soon as you can get out of that bed.”

  Yngvarr just smiled at me and repeated, “You’re going to Chicago.”

  And he was right: I was going to Chicago.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tyr looked entirely too happy to see me, which kinda freaked me out, so I scowled at him and warned, “Knock it off, you perv.”

  He laughed and
said, “Still not my type, Gavyn. Just relieved you’re still alive after the mauling.”

  My chest actually still felt bruised and sore, so I told him that and he just nodded as if none of my miraculous survival surprised him. “I suppose being attacked by a monstrously huge lion will do that.”

  “Can these Sumerian gods shapeshift? Because I’m really tired of fighting monstrously huge animals.”

  “Some can,” he told me. “Shapeshifting gods exist in every pantheon of the world.”

  I grunted as a way of expressing my intense displeasure that I’d likely find myself battling more vicious creatures that attempted to literally rip out my heart. Which was also not an acceptable way to die, and I thought Tyr should know that.

  “What is an acceptable way to die then?” he asked.

  I had a brief flash of a memory, a god kneeling before a faceless man who held a beautiful, powerful sword in his hands. And I knew I would meet the same fate, and somehow, I was all right with it. “By my sword,” I told him. “By the Sword of Light.”

  “I suppose we’ll have to find it then.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was just patronizing me, but it didn’t matter. I had every intention of finding Havard’s sword—my sword—even if I’d die by its blade. It was just in me, every cell of my body, every memory and thought and action. Whether it had always been there or had only recently surfaced no longer mattered. It was defining me now, and I would find the Sword of Light and defeat Ninurta with it. And in the end, it would lead me to Valhalla where I’d never give up hope that my Valkyrie would change her mind and allow herself to love me, too.

  But first, we had to find Frey.

  “Any leads on where we’re supposed to be looking?” I asked.

  John, the somewhat annoying CIA agent who didn’t seem to think I was any kind of hero, and honestly, I kinda agreed with him even though I’d killed a few asshole gods, handed me what appeared to be a map or blueprint. I wasn’t even sure. I flipped it over a few times, sniffed it—simply because I didn’t know what the hell else I was supposed to be doing—then handed it back while he stared at me like I really was too stupid to live, let alone save the world. When he didn’t reach for the piece of paper, I shook it a little, but the bastard just kept gawking at me.

  So I glanced at Tyr and said, “Okay, I give up. What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Um, Gavyn, it’s the blueprint for the hotel where they’re keeping Frey.”

  “I don’t read blueprint.”

  “You don’t…” He sighed and snatched the blueprint from my hand. “What exactly is so confusing here? John has even marked where the CIA thinks Frey is being held, where each of the gods and demigods are staying, and our best routes of escape once we get in there and grab Frey.”

  Well, now I really did feel like an idiot, but I couldn’t let them know this wasn’t all part of my act to convince the world I had no business playing superhero, so I pointed to the paper and asked, “If it’s a blueprint, why isn’t it blue?”

  “Why—” John started, but Tyr interrupted him.

  “Don’t fall down that rabbit hole. You may never get back out.”

  I shrugged and decided to run with it, because the day I couldn’t embrace my title as the Dumbest Man Alive would be the day I finally caved and just became Havard Jr. “I’m just saying, it’s a misnomer. It shouldn’t be called a blueprint when even the print isn’t blue.”

  “Please stop,” John begged.

  “You know,” I said instead, “you remind me of my high school biology teacher. He never let me ask questions either. And I’m not even trying to get you to discuss animal genitalia.”

  John glanced at Tyr and said, “Didn’t you mention he’s terrified of Badb? Go get her.”

  “Do it and I’ll jump out that window,” I fake-threatened, which turned into a completely hollow fake threat since Tyr snorted and dared me to try. In my haste to avoid being cursed by Agnes, I’d forgotten hotel windows were always sealed shut.

  “I need to get her anyway,” Tyr said. “We can’t keep wasting time. Any minute now, Ninurta will call and demand an answer from us about surrendering our heroes.”

  And I still planned to go if it saved Frey, but I had no idea how to communicate with Ninurta privately. If Tyr found out what I was going to do, he’d probably whisk me off to Asgard and I couldn’t cross the veil alone. I’d be stuck in their realm until he allowed me back on Earth. “So translate this whiteprint for me,” I said.

  “The name doesn’t…” He sighed again and rubbed his eyes. I thought I deserved some sort of medal for being able to make him do that so often. “Just stay with me, okay?”

  “Got it, but if any giant wolves show up refusing to allow themselves to be bound unless someone sticks a hand in their mouth, I’m out of there.”

  But he’d apparently decided not to let me throw him off his game anymore. He lifted his prosthetic hand and said, “I can always buy another one.”

  And really, once your friends stop allowing you to annoy the hell out of them, it’s not even fun to try. But as we stepped into the hallway, I pulled on his arm to stop him and quietly asked, “Has Agnes mentioned anything about Yngvarr?”

  His eyebrows pulled together and he answered, “She’s concerned as we all are.”

  “Yeah, but… is she more concerned than everyone else?”

  “Gavyn, if you’re worried about them resuming some affair they began a long time ago, you’re just going to have to get over it. It’s completely unfair for you to expect them to feel or act differently just because it bothers you.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?” I shot back.

  “No, why should it?”

  I didn’t actually have a good reason for that. Maybe my reaction was just residual resentment over my kidnapping and resulting emasculation, and the only reason I’d forgiven Keira was that I’d fallen in love with her. “Fine,” I hissed. “But when they have little witch babies that take over Asgard and Earth, just remember I tried to stop this.”

  Tyr nodded as if that were completely reasonable. “I’ll make sure nobody blames you for the witch-baby-pocalypse.”

  Agnes, who joined us as her young, hot self, kept shooting me strange looks, so I shot her a strange look and told her to stop hitting on me. She tossed her bright red hair over a shoulder and lifted her chin, but when she asked me how Yngvarr was doing, I could tell she wasn’t nearly as nonchalant about it as she wanted us to believe. So even though I cringed as I answered her, I assured her he’d be fine.

  It seemed totally bizarre to me that we were just going to drive to this hotel and walk in, but that’s basically what we did. John insisted it was the safest way to get us to the hotel, and that we’d just blend in with other visitors. If we’d shown up in a helicopter or tank or something worthy of a Michael Bay movie, we’d not only alert Ninurta and his followers we were there, but we’d likely get Frey killed. And we were kinda trying to avoid that.

  We parked in the garage and rode the elevator to the hotel’s lobby, but I couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t right. I initially brushed it off as an, “Of course something isn’t right. Ninurta and his evil minions are here.” But a nagging little voice kept whispering that wasn’t all, and if we attempted to walk through those doors into the hotel, we’d all die far sooner than we’d planned. Not that I thought John had planned his death or anything, but the rest of us with destinies and prophecies kinda had no choice.

  The glass doors taunted me, practically begging to be opened and discover just what was so wrong about this hotel. Agnes stepped toward them, but I grabbed her arm and stopped her. I’d never seen her look so surprised, but she didn’t pull her arm away from me. “Something’s up,” I whispered. “Haven’t you noticed no one else is here? Where are all the guests and employees?”

  Tyr scratched his chin as he stared thoughtfully at the empty lobby. “Come to think of it, did anyone notice if there were any other people driving th
rough the garage? A hotel of this size, surely someone would be checking in or out?”

  And that was exactly the problem. It was far too quiet. “It’s a trap,” I said.

  “If Frey’s here, we have to go in anyway,” Agnes said.

  “I don’t see how dying will help him,” I argued.

  “What do you think will happen if we open the door?” Tyr asked. “Explosion? Buckets of acid above our heads? Charged by rhinoceroses?”

  “Dude,” I retorted, “rhinos?”

  He just shrugged. “Ever gotten close to one? Those bastards are mean.”

  “You’re a very strange man,” I said.

  John, who’d been quietly listening to us talk about traps and rhino invasions, announced, “Stay back. I’ll go in first.”

  “I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said, but he cut me off and insisted, “I’m expendable. There are billions of humans in this world, but a very limited number of gods and demigods and even fewer who are willing to stand up to those causing so much trouble. If anything explodes or I get mauled by a herd of rhinos, get out of here. There’s always a chance our intelligence was bad, and Frey isn’t even here.”

  Tyr and Agnes began arguing that the whole reason we were here is that no human life was expendable, which honestly kinda made me proud I considered them friends now, but John ignored their protests and headed toward the lobby. I hadn’t been able to travel with my shield, so I had nothing we could hide behind in case the hotel did explode. We just stood there helplessly, watching a man march bravely to his death.

  Except the lobby didn’t blow up. The doors swung open and he stepped inside, and absolutely nothing happened. No acid rain, no rhino stampede. We all glanced at each other in a sort of, “Oh, what the hell—gotta die sometime, right?,” moment and followed John inside.