The Mists of Niflheim (The Ragnarok Era Book 2)

by Matt Larkin

  She moved to retrieve her dagger. What if Sigyn hadn’t had an apple? Gudrun had assumed she had, but … if she removed the dagger, the woman might bleed to death before help arrived. Had she hit an artery? What in Hel’s name was she even thinking?

  Damn it. Damn the girl and damn herself and damn Grimhild.

  The bitch queen had tried to shape Gudrun and had done so! Grimhild had made Gudrun into something cruel, something like the queen herself.

  Gudrun would not be that. Not ever. Her hands trembled as she examined the wound. It didn’t seem to have hit the girl’s artery. She yanked the dagger free as quickly as she could, then pressed Sigyn’s dress against the wound.

  “Keep pressure on it.”

  What was she doing? Helping this Ás wench? It wasn’t about Sigyn, though; it was about Gudrun, about not being Grimhild.

  Gudrun pulled some herbs from her pouch, then forced them into Sigyn’s mouth. “Chew it. It will help with the pain.” Gudrun rose and wrapped the mists around herself, eager to be away. The other Aesir couldn’t see her, she was certain, but Odin would, as might any vӧlva and most likely Loge.

  Hel, Grimhild would have been proud of her. Stabbing a frightened girl just to keep her from following. Of course, Grimhild would probably have killed the girl and then enslaved her soul. Small comfort that Gudrun was a measure better than that.

  But then … No. She had to stop thinking of Odin as a prize she might one day win. He and Loge were foes to overcome, and to face such foes, she needed every edge possible.

  Neither Odin nor Loge would dare act against Gudrun while she held Loge’s beloved. This pathetic, self-righteous girl might prove the key to undoing the fire priest.

  “Fetch a draug,” she told the Mist spirit. “Have it bring the girl back to Castle Niflung.”

  This Sigyn would prove even more useful than she already had.

  Gudrun stalked through the woods, slipping between the fighting Aesir warriors and the draugar, then out into the deeper forest. She had to get away from here, and not just because of the Aesir. Grimhild’s rage would cool, and she’d turn all her vaettir toward finding this book. Gudrun needed somewhere where those spirits would not look. Somewhere Grimhild would not think to search, and she needed it in a hurry. If Grimhild even suspected her daughter had stolen the grimoire—well, Gudrun didn’t want to think on that.

  Where would Grimhild not look? Where would she not send her vaettir? The river? Maybe Gudrun could break through the ice and submerge the book. From stories, the book was indestructible, so it shouldn’t harm it. But the current might sweep it away, and Gudrun might never find it again. The mountains perhaps, but she had not time to carry the book so far. She needed an immediate hiding place, somewhere to keep it until she could conceal it at her leisure.

  And Grimhild would send her spirits to tear this forest apart looking for it. Looking for Sigyn … Hel, maybe the girl would have been better off if Gudrun had killed her. Assuming Grimhild wouldn’t pull her soul back from the Penumbra to torment her for her crimes. No, she’d have to convince Grimhild to spare the girl, convince her of Sigyn’s value as a bargaining chip.

  Sigyn didn’t have the book, but if Grimhild interrogated her … So Gudrun would need to lie, to tell her Sigyn had already admitted to turning the book over to Odin. Or, better still, to his vӧlva wife. Yes. A vӧlva would be the natural choice for the tome. So Grimhild would search everywhere in the Ás fortress and their camps beyond. Every tree, every rock, every … fire? Mist spirits would not dig through the ash of a bonfire: even the memory of flame was hateful to them. And why would they? Grimhild would not even imagine her foes might burn her book. To her, it was the most precious thing on all Midgard.

  Gudrun slipped into the Ás fortress. Shrouded by mist, none would see her, but the longer she took, the greater the risk. She needed to do this quickly. The Aesir had great bonfires in the courtyard, but once Gudrun approached a fire, her invisibility in the mist would fall away and the Aesir would be able to see her.

  Instead, she focused on what she’d seen Grimhild do, shrouding the mist beneath her to solidness and carrying her up, far above the fire. And she let the book fall into the blaze. A few women huddling around it started at the sudden sparks that leapt out, but they wouldn’t see.

  A blaze of that size would cover the book in ash. Sooner or later, the Aesir would leave this fortress, and then Gudrun could return and claim what lay buried beneath the soot.

  And then … then she would have the power that once belonged to Grimhild.

  57

  An army of the dead swarmed over the Aesir, breaking down what little remained of their defenses after the constant battles with the trolls. A draug retained the skills of its life, meaning those who were great warriors before had become unstoppable waves of death now.

  Even as Odin slew another of the undead, others charged Tyr. No finer warrior graced the Aesir’s ranks, so Odin didn’t fear for his friend. The bone draug Tyr had fought off not long ago seemed a leader among them, for even the dead now hesitated to face Tyr.

  At least until another of the bone-helmed ones closed in on Tyr.

  Odin impaled the draug before him and flung it off his spear. Ought to slow that thing down a moment. Not sparing a glance at the fallen undead, he rushed one attacking Tyr. Odin’s champion dodged from side to side, barely avoiding the constant slashes, thrusts, and kicks of the undead warriors. Unlike the trolls Odin’s people had become accustomed to fighting, this draug fought with controlled savagery—its strength, complemented by skill, precision.

  The draug turned at Odin’s approach. The thing bore armor of sharpened bone, its face concealed by a bone helm, eyes gleaming red beneath it. Even while looking at Odin, it took another swing at Tyr.

  Odin lunged forward, a low strike with Gungnir, forcing the draug to fall back. Or so he expected. Instead, it leapt forward over the spear and slammed its shield into Odin’s face and chest. The sudden, violent impact knocked Gungnir from Odin’s hands and sent him toppling to the ground.

  Dazed, Odin was barely aware of his foe spinning, swinging its sword down at Tyr. The runeblade parried, though Tyr remained on his knees. The draug’s foot caught Tyr in the face, sending him sprawling. It immediately twisted and leapt back at Odin, leading with a thrust that ought to have skewered him.

  Odin rolled to the side, and the draug’s blade whipped around, seamlessly flowing from thrust to a slash that opened Odin’s cheek. A roll carried Odin out of its reach, and it spun back to Tyr, who now launched his own series of attacks.

  The distraction gave Odin just enough time to scramble over and retrieve Gungnir. Immediately he thrust the dragon spear at the undead warrior. Now the draug was forced into naught but defense, deflecting attacks with its sword, with its shield, always losing ground.

  Even it must see the end approach. And yet, what Odin saw of its face revealed only more hatred, not fear. The draug was the antithesis of life, an abomination that ought to be sent back to Hel.

  As are we all …

  Odin grimaced at Audr in his mind. The wraith grew ever stronger, every more maddening.

  He thrust his spear again, and this time the draug did not parry. Instead, it surged forward into the spear, letting it pierce right through it. The dragon spear punched out the draug’s back and, as its momentum carried the creature forward, pierced so far as to become useless in Odin’s grasp. Too late Odin realized the thing’s intent, as it swung its shield at him and sword at Tyr.

  Again the creature’s shield caught him in the face, sending him stumbling back to the ground. Everything spun, and Odin’s ears were ringing.

  Tyr. He had to get to Tyr.

  An instant later the shield flew at him. Odin dropped flat on the ground, avoiding the projectile. As he rose, the draug yanked Gungnir free with its open hand and almost immediately brought it to bear against Tyr.

  Did this abomination mock them?

  Odin rose. He had had more than
enough of this thing.

  Calling upon Audr, Odin stepped in the Penumbra, vanishing from sight. The draug hesitated for a moment, turning to look for him. It was all the time Odin needed. He shoulder-slammed into the creature, knocking it to the ground.

  Tyr was on the undead in an instant, driving his blade through its face. “My lord …” Tyr’s breath came in pants. “I think I hate draugar.”

  Odin retrieved Gungnir. “Then what say we kill a few more?”

  “What have you done?” a woman shouted.

  Odin and Tyr both spun at her voice. The woman wore a form-fitting black dress, slit to leave her thighs bare. With her long golden hair, she might have been intoxicating, if not for the troll-skull mask that obscured most of her face.

  “Grimhild,” Odin said. Queen of the Niflungar, and the reason for all of this. Once, she had tried to seduce him with flesh and foul Art. Now, she moved to strike them down.

  Two more of the bone-armored draugar flanked the woman. They interposed themselves between the Aesir and the sorceress queen.

  “Where is it?” Grimhild demanded.

  Odin looked at Tyr, who shrugged. “What?” Odin asked. “Your soul? I suspect you traded that long ago.”

  Tyr advanced on the bone draugar. “I will handle these things, my lord. Finish her.”

  Two of them? Odin had to admire Tyr’s bravado. “No. We do this together.”

  “Yes,” Grimhild said. “Die together!”

  The draugar charged forward, one at each of them.

  He had no time for this. Odin stepped again into the Penumbra. The draug hesitated an instant, then, through Odin’s Sight, snapped into focus once again and began heading right for him.

  “Well, damn,” Odin mumbled. Apparently draugar could return to the Penumbra or had something along the lines of the Sight.

  He stepped back to the Mortal Realm. The uselessness of his ploy did not stop Audr from tightening his grasp around Odin’s mind, like a serpent slithering its way up his spine and into his brain. It took all his will to beat the wraith down.

  “Kill them!” Grimhild shouted.

  Odin felt the air condense, then twisted to the side as an icicle the size of a spear launched from Grimhild at his head.

  Fighting both wraith and draug would prove too much—one of them would have him.

  And then a wave of heat crashed over Odin at nigh to the same instant a horrendous crash rent the air. The rush of wind threw him and the draug both to the ground. Odin could hear naught but the high-pitched whine now filling his ears. He tried to push himself up, but only managed to roll over.

  Had Grimhild …?

  The draug by Tyr was now a pile of smoldering bone. The mist had burned away to steam in a clearing ten paces around the pile, and everyone, Grimhild and the other draug included, was struggling to regain their feet.

  Everyone save Loki, who stood with his arms wide, looking over the scene. He held a torch in each hand, though one had gone out.

  “B-brother?” Odin mumbled.

  Loki spoke, but Odin couldn’t make out any words over the whine in his ears. How had Loki done that? Odin had never asked what power the apple had given him. Or was this some fell sorcery? At the moment, it didn’t matter.

  The draug engaging Odin regained his feet even before him, once again advancing.

  Odin grabbed Gungnir, drawing in its strength, using it to help him fight back Audr. His hearing returned with it, albeit slowly.

  As the draug advanced on Odin, Loki stepped up beside him, tossing away the extinguished torch. From the other, flames began to spin, then leap and dance up Loki’s arm, coalescing into a ball in his opposite hand.

  Gods above and below, he looked like some horror born of Muspelheim.

  “Go and face her,” Loki said. “I will hold off the fallen Bragning champion.”

  The draug lunged at Loki, but Odin’s blood brother spun, whipping flame around in an arc. The creature immediately fell back, clearly frightened by the fires. Flame. Enemy of Mist, as Niflheim and Muspelheim annihilated each other. Lessons Gudrun had taught him swept through the back of Odin’s mind.

  Loki had bought him time. Time enough to finish Grimhild, and that was what he needed to do.

  Tyr was trying to rise, but his strength had failed him. It fell to Odin. Without another look, Odin ran for the sorceress queen. Loki could clearly take care of himself.

  Grimhild had regained her feet as well, her gaze drawn by Loki and the final bone draug’s standoff. As Odin neared, she turned to him, her hatred magnified. Not a hint of fear. Not yet. “I will finish you myself.”

  Odin advanced on her. “Surrender now, sorceress. Your army is occupied, and you cannot hope to overcome me alone.”

  “Fool. How do you think I built an army?” Grimhild vanished, disappearing into the mist.

  Odin immediately embraced Sight, revealing her location, and continued his slow advance. “You cannot hide from me.”

  “I am the chosen of Hel. I need not hide.” Grimhild reached a hand toward him.

  Odin rolled to the side as another icicle spear launched from Grimhild’s hand.

  “You think immortality enough, my little king?” Grimhild asked. “You think you know aught of the Art?”

  Something slammed into him from behind, knocking him to his knees. He turned and saw the mist itself had coalesced into a club that again swung at him. Odin dove to the side, then roared in pain as an icicle lanced through his side. He scrambled away, trailing blood in the snow, and looked to Loki, still engaged with the draug, though he cast a glance Odin’s way. No. This was Odin’s fight.

  He had to deal with the queen himself.

  The Niflungar and their foul goddess had done this, all of it. They had sent Ymir against Borr to test Odin. Because of that, Odin had lost father and brother and more brothers- and sisters-in-arms than he could count. Grimhild had threatened his people and his family and his very soul.

  It ended now.

  Odin had to protect what was left. What was most precious. His blood.

  Thunder rumbled in the sky above. Valkyries, perhaps, keen to finally claim Odin’s soul. They would have to return disappointed. He was not done yet.

  Odin clutched Gungnir. Handed down from his father and father’s father and before. The weapon of his ancestors, the last line of defense for his children.

  “You threaten my people! My family!” Odin shouted at the sorceress.

  “I will tear them from Midgard! I will rend your soul from your body! I will see trolls feast on your children!” She raised her arms, and hundreds of icicles began to swirl about her in a twister.

  The sorceress advanced, tree branches shredding as she walked through them.

  Odin gritted his teeth. There was no getting through that barrier. There was no fighting such a thing. But if this sorceress thought to threaten his children she would learn there was naught that would stop him from killing her. He reversed his grip on Gungnir and flung it right for her.

  It hurtled like a bolt of lightning through the air, cutting through Grimhild’s twister of death. And Odin charged right in after it. Grimhild leapt to the side, trying to avoid the spear. It flew so fast it slashed open her shoulder. Her barrier slowed for an instant and Odin jumped right through it. Ice blades ripped open a thousand cuts along his body and might have shredded him completely were it not for the mail he wore.

  Odin roared through the pain. “My family! My wife! My son!”

  He landed on top of Grimhild and slammed her into the ground. Then he pounded his fist into her bone helm again and again, until the troll skull cracked and splintered. Blood seeped from innumerable cuts and gashes covering him. But that was all right. It now poured from Grimhild’s broken nose and split lip as well.

  “You want a war?” Odin shouted at her. “You want a war!” He pounded a fist into her ribs which snapped with a satisfying crack. The woman gasped, choking on her own blood as Odin hefted her off the ground. “Know who wi
ns a war? The one who won’t fucking quit!” He slammed his fist straight down. Her troll skull mask shattered and she fell to the ground in a heap.

  Odin kicked her, sending her flying away. This was going to end. He was done looking over his shoulder, done waiting for death to come to those he loved. Father was gone. Ve was gone. Odin would not lose anyone else.

  Then, as Odin looked up, he realized he still held the Sight. And it revealed Gudrun, perhaps thinking she was hidden in the mist. Watching, clutching a tree as Odin beat her mother to death with his bare hands.

  For a moment he looked at the princess, and she at him. Gudrun started, clearly realizing Odin had spotted her. When he looked back to Grimhild, the sorceress was gone. Odin spun, keeping his Sight up, but all he saw was Gudrun, who looked as shocked as he did, and an unkindness of ravens taking flight.

  Odin closed the distance between them at a sprint and grabbed Gudrun, pressing her against a tree. “Where is she?”

  “She transformed into ravens,” Gudrun said, pointing at a flock of the birds flying away. “I didn’t know she could do that … I have no idea what vaettr she must have bound to …”

  Odin gritted his teeth and pressed the princess harder against the tree until she gasped in pain. Maybe he ought to kill this Niflung, as well. Maybe he ought to kill them all. He’d do aught to protect the family that remained to him.

  “You should not have let her escape, Odin,” Gudrun said.

  “I would not have!” Not if Gudrun had not caught his attention, if only for an instant.

  But then, Gudrun had not actually interfered. She had just tried to watch the battle, thinking herself hidden. Had she wanted to see her mother die? What kind of daughter did that make her?

  Odin dropped Gudrun, who sank to her knees and rubbed her chest. Gudrun was a sorceress, her mother’s daughter, and heir to his enemies. She had come to take Odin away with the draugar, and if Loki and Sigyn had not come to his rescue, he might well be back in that dungeon. But then, he’d only escaped the dungeon in the first place because of Gudrun. The twisted girl loved him, or thought she did. Sick as she was, maybe she still imagined some kind of future between them. And despite himself, in his darkest moments, Odin did so as well.