Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1)

by S. T. Bende

  Tyr kept my chin in his hand. “I am the protector—I defend the realm against threats. Elsa is the healer, for the rare cases in which I fail. Freya cultivates love, to give us hope in the face of loss. The Norns prophesy destiny, so we know where we fit in our world. Every job, every single job, is of equal importance. When one fails to function at its peak, the others fall out of sync, and the realms tumble out of the perfekt balance we’re sworn to uphold. Do you understand that?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. I know you want to fight alongside me. I get it. But you weren’t born to be a warrior. Trust me, prinsessa, there will come a day when you risk everything to protect the realms, but you’ll do it using your uniquely beautiful energy in the way only you can. Not by shooting some wolf with a gun. You following me into this fight today isn’t going to help anyone.”

  The enormity of Tyr’s words sent a tremor through me—could my fate be more entwined with his than I’d dared to hope? I placed my hand on his chest. “Hold on. Someday I’ll risk everything to protect the realms, but today you want me to just sit back and watch? And do nothing? How does that help anyone?”

  “It keeps you alive.” Tyr stroked my chin with his thumb. “I know you’ve been raised to believe you can do it all. That’s one of the things I love about you. Midgard is beautiful that way—a human with the right skill and focus can truly conquer your world. Right now, in this battle with this monster, you can’t do it all. I’m sorry, but you can’t. Not if you’re going to live to fulfill your own destiny with us. You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to agree with it. But it’s the way it is.” Tyr kissed the top of my head, and pulled his hand from my waist.

  “Stay with Brynn. She’ll take care of you. I’ll be back in a few.” His eyes didn’t quite meet mine.

  “Please don’t go,” I begged.

  “I have to. Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be fine.” He walked me to a steely-eyed Brynn and put my hand in hers. “No matter what happens, I need you to promise me you’ll keep her safe.”

  “I promise.” Brynn squeezed my fingers with one hand and twirled her nunchucks with the other.

  “I mean it, Brynn. Until the day you die. Look after her.” Tyr kissed my forehead again and stepped back. My insides lurched, sending a surge of bile into my throat. I swallowed it back down. Oh god. He’s saying goodbye.

  “Tyr.” I reached for him, but he jogged into the house. He emerged seconds later wearing the black fatigues from this morning, a crossbow strapped to his back.

  “Let’s roll.” Tyr marched across the lawn and onto the beach. Freya, Henrik and Forse fell in step beside him. Tyr said something to Forse, and the justice god made an abrupt right turn. He ran up the steps to Elsa’s cottage and stood sentry on the porch. Tyr must have ordered him to look out for his baby sister.

  When the hunting party reached the top of the dune, I held my breath. They crossed over the ridge so I couldn’t see them anymore, but I could hear the feral snarl. It made my stomach drop.

  “I can’t take this.” I turned to Brynn. “I have to know what they’re doing.”

  “Absolutely not.” Brynn shook her head. “There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near that scene. Tyr would kill me.”

  “Please,” I begged. Tears filled my eyes. “I can’t lose him. I have to see that he’s okay.”

  “What if he isn’t okay? Do you want to see that, too?”

  My insides lurched. Tyr had to be all right. But that wasn’t the only problem with my request. As much as I needed to be there to support him, I didn’t want to be a distraction. And if Tyr saw me watching him, I knew he wouldn’t be able to help worrying about me.

  The tears spilled over, and I swiped at my cheeks. “Once they’re outside the barrier, can they see inside it?”

  “No.” Brynn shook her head. “The enchantment works like a mirage—the gods who have access to the compound only see the shimmer of the protection from the outside, nothing more. For everyone else, this place just looks like a deserted cove.”

  “Good.” I wiped my nose with my sleeve. “Then take me somewhere inside the barrier where I can see over the dunes. I’ll know I’m there for him, but he won’t.”

  “Unless he picks up on your thoughts,” Brynn pointed out.

  “He promised he’d stay out of my head.” I sniffled. “And besides, my thoughts here are going to be the same as my thoughts anywhere else. I’m worrying about him, either way.”

  Brynn glanced at Forse, who stood on Elsa’s porch. He nodded, and she gave me a stern look. “I’ll let you watch. But we’re staying here.”

  “How am I going to see over the dune? It’s thirty feet high.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m a valkyrie.” Brynn put her fingers between her lips and let out a wolf whistle. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Forse raise and lower his arm, but I didn’t pay much attention to the gesture.

  Because at that moment, an enormous winged horse landed on the grass. It was white, with long silver hair woven in an intricate series of braids. It easily stood ten-feet tall, with intimidating haunches and silver hooves.

  “Mia, Fang. Fang, Mia.” Brynn made the introductions. The horse nodded at me while I stared, dumbstruck.

  “Your horse has wings.”

  “Duh.” Brynn rolled her eyes. She climbed on its back easily and held out a hand. “She’s a pegasus. Now, are we going or not?”

  I grabbed her hand and struggled to climb onto the horse. Without a saddle, there wasn’t anywhere for me to get leverage, and I didn’t want to wedge my foot in the poor animal’s leg. Brynn wrapped her fingers around my forearm, and lifted me with an ease that made it clear the valkyrie was anything but human. My arms wrapped around Brynn’s waist, and I rested my heels against Fang’s ribs. She shimmied.

  “Just so you know, I’ve never ridden bareback.”

  Brynn stared at me. “Well, have you ever ridden a pegasus?”

  Point, valkyrie.

  “Just hold on. We’ll take care of the rest, ja, Fang?” She nudged the animal with her heel and Fang took off. I tried not to scream while we hurtled upward in a tight circle. We came to a stop forty feet in the air. When Fang flapped her wings, we hovered directly above the spot where we’d just been sitting.

  A rush of fear chilled me. I wished I’d stayed on the ground.

  The gods and the wolf were locked in battle on the sand. Freya kept guard at the perimeter of the compound, lunging with her rapier each time Fenrir got too close. He snarled at the weapon, baring his yellow teeth. Freya didn’t flinch. With each growl, she simply squared her shoulders and struck again, jabbing at Fenrir’s dripping fangs until he backed up. When he charged, she pulled a dagger out of her back pocket. She swung her weapons at the wolf, the blades moving so fast they blurred. Fenrir let out a yelp. Freya swiped again and Fenrir took two steps back to the water. He pawed at his ear. Freya kept her swords at the ready, but her face was triumphant as she wiped the blood from her blade.

  Fenrir stomped the sand with a vicious howl, while Tyr and Henrik closed in on each side. Tyr stalked a half circle around Fenrir in a hunter’s crouch, crossbow still strapped across his back. Henrik moved opposite the war god, twirling his Samurai swords in slow figure-eights. Fenrir whipped his head back and forth between the gods.

  He lunged for Tyr.

  My breath caught in my throat as Fenrir closed the gap between them. Tyr bent at the knees and flew into the air. He met Fenrir ten feet above the ground. The wolf struck Tyr’s face with one paw, leaving thick claw marks across Tyr’s cheek. Tyr didn’t flinch. He grabbed the animal’s leg and bit down with his teeth. The sound of crunching bones echoed across the beach.

  Fenrir howled again. It was an agonized sound that bounced off the dunes. The god and the wolf crashed to the ground, scrambling apart. Freya saw her chance and lunged for Fenrir, driving him away from Tyr. The wolf was so focused on Freya’s rapier, he didn’t see Henrik approach from behind. Henrik swung his swords in vicio
us circles over his head. He swiped at the canine’s haunches so quickly his weapons were a blur of silver.

  Henrik sliced Fenrir’s leg and Tyr held out his hand, sending a beam of magic that shot the animal into the air. Blood gushed from Fenrir’s open vein, covering the sand in a shower of red. The wolf hovered over the ground, shrieking in pain, while Tyr, Henrik and Freya shifted positions beneath him. Fenrir was losing a lot of blood, and the minute he touched the ground he’d find himself outnumbered, if not outmaneuvered. From my perch on the flying horse, I allowed myself a moment of relief.

  That was when the dragon swept in.

  The beast rose from the ocean outside our protective dome like a sunken Viking ship, its head breaking the surface in one smooth movement. Its skin was an inky purple, with sharp black plates along its spine and a wrecking ball-sized orb at the end of its tail. The orb was cloaked in thick spikes.

  “What. Is. That?” I clung to Brynn’s waist.

  “I think it’s Hel’s guard, Garm. Hel would have sent her lackey when her brother called. She doesn’t leave her post.” Brynn stared at the dragon in awe. “I’ve never seen Garm in person. I always figured she was a dog. You know, like ‘the hound of Hel’? Guess I should have paid better attention in my Dark Realms lectures.”

  “The dragon’s a girl?” My eyeballs burned as the dragon spewed fire from her mouth. Even at this distance, the heat was debilitating.

  “Yes.” Brynn gripped Fang’s neck with white knuckles. “Mia, you don’t need to see this. Let me take you back down.”

  “I don’t want to leave Tyr.” The words came out on a sob.

  “Mia,” Brynn pleaded. “Hel’s guard doesn’t leave survivors.”

  “Please,” I whispered.

  Brynn was quiet, but the way she set her jaw spoke volumes.

  On the ground, the gods circled beneath the wolf. I presumed they were working out the best way to tie him up before the dragon got any closer. Blood still flowed freely from Fenrir’s leg. His howl caught Garm’s attention, and the dragon swooped over the ocean. She was easily forty feet long from nose to tail, with five-inch claws dangling beneath thick legs. She flew effortlessly to the edge of the shore, then blew a stream of fire at Fenrir. Instead of burning his fur, the fire acted as a healing agent. It stopped the flow of blood and Fenrir’s legs went from limp and dangling, to firm and strong. Did the dragon just reset the wolf’s broken legs?

  Tyr and Henrik locked eyes and grinned. I had to shake my head. It was so like them to have fun, even in the worst possible situation.

  Henrik bolted south along the shore. He swung his swords over his head so the moonlight bounced off their silvery surface. The dragon’s head turned toward the moving reflection. She took off after Henrik, shooting fire from her mouth as she flew. Henrik used his blades as shields, deflecting each inferno with a dexterity that left me breathless. It would have been a beautiful dance, if Henrik’s life wasn’t on the line.

  While Henrik drew the dragon toward the rocks, Tyr and Freya prepared to take on the wolf. They took up arms on opposite sides of the beast—Tyr at the shoreline, Freya against the compound’s barrier. Fenrir pawed at the ground. He turned in a slow circle.

  Tyr drew the crossbow over his shoulder and took aim. “You’re trapped, Fenrir. Submit yourself to Odin or prepare to meet your end.”

  The wolf snarled, a stream of angry sounds passing through his lips.

  “He’s saying Tyr’s wrong. Jörmungandr and Hel will come when he calls them, and together they’ll wipe out the gods and take down the compound.” Brynn shook her head.

  “You can speak wolf?” I asked incredulously.

  “Can’t you?” Brynn whispered over her shoulder.

  “No,” I muttered.

  “Then Odin and Thor will come, and we’ll wipe out you and your siblings,” Tyr countered.

  As he spoke, a bolt of lightning shot from the sky. It landed in the sand where Fenrir’s blood had gathered, creating a molten-hot pool of crimson glass. Fenrir stared at the pool, then whipped his head from Freya to Tyr and back. His growl came out in a bitter hiss.

  “He’s saying he won’t surrender,” Brynn translated. “He knows Odin would have killed him if it wasn’t for Tyr, and he doesn’t trust the gods. He wants to know what Odin’s terms would be for a truce. He knows Thor’s bolt could have hurt him if he’d wanted to. The lightning was a warning.”

  “I thought Thor was the God of Thunder,” I whispered back.

  “He multitasks.” Brynn waved her hand.

  “He missed on purpose?” I shouted. “What the hell?”

  “We need him alive, remember?” Brynn said.

  Cheese and freaking crackers. I shifted my attention to the sand.

  “Fair enough,” Tyr said. “Odin’s requests are simple. He wants you to stay away from Asgard, Midgard, Alfheim and Vanaheim. Is that something you’re willing to do?”

  Fenrir snarled. Then he nodded once.

  “Excellent.” Tyr looked at Freya and she pulled the ribbon from her back pocket. “Odin also wants you to wear this ribbon. It’s a tracking device. To make sure you comply with the terms.”

  Fenrir let out a series of growls so visceral, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Brynn tensed in front of me, and even her horse let out a nervous whinny.

  “What did he say?” I almost didn’t want to ask.

  “He doesn’t believe Tyr. He thinks it’s a trap.” Brynn’s voice cracked.

  Well, it is.

  Tyr exhaled slowly. He glanced at the sky, where Brynn and I were cloaked behind the invisible barrier. My stomach clenched as he gave a sad smile. What was he going to do?

  “Take my arm.” Tyr gave the wolf a cool gaze. “Hold it between your teeth while Freya attaches the tracking ribbon. If anything bad happens to you, you can bite my arm clean off. But if nothing happens, you let me go unharmed. Do we have a deal?”

  The wolf let out one sharp bark and opened his mouth. Tyr placed his forearm between Fenrir’s teeth.

  “No,” I whispered. Brynn tensed as I squeezed her torso. “Can’t you stop him?”

  Brynn shook her head. “He knows exactly what he’s doing.”

  My eyes closed for the briefest of moments. In that instant, I sent silent prayers to the universe, asking God, Odin, Zeus, Buddha, and whoever else might be listening, to protect Tyr from the monster on the sand. When I looked down again, Freya was tying the ribbon around Fenrir’s neck. The pink fabric emitted a sharp burst of light as it sealed itself against the wolf’s fur. In that moment, Fenrir let loose a terrifying growl.

  It was done.

  But it wasn’t over. Just before Fenrir was rendered immobile, he gnashed his teeth together and jerked his head left, then right. He must have realized it was a trap. The sickening crunch of bones was punctuated by the image of gushing liquid as blood poured from Tyr’s arm. And since the ribbon appeared to lock every muscle in Fenrir’s body in place, when Tyr’s body flew through the air, Fenrir had no way to release his limb.

  Tyr lost his arm.

  He landed in a heap on the sand, and rolled unsteadily to his knees. As he shifted, he stared with resignation at the exposed sinew dangling just below his right elbow. The jagged muscles were unsettling; the blood gushing from the exposed tissue was downright horrifying.

  Tyr lurched to the side. A cardinal pool formed at his feet as the blood flowed freely. Freya dove forward just as Tyr fell to the ground, unconscious. She pulled him away from the now-immobilized wolf. My heart stilled—it felt like someone had dropped a lead balloon on my chest.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Freya glanced down the beach, where Henrik was locked in a mid-air battle with the dragon. He delivered a well-timed jab to the dragon’s chest, sending Garm plunging into the water. Henrik dove after her, taking the battle under water. It felt like an eternity before Henrik rose to the surface, sputtered for air, then dove again. He emerged ten seconds later, sword in one h
and and Garm’s severed head in the other.

  “Heimdall!” Freya shrieked at the sky. “Open the Bifrost!”

  The sky parted and a beam of light shot onto the sand, where Fenrir struggled against the seemingly flimsy pink ribbon.

  “Heimdall, take Fenrir to the prison chamber. Bring Garm’s remains with him. Brynn, get down here. We need to get Tyr to the healers.” Freya issued her commands like a seasoned warrior.

  An offshoot of the Bifrost beamed in Henrik’s direction. He tossed the dragon’s head at the light while it drew the monster’s body from the depths of the sea. The light pulled back from the sand, sucking Fenrir into the sky when it retracted. As quickly as it had come, the Bifrost was gone.

  “Brynn!” Freya screamed.

  “Hold on, Mia.” Brynn kicked Fang’s side, and the pegasus swooped onto the sand. “Scoot back,” Brynn commanded, and I moved as close to the animal’s tail as I could without falling off. Freya lifted Tyr easily onto Brynn’s lap before giving one final command. “Get him to the healing unit immediately. He’s going to die.”

  ****

  “Fenrir’s bite was laced with dark magic. Tyr’s bleeding out.” Freya raced alongside Fang, pulled Tyr off the pegasus’ back, and ran my boyfriend into the medical unit while I was still struggling just to breathe. I heard her shout ahead as she ran. “Prep the second bed!”

  I followed in a daze, barely feeling the ground beneath my feet. Inside the healing unit, Elsa lay propped up in a queen-sized hospital bed, skin glowing and lips moist, her legs covered in the same plushy white comforters that decorated Tyr’s room next door. But this suite lacked the Jacuzzi tub, and in its place sat another queen-sized hospital bed, waiting for a second patient.

  It was like the gods were expecting this.

  Hold the phone. It was like the gods were expecting this.

  I surveyed the room. Elsa was coming into consciousness, looking radiant in a royal blue dressing gown. Her hair shone in a mass of blond waves, and her cheeks had the kind of color that didn’t come from blush. The machine at her bedside projected her vitals onto the wall, punctuated by one word—NORMAL.