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

by S. A. Ashdown

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘A meeting,’ he said.

  ‘With who?’

  ‘The Syphon.’

  ‘You must be joking.’

  ‘Pity, I have information he wants.’

  Ava hesitated. ‘And what’s in it for you?’

  Akhen adjusted his bright yellow robe, stroking the tassel around his waist. ‘Long ago, my wife was stolen from me. I have scoured the Nine Realms but I haven’t caught so much as a glimpse of her. I want her back.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Ava said.

  ’There is one realm I have not been able to access, Seer. Loki and Hel are protective of their domain. I believe they hold captive a soul whom you and the Syphon also hold dear.’

  Menelaus.

  ‘That’s right.’

  He can hear my thoughts?

  Of course I can, Seer. We are inhabiting the same mental realm.

  Ava scrambled to her feet. ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘Relax,’ Akhen said, waving her protest away. ‘I have gleaned all I require from your defenceless sapien brain already. No, the Syphon and I can help one another. He knows what happened to my beloved wife, and if he doesn’t, that beast inside of him does. We shall meet and conduct a joint venture.’

  Ava folded her arms and slouched into one hip. ‘Why can’t we exchange information like we’re doing now?’

  ‘Negotiation should be conducted face-to-face, to ensure no outside force interferes with the message. I think you’ll agree that this matter is too important to risk Hel’s tampering.’

  ‘Right. And what’s to stop you attacking us?’

  Akhen sighed and stood up, shaking the sand off the blanket and rolling it up. He leant down and picked up a beetle that had been hiding underneath the cover.

  ‘I’m not your enemy, as you assume. Have I not guarded Pneuma over the centuries? Those that lost their powers deserved it; Theo’s little coven accuse me of persecuting their kind, and yet the Syphon himself was forced to contain Penny’s darkness, lest it threaten the safety of innocents. Think on that, Seer, and consider how different your beau and I are.’

  ‘You want to destroy the Nine Realms,’ Ava said.

  ‘Do I? Who told you this? If you take the word of a De Laurentis, you’re more ignorant than I hoped. I have ruled happily in Cairo for millennia – I am no world-hungry tyrant. I am simply a threat to the Clemensens’ power, and they don’t like it. It’s wrong that the gods attempt to interrupt the natural cycles of life and death to defend the Syphon. That’s why I took the amulet. It is a flawed system they put in place. I simply wish to correct that system, fix its bugs, if you will.’

  Akhen squished the beetle between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Don’t worry, Seer. This is an illusion. No animals were harmed in the making of it.’ He smiled. ‘Then again, we all must squish a few insects if we are to travel any great distance. The destination is worth the while.’

  ‘Where and when do you want to meet?’ Ava asked, deciding to humour him.

  ‘Oh, your Syphon can choose. I hear trust isn’t his forte. You should find it easy enough to contact me.’ He licked the beetle’s blood off his fingers. ‘If you’re thinking you can use our bond to spy on me, don’t. Aten shields my mind with His Glorious Light – I’d hate for yours to be incinerated by it.’

  ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘Yes, you can go.’ He flicked his wrist in her direction and she flew backwards as if punched in the gut by a cannonball. The desert disappeared and she fell into the void.

  ‘Ava?’

  ‘I feel like I’ve been hit by a train,’ Ava groaned, adjusting once again to her surroundings – a bit hard when Theo’s golden curls were spilling over her face. He kissed her several times on the mouth and nose. ‘Where am I now?’

  ‘In the tower. Can you believe it,’ he said, sitting up, ‘this used to be Uncle Nikolaj’s “prison”?’

  Ava narrowed her eyes. The bed she occupied was piled high with soft, woven blankets, matching the ankle-deep rugs cushioning the flagstone floor. She followed Theo’s gaze to the torch-lit walls as he squeezed her hand. Fine, hand-drawn murals of Alfheim wildlife decorated the entire chamber. ‘Nikolaj’s handiwork?’

  ‘I think so. What happened, where did you go?’

  ‘Akhen. He formed a psychic connection with me.’ She described the pyramids, his proposition, leaving out his criticism of Theo and his behaviour towards his own coven. If she was honest, that did bother her. Whatever Penny had done, did she really deserve to be trapped in a magic mirror because she chose the wrong man, even if that was symptomatic of her life choices? Shouldn’t Theo have looked past his grief and brought his coven back into the fold, ensuring their safety from Hel and Loki?

  Ava, they chose to become monsters. And Penny would’ve kept on killing. His imagined response quelled her worries for a moment, but then again, Penny would’ve made a useful ally against the likes of Akhenaten.

  ‘So, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m talking to them,’ Theo said, and he looked away. His cheeks twitched, and his whole body seemed to hum. ‘My ancestors know what happened to Queen Nefertiti,’ he said, his voice dark. ‘Some of it, anyway. But why should I trust him, or give him anything? He has taken everything from me.’

  ‘So we’re just going to abandon our chance to save Menelaus?’

  ‘Whatever happens, we’ll get him back, Ava. I swear it. He’s my blood.’

  ‘Okay. Well, you’re not going alone – Syphon or not. We better talk to the others.’ Ava swung her legs out of bed. ‘Don’t dawdle, we’ve got a plan to make.’

  ‘Yes, Princess,’ Theo said, following her out of the tower.

  9

  Down Under

  Cast from Asgard for his sacred crimes,

  Chained to the serpent beneath the sea,

  Loki writhed and sought its ear,

  Whispering secrets to make the beast hear,

  As they circled the world for centuries.

  —Hel’s Lament: Stanza Two

  ‘If I cannot move heaven, I will raise Hel.’ Loki threw Menelaus an apple – the first piece of food he’d seen that wasn’t rotten – and gestured for him to eat. ‘Philosopher-poets rarely utter such clear imperatives.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re exactly who Virgil had in mind,’ Menelaus scoffed, sniffing the apple’s skin. His stomach rumbled. His human side wasn’t completely dead either, then. ‘And where is Virgil’s soul abiding – the Isles of the Blessed or Tartarus?’

  Loki handed the heavy fruit bowl to Rosalia. ’Take that to the table by the window. Epicurus teaches us to always eat in company, in genteel surroundings. Good for the digestion!’

  ‘And I’m sure he meant overlooking a lake of tortured souls,’ Menelaus said dryly, ‘and dining on a table made of bones.’

  ‘Details. Come. Sit. We have much to discuss.’

  Rosalia took the chair adjacent to Loki, who took the prime spot opposite the window, so Menelaus occupied the other end.

  ‘So do I, as it happens,’ Menelaus said, ‘have lots to discuss, I mean. First, where can I get some clothes that aren’t stained by the guts of those I slew in Hellingstead?’ He gave into his hunger and bit into the apple. It was sour.

  ‘In my opinion, it’s an improvement on your natural odour.’

  ‘It’s a wonder you can smell anything living in this dungeon of death.’

  ‘I haven’t lived here forever.’ He clicked his fingers, and a hideous giant came trundling into the hall – carrying a harp like it was a toothpick. ‘Ah, Eggther, play for us!’

  The giant bowed and sat on something Menelaus had previously assumed was a storage cabinet.

  ‘He’s good,’ said Menelaus, surprised. He listened as the giant sung about Loki’s past, the hair on his forearms prickling when he heard the part about Loki and the Midgard Serpent being bound together. Nothing good could’ve come of that.

  He’d let his gua
rd down; Loki was watching him, examining his every twitch. He was so entranced that Rosalia’s absence had been lost on him. By the time he’d noticed she’d gone, she was striding back across the hall with a bundle of fresh clothing.

  ‘They smell like spring,’ he said.

  ‘You mean they don’t smell of rotting flesh.’ Rosalia laughed. It died in her throat when she locked eyes with Loki.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, touching her hand briefly. ‘How did you end up here?’ he asked, after Loki swivelled around in his chair to listen to Eggther – who smelled as equally sulphuric as his name.

  She pushed the heavy fruit bowl in front of him. ‘Please eat. I don’t know when you’ll have another chance.’

  Menelaus finished his apple, changing his clothing between bites, making a mental note to find some relatively clean water to wash his chainmail in as he intended to keep that on. Rosalia filled him a goblet of yet more blood, her expression unperturbed. God knows what she usually serves up. ‘Rosalia, why are you in the Underworld?’

  ‘Hel took me from Charon’s boat, after I was killed by Akhenaten’s men. Though, he went by a different name during that particular inquisition. I’m leverage against my father.’ She placed her hand on her chest. ‘How is he?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, ‘I don’t know what became of him after the battle. He doesn’t strike me as the type to go down easily. Especially not down under. Is there any way to see what’s going on up there?’

  ‘Midgard, yes,’ she said. ‘But it’s not easy.’

  ‘How?’

  She pointed out of the window to the mountain in the distance. ‘They say one can observe the Nine Realms from its peaks. It is not really a mountain at all, but one of Yggdrasil’s many roots. A pool of water swirls at its foot, connected to the Well of Urd. I have tried many times to get there.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bother trying,’ Loki said, raising his voice above the music. ‘Hvergelmir’s spring was long ago poisoned by my dear ex-wife. Burn your skin clean off, it will.’

  That was a spanner in the works. Perhaps with his invisibility, getting to the spring was possible, but sizzling in a vat of acid didn’t appeal. A-peel, he thought, snickering to himself. Theo would’ve liked that pun. What do I mean, ‘would’ve’? I’m the one who’s dead – sort of – not him.

  ‘My master likes to be dramatic,’ Rosalia said. ‘Is it not true that they say the pure of heart can travel unharmed through Yggdrasil’s pools?’

  ‘Hearsay, girl.’ His stony green eyes silenced her. ‘The real question is, my little De Laurentis twins, what are you willing to do to escape Helheim?’ He dismissed the harp-playing giant, and poured the remainder of his drinking chalice into the now empty fruit bowl. He waved his hand over the red liquid, and it began to bubble. ‘Tell me, Guardian, how does your cousin respond to desperate pleas for help?’

  10

  A New City

  1346 BC – During the reign of Pharaoh Akhenaten

  ‘Do you not approve of my dancing girls?’ Nefertiti caressed her husband’s knee. ‘Has Aten in his glorious wisdom decreed them frivolous also?’

  She was teasing him, of course. Her fondness of doing so in public was growing wearisome, but as long as she remained the exception, his rule was sound. ‘It is for His glory that they dance,’ Akhen said.

  ‘And you are His representative. Thus if they please you, they must also please Aten.’

  He twirled his wrist in the air. A servant mistook it for a signal to empty the remainder of the amphora into his cup, but that was hardly an unfortunate consequence.

  ‘They do please me,’ he said. Nefertiti’s lack of jealousy had been another not unpleasant outcome of their marriage. ‘I am restless and tired,’ he admitted, and the truth was that it was Nefertiti herself who would entertain the dancing girls tonight. ‘Aten has divulged his plans, and I fail to see how it is possible to accomplish such a number of supreme works in one lifetime.’ Founding a new city in his Master’s name, away from the corrupt cesspit of the capital, was only the beginning.

  ‘The fits have returned, haven’t they, husband? Isn’t that why you are in such a hurry to construct the temple?’

  ‘My Queen, sometimes a father makes difficult demands of his son.’

  She leaned across the space between them, holding up a silken fold to hide her mouth. ‘What is it Aten demands? When will He release his grip on your body?’

  Akhen bit into a fig, but the flesh tasted mushy. ‘The traitor gods have banished Aten to the Middle World. Amun has stolen his rightful throne, and their spawn are allowed to sully our land. It must stop, Titi. Our people must cease worshipping the idols.’ He sighed, longing to retire to his private chamber, alone with her ministries. But Aten was always watching, steadfast. ‘The pharaoh must rid the plague from Egypt.’

  ‘I shall never have you to myself,’ she said. ‘And you wonder why I keep these courtesans?’ She clicked her fingers, and a slender limbed beauty slipped onto his wife’s knee, running her peasant fingers through the midnight hair of his divine companion. He tried to feel love, a touch of passion perhaps – but his mind had been scorched by flame, and the Nile itself could not put that burning out.

  1341 BC

  ‘Faster!’ Nefertiti commanded. The chariot driver squeezed his shoulder blades together, the only way he dared to show his tension. ‘I need to escape this infernal heat. I doubt our daughters are faring much better.’ She glanced at the chariot behind them.

  ‘I have planted trees to shade the Royal Road,’ Akhen said. ‘Is that not enough? Aten isn’t to be feared. His light will not burn you.’

  ‘I admit, husband, He does appear to be heeding your prayers. His power grows by the day. Perhaps we should avoid overdoing the libations today, in case we cause another drought.’

  ‘I am not worried, Titi. The Mother Nile shares her milk freely.’ He gestured to the great river running parallel to the road. ‘Aten’s strength is our strength.’ Even so, he was glad to reach the shaded court the priests called the House of Rejoicing.

  He led his family into the colonnaded pavilion and through the crimson colour of the first pylon. It pleased Nefertiti to examine the limestone images of their family carved into the pillars.

  Small groups of priests and priestesses bowed as they passed through a series of open-air courtyards, until at last they reached the High Altar. The sight of the three hundred and sixty-five mud-brick altars surrounding it filled his heart with righteous joy as the burning incense infused the air.

  Nefertiti tapered away to speak with her women, and the offerings were brought forward for him and his wife to lay upon the High Altar. Akhen breathed in, prepared to address the people gathered for the ceremony. ‘For the Glory of the Magnificent Aten, whose Light finds us wherever we may hide. May all who refuse Him perish under Aten’s wrath!’

  The sun-blinded choir raised their voices to the spotless sky, joined by Nefertiti’s soaring lead.

  From the Primal God the world came to be,

  Scattering His offspring across the seas,

  But some forgot his light and chose the night,

  The traitors claimed power, they chose blasphemy.

  We are His true children, and we obey our Father,

  The traitor-gods and their unclean spawn,

  All those who turn against Aten to worship idols,

  Shall perish under His fiery scorn,

  Do not fight Him, do not forsake Him,

  After the end comes, the faithful are reborn.

  Akhen’s long limbs shook with pleasure as he listened to the glorious music and watched the priest place the consecrated food and drink around the mud-brick altars.

  His faithful followers would feast in the temple until the food was gone or soured, the nutrients sucked up by Aten’s rays. Nefertiti took his hand. He grinned, unable to contain his excitement as his princesses rattled their sistra. ‘All is well,’ he said, ‘Aten is pleased.’

  His
legs gave out from beneath him, and he toppled off the mounted platform. Not here. Not now. He was blinded as his body spasmed, his tongue swelling inside his mouth.

  Aten was not pleased.

  Akhen was too complacent, too lazy. He preferred his daily union in his wife’s bedchamber to preparing his mind to become the empty chalice it needed to be. Find the Syphon. Destroy the Syphon. Always, Aten said this. Always. It still meant nothing to Akhen. Aten saw all from his mighty seat, did he not? What could Akhen uncover that his divine father couldn’t?

  The warning struck him. In the distance, he could hear his beloved wife proclaiming his condition a direct connection to the deity. The truth was more complicated. Aten fuelled the visions, that was correct, but it was the goddess of the Nile that had provided this looking-glass through which to view the sun’s rays and not have his sight seared away. His divine parents were warning him. Destroy the Syphon, or the Syphon will slaughter his Queen in the very centre of his cherished city.

  11

  Avalon

  I caught up with Ava, leading her by the hand to the hexagonal courtyard buried within the walls of the endless palace. I had watched the Queen from Nikolaj’s tower – it seemed right to name it that – while I was waiting for Ava to wake up. A steady trickle of Fae, with their immaculate woven clothes – usually showing off one body part or another – and iridescent faces, had joined the Queen in front of the layer-cake fountain, wings glowing in the twilight.

  They treated Raphael like a god.

  They were wary of Lorenzo. Our sapiens companions took the role of museum exhibits as the Fae circled them, examining them thoroughly – more than one sniffing Lolita and Rihanna.

  We could hear the cacophony of voices as we approached the flowering archway to the courtyard. There were no doors leading into the apparently communal space, but our entrance felt dramatic as if we had blasted through steel and wafted in with machetes. All at once, the Fae stopped speaking or moving. They instantly froze.