The Descendants of Thor Trilogy Boxset: Forged in Blood and Lightning; Norns of Fate; Wrath of Aten

by S. A. Ashdown

The prisoner inside the cage rushed out, barging into the old woman. He received an electric shock from her baton for his trouble. ‘Try that again,’ she hissed, ‘I’ll throw you over the edge myself.’

  Menelaus watched as the prisoner limped down the stairs into the yard below. Another man approached and hoisted him onto the pedestal in the centre, attaching the rope to his hands, behind his back.

  Three figures, lit by torchlight, stepped up to the dais. ‘4608. Here we are again.’

  The man’s grimy face was smeared with tears. Menelaus fought the urge to rescue him, knowing they would never escape. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll start off easy. Tell us again, what is a landvættir, in your own words?’

  ‘Please…’ The word was agony, a wrench of the gut. The man behind 4608 tugged on the pulley and the prisoner’s face twisted with pain. ‘Okay,’ he gasped, ‘they’re as old as the Dawn of Light, when life started in the universe.’

  ‘Good, carry on.’

  ‘They’re made from stardust and were sent to the earth on meteorites. They are the spirits of the land.’

  ‘And the Elders? Who are they?’

  The prisoner struggled, his shoulders bunched high because of the rope. ‘It is said that the gods made the first landvættir, an experiment pre-mankind. The Elders were led by one, who was given the first dose of Vital Essence, the gods’ breath.’

  ‘What happened to the Elders?’

  ‘I already told you!’ Another tug, another scream. ‘Okay! They faded away, into the earth. But the first one, the leader, he remained. Over time, he took on corporeal form, though it’s said he can imitate any of Earth’s forces at will.’

  An icy chill crept up Menelaus’s neck.

  ‘Why did the gods put him here?’

  Sweat poured down the prisoner’s brow. ‘I’m no god, how do I know?’

  The main interrogator nodded. The rope hitched up sharply, dragging the prisoner up into the air. Menelaus drew back in shock. Suddenly, the rope was released. The man plunged back to the floor. Menelaus winced as he heard the pop of shoulders dislocating. Screams filled the courtyard. ‘You claim to be a prophet, 4608.’

  The assistant hauled the prisoner onto a chair, performing a manoeuvre that realigned the shoulders. Menelaus recognised it from his basic training. It wouldn’t fix the injury, only reduce it. His interrogators waited until his whimpering subsided. ‘The universe needs balance,’ he said, heaving between words, ‘to survive. The Elders are meant to protect the earth.’

  ‘To guard the Syphon.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  Cold silence radiated from the desk. ‘We read your papers, 4608. We know you developed a method to “collect” land-sprites, as you call them. Tell us.’ The man approached, pointing to the rope.

  ‘Diamonds! You need diamonds, freshly unearthed. Uncut,’ the prisoner said. The assistant paused, waiting for him to continue. ‘Then a ceremony, to summon the sprite. They like offerings.’

  ‘What kind?’

  ‘Anything. Go where the rivers cross, or the foot of a mountain range. You need a shaman to spot the sprite approaching. Place the diamonds at each compass point. A simple hex does the rest.’ He gripped his arms and groaned. ‘Please, no more.’

  ‘And the Elder?’

  The prisoner’s mouth contorted, lips sucking in as the tears came. ‘I can’t be sure,’ he sobbed, ‘but any cage will require many diamonds, crammed with captured sprites from across the globe. Sprites from the five elements.’

  ‘Thank you, 4608, you have been most helpful.’

  He nodded, whimpering. ‘I’m not even worth a number now,’ he said. ‘Gods forgive me.’

  Menelaus moved out of the way as the prisoner was carried upstairs and chucked back into his cell. I’ve got to find Jenny. He hadn’t seen everyone; some had been crouched in the corners when the trolley had passed. Slowly, as the men downstairs whispered to each other, Menelaus inspected the upper level, peering closely through the bars. He walked round twice, despondent. Better Jenny wasn’t here, either. He stopped by the door, itching for it to open.

  Then he noticed the small figure, sitting on the floor by the bars, the shadows wrapping round her like a cloak. He knelt. The hair was cropped short, greasy. Once his eyes adjusted, the girl’s features gained distinction. He recognised the gentle kink in her nose, the small, bunched mouth and chin. The other inmate seemed to be dozing – or catatonic – on the narrow cot at the back. ‘Jenny?’ he whispered.

  She jerked, eyes blinking. Her shoulders slumped and she lowered her head into her knees. ‘Jenny, it’s Laus. Toby is looking for you.’

  Jenny raised her head and squinted through the bars. ‘I can’t see anyone.’

  ‘I’m invisible,’ he said, glancing up and down the passage. No sign of the old woman. ‘I can’t get you out now but I’m coming back. I’ll get you out of here, I promise.’

  She seemed to process that. ‘Toby mustn’t come here. Once they catch him they’ll kill us both. Do you know, Laus? Do you know?’ It came out as a squeak, frantic.

  He reached through the bars and touched her hands. They trembled. ‘They only keep the ones with no active power in here,’ she said, ‘so we can’t break out. Please take me with you.’

  ‘There are guards outside,’ he said, ‘they’ll shoot us both.’

  The trolley clattered across the stone towards them. ‘I have to go,’ he said, ‘stay out of sight as much as possible. We’ll find a way.’ He squeezed her hands and shuffled to the other side of the door.

  Three loud knocks came a few minutes later. A flicker of light illuminated the ground. He pressed his back to the wall and slithered past the guards. The old woman shoved the trolley over the threshold, leaving Sandy to catch it.

  Menelaus used the noise to cover the distance between the guards and the lift. His heart hammered hard, echoing in his head. Surely they could hear it? He wanted to scream, take the guns, and shoot them all dead. It wasn’t fear that stopped him; that prison was a symptom of a grander problem. And Theo needed him. My little cousin, he thought, and his chest fluttered with warm, protective guilt.

  He glared at Sandy all the way up to the first floor. She went there every day; she had to know what was happening, even if she wasn’t allowed inside. They parted at a junction in the rock, Sandy choosing a route he didn’t recognise. He toyed with following her, to see who she spoke to, but Sven was upstairs and his absence would garner suspicion.

  Espen and Toby need to know. He’d have to rely on the warlock to stop Toby getting himself killed.

  26

  The Amulet

  ‘Life survives by eating its own tail. Life forms compete with life forms, and yet they descend from the same origin, growing and dying by Aten’s blessing. Life and death are therefore synonymous – to survive is to destroy.’

  —Extract from the Book of Aten

  Penny ambushed me as soon as I set foot inside the front door. I wanted to escape and chat with Raphael – he still had my amulet and I wanted to know why – and how – he’d stolen it. Why didn’t wards affect him? What made him so special that he could overcome Clemensen magic without blinking an eye?

  But Maria was stirring a great pot of freshly cooked pasta on the stove. I smelt the tangy sauce and fresh basil and placed a hand on my stomach. ‘Hey! Bacardi, Teflon, move away from the food!’ I shouted, as the couple edged towards the stove. Ricarda held a fork in mid-air. Sorry, but the Gatekeeper needs feeding.

  Maria dished up. I took the spoon and heaped an extra four onto my plate, until it threatened to roll off the side. Penny slid hers next to mine on the breakfast bar. I’d already gobbled several forkfuls. ‘Is great,’ I said to Maria, kissing my fingers and momentarily forgetting English grammar. ‘Bellissimo.’

  ‘Grazie.’

  The coven appeared one by one, joined by Strix in his rare human form, who still looked frighteningly owl-like and furry-chinned. Fenrir came scuttling into the kitchen, wagging his
tail and sniffing Strix’s ankles before whimpering. ‘Poor doggy is confused,’ I said, plucking the bread basket from Lori’s hands as she walked by. Fenrir snaffled a piece – I let him.

  ‘Let’s discuss Plan A,’ said Penny. The conversations around us died. Forks stopped scraping against plates.

  ‘Plan A. Michele getting me off the hook.’

  ‘What about us?’ said Arabella, snapping her jaws round a bit of pasta. ‘Maybe they drop charges, but where is our justice? All we suffered?’

  I glanced at Maria, who’d shared the story about her brother. ‘I can’t help you all if I’m stuck in prison. Perhaps we can deal with the corruption in the Praetoriani legally and ethically, you know, without killing anyone.’

  ‘Good, fantastic,’ said Penny – Arabella was busy glowering at me. ‘If we had time, limitless resources. How long do you think we have left to defend ourselves?’

  I rested the fork against the plate. ‘What are you so afraid of?’

  The question hung in the air. Penny crossed her legs over her stool and swivelled toward me. ‘Your father must have taught you. Akhen, the leader of the Praefecti, is no friend to Pneuma. He plays, he pretends, he persecutes. Our families have sacrificed to Hel for many centuries. We are finally strong enough. But we cannot spin her spells without Clemensen magic. Politics is not enough.’

  Father told me little. I didn’t even know I would become the Gatekeeper until I died – briefly – on my twenty-first birthday. His warnings often sounded like paranoia. I was starting to confuse the two myself. ‘Why does Akhen persecute us?’

  ‘Now you’re asking the right questions.’ She tapped her nails on the counter. ‘It has taken years to piece it together. Intercepting communications. Placing spies in his palace.’ She waved her hand over the witches and warlocks elbow-to-elbow, eating around us. ‘We are the descendants of the twelve most powerful families in Italy. The De Laurentis vampires have a long history undermining the Praefecti’s efforts. And you, Theo Clemensen, have the Northern Traditions at your fingertips. We have the perfect opportunity. We will not fail. This is our sacred mission, our destiny. And we are prepared to give our souls to Hel to liberate the Pneuma race.’

  ‘I’m not willing to trade my soul,’ I said.

  ‘We’re not asking you to. That is our burden, but we require the catalyst that only you can provide.’

  I got up and walked to the sink, taking time to drink a glass of water and compose my thoughts. ‘These spies. These communications you’ve intercepted, what have you discovered?’ I leant against the sink, trying not to imagine their souls being sucked into the underworld.

  ‘We believe,’ Penny said, ‘that the Akhen that rules today is not the descendant of the original founder of the embryonic Praefecti.’ She toyed with the pendant I had given her at our union ceremony. ‘He is the same man.’

  I snorted. ‘That would make him over three thousand years old.’ The faces around me were bleak. ‘What is he? A vampire?’

  ‘Definitely not. There are many theories. A cult surrounds him, worships him like a deity.’ Penny swallowed. ‘Some believe that he is human manifestation of the Midgard Serpent.’

  ‘What?’ My chest constricted. I clutched the draining board, turning away. The Midgard Serpent. The thing destined to swallow the world at Ragnarök – after killing the Gatekeeper. The end of the universe. The end that would come after the death of the Gatekeeper.

  I flashed back to the basement where I had been tortured. Where’s the amulet? The amulet, given by the goddess Freyja to the first Gatekeeper, a safety catch that prevented our untimely death. My torturers, who I suspected of working with the Praetoriani, were searching for the amulet. Odin, Thor, and Freyr, I thought, what if Akhen wants to destroy the amulet, kill me, and start Ragnarök? Billions of people will die. Raphael had fate in his hands – the boy who couldn’t be harmed, the boy destined to be captured – if Frigg’s prophecy was to be believed. That settled it. I needed to find the amulet in case someone pried it from Raphael’s ethereal fingers.

  ‘Theo?’ Penny’s hand came round my waist and pressed against my stomach. I felt faint. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘What else do you know?’ Her mouth grazed my shoulder. I thought about Ava and shifted round to face Penny, folding my arms.

  ‘Pneuma, it’s said, are the illegitimate daughters and sons of the Vanir and Aesir races, arising when gods and humans interbred, before the boundaries between the Nine Realms clarified. Akhen believes we settled on the wrong side of those boundaries. He believes in a different deity entirely.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Himself.’

  That didn’t make complete sense. If Akhen was what his worshippers supposed, what would be left after Ragnarök? What would Akhen gain if there was no one left to venerate him? ‘There are pieces missing in this puzzle,’ I said, ‘I’m going to find out what they are.’

  I strode across the kitchen and grabbed my cloak, clasping it around my neck. ‘Stay here,’ I told them, ‘I’ll be back shortly.’ I didn’t want them to follow me so I teleported to the bell tower, knowing Penny would not be able to sense me there.

  Lorenzo dived at me, snarling.

  ‘Hey!’ I shouted. ‘It’s me!’

  He let go of my cloak and cleared his throat, looking faintly embarrassed. ‘Sorry, you surprised me.’

  ‘Remind me not to throw you a birthday party,’ I said, adjusting the clasp over my chest. ‘I came to check in and speak to Raphael.’

  ‘What do you want, Clemensen?’ It was hard to distinguish Raphael’s voice from the chattering birds that had crowded the tower above. I had anticipated that, at least, which was why I placed the wards so far down the open tower, so they wouldn’t be so noticeable from the outside.

  ‘How much do you know about Akhen? Penny thinks he’s been around almost as long as you have.’

  He didn’t reply right away. He frowned, a tiny indent creasing his nose. The effect from Anchoring was wearing off but I could make out some of the glitter clumping all over the tower. His full mouth parted, about to speak, but Lorenzo cut in. ‘I told you, Theo. Toby thinks they’re looking for Raphael. And…something else, called the Syphon. Menelaus heard it all; he probably understood a lot more of it than me.’

  The Syphon. Had Akhen worked out the link between me and Raphael, whatever that was? The boy stood, his legs damp from kneeling by the pottery fountain. ‘I am troubled,’ he said. ‘Theo, I see that you know why.’

  Lorenzo’s grey eyes flitted between us, then widened. ‘Holy shit,’ he said, ‘Theo, are you the Syphon?’ He shook his head. ‘What am I saying? I’m going mad. How can a person be…?’

  The moment had arrived. Did I trust him? Even if I did, what information could Malachi get out of him? I can’t risk it, I thought. ‘Trust me, Lorenzo,’ I said. ‘It’s better you don’t know the full truth. Not yet, okay?’

  He nodded. ‘Right.’

  ‘It’s for everyone’s safety,’ I said.

  ‘But you don’t trust me?’

  ‘Can I? When you can’t even tell me where you’ve been?’

  He lowered his eyes. ‘I’m hungry,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back dreckly.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, but he didn’t acknowledge me. He walked to Raphael and kissed his cheek, and left.

  I paced around the small courtyard. ‘You’ve stolen the amulet many times before, haven’t you? From Uncle Nikolaj, from Espen. Why do you keep taking it?’

  ‘I do not steal,’ said Raphael, edging towards the ivy. ‘Not steal, no, I guard it, until I am sure.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘That the Gatekeeper won’t use his power to dominate the Nine Realms. The amulet keeps you safe, Theo, but the mind can be swamped with such magic. History warns us that madness and ability combined threatens all.’ Raphael’s sigh transformed into a whistle. ‘There must be a counterbalance, a threat. I am the only one who knows how to destroy the amulet.’

 
‘But if the Gatekeeper dies, the Nine Realms will be destroyed.’

  Raphael pursed his lips. ‘This is what you don’t understand. Civilisation as you know it, across the Nine Realms, will disintegrate. Ragnarök, as your family calls it, will destroy all but Yggdrasil itself. The World Tree will renew and start again. Spring follows every winter, Gatekeeper. Better nothing than the Realms enslaved, and a chance to start afresh.’

  Sweat broke out on my forehead although it was cool in the tower. ‘When I found out what I was,’ I said, ‘I read about Ragnarök and the new age meant to follow it. Are you saying that’s true? Something else will come afterwards?’

  ‘It’s a theory,’ said Raphael. ‘No one – not even the gods – can say what the regrowth of Yggdrasil will look like. It hasn’t happened for billions of years.’

  ‘But Akhen wants that for some reason. He must believe he’ll survive Ragnarök.’ Frigg’s prophecy played out again in my head. ‘Who else would want to trap you, Raphael, but him? Only you can destroy the amulet. Maybe he’s found a way to make you pass your knowledge to him. Then he can kill me. Then Ragnarök will begin.’ The thoughts inundated my mind. ‘Why would he desire such a thing? Does he believe that he will be the new Gatekeeper? Does he want to rebuild the Nine Realms to suit his vision?’ I threw my arms into the air. ‘Madness and ability…and opportunity. I’m on trial; he has the opportunity. There’s no way I’ll be found innocent. This is why the Praetoriani want the amulet; Akhen wants it. Yet if I run, they have cause to pursue me. It’s like the witch trials all over again.’

  I spun around to face Raphael but he’d hidden in the vines. ‘I didn’t mean to raise my voice,’ I said. My stomach lurched; how was this eternal youth meant to cope with confinement, interrogation, and possibly torture? ‘What do you think he wants?’

  ‘He does not believe in our gods, Clemensen. I am not here for him. I am here for the Gatekeeper. The amulet is safe.’

  ‘Is it? Because it won’t be if Akhen has his way. What do I have to do to prove myself to you? I’m not evil, Raphael.’