Outfox: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Sentry of the South Book 2)

by Annabel Chase

  “May I present Danielle Degraff and Peter Zilla?” the crow announced.

  “Come forward so that I may inspect you,” she said. If she was surprised to see us here, she didn’t let it show.

  Peter and I took a few steps closer to the dais. The crow sighed and ruffled his feathers. “You can get closer,” he said. “My ladyship doesn’t bite.”

  “True. I am not a vampire,” Eirlys said. She inclined her head as she scrutinized us in turn. “You found them wandering the mist world, Muninn?”

  “They must have followed me back here,” the crow lied. “Clever ones, these two.”

  Eirlys observed us coolly. “Now that you’ve managed to find me in this faraway land, what is it you’d like to know?”

  “I think it’s obvious,” I said. “We want our half of the sword back that your friend here stole from my family.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she replied primly. “Even if I wanted to return it, it is no longer in my possession.”

  I flinched. That had not been the answer I expected to hear.

  “You’re working for someone else,” Peter said. More of a statement than a question.

  Eirlys laughed gaily. “Well, of course I am. That’s what I do.”

  I had a hard time believing this goddess-like woman wasn’t the one seeking power over the sword. “Slatra isn’t for you?”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “My interests lie elsewhere. I am considered an acquisitions expert.”

  Peter lit up. “Hey, what a coincidence. Me, too.”

  Her mouth tightened. “I highly doubt our tasks are of the same caliber.”

  Peter rubbed the toe of his boot against the transparent floor. “Well, no, because I don’t put dangerous and deadly weapons in the wrong hands.”

  Her brow lifted. “Oh, I see. So you’re an ethical acquisitions expert. I’ll bear that in mind the next time I’m in need of someone with a conscience.” She tapped her elegant finger against her chin. “That’s right. I am never in need of someone with a conscience.”

  “Where’s the top half of the sword now?” I asked. More importantly, was it in the same place as the bottom half?

  Eirlys held out an arm and the crow came to rest on her forearm. “You must know that my client list is highly confidential. There’s nothing you can say to persuade me to part with that information.”

  Peter tensed. “There’s nothing we can say to persuade you, but maybe there’s something we can do.”

  As she stared at him, amusement danced in her lavender eyes. “I doubt there is anything you can do, Mr. Zilla. I am quite skilled in ways that would threaten your very existence.”

  “Is that a fancy way of telling me you’ll kill me?” he asked.

  “If I will it to happen, it happens,” Eirlys replied simply.

  “Same here,” he said, his jaw set.

  She steepled her hands and lightly tapped the pads of her fingers together. “I knew there was a familiar darkness in you. I felt it the moment you passed through my ward. To be honest, I thought it was the fire witch here. I didn’t think it could possibly be you.”

  Peter straightened. “Why couldn’t it be me? I look threatening.” He flexed his muscles in an effort to appear intimidating.

  “You’re a fine physical specimen, don’t get me wrong.” Eirlys smiled. “But I assumed that was the extent of what you had to offer. Now I see that I was wrong.”

  “If you can sense what I am, then you know what I’m capable of,” Peter said.

  Eirlys narrowed her eyes. “I said I sense darkness.”

  I held up a finger. “Actually, you said a familiar darkness. What does that mean?”

  “I’m a Valkyrie,” she replied. “Do you understand now?”

  Regretfully, I shook my head. I hated not knowing things. “I know what you are, of course,” I said, remembering the Valkyrie from my vision. “I just don’t associate your kind with darkness.”

  Eirlys rose from her chair and began to pace the transparent floor. “Many of my sisters focus purely on their good qualities. They ignore their gruesome heritage.”

  “But not you?” I queried.

  She moved her arm so that the crow moved to perch on the back of her chair. “I embrace all of my sides. We served Odin. On the battlefield, we had power over life and death.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Peter murmured.

  “If we wanted a warrior to fall, he fell.” She practically spat the last word. “And if he wasn’t falling naturally, sometimes we resorted to magic to make it happen. We were ruthless.”

  “Then you, of all paranormals, should understand what possessing this sword means,” I said. “It’s a dangerous weapon.”

  “All weapons are dangerous,” she shot back. “The fangs of a vampire. The jaws of a werewolf. The wand of a witch.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “It is up to the individual how she wields that power. I have no say in the matter.”

  “Your ancestor had a say in the matter,” I told her. “A Valkyrie broke the sword in half and said that it was a gift from Odin that he regretted.”

  “Yes, a gift from Odin himself,” she replied, stroking the feathers of Muninn while she spoke. “As were these crows.”

  “The crows are gifts from Odin?” My attention shifted to the bird.

  “My brother is out in the world at present, serving another purpose,” Muninn said.

  “They have been passed down in my family for generations,” Eirlys said. “They once belonged to Odin himself. It was how he kept track of world events.”

  “He sent them out to observe and report back,” I said. That explained how the crow knew, not just about Hef’s whereabouts, but the dwarf’s very existence. The crow had been around when Hef’s ancestors served the god himself.

  “Correct,” Eirlys said.

  A thought occurred to me and I shifted my attention to the crow. “Except you did more than observe and report this time, didn’t you?”

  He lifted his head in defiance. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You took the top half of the sword from my aunt’s house,” I said. “That’s why there was no evidence of entry. You knew where the sword was kept from spying, so you flew in from the open ceiling on the top floor of the house and stole it from the library. Your wings scattered papers onto the floor while you wrestled with the piece.”

  The crow hummed to himself, unwilling to admit anything.

  “Did you take the blade from Halse as well?” I asked.

  “No, he did not,” Eirlys said.

  “And was the sword originally in your family as well?” I asked.

  “No, the sword was a gift to a brave warrior,” she replied. “He was favored by Odin, so the god designed a sword to help him win every battle. One touch of the blade would slay his enemy. No need for violence or bloodshed. Only the possessor of the sword was immune. As with so many things, however, the god giveth and the god taketh away. He was a lauded hero during his lifetime, but the moment came when Odin decided his champion was to join his brethren in Valhalla.”

  “Did he object?” Peter asked.

  Eirlys dropped her gaze. “No, not him. Warriors were different then. Loyal. Brave. He did as his god commanded. Two of my family members were tasked with escorting the great warrior to Valhalla. It was an honor for them.”

  “Why not destroy the sword?” Peter asked.

  “I believe Odin felt that he had destroyed it because he decreed that only a swordsmith blessed by the gods could reforge the two pieces together,” she said. “And he believed that by separating the pieces, they would never be brought back together.”

  “If that sword gets reforged, it’s a heavy burden to bear,” Peter said. “Does your client understand this? The sense of responsibility? Surely, your ancestors understood the weight of life and death.”

  Eirlys studied him closely. “Now I see you, Death Bringer.”

  Peter gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

&nbs
p; “You have the staff?” Her voice bordered on excitement.

  “It doesn’t work the same way as the sword,” he said. “The staff is only powerful in my hands. If I gave it to you, its power would evaporate.”

  “Like consecration,” I said. We’d practiced consecrating weapons at the academy and making them our own. The lesson had been easy for me because I’d been taught consecration from a young age.

  “Not quite like consecration,” the Valkyrie said. “The staff requires a genetic link, not a ritual.”

  Peter’s expression was solemn. “It does.”

  “If you must know, I don’t believe my client is interested in being responsible,” she said. “The goal is power. A desire as ancient as time itself.”

  This was bad news. “Is there any way you would reconsider divulging the name of your client?” I asked. I knew it was a futile request, but I had to try.

  She gave me a sympathetic look. “My discretion is integral to my success, little dove. I’m sorry, but I will not help you.”

  To her credit, she actually sounded sincere. “Thank you for the information you’ve been willing to give,” I said.

  “And for not killing us,” Peter added. “We appreciate that, too.”

  She lowered her head. “Muninn will see you safely back to the border. The mist world can be a brutal place for the uninitiated.”

  “Thank you,” Peter said.

  We crossed the cavernous room to exit the ice castle. Our shoes left black scuff marks on the transparent floor along the way.

  “You’re stuck with us for a little longer,” I told the crow.

  “It’s refreshing to have a change in company,” Muninn said, once we were outside in the mist. “My brother and I have lived so long with our ladyship that we often crave other company.”

  “But you’re out in the world every day,” I said. “Doesn’t that count?”

  The crow heaved a deep sigh. “Observe and report. Not interact. Interaction draws attention.”

  I suppressed a smile. “Tracking the same alert witch day in and day out draws attention, too.”

  “You weren’t a typical assignment,” he said. “I don’t usually hover too long around the same creatures.”

  “But your boss wanted to keep tabs on our progress,” Peter said.

  The crow switched sides to fly closer to Peter. “More than usual. I think she feared your involvement and, rightfully so, it seems.”

  We passed by an enormous boulder covered in a frosty glaze. “This place is eerily beautiful,” I said.

  “It is as beautiful as it is treacherous,” the crow replied. “Like my ladyship.”

  I began to sense dissension in the ranks. If there were any cracks in the relationship, maybe there was a chance I could crowbar my way in between them. If Eirlys refused to help us, maybe Muninn would.

  “It seems to me your ladyship would be better off using her impressive powers in a more meaningful way,” I said. “Why work for the undeserving?”

  The crow was silent for a moment before answering. “I think it’s fear.”

  Peter started to cough. “Fear? That icy Valkyrie back there?” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s the furthest from fear a living being can get.”

  “She hides it, but I know her well,” the crow said.

  “What is she afraid of?” I asked. “She lives in isolation and has great power of her own.”

  “Why do you think she chooses to live in isolation?” the crow asked. “There is no need to dwell in the mist world.”

  “So she’s afraid of others?” I queried. “But she’s so powerful in her own right.”

  “My ladyship fears hurting others. She fears her power.”

  Peter frowned. “But she told us she embraces all her sides. Doesn’t that mean she accepts her darkness?”

  “She accepts but does not use,” the crow said. “Her words were mere posturing. Otherwise, she risked you making good on your threat to force her tongue. She prefers not to tap into her dark side, the same as you, Mr. Zilla.”

  “So she lives here on her own and takes jobs that are beneath her, so she’s not tempted to go full Valkyrie?” I asked.

  “In a nutshell, yes,” the crow replied.

  “And yet she’s willing to deliver the sword to someone unworthy,” Peter said.

  “Anyone who desires the sword is unworthy in my eyes,” the crow said. “The halves should have been left where they were, undisturbed.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “Are you bound to Eirlys? Do you have to do her bidding?”

  “Do I have free will? Is that your question?” The crow swooped around our heads and the breeze blew a few strands of my hair out of place. I carefully tucked them back behind my ear.

  “You seem unhappy with the situation,” I said. “That’s my point. If you have free will, then why do her bidding? Can’t you leave?”

  “Leaving is not an option,” he said. “If we leave, we cease to exist, so we’re bound in that sense. The ancient spell that keeps us alive will unravel.”

  “Then try to persuade her to change course,” I said. “Isn’t it much better to save lives than take them? She obviously agrees or she wouldn’t hide from the world.”

  “Time to magic yourself a pair of snowshoes,” the crow advised.

  He was right. The frosted ground had turned to snow and, the further ahead I looked, the deeper it got. I took out my wand and performed a quick manifestation spell.

  Peter glanced down at the cross-country skis under his feet. “Even better than snow shoes.”

  “I figured skis would be faster,” I said.

  “How much further to the border?” Peter asked.

  “About five miles, as I fly,” the crow said.

  We pushed off and began the snowy trek to the border. I laughed to myself when I noticed Peter trying to stay ahead of me.

  “It’s not a competition,” I yelled.

  “With you? Always,” he called back over his shoulder.

  I increased my speed. If the druid wanted healthy competition, I was happy to give it to him. It only took half a mile for me to pass him and gain a comfortable lead. The crow flew alongside me, enjoying the spectacle.

  “His heart is good,” Muninn said. “Don’t let his bravado fool you.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Then why keep him at a distance?”

  I groaned. The crow was offering advice on my love life? “I don’t. He’s with me now, isn’t he?”

  “Because of the sword,” the crow said.

  “If I didn’t like his company, I wouldn’t let him join me,” I said. My cheeks felt numb from the cold. I should have spelled myself a warm hat that covered most of my face.

  “You are not so different from Eirlys,” he said.

  I nearly stopped in my tracks, but I didn’t want to lose my significant lead over Peter. “Say that again?”

  “You’re keeping the druid at bay the same way my ladyship keeps the world at bay.”

  “I’m not concerned with killing him,” I said. Well, maybe I was when he really got under my skin.

  The border loomed on the horizon. I didn’t have much time left to convince him, so I decided to yank hard on the metaphorical crowbar. “Muninn, I don’t think you want the blood of this sword on your…beak.”

  “I am not the one wielding the blade,” the crow replied.

  I slowed to give him my full attention. “You do understand that you’ll be responsible for any deaths that result from the use of that sword, right? You’ve been more than a passive participant. You found Hef. You retrieved the top half of the sword.”

  “The dwarf is a wonderful family man,” the crow said wistfully. “I observed him many times before I gave my report.”

  And there it was. Hesitation. “You didn’t want to give his information to Eirlys?”

  “I didn’t wish to endanger him, or his family,” Muninn replied. “I delayed as long as I could.”
r />   “Why did you relent?” I asked. “Why not say you couldn’t find him?”

  The crow blinked at me. “Because I do not fail. I have not failed in all the years since the time of Odin and I don’t intend to start now.”

  He sounded like me. “You failed with me,” I pointed out. “You let me capture you and then guided us here.”

  The crow’s feathers brushed against my arm. “I believe the key phrase in that statement is let you.”

  Ah. He wanted to be caught. “If that’s how you feel, then help us now. You once belonged to Odin. The god himself deemed the sword no longer fit for purpose. You go against his wishes now by allowing someone to bring the two halves together. It may be in the service of your ladyship, but it’s not what Odin intended.”

  The crow flew in silence for a moment. “Slatra is here.”

  “What?” I came to a complete stop and nearly slid right out of my skis in the process. “In one piece?”

  “It’s possible, but I’m not sure. I was tasked with watching you to make sure you didn’t interfere.”

  My stomach plummeted. “Muninn, you have to take me there. Now.”

  The crow cawed loudly and I heard his frustration in the sound. “My ladyship must never know of this.”

  My heart beat rapidly. “I promise.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Peter wasn’t far behind, although he was doubled over and trying to catch his breath when he finally reached us. “Did you magic yourself a new set of lungs, princess?” he asked, panting.

  “We can’t leave yet,” I said. “The sword is here.”

  “Here?” Peter echoed. “In the mist world?”

  The crow perched on my shoulder. “The client requested that a special forge be created here, so that the dwarf could reforge the sword without interference from interested third parties.”

  “Like us,” I added.

  The crow nodded. “My ladyship made arrangements for an additional fee.”

  “Why? It’s not like she needs the money,” Peter said.

  “I persuaded my ladyship by reminding her that the dwarf is blessed by the gods,” Muninn said. “I feared for his life and felt that, if he were in the mist world, I could better protect him. The frost giants agreed to insure his safety.”