Norns of Fate: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (Descendants of Thor Trilogy Book Two)

by S. A. Ashdown

  At least, that’s what he told me.

  Menelaus stopped by twice, cloaked, because he suspected his movements were being watched. ‘Praetor Cullen has lictors following him everywhere, and bravos lurking behind.’ He told us over a glass of wine, looking very strangely at his father’s glass of blood. ‘‘He will be presiding over your trial; I managed to find out that much. Everywhere is on lockdown. Names are randomly called out and people disappear for questioning underground. No one knows why. Except me, of course. They’re pissed about the prisoners.’

  I couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

  ‘How are they?’ he asked, taking a seat by the unlit fireplace. The summer had arrived at last, and I sat opposite him in nothing but shorts.

  ‘I’ll check in tomorrow. I have to see Father anyway, and this is no time to forget to pay homage to the gods. I hope it’s a good omen that the solstice is the day before my trial starts.’

  ‘I want to come,’ he said. ‘The more prayers the better.’

  ‘I’m sure Father would be happy to sacrifice you,’ I said, and although the jibe wounded him, he smiled.

  36

  Wrath of the Returned

  I strode up the temple steps, Ava on my right, Menelaus at my left shoulder. Fenrir waited under the columns, panting from his sprint across the heathland. The great door was already open, and the sounds of blades clashing poured out.

  I ran inside, heart thumping, unable to process what I saw. The secret door to the armoury was drawn back, the weapons stashed in that semi-circular room bared for the world to see. ‘What the—’

  ‘No profanity in front of the gods,’ said Father, approaching in his emerald cloak from the dais where the statues of Odin, Thor, and Freyr glinted. His sword hilt poked out from the fabric.

  I didn’t recognise the people fighting, at first, fury burning in their eyes as they pursued each other across the marble floor. Then I picked out Toby, twirling a set of sticks with vicious-looking barbs on the end. One by one, the prisoners’ identities slotted into place. ‘You’re training them,’ I whispered, as Fenrir, thinking it all a grand game, chased their feet, tail wagging.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. He stuck out his hand toward Ava. She glanced at me, then at Father, and shook it like it might electrocute her. ‘You’re still alive. That’s encouraging,’ he said, before turning to Menelaus. He gave him a curt nod and spun on his heel.

  ‘Come on,’ I sighed, leading them toward the altar.

  Espen watched the trio approach, ready for the midday ceremony. Fenrir circled him three times before shooting across the floor and barking at Rush, the ragged prophet who held a bow and arrow in his hand – one of Nikolaj’s treasured possessions.

  He couldn’t help but smirk; Theo was explaining the statues to Menelaus and Ava, blithely innocent to the fact that his uncle was in the temple with them, albeit on four legs, now with an arrow clenched between his jaws. The silly Elf was enjoying the Fae-given gift to imitate animals a little too much. He’d missed Nik’s advice and support over the last couple of weeks, but it gave him peace of mind knowing he was watching over Theo.

  Theo, my son. How beautiful he’d become, his movements easy as if his limbs were always engaged in happy conversation with each other, affable smile and golden hair to rival Sif herself. The sunlight flooded the temple in colour, catching the opal glitter in Theo’s eyes. I was that young and powerful once. Isobel had looked at him as Ava looked at Theo, her own laughter an echo to his, each small expression responding to him. Love, lust, and it had all come to dust.

  He approached Theo, ignoring Menelaus. Difficult, when the young man was built like a giant of old. He fought it, the acid sting of Elspeth’s memory, her carelessness, which had led to the damphir’s birth and Isobel’s downfall sixteen years later. His nephew by marriage looked at him, hands clasped, hazel eyes a shade from hopeful.

  Espen cringed under the mask he presented. Theodore, how do you forgive so easily? No, you expect to lose your parents someday, but not your wife, not so young. You wouldn’t forgive if it had been Ava. Alas, he sounded irrational even to himself. An argument he was failing to keep a hold on, so he clung harder instead of letting go.

  ‘I presume, Theodore, you stole the hlautbolli?’ Espen pointed to the altar.

  ‘It’s my inheritance,’ Theo said.

  ‘I’m not dead yet.’ Espen held out his hand, noting that Theo flinched at the remark. ‘I also presume you wouldn’t proceed without it?’

  Theo stared at him. ‘Of course. Am I leading?’ He reached under his cloak, a few sparks shooting up his hand, before pulling out the ritual bowl and placing it with care on the altar. Perhaps it was time to loosen the reins.

  ‘The gods will listen to you. I’m a dried-up old husk to them now.’ He’d intended to invest some humour into that but it came out flat. Theo tensed, then sighed.

  ‘I’ll hold the knife, if you like?’ He glanced at Menelaus.

  Theo intercepted his hand. ‘Err, no. I think I should control the bloodletting.’

  ‘Seeress!’ It was Rush, the prophet, the one Menelaus had witnessed being tortured. He covered the floor in great strides – that was how he’d earned his nickname – wearing a brown leather jacket Espen had lent him.

  Theo blocked Rush’s path. ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.

  ‘The girl behind you. Move aside.’ Politeness tinged with defiance. He couldn’t help but admire that. Ava wriggled under Theo’s outstretched arm and pinned it back by his waist.

  ‘Theo, relax.’ She smacked the hand that came to rest on her shoulder. ‘He’s passed Espen’s security clearance, right?’

  Was the girl making a joke about his paranoia? ‘Rush is fine,’ Espen said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Frigg has branded you, child. It shouldn’t happen to one so young. Foresight should be the curse of the old.’

  ‘You’re not old.’ Ava smiled.

  Rush patted her hand, cautious of Theo’s proximity. ‘I don’t appear old, child.’

  ‘Tell me…’ Ava pulled in her blue cardigan and shuddered. ‘Do you see what I see?’

  Rush bowed his head. ‘I do, child,’ he said, ‘and I fear I have aided my torturers in bringing it to pass.’ A stray tear slipped down his cheek. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, and left.

  ‘It’s time to start,’ Espen said. Theo nodded, his expression grave, as Espen called for his fighters to halt and retrieve the offerings they had prepared from the vestibule. He’d named his small militia ‘the Returned’, and they seemed to like it. As the sun reached its zenith, he would petition Thor and Tyr to aid them in pouring their wrath into the walls of the Praetoriani. The day he yearned for, for so many years! He could taste its air on his tongue.

  The excitement rose in him, a thrill as Theo placed the gifts on the altar and kneeled before it, beckoning for the crowd now gathered behind him to do the same. Where blades had clashed and blunted arrows whistled through the air, there was silence. The Clemensen heraldic symbols glistened in the dome above them, the Sarrow fractal pattern and the Braec’s stag controlling their share of the light.

  Love, lust, it did not come to dust, Isobel. We made him. He is enough. It sounded sublime to listen to his son chanting in his family’s old tongue, the Norse petitions rolling out of Theo’s chest, a precursor to the lightning strike of his will.

  That boy was stubborn, as he himself had been, before he’d held his infant son in his arms for the first time. The baby’s blue eyes had drawn him in, a siren for his very soul, and since that moment, love and terror had churned close together like the black-and-white rivers of the Amazon.

  When Theo swirled around, green cloak whirling with him, the coloured glass lit up the air behind his head like a halo. Espen blinked, half believing the Thor from the painting on the back wall had taken his son’s place, but when Theo smiled down at the kneeling army, he remembered this was no god – the lad was made of Jörð herself, his core as warm and fiery as h
ers. He was the earth, the thing that gave it life. Járner Jörð Líf.

  Theo held out the hlautbolli in one hand and the ceremonial knife in the other. ‘This is the part where I ask a little favour.’

  Espen gave blood first, Ava after that. Menelaus looked green as he gazed at the contents of the bowl, but contributed without so much as a grimace. One by one, veins opened and blood dripped into the ancient vessel. Theo scattered it over the statues and the gathering, an ancient rite to bind a tribe together. Pride bloomed in Espen’s chest as his son managed to stammer out the Elvish blessing Nikolaj usually delivered; languages had never been Theo’s forte, despite his best efforts to teach him.

  Fenrir scampered around the statues and howled.

  ‘Nik should be here,’ Theo said, stepping back.

  ‘He is, in spirit.’ Espen tried not to laugh. At least the boy missed his uncle. Maybe I should have made him miss me. He turned his head away, facing the tapestried wall to his left, ashamed. He didn’t have the luxury of wallowing. Love wasn’t always neat and tidy. Loving someone was about doing the dirty work so they didn’t have to.

  My Elvish is awful, I thought. On the plus side, nobody but Father and I knew. I tried to gauge his reaction as I finished, leading a prayer, but he kept his head bowed throughout. Ava’s cheek rubbed against my shoulder and she unclasped her hand from mine, leaning her little finger toward my neck, twirling the curls that rested there around it.

  Luckily, the time for seriousness was over. ‘Now we feast!’

  The ex-prisoners, obviously still malnourished, cheered. ‘Father, please tell me there’s still ale stored in the Undercrofts?’

  ‘And in the attic, and in the pantry, and in the garage.’

  ‘I thought warlocks weren’t supposed to drink much?’ Menelaus stretched; Italian marble is not renowned for its knee-cushioning properties.

  ‘There are no such rules on feasting days,’ Father said, narrowing his eyes. ‘Your pupils are very dilated, Guardian.’

  Menelaus’s hand flew to his face. ‘The blood,’ he whispered, staring at the altar. The shock seemed to slide off his face, leaving him expressionless.

  Just like Lorenzo was, before the hunt.

  ‘Come on, Laus,’ I said, tugging him away by the arm. ‘I don’t think Freyr will appreciate you licking the blood off his erect phallus.’

  His eyes widened and Ava giggled into my arm. ‘It’s pretty hard to miss, isn’t it?’ Menelaus coughed and played with the ends of his hair, which he’d pinned up on the back of his head. He glanced back at the statues and despite himself, licked his lips.

  I almost died laughing.

  We feasted in the temple, carting heavy tables and chairs from a storage compartment in the vestibule. Father and I located cups and goblets – and the ritual drinking horn – and we summoned the rest, piling the table high with food. I missed Uncle’s cooking more than ever but it was his fault he hadn’t showed up, and Father didn’t appear concerned. We filled the horn with mead and toasted in a round, starting from Father, who was the host, ending with Toby and Jenny, who stood up together.

  Then I stood again. ‘And as Uncle Nikolaj is indisposed, I shall give the final blessing in his place. Whatever happens to us in the next few days, may the light of the Nine Realms go with us all!’

  ‘Skol!’ Everyone cheered.

  The ale supplies dwindled quicker than I anticipated, but Father played the perfect host. He rubbed my shoulder as he passed me, topping up drinks.

  I should be with the coven, I thought. I’d promised to lead another ceremony after sundown with Penny, but I was glad to be at home, away from vampires and dark spells. Lorenzo refused to leave Raphael, and I couldn’t blame him. Besides, Raphael offered delicacies far beyond human nourishment. Roast meat, fish, and vegetables couldn’t compare with blood made from stardust, I guess.

  We left the party sometime after the sun’s evening rays fell across the water, stumbling over the heathland. Menelaus was the only sober one out of the three of us as he was the designated driver. ‘If either of you puke in my car,’ he began, but Ava and I waved him away, clambering into the back seats.

  ‘I haven’t drunk so much in years.’ Ava laughed. ‘Not since Grace and I went to Vienna.’

  ‘You went to Vienna?’

  ‘Not everyone spends their teens walled up in a mansion.’

  ‘Jörð, when the trial’s over, we’re going on a school trip. I think I missed out a few.’

  Menelaus steers his 4x4, I learned, like he is actually traversing a mountain. I hung my head out of the window and gulped in some air. I clutched my stomach and burped. ‘Jörð, why didn’t you stop me from eating an entire berry pie by myself?’

  ‘I tried!’ Ava protested, clamping her hand over her mouth. ‘You looked like you’d bleed me out over the altar if I dared take it from you.’

  ‘Don’t talk about blood!’ Menelaus growled from the front.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘Ava, let’s go to Paris, Oslo, you can meet my grandmother Elsa, or we could visit the Highlands, or Bruges? Florence?’

  She squeezed my hand. ‘Let’s hope those cities aren’t in flames by next week,’ she said. ‘Okay?’

  It dawned on me, at last. Tonight, I would dance to the sinking of the sun, tonight I would sleep with Ava in my arms, and tomorrow…

  Tomorrow I would meet my fate.

  END OF PART TWO

  III

  Part Three: Trial By Fire

  Theo | Ava | Lorenzo | Menelaus

  EXCERPT

  Internal communication between Akhenaten, Imperi Ducis of the Praefecti, and his Consul:

  The Elder is a problem. The devilish sprite has shielded the Syphons from my vengeance since the day they took my Queen. He has resisted my attempts at persuasion and has always buried his secrets deep beneath the Well of Urd, poisoning Yggdrasil with rot – all for the sake of his insignificant creatures! The Elder has allowed the scourge to continue, and he is to be punished like all the rest. His tricks mean nothing to the Glorious Aten.

  37

  The Break Up

  ‘I feel like I have a noose around my neck.’

  Ava tugged my tie, nudging it into the correct position. ‘It’s called looking the part, Theo. You need to prove you’re taking this trial seriously.’

  I glared at my reflection in the mirror, darkening my expression. ‘Serious enough, eh?’

  She tugged the tie, forcing me to meet her kiss. ‘Let me come with you.’

  ‘Ava, I love you, and that’s why you can’t be there. Stay here in the attic or go to Hellingstead Hall, where the wards will protect you.’

  ‘No,’ she said, kissing me again, ‘I won’t. Penny won’t buy into the ruse if she thinks we’re still on good terms.’ I scooped the swirls of purple, blues, and pinks from her neck, unwilling to start the day pretending. ‘I’ll go to Crystal Clear. Isis is there, she can protect me. If anything happens, we’ll escape through the tunnels.’

  ‘I don’t like that plan.’

  ‘Tough. You know I’m right.’

  ‘Ready?’ I said.

  She squeezed me close to her. ‘I love you too, Theo, you big teddy bear. Forgive me for the things I’m about to say to you, and let’s hope those acting classes Grace and I audited paid off. I’m ready.’

  A few minutes later, I let down the stairs. Fenrir was waiting on the landing, his breath slightly meaty.

  The coven, along with Malachi and Michele, had crammed into the kitchen.

  ‘You’re as bat-shit crazy as the rest of them!’ Ava screamed, storming down the stairs behind me. ‘How could you lie to me like that!?’

  I held up my hands, somewhat shocked at how red her face had become; even the tears in her eyes seemed real. Jörð, she’s good. ‘Oh, don’t be like that. You knew exactly what you were getting into! Now suddenly it’s a problem?’

  Ava and I faced off in the doorway to the kitchen. She glared at the coffee drinkers at the breakfas
t bar, sucking in her cheeks like she was about to spit on the floor. ‘You all disgust me,’ she hissed.

  ‘Don’t talk to my coven like that! Penny saved your life, remember?’

  ‘Oh, and how many has she taken?’ Ava wrung her hands together. ‘I can’t believe I let the sex suck me in so deeply. I wish I’d never met you – again!’ She shoved past me and stormed out of the front door, marching off down the driveway. I stood on the doorstep, calling after her. ‘Fine! Piss off then! See if I care! Maybe I’ll find a woman who can handle a little heat!’

  I slammed the door so hard the house shook, and stomped into the kitchen. ‘Unbelievable!’

  Everyone was silent. Penny held out her coffee to me, an eyebrow raised. She actually looked quite beautiful, hair straightened sleek over a crisp, cream blouse and waist-hugging trousers. She’d toned down the makeup, just hinting at the Egyptian, a light blush on her high cheekbones. I tried really hard to look at her with desire, as if I were seeing her for the first time.

  ‘What was that about?’

  I shook my head. ‘Some women seem very confused about what they want. I thought she had accepted me for what I am, but a sapien just can’t understand.’ Half of me believed it; Michele had emphasised during our training sessions that lies should be concealed in the pretty wrapper of truth. ‘We haven’t always seen eye to eye, Penny,’ I continued, staring deep into hers, ‘but I have always respected your tenacity. You know what you want and you’re not afraid to take it. I’m fed up of being afraid.’

  Her little frown smoothed out, blood-red lips parting, about to speak.

  Malachi cut in. ‘Yes, this is all very touching, but we have a trial to attend.’