“Maccis . . . how many spirits . . . are around us . . . right now . . . ?”
“Two . . . three dozen . . . .” He was kissing his way down her neck now.
“Ask them to go away.”
Maccis lifted his head and bared his teeth for a moment, his expression going distant. She could hear the edges of his words. Even the fenris respect privacy between mates. Could we be alone?
And then he was kissing her again, with more and more urgency, and then they were down on the ground, in the soft leaves. She could smell apples on him, and suspected he’d brought one for her, just as he’d promised . . . but also as promised, there wasn’t much need for them, at first. Only one minor halt to the proceedings, as he’d reached, blindly, for his poke to scrabble in it. “No need,” she told him, between kisses.
“Yes, there is—”
“Anti-ovulation charm. Anti-implantation charm. And I’m also on the pill. Anything that gets through three layers of protection deserves to win.” Zaya looked up at him. “Besides, my mother says you’re much more marriageable now that your father’s a king.”
The startled expression as he tried to shift mental gears was definitely worth it, and Zaya laughed and stole it away with another kiss.
Quite some time later, she asked him if he were going to shift into wolf form to keep her warm. And saw the faint flinch around his eyes. “No.” He shifted up, his eyes narrowing as he listened to something in the distance.
“Maccis, we were always very comfortable like that. Aside from which, it’s sixty degrees out, and I’m cold.” Zaya did her best to sound normal. As the silence dragged on, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Thought I heard something.” He lay back again. “In the pack, if mates went off together, the others were on watch. They could relax. Let their guards down.”
“Maccis, these woods are your mother’s. Nothing’s going to bother us here.”
“Persian patrol that was smart enough not to bother any of the trees or wildlife might.”
“We’re two miles from Jerusalem’s outskirts.”
“Fine. Someone from the city who’s looking to protest the woods. One of the farmers who’s been displaced. Some random person who, given the opportunity and two naked, seemingly unarmed people, would think it good fun to shoot me and then rape you. Or try.”
Zaya blinked, rapidly. “Do you think the Forest would allow that?”
“. . . I’d rather not trouble the trees to wake up and fight for me. I’ve never seen them do it.” He looked around. “I don’t want to be a wolf around you, Zee.” He was struggling with the words again, and lapsed into mind-speech. Wolf-form is for killing now.
“Can’t it be for more than just that?”
Don’t know if I trust myself with you in that form.
“Odd. You used to use the form because you didn’t trust yourself around me in human form.” Zaya wasn’t trying to argue. She stroked his back, as he turned away from her, fighting some kind of internal battle. She changed the subject. “Were there many mated pairs in the, ah, pack?”
About ten. The rest were unmated, or their mates were far away. Tofa, Hruse, Akki, Oddr, Thyri, Ynga, and myself.
“You mentioned Tofa before. She was the one who got her back broken.”
Yes. A good fighter. She took a grendel off me that day. Maccis rolled over to face her. We were glad when she returned to us. Only a few weeks to recover, once Stormborn and Eir had healed her. Strong. Determined. We thought it a shame that she had no mate yet.
“We?”
The pack. Maccis cleared his throat. “Wolves aren’t really a . . . hive mind . . . but we . . . they . . . even fenris tend to be a little closer to each other than humans are. They have to be, for survival. Fenris tend to sleep close to one another. Most cold temperatures can’t hurt them, but they like the warmth better. And there’s closeness and protection, too.”
“Is that your way of telling me you slept with Tofa?” Zaya put mock-censure in her voice.
I didn’t! Honesty, and some outrage there. She’s beautiful, but I have a mate. Fenris don’t mate for life, like wolves do, but they have more respect for mates than I think humans have.
“I was only teasing, Maccis—”
“I know, but . . . my father and my mother and Lassair worked for so long because they all knew and accepted everything. Having one girl on a string, courting her, and then sleeping with another? I don’t care how ‘casual’ some people are, it’s still cheating. I’m no whoremonger.”
“I didn’t say you were!” Zaya snapped, and then covered her face with her hand. “How’d we get from you keeping me warm in wolf-form to this?” she asked, surrendering. She’d never seen Maccis unleash his temper, other than at the harpy boy at their school. And now he was . . . much closer to slipping off his leash than she’d ever seen him. “Maccis, I trust you. I was just teasing.”
He slumped a little. It’s not that I wasn’t tempted, Zee. She’s very attractive, in the fenris way. It’s being tempted and not doing anything that’s . . . worth anything. But the instant I changed out of wolf-form, she didn’t interest me anymore. You’re interesting no matter what form I’m in.
Zaya swallowed, a whole gamut of emotions rushing through her. “Oh.” She thought for a moment. “Even in lindworm form?”
“Even then.” His voice was muffled.
She paused. “So . . . no wolf form?”
“Maybe at the house,” he offered. “Right now, I like having arms. Hands. Lips. Other things.”
Date, any. Time, unknown.
Sophia painted on her walls. The vast figure of Jormangand, bursting out of the ground in the Mitsi'adazi area, near the Yellow Rock River. The vast currents of molten rock already in the area of the super-volcano, surging to new life, stirred by the world-serpent’s presence.
. . . Loki hovering in the air near the creature he called his son, begging the creature to stop its havoc, but he was late. Far too late. He had power, but his creation, part of himself, paid him no heed. The mad gods had besieged the world-serpent, tearing chunks out of his flesh for over a decade now, unheeded by the rest of the world . . . the serpent turned and snapped at Loki, and the god was grievously wounded, but finally, with Thor and Coyote’s aid, slew the giant creature. Thor and Coyote retreated, holding Loki between them, and fire and ash began to billow out of the earth where Jormangand had been, consuming the entire forest in the first twenty-four hours . . . .
. . . her door opened, and the nurse was there with her medications . . . why don’t they give me enough to stop the visions . . .
. . . she was at Delphi, taking her first pill of the day. Instant, blissful relief from the future . . . .
. . . she was in bed with a lover, and he’d just turned her over to take her from behind, gentle pressure promising the bliss of being filled, deeply, then panic . . . . No! No! Not this, never again, not this, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, STOP!
. . . she opened her eyes, hearing her own scream ring back from the walls. Saw the wary look on the nurse’s face as the woman edged away, her fingers near the call button on the wall . . .
She opened her eyes, and heard her own scream echo back from the walls, felt the pain in her own throat from the force of her cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you—” she told the nurse . . . .
—Hands, so many hands, all pushing her, shoving her, getting her into the restraints—
—Hands, so many hands, all grabbing her, seizing her, holding her in place, smell of human sweat, equine sweat, no, no, no, not this again not this again, I’ll be good!
Sophia looked up as the door to her room opened. “Fiery one. I was expecting you.”
Sophia looked up as the door to her room opened. “Fiery one.” She paused and blinked. “You . . . brought Mirrorshaper with you? I wasn’t . . . I wasn’t expecting . . .” Panic set in. “I wasn’t expecting him! I wasn’t expecting anyone but you!”
The godslayer’s warm
, dark eyes looked concerned, though her face was made of flame, constantly shifting and changing. An eternal dance, as she consumed herself from within. “Is it because Maccis is male? I know you’re only really comfortable with Master ben Maor and Master Matrugena, but Trennus is Maccis’ father—”
Sophia blinked. This was wrong. This was very wrong. She could see Zaya’s dark eyes, but she could also see the godslayer, whose eyes were violet pin-points inside a living body of flame. She knew that the godslayer was a male as tall as a titan, and not this slip of a girl . . . and yet she saw Zaya becoming . . . consumed by the Aether, consumed by Fate . . . . Sophia pushed her hands against her temples, trying to squeeze out the pain. There was a kind of gibbering panic that wasn’t her own fear. It was alien and it recoiled at the sight of Zaya.
The panicked sensation retreated after a moment, leaving her head . . . a little clearer. There was a comforting haze over her consciousness, which she identified, after a moment, as one of the antipsychotic drugs that the nurse had given her. They didn’t stop the visions, but they also had her on antidepressants, which were supposed to make her not care about what she saw. None of it worked. But when she came out of the visions, at least she got to relax for a moment—
—Zee, we’ve been hand-fasted since we were eighteen. We’ve lived together in this apartment for six years. I think . . . I think I’m ready to start a family.
You mean, if you survive. The Immortals are coming, Maccis—
I’ve fought them before. I’m going to survive. And I’m coming back to you.
I wish I could go with you. You, Rig, and Solinus. The knights of the air, they’re calling you.
You’re doing a lot, Zee. Half the research for the hydrogen spell came from your work in the archives—
—and look where that got us.
It’s held the Persians at bay for a couple of years . . . .
She blinked, pushing the future away. Sophia cleared her throat. “Maccis. I told your father once that you were going to be consumed by fire. I see you didn’t listen. They never do.”
Sidelong glances. The young man hadn’t expected to be called by name. Dark shadows of experience around his eyes, the too-fixed stare, suggested he’d seen much.
. . . actually, I asked Zhi and Erida . . . .
“Actually, I asked Zhi and Erida formally today for Zaya’s hand. They said I’d proved myself, so we’re being hand-fasted next month. I’m less concerned about him burning me alive these days.” Dry humor.
“Not him. His daughter.” Sophia’s head was pounding again. Something was amiss. “But why are you here, now? You’re supposed to be with the landsknechten. Training the lindworms now, that you and your brothers will ride . . . ”
“Deo and Caranti are flying with them.”
Sophia frowned. “No. You, Solinus, and Rig. You’re all learning to ride them . . . Rig wielding the Helsword from Rodor’s back, Solinus raining fire down from Scimar’s neck . . . .”
A faint frown. Fear, and a little anger in his eyes. Wariness. “No. I haven’t been with the landsknechten. I’ve been off with Fenris.”
Sophia shook in place. “The landsknechten have fenris with them . . . .“
Another puzzled frown, and he ignored the way Zaya tugged on his elbow. “No, I mean Fenrir Vánagandr. The packs just take their name from him. We’ve been in Germania, Novo Gaul, and Nahautl, unfortunately. Some crazy group of priests has decided that human sacrifices are their best bet at empowering their gods.”
Blind panic and total horror assailed Sophia. She hadn’t seen this. She hadn’t seen this. She was future and past and present, and none of them showed her this, she knew she’d never seen this, not ever, not once. Something had changed.
Something was different.
“You . . . you . . . you’re not supposed to . . . you were never supposed . . . what year is this?” Her voice rose in pitch and volume. “You were supposed to finish school and join Vidarr and Ima! Is this is 1994?”
“1993.”
She tugged at her hair. “The Wood has come to Judea, right? Why aren’t you where you’re supposed to be? Who changed this? How can anything change?”
Sound of feet in the hallway behind them. Zaya’s dark/flame-violet eyes widened, and her personal wards, regulated by her jewelry, activated. Maccis moved in front of Zaya, answering now, his voice calm, “It’s all right. When we treated with Fenris, I knew I was the only person there who could be a hostage for his fair-treatment by Valhalla. It was a snap decision, but—”
“You’ve ruined everything,” Sophia whispered. “Oh, gods, the deaths of billions could be on your shoulders.” She began to pace back and forth, her fingers locked in her hair, tugging at the roots. “If one thing changes, if it’s a small thing . . . maybe it doesn’t matter. But I put on my boots and there was a sixth centaur.” She whirled on him, and the young man pulled back, his skin twitching as his form threatened to shift, and kept himself between Zaya and Sophia. “Fool. She’s a godslayer. You don’t need to protect her and you certainly couldn’t protect me. You’ll mean nothing to her, once she becomes who she is. She’ll just be fire, and nothing more.”
“Wait, what?” Zaya pushed her way forwards, and Sophia’s vision skewed, melding between past and present and future. “Look, Sophia, I’ve visited you because it seems to help you. I’m not a godslayer. Maccis wouldn’t kill a billion people, and I love him. We didn’t ask you for your visions. Just . . . stop.”
“I’m the Pythia. I’m the last Pythia in existence. And I know what I see and what I see, sees me.” Sophia looked around at her painted walls. The images all leered at her, twisted themselves, and blinked out of existence. No future. Her reality shook. She sank down to a crouch, leaning against a wall that was blank and covered in murals at the same time. “If . . . if it’s just you that changed . . . maybe we’ll all have a chance. Maybe it’ll all end the way it’s supposed to. But if it doesn’t . . . .” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “Who brought you to Fenris?”
Maccis had his back to a wall now, pushing Zaya back out into the hall, where the nurses and orderlies were. “Aunt Sigrun and my mother.” He didn’t take his eyes off her.
—in a flash, a ball of white fur and teeth lunged at her, taking out her throat, and Sophia screamed, because she’d never seen this coming, either—
She choked, feeling the fangs in her throat, and then they were gone again. Maccis remained before her, his muscles tense and ready. “How did you meet with Fenris? Who was with you?”
“My mother, Rig, Ima, Sigrun, and Niðhoggr.”
“Who . . . which of them . . . which of them had the idea . . . who changed this . . . Fenris . . . was supposed to be fighting alone . . .until the end . . . he wasn’t going to survive . . . ” Sophia threw her head back and wailed. “Oh gods, gods. This was the only fork in the long road that didn’t end in complete destruction! Things can’t change! They can’t! They can’t!”
. . . the orderlies pushed their way in, and hands caught her, cool prick of an injection in her left arm . . . and when she woke up, Sigrun was there standing framed in the doorway . . . .
. . . and Sigrun was there standing framed in the doorway, and had a gift for her. Sophia already knew what it was . . . a Raccian nesting doll. She already knew she’d love it, but she’d lose the smallest doll, the one inside all the others, the only solid one, the real one, and she wouldn’t find it again ever, ever, ever . . . .
. . . and when she woke up, Sigrun was there, standing framed in the doorway. Her swan cloak was around her shoulders—if it’s Tuesday it must be Belgium, wait, what’s a Belgium? What’s a Tuesday?—and it was raven black, for some odd reason. “No, you did the right thing to call me. I was patching up casualties. Nothing Eir hasn’t managed on her own for thousands of years.”
“It’s my fault. I didn’t tell Maccis to let Sophia dictate conversation—”
“I let her direct the conversation. She asked, I answered.
I don’t even know what I did wrong.”
“I’ll deal with it.” Sigrun turned, and closed the door. Under the black cloak, Sophia could see overlapping scales of armor that looked like liquid night, moving into each other soundlessly . . . but when she looked up, her sister’s face was weary. “Well, you’re having a day of it, aren’t you, Sophia?” Sigrun took off her gauntlets brushed Sophia’s hair back from her face.
“Someone’s changed something! Sigrun, the future might not happen! I still see you walking the black road with the raven on your shoulder and the spear in your hand, but now there’s a golden chain around your wrist and a vast shadow over and through you.” Sophia struggled to sit up, and realized that she was restrained at four points. “Sigrun, it’s not possible, but people are changing things. If people keep changing things, the future might not happen. They could all die. You could die, and then there’ll be nothing left at all. Stop them! Stop them, while there’s still time—”
The Goddess Embraced (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 3) Page 44