Suddenly, a flame shot over the bridge. Without hesitation, Hel made her way toward it. She stopped in front of the dancing orange vision, her tone commanding. “State your name and reason why you are here.”
I strained to hear.
The reply was soft. “Ranton Leiger. I murdered my wife.”
I was shocked by the blatant admission, but Hel certainly wasn’t. Made sense, considering where I was.
“I sentence you to labor for an eternity.” She flicked her wrist at the apparition. Before the soul could respond, it melted away.
I wondered what she’d meant by labor. What kind of work did a ghost do anyway? Hel rolled up the dais to one of the thrones, looking unfazed that she’d just sentenced someone indefinitely.
This was her job, all day, every day.
So many questions.
I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I made my way to the thrones. Something caught my eye as I moved forward. I had to stifle a scream, my hand settling over my beating heart. “Baldur? Is that you?”
I wasn’t sure it was the god of light, since he was almost invisible.
The ghost sitting in the throne next to Hel’s opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Or at least, nothing I could hear.
“How do you know the god of light?” Hel demanded.
I’d already confided to her that Odin was my father, so I answered, “He’s my brother.” Then, going purely on instinct, I added, “I didn’t know he was here.”
I had no idea why I said it, since Frigg banished me here for his death and Hel could feasibly find out. Something inside me just decided that now wasn’t the time to tell her my entire story, and I went with it.
“Gods don’t usually arrive on my doorstep,” Hel said, accepting my answer, staring straight ahead. “They go to Valhalla, which is a place they enjoy infinitely more than here.”
Feigning ignorance, I said, “Why would the god of light be here, then? He’s a good-natured guy who definitely never murdered anyone in cold blood.” Had he? I had no idea.
“Not all who are sent here have committed atrocities.”
“Are there specific rules for ending up here?” I asked, glancing around but finding no place for me to sit. Instead, I stood awkwardly by Baldur’s throne and waited for her response.
“There are no rules,” she answered. “It is all decreed by fate. Although, fate does not favor criminals and ne’er-do-wells. I cannot speak for those who enter Valhalla, but those who enter Helheim deserve punishment.”
She glanced pointedly at me.
I shivered as her creepy dead eye gave me the once-over.
My attention settled back on Baldur. He didn’t seem aware that I was there. I wasn’t sure if I could speak to him directly, but why not try? “Can you hear me, Brother?”
“If you wish to speak to him, you must pay a price,” Hel stated calmly.
“Pay a price?”
“Everything here has a cost. Nothing is given freely.”
“What will it take to speak to my brother?” I asked.
“Your blood,” Hel replied, with no sarcasm whatsoever.
She didn’t elaborate, so I said, “A few drops? Or, like, drained dry?”
“A few drops of your blood given to the river shall suffice.”
Hel was smart and negotiating with her was going to take some finesse. “If I give my blood, how long will I have to speak with him?”
“There are no units of time here,” she said, rolling one eye. “You will have sufficient time.”
“Can I speak with him in private?”
“Nothing in this realm happens without me knowing about it.”
Good to know.
That made things trickier. When Fen arrived, we would have to choose our words carefully. “Does Baldur remember his old life? Does he remember how he died?”
“He does,” she replied.
Honestly, if she’d had a nail file right now, she’d be using it on the nails of her good hand. I couldn’t possibly bore her more if I tried. I was failing miserably at complimenting her, and just about everything else. This was such a strange conversation.
“Can he hear us right now?” If he could, I could weasel in some information to let him know what was going on.
“He can only hear me.”
“Every time I want to talk to him, do I have to give blood?”
“No,” she said. “The cost will be different each time.”
“Does it get more…expensive?” That wasn’t a perfect word, but it was the best I had. I needed to know what I was getting into.
She examined me, and the hairs on my arms stood up. Hel wasn’t the magnanimous type, so I knew I was playing with fire by goading her. She was likely indulging me because I was one of a kind—a distraction from her daily monotony.
Once she decided I wasn’t, things would change.
“The cost for anything is at my leisure,” she finally replied. “It’s dependent on my mood and how greatly you desire such a thing. As I said, you are my first. Everyone who’s ever entered this realm before has been dead, or has died quickly thereafter. You are an anomaly.”
She might as well have said I was a kitten she was toying with. I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen once Fen arrived.
Speaking of that, where was he?
I glanced around casually, trying not to draw attention to the fact that I was searching for Yggdrasil or a cillar. I couldn’t imagine Fen would arrive way out of town like I had. He’d be the second anomaly down here. One who was related to the hostess. “I think I’ll wait to talk to Baldur,” I said. “Does the offer still stand for later?”
Hel scrutinized me, the good side of her lip edging downward.
I was saved from her displeasure by a loud, booming sound, followed by a sharp blast of light.
18
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Hel rose from her throne. The blast had been substantial. She didn’t seem overly alarmed. I was beginning to think that was her perpetual emotional state—disassociated with a side of ambivalence.
She strolled off the dais toward the deathly waters. As she went, I tried to glimpse under her skirts, but all I saw was shadowy black.
As she arrived at the river’s edge, there was another loud boom and a shock of light. This time, the brightness stuck, wavering directly over the water.
I trailed behind her, curious, praying it was Fen. Another monstrous crack sounded. It was like thunder was in the room with us. “What’s going on?”
Without turning around, Hel replied blandly, “A god or goddess is trying to contact me.”
“Do they arrive in person?”
“Of course not,” she scoffed. “If they are strong enough, I will see a projection from them and hear their words. It has been many years since I’ve gotten such a message.”
A god or goddess was trying to contact Hel? That wasn’t a coincidence. To be on the safe side, I moved back and to the side. “And if they’re not strong enough?”
“Then I will only hear their voice. If they are extremely weak, they will not be able to get through.”
We both stood staring at the river, waiting for another boom of thunder, the light still wavering in place.
Note to self: Hel was not chatty.
The mass of light began to take shape, a blob of stretchy molten liquid enlarging into an oval hovering over the river.
Inside, a face began to solidify. I held my breath. It could be Odin, here to tell Hel to treat me nicely. But it very well could be Frigg, here to tell her just the opposite.
As the features came into view, they were decidedly male. A face I didn’t recognize. The man had long dark hair, high cheekbones, and piercing eyes.
“Father.” Hel straightened, a little confusion in her reply. “To what do I owe this visit?”
Loki?
Fen’s dad was here.
Holy crap!
Nobody had mentioned him in Asga
rd, but I knew from the stories I’d heard that he was a trickster—likely responsible for the misinformation about my birth being cursed. He had apparently impersonated a seer and spread lies, but no one knew why.
Fen had told me his father possessed an amazing capacity to glamour himself. He could effortlessly become absolutely anyone he chose.
“You have a female Valkyrie in your possession,” he declared, ignoring any kind of sentiment toward his daughter, to whom he likely hadn’t spoken in hundreds of years. “She is of great value to me.” Then he began to laugh. It was sort of a genial chuckle, which was confusing in the context. “I wish to take her off your hands.”
There were so many things wrong with that sentence.
The top one being that I wasn’t allowed to leave this realm unless I freed Baldur, by decree of Frigg. Loki had to know she’d sent me here, so the trickster god was up to something.
I wasn’t the least bit interested in finding out what.
Hel’s expression didn’t change, nor did she look my way. Thankfully, I stood far enough away that Loki couldn’t spot me from his mystic portal. “I do have a Valkyrie in my possession. She just arrived. What are your terms?”
Um, what?
“Six caskets of gold,” Loki said with triumph.
Odin paid more to get Junnal out of Svartalfheim. Six was a joke.
Once again, Hel’s expression was void. She had the ultimate poker face, which wasn’t hard since half her face didn’t have the option of animation. “I have no use for gold here, Father. You know that.” That was a dig.
I sensed a rift.
“Everyone has use for gold,” Loki replied, unperturbed by his daughter’s refusal. “You can use the caskets to barter for things you might need, like a new pet or two.”
“It is impossible for me to barter with anyone, as I’m forbidden to leave this realm. And anyone who comes here to retrieve their gold caskets has a chance of dying before they get to spend their bounty. Is there something else you wish to discuss?”
“Certainly you have no use for the Valkyrie. Taking that burden off your hands will leave you free from having to care for her.”
“I’m not planning on caring for her,” Hel stated, her tone sterile.
What did she plan to do with me? That was the question of the hour.
“If you do not want gold, name your price.” Loki’s anger was leaking out. It was clear this god was used to getting what he wanted, and what wasn’t given to him, he took gleefully.
“Magic,” Hel said.
“In what form?” Loki asked.
“Glamour.”
Loki tossed his head back, laughing cruelly.
His features were still hard to read on the moving mystical screen, but I could see that he was extremely handsome. A trait his daughter did not share. “I cannot give you what lies innately in my bones. You did not receive my particular gift through your birth. There is nothing I can do about it.” His tone was smug.
I had an immediate, visceral dislike for this god.
He cared for no one but himself. Not only that, it was clear he would harm anyone to get what he wanted, including innocents. Who knew what he had planned for me, but my guess was he would hand me over to the Norns, who had probably promised him a hundred caskets so they could enjoy killing me themselves.
“With your six caskets of gold, you could surely have an object crafted by the dark elves that would contain glamour,” Hel replied. “That would be an acceptable option.”
Loki leaned forward, his face filling up the entire confines of the misty oval. “But that could take centuries!” he exclaimed. “Is there nothing that would entice you to release her to me now?”
Hel crossed her arms, the bony one on top.
She’d just confirmed that she craved glamour above all else.
“No.”
“You can’t be serious.” Loki’s features darkened. “I offer you more gold than you could possibly spend in a lifetime—gold that can be used to buy your own magical objects—and you turn me down. Surely you can see a way to broker a deal with your own father.”
“No.” Hel wasn’t even attempting to barter with her father.
I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or scared.
“Fine,” Loki replied through a clenched jaw. “I will look into what the dark elves can do in the matter of glamour and get back to you.”
“As you wish.” Hel bowed her head.
The entire oval exploded, and Loki was gone.
I was about to say something, but Hel came wheeling toward me, her face ferocious. I’d been wrong. She could form expressions. Right now, she looked like the Grim Reaper coming for me, both sides of her face converging to form a hellish expression. “Why does my father want you?” Her voice was shrill. Goose bumps erupted along my arms. “Why is he willing to gift me magic in exchange for you? Who are you to him?”
I stumbled backward as I made a lame attempt to reach for my swords. Before I could get a hold of Gundren, she latched on to both of my wrists, her grip like steel. “Answer me.”
“Um…I don’t know,” I stalled.
Dark rage roiled over her. This was the real Hel. “You will answer me, or I will toss you into that river to die. There will not be a do-over.”
“I have no idea why your father wants me! That’s the truth.” I tried to break her hold on my arms, but failed. Energy swirled inside me, edging to the forefront. I would use it as a last resort. If I fought with Hel right now, it could mean my death. “I’m a nobody. I swear! A girl who was raised on a farm in Midgard. The Norns want me dead because Odin kept my birth a secret. Loki was probably offered a lot of money to kill me or bring me to them. That’s all I know!”
Hel wheeled around, her grip on me still unyielding, and began to drag me behind her.
I had to run to keep up. Whatever was propelling her was a lot faster than a single pair of legs.
“Who exiled you here? Don’t play with me,” Hel demanded as we moved away from the river and the thrones. I glanced over my shoulder, trying to make out Baldur’s outline. If he saw what was happening, maybe he could relate it to Fen once he arrived. Hel spun around, her nails embedded in my wrists, blood pouring out of the puncture wounds. “Tell me who exiled you here, or die.”
“Frigg.”
“The goddess Frigg?” Hel abruptly dropped my wrists.
“Yes.”
“You killed her son.”
“I didn’t kill—”
“Were you with your brother when he died?”
“I was,” I replied hastily, “but I didn’t kill him. The Norn Verdandi did.”
“Follow me,” Hel commanded, not glancing back over her shoulder to see if I decided to comply. She gave a shrill whistle, and beastly barks erupted instantaneously, the creatures rushing to her side.
“Where are you taking me?”
“I have been generous with your questions. No more. I answer to no one. I have infinite ways to kill you, and if you die in this realm, you stay here for all eternity. Unless of course, you are slated to fight during Ragnarok, then you will be let out.” She glanced over her shoulder, her hair swaying. “Which I highly doubt.”
Her beasts surrounded us, keeping up with her with, no problem.
We’d entered some kind of tunnel with only an occasional torch to light the way. She stopped halfway down in front of a door set back into the rock. She opened it, and it let out a mighty squeak. “Get inside.”
I started to say something, then thought better of it. I’d already pushed my luck. I ducked into the small space, which was equipped with exactly nothing. It was simply a hole carved out of rock, roughly the size of a Midgard bathroom.
Hel slammed the door behind me, and some sort of locking mechanism slid into place. It was pitch black, no light filtering through the cracks. “You will stay here until I figure out what to do with you.”
It could’ve been worse. This could’ve been a torture chamber.
&
nbsp; I unsheathed one sword, kindling the blade. It lit up the room nicely. Then I began to pace, searching for literally any way out.
I stopped by the door, examining it. It didn’t have hinges that I could see, and it was extremely thick. I could probably blow it up, but that would sap me of most of my energy and be loud enough to alert every beast in Helheim that I was trying to make a break for it.
There was no other choice but to wait.
I found a place to sit, my back against the rough rock. I rested my blade next to me on the ground so it was handy. As the light dimmed, I was left in the dark. I ran my hands through my hair.
My mind spun. It was the first time I’d had a moment to myself to think and process everything. How in the world did I get here? My new life was surreal to me in every way. Most of the time, there wasn’t time to reflect on it, because everything around me was happening so fast.
I hadn’t been able to get a real bead on Hel yet, and that frustrated me. She was tricky, and scary in a mysterious way. There was darkness she hadn’t betrayed to me yet. It was clear she wasn’t used to interacting with anyone. Her beasts seemed wary of her, so I knew they weren’t friends.
It would’ve been nice to speak with Baldur, but I wasn’t ready to risk giving away much information. I had so many questions. Would he be the same after this? Why had Hel picked him to sit on the throne and not another soul?
Hel had said not a lot of gods were sent here. That was probably why.
That, and Baldur was gorgeous—the polar opposite of Hel. How in the world was I going to convince a half-dead corpse that Vali was a better match for her than the luminous god of light? All while convincing Hel she was pretty and worthy and didn’t need a magic glamour object from her lying cheat of a father to make her beautiful?
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, probably only half an hour, but I was starting to get restless.
“Valkyrie!”
“Fen?” I jumped up. “I’m in here!” I grabbed my sword and rushed to the door, banging the edge of the handle against the stone. It didn’t make more than a muffled tap.
There was a loud, angry roar. The beasts responded in kind.
Fen had shifted into his wolf form.
Exiled: (Phoebe Meadows Book Three) Page 14