by T. G. Ayer
Aimee’s jaw dropped just as Joshua’s eyes widened before he shifted his attention back to the All-Father. “I’m sorry, my lord. Someone else important needs to know…I owe it to him to let him know first.” Joshua hung his head, ashamed even though he’d heard Odin support his decision not to talk.
The god chuckled, the sound vibrating deep within Joshua’s, right to the bones. “Einherjar Joshua, please. I will trust you for the time being to do what you think is best. But do not take too long, son. We cannot afford to wait to follow important leads.” When Joshua reddened, Odin lifted his hand, the movement and the god’s expression comforting. “You have my blessing. Please come to me if you need any help.”
Joshua nodded, then cleared his throat. “How…how did you know Loki is responsible.”
Odin smiled and gave a self-deprecating smirk. “My brother, Mimir. He has spoken.”
Joshua nodded, then swallowed hard. “Would I be able to hear what he had to say?”
“Of course, young man. You may request an audience with Mimir with Frigga. She will tell you when.”
Joshua nodded, still a little surprised that the god was so forthcoming. Still, one should never look a gift horse in the mouth.
Of a gift god, either.
Chapter 10
The scout team gathered in the transporter room, the warriors clustering together within the heat of the small space. Despite the crush, the buzz of tense expectation filled the air.
As Joshua surveyed the room, he received a smile and a wave from Sigrun and returned it, then spotted Bryn just ahead of him. He sent her a wide grin, glad to see her looking so well. But even as he smiled he caught sight of Mika who stood beyond Bryn’s red-bronze wings.
Mika smiled, shifting so that she was standing right beside Bryn, tightening her sword belt as she shifted, the move sending a shard of ice through Joshua’s brain. Was Mika blatantly threatening Bryn right in front of Joshua’s eyes?
Now more than ever, Joshua was certain the Ulfr was aware of his investigation and that she found his progress a threat. Which only confirmed that she had something to hide.
Bryn’s face darkened and her smile disappeared as she turned and grabbed a sword, weighing it in her hand, paying close attention to the hilt. Joshua felt a little uncomfortable, watching Mika and the way she hovered over Bryn.
That Bryn was partnered with the more than likely traitorous Ulfr, didn’t sit at all well with Joshua.
“We’re going to have to keep an eye on her,” murmured Aimee as she chose a short dagger.
Around Joshua, warriors, valkyries, and Ulfr readied themselves, suiting up in dark cloaks that hid their weapons, and thick-soled boots.
Fenrir motioned for the team to step onto the Bridge and Joshua glanced at Aimee, concerned at the tension on her face.
“It’ll be fine. Just breathe. You may feel a little nauseous, shaky on the landing.” Joshua nodded sending Aimee a comforting glance.
Aimee made a face, pretending that Joshua’s support was not required, yet he wasn’t blind to the gratitude in her eyes. She nodded and stepped with him, following Fen and the small team into the Bifrost on their way to Egypt.
Joshua squinted as his feet hit the ground, but he was paying more attention to Aimee who swayed on her feet beside him. The air was thick and hot, the sun searing his skin; Joshua could already feel his the sweat blooming.
Aimee took a breath and moved a step closer to Joshua as he scanned the white-painted courtyard overflowing with greenery. A marble fountain sparkled so brightly in the sunshine that Joshua had to shield his eyes. The courtyard occupied a space within a two-storied house but was open to the air. Air filled with the sound of distant gunfire.
“That can’t be good,” whispered Aimee, and Joshua felt her tension within his own bones.
As though he felt their concern, Fen’s voice wrapped around them. “These people live in troubled times,” he said. “The gunfire would be from the army who now controls most of the city.”
“Where are we, exactly?” Bryn asked.
“Cairo, Egypt,” Fen said. “Let’s get going.”
“Won’t someone notice us?” Aimee asked. “It’s not exactly like we blend in, you know.”
Fen turned his gaze toward Aimee and Joshua, and hid a smile. Fen pretended to scowl when considering the questions of his students.
Sigrun moved toward Aimee. “Not all of us,” she said. “The Valkyries and Ulfr will use their glamor. The Warriors will be the only ones that humans can see.”
Aimee gave a silent “Oh,” and then said, “Glamor? Oh, you make yourself invisible? So people here will only see Joshua and me?”
“Let’s go,” Fen cut in. The General sounded impatient as he headed to the door in the wall that led beyond the house. He paused in front of the whitewashed door, then opened it, slipping outside for a few seconds before he disappeared from view.
Joshua paused as he joined the team in the narrow street, then glanced over at Mika for a second, wondering what the Ulfr was planning.
Bryn headed toward Fen and glanced around at the team, “Remember, we only have thirty minutes to get to the Khan el-Khalili souk,” he said sharply. “Pick up the pace.”
Joshua and Aimee followed the small group through the uneven streets toward the souk. They entered a wall of noises and smells that hit Joshua like a blow to the face. Hawkers yelled, encouraging passers-by or haggling loudly, or just plain engaging in robust conversation. Joshua sidestepped a donkey as it snapped its tail.
Joshua passed stalls filled with heaped piles of spices, blood-red chilies, golden turmeric, and a variety more, ones filled with piles of carpets, and brassware, fruit and vegetables, not to mention all the animals that squawked and cackled around them.
Bryn was up ahead, hidden from the crowd by her glamor, and Joshua followed in her invisible wake, worried as tourists and shoppers hurried around her unseen form.
Joshua’s eyes widened as he watched as a little boy up ahead of Bryn, swerving through the crowd, stood to grab a handful of fresh flatbreads from a hawker and scampered off with his loot. Only problem was the little scamp was making a beeline for invisible Bryn.
“Shit,” Joshua muttered.
“I see it,” Aimee snapped. “What can we do?”
But as they watched the boy bounced off Bryn and skidded to a stop, his soiled kaftan flapping around his ankles. He turned to look over his shoulder toward Bryn, probably a little stunned at bumping into nothing, but another shout echoed as a couple of men gave chase.
Something—probably Bryn—shoved the little boy and he fled, eyes wide and terrified. As the men closed in on Bryn, Joshua could almost see what was about to happen, even before the first man tripped over nothing and fell on his face, his red-and-yellow patterned robes flying in a scattering of color. The second man followed closely mimicking his companion’s moments, eating dust as well.
Joshua winced again as an overweight tourist waddled right into Bryn’s way. Aimee gasped but thankfully no collision occurred.
“Oh man,” muttered Aimee as a chicken squawked and flapped, attempting to escape the deadly sharp cleaver in the hand of her owner.
“Invisible or not, Bryn is good on her feet,” Joshua said out of the side of his mouth. Shaking his head he said, “I’d best remain on high alert where Invisi-Bryn is concerned.”
Chapter 11
The squeaking chicken didn’t stop, but was soon silenced with the ker-thunk of the knife. The team kept moving through the busy souk until they neared a spice stall and a black-garbed customer yelling something unsavory at the old stall-owner. The old man gave as good as he got, jabbing a bony finger at the harridan.
Joshua realized soon enough that he’d spoken too soon.
“Uh oh,” said Aimee softly.
The ancient man flung a hand out, its arc stopped by Bryn’s unseen form.
Joshua slowed along with the rest of their small contingent and he looked at Aimee, whose face mi
rrored his expression.
Even though the old man’s customer continued to spew vitriol at him, he stopped paying her any attention, distracted by someone.
“Oh shit, he’s seen her,” Joshua said, groaning.
Aimee gasped. “How is that even possible?”
“Some people can see things.” Mika leaned closer as she spoke.
And as she said the words the old man reached toward Bryn. Mika wasted no time, just rushed past where Joshua guessed Bryn was standing.
Mika tossed the bowls of spices, a cloud of red and yellow billowing from the stall, eliciting sneezes and coughs from the screeching woman which resulted in further screams and swearing. Meanwhile, the old man ignored her, instead flapping his hands and calling out in despair at his wrecked stall.
Joshua drew close enough to hear Bryn say, “You didn’t have to do that.”
Still invisible, Mika replied, “Did you wish me to allow him to touch you? To know that something strange was happening in the souk?”
“No, but you could have found some other way to distract him,” said Bryn, her tone furious. “You’ve destroyed his livelihood.”
“Ha. That was one tiny bit of his wares, Bryn. It was just half a dozen bowls of spices, not his entire warehouse.” Mika was shaking her head, her expression tinged with disgust. “For a Midgardian you are very naive.”
Joshua and Aimee closed in on Fen who’d come to a stop up ahead. “What’s the problem?” the warrior asked, scowling.
“Some guy bumped into me,” Bryn snapped, her tone belligerent. “Mika had to create a distraction.”
“It is fine now. The man is otherwise occupied,” Mika supplied.
“Yeah. Otherwise occupied with the destruction of his property,” Bryn snapped, staring angrily at Mika.
The Ulfr general scowled at Bryn and his daughter but remained silent. After a cursory glance at the aftermath of the spice-stall disaster, Fen said, “Let us go. We do not have the time to waste,” then spun and walked off.
Joshua and the rest of the team picked up the pace and hurried after him.
Fenrir headed up a couple of crumbling stone stairs and entered a narrow alley, this one also hemmed in by hawkers. The air was redolent of roasted meat, scented with mint, and Joshua felt a tug of hunger.
Aimee and Joshua, still maintaining their pretense of a young tourist couple, hurried to keep up with the long strides of the Ulfr as he took a right and headed inside a small carpet shop. Carpets hung from the ceilings, covered the walls, and were strewn around in deep piles and low stacks.
Fen weaved his way between the carpets along the only clear route available, toward a sober man who was focused on the carpets in front of him. The man wore a long white kaftan and a fez. Fen and the man spoke for a short while before the warrior flicked his fingers to beckon them to follow him out back of the stall, disappearing between a pair of suspended carpets.
Behind the stall was a blue door held open by a low wooden stool. The team filed through behind Fen through the silent house and out the back where a rickety old truck idled, its engine sputtering as if on its last legs.
Joshua scanned the back of the truck, finding bare wooden boards and the feathery detritus of a plucked chicken.
Fen glanced over at Joshua and Aimee, beckoning them closer with a mere look. “Aimee and Joshua, please sit in the front with the driver.” He reached into the satchel slung around his shoulder and retrieved two passports, handing it over to the pair with a few sheets of paper. “These are papers you will need to get through the checkpoints. There are clothes on the front seat that will allow you to blend in with the people of this country. It is safer for you to travel as natives rather than tourists, hence the need for the native garments.”
The Ulfr opened each passport, pressed his thumb onto the photos and then passed them out. He motioned for Aimee and Joshua to come closer and handed them a few items of clothing. “You will be up front with the driver,” Fen said to Joshua. “The rest of us will be in the back. Our glamor will hide us, but we have to be careful. Checkpoints along the way. Just be natural, don’t get stressed.”
Joshua nodded, tucked his documents into a pocket and pulled on the fez the Ulfr had given him. Joshua sat the little cap on his head, then scowled, aware that it wasn’t sitting right. First time wearing a fez was certainly no fun.
The situation worsened with the sound of Aimee’s clear amusement, unable to hold back her soft giggles as she drew on a black floor-length robe that covered her face, leaving only a narrow gap for her eyes.
Joshua grinned at her and the pair headed to the cab of the small truck. Aimee climbed in first, followed by Joshua, who jumped in and slammed the door shut, only a little tense. He peered past Aimee at the driver, a surly thickset old man who gave a terse nod in greeting. “Zubair,” the man said before staring ahead in silence.
Aimee glanced at Joshua, widened her eyes and smiled, easing a little of Joshua’s tension. The truck swayed as the rest of the team climbed in the back, and a quick check of the rear-view mirror confirmed their glamor concealed them perfectly. Moments later, Zubair took off, the engine complaining so loudly that Joshua winced. The temptation to tell the man to stop, to offer to have a look at the engine was great, but Joshua tamped it down. Not the time nor the place.
The vehicle appeared to sway and bounce along instead of moving forward as a normal truck would. It seemed to have taken ages before they reached the checkpoint Fen had warned them of.
The brakes screeched, the clutch complaining loudly as Zubair geared down and rolled to a stop. A scowling soldier in a gray-green uniform drew up to the driver’s window and snapped out something in Arabic. To Joshua it sounded far too angry for a mere greeting and he hoped they weren’t already in trouble before they’d even gotten the mission off the ground.
Zubair, however, turned to the soldier, offering a much friendlier greeting than he had been given. The soldier though, was unimpressed, his dark scowling expression making Joshua more nervous as the man looked past the driver to study first Joshua and then Aimee.
The loud, almost angry demand that followed couldn’t have been good. Zubair glanced over at Joshua, evading Aimee’s eyes altogether. “Passports.” He held up an open palm.
Joshua and Aimee placed their documents in Zubair’s large palm and waited as he handed them over. Joshua studied the soldier, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible. The man must have been hired for his hard, scowling nature since he was the kind of person that nobody in their right mind would attempt to cajole or bribe.
The soldier scanned Joshua and Aimee, suspicious, almost angry, before meeting Joshua’s gaze. He motioned for Joshua to roll down his window and then barked out another order. Zubair looked over at Joshua. “You go,” he said, his expression terse as though Joshua had caused the soldier to demand his presence.
The soldier rounded the truck and came to stand in front of Joshua. Perhaps the man had intended to be intimidating but it was hard to be scared of a guy who was a full head shorter than you, even if he carried a submachine gun.
The scowling soldier glared up at Joshua, studied the passport, then looked up again.
Right, this is the moment. We’re so screwed.
A few very long moments passed before the soldier’s hard features softened a fraction and he gave a short nod and headed back to the driver’s window.
He bent low and studied the undercarriage, then straightened before returning their passports and stalking off to the wide boom before the truck.
Phew.
Chapter 12
Fenrir’s description of the retrieval was simple. But within the volatile landscape of a country simmering with tensions and unrest, that plan translated into something precarious.
Joshua had glanced at Aimee, all too aware that she’d been dumped into a civil war for her first Midgardian mission. Still, she seemed engaged and determined as opposed to afraid.
When the Ulfr general stopped speaki
ng, he paused and looked around at his small team, then his gaze drifted to the laptop and then landed on the whiteboard, his expression growing even darker. Joshua frowned, recognizing that look. Fen was more than worried; he was desperate.
Before Joshua could speak, Bryn moved to Fen’s side. “Fen?” she said, drawing the Ulfr’s attention from the board.
The pair shared a look that made Joshua wonder what else the group remained ignorant of. Then Fen sighed. “This should not be happening.” Fen’s face contorted with anger, and then he spun on his heel and faced the laptop, bringing up a world map.
“It is all the black pins that are worrying him,” said Ingrid, her tone tense.
“What do they mean? The black pins?” asked Bryn, glancing over her shoulder at the valkyrie.
Ingrid’s tone was dead as she replied, “Every black pin on that board indicates a Warrior we have lost.”
Even as Bryn said, “Lost?” Joshua was frowning, staring around at the team and then beyond at Fen who offered him only a short nod of confirmation.
Ingrid cleared her throat before addressing the group. “They are all dead.” She straightened, her poised expression now forced. “Over the last three weeks, every Warrior we have found and tried to retrieve has turned out to be irretrievable.”
Ingrid approached the map, aiming a hand at the groupings of black pins that marked the north of Africa. And Cairo was hemmed in by black. With only a single green pin in the middle of the darkness.
“This pin is the last Warrior we have on our list. Medeia Karim. After her, it is a waiting game until the next Warrior turns up.”
Bryn took a soft breath. “Why were they irretrievable? Were y . . . were we too late?”
“No, we were on time. They just were not retrievable. They had all stopped glowing.” Ingrid looked over at Fen, who responded with a short jerky action that was presumable a nod.