Daughter of Rage and Beauty (Berserker Academy Book 1)

by Amy Pennza

  It carried me on a wave of sound, over the body of the man I loved and straight into the face of the man I despised.

  The song was vengeance.

  I raised the staff. It had a song, too.

  It was the ancient, bell-like music of the forest and field. It was a wild, wonderful, wicked song. Neither good nor evil.

  It just was.

  It was all magic—everything from Underhill. The rush of it filled my lungs as I sailed through the air, vengeance on my tongue and in my throat.

  And since it was all magic, it wasn’t confined to berserker or Fae.

  It could be witch magic if it wanted to.

  So I opened my mouth. “SCINTILLA!”

  Harald flew into the wall, smacking his head on the stone. He sprang away immediately, fury in his face.

  “That was a big mistake,” he growled. He lifted his hands, the Eternity Stone clenched in one palm.

  Green vines trailed along the ground. The remnants of Radegast’s flower arrangements.

  The staff pulsed under my hand.

  Yes, I told it. They can sing with us.

  The vines moved, their heart-shaped leaves turning toward me. “My lady. We are yours to command.”

  A laugh formed in my mind. Ah, yes. I’d inherited the power to command green, growing things.

  I pointed the staff at Harald. Words—I don’t know which ones—fell from my lips. “This one, my friends.”

  The vines shivered, then swept up Harald’s legs.

  “Wh-What!” He backed into the wall. “What is this foul magic?”

  I turned and walked to the front of the banquet table. My hair fluttered around me, the white waves caressing my shoulders in a graceful dance. Power hummed in my veins, ready to flow wherever I directed it.

  I pointed the staff at the table. “Put him here.”

  Harald hollered. “What are you saying? Are you doing this?”

  The vines climbed his body, wrapping tight around his arms, his legs, his torso. They picked him up and carried him around the table, depositing him in front of me. His arms and legs were splayed away from his body, the plants binding him completely. Vines crossed his forehead, forcing his head back. His body was a sea of green, save for his face.

  Good. I wanted to see it when I killed him.

  I positioned myself in front of him. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see moss creeping up my neck. There was more of it now.

  No matter. I wasn’t Elin anymore. I wasn’t anything, not with Hauk gone from the world.

  Harald squirmed in his bonds, his icy blue eyes glittering with malice. “You stupid nymph whore! Your plants can’t harm me! I have the Eternity Stone.” He managed to shift his hand. The stone gleamed between his curled fingers.

  I rested the tip of the staff on the ground. “I’ve taken it from one man today. I think I’ll make it two for two.”

  His gaze went to the staff, and fear shone in his eyes. Then he focused on me. “You can’t kill me. I’m your father.”

  A raven hopped onto his shoulder. It stared at me a moment, then lifted into the air and sailed high overhead, black wings spread.

  Then it wheeled and plunged toward me.

  And changed shape.

  One minute, a bird swooped at me. The next, a man with waist-length white hair stepped onto the flagstones. He wore a black patch over his right eye. The other was a deep, bold blue.

  His clothes were modern yet timeless—a sleeveless tunic that showed off rippling muscles, and tight leather pants that hugged powerful legs. His feet were bare, and gold bracelets climbed up his forearms. His hair was arranged in intricate plaits that swung around his shoulders. A platinum-blond beard covered his jaw, small silver beads tucked here and there in the mass.

  He was neither young nor old. Humans would have called him beautiful. And terrible.

  And he glowed. A faint blue light surrounded him like an aura.

  We stared at each other. A beat of recognition thumped inside me, like someone had plucked a lute in my soul.

  “You know me,” he said, his deep voice soft and full of power.

  “No.”

  His mouth didn’t smile, but something about his face was amused. “You do, Elin. Think harder.”

  The lute vibrated again. My soul shivered. A tear slipped down my cheek.

  He spoke, his gaze still holding mine. “What will you do with him?”

  I didn’t have to ask whom he meant. I just knew. The same as I knew exactly what and who he was to me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He killed my mother.”

  The blue eye showed pain. “And others.”

  “How could you let that happen?” My voice was that of a child struggling to understand an unjust world.

  “I don’t control fate. That is the domain of the Norns.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I said. “I changed my fate.”

  The brow of his good eye lifted. “Did you?” He gestured around the wrecked Great Hall. “Or did you end up exactly where you were supposed to be?”

  No. I couldn’t believe that. I gripped my staff—no longer the staff. Now it was mine. “We still have free will.”

  “Ah.” He smiled, and his face looked impossibly young. “That we do. And what a strong will it takes to fight one’s fate.”

  My voice was a whisper. “Why did you leave me alone?”

  The mighty chest rose and fell. His words grew more accented, his pronunciation precise. “It is a difficult thing to be the child of a god. History is filled with examples of those who suffered for it.” He turned his head a little, as though he wanted to look at me straight on. “And I didn’t leave you alone. I’ve watched over you, here and there.”

  The raven on the Dragon Tower . . .

  He nodded. “And I sent you friends and helpers. Fiona to teach you tenderness. Asher Greenleaf to show you the power of living things.” He looked at Nils’ body. “That one to show you that love is more than lust, and that friendship can sometimes be more powerful than both.”

  An ache shot through my heart. “Can you bring him back? Father?”

  He looked at me, Odin the All-Father. My father. “I cannot, daughter.” He touched the patch over his eye. “I sacrificed much to learn what lies beyond. Not even I can venture there. And those who sail to those lands can’t return.”

  Bitterness welled inside me. “His death was senseless.”

  “He died exactly how he wanted to. He saved your life.”

  I couldn’t control my angry huff. “How?

  Odin turned his head, his gaze on some distant point. He spoke, his voice vague and faraway. “I’ve seen the alternate outcome. Without his sacrifice, Harald would have killed you.”

  I looked in the direction he stared. A shadowy scene appeared, like a movie played on an old-fashioned projector. In it, Harald stepped through a portal, no Nils in sight. I rushed at him, the dagger held high. He swung his sword.

  It caught me in the side of the head, cleaving my skull in half.

  Nausea burned my throat as I watched my shadow self fall to the ground.

  The scene disappeared.

  Odin looked at me. “You see, daughter. Nils saved you. His death was far from senseless.”

  “And my mother? Was she supposed to die the way she did?”

  Anger—breathtaking and terrible—clouded his face. He turned to Harald, acknowledging him for the first time.

  Harald shrank in his bonds, his face going pale.

  When Odin spoke, thunder crashed through the hall. “I gave Caitríona Greenleaf into your care for safekeeping, along with the child I got on her.”

  Harald pushed his head forward—as much as he was able to. “And I was promised immortality in return!”

  “You should have been patient, Berregaard.”

  “How long was I supposed to wait?” Harald snapped, apparently emboldened by his anger over not getting his heart’s desire. He turned cold eyes to me. “And your child brou
ght nothing but dishonor to my house. Her rage burns out of control. She’s unfocused and weak.”

  Odin put a hand on my shoulder. Some of his hair brushed mine. Side by side, the strands were indistinguishable from each other. “She is the daughter of lightning,” he told Harald. “And she is young. When she draws power, she pulls it directly from Asgard. It will take her centuries to master it.”

  My jaw dropped. Centuries? I looked at my father—my real father. “You mean I’m . . .” I didn’t even really know what I was asking.

  But he did. “You are as I am,” he said, kindness and what might have been pride in his voice. He passed a big hand down the air in front of my body, then made a snatching motion. “Look!”

  It was as if he tore away an invisible veil.

  Light exploded around me.

  It took me a second to realize it came from me.

  I held up a hand, which glowed a faint blue. And something was . . . different. I felt funny.

  My ears. I lifted glowing hands to either side of my head. Where my ears had been ordinary and rounded before, now they rose to a point. I touched the tips. Shivering, trembling sparks shot through me. I whipped my hands down.

  Odin chuckled. “It’ll take some getting used to. Glamour is a bit like putting on a coat. You can wear as many different disguises as you wish, but most of us settle into something familiar and comfortable.”

  Us. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged to something special. It was almost like . . . a family.

  A choking noise drew my attention.

  Harald watched me, his eyes narrowed. His gaze swept me with his typical scorn. “Whatever else you are, you’ll always be a half-breed. Nothing more than a filthy, slutty nymph.”

  Ugh. He really was such a bitch.

  Odin spoke again, more thunder in his voice. “You raise a good point, Berregaard. You still haven’t answered for the nymph you killed. She was precious to me, and her child more so. You took a life that was not yours to take.”

  I tensed. He spoke of my mother as “the nymph.” What had she been to him? A fling?

  He turned to me, his words for me alone. “She was my beloved for a time. Her love was freely given, as was mine.” He brushed my cheek—the one Harald had struck. As his hand moved over my skin, the pain faded. He smiled. “You are as Crom called you. Daughter of rage and beauty.”

  Crom.

  Hauk.

  My beloved.

  Odin nodded. “Caitríona told you I approached. I am here now. You have a choice to make.”

  The stone.

  My mother had known.

  “Yes,” Odin said. “She bent the rules so she could warn you.” He gave a little shrug, a gesture that seemed out of character for an all-powerful god. “Mothers tend to get special passes for that sort of thing.”

  Pain lanced my chest. “But the mirror. She spoke to me, directly to me. So she can’t be dead.”

  His blue eye softened, and his voice gentled. “She is. You can’t bring her back.”

  “Yes, I can.” I glanced at Harald. “I can use the Eternity Stone. That’s what I came here for.”

  Odin’s gaze burned. “What about Hauk Sigridsson?”

  My lips parted. “You have a choice to make.”

  From the moment I’d barged into Hauk’s study and told him I’d go with him, I’d had a choice.

  My fate had been set. I’d just nudged it into motion.

  “Easy decisions first,” Odin said. “What will you do with Berregaard?”

  I turned my head slowly, my gaze falling on Harald bound by the vines. Too cowardly to risk his own skin, he’d murdered everyone I cared about.

  I walked forward. Odin fell into step at my side.

  “No!” Harald writhed in the vines, jerking his limbs. “No! You can’t do this!” He looked at Odin. “I raised her for you! I gave her everything!”

  The staff heated under my hand. I looked at Odin.

  He turned his head all the way toward me, pinning me with his good eye. In his pupil, a tiny raven threw back its head and cried into the sky.

  I faced straight ahead, power humming in my veins. “He has few redeeming qualities,” I told my father, the god of poetry and death. “He deserves to die.”

  “So be it,” Odin said.

  Harald squirmed. “No!”

  I focused on the vines. “Kill him.”

  They bowed—first to Odin, then to me. “My lord. My lady.” The green slithered tighter, stringing across Harald’s throat. He gurgled.

  Tighter.

  A thin red line appeared like a smile around his neck. Blood seeped from the gruesome grin.

  The vines pulled tighter. And tighter.

  He screamed.

  Tighter, and the vines sliced through his neck with a great crack. His head fell back onto the table, bounced, and disappeared.

  “Gross,” I whispered.

  Odin shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”

  Power rushed over my skin, making me suck in a breath. Without even knowing how I did it, I threw up a protective barrier. My glamour slammed into place like a shield, snuffing out my glow.

  Odin smiled. “You’re a fast learner, daughter. It will be a joy to watch you spread your wings.”

  The vines on the banquet table shivered.

  We both looked toward Harald’s body.

  Deep in the vines, Harald’s hand opened. The Eternity Stone plinked to the ground.

  “Such a small thing,” Odin said, “to cause so much trouble.”

  I went to it and picked it up. It was rather unremarkable, like someone had painted an ordinary rock with metallic paint. There was a tiny hole in the top, probably put there by someone who’d thought to wear the stone like jewelry, as Radegast had.

  “Have you made your choice?” Odin asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Be quick about it,” he urged. “The stone corrupts.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. Radegast’s madness was still fresh in my mind. I rushed to Hauk and knelt by his side. He was still, his body cold. There was a round hole in his chest, directly above his heart. I placed the stone there.

  Then I realized I had no idea what to do next.

  “Um, Father?”

  Odin’s bare feet appeared under the edge of the tablecloth. He walked around until he reached the spot where Hauk lay.

  “You can call me Dad, you know. Most of your half-siblings do.”

  I bit my lip. “Thanks, but I might need some time to get used to it. Maybe an every other weekend sort of thing. And summer vacations.”

  He nodded. Then he looked at the stone on Hauk’s chest. “Just tell it what you want it to do. Don’t elaborate. With magic, simple and to the point is best.”

  Simple and to the point. Okay. I took a deep breath. “I want Hauk Sigridsson to be alive again.”

  Nothing happened.

  My heart sank. What the hell? The stone worked for Radegast and not me? The guy who got turned on by talking about how great his parties were?

  Hauk’s eyes flew open.

  I fell on my ass.

  Odin laughed.

  Hauk sucked in a huge breath and sat up. “Elin?”

  I stared at him, love overflowing my being. His skin was pale, but he was alive. I felt the hole in his shirt. The skin underneath was smooth and whole. I threw my arms around him, squeezing his shoulders.

  “Yes!” I cried in his ear. “It’s me. It’s you! You’re back, Hauk!”

  He brought his arms up and put them around me. “Back?” he asked, his voice bewildered. “Did I go somewhere?”

  I pulled away, my hands on his face. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “I thought I lost you.”

  “No,” he said, his eyes filled with love. “I’m right here, baby.”

  On impulse, I pulled his face toward me and rained kisses on his cheeks, his nose, the side of his neck.

  He tolerated it for a second, then drew back, laughing. Then he sucked in a
sharp breath and winced.

  “Oh gods, are you hurt?” I patted around his chest and ribs.

  “No, no.” He grabbed my hands, holding me still. “Just sore.” He sobered. “Things are starting to come back to me.”

  Apprehension made my throat go dry. “What do you remember?”

  “You got the stone from Radegast,” he said, respect in his voice.

  My hands trembled. “I had to use it to save your life, Hauk. You were dead.”

  He opened his mouth. “What—” He looked down at my shirt as if just seeing it for the first time. “You are covered in blood.”

  I followed his gaze, then tugged my shirt away from my stomach. “I know. It was a whole thing.”

  “It’s hot.” His voice deepened. “Like really hot.”

  My gaze collided with Odin’s over his head. All at once, I realized my own father—in the form of a bird—had witnessed me saunter around the Great Hall with no shirt on.

  “No worries,” he said, waving it off. “I once got advice from a severed head.”

  Hauk froze, then turned and looked over his shoulder. His voice grew faint. “Is that . . .?”

  Odin bent and picked something up from the ground. He straightened, the Eternity Stone winking in his hand. He tossed it in the air a few times, as if it were no more significant than a marble. On the fourth toss, it seemed to disappear in his hand.

  He winked at Hauk and me. “Better to take this out of circulation for a while. I know a well I can toss it in.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “The Well of Urd?”

  “It’s as good as any.”

  Hauk still stared, his jaw slightly open. “Elin? Is that—”

  “Yes,” I said. “And it’s a long story.”

  “But—”

  I pulled his head back around. “We’ll write it in our sagas. For now, just kiss me.”

  His eyes lit up. “If me nearly dying makes you like this, I’m going to do it every day.” He grabbed the back of my head and pressed his mouth to mine.

  I smiled against his lips. Yes, we had quite a story.

  And I had a feeling it was only the beginning.

  Epilogue

  “Are you finished yet?” I drummed my fingers on the armrests of one of Hauk’s chairs, little puffs of dust shooting into the air.