Nothing.
The knights have no faces, just slight elevations indicating where a nose and lips should be. The runic symbols etched on their helmets give off a neon light, casting shadows over their empty eye sockets.
My army is faceless.
44
NECK-DEEP IN FOG AND TROUBLE
Mom’s lullaby radiates back at me, off the knights. It’s an uncanny experience given that the knights have no mouths, yet the music is clearly coming from them. The song ends, but a few chords, spiky and rough as lizard skin, linger. One of the front-row horses shakes its head and digs a hoof into the fog-shrouded ground.
We have waited long for you.
All is now in place for you to lead us out of the fog-cursed space between Niflheim and Miðgarðr.
Spoken in the style of a Greek chorus, the words flutter through my mind. I guess telepathic communication makes perfect sense around here, in this land populated by mouthless and earless beings.
We can hear you and you can hear us because Niflheim blood runs through your veins. It is stronger than your human blood—just as the Telling predicted. Your blood calls for us, and ours calls for yours. It has taken you ten years to hear our call, but now that you are here, you will take your rightful place and lead your people out of the eternal fog, into Miðgarðr, as it was sung in the Telling.
“Who are you exactly and what is … Miðgarðr?” I shift my eyes from one empty face to the next. I can only count twelve of them in the first row, but I suspect their number is much higher.
We are many.
In time, you’ll learn our names.
Gylfi, Jafnhárr, Alin, and Helga. Also Aurgelmir and Ulfran, his son … All two hundred and six of us. Yours to command.
Miðgarðr is our home to be. You are to lead us there before the rest of our kind can follow.
Based on my rusty knowledge of Germanic mythology and Norse folklore, combined with what I’ve learned of the Nibelungs in the past few days, I’m guessing Miðgarðr must be the human domain, since it also sounds a lot like Midgard. And these strange faceless creatures believe I’m going to lead them there … to conquer it?
I don’t know if they can only hear what I choose to transmit or everything that goes through my head, but regardless, it’ll be superawkward when I break the news that I don’t have any immediate plans to lead them anywhere. But, for now, I have to focus on Del’s retrieval. That’s all that matters.
“I came here to save my friend.” My words are met with cemetery-at-night–grade silence. Even the horses stop their fretting and just stare straight ahead, unblinking. I notice that whatever plague wiped the faces of these warriors clean of eyes and mouths didn’t affect the horses.
I continue, “I’m looking for a girl. A human girl. Black hair, dark skin, hazel eyes, has a bit of an attitude? Delphine Chauvet? Goes by Del? She must have come through here just seconds before I showed up. Do you know where she is?”
Their already-long silence stretches into an uncomfortably long one. These creatures must have all the time in the world. Well, I don’t. I’m on a deadline to locate Del and take her back to the human world before … before what? A thunder clap echoing far away is the only sound disturbing the tense stillness.
The human child you seek is now forfeit.
My skin grows cold despite the humidity of this place. “What do you mean ‘forfeit’?”
Her sacrifice was not expected, but it is welcome.
There are times when humans enter this world by mistake or design … but to leave …
I shake my head, unwilling to believe what they imply. Besides, I remember reading those snippets from Dad’s scientific journals—the instances of people disappearing, then returning unharmed. Before the knights can detect my mental protests, a raven calls from above. I can’t see the culprit in the fog, but the sound elicits a reaction among the knights. Their heads move side to side, as if looking at their fellow riders. Do they know they have no faces?
She is here.
The bird’s powerful wings cut through the fog, disturbing the air above and around me. My hands fly up on impulse to protect my head as a giant white raven materializes out of the fog.
The bird lands on the outstretched arm of one of the knights.
Everything’s in place for our release.
Except for Grane. But he is on his way.
A wave of excitement runs over me at the mention of Grane. My battle horse.
The Telling sings of Grane carrying you to Miðgarðr on his mighty back. He was created to be our leader’s battle horse. Ella was once Grane’s rider. It is now your turn.
The earth trembles with the staccato of powerful hooves.
I want to see Grane. My need for his presence is almost primal. But … accepting Grane as mine would be akin to giving in to my Nibelungen nature. And I can’t do it now. Not when Del needs me.
As much as it breaks my heart, I push Grane away, my telepathic rejection stopping him midstride somewhere in the fog. His despair paints my world dark, but I send my sadness away, exiling it to the back of my mind.
I shake my head. “I’m here for Del, and I’m not leading anyone anywhere until you give her back to me. She doesn’t belong here. There must be something that can be done for her!”
Nothing can be done. Not if you treasure the balance of the universe.…
Supressing my murderous impulse to rage and threaten, I decide I need to find another way to convince them to lead me to Del. “How about this: You release Del, and I’ll lead you out of here.”
When they remain silent, I wonder if they’re about to turn on me. After all, my proposed bargain implies that I’m less than willing to perform my duty.
When they do respond, their chorus is weaker, less defined. If we do as you wish, there will be consequences.
“Whatever I have to do to get Del out of here, I’ll do it.”
If that is your wish, we shall take you to where the human child slumbers.
They retreat deeper into the fog, leaving me alone and fighting against the panic that threatens to freeze me in my spot. Do I follow them into the unknown? Can I really trust them?
But if I turn around and try to get back into my world, leaving Del here, will I ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again?
I realize my mind has been made up all along. I’m ready to follow my eerie sentinels deeper into the land of fog. As I take my first steps, the ground underneath my feet trembles, moving in rough waves. I struggle to stay upright.
“Hayden!” Shannon jumps down nearby, having come from the higher ground, like I did earlier.
“What are you doing here?” My heart’s doing crazy leaps. I’m not sure if I’m happy that he came after me or frustrated with him for putting himself in danger. I decide that regardless of how I feel, he’s here now and I no longer have to do this alone. I fling my arms around him, and he gives me a short but meaningful hug.
When he releases me and takes a long look around, I watch him accept this alien world and see it all again with him, through his eyes. What does he make of it? When he pauses to stare at the faceless knights, his eyes grow bigger. “Just roll with it,” I whisper in his ear.
“Okay.… Just an FYI, but I now know the true meaning of the expression all hell broke loose, because that’s what happened after you jumped into the vortex. Elspeth went after you, but the vortex spat her back out. Then Gabriel tried, but the same thing happened. Then they turned on me, but I followed you, fell through an opening in the fog, and now I’m here.”
“They’re going to take me to Del.” I nod at the silent army. “But I may have promised them something in return. Something they want.”
“What is it?”
“Their freedom.”
45
THE TELLING TELLS MANY THINGS
The horseback riders encase me and Shannon in a semi-oval formation, ushering us into the depths of this foggy alien world. The white raven follows us, its form barely
visible through the milky haze. But I know the bird’s there; I can sense its calming presence and the workings of its powerful wings, and I can hear its occasional cackle.
I shove my hands deeper into the fog, then show Shannon the residue of the fairy-dust powder coating my skin. He takes my hand and gives my fingers a light squeeze. Despite the fog clogging my view, I see the familiar dark gray of his eyes and feel a tiny bit safer. Leaning into him, I whisper, “The moment we get Del, I want you to take her and run back to that cave, and hopefully go home, okay?”
“Actually, I was going to ask you to do the same thing.”
“Shannon.”
“Do you honestly think I’m going to leave you here?”
I let the conversation drop. I’ve caused enough trouble for Del. I’m not going to endanger her or anyone else anymore. If getting her out of here while preventing the Nibelungen army from entering the human world means I have to stay, so be it. For now, I can pretend like I don’t have to make these decisions in the near future.
Holding on to each other, Shannon and I begin our hike through the fog. Every rise and fall of the unstable terrain beneath my feet reverberates through my body. Soon the fog begins to lift, thinning out enough to allow a glimpse of a large edifice looming up ahead.
We continue toward this construction till a tall iron gate emerges from the fog. The gate is cut into a crumbling, stone-laid wall and stands half-open, periodically releasing thick puffs of dark smoke from whatever lies beyond.
You are expected. Come inside, the faceless crowd informs me.
Not letting go of Shannon’s hand, I step over the threshold of the building. The moment we cross over, the fog all but disappears. It makes no sense—the ruined walls surrounding the building would, in theory, be useless at keeping fog out.
A musical voice rolls over me, making my stomach lurch with odd pleasure. “For lack of a better word, I’d call it magic.”
This voice I’m hearing is real. As in nontelepathically transmitted.
I stare into the corner where (I think) the voice came from. The space is shrouded in shadows. But the longer I stare, the more I see it: a twitch of a movement followed by the physical act of air reshuffling as a humanoid figure assembles itself out of the shadows, growing taller and taller until it towers over me and even Shannon.
Shannon wants to step forward, to position himself between me and the shadowy being, but I hold him back.
“Magic is what’s keeping the fog out of this place?” I ask the vaguely defined creature.
“Yes.” The speaker’s tone is mocking but not hostile. “And as the Telling informs us, hybrids such as yourself possess roughly as much magical ability as the rest of us magi of Niflheim. But you might already know that.”
I want to ask him about this Telling I keep hearing about, but Shannon speaks first. “Look, whoever you are, we’re only here to get the girl that came through the vortex earlier. She’s human. Her name is Del. Have you got her?”
Shannon’s words provoke a series of odd movements in the darkened corner—shadows pulling and twisting as if to fill in the gaps where the being’s shape lacks physical matter.
At last the owner of the voice steps out of the corner and into the light that streams from an unidentifiable source above.
The being’s lovely, androgynous face is stunning. It reminds me of those charming angels that grace old-fashioned Christmas postcards. But if his face is angelic, the rest of him is all fey from folktales: pointed ears, high cheekbones, mischievous look. His short hair is platinum white, contrasting with eyes so deep blue, they could compete with those dark patches of water where the ocean floor plunges into an abyss.
“Call me Hel,” the being says. “I’m the last oracle of the Niflheim realm. And I shall get to the matter of Delphine’s fate shortly, but first, I understand you’d like to know more about the Telling?” He grins, locking his magnificent nonhuman eyes on me.
I want to know him, I realize. To keep hearing him talk. But most important, I desperately want to trust him. The need is almost visceral.
With catlike fluidity in his long limbs, Hel lowers his lean frame to the ground and crosses his slender legs underneath his flowing black robe. He’s barefoot. Elongated toes with pale-aquamarine nails peek from beneath the folds of his clothing.
“Don’t touch anything!” Startled by Hel’s warning, Shannon steps away from some shelves overflowing with murky glass jars, hourglasses, broken clocks, doll parts, and who knows what else. A sheepish smile on his face, Shannon comes to my side, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Why don’t you two restless kids take a seat?” Hel chuckles, and, as if on command, my legs fold down, taking my body with them. Dizzy from Hel’s blunt compulsion, I land on the warm, stony ground. Shannon’s next to me, our knees touching.
I don’t like that Hel has this power over me. Not one bit. So I push back. Most of my resistance comes from pure instinct, but the rest is my building rage. He’s got Del, I remind myself. He’s got Del, and for all I know, she’s hurting while he’s distracting us. I don’t know what I’m doing exactly, but everything that led me to this moment tells me I have an innate power inside me that I should be able to access on command. In fact, I’ve already seen the effect of this power on those around me—in Del’s hypnotized response when I voiced my unease about Santiago, and also even earlier, when I spoke to the red-haired guy at the airport car rental in Denver. And I can even recall similar experiences from further back in time. Jen Rickman. Probably Dr. Erich. Even Dad. I know at some stage I must’ve compelled my father to do something he didn’t want to do, like let me go to school with all the other kids when he knew for sure it must’ve been a very bad idea.
I pull at that invisible thread inside me, focusing all of my intent on Hel. As if he can feel what I’m trying to accomplish, Shannon places his hand on top of mine. The warmth of his skin gives me strength. Still, my mental attack on Hel is clumsy, all over the place. I don’t think it’s working at all. But then a shiver goes over Hel’s body, like a mild seizure. He’s fighting me off, I realize. Whatever I’m doing, it’s working. But before I can try again, Hel claps his hands—one powerful clap that deafens me for a second, breaking my concentration.
“Not bad for a rookie, my dear. Not bad at all.”
I study his face. His relaxed tone doesn’t match the shadow of surprise that darkened his features for a quick moment before disappearing. I realize with a start: He’s afraid of me. Good to know. I file that knowledge away. For now.
Looking between Shannon and me, Hel’s stunning eyes assume a vulturelike intensity, the scrutiny making me feel like he knows everything, can see right through me, down to the deepest recesses of my mind. I push back, and his presence recedes from my head slowly.
“What’s this place?” I ask, hoping to break Hel’s concentration the way he broke mine moments ago. “And how come you have a face and they don’t?” I look around, expecting to find our silent escort nearby, keeping guard at the perimeter. But they’re gone. “Where’s Del?”
“So. Many. Questions.” Hel laughs, looking at me like I’m a talking monkey and everything I say is hilarious. “But I guess that’s to be expected, since you’ve been cut off from Niflheim your entire life. If you must know, this is a place between places— a no-place at all. My theory is that it used to be a universe of its own until it shrank and shifted out of balance, forced to dwell on the periphery of space-time. If the clearing in the Promise woods is a doorway, then this place is a corridor connecting Niflheim and Miðgarðr. As to why I have a face … you see, being stuck in this no-place for so very long has had a terrible effect on our kind. The emptiness here slowly deletes us from existence, chipping away at our bodies and souls like water eroding rock—slowly but surely. But I’m no ordinary Niflheim dweller. I was strong when I crossed over here. Obviously I was not strong enough to follow Ella into Miðgarðr, but I was strong enough to retain my identity, unlike those poo
r faceless creatures you’ve met.” He takes a breath, holds it, and lets it out. “Any other questions before we get to business?”
“Sure,” I retort. “I’d like to see Del now. Where is she?”
Hel lets out an exasperated chuckle, like someone who’s quickly losing his patience. But guess who’s also losing patience? Me.
“It’s not as easy as you might think, Hayden,” Hel explains. “Delphine’s been sacrificed—”
“She shouldn’t have been sacrificed in the first place! It was an accident. She clearly doesn’t belong here.”
“You know who else clearly doesn’t belong here?” Hel’s mocking gaze turns serious. “Me. And the rest of your people. Your mother and her allies worked so hard to reopen the portal and set us free. Your mother had quite a vision for the world you call home.”
“And then my mother changed her mind,” I protest, remembering Mom’s clear instructions on closing the portal once and for all. If only I’d trusted her and done as she willed me to do, then we wouldn’t be in this mess now. Del wouldn’t have been compelled and mutilated. She wouldn’t have been sucked into a vortex in the woods and trapped in this foggy wasteland. To Hel, I reiterate, “My mother wanted to close the portal, not reopen it.” Mom wasn’t a monster. She loved me. She loved my dad.
“But it is not a matter of love, my dear Hayden,” Hel replies, apparently having read my unguarded mind. “It is a matter of blood and duty. Your mother may have had a moment of weakness, but in the end her blood would have prevailed. She would have always chosen her people. Always.”
“I don’t believe you!” I spit out the words. “You didn’t know her after she left this world. But I knew her.”
“Did you? Really?” Hel scowls. “Did you also know how badly she wanted to conquer the human world, to rule over it? But then she realized that in Miðgarðr, away from her homeland, her power was diminished, and she had to think of another way to make her vision a reality. That’s why she created you! Because she’s been listening to what the Telling sang to her, to what it’s been singing to our kind for eternities.”
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