by Ann Gimpel
Aislinn chanted softly, taking care to deploy each step of the complicated casting. When the walls of her prison shimmered into nothingness, she held herself ready, every muscle tense as a drawn bowstring. For long moments, she looked out at darkness, but she was used to the void that was part of this spell. Time shifted; she felt it in the pit of her stomach. Light flickered and she watched herself being dragged between Majestron and her minion. The dark goddess had her arms, and the man her feet. Rune padded next to her.
“Why didn’t you kill the dog?” the man asked.
“He’s a wolf, and has magic of his own,” Majestron replied. “Shut up. You don’t ask the questions around here.”
Aislinn turned to Rune’s spectral projection and nodded, hoping he’d understand she meant they had to move now. She waited until Rune merged with his earlier self to launch herself into her comatose form. As soon as her astral and physical selves collided, she wrenched herself out of the hands that held her and ran for the white-barked aspen tree. Thick foliage covered her almost immediately and she tried her damnedest to be quiet, but twigs crackled and broke beneath her feet. She heard Rune ahead of her and let herself hope they might make it past this first gauntlet.
How much longer would they have? She held her breath, listening, and dove into the hole Rune had predicted would be beneath the tree. Slithering on her belly, she worked her way underground, following Rune’s tail. In short order, the hole widened enough for her to crawl. While she hunted for a place to wait out the storm that was sure to blow over their heads, she called invisibility with her Mage gift and draped it over herself and her wolf. He curled into a tight ball and she sat next to him. Muted light from the hole filtered into their shelter. Aislinn hated to do it, but she deployed a short blast of power to seal their hiding place. Dirt filled the hole, cutting off the light and filling the air with dust and bits of grit and stone. She’d have to undo her work later—if there was a later.
A fury-filled shout sounded, followed by another.
Aislinn hunkered in the shelter Rune had led them to with her back against one damp wall. A grim smile split her face. They’d made it this far, by God. If they weren’t discovered, she’d teleport them out of here as soon as her power recovered enough.
Doing the best she could to fine-tune the spell that hid them, Aislinn prayed to every deity she could think of to rain plagues down on Majestron Zalia so she’d leave them alone.
Chapter Eighteen
Fionn followed Nidhogg’s instructions to the letter and mixed power into their teleport spell as the dragon guided them to Asgard. It had taken far longer than the half hour he’d allocated to finish off the demons and their minions. He was filthy, his battle leathers singed and torn, and he stank, but he hadn’t wanted to waste any more time cleaning up or changing. Bella had been shaken enough by the proximity of demons, she hadn’t wanted to come with him, so he’d left her cleaning her feathers on one of the manor house balconies.
The golden walls of Valhalla formed before him, followed by the impeccably clean cobblestone streets of Asgard. As would befit a picture-perfect movie set, well-groomed Norsemen and women hurried in various directions, everyone brimming with purpose. Until they saw him and Nidhogg. Then they scuttled away, and the street cleared in record time. Fionn gazed about. The times he’d met with Odin had always been on Celtic territory, so this was his first view of the Norse stronghold. “Is it always this pristine?” he asked Nidhogg.
The dragon didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he trumpeted long and loud. Fionn took a few steps away and inspected the black dragon. Nidhogg looked as ragged as Fionn with scraps of demon flesh impaled on his scales and splashes of blood and ichor decorating his hide like a psychedelic painting gone bad.
Odin burst through Valhalla’s golden door and marched down its wide, golden steps. The Norse god always looked the same. Tall and burly, dressed in battle armor, with twin brass drinking horns crisscrossing over his broad chest. Blond braids fell down his chest, and a full red-blond beard spilled down until it tangled in the leather thongs holding the drinking horns in place. His sharp, blue-eyed gaze swept from Fionn to Nidhogg.
“I take it this isn’t a pleasure call,” he said and switched his attention to Nidhogg. “Let’s see. This is visit number three after centuries of nothingness. What do you want this time?”
Nidhogg planted his powerful rear legs more firmly on the cobblestones, and his green eyes spun faster. “I am the Norse dragon, and worthy of respect, but we’re short on time just now, so I’ll overlook your lack of manners. I brought Fionn MacCumhaill, Celtic god of wisdom, creation, and divination, because he needs your help.”
Fionn bowed, sweeping a hand to one side. Odin rolled his eyes and muttered, “I remember you well enough. You’re an arrogant whelp. Times must be dire indeed for you to seek me out. What could you possibly need from me?”
Fionn bit back a sharp retort. Throwing gasoline on a fire was never wise. He slanted his gaze at the Norse leader and said, “Other than your help when we storm the dark gods’ borderworlds, I seek information.”
“What kind of information?”
Odin narrowed his gaze, and Fionn recalled the Norse deity was an inveterate bargainer.
“Where did the dark gods live afore ye imprisoned them?”
“Humph. Simple enough.” Odin smiled with all the warmth of a cobra and rubbed his hands together. “What’s it worth to you?”
Flame shot from Nidhogg’s mouth, landing just shy of Odin’s leather boot tops. “Answer him,” the dragon thundered, “or the next blast will take out your beard.”
“What?” Odin smirked. “No breaking bread? No sharing a cask of beer or mead?”
“Those dark bastards stole my woman,” Fionn broke in. “We’re fresh from battling demons, and time grows short.”
“You’ve been to Hell?” Odin broke in, leaning forward. “Now there’s a tale worth the telling. And well worth the information you seek.”
Fionn flexed his hands into fists, and exhaled sharply. “There isna time for this. I promise you a full explanation once I get Aislinn back.”
“Odin.” Nidhogg’s voice held compulsion.
The Norse god’s features softened, shifted, almost as if he’d been hypnotized. Fascination filled Fionn. He’d never realized the extent of Nidhogg’s power and suspected it extended far beyond whatever he was doing now.
“Yes, of course,” Odin murmured. “The dark ones built several fortresses in the Americas to avoid us harassing them, like we’d have done if they set up shop in the Old Country. You do realize this was long before the American continents were developed.”
“How many fortresses and where?” Fionn cut in.
“Three. One was in the American northwest, maybe ten leagues east from Seattle’s current location. Another was near Mexico City, and the third lay in the Tierra del Fuego.”
“Any idea if they’re still standing?” Nidhogg asked.
Odin grinned broadly. “You always were one for coming up with defining questions. The Mexico City one was wiped out by an earthquake. The one in the Tierra del Fuego got avalanched into nothingness.” He rubbed his hands together. “Best I know, the one in the northwest of what used to be the U.S. still stands.”
Nidhogg averted his gaze, and Odin shook himself. He glared at the dragon. “I did not appreciate that.”
“You didn’t give me much choice. We’ll be on our way.”
“Thank you,” Fionn said.
“You owe me a tale, Celt.”
“Aye, and I’ll make good on it, but not just now.”
Nidhogg was already pulling power and magic sizzled around him, electric to the touch. The fine hairs on the back of Fionn’s head stood at attention and he closed the few feet between him and Nidhogg.
“Ye doona have to go with me—” he began.
“Nay. We’ll see this thing through.”
“I want to come.” Thor catapulted down Valhalla’s steps, battle a
xe in hand. He looked so much like Odin, they could have been brothers. The only difference was more of a red cast to Thor’s hair—and the lack of drinking horns around his neck.
“Grand idea,” Odin seconded and crossed his arms over the drinking horns. “We’ll both accompany you.”
Fionn hesitated, feeling torn. While it might prove handy to have more firepower, there’d be no hope of stealth. He looked up at Nidhogg. “What do ye think?”
Smoke steamed from the dragon’s open mouth, and a deep, booming laugh shook the ground. “Brilliant. I’d love to have Thor and Odin fighting by my side again. After all, I am the Norse dragon.”
“Our first concern is Aislinn’s safety,” Fionn cautioned, finding it difficult to latch onto Nidhogg’s enthusiasm.
Thor clapped him on the back so hard it was a struggle to maintain his balance. “Celts!” he sputtered. “What a bunch of pussies you always were.”
“Really?” Anger flared red hot, and Fionn felt like he was back on the battlefield outside his house. He reached for magic, intent on wiping the smirk off Thor’s Nordic features.
“Enough,” Nidhogg roared. “We leave now.”
Before Fionn could lodge a protest, the world whirled and dropped away to nothingness. He pulled his ragged emotions into some sort of order. Pounding Thor into the dirt wouldn’t help them find Aislinn, and it would piss Odin off. Time dribbled by. Even with teleporting, it took a while to cover the longer distances, and the journey gave him time to think. Odin and Thor would never agree to follow his orders, but they might follow Nidhogg’s.
He reached for the dragon’s mind and, surprisingly, found it still open to him. “What happens once we get there?”
“We use magic to locate them and do whatever we have to in order to free Aislinn and Rune.”
Fionn swallowed hard. “Do ye believe they’re still alive?”
“Probably.”
“Say more.”
“This is conjecture on my part, but we did a fair job foiling the plan to loose Hell’s minions—once we fell headlong into it.”
“The plan being tricking us into opening a portal into Hell?”
“Exactly. Once whoever was orchestrating things realized we were onto them, and were about to shut the gateway, they scrambled to salvage something. There’d have been no point in bothering with hostages, if they just meant to kill them.”
Understanding rose, dragging hope along with it and Fionn said, “Makes sense. If whoever took Aislinn and Rune was close enough to kidnap them, they could just as easily have killed them.”
“Now that I’ve had a chance to think things through, it’s the same conclusion I came to,” Nidhogg agreed. “I realize I said she might already be dead earlier, but once the words were spoken, they didn’t ring true.”
Fionn didn’t bother mentioning they’d certainly rung true for him, but that was because he was incapable of rational thought when it came to Aislinn. So long as Nidhogg appeared inclined toward conversation, Fionn tackled tricky ground. “Once we get there, will ye take on leadership of the group?”
Dragon laughter nearly deafened Fionn and he shook his head to stop the ringing in his ears.
“Never fear,” the dragon said once he stopped hooting with mirth. “I’ll never tell anyone that you offered me ascendency on the battlefield.” He paused for a beat. “If the unspoken question is whether I can encourage Thor and Odin to be assets, I believe I can. You’ve fought alongside them. For all their stubbornness, they’re skilled fighters, and damn near fearless.”
The gray of the teleport tunnel lightened around its edges indicating they were nearing whatever destination the dragon had selected. Moments later, a portal formed and Fionn walked through into thick, wet greenery. He brushed his hands over a dripping bush and wiped them across his face, probably smearing the hell out of the grime coating him, but it felt refreshing.
Thor and Odin trotted out of the same portal, followed by Nidhogg who spewed fire at the gateway and blasted it into oblivion.
Fionn smothered a wry grin. He chanted to close portals, but fire was much faster.
Odin lifted his head, scenting the air. “Gods, but it’s good to be outside Asgard.”
“We should leave more often.” Thor slapped his father on the back, tilted a drinking horn from around his father’s neck, and drank.
“None of that.” Odin dragged the horn out of his son’s grasp. “You can drink once this is over.”
Fionn wisely remained silent, but he was relieved beyond measure that someone was riding herd on Thor’s legendary alcoholism. “Do ye know where the old one’s fortress is?” he asked Nidhogg.
The dragon’s nostrils flared. “That way.” He jerked his head to the right. “And not very far.”
Thor and Odin started in the direction Nidhogg indicated, but the dragon called, “Hold up a moment. You can’t go marching in there as if you’ve got the rest of your warriors at your beck and call, or the Valkyries ready to ride to your defense.”
Odin turned to face the dragon. “Humph. Good point. I’m open to your thoughts.”
Fionn set his jaw in a hard line. Clearly Odin was used to command, just as Fionn was. He turned his attention to Nidhogg and hoped to hell the dragon’s plan would be something he agreed with. He had a feeling Odin would fight anyone who disagreed with his dragon.
“First,” Nidhogg focused on Fionn, “do you sense Aislinn?”
Fionn narrowed his eyes and sent tentative magic spiraling outward, doing his damnedest to mask it from their enemy. So far, they held the element of surprise, but that could evaporate in a hot second. Because he expected to latch onto Aislinn’s energy, and didn’t find it, shock rattled him, followed by disappointment.
“I guess I was wrong,” he muttered. “She isna here.”
“Just because you can’t feel her doesn’t necessarily mean she’s not here,” Nidhogg said. “She might have escaped and is shielding herself.”
“Nay. If she escaped, she’d have left.”
“Maybe. If she still had enough magic. Or her captors could have her stashed behind wards.” Nidhogg blew steam, and it made the damp air even soggier.
Odin moved to Fionn’s side. “Your woman has magic? Fascinating. What kind?”
“Human magic, but all five skills.”
Thor joined his father. “That’s impossible,” he said flatly. “Humans don’t possess magic.”
“They dinna,” Fionn said, “until the dark gods stormed Earth. I’m not certain how it happened, but when the Lemurians weakened the veils between Earth and the borderworlds, they opened the possibility for human magic to sift through. Some weren’t sensitive to it, and the Lemurians slaughtered them. Of those who remain, most humans have two gifts, one primary and one weaker. Aislinn has them all.”
“What are these gifts?” Thor asked.
“We doona have the time—” Fionn began, but Nidhogg shook his head.
“We’ll take the time,” the dragon said. “Thor and Odin must know what Aislinn can do, in case they’re the ones who find her.”
Fionn counted off on his fingers. “One is Mage magic. It confers ease with casting spells. Two is Seeker magic. It ferrets out truth. Three is Hunter magic. Hunters bond with animals and working as a pair, they fight evil. Four is Healer magic, which is self-explanatory, and five is Seer magic.” He paused to take a breath. “Aislinn is the only human I’ve ever known with Seer abilities. She isna verra proficient, but she can travel backward in time to alter outcomes.”
“Can she read the future?” Odin asked.
“’Tis part of the gift, but I dinna have a chance yet to teach it to her,” Fionn replied.
Thor grinned knowingly. “Sounds like quite a woman. Are you wed?”
“What difference does it make?”
Thor shrugged, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. “I don’t cuckold married men, otherwise, she’s fair game.”
“The hell she is.” Fionn grabbed Thor’s arm and
spun him so they faced one another.
“Let’s focus on seeing if she’s even here,” Nidhogg broke in, sounding beleaguered. “One more thing. She has a wolf bondmate named Rune. Like all bond animals, he talks—and has a mind of his own.”
Thor wrenched out of Fionn’s grasp, still grinning like a gargoyle.
“Why don’t I sense any people nearby?” Odin asked.
“Because the Lemurians killed millions these past three years,” Fionn said. “Tens of millions, actually. Ye really should leave that stronghold of yours more often.”
“Grand idea, Celt.” Odin slugged him in the shoulder, and turned to Nidhogg. “What’s this plan of yours?”
The dragon slanted an appraising look his way. “Maybe you’re gaining wisdom. There are two possibilities. Either Aislinn is here hiding, or we guessed wrong, and she’s not here at all. If she’s sequestered herself somewhere, she’s likely buried herself in as strong an invisibility spell as she could muster. Or worse, she’s hidden behind warding not of her own making.”
While Fionn listened to the dragon, he asked his magic a different question and cast a wide net. “At least one dark god is here,” he muttered.
“I’d come to much the same conclusion,” Nidhogg said. “If a dark one is all the way out here, it’s a good bet Aislinn’s here too. The fortress is a short distance to the northeast of us. We need information, so I propose we corral whoever we can find and encourage them to talk.”
“That willna work well if it’s a dark god,” Fionn said.
“I have my ways,” Nidhogg said smugly. “Plus I have the best backup in the world.” Fire belched from his mouth, but the soggy greenery just smoldered. “I’m hoping for Perrikus or D’Chel. I’d love to dish out a hundredth of the misery they foisted onto me.”
“Another tale I’d love to hear,” Odin chimed in, looking hopeful.
“Later,” Nidhogg said. “Frankly, I don’t see the point wasting magic on stealth. They’ll know we’re here the moment we poke our heads into their territory.”