‘The Craven senses I am its master. It is testing me, that is all.’ The giant bird bashed Loki’s body with the side of its head, almost knocking him off balance. Something about the beast’s golden eyes made Persephone cringe.
‘Odin is his master,’ Hades said, once again stating the obvious. Oh, Hades. The sky is blue in Midgard, Sepho, did you know? The fire-lake is so hot today. How in the Nine Realms had she ended up trapped here with this simpleton, who was too dense to realise the perils of keeping a delicate flower under a blanket of darkness?
He hadn’t always been like this. When she closed her eyes, she could see him as he was before Loki had tipped him off his throne and sucked all the fire from his belly. She recalled how Hades had risen out of the crack in the earth where she had been picking Narcissus, dressed in shadows and eyes the colour of blood and death and passion and love. One kiss and she -- an innocent maiden – had willingly followed him into his kingdom. Once the vows had been exchanged, the price of his love had become apparent when she ate the pomegranate seeds at the wedding feast.
Loki finally gave up. ‘Get me something to drink!’ he shouted, tossing the jug of wine Hades had provided across the terrace. ‘Not this filth!’ He looked around. ‘Where is my daughter?’
‘Hel? Gone to spin her nets, remember? You ordered her to weave a harness for the Craven?’ Persephone pouted, annoyed at the lack of wine and Loki’s temper. ‘Can’t we name it? It seems awfully silly to call him by what he is, not who he is. It’s like me calling you “god.”’
‘Loki wouldn’t mind that,’ Hades said, earning himself a scowl.
Loki froze. ‘What is that?’ He strode to the edge of the roof. The horns blared. ’It’s coming from the Chambers of Justice. Hades, get here.’
Her husband obliged. Persephone leaned back in her chair and gazed into the distance. The infernal lighting in this place was doing her eyes in. A band of assailants were attempting to mount the outer walls of the Chambers – they had crossed the moat already while Loki had been cajoling the Craven… Perhaps she’d call him Dorian, after Theodore, that handsome Gatekeeper with the lovely hair…
‘I don’t believe it,’ Loki said, ‘those lot haven’t a brain cell between them.’
Persephone smiled as one of the assailants made it over the wall. What awaited him? How many times had she wandered close to that chateau-warren where the unseen spirits pronounced their judgements? There were times – just a few – when she would’ve sworn she had smelled the perfume of fresh flowers teasing her from beyond its boundary.
Loki punched the low wall running along the terrace, sending stone crashing to the ground. He stormed over to the Craven and threw himself on its back, his green eyes blazing with wrath. ‘How dare they? I say when they are discharged from my army.’ Dorian struggled but Loki held his feathers fast and commanded him to fly.
Persephone ducked as the bird scrambled towards the ledge and leaped off the side of the building – toppling Loki back into the fire-lake. She shrieked with laughter. To think Hades’s tormentor had ended up in the Phlegethon again because of the bird carrying the Gatekeeper’s namesake!
‘Blossom, perhaps you shouldn’t laugh at him. He will be angry.’
‘Oh, please, Hades! Grow a new pair of horns, would you?’
Ugh, now he was staring at her with those meek, sad eyes again. ‘Oh fine, if you want to help, alert Hel. She’ll skewer the deserters on the end of her needle.’
‘No need, I have two perfectly good horns that will do the job.’ He stood and stretched out his beautiful, bony wings – the colour of the Craven’s feathers – and took to the sky, waving at the floundering Loki as he flew over his head.
‘Alone at last,’ Persephone said aloud. She usually didn’t like being alone. Her thoughts were like fractals, increasing in complexity the closer she examined them. A sudden pang caused her to jolt – what was that Menelaus up to? She’d enjoyed their dance, his melancholy providing a richness to an otherwise bleak evening of enforced celebration. Poor old Freyja. It didn’t seem five minutes ago they had shared a picnic together, watching the slaughter upon the Trojan fields. Freyja had collected the souls of the fallen warriors with the same care Persephone gave to her beloved flowers…
She felt it like a spider crawling up her neck. She whipped her head round and spotted the figures in the distance, heading for the mountain. More deserters? She peered over the wall and saw that Loki had scrambled out of the bank and was hastening, enraged, to the Chambers of Justice.
I have nothing else to do.
‘Boy, come here!’ She clicked her fingers, and a servant hurried over. ‘Fetch my steed at once.’
‘Yes, M’lady.’
Her horse was waiting for her by the time she left the mansion and crossed the drawbridge. She hitched up her dress and climbed her steed – one of Hades’s creatures, a wedding gift – and rode across the barren landscape, slowing to watch Loki and Hades fighting the stern-faced band of deserters. The odds were tough but the promise was tantalising enough to keep the rebels going. A few lucky souls made it into the Chambers. Loki and Hades were strictly forbidden to enter the chateau itself.
It didn’t take long to catch up with the fleeing figures she’d spotted from the terrace. ‘Halt!’
The figure on the left threw back his hood. Oh, it was him. She loved the gloss of his hair, that strong brow, even the scar on his cheek. Hades once, long ago…
‘Persephone?’
‘Menelaus? What are you doing? And Rosalia? Rosa, you’re leaving me?’
‘You know I would take you if I could,’ her dear little Rosa said. ‘But I cannot break your cycle.’
Persephone wanted to cry. She slid off her horse and approached them. ‘You promised you wouldn’t abandon me! How am I to live without your wild tales and your music and…?’
Rosalia’s slender arms hugged her around the waist. ‘How am I to live? You know the sickness is growing. My soul is waning.’ She pulled away and returned to Menelaus’s side. ‘My brother needs me now. The Nine Realms are at stake, Sepho. Including this one.’
‘Don’t be dramatic,’ Persephone said, that familiar panic churning in her gut. ‘Loki won’t destroy his own throne!’
‘Won’t he? You saw how he danced tonight, how he welcomed the first tremor through Yggdrasil! He wants Ragnarök.’ Rosalia gestured to the mountain, the verdant strip near the summit providing a glimpse of the Midgardian bounty above them. ‘Loki will crush your flowers underfoot, he will let the Midgard Serpent and the Gatekeeper rip each other apart. And who will be waiting to step into the void?’
‘It should be Hades,’ Persephone huffed.
‘It won’t be. Let us stop this senseless war.’
‘You mean to escape through Hvergelmir’s waters? You’ll be burned alive.’
Menelaus spoke. She’d almost forgotten he was there. ’No, we won’t,’ he said. ‘Rosalia, show her what you found in Loki’s chambers.’
Rosalia undid the satchel she had been carrying at her side. Persephone’s fingers flew to her face as Rosalia pulled back the flap, revealing the bright, fossilised heart inside. ‘Loki once told me only the pure of heart can travel through Hvergelmir. I found this stuffed in a drawer – I’ve never seen it before. Suddenly the riddle made sense. This is how he moves freely between the realms, unaffected by the water Angrboda poisoned.’
‘Because this is her heart,’ Persephone whispered. She’d never met the old witch herself. Hades had told her the marriage between Angrboda and Loki had ended with the god eating his wife’s heart. Apparently, he had actually preserved it instead.
‘At least, it was how he travelled through the Well,’ Rosalia continued, ‘which is why we’ve never seen it before. It was too valuable to leave laying around. Until Theo’s magic rendered it useless to him.’
‘But not to us – we’re hoping,’ Menelaus said.
Persephone wanted to cry. ‘I can’t believe that you’re going back
to Midgard, and I am stuck here forever.’
‘We’re not going up,’ Menelaus said. ‘We’re going across.’
‘Sepho, please, we must go now.’
‘I will release you,’ she said, a seed of hope growing within her own heart, ‘as long as you swear you’ll find a way to free me too.’
Rosalia swung the satchel containing Angrboda’s heart over her shoulder and kissed Persephone on both cheeks. ‘Thank you for shielding me from Loki’s rage,’ she said, ‘I know how much it cost you. Once our mission is completed, I swear I’ll repay your kindness and break your curse.’
Menelaus kissed the back of her hand and gazed into her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ he said. They turned, ready to leave her.
They’ll never make it to Hvergelmir before Loki realises. ‘Wait!’ She tugged her steed’s reins. ’Take him,’ she said, ‘and ride hard. You won’t get a second chance.’
And this is how one comes to lose an old friend, a daughter, and a treasured steed in a single day in Hel.
Tomorrow would be worse.
20
A Confluence of Enemies
Ava waded out of the river, her sodden dress clinging to every delectable curve. I burned with longing, a need I hadn’t felt since Father had died. Tears prickled, the emotions churning beneath like the confluence of water where the three rivers of the Isles met. Although I’d known Ava my whole life, the currents of our destiny had swept us apart, and this grown-up love was still so new.
I should be relishing her, making her smile and keeping her safe. Instead, I’d dragged her into a fight for the Nine Realms. Instead, I was too busy grieving for my father and itinerant uncle to allow myself to enjoy our reunion. I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was failing her on some fundamental level.
And the thought of losing her love was worse than the many disasters that had already occurred.
‘It’s cold in there,’ Ava said, shivering. I undid my cloak and threw it around her shoulders, kissing her on the cheek for good measure. She looked up, faintly surprised. ‘At the confluence…it’s like I can feel the Underworld creeping up to meet me.’
‘Did it work?’ Aurelia asked.
‘Yes,’ Ava said, ‘I gave Menelaus the message. I can’t say for sure whether he can act on it though. I’ll try to reach him again soon.’
‘Will you tell me what the second part of your plan is?’ I asked Aurelia, who had so far refused to divulge her strategy to anyone but Ava so she could relay the message to Menelaus.
‘We’re in the correct place to demonstrate.’ She spread her wings and flew above the river. She waved to Freyr, who was standing with Lorenzo – albeit a good arm’s length apart – on the nearby bridge, created from two trees trained together.
‘Gatekeeper, you face three equally dangerous threats.’ A bolt shot from her palm, smashing into the surface of the first river, lighting it orange. ‘The Midgard Serpent merged with Akhenaten in a way we don’t understand. He is your primary enemy and a knowledgeable one. I have no doubt he intends to exploit the prophecy of Ragnarök to his own advantage.’
‘I agree.’ I had to shout – my voice didn’t project like hers did.
‘He used the Orlog’s fire to slaughter Freyja. A blade like that can only come from one source – Surt, father and king to the fire giants. Only the fire giants make such weapons. It stands to reason that Akhen intends to use that most potent expression of Aten’s destructive power to slay the Gatekeeper.’
Lorenzo shook his fist in the air. ‘Booooo!’
Aurelia rolled her eyes. Raphael would’ve giggled at Lorenzo’s jeer, but Freyr seemed more stoic, leaning over the bridge with his hand cupping his chin. Despite his transformation, he outshone the Romantic painters’ most desirable muses.
‘According to legend,’ Aurelia continued, ‘the only weapon that can withstand the heat of Surt’s sword is—’
‘Istapp – my sword,’ said Freyr. ’The one I lost to that frozen-hearted Jotun, Utgard-Loki.’
Lorenzo balked. ‘I can’t imagine you wielding a sword.’
Freyr shrugged. ‘I didn’t. It fought for me. I never had to touch the thing. It was too cold to hold anyway.’
Aurelia lit up the second river with another bolt. This time the water glowed red.
‘The fire giants hate the Asgardians as much as Akhenaten does. If Menelaus succeeds in stealing the sword before Akhen, Surt – your second opponent – will come after you all. Theo, you must be ready to fight them both -- even without Surt’s sword, they can still start a devastating war.’
‘Wonderful!’ I scooped Ava’s hair from her neck, pretending not to be terrified at the prospect of facing down the Midgard Serpent and a fire giant at the same time. I yearned for a few days of peace, a chance to give Ava every little part of me before I had to prevent The End of All Things. ‘And how do I defeat them again?’
‘You must travel to Jotunheim, land of the ice giants, and convince Utgard-Loki to return Freyr’s sword, the only weapon in the Nine Realms capable of withstanding Surt’s blade, Brann, and Aten’s fire. It’s also the only sword strong enough to contain Theo’s magic in the required intensity to kill the first two foes.’
Which left enemy number three.
‘Assuming we all survive that, and Theo defeats both Surt and Akhen,’ Aurelia continued, sending out the final bolt to the third river, which promptly turned green, ‘Loki will be so enraged by your success – and your banishment of him – that he is likely to take a shot at you himself.’
‘It keeps getting better, doesn’t it?’ I flinched at the fear written into Ava’s frowns. Loving her was a weakness, one any of my enemies could exploit, but somehow, I knew that little splinter she’d placed in my heart kept me from collapsing under the pressure. ‘How do we know Akhen doesn’t already have Brann?’
‘He’ll have it soon,’ Ava said. ‘Frigg has shown me.’ She pointed to the spot between her eyebrows. ‘I didn’t understand it at first, but…Aurelia is right.’
‘If I believe anyone in this crazy mess,’ I said, ‘it’s you. Ava, are you sending me to Jotunheim?’
‘I see the world turning into flame,’ she said, pulling my cloak tighter around her. ‘I see darkness, and red rain. I see crops failing and people screaming.’ She paused. I held my breath. ‘And I also see you, Theo, bearing a sword with the power of Ormdreper, but larger and ice cold. I see you walking through the flames, untouched by them. And it’s the only vision that gives me hope.’
I pulled her close, and behind her, the three coloured channels swirled together into the iris of the river. ‘It’s settled then,’ I said. ‘I go to Jotunheim.’
21
Starlight
Ava woke from her first peaceful sleep in weeks. The silken-soft sheets had wound themselves around her and Theo’s naked limbs but she didn’t mind. Theo pulled her into his chest, sensing her shifting though he was still asleep. Ava watched him, following the twitches that ran across his face, down his arms and back – the magic inside of him liked to be noticed.
She tucked back the curls falling in front of his forehead. Time seemed to unwind as he slept, transporting her back to their childhood, when they had loved each other as children love, when she had slumbered top-to-tail with him in his four-poster bed. He had been a restless sleeper then too.
How many times had Theo conjured the illusion of starlight to comfort her when the darkness of the bedroom seemed threatening? All those little acts of kindness she’d forgotten because of Espen’s magical amnesia pill.
So how had the kind little boy become the man who threw the Consul off the tallest turret in the Fae Isles? Theo didn’t tell her the outcome; her inner vision showed her the gory result. She expected to feel horrified. Sick to the core.
Instead, she felt relieved.
Because she’d also witnessed the acts of violence the Consul committed in Aten’s name. While Theo had attended to Freyja with Lorenzo and Raphael on the tower, Ava had confided
in Aurelia about her ever-broadening visions. They inundated her from all angles – past, present, and future, events spanning the Nine Realms.
And the fact was, despite how she liked to think herself above hatred, if anyone hurt her mother or Grace, if anyone caused her to suffer like Akhen and his followers had subjected the Clemensens and the Pneuma community to…
I would’ve thrown him off myself.
Of course, she’d expected Lorenzo’s arrow to do the job. Her chance to stop the Consul’s death, and she chose not to take it.
It’s time to make the decision. The seed of doubt Akhen sowed inside her during their meeting of minds had sprouted. What was Theo capable of doing? When they’d met again as adults, he’d been ready to kill Menelaus to avenge his mother, chosen to lead a coven of witches aligned with vampires and Hel herself, and had raised an army of the dead, albeit for good reasons. The woman he’d pledged his loyalty to was currently trapped in a magical mirror. Now the Consul’s corpse was somewhere in the Alfheim sea. Theo, when it came down to it, was every inch the heathen, and he wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.
Ava knew about the ring: a silver-and-emerald tree that curled round the finger – the one Isobel had worn in those first dreams, begging Ava to locate the amulet.
Since that day in the library when Espen’s Last Will and Testament had arrived on his desk, Theo had carried it around in the lining of his cloak. It was as if he forgot her psychic abilities included him too.
Should I leave him?
Do I want to? Her chest tightened and she swallowed back the pain imbued in those thoughts.
Theo stirred, a yawn and a stretch, and then those opal eyes locked into hers, then that grin lit her from the centre of her body. Her cheeks flushed, her soul waking from its own slumber to drown out her careful logic. Maybe Theo carried the world’s magic inside him, but he didn’t just share his Vital Essence with the Gatekeeper.
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