Siren Slave

by Aurora Styles

  I could find out how many knife wounds it takes to die. People must wonder about that.

  To her relief, Berengar sped past her, ran down the hall she had come from, and she heard the clash of steel. Was Hedwig still alive if the Druids had made it this far?

  She heard footsteps and glanced over her shoulder. Big mistake. Five hooded figures pursued her. The lightning bolts were back, her vision going black, then clear again.

  She did not stop as she neared the great hall, blindly finding her way and only after stumbling thrice. Hedwig and Balder still had to be alive, if the druids had not caught up to her after that many falls. There was a happy thought that didn’t make it seem as if someone was ramming a hot iron repeatedly into her temples.

  She flung open the wooden double doors and didn’t bother trying to keep the wings any longer.

  “Freya, you—” her mother started.

  Oh. The wings were still there? This is awkward.

  Freya’s vision lasted long enough for her to see everyone gaping at her as she hurried to the other end of the great hall decorated for the wedding. She heard the boots and swishing robes of Druids still behind her. A knife flashed past her, then another lancing pain in her skull.

  She tumbled and was surrounded by pastries, wings disappearing. But those pastries, they were irresistible despite the danger. Damn Hedwig’s potion.

  “Ooh, honeyed bread.” Freya grabbed one as she struggled to rise. “Why are they called pastries? Is it because the honey makes some sort of paste, and—ow!” Not only had the pastries fallen, but so had the candles shaped like gods. The lightning bolts behind her eyes blanked out the pain and delirium ensued. “Isn’t it weird that the one incinerating my leg looks like Woden?” The one shaped like Nerthus had lost her feet in the fall.

  A dagger pinged off her winged band. The pain in her head was back, so bad her stomach roiled. She doubled over, hearing another dagger whiz above her.

  Her vision cleared, and she saw someone had patted out the flames. A Druid was dead at her feet, two arrows in his skull. Etainen stood in front of her, bow in hand. Siegfried used a bow. Did she like Etainen because of his similarities with Siegfried?

  Do I still like him? I thought I’d decided I didn’t. But here he is, saving me again.

  “Move your ass,” Hedwig ordered, teetering into the hall, both of her heels broken. “What are you doing on the ground?”

  “Potion. Not helping,” Freya said. “Make the lightning bolts stop. I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Here.” Hedwig reached into the silver and green fish-scale satchel on her hip and flung a wineskin at her. “It’s just blueberry ale, no Delirious involved.” It hit Freya right in the middle of her forehead. “Go. Drink and run at the same time. You can do that, right?”

  Freya nodded and picked herself up. Was Odilia grinning while everyone else in the hall screamed for their lives? Freya could not ponder that. Not now. She fled to the balcony, grabbing the wineskin strap in her teeth before her arms became wings once again. She leapt, managing to become a swan for a few seconds. She transformed again as she hit the earth.

  She stumbled to her feet again, wishing she could take the Roman sandals off. She didn’t have time to undo all the lacings. She ran, hoping she did not trip as she guzzled the ale. When she’d finished, the wings were back again, helping her take great leaps. They gleamed in the moonlight, carrying her over the obstacles in her path. The white light also illuminated two dark shapes climbing over the balcony, and more hooded figures emerged from the trees.

  Well, this is a lot of Druids.

  She continued on, blades whizzing over her head. Wind began to whip about her. She shivered. Would there be a storm? The wind, at least, was helping to deflect the knives and daggers.

  ****

  Siegfried removed his arrow from the last Druid to fall. He’d been glad to use his bow rather than the twin blades strapped to his back. Archery had always been his forte. He whirled on Queen Adele and Chieftain Iccius, who appeared just as astonished as he.

  “A toast to vanquishing the foes of Princess Freya,” one guest said, though he’d done little. Really, not a damned thing besides watch and stare at his food, as if he were frustrated that dinner had been interrupted. He raised his glass and the other nobles joined in. No one made a single comment about the wings.

  Hedwig moved closer to Siegfried. “Why the hell are they toasting? Freya’s still out there, still being chased. We should go after her.”

  Siegfried tried to clear his head. Had he seen Freya with swan wings?

  Iccius opened his mouth to speak, but he only made a gagging sound. Adele rose to steady him and fell into a heap of pale skin and crimson linen at his feet. The chieftain clutched at his throat before he slumped in his chair. All throughout the hall, others, too, fell.

  “The wine. Someone has poisoned it,” one noble said.

  “I’m glad I’m not much of a drinker,” said Odilia, all too calm. A few other nobles who had not fallen looked in disbelief at the dead.

  “Freya, remember her?” Hedwig said, placing her hands atop her head to mimic Freya’s winged band.

  The hall doors were flung open again. This time, three men emerged, Berengar, Hartwin, and Faramund. Siegfried was relieved to see them.

  “What tragedy is this? Did the Druids kill the noble guests?” Berengar demanded.

  Odilia fixed narrowed eyes on Siegfried. “They were poisoned, all at once. It could have only been the accomplished by the Cimbri chieftain, working with the pirates. He was in the barracks last night with Freya.” Her voice was cold. An accusing finger, adorned by no less than three rings—three!—settled on Siegfried. “The wine casks were in the adjoining storerooms. Only Etainen and his men were allowed to enter.” She said not a word about the missing prisoners, probably to keep the escape a secret.

  “There was Swan, too,” a Roman guard said.

  “She wasn’t there long enough,” another said, rubbing the back of his neck where Swan had pummeled him. “I saw her release the prisoners. But Etainen, he’d been there for hours before Swan arrived, shouting and pacing past all the cells and the storerooms.”

  Siegfried had no doubts that Rome would make good on their threat to kill Etainen if he appeared to sympathize with the rebellious pirates. They were probably hoping the assassins took care of Freya.

  “Arrest the chieftain,” Faramund said. “Keep him in a cell until we know what to do.”

  “Not happening,” Hedwig said. “He’s innocent.”

  Berengar frowned at her. “Men will do a lot out of greed, Hedwig.”

  “I know that,” Hedwig snapped. “Do you think I’m stupid? If you remember, he already saved her a bunch of times. Besides, this started before he got here. Those are Druid knives. Haven’t heard anything about Etainen working with Druids.” She pulled a ceremonial dagger from her thigh. “This killed Freya’s other maid. Am I the only one who’s smart here? Ugh, don’t answer that. I already know the answer.”

  “Etainen saved Freya? And what would you know of Druids?” Odilia asked. “You came into Freya’s service yesterday. Perhaps you’ve bewitched her with some Druid magic. Who can say who works with Siegfried and who doesn’t? Perhaps you are one of his followers. But we have Etainen to contend with now. He was in the palace. It had to be him who poisoned the drink. He has the motive, and he was seen near the storeroom. He must have realized last night how Freya likes her drink, an easy way to be rid of her and her family. He probably thought killing one of his own Druids would be enough to alleviate suspicion against him, but he underestimated my ability to see the truth. What say you? Was it Etainen, or should we suspect you, newcomer?”

  Hedwig tossed her hair. “I won’t take credit for that shoddy, uncreative poison. Do not try to blame such shitty work on me. I will take credit for your many privy trips this morning. Hope you enjoyed the mysterious sauce on your meat.”

  Siegfried wondered if Hedwig knew she was not helping,
considering Odilia was turning such a deep red it was near purple, just like Freya had said. Grurple?

  “Perhaps Freya herself had something to do with this,” Odilia said. “We all saw the wings. She should not be allowed to rule no matter what. She is dangerous, not human.”

  Others voiced their agreement.

  “Arrest the maid,” Odilia bellowed. “She admitted to poisoning my food. She is working with Etainen.”

  Berengar and the others were behind Siegfried and Hedwig. Siegfried tugged her toward the balcony until they stood at the edge, the three guards staring them down.

  “There’s nowhere for you to go,” Berengar said as Hartwin pointed an arrow at them.

  Hedwig rolled her eyes. “Fine. I didn’t want to do this. Let me just say, I’m not a goddess. I just have magical powers, so no human sacrifices, unless they’re gorgeous men.”

  What?

  To Siegfried’s amazement, Hedwig raised her hands, surrounding herself with a bluish, greenish light. She ripped the wig from her head, letting long, wavy hair, the same color as the glow, tumble to her hips. “Nerthus, Mistress of the Seas, orders you to stand down now.” A whip appeared in Hedwig’s hand, a cat-of-nines with seashell barbs. Each barb was tied off with a blue ribbon. She used the whip to knock the bow from Hartwin’s hands.

  “Uh, we’re one story up,” Hedwig raised her brow at the whip. “So, I can use this in other situations. Good to know.”

  Siegfried nodded and flung both of them from the balcony while the men gaped. They tumbled and landed on the grass.

  “Lousy excuse for a palace,” Hedwig said as they came to their feet and took off running. “One story up? Really?”

  Hedwig stopped to catch her breath beneath shadows of spruce and pine, shadows that did absolutely nothing to conceal her bright purple and yellow toga, nor her hair.

  “What are you doing?” Siegfried asked, amazed at the woman’s speed. She was as fast as Swan. “Who the hell are you? What magician’s trick was that?”

  “I’m saving Freya, because I lost a bet,” she said. “She hasn’t learned her powers yet. Well, she’s learned some actually useful shit, but she won’t use it. If she’d stop being a baby, she could’ve easily killed those Druids. She’s having this annoying angst about her powers. She was fine until she came back here. I thought it was a dumb idea, letting her come back here after we’d told her who she really was. Too many people. Gods, I hate people. Their stupidity depresses me. She’s fey. Like me.” Hedwig heaved an exasperated, panting sigh.

  Fey, like those odd books that Siegfried’s messengers brought him.

  “She didn’t know until she learned her true name from us yesterday,” Hedwig continued. “She has enemies because of who her parents are, and—”

  “Adele and Iccius?”

  “Ugh. Her parents would be Hecate and Woden. So, you shouldn’t bungle up this rescue. Pretend all those tales we sent you are real, because they are. The Remi are only prosperous because Hecate and Woden didn’t want their precious baby to live like a complete savage.”

  “Even if I believed this, why wouldn’t the fey take Freya back to wherever they are, instead of leaving her in danger?”

  “Because Freya has Beast blood. Think of the problems that would create. Possible heir of Asgard with Beast blood?” She turned her face toward the darkness and kept talking, as if someone else were with them. “Enbarr? Oh, whatever, yes, I know you’re having your ‘I told you so’ moment. You’re going to make an exception for him? And you won’t let me ride you? And, yes, I have ridden just about every male in the Otherworld. So what.”

  Hedwig was tossing far too much information at him that was unbelievable, yet Siegfried had seen the swan wings and Hedwig’s glow. Her hair was definitely no wig. But Freya, the daughter of Hecate and Woden? Two more incongruous gods he could not conceive. Hedwig was mad. She was talking to someone who was not even there.

  A loud whinny came from his left. He caught sight of something white streaking through the trees, along with flashes of silver. It moved far too fast to be a horse or anything mortal.

  With no sound, the most remarkable creature he’d ever seen sprang from the darkness, a horse seemingly composed of moonlight. The creature stopped, its mane settling about him to fall to the earth in pale curls. The light shifted and a horn appeared between the horse’s eyes, a large pearlescent protrusion that ended in a sharp tip. A lion’s tail lashed behind him and a silver hoof pawed the dirt, rainbow light streaking from the earth. Flowers and butterflies swirled from the foliage beneath, even though it was night, to surround the beast.

  “Finally,” Hedwig said to the unicorn.

  Unicorn! Maybe…maybe there was some truth to what she said.

  The unicorn snorted and seemed to glare at Siegfried. It was definitely not a magician’s trick.

  “Good. You deal with him. I’ll meet you there.” Hedwig turned from the unicorn to Siegfried. “Find Freya.”

  “You want me to ride that?” He hoped reason would soon dawn upon Hedwig.

  Enbarr shoved Siegfried with his head and tugged on his sleeve, biting him in the process. He then touched Siegfried with his horn. For a moment, a prismatic light surrounded him.

  Would the beast try to kill him? Throw him? Surely the unicorn with its single horn was a bad omen. He didn’t trust odd numbers, not even the number one. Why couldn’t it have two horns?

  Hedwig made to leave but turned back suddenly. “Enbarr wants me to speak for him. He says, ‘Get on my back, Two-Legs, lest I lose patience with you. Freya Bright Mane is being herded toward danger. Hang tight to your Two-Legs weapons, because you’re going to need them.’ Finished, horse? Good.”

  Siegfried said nothing, only climbed onto Enbarr’s back. He wasn’t afraid of the unicorn. He’d often slain sea beasts. Yet he did not ride well. Riding on a strange beast and killing one were two completely different experiences.

  “Hedwig, why the hell are you helping me?” he asked.

  “Why would you think? You have a bow. I don’t.”

  Before he could respond to that, everything was a blur. Literally. The equine moved so quickly that Siegfried could not make sense of his surroundings. It looked as if a painting had been doused in water, the colors bleeding together into some senseless, fantastical dream.

  A senseless, fantastical dream. Was that what this all was? A side effect of the Delirious potion from the night before?

  Hedwig was Nerthus? She’d said as much in the grand hall. If he could accept the fact he was riding on a unicorn, which was irrefutable, couldn’t he accept that he’d just met the sea goddess? Or sea fey?

  Even if unicorns were real and Hedwig was the sea goddess, it still seemed impossible that Rome-loving Freya could be the daughter of Hecate, the Hecate from the texts. He’d read between those lines, and he’d understood why Balor and Hecate had fought, even though that had not been the intention of the author.

  The unicorn slowed, and Siegfried found himself on the outskirts of Folkvang, facing two strangers who didn’t quite look human, one with a gold lyre. They introduced themselves as Morrigan and Balder. But Morrigan was the one who interested him. She had a heart-shaped face that seemed familiar but colder. He’d never heard of Morrigan in any of his texts.

  “Do not look at me with such suspicion,” Morrigan commanded, fists resting on her narrow hips. “We have little time. You need to get to the ruins and save Freya. They’ve been herding her there.” She held up a hand when he started to speak. “Yes, I already know your purpose here. You’ll take Freya as you planned and continue to work with the Gaul tribes against Rome. But there will be a few adjustments.”

  “I do not take orders from fey.” Siegfried would not let any of them know he was the least bit intimidated by their magic. They were as likely to misuse their powers as Rome. But perhaps not Morrigan, if she was who he suspected. The familiar features, the careful planning, her cold, logical tone…

  Morrigan continued as
if he hadn’t spoken. “You will not give Freya to Vercingetorix. She will remain in your care. I do not trust Vercingetorix any more than I trust Rome. He’d be king over all the tribes of Gaul. How is that different from what Rome wants? A council of chiefs, I understand. But there is no need for one man to have that much power. What is the difference in the end between a Roman Caesar or a Gallic king, if the people have no say?”

  Her last words convinced him of his supposition. He’d test it by letting on that he knew. “You obviously have the power to rescue her, yet you come to me. You’d let me take her. I am not going to be manipulated, as your kind likes to do. I am not one of the foolish mortals in the tales.”

  “No, you’ll play a very different role, Siegfried. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered with you at all.” Eyes that looked black against her pale cheeks met his. “I see you’ve figured out the truth. I expected no less. But you should remember the texts we sent you and realize why I cannot charge in there and tear those Druids apart with my teeth. It’s best we not attract the attention of Lugh Lamfada. You can get in there and get her out. The rest of us can create enough of a distraction to assist in your escape.”

  Morrigan was Hecate, then, the birth mother of Freya. Siegfried studied her for a long moment. She was powerful, confident, exactly how he imagined her—aside from having similar facial features to the Remi princess. He’d agreed with her cause. But it didn’t mean he trusted her, especially because she was giving her daughter to him when he was a virtual stranger.

  “Balder will go with you. Now that you know what Freya is, you won’t hand her over. You don’t trust Vercingetorix. You don’t trust anyone, especially not with that kind of power.”

  Siegfried grimaced. She’d known his next move. He needed to know hers. But there was no time now.

  ****

  Freya was cornered in the ruins, the stone white in the moonlight, like the scattered bones of some long-dead giant, jutting in a disjointed arrangement from the damp earth. More Druids kept appearing. Where were they all coming from?