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Copyright ©2005 Will Greenway

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

‘Neath Odin’s Eye

Reality’s Plaything Series Book 2

The Chronicles of the Ring Realms

By Will Greenway

Writers Exchange E-Publishing

www.writers-exchange.com

‘NEATH ODIN’S EYE

Copyright 2004 Will Greenway

Writers Exchange E-Publishing

P.O. Box 372

ATHERTON QLD 4883

AUSTRALIA

Cover Art: Robert Beers

Published Online by Writers Exchange E-Publishing

www.writers-exchange.com

ISBN 1876962801

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Dedication
The Immortals

Chapter 1 Asylum Before the Storm
Chapter 2 Dinner With a Deity
Chapter 3 Idun’s Treasure
Chapter 4 What Cost for Power
Chapter 5 Reborn By Dawn
Chapter 6 The First Obstacle
Chapter 7 A Crazy Kind of Cleverness
Chapter 8 Thunderlord’s Assault
Chapter 9 The Odinson’s Pride
Chapter 10 Dragon Flight
Chapter 11 Tymoril and Kegari
Chapter 12 Miscreant Mercenaries
Chapter 13 Draconian Humor
Chapter 14 The Minions of Surtur
Chapter 15 The Lord of Malan
Chapter 16 A Story for Loki
Chapter 17 A Dragon Swell
Chapter 18 A Draconic Affliction
Chapter 19 Homesick, the Struggle South
Chapter 20 Odin’s Eyes
Chapter 21 Valkyries
Chapter 22 Taking Wing
Chapter 23 Odin’s Storm and Sarai’s Secret
Chapter 24 Tao Travel and Wren’s Fate
Chapter 25 Escape By Nola Theft
Chapter 26 The Mistress of Hel
Chapter 27 Hella’s Confession
Chapter 28 Legacy of the First Ones
Chapter 29 The Unwanted Gift
Chapter 30 The Reticent Immortal
Chapter 31 Daena Sheento: First One Reborn
Chapter 32 Loki’s Missing Daughter
Chapter 33 Daena’s Talent
Chapter 34 The Bait In Idun’s Trap
Chapter 35 Idun’s Ultimatum
Chapter 36 Immortal Battleplan
Chapter 37 Warrior’s Ascension
Chapter 38 Balder’s Fall
Chapter 39 The Allfather’s Confrontation
Chapter 40 High Jury’s Fall: The Savage Accident
Chapter 41 Weeds
Chapter 42 Thunderlord’s Intersession
Chapter 43 Tangled Lives: Loki’s Assistance
Chapter 44 Of Changing Faces and Bloodguard
Chapter 45 Draconian First One
Chapter 46 The Flying Interlude
Chapter 47 Assault On Asgard
Chapter 48 Hel’s Mistress Strikes
Chapter 49 Welcome to Asgard
Chapter 50 Forseti’s Accusation and Thor’s Judgment
Chapter 51 Tormented Rest
Chapter 52 Restoration
Chapter 53 Ragnarok’s Child
Chapter 54 Court Preparations
Chapter 55 Millicent’s Plea
Chapter 56 The Advocate Eternal
Chapter 57 Nethra’s Offer
Chapter 58 Bannor’s Testimony: The Bloodguard’s Loophole
Chapter 59 Witness Eternal
Chapter 60 Of Verdicts and Showdowns
Epilogue

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WILL’S BOOKS:

Dedication

^ »

To the artists and writers of the “dollar era” of comics

when innovation was still innovation, and story was still pulp and passion.

To those who love mythology and keep it alive.

To the gamers who know the difference between hack’n’slash

and the creation of an epic story.

To the powerful combination of all three.

Flip the page, set the board and roll the dice.

This one’s for you.

Other books in the chronicles of the Ring Realms

Reality’s Plaything Series—Tales following the adventures of Bannor Starfist.

Reality’s Plaything

‘Neath Odin’s Eye

Gaea’s Legacy

Savant’s Blood Series—Tales following the adventures of Wren Kergatha.

Savant’s Blood

Aesir’s Blood

Gaea’s Blood

Shaladen Chronicles Series—Tales following the adventures of Corim Vale.

A Knot In Time

Anvil of Sorrow

Who Mourns the Creator

The Immortals

« ^ »

What man knows of the immortals is more conjecture than fact. Those that know truck little with common men. Some days one might chance near a tavern corner and hear the hushed converse of those who have braced those who are more than mortal.

Many are the creatures of the Ring Realms that be not of ordinary flesh.

There are the elders, men and women with knowledge and magic who cheat the finite span of life.

There are the sentinels who transcend humanity to serve in the hosts of the pantheons.

Above those are the immorts, dilutions and direvations of the pantheon lords and the elder races.

Higher still are the true immortals and the progenitor races, gods that shake the heavens with their footsteps and bend the lives of lesser creatures.

Lastly, there are the incarnations of eternity, beings of transcendant power to whom a century is like the passing of day and the power even of gods is of no consequence. Of these, words are only spoken of in whispers, for who dares to belittle a god?

Mortals and gods have been a bad combination since the two began to exist together. It’s ironic that we always somehow get wrapped up and involved with them for various reasons—whether for the potency of their passions or the fervency of their worship. Then there are the Ka’Amok … a yet bigger mess that nests rather close to home for me. I never expected to have one for a son-in-law, nor for a grand-daughter. It has put me in an interesting predicament indeed…

—Idun Yggrasil

Elder Guardian of Asgard

Chapter 1
Asylum Before the Storm

« ^ »

Bannor and Sarai cringed in an anteroom as two gods raged at one another in the hall outside. Bannor’s teeth hurt from gritting them. The volume of the two deities’ voices made his ears ring. The energy emanating from them felt like pressing face first into a wall of needles. Sarai, his elven mate, ears and body more sensitive than his own, shivered against him, burying her face in his chest.

The cavernous passage reverberated with Thor’s voice. The vaulted ceilings trembled. On the walls, the coats of arms, weapons, and other accouterments of war rattled on their display hooks. The huge immortal brushed a wrist-thick braid of russet hair over his shoulder. He smoothed at his mustaches and gripped mighty Mjolnir by the hammer’s short haft. His tunic and leggings of black broadpaw fur bristled with static.

Nose-to-nose with the goddess Idun, he spoke in a voice easily heard a league away. “Lady Idun.” Bannor felt flakes of ceiling mortar falling on his head. “This child’s game of words wastes my time. Give me the mortal, Bannor Starfist, or Father Odin’s wrath will fall upon you as it did your daughter.” He raised a clenched fist that crackled with lightning. The room filled with the scent of storm ravaged air.

Bannor caught a glimpse of the thundergod’s blocky reflection in the mirror surface of Idun’s silver raiments. The goddess tossed her head, shimmering gold hair forming a nimbus around a breathtaking face. Jewelry and rings flashed on her fingers and wrist as she pointed a glowing finger at the greatest warrior of all Aesir. Her eyes shone like green stars.

“Thunderer,” she said in a flat tone. “Best remember you are a guest in my house and bound by hospitality. I’ll not be bullied by you, or your father.” She paused, voice low, but every bit as menacing as the thundergod’s. “Threaten me at your peril. I am not some babe frightened by your deafening bluster.”

Bannor swallowed and rubbed at his bandaged ribs. He hoped and prayed that the two deities wouldn’t start fighting. Everything within fifty paces of the creatures would be incinerated, including Sarai and himself. The spires of Idun’s fortress silhouetted against dazzling blue skies were visible through the chamber windows. Clouds had boiled out of nowhere. A thrumming went through the stone underfoot.

Sarai looked up at him, amber eyes filled with pain and trepidation. Her full body trembled. He still hadn’t grown accustomed to her new face, dark waves of hair flicking around dusky skin, fleshy cheeks, and an over-wide mouth. The Sarai he grew to love more than a summer ago had been pale, with violet eyes set in an angular face. Her hair had been silver-blonde and fine, he had loved its silky feel and herbal scent. That changed four days ago when Hecate tried to take her from him. Only the intervention of immortals had brought Sarai back in this other body. The form once inhabited by Meliandri D’Casar, a handmaiden who served Queen Kalindinai of Malan, Sarai’s mother.

Of everyone in that terrible misadventure, Meliandri had been the worst victim. Dragged from her home in the Malanian capital, twisted to Hecate’s will, and stripped of her very soul. In the end, no-one fared well. For the crime of killing Hecate, Odin punished everyone who participated by sentencing them to Nifelheim, the realm of shadows. That included Sarai’s mother and sister, Idun’s daughter, grand daughter, and son-in-law, Irodee the Myrmigyne, and Laramis De’Falcone her husband.

Incensed by Odin’s attack on her family, Idun had no intention of leaving them in Hella’s cold domain. Bannor and Sarai being the only members left from the fight against Hecate, Idun gave them the task of performing a rescue. Apparently, gods had no power in Hella’s realm.

If Odin’s supporters caught them though, they wouldn’t be rescuing anybody. Bannor wasn’t anxious to learn what Odin had in store for him.

It had been quiet in the hall for a distressingly long time. Neither god had moved. Bannor sensed Idun’s prickly warmth and Thor’s icy sharpness. They appeared to be locked in a staring match. Smoldering green eyes bored into iceberg blue. Hands able to rip continents asunder clenched and loosened.

Bannor pulled Sarai closer and felt her arms tighten, making his sore ribs twinge. Three days and already they were being hunted. Their wounds from the clash with Hecate were still raw. It took effort for him to walk the length of a corridor. Sarai lost her control of elemental magic with her old body, and still had to adjust to this larger, more ‘robust’ frame; a subject of much invective. Being ‘clumsy as a cow’ was the least caustic of her complaints.

With a growl, Thor looked away from silvery Idun. “You test me sorely, Lady,” he muttered. “Invoking hospitality is thin. The delay is pointless. The mortals will be ours, whether they hide ‘neath your skirts or not.”

Idun raised her chin. Dark light crackled around her body like storm clouds boiling around a mountaintop. “It is my prerogative, Odinson. Will you honor the rites of my hold or not?”

Thunder rumbled, echoing through the fortress. “Aye,” he grumbled. “None shall say Thor violated the laws of hospitality.” He paused and his tone turned brittle. “ ‘Ware Lady. Next I come to these demesnes, it shall not be as a guest.” Lightning cracked the sky.

Idun sniffed. “Of that, Lord, I have little doubt. Now, begone.”

Thor nodded and bowed. His tone became formal and forced. “The house of Odin thanks your forbearance, Lady. The sup we took was most—” He gritted his teeth. Thunder rumbled again. “Enlightening.” He turned and strode from the hall with ground shaking footsteps.

Bannor let out a breath, heart still thudding. “Praise be. It’s over.”

Sarai sagged against him. “Yes, and none too soon. My head feels ready to explode.”

He ran a hand through the thick waves of her hair.

Idun turned from watching Thor leave. Her pale face was flush, and her body vibrated with tension, making the mirrored robes she wore scintillate in the torchlight. The goddess appeared to swell, growing taller and broader until she was even larger than the thundergod had been. Sparks crackled around her like a swarm of agitated glow bugs.

“The audacity of that whelp,” she growled. Gusts of cold air swirled through the room as she stepped into chamber where Bannor and Sarai had been hiding. “To think I nursed he and his sire at my breast.” She sizzled through a pause, teeth grinding. “How soon they forget.” Arms folded, her fingers drummed, wisps of smoke curled upward from burning nails.

Bannor sidled toward the window drawing Sarai with him, trying not to be overt about wanting to keep as much distance as possible from the goddess. This creature could shatter cities with a gesture, and kill with a thought.

Sarai shrank against him, back pressed to his chest so as to keep an eye on the fuming immortal.

Idun composed herself after a few moments. Glowing green eyes focused on them. When she spoke, her voice echoed. “You heard the thunderer. Time is short. You have but a few days to make yourselves ready.”

Bannor’s stomach tightened. Even if he were at his full strength, neither he nor Sarai knew anything of this place or its denizens. He hoped the goddess didn’t expect them to try to mount a rescue now. They were practically helpless.

Bannor craned his neck to look at the now huge Idun. “Majesty. I—I don’t know if we can be ready that fast.”

Idun’s fingers stopped drumming. She fixed more attention on him. He was glad she expressed surprise rather than anger. “Why?”

Wasn’t it obvious? It must not be. The little he’d spoken with the goddess led him to believe she wasn’t stupid.

Sarai put a hand on his arm, and cleared her throat. “Majesty, we aren’t fit. We have—well,” she paused.

“Yes?” Idun loomed over them like a wave ready to crest. “What?”

Bannor felt beads of perspiration work down his forehead. Sarai took a breath. He felt a shiver of tension run through her body. “Majesty, you’ve been gracious in harboring us. Aside from the clothes given to us when we first arrived, we have nothing to get ready with.”

Idun’s eyes narrowed. “Preposterous. Of course, you—” She stopped. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “Mortals,” she mumbled. “You are both—mortals.” Unfolding her arms, she steepled her fingers at her lips. “This is my daughter and grandchild. Whatever you desire. It is yours.” She reached out with a glowing finger and touched Sarai on the forehead.

Sarai gasped and her skin grew warm. She seemed to shake off a momentary dizziness. “Well, we need—” A glowing sword appeared in her hand. At the same time, a golden bow and a quiver of arrows shimmered into view looped around her arm. A hauberk of fine-linked mail and shield flickered into being at her feet.

Sarai gasped, fumbled the weapon, and was forced to catch it. Her eyes widened at the sight of the precious bow, the exquisite armor and shield.

“Th—” She licked her lips, getting back her composure. “Thank—”

Idun made a dismissing gesture. “Bother me not with trivialities. Material goods, such as that.” She flicked a finger at the armaments which, in Bannor’s estimation, were worth more than most kingdoms. “Are of no moment. Make yourselves ready. Meet me for night’s sup in—” She frowned in thought. “In three bells.” She turned and glided away.

“Wait—” Bannor started, but Sarai put a hand over his mouth.

When the goddess was gone, Sarai let go.

“But, Star, I don’t see…”

“My One, trust me, she took care of it.” Her amber eyes were wide. She licked her lips, obviously struck by what she had discerned.

He frowned at her. “What?”

Sarai held out her hand. She narrowed her eyes. A line of light sliced across her palm. A thin shape coalesced, then flickered into being. It was a hand-axe identical to the one he lost in the fight with Hecate.

He blinked. He reached out and touched the weapon. It felt solid. The haft was even nicked exactly the same way his old one had been, gouges chinked in the ironwood by the claws of Hecate’s demons. “How..?”

Sarai pushed his fingers closed on the axe. Then put a hand to his cheek. “Whatever you desire. It is yours. Idun meant what she said. I just wished for that axe, and it appeared.”

Bannor looked at the weapon, hefted its weight. To a person with nearly limitless power, he guessed listening to their little ‘mortal’ needs was probably more trouble than simply giving Sarai the ability to grant her own wishes.

He hoped it wasn’t like his Garmtur Shak’Nola had been. He could make desire into reality too—with totally unpredictable side affects. The struggle with Hecate seemed to have burned his talent out though. He didn’t know when, if ever, he would recover its use and the ability to see the threads of the cosmos.

Bannor put the axe down and rubbed his stubble rough face with both hands. He looked around the hall at all the splendor. They were in the realm of gods certainly that made more things possible.

“So what do I wish for?” Sarai asked.

“What we need—I guess.”

Wishes. That’s what started the whole thing, Hecate’s wish, his wish, Sarai’s… Now, Idun had a wish. A wish that promised to get them into more trouble than ever. Being at war with Hecate was bad enough. This promised to embroil a whole pantheon of gods. To go along was complete insanity.

Then again, they really didn’t have a choice. Sarai’s mother and sister were trapped, along with their friends. They couldn’t abandon them, even if Idun would let them. He simply didn’t see how they could possibly rescue the others. Even if Sarai wished up an entire army. It came down to them, and whatever assistance Idun provided. True, Idun was one of the greatest of the Aesir, but she was one against many. Even if he and Sarai freed Wren and the others from Nifelheim, how would they stay out? Likely they’d all end up there, and Idun would share a cell with them.

Sarai straightened, put aside the bow and sword, and went to the window. This antechamber looked over several courtyards that made up the inner ring of Idun’s fortress. Further out, gold spires rose above the domes and buttresses that formed the outer walls. Even during the day, stars burned in the sky like white embers. All the colors were so bright that it made his eyes ache. Men and women astride dragons, winged horses, and griffins flew patterns around the highest parapets. Armored guards in the tabards of a hundred nations patrolled the lower battlements.

Sarai turned and looked at him. “Look at all this. Why us? You don’t have your power, and me—” She bit herself off. “It doesn’t make sense.”

He massaged her shoulders. “Idun thinks we have some special quality that’ll help us beat impossible odds. She just doesn’t realize we used up all our luck surviving the last fight.”

Sarai sighed and nodded. “We must try and do something. So, what should we start with?”

Bannor shrugged. “Clothes, supplies, armor, weapons. I imagine we can have our pick of mounts.” He watched riders on griffins sail by. “What we’ll need most are people who know the way.”

“The thing we really can’t wish for—” She pursed her lips. “Allies.”

He put his arms around her again and sniffed her hair. She didn’t smell like the Sarai he remembered, and not as good, they hadn’t found a place to bathe yet. “I think Idun has something in mind.”

“Probably,” Sarai agreed. She took a breath, and handed him all the equipment she’d conjured, and pulled him toward the doorway. “Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“Back to our rooms. If I’m going to fight gods in the morning, I’ve got some selfish wishes I want to make first. Starting with a bathtub and some hot water. If I have to die, I want to at least look presentable.”

Three bells passed quickly. Bannor found Sarai’s wish for a hot tub of mineral water admirably inspired. Sliding into the pleasantly warm waters next to his beloved was a welcome diversion. He was still adjusting to the new Sarai, he experienced a reflexive self-consciousness around her. Sarai noted the space that he put between them, however unintentional, and was quick to wrap herself around him and get reacquainted. She wished up a cask of Malanian fire wine and they sipped, soaked and cuddled. With the wine to loosen him up it wasn’t hard for Sarai to make him pliable. She knew him well, and while she might not be pleased with her new body, she had endowments aplenty to arouse him. Their lovemaking was gentle and unhurried. The experience all the more pleasurable after having weeks of nothing but fear and pain.

When one of Idun’s servants came to fetch them for night sup they were both still splashing in the tub, an arsenal of armor, weapons, and supplies piled around the room like spoils from a war.

They both froze at the sight of the stiff looking man with a scar blotched face and red hair. The gent cleared his throat and adjusted his green tunic. When he spoke it was with a cracked voice. “The lady awaits your company.”

For some reason Bannor found the man’s serious demeanor funny. He let out a laugh before he could stop himself, which started Sarai giggling. Bannor forced himself under control. “Tell her maj-us-ty” He blinked to bring the man back into focus. “We’ll be along—presh-untly.”

The servant frowned. “Very well.” He marched out.

The urge hit him again and Bannor laughed. He didn’t know why it was funny, but it hit him that way.

Sarai chuckled with him, then whistled. She ran a hand through the dark waves of her hair, amber eyes glazed with inebriation. “Oooh, I think—” she picked up her glass from the edge of the scalewood tub, swirled the crimson liquid around, leaned back and took a sip. “I think—” she slurred. “I think I made this stuff—too strong.”

“No?” He grinned. “Really?”

She smiled back. “Really. You know—sitting at goddess’ table—half drunk, isn’t one—isn’t one of our better plans.”

“What? Whole thing makes me want to get drunk. She’s going to get us killed. It’s South-war all over again, and we’re the fresh meat.”

“Uh hmmm.” She took another sip, then held the glass up. “Better stop. I drink anymore, I won’t be able to walk.”

“Sure you can now?” He pushed himself up out of the water. “I’m not. Oh arrgh.” He felt twinges from his side and from his numerous bruises and contusions. With effort he supported himself against the waste high tub. A chilly fortress draft hit him like a sharp smack on the butt. His skin prickled. “Ie ie ie, we don’t have anything to dry off with.”

“Yesh we do,” Sarai pointed to a chair. A pair of thick towels sparkled into being folded over the back. “Hand me mine, will you.”

“Cheater,” he mumbled padding across the cold flags, wrapping himself in one and returning with Sarai’s. “You going to wish us some clothes too?”

“Uh hmmm.” She replied, taking another sip from the glass she’d just said she shouldn’t drink any more from. She pointed and his towel vanished to be replaced by a fine royal blue tunic and cyan-colored breeches. Soft doe-skin boots sheathed his feet. At the same time he’d been outfitted with a full array of jewelry, rings on half-a-dozen fingers, amulets, he even felt something in his ear.

“What’s all this?” He tugged at his ear finding that he indeed had something there as well. He walked up to the tub, lifted her out, and wrapped her in the towel.

“Sh-tyle,” she slurred again. “You’re the One of a daughter of Malan, you might as well look the part for once.”

He chuckled. “As her ladyship wishes.”

She staggered a little and leaned against him. “We wish, dammit. You’re—you’re a good looking—man. You never—never dress like it.” She blinked. “Mom thought—thought you were a bloody—beggar.”

He sniffed. “Just like to dress comfortable that’s all.”

Sarai ran a hand through her hair and looked around the room like she didn’t recognize anything. “You know—I really am drunk. Don’t remember getting so—dosed—this easy.”

“Different body darling. Meliandri was a Healer. I heard the southland Healers made their members keep their bodies pure.”

“Pure? Whatever—don’t like it. Didn’t stop her—stop her from eating too damn much. And what in Hades were these all about?” She dropped her towel and put her hands under her breasts and cupped them up. “What kind of breeding put these monsters on an Elf?”

He admired the displayed cleavage with a smile. “Don’t know, but that’s some fine evolution you got there.”

“Humph. You don’t have to sleep with them.”

“Oh, yes I do, and I look forward to it every night.”

She shot him a withering glance. “You man.”

“Guilty.”

Sarai wished a blue gown onto herself that matched the colors of his tunic. The neck-line was high, probably to spite him. She fixed her hair and arrayed herself as he’d seen her do for court before the King of Malan.

“Now, if you can get me down the hall. I’ll try not to make a spectacle of myself.”

“My Star,” he gave her a hug and a kiss. “I love all of you; even your spectacles.”

She laughed and hugged him back. Together they wobbled down the hall to hear Idun’s plans for them, and the how they would rescue prisoners kept in the land of the dead.

All I’ve ever been able to say about otherworldly creatures is that they are a pain. Literally. Despite my growing power as a savant, there was always some creature meaner and badder than me who was more than willing to make me regret being born. I have the scars to prove it.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Chapter 2
Dinner With a Deity

« ^ »

Bannor assisted Sarai into a chair near the head of a gigantic banquet table. Idun’s dining area was a feast hall large enough to host a small army. Polished rosewood paneling covered the walls. Pelts of broadpaw and blackhorn decorated the floors. A huge granite and iron hearth blazed with a ten-log fire.

Idun, now dressed in blue shift instead silver robes, sat at the head of the table. She looked smaller than she normally did, about Sarai’s size. She’d braided her golden hair, and the only adornment she wore was an intricate gold amulet. Though she looked like a normal person, the aura around her left no mistaking her identity as a pantheon lord. Bannor’s skin tingled and the air around the lady was heavy with her presence.

Finished seating Sarai, Bannor pulled up his chair, acutely aware of Idun’s attention and the way she studied them from the instant they wobbled into the room. She sat in silence, hand idly caressing a small box made of what looked like onyx.

Bannor saw no-one else besides the goddess, not even serving staff. Dinner had already been served. Two steaks of different kinds of meat, boiled vegetables, and sliced fruit awaited them on large porcelain plates. Thick pewter goblets filled with something red sat at their right hand. Steaming loaves of three different kinds of bread lay on wood cutting boards at the middle of the table. The palatable aromas that wafted from their plates made his stomach growl. Though his tongue felt thick from the liquor, his mouth watered at the prospect of eating something other than bread and cheese. Over a tenday had passed since he or Sarai ate anything more substantial than trail rations.

Two place settings across from them had been served as well, the chairs pushed back and conspicuously empty. He assumed those empty seats signified something, but he wasn’t sure exactly what.

The fire made the only sounds in the room. Idun only looked at them. Bannor’s skin prickled. Thoughts of being trapped darted through his mind. He noticed Sarai sat rigid in her chair taking deep breaths. She hated to look foolish in front of anyone, much less a goddess.

Idun put an elbow on the table and leaned her head on her fist. “You two are intoxicated,” she determined.

Sarai let out a choked sound. She didn’t meet the goddess’ eyes. Bannor stared into the fire. He braced himself to be yelled at, or reprimanded, or whatever Idun might do.

Silence. The fire crackled. His heart thudded. Sarai breathed unevenly. Somewhere far off, a spoon rattled in a bowl.

Idun closed her eyes and rubbed a temple with a knuckle. “Why are you two drunk? Don’t you think this mission is important?”

Bannor’s breath caught. The fact Idun did not raise her voice seemed to emphasize her disappointment. He felt the goddess’ emotion and it made him icy inside.

Sarai straightened. “We do!” She said it louder than necessary, and her voice cracked. “It’s just—” She paused and her dusky features flushed.

“Just—?” Idun prompted. The goddess glanced at him by way of explanation. Even a simple glance felt like being pricked with a needle.

He winced. “Majesty.” He measured his words. “We—” He swallowed. “We’ve been through a—great deal. Now, well—” He couldn’t go on, her green eyes were boring holes in him.

“Now—?” The goddess prompted again.

“Now,” Sarai picked up. “We’re getting ready—ready to go out and die.” She caught her breath, perhaps surprised by what she’d blurted out.

Idun displayed remarkably little of the temper the legends attributed to gods. If Sarai’s statement offended her, it didn’t show on the doll-like perfection of the goddess’ face. She seemed to be reflecting on Sarai’s statement.

Idun frowned and said in a dry tone, “So, you figured to have a last coupling and throw back a few before marching to your doom?”

Sarai looked like a blackhorn caught in the beam of a hunter’s lantern. She nodded.

Idun turned to him for confirmation.

He closed his eyes. He head ached. “A fair assessment, Majesty.”

Bannor felt Idun staring at him. The noise she made, startled him.

She laughed.

Hearing the sound, he called it a ‘laugh’. It was more than sound. He’d heard Hecate ‘laugh’, she had been expressing scorn and derision. Idun definitely found his statement funny. Perhaps it was because immortals weren’t often amused, that it had such a transforming affect. Everything seemed to reverberate with the goddess’ mirth. Colors seemed brighter, the heaviness in the air dissipated, even the smells grew stronger and more appealing. The tension thrumming through him dissipated, and warmth started in his middle and spread through his limbs.

“Mortals.” The goddess chuckled and shook her head. “Eat! The food is growing tepid.”

Sarai looked stunned. “Majesty? You aren’t angry?”

Idun picked up a fork and looked askance at her. “Not yet.” She chewed a fork full of food, and sipped from her goblet. “I felt my magic being used. I trust at least some of it was productive?”

Sarai reddened. “Yes, Majesty, thank you.”

Idun picked up her knife and gestured with it. “You two know the use of a fork, do you not?”

They both nodded.

“Do so, then. I’ll not eat while you two simply sit there watching.”

Bannor took his fork. Sarai did likewise, only she switched the fork to her left hand. A “court” mannerism she’d tried to teach him. She’d also patiently explained which utensils were for a particular food. When he was young, the only rule at the dinner table was no eating until after the prayers were finished. That, and stabbing one another with forks was frowned on. Something Bannor did once after his big brother kept stealing food from his plate.

Prayers. It seemed seasons since he said a prayer. Odin, the god he prayed to, wanted to imprison him in Niflheim. It put all his beliefs in a different perspective. Believing in a god and worshiping them is one thing. Being chased by avatars, and assaulted by a god is quite another.

Now, he was sitting at dinner with one of the most prominent of the Aesir. In a handful of tendays, he’d gone from being a lonely ranger living in a cabin in the mountains, to the suitor of Princess Sarai of Malan and slayer of the mad goddess Hecate; a man who walked in the company of gods, demi-gods, and avatars. It made his brain hurt.

He tried not think at all and simply concentrated on the food in front of him. The meat was tender and savory. His cup contained a sweet red mead that fortunately wasn’t as strong as the fire wine he and Sarai had been drinking back in their rooms. For right now, he had real food, and that made his universe complete.

For a while, there was nothing but the crackling of fire, the clink of silverware, and the occasional appreciative smack of the lips. Everything on his plate, while simple, had excellent flavor. He expected the goddess to be jaded about the food at her own table, but surprisingly, she appeared to appreciate the fine faire as much as either he or Sarai. He guessed his initial surmise was correct. An immortal had no need for food, so they probably only ate for pleasure or as a gesture of some kind.

Idun broke the silence. “What I know of you two is limited to what my senses and scrying have told me.” She sipped from her goblet and looked at Sarai. “I know you are third for a throne, in the Freyr-kin land of Malan. Your Mother is a wilder mage married into the noble house for the magic in her blood. I know my daughter Euriel visited with her quite often a century or so ago.” Idun paused. “I can only describe their relationship as competitive.”

Sarai had been in mid-bite at the last of Idun’s words and fumbled her fork. She laughed. “Competitive. That is one word for it.” She let out a breath. “They were always trying to outdo one another. Your daughter is very—” Sarai paused. “Aggressive.”

Idun shrugged. “She has Aesir blood. We are warriors.”

Bannor remembered how Kalindinai hadn’t wanted to appear weak in front of Euriel. They had fought for more than an hour against Hecate’s demons outside a small walled village. The Elf queen had fought with admirable courage and endurance, but like most of them had finally been worn down by the number of opponents. Euriel though, looked invigorated by the long battle rather than exhausted like the rest of them.

“I can attest to that,” Bannor agreed. “She was ready for more fighting when the rest of us were down.”

“Aesir thrive on conflict,” Idun said. “Without it they feel empty.”

“There is something I don’t understand,” Sarai said. “Everything I have ever read says that immortals cannot have children. You have Euriel. The pantheons have many fathers and mothers and their descendants.”

Idun swirled the mead around in her goblet. “A coupling between pureblood immortals cannot create children, but by sacrificing part of our power we can create kin from out of our flesh. Male gods can sire in a female mortal, and mortal men can sire in a goddess.” The Lady’s voice became wistful. “Halfbloods are fertile among themselves and immortals.”

The way she said ‘halfblood’ suggested to Bannor that the progeny of human/immortal couplings didn’t get a warm reception in the pantheons. It gave Bannor the disturbing notion that Odin’s sending Euriel and the others to Niflheim might have motivations besides meting justice over the death of a goddess.

Sarai seemed to pick up his thought. “So, half-gods are the only ones with lineage and continuity. That must cause some jealousy.”

“Aye,” Idun growled. A gust of chilly air hummed through the room. “Though none that any would admit to.”

“Does Odin bare Euriel ill will?” Bannor asked. “He is the All-Father, but…”

“The All-Father has been upset with me since I sent his son Bragi back to his cow of a mother, Gunlod.” She ran a tongue across her teeth like she tasted something sour. “Poetry only goes so far with me. Euriel was not sired by Bragi. That fact coupled with Euriel’s successes have always annoyed Odin.”

“Seems rather petty,” Sarai remarked.

Idun glanced at Sarai, the sour expression still on her face. “I thought as much myself. We’re immortals, we live forever. Doesn’t he have something better to do?” She let out a breath. “Bragi was—is a punk. Live with it. It’s not Euriel’s fault.”

The word ‘punk’ when coupled with the name of the greatest skald of the Aesir hit Bannor as funny. Without thinking, he laughed, even though he knew it was inappropriate. He stifled it when Idun frowned.

“Strikes you as humorous does it?” Idun asked.

“Pardon, Majesty,” he said. “I have a hard time of thinking of any immortal as a ‘punk’.”

“You haven’t met Bragi. Once you get past the charm and the flowery words, you are left with a lout.”

Sarai put a hand over her mouth to cover a smile. Bannor guessed that like him, she was struck by the irony. These beings of immense power had all-too-mortal problems. Idun’s tone was the same exasperated growl of disappointment Bannor had heard from mortal women soured on a relationship with a man she thought would ‘grow up’ or ‘change’.

“There’s something missing,” Sarai said. “I understand Odin might be unfavorably disposed to you. Perhaps frown on Euriel. That doesn’t seem enough for him to punish her, or us, like this.”

Idun took a long swig of mead. She snapped her fingers and a servant rushed out from a doorway, refilled her goblet and cleared away her empty plate. “Ah, I left out the incident.”

“Uh oh,” Bannor muttered.

The goddess paused and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve heard the story?”

Bannor bit his tongue. “I haven’t known your daughter long, but I know her type. If it’s like the stories I’ve heard, it starts with the griped ex-husband publicly making disparaging remarks within earshot of the wrong person.”

Idun raised a finger. “You have the long of it. The short of it was Bragi getting a dunking in a watering trough, despite all his efforts to fight back. This in full view of his new wife to be and several Vanir, including Odin’s brother Ve.”

“Oooh,” Bannor winced. “Wars have been fought over smaller losses of face.”

“Much less,” Sarai concurred.

Idun shrugged, and leaned back in her chair. “As I said, he was a punk. My half-blood daughter mopping the courtyard with him proves it.” The goddess’ smug tone told Bannor that the thought of smooth-tongued Bragi getting humiliated gave her great satisfaction.

“How long ago did this happen?” Sarai asked.

“A few decades ago.” She sniffed. “Odin has been waiting for an excuse. He found one.”

“Rounding up the accessories to the murder is a formality then?” Sarai asked.

“Yes. Odin got his satisfaction when Euriel was made to do ‘the walk’ through Asgard.”

“The walk?” Sarai said.

“You’re locked into a pillory and towed through town behind a horse,” Bannor explained. “Public humiliation.”

Sarai’s eyes widened. She looked at Idun. The goddess wore a dark expression. Everything made more sense to Bannor now. This was about revenge, not justice. Odin probably didn’t care a wit about Hecate’s death. She didn’t even belong to his pantheon. He only cared that Euriel had conspired, together with others, to kill a goddess. It gave him the excuse to discredit and humiliate Idun’s daughter. For the illusion to be credible though, the actual ‘murderer’, Bannor, had to be brought to justice.

“What a mess,” he mumbled. “This is worse than if Odin really did want me for Hecate’s murder. If we show this up as a revenge attempt, he’ll lose face.”

“You have the right of it,” Idun said. “Still, my daughter will not languish because of Odin’s precious pride.”

Bannor gritted his teeth. “Majesty, being right doesn’t give us any more power to rectify the situation. Even if Sarai and I somehow manage to get Euriel and the others out of Niflheim, Odin will just catch us and put us back.”

“No.” Idun crashed a fist on the table, making the huge wooden structure rattle. “You focus on getting them out. I shall handle Odin.”

“His people will try to stop us, Majesty,” Sarai protested. “They aren’t going to quietly step aside. If there is blood…”

Idun’s eyes flashed. “Then there will be blood.”

“What Sarai is saying,” Bannor said, “is blood would escalate this, get us into a war…”

Idun pointed at him. “You think I mistake her. I do not. If Odin wants war, he will find me ready. Neither my house, nor my children shall be trifled with.” Electricity bristled around her. “Am I clear to you?”

It felt as though icy fingers had closed around his insides. She was clear; lucidly so. She was also insane. Odin had the entirety of the Aesir behind him. He glanced at Sarai and saw her face looked pale. “Yes, Majesty,” he answered.

“I am not nearly as helpless against Odin as you might think,” Idun said. She lifted the lid on the onyx box. A yellowish light shone from within. Reaching inside she tossed an object to himself and then to Sarai.

Instinctively, he caught what she’d thrown. The thing was warm and it pulsated in his hand. It glowed with a soft gold light. Bannor blinked. It was a crunchfruit and appeared to be made of gold.

He noticed Sarai studying what she held. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen.

“Do you know what you hold, mortal?” Idun stressed the word ‘mortal’.

Bannor shook his head.

“Those of Hecate’s pantheon have a name for these.” She pulled one of the golden fruits from the box and held it up between her thumb and forefinger. “They called mixtures made with fruit like this, ‘ambrosia’. The Aesir have no name for these. They are the essence of eternal Yggrasil, the tree of life.” She leaned forward. “Bannor,” she turned her gaze to his beloved. “Sarai. Eat of that fruit, and you will become as gods…”

For most of my life I have struggled simply to satisfy my parents, never being good enough to out-do my annoying sister Janai, or charismatic enough to be universally admired like my sister Ryelle. It seems no accomplishment has ever been good enough to satisfy either my mother or father. Finally, I stopped trying and decided only to simply try and satisfy myself. I’ve learned that it is almost as difficult a task as the first endeavor.

—Arminwen Sarai T’Evagduran

Third Princess of Malan

Chapter 3
Idun’s Treasure

« ^ »

Sitting in the giant feast hall, everything was abruptly silent. The words of the goddess Idun still lingered in the air. ‘…Eat of that fruit, and you will become as gods…’ Bannor glanced again to the small gold-colored fruit that lay in his tingling palm. His heart beat fast and he had to force himself to breathe. It didn’t look like food that gods would consume. Being smaller than his fist with a vaguely metallic sheen, the only thing that hinted at any special qualities was the warm pulsation that emanated from its skin. From the moment he touched it, he felt uneasy. Of course, his senses hadn’t prepared him for what it represented.

Immortality.

“Yes,” Idun continued, holding one of the fruits up between thumb and forefinger. “You heard right. That fruit can make a god out of a mortal.” She leaned forward. “It also keeps the gods eternally young.”

“What?” Sarai stammered.

Idun raised an eyebrow. “You thought gods just lived forever?” She leaned back, brought the fruit to her lips and took a big crunching bite. Sparks of light flickered around her body, and to Bannor’s eye it appeared that the goddess grew a tiny fraction. “Yes, we live forever. That’s providing we don’t abuse our host body. Which every deity does. Because our bodies regenerate, we often overtax our natural capacities. In large, the damage heals, but not all. Our capabilities diminish over time as we slowly burn out. Only one thing heals it.” She held the golden crunchfruit up and let it glisten in the light before taking another bite. Eyes closed, she obviously savored the taste and whatever the fruit did to her.

Bannor hadn’t imagined it the first time. Idun did grow. Not simply taller, but in girth, as if she’d gained weight. He glanced at Sarai. She stared at the golden crunchfruit, awe etched on her face.

Idun opened her eyes and smiled. “I want you two to eat these. It will heal your wounds and increase your capacities a hundred fold.”

He swallowed. He didn’t know why, but even contemplating the idea frightened him. “What if we don’t want to be gods?”

Idun had started to take a third bite and froze with the apple half way to her mouth. “Not want to be a god? Something the matter with being a god?” The way she said it, the twinkle in her eye told Bannor that Idun was teasing.

Sarai glanced at him. “I imagine he thinks it’s unearned.”

“Unearned? What god ever earned their divinity? All of them were born to it.” She bit into the apple as punctuation, flecks of glowing juice spraying out and landing on the table in tiny sizzling droplets. “If it makes,” she swallowed. “If it makes you feel any better. The affect on mortals is temporary.”

Bannor eyed the frothing droplets on the table. His stomach tightened. “How temporary?”

Idun shrugged. Time didn’t matter to an immortal. “Days, perhaps weeks.” She sipped from her goblet. “The key is, without a steady diet of these.” She took another bite. “Many would soon weaken. Especially those who expend great energies on a regular basis. Say—Odin, for instance.” She smiled. “He thinks he knows where the supplies of these are. He doesn’t. No-one does—except me. So, while the rest grow weaker.” She took the remainder of the fruit, core and all and popped it in her mouth and chewed gustily. Her whole body noticeably thickened, curves in her face and neck filling out. “I plan to be getting stronger.”

“Majesty,” Sarai’s voice rose. “Then they’ll all be against you!”

Idun picked up another fruit, nibbling at it more daintily now. She held up a finger. “Yes, but some could be persuaded to back me if they knew there would be no shortage for them.”

“Hasn’t this happened before?” Bannor asked.

The goddess shook her head. “I’ve been the only one in the position to do this. I’ve always been trustworthy and Odin has always taken care that I was treated so that rebelling never entered my mind. Before now, I would never have crossed the family of Aesir.”

“But now you’re ready to start a war?” Bannor growled. “Human wars are bad enough, but a god war!”

“Odin started it,” Idun snarled, eyes flashing. The sound of her voice rattled the walls the way it did when she confronted Thor. “He was foolish to think I would let my children be punished to salve his ego. I have tried reasoning with him. I have tried persuading others. It comes to this. I’m not asking for your approval. I’m providing you the opportunity to repay what was given you.” She looked at Sarai then back to him. “You haven’t forgotten already have you?”

Bannor felt a cold sensation grip him. “No.”

Idun’s voice dropped to a normal timbre. “Good.” She sighed. “Realize that I know nothing good can come of this. There are times when you must take a stand. Certainly, you understand that.”

Bannor rocked back in the heavy wood chair, his head pressed against the seat back. He understood. He knew about war, and losing kin. Hecate’s war had almost cost him Sarai. “Yes, I understand, but Sarai and I aren’t gods. We can’t help you fight them. Not in any way that would matter.”

“I don’t need you to be gods. I need to be able to depend on you. I will be a distraction. They won’t have the resources to deal with me and search for you. That affords you the opportunity to make your way to Niflheim and free the prisoners. After that point,” she took a big bite from the fruit. “It will be up to me.”

Sarai nodded, still eying the gold fruit in her hand. “Are we the best choice? You must have other servants who know the realm and are more capable.”

The goddess swirled the mead in her goblet. “Your family is at stake. Their lives being on the line gives you incentive and fortitude of a quality that can’t be bought.” She shrugged. “Besides, Bannor’s power is a formidable force in itself.”

“When I have it,” he said. He took a big gulp of sweet mead to soothe his nerves. “That isn’t the case.”

“The apple can heal that.”

Bannor swallowed. “Or it can blow me and this fortress into the next universe. I know for certain that the power of gods and the Garmtur don’t mix well. Can you be sure these two,” he tapped his temple then hefted the apple. “Will play well together?”

Idun’s eyes widened. Placing her partially eaten fruit back in the box. She leaned back in her chair and sipped from her goblet. Apparently lost in thought, she studied the ceiling. After a while, she looked back to them with a chagrined expression. “No, I can’t.” She snapped her fingers.

A servant ran out from a doorway and knelt by her chair. He was a boy of around twelve summers with dark hair, a pug nose and wide blue eyes. The goddess put a hand on his head. No words were exchanged, but he nodded. She drew her hand away, and the youngster popped to his feet and dashed out a different doorway.

Idun sighed. “The powers of the first ones are tricky. Rather than risk it, we’ll have to find an alternate method of getting you healthy.”

Bannor looked at Sarai. Her amber eyes met his, dark hair falling about her face. She looked tired. The liquor, the tension, he was certain it they’d all taken their toll. Of course, with the apple of immortality in her hand, Bannor doubted she would nod off.

“Sarai isn’t hurt so bad, as to need that,” Bannor said indicating the apple. “Her problems are—”

“My problems are due to being in the wrong damn body!” Sarai finished. “Can the apple compensate for that?” She rubbed the fruit’s pulsating skin with her thumb.

Idun pulled the long braid of her hair around to the front and played the end under her chin. Her face turned contemplative. “The power of pantheon lords can do anything.”

Sarai placed the apple on the plate in front of her and frowned at Idun. “Can I get back to my old body?”

“With enough magic, Sarai, anything is possible. Whether it’s permanent is another matter.”

“But it’s possible?” Sarai pressed.

Idun shrugged. “Shape changing is a sophisticated skill, making a form fully functional and permanent is … difficult.”

“You could do it though?” Sarai said, intent on the goddess.

Idun sipped from her goblet. “I didn’t offer. I gave you the apple instead. Do it yourself.”

Sarai eyed the goddess in silence. Bannor was aware of the crackling fire, the beating of his heart, and the scratching of Sarai’s nails on the tabletop. “Aren’t you afraid of what I might do?”

Idun raised an eyebrow. “Why should I be? One apple doesn’t make you a match for a true immortal. Besides, I didn’t put your family in Niflheim—Odin did.”

“Sarai, changing your appearance isn’t enough reason to risk it.”

“How not?!” Sarai snapped. “You try being in some fat cow’s body with the prospect of losing your family heritage.” Her voice turned biting. “Then see if it isn’t more than enough reason. There’s more to being than personality and identity! This is a borrowed body. It’s not me!”

Bannor kept his voice level. “Sarai, it has to be you. Your birth body was destroyed by Hecate.”

“You mean, destroyed by you.”

The words were a hard slap that made Bannor suck a breath. She’d never indicated that she resented what had happened. Knowing there had been no alternative, and accepting it were obviously different matters. The sting must have showed on his face.

Sarai closed her eyes and let out a breath. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s—I’ve been so—frustrated. You can’t know what it’s like to look at your own hands and not recognize them. To face the prospect of being stuck like this for the rest of my life.”

Idun wore a strange smile. “Unstick yourself then.” She gestured to the apple on Sarai’s plate. “All the power is there—and more.”

Bannor didn’t like the way Idun was urging Sarai. Unless she stood to gain something more by Sarai’s cooperation. What could she get, that she couldn’t already force from her? Sarai wanted her true form back—an understandable desire. Sarai already owed the goddess her life … she couldn’t possibly be more indebted to her. Or could she?

Sarai loved magic, and felt drawn to power. He’d seen that from the first time his Nola touched her. Idun’s apple offered as she said, “all the power, and more…” What would it be like to become ‘as a god’ then be faced with the prospect of being a mere mortal again? He was wincing over simply losing the ‘second sight’ ability that was a part of his own abilities.

Idun planned to gain the support of other gods by controlling the supply of apples. They needed the apples to live. He or Sarai could also be controlled if they became dependent on Idun’s fruit.

He looked to Sarai. There was a determined look in her amber eyes. She wanted out of Meliandri’s body. The question was, what alternative was there? Flesh was flesh … she could shape that body any way she wanted. It still wouldn’t be the same Sarai who was destroyed in Northern Ivaneth.

Sarai reached for the apple on her plate and Bannor put his hand on hers. “You should think this through.”

“I have.” Her tone was sharp. “I can’t be any help to you like this.” She made a sweeping gesture to herself. “We both know we’re going to need all the help we can get to get Mother and Janai out of Niflheim.”

Bannor gritted his teeth. He couldn’t argue with that logic. A glance at Idun revealed the tiniest of smiles on immortal’s face.

Bannor let go, his insides twisting. Sarai picked up her knife, took hold of the apple and made a deep slice. Glowing juice spread from the incision and sizzled on her plate as she cut out a tiny sliver.

Idun watched intently.

Sarai looked to him.

“You sure?” he asked.

Sarai glanced at Idun. “What other alternative do I have Bannor?”

He swallowed and nodded.

Sarai picked up the slice of apple and sniffed it tentatively. She then touched it to her tongue and flinched.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“It’s sweet,” she said.

“Sweet?”

“Biting sweet.” She made a face. She cautiously took a nibble, her face screwed up against the flavor.

Even that tiny amount had a visible affect, glowing blue and green sparkles danced around Sarai briefly and faded. Sarai’s amber eyes widened and her previously fatigue bowed body straightened.

“Ooh.” Sarai’s lips stayed pursed around the sound.

“You okay?” He touched her arm, and noted that her skin had grown warm. He drew a breath. There had to be another way. Sarai was playing right into the goddess’ trap.

Sarai blinked and slowly let out a breath. “Yes.” Her eyelids fluttered. “Even that tiny bit has a—kick.”

“After millennia of consuming these, we have built up a tolerance to them,” Idun said, a speculative look on her face. “For someone without that resistance, the affect is probably quite dramatic.” She ran her tongue across even white teeth. “Going to try more?”

Bannor could see Sarai warring with herself. Perhaps detecting in the goddess’ voice what he’d already deduced for himself.

With a convulsive move, she popped the entire fragment of apple into her mouth and chewed. The move surprised Bannor, and apparently Idun as well.

Sarai shuddered, eyes clenched, shut hands tightened into fists as light danced around her. Her skin took on a translucent glow. Everything about his mate took on a sparkle like that of polished metal.

Idun nodded. “It does agree with her.”

“But I don’t agree. Not to this.”

Sarai drew a breath and opened her eyes, their amber glow now as bright as flickering candle flames. She smiled and Bannor trembled inside. She was beautiful. When she spoke her voice sounded richer, more vibrant. “What’s wrong, Bannor?”

He pushed his lips together. “Idun wants you to eat that apple.” He glanced at the goddess. “Wants you eating out of her hand.”

“That’s silly, she—” Sarai stopped and turned to Idun. She narrowed brightly glowing eyes. “Insurance. You want insurance.”

Idun leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled above her breasts. “Do you blame me? Mortals can be so unreliable.” Her gaze settled on Bannor. “So—unpredictable.”

“Sarai, it’s not worth it. We can get you back to yourself another way. Fight into Niflheim with our own power.”

“What power?” Sarai growled. “You and I have nothing.”

Bannor kept his eyes locked with Sarai and put his hands on her shoulder. She felt feverish to the touch. He saw the skin underneath his hand prickle as though a tingle shot through her. “We have each other. That’s all we had against Hecate.” He raised his chin and looked at Idun. “And all we needed.”

Sarai looked down, the light in her amber eyes growing dim. When she looked up, her jaw tightened. “Bannor, we lost against Hecate. I lost. You promised to protect me, and did everything you could.” She drew and breath and let it out slow. “It wasn’t enough. It isn’t just me this time, Bannor, it’s Mother and Janai. There’s Wren, and the others. People are depending on us. We can’t afford to take chances.”

“Can we afford the price though?” Bannor said. He raised his chin gaze traveling to Idun who only looked at him with appraising eyes. “Can you?”

“Sometimes Bannor, you have to say damn the consequences.” She looked at Idun. “Right now, she needs reliable allies. If we ever want to get to my family and our friends, and get home, we need her.” Sarai sniffed. “I guess the only way we’ll know if we can trust Idun is if I put my head in the noose.”

She snatched the golden apple from the table and took a bite.

Sarai has always been able to surprise me. Sometimes she scares me. I can’t help but tremble inside when I hear her humming. I never know what is going to happen next.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Chapter 4
What Cost for Power

« ^ »

For Bannor, heartbeats in Idun’s huge banquet room with its vaulted ceilings, huge table, and tremendous hearth all dwindled down to nothing. He felt himself seized by a paralyzing dread. He couldn’t move to stop Sarai as she brought Idun’s apple to her lips and bit down. At the last instant, he’d seen the expression of triumph on Idun’s face. The gleam in her green eyes. By the time he’d recognized that, Sarai’s teeth were already piercing the golden apple’s skin.

The magic started.

A tiny fragment almost too small to see had made dramatic changes in Sarai. She’d bitten off a chunk a thousand times that size.

A seizure went through her. The hand gripping the apple convulsed, crushing the apple in a spray of juice that clung to her skin in a sizzling mess. Sarai shrieked as she appeared to explode, skin rippling and swelling. Rays of light lanced from her body in all directions.

Bannor gripped her shoulder and snatched his hands back from the scalding heat. His heart pounded as he looked for some way to help her, but unable to get close to the heat.

Sarai’s yells shook the room, sounding more afraid than in pain as her body heaved and thickened. Cloth stretched and tore. Folds of flesh bubbled outward; expanding. The chair under her shattered and she thudded to the floor.

“Idun!” he yelled. “What did you do!?”

The goddess had her head cocked to one side, watching the grisly sight of Sarai as her arms, legs and torso swelled and distended. The immortal merely blinked. “This is rather unexpected.”

“Bannor!” Sarai’s frightened plea sounded distorted, issuing from a throat swaddled in folds of tissue. An indescribable smell filled the room pungent and cloying, sweet but so harsh it made him choke.

“I’m here,” he called to her. He noticed that all the juice from the apple had spread across Sarai’s expanding body, contributing to whatever transformation was taking place.

His stomach twisted as her once attractive figure became a bloated hulk continuing to grow and spread. The gurgling sounds made his stomach tighten.

“She’s dying!” He yelled at the goddess. “Help her!”

Idun didn’t move. Sarai continued to grow. Chairs fell over and the huge dining table scraped on the stone as it was pushed aside.

“She isn’t dying,” Idun said in a flat voice. “The growth is disturbing however. Not what she had in mind I’m sure.”

Sarai groaned and the room rumbled.

“Idun! Do something!” He yelled. He still couldn’t get near Sarai from the incandescent heat coming from her skin.

The goddess sighed and rose, brushing at the pleats in her skirt.

Bannor didn’t know how he could even begin to help. He never should have trusted Idun, she had to know this would happen.

“Bannor,” Sarai moaned. He almost couldn’t make out her face, amidst writhing skin. “Help me…”

“Star, I will, you’ll be okay…” His stomach churned. Sarai resembled a gigantic worm now, arms and legs barely distinguishable against a hulk fifty times the mass of a man.

Idun made her way around Sarai at a safe distance. “Damned mortals, so fragile. Put a little power in you, and you’re all over the place.” She kneeled by Sarai’s head.

The goddess sighed. “Form, my dear, is an element of will. I look the way I will myself to appear. Otherwise, I might look as you do now.” She smiled. “Especially considering my appetite.” The goddess touched Sarai’s face. “Force the flesh to obey. You must see yourself the way you should be. Not how you are.”

Sarai twitched, a ripple going through tons of body.

The way Idun described it was similar to how he controlled his Savant abilities. “Sarai, close your eyes, block out what’s happening. Focus only on pushing the power into a box, confining it.”

Sarai murmured and quivered again. She closed her eyes.

Bannor drew a breath, and struggled to master himself. A wave of nausea rushed through him as her form rippled and heaved.

“Concentrate,” he breathed.

“Trying.” The word bubbled out.

“Can’t you help her?” he demanded.

The goddess shrugged. “Doing it for her doesn’t help. She needs to be able to hold her own form.” She touched Sarai’s face again, the heat obviously of no consequence to her. “That’s better, calm, slow, turn your mind inward. Feel the pulse. Be the power. Imagine your hand around it. Tighten your fist slowly. Press harder, yes, I can feel it. Good.”

By stages, Sarai’s giant figure started to glow and change.

“You’re doing it!” he encouraged. He felt electrified with tension. It was like losing her again. Unbidden, his thoughts kept flashing on the worst, on the terrible ‘what ifs’. He blocked it out and concentrated, remembering his love and having faith in her.

“Excellent,” Idun remarked.

The loose tissues spread across the floor drew together, compressing, becoming unified limbs, definitions of bone and muscle growing more apparent. Sarai looked only half her previous size now, body still as long and wide as Idun’s huge banquet table. If she were to somehow stand she would look over most castle walls with ease.

He moved closer. The heat had diminished, allowing him to get close enough to look on her face. Her eyes were clenched shut, brow furrowed, and jaw tight. He saw traits of the old Sarai, along with some of Meliandri.

Bannor glanced at Idun. The beautiful goddess seemed pleased. She met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, obviously sensing the hostility he felt. She said nothing, but rose and folded her arms as though standing guard.

He knelt by Sarai’s head. Her breathing was harsh and labored. Even though it burned, he put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m with you, no matter what.” He caressed her cheek. “Stop trying so hard.”

Sarai’s eyes fluttered, and a tear squeezed out. Her eyes now huge and violet opened and she looked up at him with a pained expression.

“I made—” she rumbled in a low baritone. She stopped, perhaps surprised by her own voice. “Made a mistake.”

He put an arm around her neck, ignoring the heat of her skin. “We don’t know that yet. Rest for a moment. This is hard on you.”

She nodded. Her arm rose with obvious effort to touch him. Her hand was big enough to enclose his torso. He touched her fingers. Unlike her face, her hand felt cool.

He smiled at her. “You always said you wanted to be taller.”

Her eyes fluttered, she smiled. “Think fitting into my wardrobe—will be a problem.” She swallowed, then trembled. “I love you.”

He kissed her nose. “I love you too.” He smiled. “All of you.”

She closed her eyes, she swallowed and drew a breath. A glimmering flickered around her. Sparks like glow bugs spun around her.

He whispered to her. “Little Star, just be. Don’t struggle with it.”

Sarai’s flesh pinched together, growing more dense.

Idun cocked her head, watching as Sarai shrank again, stopping when she was still half again as tall as Bannor. She nodded. “Yes, that is the way. The focus is much improved.”

Sarai’s skin glistened as though metallic, moisture trickled across the surfaces of her naked body. Her violet eyes gleamed when she opened them. Her hair turned silver and reflections blazed in the strands.

She drew a breath, fingers flexing nervously. “I think—I’m almost—”

“Slow,” Bannor said. “You feel okay?”

“Tired. Excited. Scared.” She paused. “It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

She swallowed. “My chest.” She moved a hand up between her breasts.

Idun frowned. She stepped over and moved Sarai’s huge hand aside. The goddess looked like a child compared to his beloved. Idun pressed her palm to Sarai’s sternum. Sarai groaned and winced.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Stress,” Idun said. “All that body you saw, is still here, only condensed. For immortals, the strain is no hardship.” She closed her eyes, took her other hand, and placed it on top of the first. Golden spirals wound down her arms and illuminated the spot. Sarai arched her back, her arms and hands twitching.

After a few moments, she relaxed.

Sarai took a breath and placed a trembling hand to her throat. She appeared to breathe easier.

“Better?” Idun asked.

Sarai nodded.

Bannor rubbed her shoulder, her skin had cooled considerably and felt silky to the touch. His chest still felt tight. He wiped at the perspiration on his forehead. “Will she be all right?”

Idun looked speculative. “Should be. Mortals being mortals, I expected some difficulties.”

“Don’t worry,” Sarai said, voice stronger now. “I’ll be okay.” She shifted her arms back and started levering herself to a sitting position.

Bannor tried to assist, but he might as well have been pushing against a castle wall. Even though Sarai only looked a pace taller than himself, Bannor guessed she weighed several hundred stone. Though her skin felt soft to the touch, it had the resilience of rock.

She looked back, noticing his efforts. Her violet eyes sparkled. “It would be bad if I fell on you.”

“Very bad,” he agreed; like having a mountain dropped on him.

“How do I look?” she asked.

She resembled the old Sarai only much bigger. There were many differences, her proportions, while not as copious as Meliandri’s, were markedly more generous. Her hair now glittered like strands of silver and glass. Her face remained the least changed, but it looked as it did on her best day, tanned, clear and fresh looking.

“Magnificent,” he said.

She drew a breath and shut her eyes. A dark radiance flickered around her and she shrank until she was only a little bigger than himself. She reached out and pulled him close.

He returned the embrace, but it felt like hugging a statue. No part of her gave. She was warm and alive though, and that was what mattered.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“He’s uncomfortable with your battle form.”

“My what?”

Idun stepped to the table and picked up one of the dinner knives. Before Bannor could yell a warning or Sarai could flinch, the goddess plunged the sharp implement toward Sarai’s exposed thigh.

Sarai gasped, and Bannor froze with his hand half way to intercepting the attack. They both looked at the distorted blade, its point folded on itself.

“I didn’t even feel it!” Sarai murmured.

The goddess dropped the bent knife in Sarai’s lap. “Dense. Hard. It’s a god’s natural state. Only practical for fighting though, you destroy any furniture you try to use and there’s no feeling.” She looked at Sarai sidelong. “So, the trick is to have the form without the mass.”

Sarai fingered the bent hulk of the knife and looked at Idun. She rose. The movement was slow and ponderous. Being nude and with the metallic sheen to her skin, she looked like one of the paragonic busts stationed in the central square of Ivaneth. He felt that same presence, that larger than life sensation from Sarai.

Given what he knew now, gods really were larger than life; big enough to fill whole castles. His mind flicked back to Idun consuming two of the apples and starting on a third. No wonder all his allies together couldn’t even scratch Hecate. He never had a glimmering of the true power of these leviathans.

“How do I do that?” Sarai asked.

Idun held out her hand to Sarai palm up and something dark swirled into being between her fingers. It looked like a something chipped from black glass. “This is a flux stone. All gods have one. It helps manage things like your mass.”

Sarai reached out and Idun closed her fingers. “For this, I want something extra.”

Bannor frowned. “Extra? Haven’t you cost us enough already? The transformation nearly killed her, and we still have to risk our lives—”

His beloved put a hand on his shoulder; a heavy hand. It knocked him off balance. When her fingers tightened, it felt like the jaws of a vise clamping down. “Owww!”

“Enough, my One. She wants something more, and means to have it.” She sniffed, glowing violet eyes locked on Idun’s green. “Right?”

Idun raised an eyebrow and brushed back her flowing blonde hair. “You have your needs. I have mine. I have certain errands along the way to Niflheim that may need doing. You don’t need this,” she looked at her closed hand. “But it would be—nice.”

Bannor shook his head, and rubbed his shoulder. “Sarai—”

Sarai’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll do your errands. It was what you were after, wasn’t it?”

“More like, making you able to do them. These tasks will not be easy, even for one with an immortal’s power. These tasks are—insurance—to make sure we are the winning side, and not Odin.”

“I don’t like it. What we have to do is already hard enough!” Bannor said.

Sarai pulled him against her and looked into his eyes. “If these could possibly be our last days, Bannor, I want them to be good days. Understand? You and me, like we used to be.”

He sighed. “I understand.” He didn’t say that he felt there wasn’t much chance of being ‘like they used to be’. He was the now powerless Garmtur Shak’Nola, and she was dead princess back to life, now a demi-goddess. What of that was like their former lives?

“I know I can trust your word,” Idun said, holding out her open hand with the black stone in her palm. “I’m certain having this will make the extra trouble worthwhile.”

Bannor doubted that.

Sarai gingerly took the stone from Idun. The crystal went from black to clear, its insides shimmered like water. Sarai’s eyes widened. A soft white light glinted on her skin.

“Oooh,” was the only sound she made.

“What does it do?” Bannor asked.

“Bannor, I can see. It lets me feel and sense. It’s alive! I’m alive.”

“Of course, you’re alive,” he said. Her mention of ‘seeing’ made him uneasy. All Savant powers related to perception, to visualizing the elements in order to control them.

“No, my One—alive.” She closed her hand on the stone, and the glow around her body brightened. The metallic shine to her skin faded leaving the only a healthy tan appearance. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him tight.

A tingle of excitement shot through him. She was soft and warm, a dramatic sense of aliveness pulsing around her and through him. Her presence washed away the pained sensations of his still injured body. It pushed out everything except the loving sense of her.

“Oh.” Words failed, she was Sarai, a star shining ten times brighter than he remembered.

When she drew away, he didn’t want to let go. Afraid he would never feel that sense of one-ness with her again.

Sarai kissed him, tasting like sweet nectar. She glanced at Idun. “We’ll be ready in the morning, if you have healing for Bannor.”

Idun smiled, her green eyes glittered. “Everything will be prepared.” She turned to walk away and stopped. She looked back. “Conjure some appropriate clothes before you leave please.”

Sarai looked down at herself. The dress she’d been wearing at dinner shimmered into being, loops of taffeta and silk folding out of nothingness to surround her. Undressed she’d been magnificent, clothed in shimmering colors she was breathtaking.

“Come on, Bannor,” she said, taking his hand. “I have some making up to do, some apologies, and some catching up.”

She drew him toward the doorway.

“A word of advice,” Idun said, her tone turning serious. “Conserve your power, the more you consume, the sooner it will fade. Where you are going.” She paused, face and voice tight. “You will need it.”

Immortals. First ones. Savants. Alphas. Betas. It’s all a mess that I stumbled on quite by accident. For some reason, Gaea gave me the responsibility. I’ve had the power to make pantheon lords whimper, and have been so vulnerable that breathing was dangerous. It is the mythic curse of people who create the legends. I have it, and so do many of my friends. As they say, misery loves company…

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 5
Reborn By Dawn

« ^ »

Bannor stumbled down the hall back toward he and Sarai’s temporary quarters in Idun’s fortress. The scuff of his boots sounded loud, magnified by the vaulted ceilings of the huge passage. The air smelled of age, but it was faint, a mere background against the scent of Starflowers and Dewpetal that clung to Sarai’s hair. His beloved walked next to him like a dream, more striking than he ever imagined. She looked like a painting in motion, the torchlight and every contrast in the surroundings flattering to her appearance.

It was magic. He could sense that, but that didn’t stop his heart from aching. Four days ago, he’d confronted his pain and said goodbye to her for the last time. To see her here now was too good to be true. Watching her move, the rainbow-colored silk dress flicking around her in the drafty hall made him tremble inside. He couldn’t help but think that one moment he would close his eyes and the next the illusion would be shattered.

Sarai was looking away, gazing out through the windows and balconies that showed the parts of the giant fortress and the stars blazing in the night sky of a new land. He sensed her eagerness to meet that world head on. That was Sarai, and why he loved her. She went with a feeling and nothing deterred her. She dealt with the consequences as they came. She loved without reserve. She wanted what she wanted. That’s what brought them together. Sarai decided to love him and paid no heed to the political and familial consequences. She faced the storm without flinching. If their positions were reversed, he wasn’t sure he’d have that kind of bravery.

Outside, they could still see the drifting silhouettes of dragons, griffins, and other creatures. Seeing their shadowy forms gliding by the windows made his insides tighten. Soon he would be out there, facing dangers beyond his ken. On his homeworld of Titaan, at least he knew the enemies, understood the risks, and his capacity to deal with them. Here—everything was new … long years in the wilderness alone had taught him one ultra-critical lesson.

What you knew kept you alive, what you didn’t—made you dead.

Hades below, he didn’t even know himself! Who was he? Bannor the wilderlands trader, scout and ranger? Bannor the Savant? Bannor the god-slayer? Bannor the consort to the royal princess of Malan? Rationally, he might be any and all of those things. Now-times, none of those titles seemed to fit.

He didn’t need such worries, staying alive in this land of gods would be hard enough. He watched a huge green dragon, scales glittering in the starlight, wheel to stall and alight on one of the higher parapets. Dragons—he’d already seen more of them through these windows over the last few days than he imagined existed. So far, he’d never been closer than a few hundred paces. It made them seem less real. Soon—too soon, they would be making the acquaintance of a good many unreal creatures with hostile intent.

The prospect didn’t fill him with joy.

A tingle spread up his arm, and he felt Sarai’s hand tighten on his. He looked over and met her violet eyes. It startled him for a moment. He wasn’t used to looking up at her.

“Don’t worry,” she said. Her voice was rich, vibrant—confident. “You said we have each other.” She slipped her hand from his, encircled his waist and pulled him close. Her proximity, made him grow warm inside, feathery sensations playing through his body. “We do. More than ever.” She spoke with conviction, almost as if she were trying to convince herself. Did she doubt?

“Yes.” He couldn’t think to say anything else. She was so beautiful. If all he could do was look on her face, he would be happy. To have her here, to breathe her scent, to feel her warmth and touch, he would face anything to keep that.

“Bannor,” Sarai’s glowing eyes misted. “You are so melodramatic.” She pulled his face to her chest and hugged him. “I hear your thoughts, my One. I feel you like never before.” He heard a catch in her voice. “Sometimes, I wonder what I did to earn such devotion. I know I can be such a pushy, power hungry witch…” She made a gurgling sound and he felt her tremble. “Damn, I love it though. Love you.” She tilted his face back, put a hand behind his head and kissed him.

The passion thrilled through him like electricity, every limb going weak. Sarai held him up with apparent ease.

“My One, you can’t imagine how sinfully nice it is to be me, right now.” She ran a tongue across her lips, violet eyes glinting. “But, I’ll try hard to show you.” She pulled him close again, and helped him to walk. “Being like this,” she looked down at herself. “Wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without someone to share it with.”

His head took some time to clear enough to speak. “Can you—”

“Really read your mind? Yes.” She gave his nose a gentle tweak. “Not that I couldn’t before. You are so transparent, milove.”

He sighed. It wasn’t as if he’d never heard that before. The perils of mating the backwoods boy with the five hundred summer old sophisticate of the Malanian court. Sarai’s sister Janai and their mother Kalindinai, had only known him a short time before they could finish his sentences for him. It made him sad. Sarai’s mother, Kalindinai, was a truly great and brave woman. Without her stiff-necked determination, a whole village of innocents would have been eradicated by Hecate. She had saved his life, and made it possible for him to stop the goddess. Neither she nor Janai deserved to languish in Niflheim. For that matter, neither did Wren, Irodee, or Laramis. Whatever other reasons they might have had for helping defend him against Hecate, he honestly believed they had cared about he and Sarai’s welfare.

Sarai didn’t look at him. “We’ll get them out, my One. Put it from your mind. Worrying about it tonight will only rob you of sleep.”

He bumped her hip with his. “And you’re not planning to?”

She looked over with a raised eyebrow. “You have a choice. You sleep in the hall with a rock for a pillow and worry about them, or you can share my bed tonight.”

“Oh, is that how it is?” he asked in a wry tone.

She flipped her hair and gave him an extra wide smile. “That… is how it is.” She puckered her lips pantomiming a kiss. “Besides, I’m bigger than you.”

“Uh huh,” he looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Well, you may be bigger and a breath-takingly beautiful goddess and all—but I know your weakness…”

“Ummm?” She stopped and put hands on hips. “How’s that?”

“I—still—know—your-ticklish-spots!” He poked fingers up under her arms and into her ribs.

Sarai shrieked and jumped, back-pedaling and laughing to get away. She possessed amazing speed and easily evaded him. She finally stopped and captured him in a hug. “All right, you win. You’re my weakness—you know that. Please don’t worry. We’ll get them out, we have to, they’re depending on us.”

He drew a breath, and let it out slow. She was right. Tomorrow they would venture out into Gladsheim and try to get back their family and friends. Agonizing over it bought nothing. It wasn’t as if the time were wasted for lack of planning. They had nothing to plan with, just what Idun deigned to provide them with in the morning.

For a while, they walked in silence. The fortress was so huge, the Bannor doubted an arrow fired from his strongest bow could even reach the far end of the passage they were in. Gods. Why did Idun need all this space? What for? Was it so she could fit her ego inside? Unkind perhaps, but probably close to the truth.

He looked at Sarai’s face, and the way she smiled. She appeared in her own world. Her lips moved as though she were talking to herself. In the past, she did that when she was making lists of things to do around their cabin. What items went on a demi-goddess’ list?

“Insurance,” Sarai said, looking over.

“Pardon?”

“You asked what was on my list.”

“I didn’t ask—oh. Have to stop thinking so loudly.”

“Actually, I should stop being such a busybody.” She put her face close to his ear. “Back in our rooms, I’ll share my secret insurance.”

He gazed at her. She started humming as they continued. He recognized the melody, an Elven war ballad. Two summers of living with her taught him what that meant.

Whenever Sarai started humming there ended up being trouble.

In the village where they twice wintered, it meant she’d discovered a way to payback a slight played on her by the women’s circle. Though Sarai never did anything to set the village wives against her, they played some mean jokes on her. She took it in stride. Someone else might have been angry, but for her, it was a game. She’d been humming the day right before the head of the women’s circle was scandalized by proof she’d been using fairy glamours to cheat the local merchants.

What could Sarai be humming about? It would have to be some way she’d tricked Idun. How? There hadn’t been time. The goddess held all the options from the start, and to all appearances everything went according to Idun’s design.

He spent the rest of the long walk back to their chambers wondering. They stepped across the threshold into the room crammed with all the paraphernalia Sarai had conjured with the power that Idun gave her.

Sarai looked back at the opening that possessed no door. She narrowed her eyes. Wood and metal unfolded out of the air, slats and bands stretching to fill the opening. In a few heartbeats, a heavy scalewood door bound and bolted with iron barred the portal.

“There,” Sarai determined. “Nobody will interrupt our bathing unannounced again.”

Bannor rapped the door with his knuckles. “I know you did it, but did you do it?”

Sarai made a little humming sound. “I guess Idun was so eager to get me hooked on her apples, she forgot to cut me off from her creating powers.” She raised and lowered her eyebrows. “One other thing.” She held out her hand, took a breath and closed her eyes. One after the other, three gold objects pushed up from the surface of her palm.

A cold sensation swept through him. His first reaction was to burst out, but he kept his voice to a whisper. “The fruit! How..?”

Sarai grinned. “When I went through that—” She shuddered. “Disgusting … transformation, I bumped the table a couple times. Your fruit rolled off, so did a couple of the ones in her box. Parts of me were everywhere. I just—sucked them up when I shrank.” She sniffed. “That witch Idun. I wouldn’t have grown like that if she’d given me the flux stone first. So, thanks to her meanness, we have our insurance.”

“You’re not thinking of eating another of those things are you?” Bannor asked. He didn’t think he could take seeing that again.

“Not now, no. I’m fairly sure I could control the power with the flux stone.”

“What does the flux stone do?”

“Remember how you could control a flux point to teleport?”

He nodded.

“Same thing. The stone itself is like a tiny gateway into a place where you can put all your power and mass for safe keeping. That way you can have it and draw on it as needed. It does other things too.”

“How did you learn that?”

“The stone taught me. I told you, it’s alive. It’s difficult to explain. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that.” She walked into the center of the room where she had conjured the giant tub for their bathing. There was a large pack that would be Bannor’s tomorrow. She summoned a piece of cloth from the air and carefully wrapped the apples, then pushed them into the bottom of the pack. “You’ll feel better if you have them. Otherwise, you’d worry about my giving into temptation and eating another before it’s time.”

“Would you?” he asked. “The longer you stay that way, the harder it will be to give it up.”

Tossing her silver hair she put hands on hips. “I haven’t even had this power for a bell and you’re already talking about giving it up?”

He sighed. “Sorry. If you wanted to stay that way forever, I couldn’t object. I simply can’t stand the idea of you being a slave to her majesty. We also don’t know if prolonged use is—”

Sarai came and put a hand over his mouth. “Right now, the only thing I want your lips to be doing—is kissing me. Understand?”

He nodded. After she drew her hand away, he put his arms around Sarai and kissed her with all his heart. He loved her, he couldn’t help but express concern.

Sarai parted from their long embrace and drew him toward the center of their cluttered quarters and the bed. She sat him down, and with meticulous care removed his garments, leaving a trail of kisses as each piece of clothing was slowly pulled off.

By the time she was done, his passion for her was a blazing fire, the smell, the taste, the touch of his beloved were beyond his dreams. She was a goddess, his goddess, he basked in her love and gave his in return.

Her flesh tasted like candy, her scent intoxicating, her hums were music, and the sight and feel of her could have aroused him were he half dead. She was a glory that he paid tribute to with all his strength.

He did not sleep much that night, but he did eventually sleep. The slumber of total exhaustion and happiness. His last waking memories were of Sarai cuddled next to him, quietly humming.

The morning arrived far too soon. Years of instincts roused him from deep sleep, as Sarai glided through the room. She made no noise, but her presence had been enough to trigger him awake. He rubbed his bleary eyes.

“Uh,” he mumbled. “Is it time to leave?”

“No.” The pallet squeaked as Sarai knelt and kissed him on the forehead. “Rest, get your strength back. I’ll finish packing.”

He trailed a hand down the silky skin of her arm as she rose and went about the tasks she’d been doing. Aside from being tired, he felt wonderful, he half expected to glow. As Sarai moved some things around, he noticed that she looked different; shorter and broader. Something else, a glowing he didn’t noticed before. Lines seemed to play all around her face and hands.

He sat up abruptly, throwing off the covers. “I can see again! The Garmtur is healed!”

Sarai looked over. “Imagine that.” She hummed a little. “Maybe Idun doesn’t know everything.” She picked up a pack and stuffed clothing inside it. “You know, all the apples and healers in Gladsheim couldn’t have cured the Garmtur.”

“Huh? How do you know?”

“My One, I and your savant power have been tied together since the day we were mated two years ago. In the caves, Mother gave us both headaches, but she didn’t actually break the bond between us, she just rearranged it.” She tossed the pack on a chair and sat on the pallet with a squeak and started braiding her long hair.

Bannor scooted forward, kissed her on the shoulder, and took up the task for her. He loved braiding her hair, the feel of its silky softness playing over his fingers. “Go on,” he said, already weaving the strands together.

Sarai took one of his hands and kissed it. “Well, when you killed my body to destroy Hecate, you destroyed our bond and half the Garmtur with it.”

“Okay,” he said, not understanding. “How is it back again?”

She pushed her head against his chest. She smelled of spices and leather. “I put back the bond, and my part of the Garmtur. It’s a marvelous feeling, my One, to have us whole again. Like we were.”

He now knew what she’d meant back in Idun’s feasthall. Not to be like the old Bannor and Sarai, but to again share that magical bond that only elves and humans could have.

He finished the braid, tying it off with a thong she handed to him.

“I had another surprise this morning,” Sarai said. She bent, pressing her gathered fingers toward the floor like a spade. Her hand didn’t stop but pressed into the stone as though it were water. She made a scooping motion and came away with a large chunk of granite.

She held the blob of rock up for him to see. She wiggled her fingers and the formless mass became a perfect cube. “It’s back.”

“Your elemental magic!” He breathed. “That’s wonderful.”

“It is better than wonderful,” she said, leaning back and putting her head in his lap. “It—is—stupendous. With your Garmtur, my magic, and some well played insurance.” She kicked her legs as though swimming in water. “It isn’t Idun who will own us. We will own Idun.”

Being the mother of a mythically cursed daughter is anything but a banal experience. I have fought goddesses at her side, I have become a first one, she stole my body for a day, and I even get to be her parent once in a while. My mother thinks she’s a joy. My husband loves her fiercely. I just wish she would stay out of trouble long enough for me to love her too.

—Euriel Idundaughter Kergatha

Baroness and Mistress of the Twelve armies of Cosmodarus

Chapter 6
The First Obstacle

« ^ »

Bannor strode down the hall, shrugging to get the pack comfortable on his shoulders. Sarai skipped next to him, long braid twitching behind her like a cat’s tail. She wore a tabard of gold chain links over a hauberk of blue leather that hugged her contours like water on the sides of an ale-stein. A bow and quiver over her shoulder, a shield on her arm, and the long Ta’Kar blade and the shorter basket-hilted Ta’Dan in her belt, she resembled the Elven war goddess Matradon Bannor had seen portrayed in a temple fresco.

Morning flooded into the passageway ahead of them. Shafts of illumination shined in from the balconies and sills along the corridor forming a brilliant lattice of light. Puffs of flax and dust motes pirouetted in the sunbeams, flashing like sparks from a fire. Apparently a storm passed during the night, and the fresh smell lingered.

Bannor dropped back a few steps, admiring the glitter and shimmer of light as it played over Sarai’s shiny hair, armor, and weapons. He marveled at the fine sway in her hips, and the crisp movements of firm legs. Out of pure selfishness, he hoped she never looked different again.

She barely resembled the Sarai he met two summers ago. That Sarai had been attractive, but not beautiful. Tall for an elf, about sixteen hands, her flowing silvery hair and willowy appearance made her look as though she’d break in a strong wind. Her angular elfin face with its large upturned eyes, blade-like nose, and a pouty mouth was marvel of symmetry and severity. Only her gracefulness and easy smile had softened that stiff, untouchably dignified demeanor that her serious face and lean body conveyed. She was royalty, and looked every bit the part, even when she wasn’t playing the role.

After eating the apple, she’d transformed herself into a more robust, magnified version of herself. She now had a sleek, chiseled look, boasting more breasts and bottom than strictly necessary; most likely to accommodate him. She’d hated being in Meliandri’s ‘fat’ body, but probably noted his typically masculine response to that form’s plentiful accessories.

Over the night, she’d changed again, though not dramatically. Sarai looked heavier than he remembered. The longer he followed along enjoying her mesmerizing sway, the more certain he became. He was tempted to look in his pack to see if she’d gone after one of the three apples they’d stashed. He decided it didn’t matter. Sarai would make her own choices. What pleased her, pleased him.

Busy watching his lover instead of his feet, he stumbled over a floor seam and barely recovered. A stab of pain shot down his side and he winced. Though he’d loved every instant, last night’s clench took as much out of him as any battle, especially with his cracked ribs and strained muscles.

Sarai glanced over her shoulder. “What are you doing back there?”

He blinked at her owlishly. “Admiring the scenery is all.”

She rolled her eyes. “Get up here.” He sensed the unspoken expression of exasperation—men.

He couldn’t help but be a man. Being in love with her only made for a stronger distraction. He rubbed his sore ribs. It emphasized his vulnerability. Sarai’s healing the Garmtur had been critical to both of them. They needed every advantage to survive here in the realm of gods.

He admitted to himself that Sarai’s confidence was infecting him. With his ability to see the threads of the cosmos back, and her new elemental and magical abilities, they made a formidable team.

Even wounded and poorly armed, in the battles against Hecate’s minions they held their own. At the time, his Garmtur threatened him more than the enemy. The final confrontation with Hecate had been a trial by fire that taught him much. Now, controlling himself wasn’t half the worry of keeping Sarai reined in.

His beloved was a willful woman, especially when it involved personal power. The gold apple gave her the abilities equal to any ten wizards. Through the Garmtur, he observed the splendor of it, compressed down into the focal point of the flux stone. Somehow, she’d made the object a part of herself. It rested in the thickest part of the bone in her chest, a shining knot of threads tied to everything in the environment, the stone, the air, the clouds—and to himself. She’d apparently taken steps to ensure she never lost track of him.

She learned literally overnight. How did she do it? Most of the evening he’d kept her—occupied. His skin tingled simply thinking of it.

“What are you grinning about?” Sarai asked.

He put his hand in hers. “Remembering last night is all.”

Sarai dimpled and her violet eyes sparkled. Brushing at a stray wisp of silver hair that danced across her forehead, she bit her lip. “We’ll do that again soon.” She closed her eyes, and he felt her tremble. She reached over and pulled him in for a kiss. She tasted like sweet wine, heady and full of promise. Her smile turned fierce. “I’ll make sure we keep our appointment. No one in this realm is going to control us.”

He sighed and nodded. They turned a corner heading where servants indicated a guide would be waiting to take them to Idun. The passage ended in a large colonnade. A man dressed in chainmail waited for them at the opening. He was broad and tall with a shock of red hair, a stony face, and disturbing colorless eyes. He nodded to each of them.

“I am Ymir,” he rumbled. “Follow.” He turned on a hard boot and clomped away without bothering to see if they complied.

They pursued him down a passage that turned and slanted up. Brilliant blue light filtered out of a sky still dotted with the glowing yellow and red embers of stars. Clouds cut through with a rainbow of color drifted across the arch of the sky, broken only by the massive towers of Idun’s citadel. A strong ophidian smell became heavy as they crossed an inner courtyard. Men in armor armed with swords and shields saluted Ymir as he passed. Others busy training, halted their work and bowed.

The big warrior took only cursory note of the respect paid him, moving with dignified poise. Passing through a huge double gate in a wall, Bannor froze momentarily at the sight of dragons. They glowed all the iridescent colors of the rainbow, maroon, turquoise, emerald, and more. Most crouched on terraces above them, looking down with great double-lidded gold eyes.

Human caretakers worked around the large creatures, tending their scales with long brushes and scrapers, replenishing food and water, and fixing harnesses. It was much the same as what grooms did in a horse stable. The main difference was these mounts were house-sized with spurred wings, a spiked tail, and jaws that could slice a man in half.

Sarai stopped with him, jaw dropping open. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow. The sight of one of these creatures alone could keep a person rooted in awe. Bannor stopped counting after thirty.

“They are—they’re—It’s—”

“Impressive,” he said.

“Impressive, yes.” She nodded, letting out a breath.

Ymir stopped and turned back. “You come, She waits.”

They followed Ymir, both of them casting wary glances at the huge reptiles all only a dozen paces away. The pungent musk of the scaled creatures made Bannor’s eyes water. As they neared the end of the aviary, the gallery narrowed and ended in tall iron gates big enough for the creatures to pass in and out. A half dozen of the monsters hunched near the opening, wings and spiked tails twitching. Keepers were busy around them fitting leather harnesses, and applying a thick bluish oil to the creature’s scales that smelled vaguely like needleleaf. Ymir passed between the gathered serpents without slowing, ducking under jaws that could bite him in half.

Bannor and Sarai slowed, but he nerved himself to keep moving. Sarai hesitated but kept with him. Bannor kept a close watch on the creatures near him. They appeared to have no interest, more occupied with what the keepers were doing.

“It’s okay,” he said to Sarai. “They—”

A deafening snarl cut off his words, as a rush of putrid smelling air rushed over them, and behind it a maw filled with serrated teeth.

Sarai yelped and lunged aside as massive jaws clamped shut on air with a sound like a thunderclap. In what must have been purely instinctive move, Sarai brought her fist around and down on the dragon’s snout. Her hand was tiny compared to that horse-sized wedge of sinew and bone that was the creature’s head. The effect however, was anything but tiny. With a crack like a sledge on an anvil, the dragon’s face smashed down into the stone cobbles with a thud that made the ground shake.

The big lizard let out a surprised rumble and backpedaled, knocking aside the other dragons and dragging yelling keepers along with it. The creature didn’t stop until its haunches crashed in the aerie wall. Hissing, it stopped there, wings trembling, the fins on its head pressed flat.

“He tried to bite me!” Sarai burst out. The dragons to either side backed up a pace, heads dropped and uttering low rumbling sounds.

“Are you, okay?” he asked, taking her arm.

“Scared me,” she mumbled. She looked at her hand, apparently surprised at what she’d done.

“And me,” Bannor murmured. A flash of something white on the ground made him look down. He picked it up, then held the cone-shaped object where Sarai could see—a thumb sized fragment of dragon tooth. “Think he’s the most surprised.”

Sarai took the tooth and glared in the dragon’s direction. The creature lowered its head, then seemed to make a point of focusing its attention elsewhere.

Ymir had come several steps back toward them. The stone-faced man was trying not to show surprise, but he was obviously amazed by what Sarai had done.

The warrior cleared his throat. “You come, please.”

Bannor noted the addition of ‘please’. They followed him, trailed by the buzzing of the keepers who were pointing and gesturing after Sarai with wide eyes.

On the far side of the iron gate, the sounds of the dragon aerie quickly faded. The area beyond was a high roofed enclosure with a floor of packed dirt. Sturdy iron platforms jutted from the walls at a point right above where a tall man could reach.

Light came in through a large double opening at the far end. A figure stood illumined in the light. As they came close, Bannor recognized Idun, her blonde hair glistening like gold, and silver robes reflecting the bright sun like a mirror.

Idun turned at their approach. She nodded to Ymir. The big warrior knelt before her and bowed his head. Idun ran a hand through the man’s thick red hair, then slid it to his shoulder. When she drew her hand away he rose and bowed again. At her gesture, he turned and left.

Idun watched the man walk away before focusing on them. The goddess looked from Bannor to Sarai and smiled broadly. “Oh, well met, well met.” She came and walked around Sarai. “You are a fast learner.” On her second circuit, she stopped directly in front of his beloved. She put her hands behind her back, eyes narrow. Rising to her toes and bouncing, the goddess nodded. Bannor guessed it wasn’t a nod of approval, but instead a confirmation of suspicions. Idun slowly focused her attention on him. “You are the Garmtur again. I don’t suppose you will share how that was accomplished?”

Sarai raised her chin. He certainly wouldn’t say anything.

Idun sighed. “Well, you are still due the healing I promised.” From her sash, Idun produced a tall vial of bluish liquid. “This is the strongest healing potion available.”

Bannor took the container offered to him, swirling the contents around. It looked familiar. He uncorked it, and took a sample sniff.

The powerful acrid odor made him jerk his head back. His nose felt singed. “This is safe?”

Idun nodded.

He dipped the tip of a finger in the powerful smelling concoction and tasted it. The bitter taste made his whole body convulse. “Bleah! It’s more of that dragon whiz!”

Idun scowled and glanced at the vial with a raised eyebrow. “A dragon hasn’t diddled within a hundred paces of that container.” She sniffed at the bottle as though unsure. “The taste is unpalatable, but hardly the elimination of wyrmkin.”

“Bannor,” Sarai chided. “Drink the potion and stop being a baby.”

“Oh?” He offered her the bottle. “Sip it, then tell me I’m a baby.”

She stepped back, face paling. She knew how vile the stuff tasted. “Darling, I’m fine. You need the healing.”

He let out a breath and shuddered. Composing himself, he concentrated on the Garmtur, lowering his defenses to the potion’s magic. Holding his nose, he tilted his head back and downed it all in one gulp.

Far stronger than any of the other potions he’d taken before, this stuff burned his throat like fire. Tears welled in his eyes. Where other potions cured with a wave of warmth, this magic felt like being flogged.

He went to his knees, skin glowing a fervent green color, flashes of magic sputtering around the areas his greatest injuries. He gasped, as the magic sizzled through him.

Sarai knelt by him, holding his shoulder. It took a while before he could finally draw a breath again. Bannor looked up to Idun.

The goddess wore a stern expression, as though something bad were about to happen. “As I said, Garmtur, the strongest I had.”

Sarai helped him rise, his knees still felt wobbly from the pain, but he sensed that the potion had worked. Opening and closing his fingers, he tensed the muscles in his arm and shoulder. Even the soreness had vanished. A few flexes of his arm revealed that even the weeks old atrophy caused by Hecate’s paralyzing gray death seemed gone. For the first time in tendays, he felt fully fit. Ironic, to be returned to the peak of health so some minion of the gods could cut his life short.

Idun placed a hand on his shoulder. It felt as though a cool wind blew through Bannor, sweeping away the shakiness and making him feel strong. “You look well, good.”

Sarai took his hand and glared at Idun.

The goddess raised an eyebrow and took her hand away from him. “Come here to the balcony, Sarai.” She turned and walked back to where she’d been standing when they came in. As the goddess stepped outside, the glare from her mirrored robes made Bannor shield his eyes.

Sarai stared at Idun’s back for a moment before following. Bannor went with her, stepping into the brilliant blue light.

The wind cascaded over the narrow parapet that looked off the high citadel wall. Arrayed below them was a vast panorama of hilly lowlands, a wrinkled green and brown carpet dotted with copses of scalebark, darkwood, and split-leaf. Three rivers cut through the landscape forming a vast triangle pointing toward the brightest illumination in the sky. In the middle of the scenery, a single black spot appeared out of place. Bannor wasn’t sure how, but he knew it was a person—a man, standing leagues away. It was impossible to see something man-sized that far away. Yet, his eye told him if it was bigger than a man it wasn’t by much…

Sarai stiffened and her fingers went to the spot where Bannor knew she kept the flux stone. “Heimdall,” she murmured.

Idun’s head jerked and she stared at Sarai. “Yes … Heimdall.” Her tone had a hard and incredulous edge.

“The guardian of Asgard?” Bannor asked.

“The never sleeping sentry,” Idun said looking to him. As she spoke, her gaze drifted back to Sarai who leaned on the parapet merlons intent on the distant figure. “The god who sees across the void, and can hear the falling of a leaf a hundred leagues away.”

“He’s watching for us,” Sarai said looking back to them. “If it weren’t for…” Narrowing her eyes, she stepped back and touched the mirror bright fabric of Idun’s sleeve. “He would already see us.”

“So, how do we slip away undetected?” Bannor asked.

Idun folded her arms, gazing toward the distant figure. “It’s not as if we have much choice, Garmtur. He will hear you or see you the moment you leave my citadel. So, there’s only one thing we can do.”

Sarai moved close to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at his beloved, feeling a tightness in his stomach. “And that is?”

The goddess pursed her lips. “We kill him.”

When it first came to me to marry Bannor it was a defiance of my father. Later I wanted it because I was addicted to his devotion. Seasons into the decision, it is because I cannot live without him and he is lost without me. Besides, without Bannor, my life would be immeasurably more dull.

—Arminwen Sarai T’Evagduran

Third Princess of Malan

Chapter 7
A Crazy Kind of Cleverness

« ^ »

Standing in the light of Gladshiem’s bright blue sky, Bannor stared at the goddess, his vision fuzzy from the glare of Idun’s mirrored robes. His stomach twisted as he struggled to come to grips with what she had said. The first thing from his lips was a sputter. Sarai beat him to understandable words.

“Kill Heimdall!?” Sarai let out. “What kind of plan is that?”

Idun stared at Sarai, green eyes glinting. “A simple plan.”

“Simply ludicrous, perhaps,” Sarai growled. “We are in enough trouble for killing a goddess who deserved to die. If we’re involved in the death of some other deity we’ll be hunted to the ends of the universe!”

The goddess sniffed. “Are you saying you’re frightened?”

Bannor could not believe his ears. “No, she’s saying it’s a bad plan. Sarai and I both know killing is a last resort, especially when we’re not at war yet. First blood would throw down the gauntlet and start the conflict.”

Idun sighed and looked toward the leagues distant black dot they knew to be Heimdall, guardian of Gladshiem and the bifrost bridge. She nodded, tight face relaxing. “You are right.”

Bannor had gathered his energy to go into a list of other reasons such a thing would be unwise, but Idun’s abrupt agreement caught him by surprise. “What?”

“So,” Sarai said, expression dark. “You know it’s a wrong headed thing to do, and you’re willing to do it anyway?”

Idun scowled. “No, it’s foolish, and I am no fool. I was merely curious to know if either of you would go along.”

Bannor sagged against the parapet wall. He could do without tests like that. “Okay—” he stopped himself, forced his composure and went on. He couldn’t believe they were wasting time on such sparing. “So, how will we get past Heimdall?”

Idun turned and put her back to the parapet merlons and rose up to sit on one of the massive blocks. Looking down at them she said, “desperation.”

“Desperation?” Sarai echoed.

Bannor stayed quiet, waiting for an elaboration.

The goddess looked at him, her gaze drifting to Sarai and then back to him. “Desperation,” she said again in a softer voice. She looked directly into the light blazing in the sky. The brightness obviously didn’t hurt her eyes because she didn’t blink. She squared her shoulders, held out a hand and a roll of parchment sparkled into being across her palm. Without looking away from the light she handed the scroll down to Bannor.

He unfurled the parchment and looked at an intricately finished map depicting the mountain bordered high plains and Asgard, and far to the south the crag and forest infested land of Niflheim, land of the dead. Between the two points on the map, Bannor guessed that some six or seven hundred leagues were represented. Even on horseback, several tendays of travel, barring difficulties.

Sarai looked over his shoulder and drew a breath. She no doubt thought what he did, the distance alone was a major obstacle.

“If you could use magical transport, the trip would be inconsequential. However, Odin will be watching for that. If you try, he will snatch you from the ether faster than you can blink.” She made a grabbing gesture in the air. “Heimdall stands guard to make you want to use magic to escape being noticed. Even if you somehow slip by him, Odin will have many minions set to run you to ground. Dragonback is the only traveling method fast enough to give us any chance of success. We can’t count on my peers casting their lots with me, even with the offer of the golden fruit. So, we must assume it will be me alone against many.” Bannor saw the muscles in the goddess’ throat work. She closed her eyes and put her hands in her lap. “You must rescue my children and quickly.” The goddess took a breath. “Otherwise, we all perish.”

“That doesn’t explain how we get past Heimdall,” Bannor said.

“Cleverness,” Idun said. “A crazy kind of cleverness.”

Sarai exchanged looks with him. Her violet eyes betrayed the same doubt that he felt. Idun was grasping, probably not having a viable plan. It must be why she would not look at them.

“So, go on,” Sarai prompted.

Idun still did not look up but stared at her hands. “We must do something Odin would not expect.” She raised her head. The expression on the goddess’ face was not one he ever expected to see—trepidation. “Bannor?”

“Yes, majesty.”

“With the Garmtur healed, you can see the threads and pattern of my power, correct?”

Bannor concentrated the way he had learned. Calling upon the pattern he recognized to be himself, his key to the Nola’s reality bending power. As his Garmtur tickled in his mind, he saw multicolored threads playing around Idun, they became more distinct as he concentrated. So many threads, far more than he’d ever seen around an avatar or even around Hecate herself. Idun had said she would grow powerful. She had done so, to a huge degree.

“Yes,” he said. “I see the pattern.”

“Take it.”

“What?”

“Take my pattern.” Her voice was hard—forced. Someone giving a directive they did not want to give.

Bannor stared at Idun. The fear on her face was abruptly clear to him. “You realize…”

“Starfist…” Idun gritted. “Take my pattern, my defenses are down.”

Bannor drew a breath, delving his senses into the complicated filigree that was Idun’s self. He passed through layer after layer of magic that would have ordinarily have kept him from seeing the goddess’ true pattern. At first, he thought his power was failing because her prime essence appeared so simple, less complex than either he or Sarai’s. Then as he dug into it with his senses he realized it wasn’t simple, it was dense, like the god’s body. Intricate weaves wound with incredible tightness that made them appear solid to anything other than the Garmtur’s power. With careful passes he unwound the strands and memorized Idun’s tracery. Within a few mental ‘breaths’, he’d committed her unique identity, her ‘self’, to memory.

He nodded to indicate he’d done what she requested. Idun sagged, and he felt dozens of magical defenses slam into place, once again hiding her most valuable secret from prying magic.

The goddess shuddered. “I am taking a desperate risk, but only because I know that unlike many,” she glanced at Sarai. “You can be trusted, Bannor. Power is not attractive to you. Honor, duty, and loyalty are ideals you believe in.”

This was so boggling. Truly, the goddess must be desperate. A mortal entrusted with the true-name of an immortal. Potentially, it gave him the ability to control her the way a puppeteer manipulated mannequins of wood. “How does this help us?”

Idun’s voice was flat. Her face turned stony. “It will allow you to become my avatar.”

“What!?” Both he and Sarai blurted the word at the same time.

Idun held up a hand. “Not succorund. That binding is a destructive domination of a host body. Da’succorund, the incomplete melding would not be satisfactory either. Both of them are … permanent conditions. There is another form of avatarism, the ki’succorund—which is simply a sharing.” She adjusted herself on the wall, composing herself with obvious effort. His knowing her tracery apparently made the goddess extremely nervous. “My pattern can link us so that I might perform functions that neither of us could do alone.”

“No,” Sarai determined. “This is too dangerous.”

“So, what then, little girl?” Idun slid down to stand before them. “Will you conceal yourself and him from Heimdall? Are you confident you can get past without being sensed?”

“No.”

“Well, with my abilities added to the Garmtur … we could certainly do it.”

“We could do practically anything,” Bannor said, gaze focused on Idun’s penetrating green eyes. “Don’t you realize, that’s what Hecate wanted from me? I won’t be controlled by you.”

Idun raised her hands in a placating gesture. “You have my pattern, not the other way around. The link will only be open between us as long as you keep it open.”

Trust. She had the gall to ask him to trust her. Idun was not one to be broaching issues of trust. She’d proven herself to be less than trustworthy.

Of course, she’d given him her pattern. The ultimate weapon against any creature mortal or otherwise. She knew he wasn’t the kind to plot or attack unless provoked. No doubt she felt she could conveniently destroy him later.

Desperation. She was desperate. So was he. If he went along, Idun would eventually have to strike at him. She couldn’t allow him to go on living with that knowledge. If they survived this war, it would only be a matter of time. There was no way around it, unless he took decisive action to protect himself and Sarai.

He unfocused on Idun, turning his vision inward and to the precious gem of the goddess’ spirit pattern. He expanded it until it filled his mind with a glowing nimbus of writhing lines and colors. He called on the Garmtur, wrapping its pattern around Idun’s.

He pushed one desire into the matrix.

I wish Idun were incapable of treachery that will lead to harming Sarai or myself.

Bannor felt a wrenching in his chest, and a sudden wave of weakness as the Garmtur’s pattern flared white, and then an instant later Idun’s own pattern twisted and flashed.

He opened his eyes, seeing his arms covered with a golden glow.

Idun stepped back. “What did you do?”

“Like you, I want insurance.”

Her eyes went wide. “You need no—” She broke off as seizure rocked her body. She shuddered and fell to her knees. “Ahhh!” She gripped her head. “What did—” She winced, raised a finger, then gripped her head again, rocking back and forth. The ground vibrated and thunder rumbled in the distance.

“It will pass,” he said, keeping his voice firm. He was taking a big chance that Idun wouldn’t kill them right now. He was gambling that she needed them too badly at this point. “It is nothing harmful.” He felt exhausted, but he tried to keep it hidden. Using the Garmtur always took tremendous energy, especially affecting a creature as powerful as Idun. Without her pattern, he couldn’t have done it.

“Bannor?” Sarai put a hand on his shoulder. “What—?”

“I made sure we’d be safe, Star. She can’t betray us anymore, can’t even think to do it.”

Sarai’s eyes widened. “You can do that?”

He sized up his beloved, now bigger than him and charged with immortal energy. “I learned a lot about the Garmtur right before Hecate took you. It’s how I defeated her.” He kept an eye on Idun. The goddess was recovering, he could already feel her anger swelling.

Idun growled, shaking off the effects and rising. Sarai stepped between Idun and himself.

“That was unnecessary,” the goddess snarled, a red light shining in her eyes and surrounding her body. “I gave you no leave to—”

“We gave you no leave to do what you did to us,” Sarai cut in. Her own body starting to glow. Did she think she could stop Idun? He steeled himself to get her and himself out of the way, should Idun decide to attack. “You weren’t harmed.”

Idun gritted her teeth, sucking air in a hiss. She looked past Sarai and stared at him. The ground shook. “What did you do, Garmtur?”

“Nothing harmful, unless you plan treachery against us,” he said.

Idun narrowed her gleaming eyes. “You’d best hope so. It is no treachery to smash you for violating my mind.”

Bannor tried to still the shaking in his hands. This creature was angry, and possessed immense power. “You need us, we need you. The sooner we go, the sooner we’ll get your children.”

Idun’s lips pressed to a line. “You are lucky time is of the essence.”

Bannor stared hard at her. “You are fortunate that I am honorable.”

The goddess snorted, and visibly worked at mastering herself. It was apparent he’d done something unexpected and frightening. Now, she knew how it felt.

Idun’s voice came forced. “Once you get past Heimdall, you will fly to a village named Iriedlung some hundred leagues south and west.” She grew more composed as she spoke. “I have provided barter and funds for your journey, as well as notes for those of my faithful. Upon reaching Iriedlung, if there are other tasks the need doing you will be informed.” She locked eyes with Sarai for a long moment. “The dragons can fly you within a hundred leagues of Nifelheim, but no closer. Hel’s magic robs them of their strength as it does all immortals.”

Bannor swallowed and glanced toward the dot he new to be the guardian god. “So, how do we combine our powers?”

Idun raised her chin. “It will be easy Garmtur—too easy. The hard part will be uncombining.”

“For you or me?” he asked.

Idun’s face set and her gaze tracked to Sarai for a moment. “You know nothing of what it is to be a god.” A muscle in her cheek twitched. “I have no experience as a Savant of Reality.” She paused. “Neither of us has been both. We might like it.”

Sarai took his arm. “The powers of the savants and gods were not meant to be together.”

Idun smiled. “You mean outside of a first one they weren’t meant to be. If I had his spark of Gaea, or if he had my immortal blood, we’d be as any of Alpha’s first children.” Idun stopped, eyes narrowing. “You knew that.” The goddess folded her arms. “That is what I sensed. Oh child, you are more ambitious than I even imagined.”

Bannor didn’t like the sound of that. “What are you talking about?”

The goddess shook her head. “I thought he would be the problem.” Idun’s gaze went to Bannor. “Her plots are between you and her.”

“I don’t…”

“She’s right,” Sarai said with a sharp tone. “It’s between you and me. It’s nothing that can’t wait until later. We need to get underway before Odin’s hordes come stomping in here.”

Idun frowned. “Let’s go to the dragons.” She lead the way back to the aerie.

Bannor could tell from the stiffness of the goddess’ walk that she was still upset over the way he’d used the Garmtur on her. Even though what he had done was essentially wrong, he simply couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. He was protecting himself and Sarai.

Sarai held onto his arm. Her face looked composed but her brow was furrowed, whether with worry or merely concentration he couldn’t tell. Idun’s mention of Sarai’s ambition worried him. What had she done? Did it relate to the physical change he noted in her?

As they neared the gated opening, they could hear dragons growling and keepers yelling and struggling. The noise grew to levels of pandemonium as Idun stepped through the opening ahead of them.

As they crossed into the brighter light of the aerie, Idun gasped. Before Bannor even registered the source of the goddesses’ surprise, the Garmtur flared in his vision showing a giant tangled mass of elemental threads.

“Traitors!” Boomed a gigantic voice.

Before he could even move, Bannor felt a hand clamp around his throat and yank him off his feet. At the same time, Idun was also grabbed and lifted. The hiding magics peeled away, revealing a giant red-bearded man with a short handled hammer shoved into his belt.

Sarai was moving, but she was already too late. Thor, the god of thunder, had them in his grasp.

I met Bannor Starfist under unusual circumstances, a situation of incredible duress both for him and myself. I had secretly charged my granddaughter with locating him, never realizing what I was getting both her and him into. I had thought that Hecate’s prior promises would keep her away from Wren and protect both of them. I underestimated both the Moon Goddess’ hate and her desperation. I never imagined the result, and certainly didn’t anticipate the repercussions. I guess that shows that even after more than fifty millennia of life, I still have a lot to learn.

—Idun of Asgard

Prime Pantheon Progenitor of the Aesir

Chapter 8
Thunderlord’s Assault

« ^ »

Bannor’s heart thundered in his ears, and fear jolted through his limbs as Thor’s crushing grip tightened on his throat. His vision flickered as he pried at the massive fingers holding him suspended above the ground. Dragons bugled. Wind rushed. He smelled the rank gust of Thor’s ale-saturated breath. Somewhere he heard Sarai yell.

Thud-da.

He gritted his teeth, kicking with all his strength at the red-bearded juggernaut. The impact of his heels against the immortal’s exposed ribs rattled Bannor’s teeth. Focused on Idun, Thor didn’t even appear to notice.

Dots swam before Bannor’s eyes. Thor grunted and staggered a step as something slammed into him. The god pivoted to face his assailant still holding Bannor and Idun.

Sword in hand, Sarai was drawing back to strike again. Bannor felt and saw energies flare around Thor.

Ice raced through Bannor’s veins. “No!” he cried.

His warning came too late. Lightning erupted from the god’s eyes. The bolts struck Sarai in the chest sending her hurtling backward as though shot from a crossbow. Dragons and men scattered as she hit the aerie wall, sending shattered rock in all directions. Bannor could only watch in horror as Sarai’s limp body collapsed out of the swirling dust to lay still on the cobbles.

Thud-da.

Idun raised a glowing hand to grip Thor’s arm. The thunder god dropped to one knee and slammed the goddess’ face into the granite-cobbles with a ground shaking crash.

The war-god pressed his advantage without mercy. He hammered the female immortal into the turf, the crashes like a mallet pounding a giant drum. All was lost unless one of them could rally.

Thud-da.

Bannor threw all his strength against Thor’s inexorable power. He caught a glimpse of Sarai’s slumped body and felt both despair and rage well up in him. It came as a rush of heat that started at his toes and drove through his body like a tidal wave.

Desperation helped Bannor focus. Summoning the Garmtur, he swung his hand like a blade into the Thunder-god’s exposed throat.

Crackling with the Garmtur’s energies, Bannor’s hand snapped and stretched magical threads all around Thor as he drove his fingers into the hard part of the god’s wind-pipe.

Thor who let out a deafening howl as Bannor’s assault cut into him. The god flailed, trying to pummel Bannor against the ground as he’d done with Idun.

Bannor increased his focus on the Garmtur, grabbing the tangled mass of the god’s threads and yanking downward the way he might tear the waxed-paper from a window pane.

The son of Odin bellowed. The sonic force of his vocalization crumbled rocks and tore shreds of flesh from Bannor’s arms and face. Thor reeled to his feet. Bannor jerked free as the god fought to catch his balance.

Pain shrieked through his body, and he felt blood leaking from his wounds. In a crater at Thor’s feet, Idun lay sprawled in a crimson splashed mess. His stomach tightened as a glance across the aerie revealed Sarai still hadn’t moved. Had Thor killed her? Bannor’s hands went to his axes and gripped them with white knuckle force. Lose her again? His heart would shatter.

Thor shook his head, regaining his composure. It would take attacks a dozen times as strong to really shake him. Thor was the god of war. His strength was rivaled by none, not even Odin.

The war-god came here to put them in Niflheim. Emerge victorious or die trying, the Aesir knew no middle ground. Bannor drew his hand-axes and whirled into the immortal. Their mithril heads rang as they whacked the steel-hard body of the god. Willing elemental threads to surround his weapons, he struck again. The god staggered.

With every bit of will and strength Bannor drove on. The Garmtur’s power could damage the giant. As he pressed, he realized that even augmented by the Garmtur, his attacks were only inflicting superficial injury. During Hecate’s war, Bannor learned to constrain the Garmtur to safe levels. If he unleashed the Nola’s full potential to disable the immortal, the backlash could cause untold destruction.

Bannor barely saw Thor move. One instant the deity was backpedaling, the next, Mjolnir the hammer of thunder was arcing around. Bannor tried to dodge as the most renowned magic weapon in Asgard cracked into him.

The hammer made only a glancing contact, impelled by a mere flick of Thor’s wrist. Just the same, Mjolnir’s irresistible power hit Bannor like a hurricane. One instant he was upright and retreating, the next, a blast of pain and air whistled in his ears. The world toppled around him.

He crashed on one shoulder, flipped, hit his side, then cartwheeled hard into the armored side of a dragon. The creature was only a fraction softer than a wall. It let out a ‘huff’ of surprise and a snarl of pique, jumping sideways and turning to peer at its attacker.

Only survival instinct kept Bannor moving. He rolled onto his hands-and-knees, then dove aside as Thor charged forward and brought a foot down to stomp him.

Instants to live. Desperation. Bannor glanced at the still body of Idun. Still no help. Words rang in his head. Cleverness. A crazy kind of cleverness. As Thor surged forward, Bannor called her symbol into his mind, and reached out to the tangled-mass of glowing threads that was the goddess’ power.

The Garmtur flared starbright in his mind. A thrill shot through Bannor, incredible strength burst into him. Everything appeared to slow, the movement of the charging war-god, the people scrambling out of the aerie, the frightened dragons taking wing.

In those stretched-out instants, Bannor sensed Idun’s incredible magic swelling in him. The vitality of a star that burned ever hotter and brighter. Enough potential to stop Thor, if that same potential didn’t turn him to a cinder first.

He sidestepped the juggernaut’s hammer and put all the energy exploding through him behind a two-handed strike into the small of the immortal’s back.

Thor bellowed as he toppled across the aerie to impact the granite wall like a boulder launched from a catapult. The ground shook as tons of rock shattered by the collision rained on top of the Asgardian deity.

“Bastard,” Bannor gritted. “If you’ve killed Sarai, there’ll be a lot more hurting to do.”

Pain shot through Bannor and he realized he’d reached his limit for holding Idun’s immortal life-forces. He rushed to goddess, took her head in his hands and willed her ravaged form to be repaired.

The goddess’ shattered face reformed as sparks spiraled around her body. Despite all of her tissues being restored, Idun showed no sign of regaining consciousness. Using the magic had relieved some of the pressure, but the power immediately mounted again. Rays of light shone from his body like beacons from a light house. Shrieks of pain went up and down his limbs as the Garmtur became over-saturated.

“Wake up, damn you!” He shook the goddess’ still form.

“Need some help, my One?”

He spun at the sound of the voice. “Sarai—!” He choked off the word as a spasm of pain wracked him. “You’re all right!” A ragged circle had been melted through her golden armor, revealing the reddened and burned skin of her torso. He rose and threw his arms around her.

“I’m tougher now,” she murmured in his ear. “Oooo, so much magic! Since it’s hurting you, I think I’ll borrow some.” Sarai’s violet eyes grew brighter. The light shining from him bent toward his beloved, vanishing into her skin. “Mmmm, you taste good.” The ripping pain lessened as her body grew hot next to his.

The ground rumbled and Bannor glanced to where he knew Thor lay buried. The rocks trembled and shafts of red light lanced out of the pile.

“We have to get Idun up! She’s the only one able to stop him.”

Sarai glanced at the shaking debris. “You’ve got her power now. Can’t we just leave the witch as she is?”

“Sarai, we need her experience and strength.”

“Damn, I wish you were wrong.” She broke away from him. Immediately, he felt the sensation of being jammed to overflowing again. How could Sarai hold all that?

“Thor attacked Idun’s one weakness,” Sarai said, reaching down into the crater where Idun had lain. She picked up something and she held it up for Bannor to see.

Small and black, and made of what looked like glass, it was a simple rhomboid shape. “Her flux stone!” he said in surprise.

“Apparently, Thor knew Idun’s stone could be dislodged with enough hammering.” Sarai put a finger to her forehead between her eyes. “So the ruthless blackguard went right after it—bloody mess.” She came and put her arm around him again. He felt her siphoning off the force. “Oooh.”

“Isn’t that bad for you?”

“Worse for you, my One. I won’t explode—at least not right away.”

That was debatable. He noticed her body thickening with Idun’s energies. The ground rumbled again, and chunks of rock slid from the pile imprisoning Thor.

“Wake her up!”

Not letting go of him, Sarai bent and placed the flux stone on Idun’s blood smeared forehead. The gem flashed white and the goddess’ body jerked. The immortal’s eyes snapped open and Bannor let go of the power as he felt the goddess snatch back its control.

The Asgardian woman grabbed the flux stone from her forehead, and sat up. “Norn’s blood! What happened?”

“Thor pounded the flux stone out of you.” Sarai said. She pointed to the rocks where a hand was now thrusting up through. “In a moment, he’ll try again.”

Idun gritted her teeth, rising to her feet. The immortal wobbled, but righted herself. She looked at Bannor. “What did you do to him?”

Bannor shrugged. “Hit him with a combination of your power and the Garmtur.”

With a roar, Thor finally shook off the last of the granite that had been covering him. He staggered out of the rocks, the hammer Mjolnir gleaming in his fist. Fire burned in the Asgardian’s eyes. Bannor saw elemental threads around Thor brightening. The god was readying to bring all his magicks to bear.

As he looked at the deity, Bannor saw that he’d hit the god harder than he realized. The Asgardian’s wounds were severe, his whole aura had only a fraction of its strength when the encounter started. Whether the difference would be enough to defeat the war-lord remained to be seen.

“Surrender!” Thor boomed.

Idun stiffened. “I think not. It is you who must surrender. I am healed and fresh … you are not.”

Thor’s fingers tightened and loosened on Mjolnir. Bannor had felt the caress of that hammer, and had no desire to repeat the experience. Legend said that the Thundergod could throw Mjolnir with tremendous accuracy.

Sarai pulled Bannor tight to her side. She crackled with vitality. No sign of fear or trepidation. She was ready for battle. Bannor guessed being able to dust herself off after making a crater in block wall lent confidence.

All he could remember was the fear he experienced when Thor hit her and not knowing whether or not she was dead.

Dragons roared overhead, circling, clearly over their initial fright. Some were landing in the upper reaches of the aerie golden eyes intent on the confrontation. Keepers and others of Idun’s retinue had recovered from their initial shock and were moving to where they could take action if necessary.

Storm clouds darkened the sky and rumbling echoed in the distance.

Idun’s eyes filled with a red light. Magic sparked and rasped around her hands. She swelled to three times her normal size, then spoke in a booming voice that rattled the aerie. “Choose Odinson, you have attacked me and failed. Fight, surrender, or join me. You have no other options.”

“Join a traitor, I think not,” the Asgardian rumbled.

“Am I a traitor, Odinson? Or a right Lady of Asgard wronged so your Father’s vengeance against Euriel can go unobstructed?”

Thor took a breath. He frowned, brow beetling. Bannor could tell the god was more than willing to stall in order to recover his strength. “Euriel and those others conspired to annihilate an immortal.”

Idun folded her arms. “So?”

“So!?” Thor burst out. “That violates all our laws!”

The goddess was unmoved. “Name one, Odinson.”

Thor opened his mouth then shut it. The light in his burning eyes dimmed. “So, it’s more of an unwritten law,” he admitted.

“Are you willing to die or kill me for an unwritten law being applied over the death of an insane goddess, whom you yourself hated? Come now Odinson, does that make sense?”

“My sire does not have to make sense, Lady Idun. His will is law.”

“Even if that will is merely to get even for the embarrassment of his son!” Sarai burst out. “Idun told us about Euriel and Bragi. Surely, of anybody, you would know if this is more about saving face than meting justice!”

Thor raised Mjolnir to his chest, gripping it with both hands. The light in his eyes faded completely, revealing their icy blue color. “I admit there is something to what you say. I am sorry Milady, even if you are right, it changes nothing. He is the Allfather and it is everyone’s duty, including mine, to serve.”

“No!” Bannor yelled. “Only a common soldier turns a blind eye to that which brings dishonor to the crown. A true warrior supports not only his liege, but those things that keep the kingdom strong and pure.”

Thunder rumbled as Thor’s face clouded. “Were you less of a warrior, I would kill you for the implication in your words alone.”

“His standing as a warrior has nothing to do with him being right, Thor,” Idun said. “Will you be a coward and bend a knee to your father’s excess, or will you demonstrate your courage by standing up for what you know to be right?”

Bannor looked up at the now giant goddess. She was smart as well as powerful. Talk of honor and warriors had touched the god’s pride. It set him up for Idun’s hook. Now, could she reel him in…

Thor bristled, tiny bolts of lighting cracked around him. He shook Mjolnir in their direction. “I am no coward.”

Bannor let out a breath, he felt Sarai sag next to him. They saw Idun smile, knowing what she would say. Thor was trapped, only he didn’t know it yet.

Idun said two words, but with rumbling conviction. “Prove it.”

Imagine raising the same daughter twice, or at least raising a girl you thought was your daughter. Worse, raising a daughter who was a growing disappointment. Then, miraculously out of nowhere drops your “real” daughter—feisty, strong, capable almost everything the other girl was not. You still love your daughter—or who you thought was your daughter. It’s a parent’s instinct to care for their progeny. Since the day our original Liandra came back to us, it has been a challenge for me. She is an easy girl to love—but what of poor flawed counterfeit Liandra? She loved us too. What should become of her even though she is but a mere shadow compared to the ‘sister’ she had been designed to replace?

—Vanidaar Kergatha

Baron of Cosmodarus

Chapter 9
The Odinson’s Pride

« ^ »

Bannor stood in the shadow of Thor. The god’s legend was the paradigm after which fighting men fashioned themselves. Bannor grew up on the lore of Odin, Thor, and the valiant deeds of the Aesir. Sitting around the campfire, he heard many stories telling of the long feuds between Aesir and the Vanir, and the ongoing war with the giants. Never in his wildest childhood dreams did he ever imagine himself meeting a god, except maybe in the afterlife.

In a handful of fortnights he not only met a god, but had slain one. He’d become the reluctant ally of a goddess, Idun, and had met the Asgardian thundergod Thor in single combat.

His whole body ached, and he wished that like a dream he could just wake up. No, this was real. He could smell the huge Asgardian. He smelled like weapon oil, ale, and—goats. Why did he smell like goats? It wasn’t a question he’d be quick to put to the immortal.

Sarai pulled him tighter against her side and nuzzled his neck. She smelled of leather, starflower soap, and a sweet odor that he suspected was perspiration; or what must pass for it when a mortal was charged with immortal magic. As he felt the warmth of his beloved’s skin, he had to add the possibility of marrying a goddess to his list of ‘undreamed-of’ events. If Sarai found a way, he was sure she would keep the magic she’d gained. She was drawn to power like steel to a lodestone.

“I like not the idea of defying Odin,” Thor rumbled in his ale-keg voice. He wiped a dusty arm across his forehead, leaving a dirty streak on his pale skin. The god still looked disheveled and battered from the battle. Short of shattering the bindings of time and space, Bannor had focused every bit of the Garmtur’s power on the Asgardian war-lord. It barely sufficed. Thor looked from Idun to Bannor with an appraising expression. Stroking his thick red beard, electric-blue eyes narrowed, he appeared to catalogue Bannor’s every detail. His attention shifted to Sarai, scrutinizing her with the same intensity.

“I like less that you seek to shame me into joining your cause,” he said to Idun.

Idun sniffed. “Shame, Odinson? What shame is there in backing the truth?”

“The shame of foolishness, and allowing myself to become involved with these mortals.”

Sarai stiffened at Bannor’s side. She cleared her throat and spoke with clipped precision. “What of the greater shame of surrendering to a woman, and being beaten by a mortal.”

Thor glared at Sarai. “Neither of those things have occurred,” he rumbled. The ground trembled, and the dragons above them twitched nervously on their perches.

Bannor was still seething with anger over Thor’s attack on Sarai. Nobody, mortal or god, hurt her without answering for it. His voice was raspy with exertion and his efforts to stay in control. “Agree to help us, or we’ll have to finish what we started.” Thoughts of Sarai being driven into the wall made hot flashes of rage go through him. The Nola tingled and pulsed in his mind. He was tired, but he had enough strength to throw a thread around Thor’s neck and choke the Hades out of him.

The thundergod regarded him with narrowed eyes. Bannor returned the stare. After seeing Sarai nearly killed by this brute, Bannor’s rage and anxiety had simmered to cold stew of fury. Even if he was the son of the Allfather, he’d find a way to make him pay.

Sarai ran a soothing hand against the back of Bannor’s neck, obviously feeling his tension. “I’m all right, my One,” she whispered in his ear. “Really.”

He put his arm around her and held tight. Even though Sarai had not been seriously injured, Thor’s intent had been to incapacitate or kill, that was what mattered to Bannor.

“Odinson, I advise cooperation.” Idun said in a level voice. “The Garmtur is riled. He’s still capable of a great deal more.”

Thor snorted. “He was lucky, he would not—”

Bannor acted. Thor used surprise and relentless assault to disable Idun, this time he would be the victim of his own tactics.

The god gagged convulsively as Bannor struck with the Nola. He had already envisioned a thread of elemental force choking the life from the deity. With the image crystal clear in his mind, he whipped the magic home and bore down. He had been taught all his life to respect the divinity of gods and the laws handed down to mortals by them.

For fortnights now, he’d been chased, manipulated, deceived, and hurt by these creatures. They were all arrogant spoiled tyrants who preyed on lesser creatures. Thor had hurt Sarai and didn’t feel the least bit guilty. Time he had the fear of mortals put in him.

Thor clasped his throat with glowing hands, trying to dislodge the magical garrote that Bannor had pulled tight. Gritting his teeth, Bannor swept up all of Thor’s threads and bore down on those as well, cutting into the sources of elemental energy that gave him his immortal strength.

Eyes narrowed, a throbbing pain behind his eyes, Bannor remembered the last battle with Hecate. With enough determination, he could sever all of the connections that made Thor an immortal. He would prove to these beings that he would not be bullied or discounted. Sarai stood behind him, hands gripping his shoulders, obviously sharing the intensity of his effort.

The thundergod made a gurgling sound, collapsing to his knees.

Idun didn’t seem surprised at all. A wry smile on her face, she bent down as though examining the grimacing warrior. “Oooh, that must really hurt. Didn’t I say antagonizing the savant of reality was a poor choice? After all, you—viciously assaulted his wife.”

Though he knew Idun was goading him, the word ‘assaulted’ still made Bannor crank harder on Thor.

The thundergod’s eyes bulged. He pawed at Idun. “Help … me!” he choked.

“Help?” Idun snorted. She kicked a paving stone. “I can’t be hearing right. My blood is on these rocks. If you aren’t with me…” She glanced at Bannor. “I guess you’ll expire.” She straightened up and put hands on hips. “Doesn’t it really infuriate you when a mountain-sized blackguard like this pounds your wife?”

Bannor body and mind burned. His heart zoomed. Bit by bit Thor’s sources of power were going black.

The son of Odin flailed, bringing Mjolnir back as though to throw it.

“Not an option.” Idun swatted the hammer from the warrior’s hand. It landed with a crash that shook the aerie. She stepped close and knotted her hand in the god’s bearskin cloak, and brought her face nose-to-nose with his. “Odinson, give in and apologize to the lady.” She pointed to Sarai. “This is a delicate time of her life, and you’ve jeopardized that with your dishonorable attack.”

Sarai jerked, her hands clenching on Bannor’s shoulders. Bannor ignored everything except the efforts toward making Thor cave.

The god growled, muscles in his legs and arms rippling with the intensity of his effort, pitting the strength of his immortal gifts against the power of the Garmtur.

“Odinson, if he crushes your flux stone, you’ll be useless to us.”

Bannor saw the glint in Idun’s eye and realized he’d been channeling his energies against the wrong target. The flux stone was the weakness. The tangle of threads all ended there. While Thor’s most resilient magics shielded the stone, Bannor watched a graphic demonstration of what happened to Idun when the gem was knocked out of her body.

Relaxing a tiny fraction of the pressure, Bannor used the leftover to locate Thor’s flux stone. There, near the immortal’s hammering heart. He snaked another thread around the stone and pulled.

The god howled. Without the cascades of immortal magic rushing through his form, the yell was merely loud, not the bone pulverizing roar that Bannor felt earlier.

“There it comes,” Idun said tapping the writhing warrior on the chest. “Any moment now and the stone will break the surface of your skin. He’s applying a great deal of pressure, Thor, when all those defenses collapse I imagine they’ll be mopping you off the cobbles. They’ll be wondering at how the vaunted thundergod got himself killed by a mortal, and ended up shaming the house of Odin forever.”

Thor gurgled a denial, shaking his head violently. Sweat poured down his grimacing face.

Bannor could feel blood running down his hands where his nails had dug into his palms. He had to hold on and show this tyrant that mortals could fight back.

“Nobody will find out you gave in Odinson.” Idun said in a calm voice. “You have my word.”

For emphasis, Bannor heaved on the thread wrapped around the god’s flux stone.

Thor let out an incoherent scream.

Idun shook her head. “Such a waste. Well, nice knowing you.” She rubbed a hand through his unruly red hair and turned her back.

The warrior let out a gasp and an urgent sounding froth of words.

Idun turned. “Really? Do you swear?”

Thor rolled his eyes, his skin almost black from the forces bearing down on him. He let out a bleating sound.

“Let him go.” Idun said to Bannor in a flat tone.

At first, Bannor hung on, determined to finish what he started.

“Stop Bannor,” Sarai said quietly. “I’m satisfied you taught him a lesson.”

He snarled and let the pressure off Thor with a gasp. Thor sagged, drained by his own efforts. Still kneeling, he rocked back to his heels, a shudder going through his massive frame.

Bannor reeled and Sarai steadied him. He felt like a spent campfire coal. It felt as though a hive of stinger-bugs were buzzing in his skull.

“That’s showing them,” Sarai whispered in his ear.

“Still think he was lucky?” Idun asked, walking around Thor. “You ready to help now?”

“You—” Thor coughed. “You are a fool—to clasp such an adder to—to your breast.” The immortal was already beginning to recover.

Sarai stiffened behind Bannor, bristling at the insult aimed at them.

Idun held up a warning hand. “Adders don’t give quarter, Odinson. Snakes don’t have honor. Things granted you this day that you did not offer. Think well on that before naming snakes.”

The big warrior snorted, rising to his feet shakily and dusting off his breeches. He bent and picked up Mjolnir with a grunt, shoving the bulky weapon into his belt. Frowning at Idun he boomed, “let us get on with this insanity.”

The goddess’ expression stayed cool. “You’re forgetting something.”

“What?” he growled.

She raised an eyebrow.

Sarai, still holding Bannor, leaned forward.

Thor looked toward Sarai and scowled. Bannor had just enough energy to glare at him.

The immortal muttered something that even Bannor’s sharp hearing didn’t catch.

“Obviously, Odin did not teach his son the art of apologies.” Idun said with a pointed tone. “Speak up, so we all may here it.”

Thor stiffened, face going taut. From the way the immortal nerved himself, you’d think he was preparing to lift a planet. He cleared his throat. “I said, my apologies to the lady for my attack.”

Sarai nodded. Her expression was hard, but Bannor felt her amazement. Thor was going to cooperate. She looked to Bannor. He shifted to put his arm around her waist, still needing the extra support to stand. His head felt so heavy he could barely hold it up. His throat burned. At a later time, he might feel the satisfaction of making the stiff-necked Asgardian give in. He had half-expected to lose that battle of wills. The only thing a creature like Thor understood was strength.

Sarai kissed him and Bannor felt a surge of warmth go through his body. He felt a tingling go through his limbs as she pushed some of her energy into him. Some of the tiredness went away.

“We need to get these two on their way. This fighting has cost us valuable time.”

The thundergod stared at Bannor and Sarai fingering his red beard. “What pray are these two going to do?”

“They are going to Niflheim.”

Thor raised an eyebrow. “Good luck, Mortal. You will need it.”

Bannor snorted. “Thanks.”

Idun gestured to two of the huge dragons perched high on one of the aerie ledges. The creatures immediately left their positions and spiraled toward them. In moments, blasts of cool air gusted over them as the winged serpents flared to land. The ground shuddered as their tons of mass settled, ridged scales squeaking against one another as the monsters hunched down. Talons as big as Bannor’s arm clicked on the cobbles. The two creatures blinked at Idun with golden eyes the size of battle shields, the irises contracted to narrow slices of black.

The goddess reached up and caressed the snout of the nearer creature. The fins on its head trembled and its tail swished. Neck sagging, it shut its eyes and let out a low ululation. One rear leg drummed on the rock like a dog scratching fleas.

After a moment, the other dragon seemed to grow impatient and butted the other monster with an air shaking thump. It then snaked its head down close to Idun, who then petted it the same way she had done the first.

Thor watched the proceedings with folded arms. Apparently, he did not approve of Idun’s fraternization with the huge reptiles.

Bannor noted how Sarai focused on Idun. She watched the goddess intently, obviously interested in the way she handled the dragons. Bannor was glad Idun took the time to calm the huge beasts. The monsters would be hard enough to deal with. He knew nothing about dragons aside from their size and demeanor.

Idun stepped over to Bannor and Sarai. In her outstretched hands, two large leather sacks appeared. “These contain the papers and the scrip you will need on your journey. Tymoril and Kegari have been told where you need to go and have agreed to defend and bear you.”

“Which is Tymoril?” Sarai asked taking one of the bags.

“She is,” Idun said, pointing. “She says you hit very hard.”

Sarai frowned. Bannor realized it was indeed the same dragon that had tried to bite his beloved. “She should keep her teeth to herself,” Sarai said with a dry tone.

“Tymoril wishes you to ride her,” Idun said.

“What, so she can dump me off? I don’t think so.”

“She respects you. There is honor in binding with a strong rider. Believe me, Tymoril will serve you well.”

His beloved looked dubious. “She better, or I’ll clout her again.”

“She expects no less. I would do the same.” Idun looked at Bannor. “Kegari asks you to pardon her molting. Otherwise, she wishes to be with Tymoril, and is willing to bring you.”

“Long as I don’t have to break my hand on her nose,” Bannor mumbled. He took the other bag from Idun. He realized that he and Sarai hadn’t even left the citadel and they already looked wrecked. He was battered and bruised, Sarai’s armor was ruined.

“Mount up,” Idun directed, pointing to the saddles fixed high between the dragon’s huge furled wings. “Step here on the deltoid-pivot,” the goddess indicated. “Then on the scale cysts, there and there, and swing up.”

Bannor broke away from Sarai, glad she had given him some energy or he wouldn’t have had the strength to make the climb. Kegari arched her sinuous neck, peering at him as stepped up on the treetrunk-sized mass of bunched muscle and scale that was the creature’s main wing pivot. Flanges in the creature’s scales and spiky growths provided enough foot and hand holds to clamber the three paces up to the dragon’s platform-like dorsal. The saddle was a tall, padded leather riser providing support to the mid-point of the back. Straddling the big seat, the knees were pushed forward into padded cradles designed to provide security from falling off as well as comfort for being hours aloft.

Bannor cinched down the straps that held either thigh, and picked up the long reins that looped around the thick part of the dragon’s neck. Whatever control existed would be the dragon’s. There was no bit like that used on a horse.

He watched Sarai scramble up to her perch on Tymoril’s back. The dragon’s reins clutched in her fist, gold armor flashing in the sun, silvery hair flying in the gusts of air, she looked every bit as Queenly as her mother, Queen Kalindinai of Malan.

“We will be in contact,” Idun said to him. “I must guide you past Heimdall.”

Dragons all through the aerie let out roars of challenge. As single powerful male voice cut through their bellowing. “Unnecessary, I am here. Surrender, Idun, for treason—”

Thor pivoted and let fly with Mjolnir. The hammer became a shrieking fireball that flashed across the aerie in the blink of an eye. Bannor only caught a glimpse of a single black-clad figure standing near the center of the aerie. If Heimdall had a chance to raise a defense, there was no indication. The weapon exploded against his chest like a meteor. A searing flash of light dazzled Bannor’s eyes. The boom would have blown Bannor out of the saddle were he not strapped in.

Mjolnir arced back to Thor’s hand.

Heimdall stood unmoved, only a single white scuff on his black breast-plate. “—again-st…” the word dribbled from his lips. “O … din.” The guardian immortal crashed face down onto the paves.

“Go!” Thor ordered them. “Your way is clear. Let us not see you again until your quest is done!”

“Go!” Idun echoed, swinging her arms to the sky.

The dragon tensed under Bannor, its sail-sized wings unfurling with a snap and whipping forward. With a few thrumming strokes and a lunge into the air they were sky bound.

They were on their way to the land of the dead.

My son-in-law? I admit I had my doubts—he is a human after all. I guess I must qualify that, he is a savant, something that seems to make all the difference in the world. Since I have known him, he has shown unfailing devotion to my daughter, and both respect and patience with me. I know I’m demanding, I want only the best for our daughter, and our family. So far, he has yet to disappoint me.

—Kalindinai T’Evagduran

Queen of Malan

Chapter 10
Dragon Flight

« ^ »

Flying.

Who’s fool idea was it to fly? Bannor clutched the reins as Kegari the dragon pressed into her ascent. The huge creature labored under him, powerful muscles pumping, wings thrumming through each down-stroke. Despite their massiveness these animals moved fast. They gained altitude with a speed equal to a horse at full gallop.

As they rose above the trees, the thick ophidian odor of the dragon mixed with the scent of storms and needleleaf. Heart thudding, breath tight in his chest, Bannor threw another loop of the reins around his fists. Rising in the sapphire sky of Gladshiem, he shielded his eyes from the hard glare of the morning light.

He caught a glimpse of Sarai’s gold armor, a tiny figure gesturing from between the sweep of Tymoril’s wings. He knew his beloved’s location more by sound though. The sounds of her gleeful whoops drifted back to him as her dragon, bigger and stronger than his, pulled ahead.

Gritting his teeth, he held on. In his life, he’d flown but once before. That had been the night of Sarai’s abduction by Hecate. He rode the great winged horse Bomarc. Then, his focus on her rescue blocked out all other concerns. Now, the ground was so damn far away…

Piercing a thin veil of clouds, Kegari leveled off over a half league up. Tymoril dipped and swerved ahead, dodging among fleecy clouds tumbling through the sky. Hair flying in the wind, Sarai looked to be enjoying herself.

Good thing one of them was.

Despite the ill feeling in his stomach, watching Tymoril and Sarai dance among the clouds made him smile. He glanced back to Idun’s giant citadel. It looked like a toy castle now, the motes of griffons and dragons still flying patterns around it. Inside, Idun and Thor would be dealing with Heimdall. The thundergod had been right. Bannor’s victory over him had been lucky.

If Thor had ever gotten a throw off with Mjolnir the hammer … Bannor shuddered. One toss was all it took for Thor to level Heimdall, god sentinel of the bifrost bridge. Bannor hoped he and Thor never fought again. Next time, he might not get so lucky. He hoped the thundergod and Idun could recruit Heimdall, or at least placate him somehow.

Bannor turned his thoughts from Heimdall. It was Idun’s responsibility. He must focus on getting himself and Sarai into Niflheim to free their family and friends. He winced, his stomach ached and his throat felt tight. Even though Sarai gave him some of her strength, the battle had stretched his endurance to the limit.

Unlike a god, his flesh did not repair itself instantaneously. Potions and magics made it possible to function, but weeks of being sustained by them took a toll. Each time, the body recovered more slowly. Idun’s healing had been powerful, but he felt himself nearing the threshold when no amount of magical recuperation would help.

The flying, the excitement, and the drained feeling gave him that ‘ready to retch’ sensation. He forced himself to take his mind off it. From their high vantage, he looked south across broken hills and thick forests to a wasteland of fens, broken rock and dying trees. Though he didn’t relish riding a dragon, he’d have been more unhappy trying to blaze a path through that forsaken territory…

The better part of a bell passed. His mount, Kegari, kept a steady course, not deviating, not weaving like her larger counterpart. Idun’s tree shrouded lands gave way to rocky terrain. The wastes still lay some distance ahead, the bogs, fens, and thickets brown blotches in the otherwise green and yellow plains.

Appearing to have tired of their aerial cavorting, Sarai and Tymoril looped back and flew parallel with them. How did Sarai get her dragon to turn? Tymoril and Kegari synchronized their wings so they could fly about forty paces apart. Bannor felt the sharp tip of Tymoril’s wing slicing the air a pace or two away. Even this near, the rushing air, and the thrum of dragon wings made it difficult to understand words.

“Are you all right, my One?” Sarai shouted across to him.

Bannor nodded. “Fine!” he yelled back. Actually, his stomach felt ready to eject its contents at any moment.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Fine,” he repeated in a stiff voice. He didn’t look at her.

“Bannor, you’re green!”

He glanced over. Sarai grinned at him, her silvery hair flicking in the wind like a pennon. Her violet eyes gleamed with mischief.

He didn’t know about being green, but he knew he didn’t want to be reminded of how sick he felt. “So, you’re dragon friendly all of sudden?”

“Bannor, you really are green.” She said, concern now in her voice. “Do we need to stop?”

“Stop? We just started! Besides how would you stop this—” he halted before saying ‘thing’. These huge creatures might understand and be insulted. “Dragon?”

“Ask her, Silly. She’s nice and is aware you’re afraid of flying.”

“Oh? How does she know I’m ‘afraid of flying’?”

Tymoril’s head turned and one great golden eye blinked at him. He must have imagined it, the creature’s lips curled up as though to smile. Tymoril’s body shook then Bannor felt Kegari vibrate beneath him. Accompanying the motion came a booming pulsation that had to be draconian laughter.

Sarai appeared to listen for a moment, then chuckled. “She says your color speaks all.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“Have to listen. I borrowed some knowledge from Idun’s flux stone. Needed to see Idun talk to them to figure out how it was done.”

The queasiness in his stomach tightened. “You are bad.” He yelled to her. “You know that?!”

Her smile flashed bright in the glaring light. “You mean that in a good way, my One. I can tell!”

“Really bad,” he confirmed.

“My One, I’ve learned that life comes down to two things.” She shifted in the saddle, adjusting her back against the riser and jockeying her knees for more comfort. “What you control, and what controls you.”

Kegari shivered under Bannor, and made thrumming noise. One of her great foreclaws sliced left to right as though indicating the horizon.

His beloved cocked her head to one side as if deciphering something. “Kegari says, ‘Or what one falsely assumes they control’.”

“Yes, like a mortal thinking they can manage an immortal’s power,” Bannor said.

“If I became a god, would you stop loving me, my One?”

“Would you still remember your poor mortal One?”

“What’s mine, I don’t let go.” She pushed an arm through her hair. “You will always be my One.”

“So—I’m a possession then?”

“You’re my One,” Sarai repeated.

Tymoril made a harsh noise that sounded suspiciously like snickering, and a clicking sound with her teeth.

“You hush,” Sarai scowled. “Nobody asked you.”

Kegari rumbled something, Bannor could feel the expulsion of air and the tremble of her mammoth body. Both dragons started laughing. Bannor gripped the saddle as Kegari dipped to avoid Tymoril’s scything sharp wing spines. The big creature continued to chuckle over its own joke, the sound like rocks tumbling in a barrel.

For a moment, Bannor thought he’d heard something, not in the sounds the huge reptiles made, but in the spaces between. It was comparable to the mindspeak savants shared, differing only in the means of communication. What he detected more resembled emotions than words. Concentrating, he could fit the ‘impressions’ into concepts. What had it been? Something about a kept man?

“Funny,” he muttered.

Kegari swiveled her head to look back at him, the scaly ridges over her golden eyes bobbed up and down and she grinned with maw full of gleaming sword-sized teeth.

Wonderful. Of all the dragons Idun might have picked, she gave him the one that thought she was a jester.

The dragons synchronized their movements again, bringing Sarai within earshot again.

“So,” he called. “Do you think we need to recruit help?”

Sarai leaned back in her saddle and stretched. She appeared completely unconcerned about falling. “We definitely need guides who’ve been into Niflheim.”

“My concern is our friends here. We can’t get near anybody riding them!”

Tymoril clicked her teeth, and made a pulsing sound far deep in her throat. Kegari’s head bobbed and she made a similar noise.

“They say it won’t be a problem,” Sarai translated.

“Can you teach me this dragon language?” Bannor asked. “I think I understood part of Kegari’s ‘kept man’ remark.”

Even at forty paces Bannor saw Sarai flush, though why that remark would make her color he didn’t know. In the past, she hadn’t turned a hair at far more outrageous statements. He guessed he missed much more than he thought.

“I can teach you,” Sarai said, abruptly serious. “My flux stone helps me. Your ability with patterns should work in its stead.”

He frowned. She was getting accustomed to immortal power, growing more attached to it. When she returned to normal it’d crush her. What could he do? She ignored his warnings. Once she set her mind, no persuasion in existence could change it. He’d have to stand by knowing she’d eventually be cut off from the magic she loved…

“Good,” he replied, not feeling good at all. He saw nothing but turbulence in their future. They headed into war, the first leg of the journey a trip into the abyssal land of the dead. Insanity. Even if they survived, they must piece together their lives again; adjust to the changes.

By now, Sarai’s father, King T’Evagduran, would be going crazy with his wife and two daughters missing. He might even think them dead with the destruction of Hecate and the rift. If they rescued Sarai’s family, survived the god-war, and managed to return home, he and Sarai would still have the task of returning to face the King. Their last encounter had been anything but friendly.

Would he ever live a normal life? Of course, being the husband of a gray Elf princess wasn’t normal. Compared to his recent experiences though, the murderous intrigue of the royal court would seem a mild diversion.

The flight continued in silence, or relatively so. He grew increasingly aware of the dragon’s talking to each other. While he couldn’t understand what was spoken, he caught fragments of an idea or the gist of a concept. Much of what they conversed about concerned the weather, pressures and temperatures in the air. There also seemed to be discussion about males, he assumed dragon males, and clutching (babies?). There seemed a lot of that. Sarai didn’t appear to be hearing, her eyes were closed and her lips moved.

She was humming.

They’d been aloft what Bannor guessed to be a little over three bells when Tymoril made a grunting sound and peeled off. Kegari winged over and fell in line behind the bigger dragon. The two creatures held their massive wings absolutely still, their thick bodies flattening as they nosed over in descent.

Cool moisture struck Bannor’s face as they punched down through a layer of clouds. Ahead to the South, Bannor saw what appeared to be river valley, and a sprinkling of log and stone dwellings. Furrowed squares of land, and grazing animals marked the outlying farms. Toward the further end he saw a concentration of buildings that would be the main community.

Tymoril dove, staying only hairs above the trees, legs drawn tight to her body, her yards-long tail flattened until it looked like a ribbon. They dropped so fast Bannor’s eyes filled with wind tears. Kegari stayed in precise formation behind the other dragon as they whipped into the confines of the trees. He clamped down on the reins as they snaked along the mountainside, weaving through glades and plunging down cuts in the mountain topology.

The boles of the trees whizzed by in a blur as they dodged around the terrain, wings and bodies missing obstacles by finger-widths.

With all the quick motion, Bannor almost missed something else. Tymoril’s glittering scales had changed from iridescent to flat greens and browns that mirrored the forest around them. Kegari’s coloring had altered as well.

Right as the trees opened out into the main valley, Tymoril’s tail whipped around, her wings flicked forward, and all in one abrupt swing of her body she flared into a landing. The trees bent beneath the gust as the huge creature settled.

Kegari followed suit, somehow dissipating her tremendous inertia and pivoting to land.

Teeth gritted and eyes fixed on his fists, it took Bannor a few moments to realize they’d arrived safely. His heart pounded and he found himself gasping for air.

“That was fun,” Sarai said in a cheerful voice from below him.

Bannor let out a breath, then took another gulp of air. “That—was not—fun.”

One of the dragons snickered.

Kegari murmured something. Bannor picked out the concept ‘green’. Tymoril answered back, and both creatures sniggered.

Hands trembling, he unfastened the leg straps and swung over. His thighs and calves felt leaden. He slipped part way down to Kegari’s wing pivot and Sarai ducked in to catch hold of him. She assisted him to the ground. He balanced precariously on uncertain legs wondering if he could ever go up in the air again.

Kegari and Tymoril smiled at him with sabre-filled grins. Sarai put her arm around him. “You’re really feeling badly aren’t you?” She gave him a kiss that sent warmth through his bones, it made some of the ache and illness go away.

Bannor drew a breath. “I’ve felt—better.” He put his arms around her, putting his face into the curve of her neck. He drank in the warmth and fruity smell of her. The best healing for him was being in her arms.

He was unaware of how long he embraced Sarai, but became conscious being stared at. He opened his eyes, to see the two dragons peering at them, heads cocked, wide grins on their reptilian faces.

Sarai noticed his expression and looked over her shoulder. She looked back to him and shrugged.

Bannor looked past the dragons through the trees and to the long trek down the valley to the town. He carefully disengaged from Sarai and limped between the two giant reptiles to the edge of the clearing. He ignored the kissing sounds they made as he passed. Dragons. Looking along the river across the low hills to the community, he saw that even on a good day it would be a solid bell’s walk. Feeling weak like now, it would be closer to two.

Sarai came and stopped by him. “What’s the matter?”

“Long walk,” he muttered. “Leaving Tymoril and Kegari will be a problem if we need to leave in hurry.”

She nodded, eyes narrowing. “Good point. Odin may have people there. You’re right though, these two would panic the whole valley.”

A hissing feminine voice spoke behind them. “We s-shall not be s-staying be-hhind.”

The proximity and alieness of the voice brought Bannor around immediately. His felt his jaw drop open.

The two gigantic dragons were gone. In their place stood two, naked, extremely green, women.

The one standing where Kegari had crouched only instants ago blinked at him with slit gold eyes. “What is-s the matter, man-ling?” She smiled, revealing pronounced fangs. “Have you not s-seen an unclothed body before?”

Of all the people I have ever met, Bannor is the only one who ever matched me step-for-step when it came to finding ways to get in trouble. Recently, I’ve considered ceding my trouble-crown to him. He has a knack for getting in snarls that just makes me ache all over.

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 11
Tymoril and Kegari

« ^ »

Bannor goggled. He couldn’t see himself, but he felt he must be doing it. It was rude … he knew that too, but simply couldn’t stop. The two giant dragons had transformed into human shape. He didn’t know why that amazed him, but it did. Idun and Thor masqueraded as humans too … was that any different?

If the appearance of the two dragons surprised Sarai, it didn’t last long. Her face lit up and she brushed her silvery hair back. “So then you’ll be accompanying us? Don’t you think you’ll attract as much attention that way, as being the size of a village?”

As his initial astonishment wore off, Bannor saw that the dragons weren’t really naked, not in the sense of propriety. They only a bore a superficial resemblance to an unclothed female. Darker shades of jade and emerald outlined scales in their green skin. Their chest and belly glistened like the smooth underside of a snake. An array of ebony fins that from a distance looked like hair, ran from their scalp to the small of their back. The contours of their bodies simulated a human woman, but there were no breasts, simply a bulge of muscle that provided the same contour.

“Clothing hides-s much,” Tymoril said, her golden eyes on Sarai. “You can s-still use Idun’s-s gift, can you not?”

Sarai nodded. “Yes, I can create clothing for you.”

“S-something with a hood.” Kegari grinned, displaying white fangs. “S-something in blue.” She tilted her head. “Goes-s with my eyes-s.” She wiggled her brow ridge and the fins down her back shimmered.

Sarai pointed toward them. The light in her violet eyes brightened and sparks spiraled down her arm and across the clearing. The light danced around each dragon’s head, spreading down their bodies like a sheen of water. The glow took on opacity and form as it descended, leaving the Draconians dressed in chainmail hauberks, black leather leggings and boots, gray tabards, and silver-chased hooded cloaks of the deep azure blue. Bannor noted that Sarai had outfitted them with sheathed swords and daggers in thigh sheaths. He doubted that either of the dragons would make use of them. Formidable talons glinted at the end of their thick fingers.

Bannor nudged Sarai and pointed out the detail. She nodded and supple looking gloves appeared around the dragon’s hands.

Kegari shrugged her shoulders, flexing her fingers in the gloves. She pulled the hood around her scaly face and sniffed the fabric. “Good. Comfortable.”

Tymoril touched the sword on her hip and thumbed the dagger in its sheath. She frowned, pulled up her hood, and tucked the mane of hair-like fins beneath it and the cloak.

“It occurred to me,” Bannor said. “The saddle bags. Where—”

He stopped when Kegari abruptly held the large double bags out. “We are fine. S-shouldn’t you be trying to be less-s cons-s-picuous?” She indicated Sarai.

His mate looked down. Her gold armor was still melted in a large circle from where Thor hit her with lightning. The skin underneath had apparently returned to its normal color long since, but it did provide a rather revealing look at the skin and breasts underneath.

Sarai raised an eyebrow. She drew her hand along the damaged armor. As her fingers passed over the area, the broken links and torn cloth reformed. By the time her hand had passed completely across the gap, the hauberk looked as though it had never been damaged. She passed her hand across his chest. The hair on his arms and neck stiffened. The clothing made bloody and dirty by the fight with Thor abruptly became clean.

“I wish I could make you feel better as easily, my One,” she said, putting an arm around his waist.

He kissed her on the neck. “Just being with you makes me better.”

Sarai sighed. She leaned over and gave him a deep passionate kiss that made him catch his breath. “I don’t know how you think I could ever give you up. Not when you’re always saying the right thing.”

“Let us hope his-s words-s are as-s s-sweet to your pros-spects-s,” Tymoril said. “Niflheim is-s not known to us-s. We need those who know its-s ways-s.”

“We?” Bannor asked. “I thought Idun said you couldn’t go any closer than a hundred leagues.”

Tymoril folded her arms. “S-she s-said we could fly you no closer.” She wrinkled her nose. “Nothing was s-said of not completing our mission.”

Sarai glanced over at Bannor and smiled. “Well then, let’s be on our way. It’s a long walk.”

Sarai put an arm around his waist and helped him along. He moved at his best energy-saving pace. The dragon ladies fell in step beside them. Even clothed the two would attract attention. They were huge! Either was half again as tall as him and perhaps twice as wide. Even giant Irodee would be forced to look up at them. Some part of him sensed that despite their alienness, the dragons could be trusted. He guessed that Sarai had a similar sense or she wouldn’t have been so openly accepting. That led him to a question.

“Tymoril?” he asked.

The green female looked over, her brow ridge crooking up.

“Why did you try to bite Sarai?”

The creature’s slit golden eyes narrowed. She ran a blue tongue across her fangs. “My territory. She gave not proper res-spect.”

“For that you’d eat her?”

Tymoril blinked. “If s-she was s-slow, weak, not worthy to s-serve the goddess anyway.”

Bannor looked over at Sarai. His betrothed shrugged, she seemed satisfied with the explanation. “She was testing me.”

“You didn’t try to bite me.”

Tymoril wrinkled her nose. “Males do not matter.”

He frowned.

“Well,” Sarai’s tone turned sharp. “He matters to me.” Her fist thudded against Tymoril’s arm, knocking the giant female a half step sideways. It sounded like chunks of wood whapping together. “Understand?”

The dragon woman looked down at Sarai and rubbed where she’d been punched. “Kveckhes-sh,” she hissed.

Sarai looked across to Kegari and raised an eyebrow.

The other dragon lady ran a blue tongue across her teeth. “Kveckhes-sh,” she responded after a moment.

“Good. You see, we don’t eat our mates after we’re joined.”

Kegari made a thrumming in her throat. “Eating them is-s more practical. Then they cannot dis-srupt the nest.”

Sarai’s eyes gleamed and she gave Bannor a peck on the cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I have to tidy up after him.”

Bannor gave her a little poke in the ribs. Sarai chuckled and squirmed next to him.

Even though the terrain was easy to manage, and the trail relatively smooth, Bannor grew weary in a short time. The last time he felt drained like this in the caves after being poisoned by Hecate’s demon. Everything that had happened to him over the past few tendays had caught up with him, and the short respite simply hadn’t provided enough recuperation time.

Without being asked, Kegari put out an arm to help Bannor along. The draconian was as stable as a bridge timber, and he saw what he took for concern in her golden eyes when he stumbled due to fatigue.

The travel went slow and heat never varied. It soon had him sweating. The valley itself was green and fertile, the smells of grass and tilled soil comforting in their familiarity. Their track took them along a shallow river that they dipped hands-full of water from to quench their thirst. As they approached the outlying farms, the lowing of cattle grew audible. The distant clang of smith’s hammer rang from further ahead.

His weakness made the task Idun set for them seem insurmountable. With or without assistance, they must infiltrate Niflheim and rescue their companions from imprisonment. Wren risked death and more to rescue him. Irodee never spoke ill of him, nor did she ever hesitate to protect himself or Sarai. Laramis had been stalwart ally and a friend in every sense of the word. Kalindinai was his mother to be, and Janai his sister in-law. Even Euriel and her husband Vanidaar, backed them up in their hour of need. In fact, Vanidaar took him to Sarai when the others sought to stop him. He and Wren’s father never exchanged a word, yet the mage had risked everything to give Bannor the chance to free Sarai from Hecate.

These people weren’t perfect, they hid the truth and in some cases their motives were far from pure. Still, they stood with him against the power of a goddess. He felt close to all of them, even Euriel, who on their last encounter he dumped in a water barrel. After the destruction of Hecate, he had thought Sarai forever dead, but Euriel used her magic to preserve Sarai’s life. He owed her most of all.

The real irony was Odin’s vengeance was against Euriel. The others simply happened to get caught in the conflict. These people had acted like family. Real families stuck together regardless of odds. He accepted Sarai’s family as his own when he accepted her. While he lived, he couldn’t give up until they were free. Sarai would fight Odin himself to get them back. No matter what, he would support and protect her.

He simply didn’t see how. He felt so weary, and the journey had only begun. Before going into Niflheim, the tasks that Idun coerced Sarai into completing must be done as well. Even if they reached Wren and the others, would they have enough strength to fight their way out?

He looked to Sarai. She gave him hope. The spark in her eye, the shine of her silvery hair, the glow of her skin, the animation in her every step and movement. She had never been more vital than right now. If they won through, matters would hinge on her, and whatever trick she was humming up. He hoped that whatever plot she concocted didn’t cost them their relationship.

Sarai seemed to sense his gloom. She leaned over and kissed him. “I love you,” she murmured. “You know that don’t you?”

He drew a breath, feeling the air tremble in his chest. He let it out slow and nodded. Of that, he had no doubt. What he didn’t know was whether she loved the magic more. “Yes, I’m certain,” he replied. “I am your One.” He paused. Even though he tried to keep his voice level, it cracked. “I hope you know that you’re my everything, and I never want to lose you.”

She dipped her head against his shoulder, put her hand on his and gave it a squeeze. “Please, my One, have faith, I want us to stay together forever. There is so much for us to do.”

Kegari made low growling sound in her throat. She pointed to the town that grew closer with each step. “S-suggest, you concern yourself with right now. We need knowledge of this place.” The Draconian indicated a steading and where some people were working out beside the building. Tall, broad people, dressed in dark clothing, their long hair knotted and tied.

As they approached Bannor realized the two dragons wouldn’t be as out of place as he thought. The people were huge! He’d grown used to being fairly tall as men went. Not here. He saw one of the people was a girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen summers. There might be a fingerlength difference between his height and hers, but no more. The one that must be her father had to be at least an entire head taller than himself. The mother was only a hair shorter than the father.

Dressed in leather and skins, the three were hoeing a garden, dipping now and then to pull a weed or examine a plant. Size aside, they didn’t appear threatening. Still, the Draconian was right. They needed to stay alert.

The father looked up from his work. Fingering his dark black beard, he leaned on his hoe and boomed out something Bannor took to be a greeting. The language was totally unrecognizable. Language. How would they recruit any help if they couldn’t speak to them?

Sarai looked over at the Draconians. The two females only shrugged in response. He noticed that the two had put Bannor and Sarai between them and easy view from the farmer’s family.

Bannor pointed to his ears, shrugged, then held out his hands to indicate a lack of understanding.

The farmer’s brow beetled. He asked a question, this time in what sounded like another language. Unfortunately, the second try was as unrecognizable as the first.

“Just our luck,” Bannor murmured. “Think everyone in the village will speak the same tongue?”

Sarai nodded. “Chances are high.”

The farmer murmured something to his wife who had looked up. He tugged on one of his ears and pointed to Sarai.

The woman smiled, her broad features lighting up. She spoke in a sing-songy verse. This time Bannor caught words he understood; she had spoken in Elvish!

His mate frowned and replied somewhat hesitantly. His Elvish was still weak, he picked up something about not knowing much of the ‘old tongue’. Old—? To an elf?

Sarai said something about passing through the area and wanting a place get a night’s repast and possibly a place to sleep.

The woman seemed thrown by the way Sarai spoke and it took a few tries to get understanding. Sarai came away with the name of the town, a journey-man’s hostel, and the names of those who might offer rooms for a night.

Sarai thanked the woman, and through her the man, before leading them down the road.

“What language was she speaking?” he asked. “I only caught perhaps every third or forth word.”

“Gray Elven,” she replied, brow furrowed. “A very old dialect. She referred to me as a Freyr-kin.”

“Your kind are considered the s-sons and daughters-s of Frey and Freya,” Kegari said. “The forest and water spirits.”

“She’s a faerie,” Tymoril said, grinning.

“I wasn’t a devout student of Odin’s stories, but weren’t the faeries mistrusted?”

“The Aesir and Vanir trust only their own kind. Frey and Freya are tolerated,” Kegari answered. “People are wary of Freyr-kin, but there are many half-bloods in the realms.”

Bannor sighed.

Sarai patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry my One. We have a lot of magic and ingenuity between us, we’ll think of something.”

“Hope you figure it out soon,” Tymoril said. “Was a long flight and I’m looking forward to s-some dwarven ale.”

“Don’t you get to drink dwarven ale as a dragon?” Bannor asked with wry tone.

The Draconian smiled, her green face gleaming in the bright sun. “No, but I ate a dwarf once.” She made sour expression. “Tas-sted terrible.”

Zounds, Bannor Starfist you say? A good man, a stout fellow with a strong arm and a heart that never quits. A stalwart companion that any could trust their back to. When first I met him, there seemed nothing to distinguish him from any other borderlands bounder with mud on his boots and weeds in his hair. Our many travails have learned me different. I am pleased to call him friend.

—Sir Laramis De’Falcone

Justicar of Ukko

Chapter 12
Miscreant Mercenaries

« ^ »

After parting with the farmers, it wasn’t far into town. In Bannor’s weakened condition though, the going went slow. For their part, the Draconians were patient. Kegari occasionally put out a hand to assist. He hated being weak in front of Sarai, and especially in full view of these strange creatures. People’s lives relied on their capacity to overcome the obstacles that lay between them and Niflheim. He must not only be competent, but strong and able. Competent he might be, but strong and able were two things that felt far out of his reach.

“I don’t understand it,” Sarai was saying. “Thor knocked you around, but you weren’t hurt enough to be crippled like this. Idun’s healing was powerful. You’ve used the Garmtur before, perhaps even more forcefully than you did against Thor, and it didn’t incapacitate you for this long.”

He looked up the road to the buildings and the large people he saw moving about on their daily business. The smells of cattle, tanning, and smoke grew stronger, along with the sounds of hawking, the play of children, and the hammering of buildings under construction.

Bannor sighed. Simply drawing a breath hurt. He looked over at his Elven fiancé, losing himself in the glow of her violet eyes. “Star, when I fought Hecate, I broke something inside. It’s still trying to heal, and isn’t affected by healing potions or your hugs. I also don’t think I ever fully recovered from the demon’s poison. I’ve been patched together with magic so many times over the last couple tendays, I think my insides have just yelled ‘enough!’ ”

Sarai ran a hand through her silvery hair, her lower lip pushing out in thought. Her arm around his waist tightened protectively. “My One, I don’t know if we can afford to wait for you to get better.”

He gritted his teeth. A cold chill twisted in his guts. “I know.”

“Do you think you could heal yourself with the Garmtur?”

He looked down. “My guess would be, ‘no’.”

“Why?”

“Instinct mostly,” he answered. “Think of this—a poisonous snake is usually immune to its own venom. In the same way, I need to be resistant to the threads of reality in order to control them.”

Sarai frowned. She glanced up and they adjusted their course as they intersected the main trail leading through town. Ahead of them, a drover assisted by several children was urging fleecy cloth-stock along the fenced path toward what must be the settlement’s trading square.

Her gaze turned back to him. “But you’ve hurt yourself with the Garmtur before. It didn’t seem like you were immune.”

He nodded. “Yes, but what hurt me wasn’t the Garmtur. I was injured by grabbing onto more power than I could harness.” With his finger, he tapped the place between Sarai’s breasts where she’d placed the flux stone in the bone of her chest. “I didn’t know then that even gods use a focus to manipulate their huge stores of magic. The Garmtur didn’t hurt me, my ignorance did.”

Tymoril pulled the dark blue hood closer around her face and leaned closer. Her gold eyes glinted in the afternoon light. “He is a rare male,” she said, fangs showing in a smile. “He’s willing to admit errors and limitations.”

Sarai pulled him tighter against her. She looked at the Draconian woman, one eyebrow raised. “You think I would have some commoner as my One?” She glanced over at Kegari.

The two dragons looked puzzled. “I s-suppose not,” Tymoril finally admitted, her scaly green features pinched in concentration. It was obvious that a male with redeeming characteristics was alien to the dragon way of thinking.

Kegari’s gaze shifted to the crowded area ahead of them. They’d all been adjusting their course to avoid notice. Of course, in a town this small, newcomers would attract attention. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of villagers whispering between each other. Occasionally, fingers were pointed. Mostly, people followed them with their eyes.

If it weren’t for the sky and people, he could almost see this town somewhere in the North of Sharikaar. Most of the houses were sturdy log constructions reinforced with clay. A few buildings were made of cut stone, and one taller structure of pale brick lay at the heart of the community. As they passed a few groups of townsfolk, Bannor stopped worrying that the dragons would stand out because of their size. Now, his concern was how he and Sarai were the oddities. They weren’t big enough! The males and females close to their height were twice as broad. These sturdy people were suited for harsh conditions and heavy toil. That and fighting… It would take generations of some harsh culling to get a population like this.

Tymoril, her eyes on the knot of people between the buildings ahead of them, spoke in a quiet voice. “I have considered his problem. There may be a way to restore him. The means can be found only in the lands south of us.”

Sarai smiled at him. “That means no picking any fights, Sweetling.”

He smiled back and gave her kiss on the neck. He closed his eyes and savored the sweet taste and scent of her. It was almost enough to make him forget the epic task facing them. “I think I’ll manage to hold myself back. Idun said we’d find her people here. Any idea how?”

She pushed her hand through his hair. “I trust they’ll find us.” She pointed to a larger cut-stone building where a couple farming types were entering. “That looks like the inn.”

Bannor nodded. “It has the look.” He raised his head and sniffed, catching a whiff of spoiled beer-stock and unwashed bodies. “The smell too.” He looked over at Tymoril. “You ready for your ale?”

The green female smiled, the scales of her cheeks shifting to a paler color. “Ready. Flying made me thirsty.”

“I guess our story will be that you two are our guards,” Sarai said.

“Makes s-sense,” Kegari said grinning. “You being s-so puny.”

“Easy on the ‘puny’.” Sarai grinned. “I have a fragile ego.”

Tymoril looked over as they approached the porch of the establishment. “We still cannot speak though.”

“Innkeeper’s problem,” Bannor said. “Haven’t seen one yet who let a little thing like language get between them and some coins of the realm. We sit down and act civil, we’ll get something.”

They slowed to enter the doorway. Two towering men dressed in drab browns and greens stopped talking to look at them, dark eyes curious, nondescript faces neither hostile nor friendly.

Bannor nodded and smiled.

The men went back to their conversation.

Inside, the plank floor was dusted with clay chips and straw. Lanterns dangled from a web of ropes spiked in the smoke-stained rafters. Twenty or thirty laughing and talking patrons lounged at tables around a sizeable hearth where a large roast cooked on a spit. A counter ran the length of the room near the doorway. It was similar to the bar-counter he’d seen in cities except none of the patrons stood at it. A couple of women worked behind the bar, dipping mugs-full of a dark brew from a barrel, and throwing slabs of bread, meat, and cheese onto wood trays. An apron-clad man grabbed the platters and took them into the crowd.

The smell of pipe smoke, oil, and sweat was potent, but nowhere near the worst that Bannor had experienced in his many summers as a ranger for the Duke. The majority of the people visible were agrarian types, but he recognized a few craftsman and traveling peddlers. In the back of the room a knot of men sat off to themselves. The space around that group, and the way they’d situated their backs to the wall marked them as warrior types.

“Let’s keep our distance from those toughs,” Bannor said to Sarai.

“I see them,” she answered, violet eyes narrowed. “There’s a spot over to the left.” She pointed. “Close enough we might be able to talk to those tinkers.”

The Draconians moved ahead of them toward the spot indicated. People openly eyed them as they wove their way through the confusion of chairs, tables, and bodies.

Bannor settled heavily into the over-sized seat glad to be off his feet. He ached, and looked forward to getting some food and drink. It had been some time since the meal of the night before, and the intervening time had sucked away every spare iota of energy. The table top was knife-scarred and splinter ridden and he placed his arms carefully on its surface.

Kegari and Tymoril were furtively peering around, obviously curious about the surroundings and people. Tymoril peeled a long splinter from the wood, leaned back, and used it to pick her fangs.

As he looked around, Bannor saw she was mimicking a man at another table.

“Well, she’ll fit in,” Bannor said to Sarai.

“Oh yes,” Sarai smirked. “Blends perfectly, green skin and all.”

“Nobody seems to care.”

“If I saw someone that big, sporting green scales and fangs, I would be hesitant to point it out unless, of course, I wanted a fight.”

“Very true. They probably see a lot of strange things in these lands though. They do share space with gods.”

“In North, there is a Draconian s-settlement,” Kegari said. “We are known.”

“Can all dragons change shape, or are you two special?” Bannor asked.

“S-shape shifting is a learned or given thing,” Tymoril said. “Many of the s-skalds have the art, as do the s-spirit kin.” She nodded toward Sarai. “Their kind are mas-sters of s-shape deception.”

The innkeeper threaded through the crowd toward them and stopped behind the two dragons. He was a big and burly, his pate devoid of hair except for the thick black tufts on the sides of his head. His broad face was seamed and craggy, his blue eyes looking out from under a cliff of a brow.

He greeted them in that harsh unfamiliar language. Bannor held up a hand, pantomiming that they didn’t understand. The man frowned in response and rummaged through the pockets of his apron. He finally came up with a crystal phial of some kind, and placed it on the table. He said a word, and the crystal began to glow.

“I said, what’ll it be?” the Innkeeper’s voice growled from the container.

Surprised, Bannor looked at the glowing object. Something pink moved in the liquid as the crystal spoke. The two Draconians leaned forward to examine it.

“Ain’t you folks ever seen Elf tongue?” the keeper’s voice asked.

“Not when it wasn’t in her mouth,” Bannor replied, glancing at Sarai, who now had a frown creasing her brow.

“Eh?” the keeper glanced at Sarai. When he realized what Bannor meant, he colored. “Beggin yer pardon, wasn’t no doin of mine ya understand. Somethin I was sold. Comes in handy.”

“Yes,” Sarai murmured. “Handy. If you would, get some Dwarven ale for the ladies.” She gestured to Kegari and Tymoril. “Wine for my husband and myself. Plates of food to go around.”

The keeper nodded. His whole bearing had slumped. Bannor could see the nervousness in the way he held himself. In this land, Elves were obviously either revered or dangerous. The man snatched the elf tongue off the table, stuffed it into the pockets of his apron, and hurried off.

“Elf tongue,” Tymoril murmured, she looked sideways at Sarai.

Kegari opened her mouth to say something and Sarai pointed a finger at her. The Draconian grinned and decided not to say whatever had come to her mind.

“Your tongue,” he said, kissing Sarai’s cheek. “Is fine where it is.”

“Barbarians,” Sarai grumbled.

“As I s-said,” Tymoril nodded. “Freyr-kin s-strong in changing magic.”

“Well, now we can solve the language problem,” he murmured.

“If you are under the impression I will allow the use of such an abomination in my presence,” she fumed. “Think again; elf tongue—hmph!”

“We still need a way to talk to these people.”

“Well, that’s one way we won’t use.” Her face was set. She meant it.

“It appears, you have attracted s-some attention,” Kegari said, peering from beneath her hood. The Draconian’s golden slit eyes flashed in the lantern light as she looked across the room toward the bar.

The keeper was speaking to the two women who assisted him, pointing back toward their table. A few patrons had come up to listen to whatever he was saying. The noise level in the room would have made it impossible hear, even if the language weren’t a problem.

Bannor sighed. “Well, this is going well.”

Chin on fist, violet eyes intent, Sarai watched the ongoing discussion. “That doesn’t mean there’s going to be trouble.”

He watched the people, their gesturing, and the way their voices were rising. “Star, when we’ve been involved, when did it ever not mean trouble?”

She looked at him sidelong. “History doesn’t have to set every precedent.”

“He besst bring my ale,” Tymoril growled. “Thirssty.”

Kegari waved. Since the innkeeper and his audience were all looking the direction of their table, it forced them to acknowledge her. The man went behind the counter and began putting together Sarai’s request. He labored for a few moments, then disappeared out a side door. He returned shortly, picked up a tray and started across the room, a false smile on his face.

When he arrived at their table, he was breathing hard, obviously winded in his efforts to gather the items quickly. Shoving a tray of bread and cheese into the middle of the table, he clunked two huge tankards down in front of Kegari and Tymoril. He then set some pewter cups down between Bannor and Sarai, along with a tall thin earthenware jar stoppered with a wooden cap and sealed with wax.

Nodding to them nervously, he slunk back toward the bar.

Bannor watched him go, eying the container the innkeeper left behind. “I wonder if your request for wine was understood.”

Kegari was sniffing the tankard that had been brought to her. Her nostrils flared, she growled and drew her face back from the brew.

Tymoril licked her lips sniffing over the strong stuff that Bannor could taste even across the table. Back home, Dwarven ale was notorious for its potency. It appeared that the dwarves of Gladshiem had the same perchance for strong drink.

The Draconian tossed back a gulp of the potent smelling stuff and thumped the stein on the table. Bannor and Sarai watched her. So did Kegari.

The green female didn’t move, a smile frozen on her reptilian face. A trickle of brown ran down from the corner of her mouth. She appeared paralyzed until a tear squeezed out of her eye and ran down her cheek. She shuddered and let out hiss. “Oooh.” She grinned. “Goood.” She nodded to Kegari. “Goood.”

Kegari looked dubious.

“Is that really Dwarven ale?” Sarai asked. “It smells like the stuff they use to clean the tar off ship hulls.”

“Same difference,” Bannor murmured. He reached out and grabbed a couple hunks of cheese and some pieces of bread. After determining them safe for consumption, he took a few bites. The food was bland but acceptable. He kept an eye toward the innkeeper and the exchange going on at the counter. So far, it didn’t look as though it would turn out to be trouble as he first anticipated. He’d be happy to be wrong for a change.

Sarai removed the wax seal and un-stopped the jar. She passed her nose over the opening and frowned.

“Bad?” he asked.

“No,” she responded. “Unfamiliar. It isn’t made with any kind of fruit I recognize.” She poured some into one of the cups and swirled the thick amber colored liquid around. She held it up for him to whiff.

It didn’t smell like any wine that Bannor knew; a sweet cloying scent that reminded him of the fat maroon-colored sticker berries that grew in the mountains. The syrupy consistency more closely resembled mead or some of the pulp ciders he’d sampled in the south. It smelled safe. He took the cup from her and sipped a tiny bit.

He flinched, recoiling at the sweetness. “Woo,” he said. “This is your kind of stuff.”

She arched an eyebrow. “My kind?” She took a sip. She smacked her lips and rocked her head side-to-side. “Yes, like nectar wine.”

“Makes my teeth ache.” He kept an eye on the innkeeper and his audience. Maybe nothing would come of it; merely some excitement concerning the perturbed Freyr-kin, and the encounter with the tongue in a bottle.

Concentrating on the innkeeper, he didn’t notice trouble approaching until Sarai gripped his arm. The problem was big—twice Bannor’s size—and ugly; he’d seen lily-hoppers with prettier faces. He wore the scars of a half dozen campaigns, three days of trail dirt, and exuded the odor of a body two-weeks overdue for a bath. The arms, what was visible under the dirt, looked to have been built up lifting horses for a living. On Bannor’s best day, this fellow was one he would have gone a league out of his way just to avoid.

The man-mountain stepped up between Kegari and Tymoril, his ruddy face looked like a cross between a simian and a broad-paw. His voice was a rusty rumble like iron plates being bent. “Hey you, Runt.” He spoke common! “I couldn’t help but notice how ya got three girls all to yourself. How is it you measure that?”

Bannor sighed. Big as a hill. Smart as a stone. He spoke the common language from home though. That didn’t make sense. “Friend. You want my girls here? You can have those two right now.” He gestured to Kegari and Tymoril. “I warn you though, they’re quite a handful.”

My sister Sarai tries so hard not to be like our father. The more she tries to be herself the more she ends up emulating him, his competitiveness, his drive, and his way of taking himself so seriously. I love our father and I love my sister, and I do so enjoy tormenting her—she makes it so easy.

—Arminwen Janai T’Evagduran

Second Princess of Malan

Chapter 13
Draconian Humor

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Occasionally, a rare moment of rightness comes along when things in an insane universe seem to balance out. Bannor hadn’t experienced many of those precious bits of living, but he enjoyed the few he’d happened upon. The situation unfolding was shaping up to be a situation where someone ended up getting exactly what they deserved. Feeling weak and ill, having been hounded for more than two moons, it suited Bannor’s temperament. Some overconfident bully was going to get a well-earned pounding for swaggering in where he wasn’t welcome.

The dirty stink-ridden mountain of a trouble-maker didn’t realize the peril he’d placed himself in standing between Tymoril and Kegari. The Draconian ladies didn’t think much of humans, and less of males in general.

You can have those two right now. Bannor exaggerated on the ‘having’ part, but the fellow was sure to get more than he bargained for. They’re quite a handful. With either creature being larger than a barn in their natural shape, Bannor found the statement suitably and ironically accurate.

He glanced around the inn. No one was paying much heed except the keeper and his assistants. The fact that the big warrior was picking a fight didn’t seem to concern any of the other patrons. The laughter and talking hadn’t noticeably diminished. An occasional glance was cast their direction. Whispers were exchanged at neighboring tables. The only other interested parties were the warriors at the back of the room; the fighting unit that the bully came from. They poked one another and pointed, obviously enjoying the sight of one of their brethren rousting someone.

No matter how big this brute was, Bannor refused to back down if it came to it. If he couldn’t handle one very mortal man, how would he ever deal with Odin? He looked up at the ursine hulk that had called him a ‘runt’. He’d see how badly the man wanted trouble.

“So, Friend, that all you wanted? My ladies? Or did you have something else in mind?”

The hulk’s lily-hopper face pinched, his brow furrowing in confusion. He obviously hadn’t expected Bannor to acquiesce so easily. “Uh.”

“Ladies,” Bannor said to the two Draconians. “Mister—hey Friend, what did you say your name was?”

The man frowned. “Errr. It’s Maac.”

Bannor raised an eyebrow. “Ladies, it appears Big Maac wants to show you a good time. How about it?”

Tymoril gazed up at the hulk. “Depends whether he tastes better cooked or raw.” She grinned with inch long fangs.

“Is of no consequence to me,” Kegari hissed, also bearing her teeth. “Manling flesh tasstes good either way.”

Maac’s eyes doubled in size. “Gads! Snake people!”

Bannor looked to Sarai. She was staring at the huge man as though she might dissect him with her eyes. She wore a cold smile that reminded him of how a cat looked before it bit the head off a rodent.

“No snakes around here,” he said to her. “You see any?”

“No snakes,” she agreed, smile growing larger. “Dragons, yes, snakes, no. You know, I bet dragons get really offended when they’re called snakes.”

Kegari and Tymoril undulated to their feet like serpents charmed out of a magician’s basket. Both stood half a head taller than the warrior. They were slender compared to his massiveness, but Bannor had no doubts that either could rip the fellow in half with little effort.

“Hey, Maac, some advise—say you’re sorry and go back to your seat.”

The lump in Maac’s throat twitched. “I ain’t come here to hack off no snake people,” he rumbled.

“Then I’d apologize,” Bannor said.

Kegari folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Maac looked between the two Draconians. His eyes narrowed. “You sure talk tough, hidin behind these two. ‘Spose ya got any spine when they ain’t around?”

Sarai leaped from her seat. She started to raise her hand, and Bannor grabbed her arm. “No,” he growled, rising with agonized slowness. “Nobody fights my fights for me.” His bones felt like dough, but he kept himself poised. He leaned over the table, knuckles pressed into the hard surface. “You have a gripe Maac, or you just want trouble? Seems a poor reason to have your death on my conscience.”

“Death?” Maac eyed the Draconians, putting a step between him and them. “Gettin killed by a runt like you don’t worry me.”

Bannor sighed. “You should be.” He gripped the mithril axe in his belt. “I have family depending on me; lives to save. If that means walking over your carcass to do it—” he felt the words burn through him. “That’s how it’ll be. It doesn’t need to start with you—but it can.” He stared into the man’s eyes, feeling cold and certain. “You choose.”

Bannor figured Maac had been around. The scars and campaign tattoos on the warrior’s arms indicated he’d survived several wars. Once you’d done a few ports of call you heard plenty of tough talk. As a representative of Tenax law, Bannor had certainly listened to his share. Anyone who survived in the warrior’s profession for more than a few seasons knew how to distinguish a bluff from a real threat. He was hoping some world-wise savvy would steer this ruffian to easier prey.

The bully studied Bannor, his gaze going to the axe he’d gripped and was ready to use. “Yer a captain, huh? Tenax ranger, work the Corwin border, right?”

The shock jolted Bannor. “How do you know about that?”

“Got a reputation for being tough. Mercenary units I worked with didn’t like messin with you guys. Cost ‘em men. During the demon war in Western Ivaneth, heard about a ranger captain teamed up with a crazy Justicar and some Elves. Heard they did serious hurt on Hecate’s forces. Fought plenty ‘o minions myself. Hate ‘em, like killin skitter bugs, only they smell worse when they die.”

Sarai looked surprised too. Immediately her expression became one of suspicion. “How did you get here then, or get so big for that matter?” She indicated the group of mercenaries in the corner with her chin. “We’d of heard about a bunch of warriors your size in the fighting.”

“That big hole in the sky blew up and sucked thousands of us in. We woke up a hundred leagues from here. Been makin the best of it for the last few summers.”

“Summers?” Bannor repeated. “At best that only happened a tenday ago.”

“Maybe fer you. Been four seasons for me. As to bein big … live with giants and eat from the roots Yggrasil, you get big. By the way, just cause we got something in common don’t change nothing. Yer still a runt, and you still got too damn many ladies. Even if they is green.”

Bannor gritted his teeth. “What do want me to do about it?”

The muscles in Maac’s brawny neck twitched and his gaze went to the golden eyes of Kegari and then to Tymoril. “Well, for starts, you can shake my hand.” He stepped forward abruptly and thrust his open hand across the table. “Rangers, even runts, is okay by me. Even if they do keep company with dragons.”

Bannor paused, wondering if perhaps it was all a ruse. Kegari and Tymoril had tensed. If the man tried anything, he’d be sorry indeed. Bannor put his hand out and allowed it to be engulfed by Maac’s stony fist. The bigger man bore down enough to hurt, but not with the rock crushing force he could obviously exert.

Maac grinned, teeth wide and white in an otherwise homely face. “Hey, no ill will, eh? Have to make the greens you know. Keep ‘em honest.”

“Yes,” Bannor agreed. He knew. The mercenary way of life, shaking down the easy coin. “Sure you don’t want my ladies?”

The hulk sobered and stepped back again. “Nah. Green ain’t my color anyhow.”

“Green is-s an exc-ss-ellent color,” Tymoril hissed. “Are you s-saying its not?”

“Whoa.” Maac held up his hands. “On you, it’s good! Real good!”

Kegari’s nostrils flared, fingers flexing at her sides. “I did not hear him apologize.”

“Funny,” Sarai said with a big smile. “Neither did I.”

Maac’s brow furrowed. His stance shifted, he obviously sensed that she was serious. “Dontcha understand? I was funnin. No need to get riled.”

Kegari’s golden eyes became glowing slits. “I am not—funning, Manling.” She growled, body tensing. The hood on her head expanded as the many rows of fins on her scalp stiffened and rose. The green scales of her face shimmered, the edges turning red and blue. “I am not a snake! Your jest was not appreciated.”

Maac sucked air. “Hey, Tenax man, call er off.” His hand went to the knife on his belt. “Don’t want no scuff with a dragon!”

“I’m not her keeper, Maac. Your words, your problem.”

Back in the corner, Bannor saw the other mercenaries in Maac’s unit rise to their feet.

Kegari let out a hiss. The sound’s surprising volume startled two nearby patrons from their chairs in surprise. “Your apology, mortal. Sssss!” The Draconian visibly swelled, her clothing bulging as reptilian fins and bone plates stiffened with tension. “Your words-s, or your s-spine!” She snaked forward hands outstretched like talons, gold eyes glowing. She bared her fangs and smoke curled from her nostrils.

Patrons nearby fled their tables making space to either side of her.

Maac recoiled two steps, hands up. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry! No offense, really!”

Kegari let out a roar that made Maac’s hair blow back. A lantern came loose from its mooring and crashed onto a table top. Her outburst sliced the noise in the room like a cleaver through dinner-steak. “S-say it as-s if you mean it, Manling.” Her teeth gnashed. “Convince me not to eat your heart!” She ripped off one glove, revealing black talons that sparked as she clicked them together. “Do it—now!”

Two rows of people all around the Draconian and Maac cleared back to a safe distance.

Maac whimpered. He snatched a glance at his mercenary allies. None of them showed any inclination of coming to his rescue.

“Chooossse,” Tymoril drew the word out into a long hiss.

Trembling, the mercenary dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, Lady. I apologize! I didn’t mean nothin by it, really!”

Kegari paused, staring at Maac, teeth gritted, eyes glowing, the scales on her face shimmering. “You,” she wheezed as though having a hard time catching her breath. “You…” The Draconian made a hiccoughing sound and snorted. “You’re…” She covered her face with a hand, and convulsed. “such a … yokel!” She burst out laughing and turned back toward them. “Oooo, that was good! I haven’t lost my touch sister. Wet himself he did… Heeheehee sssss…”

Maac’s face flushed, his ears turning the color of blood. He rose with a growl and stalked off back through the crowd to his comrades who’d all begun laughing themselves.

The crowd, sensing that threat was over calmed down and people began returning to their seats, eyes from around the room watched Bannor’s table with distrust. Kegari pulled her glove back on, drew the hood around her features again, and settled back into her chair. Tymoril looked around a bit more before also returning to her seat. Bannor fell back into his chair as if his legs had turned to water. Sarai sank into her chair last, gaze scanning the crowd. She put a hand on his arm and looked sharply at the two dragons.

“While that might have been fun,” she said. “It wasn’t very smart.”

Kegari had just picked up the ale sitting in front of her. She paused with tankard half-way to her lips. “What?”

“Discretion. Weren’t we supposed to be discreet? Not attract the attention of Odin’s eyes?”

The tankard continued its journey and the Draconian took a big gulp of the stuff that Sarai aptly described as the concoction used to clean the keels of ships. The scales of the female’s face paled somewhat.

“Good isn’t it?” Tymoril asked.

Kegari cleared her throat, started to speak, then cleared it again. “Potent,” she said, voice rasping. “Their type,” she said looking to Sarai. “Must be s-shown s-strength, or they trouble us again.”

“What about his story?” Bannor asked. “Thousands brought here from Titaan?”

“True,” Tymoril said. “Many strange manlings appeared in the plains near Fjordside a few seasons ago. It was said that they were brought by an ether maelstrom.”

“But how could so much time pass?”

“Here in the outer planes, time is a whim of the gods,” Kegari said. “It is the bane of mortals.”

“Wish we hadn’t sent him off like that.”

“Why?” Sarai asked.

“We need a translator. We need toughs.”

“We can do better than that bunch,” Sarai said, face tight.

“Look around, we aren’t exactly in a situation to be choosy.”

She scanned the room. The grip on his arm tightened. “You know, you scared me, I thought you were getting ready to fight him.”

“I was.”

Her violet eyes locked on his. She let out a breath. Her expression was severe. “You know, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“Not to you perhaps, but to myself. I haven’t been holding up very well recently.”

“Bannor, no-one holds up well getting banged around the way you have.”

“Really, what about you?”

Sarai looked down at herself. Her cheeks reddened. “My One, I cheat.”

“Maybe I should start cheating then.”

“Bannor, I don’t want you to be anyone else other than who you are. You know I’m obsessed. It gives me a different kind of strength than you. That and I think you sometimes forget how much longer I’ve been around … how much more I’ve lived.”

“You’re right, I do. I just hate being…”

Sarai leaned across and gave him a kiss on the ear. “Bannor, given your full health, I have no doubt you could have embarrassed that big lout handily.”

Tymoril frowned. “The table is getting sticky from all that syrup.”

Sarai raised an eyebrow. “Fsst.” She made a clawing gesture. “You’re just jealous.”

The Draconian snorted, and sipped from her Dwarven ale.

“I don’t mind the syrup,” Kegari said, glancing at Tymoril. “Better that than two of you screeching at one another.”

The other Draconian harrumphed in her drink. She started to say something then her gold eyes widened. Bannor started to move right as something gripped his shoulder and pulled him backward in the chair. For an instant, he thought that Maac had returned to get a piece of him for his embarrassment. As he jerked loose and rolled to his feet, heart thudding what he saw instead made his bones go cold. A huge bearded warrior in the black and silver livery of Odin, wearing a horned helmet and carrying a shield emblazoned with the silhouette of the Odin’s eight-legged stead Slepnir; an Ajeer warrior. As Bannor dodged the fighter’s grip he saw three more Ajeer appear from the tavern wall, their beefy bodies seeming to sprout from the blackened scalewood timbers.

Bannor didn’t have the strength for anything fancy. He snatched the axe from his belt, dropped to his knees under the fighter’s grip and slammed the back of the axe head down on man’s instep, then whacked it across the inside of his exposed knee. The Ajeer grunted in pain and rolled backward.

Sarai met her man straight on, shoving a hand into his face and thrusting him backward. The warrior hurtled away from her as though fired from a catapult, smashing a hole in the tavern wall. The two remaining Ajeer paused, looking out the hole their comrade made, then at the man clutching his wounded anatomy on the floor. Bannor stepped back and stood next to Sarai. At the same time, the two lanky Draconians flowed around the table and took up positions one to either side of them.

The Ajeer nearest them spoke. The words themselves sounded like the language all the villagers spoke, but Bannor heard the meaning ring like an echo in his head. “By the will of Odin, surrender and you will not be slain.”

“You’re going to need more men to back that up,” Sarai growled.

As she said it, dozens of figures began materializing all around them.

Wren and I have an uneasy alliance. I started off not trusting her, but learned that she was one of the few really constant people I had ever met. She’s earned my respect, and I hope that I’ve earned hers. In the pinch, we work well together, and its good thing. When we’re together trouble just seems to fly at us…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 14
The Minions of Surtur

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Bannor stood next to Sarai, watching the odds get worse by the instant. As Odin’s elite Ajeer warriors began materializing all around them. Two burly fighters already confronted them, but in instants, a score more would surround them. They needed out fast. By shoving one of their attackers through the wooden sheeting of the nearby wall, Sarai provided the opening needed. That was if he could get past the warrior blocking the way.

Bannor didn’t wait for confirmations or strategy plans. He hurled his axe at the man and himself after it. The Ajeer reacted instinctively and dodged the whirling axe. Bannor plunged through the gap thus made.

“Come on!” he yelled, diving through.

Bystanders on the walkway outside let out yells of surprise as Bannor dove into their midst. He hit the planks with a painful jolt, rolled, and staggered to his feet. “Run!” he called to Sarai.

Struggling to stay upright, chest hurting, he charged across the street. Gathering up the axe he threw, he hobbled toward the nearest gap between the buildings.

The sound of steel clashing and the startled yells of bystanders grew fainter as he put distance between himself and the inn. He glanced back and saw Sarai leap through the gap followed by the two Draconians. Her sword was out and bloody. Red dripped from the gloves of the two Draconians. The fight with Odin was already escalating. How long before their attempts to thwart the god’s decision turned the conflict into a full scale war?

“This way!” he called to the others.

Sarai waved and sprinted toward him.

He didn’t wait for her to catch up, but lumbered at his best possible speed. They’d catch him. The excitement energy was already ebbing, and the extra strength it gave him waned.

He turned the corner between two residences, and pounded down the muddy shadowed area between them. The air smelled of mildewed wood and stagnant water, and he flailed at swarms of mote bugs.

Swords clanged in the street behind him. Sarai and the others had been cut off between the moment he saw them and his turning the corner. Should he go back? Sarai could protect herself. He helped best now by not providing a target that needed defending.

Leaning against walls, he lurched across another gap between buildings and into the shadow of two larger stone edifices. The battle followed him—yells, banging metal, and rapid footfalls.

He splashed through a puddle, hacked through some bushes, and kept an eye out for a good place to hole-up. As he passed the building on his left, he checked the gap for people, saw none and kept going. As he headed away, something caught his arm.

Yanked backward, he threw out a hand to catch himself, and ran face first into the chest of a brute twice his size. Hesitation meant death. He swung his axe. The massively built warrior caught his wrist. Glowing blue eyes met Bannor’s gaze. The man was clean-shaven with high cheek-bones and a narrow chin that gave his face a triangular appearance. He wore only a bleater-skin weskit, dark breeches, and fur boots. His powerfully muscled torso had dozens tiny circular burn marks, the scars of a long-time metal smith.

“Thor sends regards,” the man rumbled. “I am Modi.”

The sounds of fighting grew louder. Footfalls pounded toward them.

Modi glanced toward the sound and shoved Bannor back a step. “Thor bid me give you these.” He pulled two large iron gauntlets off a tether on his side and thrust them into Bannor’s hand. “Use them, but remember they must be returned.”

Two of Odin’s Ajeer appeared around the corner, raised their swords and let out battle cries. Modi stepped in front of Bannor caught their weapon arms as they swung at him. With a contemptuous shove, he slammed the two men into the walls on either side. They hit and slumped down unconscious. He looked back at Bannor and poked him in the chest with a steel hard finger. “Remember, they are my Father’s, not yours.” He faded from view.

Sarai appeared right where Modi stood an instant before. She saw the two fallen men. “My One, are you..?”

“Uninjured,” he reported.

Kegari and Tymoril slid to a stop. Both dragon ladies were grinning. The fighting appeared to agree with them.

He examined the heavy iron and hide gauntlets. Why would Thor send him these? What good would they do?

“Where to?” Tymoril asked. “More Ajeer soon.”

“Follow.” Bannor moved off in the direction he’d been going before Modi stopped him.

Sarai stayed with him. “What are those?”

“Thor sent them to me.” He swallowed, steeling himself to take a big chance. They might be a trap. He slid his hand into the first of the gloves.

The moment his fingers had pressed all the way in, the black metal glowed, growing warm. Abruptly, the loose fitting mesh contracted to become a perfect fit around his hand.

Sarai’s eyes widened. “What do they do?”

He swallowed. “Don’t know. Any help would be good now.” He switched his axe to the gauntleted hand, and pulled on the other armored glove. It also glowed when in place, growing even hotter than the first as it shrank to fit his hand. A tremble went through his arms, then a shooting pain down his spine.

Agony made him stagger and fall. He groaned as he hit the dirt writhing. It felt as if his body had caught fire.

“Bannor!” Sarai knelt by him. “What’s wrong?”

He tried force words through gritted teeth without success.

“The gauntlets,” Tymoril said. “They must be cursed!”

“Get them off!” Sarai grabbed his hand and yanked at the mesh.

Kegari crouched by him doing the same.

Together they struggled with the metal covering his hands. Their efforts only made it hurt more. The material seemed to have joined with his skin. He let out another yell as pain sizzled through his bones.

“Ajeer,” Tymoril called. “We must go.”

Sarai and Kegari hoisted him to his feet and propelled him down the alley.

The agony made his vision distort. The burning sensation changed to a feeling of being compressed as if he was being crushed inside his own skin. The muscles in his arms and legs jerked and twitched.

They turned down a major fairway between the town’s buildings. A small copse of trees that lay within the heart of the village provided the only hiding available. They leaned into a fast jog, dragging him along.

“Ssss, go, go, go!” Tymoril urged from behind. “Smell them coming.”

“Bannor—Bannor!” Sarai was saying to him. “What’s wrong!”

“Burning—up!” he managed to grunt out.

They reached the shadow of the trees. Standing stones and markings made it apparent that the area served some religious purpose. Sarai and Kegari let him go into the soft grass after they were completely obscured by vegetation.

“Have to get these off!” Sarai gripped one of the gloves.

The pain stopped. The sensation of being crushed halted. He abruptly felt as if he weighed nothing. His arms and legs went from feeling like anchors to floater-leaves that wanted to rise like sparks above a campfire. The radical change was euphoric.

“Oh yes,” he gasped. “Ah… Thanks, whatever you did. It worked!”

Sarai’s violet eyes narrowed. “I didn’t do anything.”

“It stopped hurting.”

Tymoril looked around nervously. “Not safe. Must not stay still.”

Kegari’s hips twitched side to side. If the Draconian possessed a tail, she’d be lashing it back and forth. She stared at the black gloves with her golden eyes narrowed. “Gifts of gods … dangerous … always a price … always…”

Bannor moved to rise. As he did so, the trees around them shimmered. In a heartbeat, armored figures had stepped from every tree. Like living things, chains snaked out of their hands, lashing around Sarai, Kegari, and Tymoril. Being on the ground, the metal links only wrapped around one of his arms and part of his body.

The Draconians roared, their slender bodies going into furious action. The Ajeer holding onto them flew forward as powerful reptilian muscles reacted with whirlwind speed. Chains clanked and men yelped in surprise. Sarai snatched off two of the chains clinging to her, the metal flashing incandescent as her glowing hand passed through them.

Heart galloping, Bannor rolled to his feet still half bound, wrapped his fist in the chain around his waist, and yanked. The metal shrieked as did the two warriors anchoring it. They slammed into the dirt at his feet. He heaved on the iron binding his arm. The metal links exploded.

Surprised, he hesitated. It gave two more Ajeer the opportunity to lunge forward and pinion his arms.

Sarai and the two dragons were blurs of movement exchanging attacks with a score of Ajeer all trying to snare them with the chains.

Two men, each a head taller than himself, levered on Bannor’s arms. The two easily had enough strength to snap his bones. The pain should have been excruciating. Instead—nothing, he felt exhilarated—strong, better than he had in moons. With a battle yell, he brought his wrists together. The men lost their grip on him as he tore free. He planted a hand against one man’s chest and shoved. The Ajeer slammed into a tree and sent a crack splintering up its bole.

Thor’s gift had healed him, but better than that, his strength had increased twenty fold!

He snatched his axe off the ground in time to ward off the sword blow aimed at his head. Backpedaling, he dodged around two men knocked flying by Sarai.

More warriors took a stealthy approach, trying to surprise her while she was occupied. Bannor rushed in and rapped one, then another in the back of the head with the haft of his axe. Violet eyes gleaming like jewels, Sarai whirled on him with a snarl, glowing fist raised to strike. Magical light blazed around his beloved, strands of her silvery hair flicked as though tossed in a wind. Her wild appearance was terrifying and beautiful at the same time.

Recognizing him, she halted her attack, relief and surprise in her face. A whistle of air from behind made him reflexively dodge. A slice of pain cut across his arm leaving a stripe of blood. The Ajeer stepped in to reverse the cut. Bannor countered with the head of his axe, hooking the blade over and down.

The man drew back to continue his attack, then froze. He clutched his throat with a gagging sound, eyes bulging and face turning red. Sarai’s glowing eyes flashed white and she gestured as though flicking away a bug. Pawing at his face as though punched, the warrior staggered backward and pitched over.

“Stay—away,” she growled.

The trees flashed red as something exploded nearby. Several Ajeer screamed. Kegari and Tymoril howled as ball of fire erupted into them. Some of the Ajeer caught in the blaze melted like wax.

Bannor saw another star-bright blaze appear behind Sarai. “Down!” He dove and caught her around the waist carrying the two of them bouncing along the ground as the blast shattered the trees behind them.

He rolled to his feet, searching for the new attackers. He found them, figures bigger than ogres. The one nearest was silhouetted by crimson light that was already growing too bright to view. Bannor aimed and let his hand-axe fly.

The weapon whipped into the creature with an impact that cracked through the clearing. The creature pitched backward and a ball of magic exploded upwards, shattering trees and setting them ablaze.

The ground rumbled, then roared. Rocks and sod boiled up and engulfed another of the giants readying to attack. Sarai, eyes white and gleaming, pounded her fist into her palm. An ear numbing shock that vibrated Bannor’s bones accompanied each impact. Trees shattered and cracks opened in the turf. The glow around the giant faded after the forth hit.

The remaining Ajeer warriors cast about in confusion as two more gleaming red creatures appeared. Odin’s fighters directed their attacks at the giants, swarming on them as they did the dragons.

Leaping through burning brush and vaulting cracks in the ground, Bannor rushed to Kegari and Tymoril. The two huge Draconians lay still. Their clothing was ash, and their metal weapons and armor nothing but slag. Blistered and split, their green scales looked the color of char.

Bannor grabbed Tymoril, doubting he could lift the huge creature but determined to move her as far as he could while the Ajeer kept the fire creatures busy. He levered the massive Draconian without effort and managed to sling her over his shoulder.

He looked for Sarai. For an instant, he thought one of the fire giants had caught them, then realized the huge figure was Sarai, now twice her normal size.

“Go!” She told him. “I have Kegari!” She scooped up the Draconian and pounded after him.

Though he had the strength to hold Tymoril, keeping his balance was impossible. He stumbled and bounced against trees. The stench of singed flesh was strong, along with the odor of charred and burning vegetation. Scalding drafts of air hit him in the face. Behind them, the screams of dying Ajeer grew fewer as the creatures burned their way through the resistance. Flames licked everywhere. Swirling smoke and ashes made it hard to see. Bells in the town rang and people yelled alarms. Bannor felt the weight of Tymoril lifted away.

“I have her,” Sarai boomed behind him. “Run. Those things are catching up, we have to find someplace to make a stand.”

Bannor leaned into a sprint. Trees were the last place they wanted to fight a creature that fought with fire. The hard rock of the mountainsides lay a quarter league off. They couldn’t lead those monsters into a town full of people.

Bannor saw only one spot of hard cover, a cluster of boulders a short distance outside the densest mass of buildings. Committed, the he bolted toward it with Sarai pelting after him.

He flailed his arms at the townsfolk screaming at them to get away. They didn’t understand his language, but he hoped the urgency of his screams communicated enough. Behind them, Bannor saw in the light what attacked them. Huge black-skinned giants with fiery embers for eyes and flaming hair stomped out of the trees in pursuit. Plate-armor that glowed red from heat covered their broad bodies.

He turned his attention back to finding cover. He and Sarai weren’t the only ones making for the rocks, a dozen men led by one smaller one were also charging to that position. They were the mercenaries from the bar.

The mercenaries reached the rocks ahead of them, the smallest of them dressed in silver armor leaped up the rocks like a hopping bug, surmounting head high boulders as if they were level ground.

By the time Bannor reached the boulders, the leader had taken position at the summit of the highest rock. The light from the sun reflected off the mirror polish of his mail and Bannor made out that the figure was limbering a bow. The rest of the fighters spread out, preparing bows, crossbows, and spears.

Sarai thundered into a crevice behind Bannor, depositing the two Draconians in a safe spot shielded by the rocks.

“Hey, runt! You ain’t grown, but yer girl sure has! Need some help with those nasties?”

Bannor found the source of the Maac’s gravelly barrel drum voice. The huge mercenary had his helmet on, a spear in the crook of his arm, and a triangular battle shield on his arm.

“Hope you guys know what you’re getting into!”

“The minions of Surtur,” Maac yelled back. “Hope you’re ready to be enemies with the king of the fire giants!”

After placing the Draconians in the rocks Sarai leaped back out to stand by Bannor, as she did so, she dwindled until she was his size. Her body crackled and her skin took on a metallic sheen.

“Stay where I can see and hear you,” she said to him. “You don’t want me stumbling on you. I can’t feel anything when I’m like this.”

Above them the silver warrior let out a yell. The accent was unusual and the timbre of the voice sufficient to be heard across the largest of battlefields. “Bows! First rank! Spears! Second rank.”

Sarai squinted in the bright light to look at the person atop the rocks.

The mercenaries prepared their weapons. Sarai tossed Bannor her bow and quiver, narrowing her eyes that turned from lavender to white. She raised her hands the way a knife thrower prepared for battle.

Bannor took a handful of arrows from the quiver and thrust them in the ground and his feet. He grabbed one, licked the key fletching, notched the arrow and drew the string to his cheek.

There had been more of the creatures than Bannor initially saw. A score of the giants charged their position, each three times the height of a normal man, their bodies on fire, their weapons flashing in the daylight.

“Draw shaft!” The silver armored man yelled from the top of the rocks. “Horse squad, select laming targets! Foot squad, shoot for the vitals! Ready!”

Bannor barely felt the pull of the bow. He remembered thinking that the powerful war bow that Sarai had created was too much weapon even for him. He held his breath, centering the barbed phalanx arrow on the throat of the lead creature charging toward them shield raised.

“Wait… Wait… Shoot!”

A half dozen arrows and crossbow bolts hissed out, some finding their marks on knees and insteps, others high in the chest and throat. Bannor’s own arrow thudded past the fletchings above the collar of the first giant. The creature stumbled, but kept stride. Two white-feathered arrows shrieked out, each one thudding home into an eye socket. The monster hit face down with a boom.

Sarai made chopping motions. Waves of dirt and loam tore the feet from under a couple creatures. She finished them with pounding gestures that slammed bloody craters where they fell.

Bannor let fly twice more hitting lead creatures, and slowing the ones behind them. The silver armored archer continued his steady assault, slotted arrows whistling as they hurtled into ears, eyes, and temples of the front runners.

Seven of the monsters fell before the first of the fireballs burst toward them. The mercenaries dove for cover as the first blast shattered rock and fused dirt. At least one man died with a brief scream.

Sarai swung her arms up and a wall of soil thrust into the path of two more bolts of fire. The concussion knocked Bannor down and he scrambled back to his feet. With her skin hardened like steel, Sarai stood unaffected in the center of a storm of smoke, smoldering sand, and burning vegetation. Diving to get out of the burning conflagration moved him closer to the creatures. With the gap narrowed, it forced him to drop the bow and take up the axe as one of the giants bore on him.

He dodged the massive hammer that boomed down, then dove in, bringing his own axe whistling into the creature’s shin. Urged by the strength given to him by Thor’s gauntlets, the axe chopped the leg out from under the massive being.

As it went down, two more white arrows sprouted from the vitals of another giant swinging up to strike him. He leaped aside as the monster fell on its comrade pinning it down. He looked back to the silver archer, but was still unable to make out details in the glare.

Two more giants died in the exchange and two more mercenaries died. Having lost half their number, the creatures broke ranks and retreated.

They pounded off in the direction they came.

Hands on knees, Bannor panted. He was covered with milky-colored blood. The stuff burned and he clawed his tunic off and wiped at the fetid smelling goo.

Sarai pressed her hands together, closed her eyes, and her flesh lost that metallic shine. She hurried to Bannor. “My One, what’s …???”

“Get the stuff off! It burns!”

“Jackdar!” They heard yelled from the rocks. “Douse him!”

One of the mercenaries rushed up with a water-skin and squirted him with liquid. The water took the burning away. By the time it was finished, half his clothing was eaten through with smoking holes.

“Gad, that’s foul,” Bannor waved his hand and stepped away.

Sarai hugged him. “You scared me.”

“I scared me.” He gave her a quick kiss. The taste and feel of her helped his hands to stop shaking.

Sarai turned to the mercenaries. “Thanks for helping us.”

The commander leaped down from the rocks. As he landed at the bottom, it was apparent that his skin was pale and his hair long and silver colored.

“That’s what fathers do, isn’t it? Chase after their children and fight their wars for them, right?”

Sarai’s eyes went wide.

Bannor’s stomach knotted. The silver armored warrior was King Jhaann T’Evagduran of Malan—Sarai’s father.

Sarai is headstrong child. She has always been driven to excel, and she is accomplished in many things, especially in raising my ire. Still, she is the child I feel closest too. She is the child who in her constant defiance, ended up most like me. That is a irony that I never have quite understood.

—Jhaan T’Evagduran

King of Malan

Chapter 15
The Lord of Malan

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Sarai froze, staring at the pale-haired king, his fine mail shining like a mirror in the bright light. The gray elven ruler’s narrow face with its slash of a nose, smooth cheeks, and sharp chin reminded Bannor of an arrow point; metal hard and deadly. In the stark light, Sarai’s resemblance to the King was as plain as a tree in the desert.

“Father?” Her expression went from incredulity to surprise. “Father!” Like a shot from crossbow, she pounced on T’Evagduran, giving him a fierce hug. “You’re here!”

“Mi’Ika I’m so—whoa!” His air rushed out in a blast as she squeezed, apparently forgetting her strength. A little stunned, he drew a breath and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “My little one is not so any more, and hale enough to break ribs. Seeing you is—” He hugged her again. Bannor saw his fists white knuckled behind her back. For a moment, it looked like the steely elf might weep. A couple of the mercenaries walked over. The sound of their armor made him stiffen. He straightened and visibly mastered himself. He took her hands in his. “It has been so long, I feared all of you dead!”

“How did you get here!?” Sarai vibrated, shaking the elder with her exuberance.

“How do you think, Child?” he answered. “I was tracking your mother and yourself. The rift collapsed and pulled us in.” He stopped as the clangor of alarms started in the town. Village people were scrambling to prevent their houses from burning. Parties were forming to combat the fire. The smoke from the burning trees had become a giant black column rising into the sky. Already it was growing difficult to breathe. The Elven leader frowned as he looked toward the flame crowned trees. “We can speak after we lend ourselves to the enterprise of fighting the fire.”

The fire. Bannor looked at Thor’s black iron gauntlets. He’d almost killed himself trying to use the Garmtur against the Thunder-god in his weakened state. Did the gauntlets actually cure him, or did magical devices simply mask his lack of strength? Even organized, the town couldn’t dowse that fire. It started in too many places and grew too fast.

He calmed himself and allowed himself to see with the Garmtur’s perception. The flames appeared as a complex interplay of lashing threads. The flames themselves had no threads, but seemed to grow out of the clash. Moments like this made him wish he’d gone with Wren that first day, he and Sarai would be safe and he’d have learned so much more than he knew now. His use of the Garmtur was so clumsy, yanking on threads of reality, breaking and severing them in order to get a desired affect. Breaking threads now would make things worse.

“Bannor?” Sarai asked. “You’ve fought fires before, what do we do?”

He looked around at the group of mercenaries then at the townsfolk already using buckets and shovels to toss sand and dirt on the hot embers settling on roofs.

“There aren’t enough people,” he said. “I thought maybe to use the Garmtur, but I looked at the fire and don’t know how to quench it.”

Maac walked over and leaned on his spear. “Garmtur? What’s that?”

“Big magic,” Bannor said. “Scary magic.”

The huge mercenary snorted.

“The Garmtur?” King T’Evagduran frowned. “Your mother never explained why she sided with you and this—” he stopped, but Bannor knew the unspoken word was ‘peasant’. “Is that why she got involved in that fool’s endeavor—because you acknowledged a bloody wilder!?”

Sarai pushed back from him. “She got into this fool’s endeavor because she’s my mother and she loves me. We couldn’t hide our heads from Hecate. We needed to do something. We did it.”

The King growled. “What you did was dismember the entire royal house—your eldest sister is all that’s left! All for a—” He glared at Bannor. “Principle.”

Sarai stared at her father for long heartbeats, her face stiff and eyes wide. Bannor felt certain she would explode. She drew a breath. Her voice, when she spoke came out measured with restraint. “Father, I’m too glad to see you to get angry.” Sarai turned to Bannor. “We can get that fire out together.” She pressed a hand to her chest that began to glow. Her fingers seemed to pass through her flesh as she pulled something out, and held it up. “This will help us.”

Bannor eyed the black gem with a feeling of unease. He didn’t know why, but Idun’s gift, the flux-stone, made him nervous. Kegari’s warning about the gifts of gods, and his recent experience with the gauntlet only made his unease more acute.

Sarai took Bannor by the shoulder and made him look into the wavering tongues of yellow, orange, and red. This hiss and crack of burning wood already sounded loud as streamers of hot embers and smoke billowed skyward. She pulled out his gauntleted hand, placed the stone in his palm and closed his fingers around it. She gripped his fist with both of her hands.

“Let me see the threads through your eyes, my One.”

“Star, there are too many …!”

“Let me worry about that.”

Feeling uncomfortable, but trusting Sarai, Bannor let himself see the maelstrom of energies writhing above the burning forest. The snap of atmospheric turbulence, the interplay of heat splitting threads and joining others. He watched as heat transformed living wood into char, vapors, and moisture.

He didn’t sense what Sarai was doing until that moment. As he grasped the transforming nature of the fire, she seized on the concept. Through some twisting of magic in the flux stone, she made him filter out everything except the blue and crimson threads of the moisture and heat.

Her hand tightened around his. She stomped on the ground. A tremor rumbled underfoot. Dust and ashes sprung up in the trees and formed a grayish geyser spewing into the sky. Like a fine musician playing a harp, Sarai plucked at the threads of moisture in the sky and in the ground. She reached out to the channels of heat, drawing on their radiant energy. Sarai’s body grew hot as the flame’s non-life filled her. She used that energy to reach further into the sky. Through him she found a few threads in the sky and twisted them together with the heat, moisture, and ash. Dark clouds formed, the wind picked up.

In ones and twos, raindrops hit the ground, growing steadily more frequent. In the space of moments, it became a downpour.

Sarai laughed and shook both fists. “Yes!” She danced around him, and bounced in front of her father, making splashes in the forming puddles. “Impressive, no?”

All of the mercenaries were staring up into the storm that had boiled into existence overhead. They all wore fearful expressions.

The King looked up as sheets of rain pelted down, dousing the forest fire. The droplets ran on his pale skin and clung to his thick silver hair. He raised his voice to be heard in the pounding rain. “Impressive, yes.”

Sarai put her arms around Bannor’s neck and grinned up at him. “We’re good together, aren’t we?”

Bannor’s chest tightened. Even soaked in the rain she was too beautiful for words. He kissed her for an answer. He held out the flux stone to her. Why did she have to love the magic as much as him?

“Thank you.” She kissed him on the nose, and plucked the gem from his palm. She turned toward the rocks and started toward them. “Now, we better look to Kegari and Tymoril. Father, we—oooh.” She staggered and clutched her stomach. She gritted her teeth and straightened herself with a jerk.

“Sarai?” Bannor put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

She covered his hand with hers. Her voice trembled. “I was dizzy for a moment. It’s passed.”

It didn’t look like dizziness to him. She acted hurt.

The King seemed to notice it too. “Mi’Ika…”

“Father,” she said in flat tone. “I’m fine. It was big magic. Simply a little backlash.”

“Damn right,” murmured Maac, still staring at her in awe.

The other mercenaries rumbled agreement.

“Bannor,” Sarai said in a voice that sounded forced. “Help me with Tymoril and Kegari.”

He followed as she moved into the rocks. Her movements looked fluid and certain, with nothing to indicate anything wrong.

He bent by Kegari. The rain was washing away the black ash covering the scales of the two dragons. The pale green tissues beneath looked like metal. When he touched the smooth surface, it was warm and pliable. The Draconian’s heartbeat was still strong and her breathing shallow. He knew so little about these creatures.

“No change, as far as I can tell.”

Sarai shook her head. “None here either. We need someplace dry to work on them. Can you move her?”

He nodded.

She pursed her lips. “What’ll happen when you take those gauntlets off?”

The question made a tremble go through him. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure why Thor sent them to me.”

Sighing, she nodded. “Come on, let’s get them out of here.” He drew a breath as she bent and hefted the huge dragon. When she first demonstrated elemental strength, it scared him. Even now, it still made him uneasy.

He wrapped his arms around Kegari and hoisted her to his shoulder. Together, he and Sarai trudged out of the rocks with their weighty burdens. The mercenaries and the King looked at them with wide eyes.

“Father, is there a place we can hole up and examine our friends?”

T’Evagduran looked from her to Bannor. He nodded. “There’s a place in the village. How long will the rain last?”

“Not sure,” Sarai answered. “Getting the rain started wasn’t hard. Keeping it from going out of control, that was difficult.”

The stiff expression came over the Elven ruler’s face. Bannor wasn’t sure what emotion might be going through him right now. He must be glad to find his daughter alive. Elves didn’t like change, and the Sarai standing here little resembled the daughter that snuck out of Malan three summers ago.

The King looked around at the mercenaries. “Later, when the rain stops, each of us will say some words over our comrades fallen in battle.” His gaze went to the scorched places where the battle hardened mercenaries once braced to fight the giants. The rain wore away at the scorched spots where they’d been standing. Nothing remained but slag metal and charred bone.

“It is well for their spirits that they died serving not the coin, but helping protect those who could not protect themselves. Their end was swift, and now their ashes mingle with the soil of this faraway place. I knew Klegarn, Talbot, and Rowe, they had started to grow fond of this new land.” He bowed his head. “Now, they shall dwell here forever.”

The other men also bowed their heads.

“Come,” T’Evagduran ordered, and headed toward the heart of the village.

Sarai looked to Bannor. The expression on her face showed that she wasn’t the only one who changed. Her father had been in this place since Maac had arrived. At least three summers. As Bannor well knew, much could change in that time—even human-hating fathers.

They trudged through the town. The farmers and other people stopped to watch them pass. From the general tone of yells filtering down the street, word of their fighting the giants and bringing down the rain had spread. The fearful looks, and yells of obvious thanks confirmed it.

Maac pulled along side of Bannor. “Me an the boys want to know how you two are doin that.”

“Doin—” Bannor corrected himself. “Doing what?”

“Hey, those Draks have to weigh thirty stone if they’s a shingle.”

Bannor stared at him hard. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t take it personal when you called me a ‘runt’.”

The man’s ugly face tightened. “Guess-so. Yer girlly, what’s her secret?”

“First of all,” Bannor growled. “Call her that again and I will have to hurt you. As to our secret, giants gave you size, gods gave us magic.”

Sarai sped up a little to look around Bannor to Maac. “Oh, and by the way, if he doesn’t hurt you for calling me ‘girlly’. I will.”

“Hey, hey,” Maac held up his hand. “You guys is so formal and proper. I didn’t mean no disrespect. Really.”

The King looked back. “That is good, Maac. Otherwise, I would hurt you.”

Maac shook his head. “Damn. Yer all so tight! I can see havin the boss’ daughter around is gonna be no fun at all.”

“The boss?” Sarai snorted. “Father, what is this foolishness—‘The boss’?”

The King looked back. “This is not Malan. My covenants mean little here.”

“Whatsamatter?” Maac wanted to know. “He is our boss. Best damn commander we ever had.”

Sarai let out a breath and rolled her eyes.

“Dom’Ista,” Bannor said. “I take it they don’t know who you are.”

The King swung his hands skyward in a disgusted gesture. “They didn’t believe me.”

“Didn’t believe you?” Sarai sputtered, almost dropping Tymoril. “Your guards—”

The King interrupted her by holding up a hand. “When these men found me, there weren’t any left, and I—” he paused. “I was cut off. It was thirty to my one, and I was making my last stand.”

“Standin all right if ya ask me,” Maac rumbled. “Them demons was piled head high. Yer father’s big problem was he ran outta arrows. He’s probably the best that ever was with a bow. His sword-work now … It’s—” He looked at the King and rubbed his chin. “Let’s just say fer him it’s a last resort in my thinkin.”

“My sword is fine,” T’Evagduran growled. “I had run out of energy and hope. Their arrival was timely and fighting grew so pitched that I was forced to stay with them to have any chance of getting back to the lines.”

Sarai stopped. “All of your guards, Father?”

The King turned back to them, the rain dragging strands of silver hair across his face. His amber eyes were hooded and his face abruptly stony. When he spoke his voice was cold and stark. “All.”

Sarai and her father locked gazes. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“As am I, Child.” He swallowed. “As am I.”

Bannor felt the tension growing heavy. The tension wasn’t the only heavy thing, the dragon on his shoulder was beginning to feel like a mountain. “We need to get out of the rain.”

T’Evagduran looked up and nodded. “It is only a short distance.”

Everyone followed in silence. Everyone seemed to have picked up the darkening of T’Evagduran’s mood, and no one said anything more.

The village people buzzed around them, agitated by the sudden fire and more abrupt rain. Twice, people stopped them and T’Evagduran spoke to the people in the local language. Bannor assumed he was explaining what happened.

They came to some larger buildings that Bannor guessed to be a livestock area. There were corrals for horses as well as pens for food and milk stock.

They went through the double gate of the largest of them. Inside, it had two levels with a feed loft and a large floor level area sectioned off into stalls. A cleared out area in the back perhaps twenty paces on a side was strewn with packs, bedrolls and other traveling paraphernalia.

Getting in out of the wet was an immediate relief. The familiar smells of dampness, livestock, and spoiled grain permeated the area. Bannor listened as the rain drummed on the roof, and the structure creaked as gusts of wind made the wood settle.

“The homes in a such a small town couldn’t put us up, so we took the next best thing,” the King explained. “We had been on the road a while, and were resting up a few days before moving on.”

Sarai found a pile of golden-reed and lay Tymoril in it. Bannor kicked together some more close by and settled Kegari next to her.

Around them the mercenaries started unbuckling their weapons and armor, some of them collapsed onto the floor with sighs. They all looked tired and wet.

Bannor pulled at his soaked tunic and removed it. He wiped his face and hair and hung it across a stall board. It was cool to be in bare skin, but better than the chill wetness of soggy cloth. He shook his head, looking at the two dragons. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with them.”

The gates to the building slammed and the locking bar clunked down into its moorings. A totally unfamiliar masculine voice echoed behind them. “I was thinking the same thing.”

The only salvation I have ever needed was learning how to ‘be’—or so I discovered—through many a battering and rough circumstance. Unfortunately, knowing how to ‘be’ is only half the equation. Being able to make use of that ‘being’ is of course another trick. Once you get the knack it’s not so bad—as long as you can get some immortal to loan you their body. Strangely, I haven’t gotten many offers…

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 16
A Story for Loki

« ^ »

An instinctive sense of dread shot through Bannor as he heard the voice behind them. Nothing in the tone had been overtly threatening, it lacked the force or menace that suggested an enemy capable of doing them harm. For some irrational reason, that made it worse. He probed the ether with the Garmtur as he turned to look toward the loft doors that someone had shut behind them.

To normal sight, a smallish man leaned against the loft gates with his arms folded in a posture that suggested he thought he could take all challengers. His milk-colored skin, high forehead, and slender body gave the impression of frailty. Bound with silver bands into a single thick tail, his waist length hair looked composed of shadows. Except for leather boots dyed to a bright yellow hue, his clothes were those of a woodsman, a forest green tunic and matching breeches.

Judging the man strictly by his visual appearance provided no evidence for alarm. The aura that Bannor detected with the Garmtur told another story. A tangled web of elemental and magical threads connected him to every source of energy nearby. Bannor saw magical threads looped through the man he’d never seen before. If he wasn’t one of the Asgardian gods, he possessed power equal to one of them.

Sarai who had been examining the dragons rose and focused in the direction of the voice. As Sarai’s gaze settled on the newcomer she jerked as though something had jabbed her. She gripped her chest. “Loki!”

Bannor looked to her. “You know him?”

“No—” she frowned. “His name just came to me.”

The King moved to stand by Bannor and folded his arms. “What do you want of us trickster?”

The man identified as Loki tilted his head to one side, his slim face fixed in an expression that Bannor could only call a mixture of boredom and derision. “Now, this is interesting.” He pushed away from the doors and put his arms behind his back. He kicked a pile of golden-reed from his path, and scanned the rafters and the walls on either side. “Something unexpected,” he went on, showing no sign he’d heard the King’s question. “All of you … out of place, out of tune, and above your station … marvelous.”

The last thing Bannor wanted right now was another fight. Thor came close to killing Sarai and him. Only Idun’s intervention kept them alive. The fight with the Thundergod had been mostly a physical hand-to-hand combat. One look at Loki said that any confrontation with him would involve magic. Given the power he could saw all around this creature, Loki was far more dangerous than Thor.

Every man in this building and half the town would be slain if he and Sarai and Loki began a magical clash. There had to be a way to distract Loki, make him want something else. He’d have to go with instinct and hope he Sarai and the King played along.

He cleared his throat. “You aren’t here to help Odin. So, what’s your interest in us?”

At the mention of Odin, the god’s attention centered on Bannor. He felt the creature’s attention like hot needles against his skin. “You, Ka’Amok, where is your collar?”

Ka’Amok? Bannor frowned. He thought he remembered Wren saying that was a name the gods gave to savants.

Before Bannor could formulate a suitable answer, The god’s eyes flashed and became glowing red coals. “Perhaps, I’ll put mine on you.”

Bannor saw at least a dozen threads of elemental magic snake toward him. The strength Loki was using gave Bannor no alternative but to meet the attack with the full extent of the Garmtur. He snared all of the threads with a mental swing of his arms and ripped them free of their moorings with a single psychic heave. Bannor gasped. The effort made a wrench of pain shoot through him, grabbing the threads had been like sticking his hands into a hive of stinger bugs.

Sparks erupted around Loki and the god staggered, his glowing eyes widened. The bored expression vanished. His jaw set. His cheek twitched. A tear the color of blood brimmed in his eye and trickled down his face. The god reached up with a finger and hooked the drop off to examine it, then licked the blood off. “That … was … unfriendly.”

Sarai looked over at Bannor with alarmed expression. “Talk to us! We don’t want to fight you.”

Loki’s attention snapped to her. “Speak not, pretender bitch,” he snarled. “You have no words I wish to hear.” He focused on Bannor. “I believed Odin’s discourse about a god-slayer to be hollow musings. I was mistaken in that and other evaluations it appears. The lot of you are supposed to be dead.” His gaze swept the group, Bannor heard the men drawing breaths as the god’s attention swept over them. Loki stopped on the dragons. “What a shame, my giants appear to have broken Idun’s toys. I will have to send my regrets.”

“Damn you,” T’Evagduran yelled. “Tell us what you want!”

Again, Loki didn’t seem to hear or notice the King.

Was it Bannor’s imagination or did this creature have a short attention span? He reached out, snared one of Loki’s main magical threads and clamped down. The creature possessed magical defenses unlike anything he’d encountered before. Again he received a painful backlash that took his breath away. Bannor fought through it, and snapped the conduit. The broken thread kicked and lashed like a beheaded serpent.

Loki gasped, a shudder went through his body. He looked at one hand that trembled as he raised it. His gaze fixed on Bannor again. “You certainly are an annoying midge. Are you in such a hurry to die?”

“I would rather parlay, but we keep getting off topic.”

The god strolled forward. The air grew cooler as he came close. He brought with him the smell of strong liquor and wood smoke. “And what subject were we avoiding? My considerations only involved determining the most creative way of disposing with this bunch of giant killers.”

Bannor drew a breath. He felt burned inside. “The point is we’d rather not be disposed of. Fact is, disposing of us will be—painful. You think I’m annoying now…” Bannor narrowed his eyes. “How do you think I got these?” He raised his gauntleted hands.

Loki’s eyes went from red to white, and he pressed his lips to a line. “You could not have defeated my half-brother.”

“Is he in the habit of just loaning them out?”

Loki stared at him, no expression of his face. What the god might be thinking about he couldn’t begin to guess.

Bannor didn’t wait. He pressed on. “Thor was sent to get us, correct? How else would we be here?”

These last words seemed to reach the god. He nodded, eyes narrowed. Bannor didn’t think he was quite convinced yet.

“Heimdall was set to prevent our escape while Thor moved in covertly to secure us.” Bannor held out his gauntleted hands. “That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

A smile worked its way onto Loki’s face. “Yes, it was. Neither of them has been heard from…” Loki paused. “And you have Thor’s gauntlets.” He would have to be humbled terribly to give them up. “Describe to me his humbling. Please me, and you are free to go.”

Bannor swallowed. It wasn’t exactly what he expected, but they could work with it. He looked to Sarai who looked ready to fight, but not eager for it. The King nodded in assent.

If a story would buy their way out of this conflict, he was all for it. Marshaling himself, he composed in his mind what was safe to tell this enemy. He described the fight with Thor, and the terrible drubbing of Idun. At the description of Idun’s bloody form collapsed in a crater, the god wore a grin that showed that he raptly enjoyed the pain of others.

“Sweet,” Loki murmured. “How horribly sweet. Go on, it gets better I can tell.”

Bannor was having problems focusing. Using the Garmtur against this powerful opponent had drained his energy. Being in close proximity to Loki was leeching away his remaining strength. The god’s attention was like a physical force pushing against him, as though he fought to move forward in a gale.

Sarai apparently noticed his weakness. She came and took his arm to keep him standing. The god frowned at her intrusion, but forgot his annoyance when Bannor continued his description.

He knew now what Loki wanted to hear, but also knew the god would know if he lied. He described the battle of wills, and Thor’s yells of pain.

Loki closed his fists and shuddered as though in ecstasy. Bannor went on to describe the final moments, but stopped before saying that Thor gave in.

“Could he really be?” Loki drew a breath. The room appeared to grow warmer. “That is why I no longer sensed him. The stiff-necked fool actually—” He looked skyward. “I must investigate.”

The god vanished.

Bannor sagged against Sarai. She took him around the neck. “Inspired, my One, truly inspired.”

“I didn’t want to get all of us killed trying to fight him.”

“Thought we were dead,” Maac rumbled sitting on the floor. “Didn’t know why we wasn’t just give’n that runt the heave until he looked at me. Felt like getting turned inside out.”

A few of the other mercenaries rumbled agreement.

The King heaved a sigh. He rubbed his angular face and pushed his hands through his thick silver hair. A shudder went through his lanky frame. After a moment, his gaze went to Sarai. “He seemed particularly annoyed with you, Mi’Ika.”

“Father, that creature was crazy.”

“He said you were a ‘pretender’. What are you pretending to be that would anger a god?”

Sarai dipped her forehead against the back of Bannor’s neck. He felt her breath against his skin. When she spoke she sounded as tired as Bannor felt. “I don’t think this is a good time to discuss it.”

T’Evagduran frowned. His eyes went to Bannor. “Perhaps you would discuss it?”

He half-smiled. “Dom’Ista, in the summers I’ve known your daughter she’s never pretended once. Loki thinks she’s an imposter because he doesn’t know Sarai like—Ow!” He winced as she pulled on his ear.

“My One, you need to rest,” she said.

“What about Kegari and Tymoril?”

“I’ll look after them.” She led him to a spot, gestured some blankets into existence and set him down on them. She created another and wrapped it around his shoulders. She crouched by him, her voice a whisper for his ears only. “I don’t care where we are, my One. Don’t joke with my father.”

“I wasn’t.”

She put a finger over his lips. She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Grow up darling, you were. Remember, I can read your thoughts.”

He sniffed. “Oh.”

“Father wouldn’t appreciate your humor like I do.”

“He wanted an answer.”

“And you wanted to play a game of double meanings, my One? Not with him, dissembling is an art to one who’s led the court life for two millennia. I know you’re feeling good about dealing with Loki. I’m proud of you. Watch yourself around Father, don’t ruin the good you’ve already done in his eyes.” She kissed him on the nose. “Get your wind back, we may have to fly out of here in a hurry.”

“With what for dragons?”

“I’ll work on that. Father may know some healers in town.” She rose and turned back to the King who was looking at them with folded arms. She went to him, took his arm and led him to the front of the building out of hearing.

Maac came and sat down nearby. “So, how long you been married?”

“We’re not.”

Maac chuckled, as did a few of the other mercenaries. One of the men, a fellow with scarred arms, a pitted face, and a bald pate said, “Friend, I’ve rarely seen a man more married than you.” He looked in the direction of Sarai. “ ‘Course with a woman like that, I can’t see as I would mind.”

“Hey,” one of the other men asked. “What did you do to that Loki that made him bleed?”

Bannor thought about the question for a moment. He had no idea. “Well, I have this ability that lets me grab hold of magic.”

“Yeah? So, what does that do?”

“Well, I’m not very good with it yet, but I can tear off chunks of someone’s magic.”

“And it makes them bleed…” one of the other men said. “Right capital that is. Yer one o them mage killers I heard about.”

“Not precisely.”

“Well, could you tie down one of them ordinary mages?” Maac asked, his wide face intent.

“You mean keep them from using their magic—yes.”

“Close enough fer me,” Maac said. “Yer our mage killer then.”

“Blimes,” said another man. “He be more’n a mage killer. Didja see’m take that fire giant. Took ‘is leg right off he did. Right shiny with them axes.”

“A regular stiletto,” echoed another.

One of the Draconian’s moaned. Bannor went to Tymoril’s side. The green female twisted in the golden reed, her eyelids fluttering. She appeared to be experiencing some form of delirium. Bannor laid a hand across her throat. He jerked his hand back from the scalding heat.

About that moment, Kegari also began to moan and thrash. A quick touch revealed the other dragon also to be burning hot.

“Sarai!” he called out.

“Think her and the boss went outside,” one of the ones closer to the entrance said.

“Better go get them,” he said.

“Maybe jus me eyes, ain’t them two bigger then when ya brought em in?”

“Naw, I think yer right, Grimes,” Maac said. “They is bigger.”

Bannor leaned back. A shudder went through Tymoril’s body and her flesh rippled and swelled. She was definitely getting bigger. The scales on her skin were growing more pronounced and her face had begun to elongate and distort.

They were changing back to their normal forms. Soon, either one of them would be too big to fit in the building. If either of them transformed suddenly they’d all be crushed beneath five thousand stone worth of dragon flesh.

In a hurry, Bannor went to grab Tymoril in order to get her outside. The radiant heat coming off her body seared his hands even through the gauntlets. He couldn’t touch her.

Both dragons shuddered and their size increase now more noticeable than before. The speed of their growth was increasing.

“Guys, we have a big problem.”

I am probably the worst example of a diplomat, but that’s the role I seem to play between Sarai, Janai, and Wren. I especially don’t understand the rivalry between Sarai and Janai. It is little different than the one I experienced as a young teen—but these elves are centuries old! Wren, well, she just brings out the competitiveness in others. Out of that group of people whoever would have guessed I was the level headed one?

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 17
A Dragon Swell

« ^ »

Bannor moved fast. He went to one of the stalls and used the strength in Thor’s gauntlets to snap the heavy rail-board off at the wall. Jerking the plank loose from the mooring post he dropped it next to Tymoril. They might only have moments before the two draconians transformed into hundred-pace long reptiles within the confines of this building. He glanced back. Both magical creatures continued to enlarge. His heart did a double tempo in his chest.

“Maac!” he yelled. “Grab all the wet clothes.”

“Huh?”

“Do it! You.” He pointed to one of the mercenaries. “Get the boss. Now!” The man rushed off.

He turned and broke off three more of the planks, placing them on the floor parallel with the first. Even a few paces away, he felt the heat being radiated by the dragons. Soon they wouldn’t be able to get near the creatures.

“You and you,” he pointed to two of the bigger mercenaries. “Use those wet tunics, protect your hands and help me get them on the wood.”

“Damn, I get it!” Maac rumbled. “Grimes, you and Hedrick!” He tossed some soaked tunics to them.

With the cold wet cloth wrapped around their hands they managed to shift the dragons. The damp fabric sizzled and steam hissed even in the quick contact made to heave them off the smoldering golden-reed and onto the boards.

Tymoril and Kegari’s magical transformation made an eerie bubbling sound, and their flesh pulsated and quivered. As they watched, the female’s features turned more reptilian, their scales growing more pronounced and shiny.

“Quickly. If they change before we get them out of here we’ll be crushed!” Bannor warned. “Two on each board.”

He and Maac gripped one of the boards beneath Kegari, Grimes and Hedrick took the other. “Lift on three. One, two, three!” They levered the slats up.

“Damn, they’re getting hotter!” Grimes said wiping his head.

“Pull,” Maac growled. “Ain’t gonna let this big witch embarrass and smother me!”

Sweat poured off Bannor’s face. The heat from Kegari’s body felt like standing near a smith’s forge. Black spots formed on the wooden planks where the wood had begun smoldering.

Grunting under the growing weight they pulled the swelling dragon toward the entrance. The other four mercenaries had Tymoril moving and were following.

The man they’d sent after T’Evagduran came racing back in. “They ain’t outside. Don’t see em anywhere. You want me to search for them?”

“Do it. Hurry!” The man nodded and took off through the door.

They came to the main doors that Loki had barred. “Maac, I’ll hold it. Get the door open.”

The mercenary let go, heaved the bar off the toggles, and swung the gates open. Outside, it continued to rain, gusts of wind wafting spray against the back of Bannor’s neck. A quick glance toward the forest showed the fire was out. With a heave they towed Kegari out into the deluge.

The rain striking the dragon’s body sounded like water tossed into a hot frying pan. Steam billowed up, droplets popped and sizzled on the surface of her scales. Twenty steps out the door Bannor heard wood snap and saw the other four mercenaries drop Tymoril. The dragon fell two paces inside the doors.

“Damn!” He abandoned Kegari and rushed to help the others. The dragon’s growth had tripled. The men made a couple quick attempts to use the planks to lever her outside before the heat drove them back.

Bannor lunged in depending on the metal mesh of Thor’s gauntlets and the fact he’d been soaked by the rain to protect him. He snatched up Tymoril’s arm and heaved. The wet gauntlets hissed. Heat shot into his hands. He leaned back and put all his strength into digging in and pulling. He dragged half of her body into the rain before the burning made him let go. He didn’t get a second opportunity. Her skin flickered and wings sprouted from her back. Ridges erupted down the length of her spine. In the air around her, Bannor saw threads of magic thicken as if a great influx of power were about to occur.

“Get back!” He gestured the men past him. “Run!”

They all stumbled away as the two dragons appeared to explode. Their green flesh doubled and redoubled in a matter of instants. Bone, sinew, and scale groaned and screeched as tons of tissue mass unfolded and settled.

Twenty paces hadn’t been near far enough. Kegari’s tail and wing collapsed the wall of a barn and shed, shattering fencing and sending livestock squealing and bleating into the storm.

Tymoril, still half in and half out of the barn erupted through the wooden structure, sending a fragments spinning into the sky.

Someone pounded up behind them. “My One, what—oh my—” Sarai skidded to a stop as the roof of the barn teetered off the pinnacle of Tymoril’s dorsal ridges and crashed to the ground. The area once occupied by the barn had been replaced by a steaming dragon.

Hair wet and dangling in her face she gripped his shoulder and stared at the two giant reptiles. “Little late, huh?”

He nodded. “A little.”

Tymoril groaned and shifted. Twenty paces of steel-hard tail whipped around ripping through the front of an outbuilding, scattering the tools and tack stored there. Bannor gritted his teeth.

Sarai winced.

Behind him, he heard the outcry of townsfolk opening doors and shudders to view the source of the noise. He heard the angry and astonished yells of owners of the buildings now reduced to scrap wood.

“What’re we gonna do?” Maac asked, scratching his rain-soaked head. “Ain’t like we can move em now.”

“Biggest damn dragons I ever saw,” Grimes murmured.

“Seen ships smaller’n them two…” Kendrick murmured.

Bannor saw townsfolk heading their way. “Where’s your father?”

Sarai looked around. “He was right behind me … where did he go?”

“I can’t believe this.” Bannor bit off the words. “Maac, you can talk to them, right?”

The big man focused on Bannor, rain running down his face. He swiped at his forehead with a massive hand. “Yer kiddin, right? I can ask em where the privy is, where ta get food, and ‘how much is yer girl?’. That’s ‘bout it.”

“Nice.” Sarai rolled her eyes.

“You’ve been here more than three summers!” He looked down the street to the obviously angry mob coming toward them. This was what he’d hoped to avoid when they started pulling the dragons out of the barn. These people weren’t the enemy. If violence broke out, innocent people might get hurt. They were only defending their property.

Sarai shook her head. “Obviously, they were too busy learning vital phrases like ‘how much is your girl’ to assimilate basic word forms.”

“Never said I was no wunderkind. It’s one-‘o-the reasons we kept boss Haanibal around. He kin figger out a language faster’n I can find North.”

“Take your men and find him.” Bannor paused as the first of villagers started yelling queries at them. He raised his voice to be heard over the local man. “Find him now!” Maac took his men and ran off in search of King T’Evagduran. He turned to the local, who was two and half paces of unhappy rain-soaked brawn.

Bannor raised his hands, signing that they didn’t speak the language. Behind him Kegari rumbled and shifted. The dragon’s huge foreclaw smashed through ten paces of fencing.

The village man gripped his head, yelled something, and pointed at the dragon.

He sighed and looked at Sarai. “Don’t need much translation for that, do I?”

“Understood that fine,” Sarai said. “What idiot put a dragon in my barn?” She paused. “By the way, which idiot’s idea was it?”

“Think it was you, Darling. Something about someplace dry.”

She bit her lip. “Ah yes, right, seemed reasonable at the time.” She looked up to the sky, rain splashing in her face. “Being as how it’s awfully wet out here right now.”

He made placating gestures, swinging his arms, and stopping people who looked as if they might wander near the huge reptiles. Some of the people had pitchforks and other farm implements. He hoped none of these villagers fancied themselves dragon slayers.

He spoke loud enough to be heard over the rabble. “Sarai, where did you and your father go?”

“Just down the street, my One.” She stopped a couple people who looked as though they would approach the dragons. She gestured them back shaking her head ‘no’. She swiped at her rain slicked hair. “Both my presence and my new appearance were a shock to him. Time hasn’t made him anymore accepting of the relationship between you and I.” She turned and grabbed the shirt of a villager who started to walk past them. She pointed at the dragon and drew a finger across her throat. She waved him back. “I’d hoped,” she continued. “That, we would have at least a few moments to ourselves before the next emergency. We’d planned to discus matters while searching out the healer.”

A line of men and women formed, all standing in the rain and gawking at the massive dragons. Keeping the huge people back was easier than Bannor anticipated. They were agitated over the destruction of property, but fortunately, nobody had aspirations of trying to kill the massive reptiles with sticks and stones. Some of the frustrated people trying to get answers from he and Sarai conferred with others in the group. People struck out down the street obviously searching for somebody or something. He guessed to get somebody like the innkeeper with his elf-tongue.

“One of us really needs to look at Kegari and Tymoril. If we could get them to move it would be good.”

“I’ll keep the villagers back,” Sarai said. “You go check on them.”

Bannor stepped back, still hesitant to leave Sarai alone. These people were huge. The smallest of the women nearby were half again her size. Of course, he balanced that with the fact that Sarai could snap the neck of the biggest male present with one punch. He simply didn’t want it to come to that.

Finally turning away, he went to Kegari. The huge reptile lay collapsed in the mud, huge head lolling to one side. The creature’s normally iridescent scales were a flat green color that didn’t appear healthy to Bannor.

As he came close to her snout he heard her irregular breathing. The fins on her head were laid back and twitched. Her shifting eyes made ripples beneath closed lids the size of war shields. She grumbled and her jaws opened, revealing fangs bigger than his arm, a forked tongue pushed out a pace and retracted. Her head shifted and a leg pawed the air.

Bannor paused, overwhelmed by Kegari’s massiveness. He’d grown accustomed to her as a human-like creature with feelings and sense of humor. It was hard to relate that to this titanic monster. If he hadn’t seen the transformation, he wouldn’t have believed the two to be the same entity. He drew a breath a stepped closer.

“Kegari?”

He ran a hand down her snout. The skin felt warm despite the cold rain. Her head twitched, and she made a rumbling sound. Her giant eye nictitated partially revealing a gold orb and black slit pupil. A drumming vibrated her throat. As a dragon, she didn’t have the organs to speak in human language.

She seemed very weak. He remembered seeing something that Idun had done. The goddess had rubbed the dragon’s snout. He remembered she’d done something with threads and energies. It had been a simple redirecting of threads. He found the same energies in the air around him. Basic elemental flows, nothing strong. It seemed a safe enough to manipulate. He mentally wrapped a few of the magic threads around his fingers and rubbed Kegari’s huge nose.

“Kegari? Can you hear me?”

The dragon’s scales glowed where he touched. She made an ululating vibration in her throat, and the fins on her head quivered. Her head rolled toward him. The dragon’s rear legs kicked. The corner of her mouth curved up. Her giant eye opened, this time more focused. The sounds she made changed to a lower pitch and she bumped against him. She pushed her tongue out and snorted.

“Kegari. Can you understand me? Can you move?”

She groaned. Her body shifted and she furled her wings.

Behind him, he heard the outcry of the villagers. He understood their fear. If hadn’t spent some hours in the creature’s presence he’d be more afraid himself. Even injured like this, Kegari could bite him in half with no effort.

The dragon rolled, and managed to get her feet under herself so she was hunched and shivering in the rain. She grunted and poked him with her snout, the fins on her head laid back. She raised her neck and looked around, obviously focusing on Tymoril.

Kegari snorted. She lowered her head and nudged him in the direction of the other dragon.

“You going to be okay?”

The dragon rumbled and nudged him toward Tymoril again. He wasn’t going to argue with a hundred-ton reptile.

He looked to Sarai and waved. She waved back. At least a dozen villagers stared at him as though riveted, their eyes big as gold coins. It did not appear that Maac and the others had found the King yet.

He went to Tymoril, stepping around debris and taking care not to slip in the mud, noting that she must be at least another quarter larger than Kegari. Her scales possessed that same flat green color suggesting the dragon wasn’t well. She moaned and twitched, obviously in the same fitful unconsciousness that Kegari had been in. He spoke in low tones, and used the same trick with the threads of energy.

Tymoril responded more energetically than Kegari had. Her nose came up under him, forcing him to hang on as her head jerked side-to-side. He heard some of the villagers let out cries as Tymoril’s thrashing carried him several paces into the air.

He raised his voice to get her attention, but she didn’t appear to hear. Unsure of what else to do, he pulled on more of the same threads and increased the flow of power hoping to awaken her.

Tymoril’s wings twitched and her tail lashed. She groaned and her eyes nictitated. Her tongue pushed out, testing the air. She grumbled and her body shifted. Portions of the demolished building crunched under her claws. She furled her wings and for the first time she seemed to realize he was lying on her nose.

“Tymoril, it’s me!”

The dragon’s huge eyes narrowed and she snorted. She lowered her head and let him get off onto the ground.

“You okay?” he asked.

She made a rumbling sound and butted him with her snout. The force was considerable and knocked him back several steps.

“Ow! What’s wrong?”

She gnashed her teeth. She looked around and focused on Kegari. She made a booming sound. The other dragon made a similar noise, head bobbing. Tymoril snorted again, making a vibration like rocks being ground together.

Her head came down and she shoved him hard with her nose.

“Hey!” She shoved him again, not being particularly gentle. “Ow!” She was agitated about something and clearly was pushing him toward the crowd.

He went where pushed. “Damn, she’s mad about something,” he said to Sarai, as he walked up. The crowd of men and women retreated a few steps, all looking at him with amazed expressions.

Sarai nodded. She put an arm around him and pushed a few strands of his wet hair back onto his head. “You know it’s not very polite to tickle a woman’s fancy uninvited. Especially with a crowd around.”

He blinked, hoping she was teasing. “Sarai … are you saying I…? Wait, if you knew, why didn’t you say something!”

She shrugged. “It was working. Better that than startling them.”

“Tickling…” He looked back at the two dragons. Both of the giant creatures stared at him. He felt heat in his face. “I didn’t know that’s what that was … I mean you know I wouldn’t…” He looked directly at Tymoril. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know that’s what I was doing!”

The dragon snorted, the green scales of her face darkened. She made a grunting sound and looked away. Kegari made that low pulsation that he’d come to identify with chuckling. She raised her head and directed some sounds a Tymoril. The other dragon snorted and her tail lashed.

Sarai grinned. “You do have a way with women, Bannor.”

His face grew hotter. “But not with green scaly ones!”

She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a coy look. “Guess it demonstrates the measure of your talent, my One. I know I sure enjoy it.”

Maac’s voice boomed from behind the crowd. “We found Haanibal, but you’ll have to come to him.” They saw the big mercenary gesturing to them.

“Wonder what’s the matter,” Sarai said.

Bannor shook his head and called out. “Are you two going to be all right?” Kegari rumbled, her head bobbing up and down.

“Hope they don’t eat anybody,” Sarai muttered as they started after Maac.

The mercenary led them a few houses down the street and up an alley. He knocked on a door and gestured them into a smaller residence.

The interior of the building flickered with the light of candles. It was a single room partitioned off with hide curtains. Mats had been laid on the floor and gathering of five people knelt around a prostrate woman. The big lady’s face was flush and dark circles hung under her eyes from apparent lack of sleep, she was smiling though and appeared to be happy about something. A man, likely her mate was holding her hands. Two other women, one who looked enough like her to be her mother, and another woman who wore scarf trimmed in gold thread with runes stitched in it reminded Bannor of a medicine lady. The last, was King T’Evagduran who was cradling something in his arms.

As they approached he looked up at them and smiled. Bannor then recognized what the elder Elf held—a newborn baby, its red wrinkled face set in a grimace, tiny arms waving without focus.

“Apologies, Mi’Ika,” he said. “The healer grabbed me at the last moment to help. Something about wood spirits and luck.” He shook his head. “Perhaps there is something to it. She had been in labor nearly a day. The infant came free right after I walked in.”

The woman that Bannor identified as the medicine lady pointed to Sarai, said something and grinned. The King smiled and replied in the language of the town. He looked to Sarai. “The healer says your coming is an omen. That you will be blessed with a child soon.” He looked at the infant, toying with one of its miniature hands. He grinned. “I have wanted to be a grandfather for more than a century.”

Sarai knelt by the baby, scrutinizing it with what Bannor found to be unusual intensity. She glanced to Bannor, then to T’Evagduran. Her violet eyes gleamed. “Father, you just never know what the future has in store.”

One day Wren overheard me asking myself ‘why’ all the unhappy things had been happening to me. Hands on hips, a grin on her face, she told me that it was because she couldn’t keep the bad luck all to herself…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 18
A Draconic Affliction

« ^ »

Bannor walked down the street with his arm around Sarai. The rain now came down as only a cool misting. The pungent smell of churned soil and burned wood lingered in the air. The wind rustled in the eves at a fraction of its former strength. The storm clouds had boiled their way east and the brilliant blue of the sky was beginning to peek through. In ones and twos, villagers were venturing out of their houses to take stock of the damage.

T’Evagduran walked with Maac and two of the other mercenaries. The Elven king appeared preoccupied. He moved with a stiff gait, arms behind his back skirting mud puddles with jerky steps.

Bannor felt distracted to. He flashed on moments ago as he watched Sarai cradle the villager’s newborn in her arms. The look in her eyes and the set of her body told him Sarai had made up her mind. She wanted a child and planned to have one. Her humming confirmed it for him. King T’Evagduran had looked at her holding the baby and the expression on his face was both pride and longing. It was clear the ruler wanted grandchildren. Children were rare for gray-elves. Sarai’s mother Kalindinai was renowned as one of the most vital Malanian queens ever. She’d produced three healthy children.

Sarai’s plans to become a mother took Bannor by surprise, especially considering their current circumstances. She didn’t give voice to her decision, but the look in her eyes, and the tone in her voice as she described the child made him almost certain. Perhaps she was thinking toward when they had freed their family from Niflheim and managed to survive Odin’s rebuke. Children? He hadn’t yet grown accustomed to the idea of being married to a princess of Malan. For that matter, they weren’t even wed. Of course, in every aspect save performing the legal and spiritual rituals, they had been wedded for some time.

“What’s the matter, my One?” Sarai asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I guess I’m still a little dazed from what happened with the dragons.”

“Uh hmmm,” she hummed. She dipped her head to get a better look at his face. Her violet eyes gleamed and her smile sparkled. “Didn’t you think that baby was cute?”

“Cute?” He repeated the word dumbfounded. He couldn’t put proper words to describing the wriggling noisy wrinkled red newborn. However, ‘cute’ wasn’t one of the words that came to mind. If he spoke his mind on that she’d just clout him for being insensitive. He picked a safe word. “It was impressive.”

“Impressive?” Her brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know—uh, memorable…” Her flat expression told him he wasn’t getting anywhere. “Momentus! Yes, that’s it!” He grinned at her, to cover up how stupid he felt. He knew nothing about babies, and certainly didn’t see the attraction. After all, the only things they seemed to be good for were sleepless nights and dirty diapers.

“Bannor…” Her voice dropped, she folded her arms and frowned. “That’s not what you think.”

Uh oh. His fake smile melted. “Well…” He started, then stopped himself, looking into her intense eyes. It was obviously more important to her than he realized. “I don’t know!” He finally let out. “It—I—what do I know about children anyway? Besides, shouldn’t we be focusing on our mission? We’re going to the land of the dead!”

“And it makes me grim to think of it,” she replied, pushing a hand through her silvery hair. “I don’t have to ponder it every instant to stay focused. It helps to look forward to what we’ll do after it’s all over.”

His voice sounded more flat than he would have liked. “I wish I could be as positive as you.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “You will be. You simply need more practice.”

“For me to get any practice, we’ll have to win a few more fights.”

“We will. I’m feeling good, my One. Father is here to help us. The dragons are okay. We avoided Odin’s warriors and beat the giants. We even dodged Loki. Things are going our way.”

He looked into her smiling face. It was hard not to smile back. “I suppose things do look brighter viewed like that.”

“Definitely.” She looked to the King who still appeared absorbed in his thoughts. “Are you all right, Father? You haven’t said anything.”

T’Evagduran looked over. “What? Oh, apologies, Mi’Ika, I am still somewhat shaken by these events. The fight with the giants, my finding you, encountering Loki, and discovering that Kalindinai and Janai are trapped in Niflheim. It is a great deal to take in all at once. The infant simply started me thinking about my children. How I nearly lost one daughter, and may have lost another.” He looked down for a moment then back to her. “If you had died we would have parted with me not have really spoken with you in over a century. I talked to you about my expectations and desires, but didn’t heed what you wanted and needed.”

Sarai raised an eyebrow. She glanced at Bannor and her fingers sought his hand. “I’m sorry we fought, Father. I know my way wasn’t right either.”

The King nodded. He let out a breath. “You know I’m still not sure about…” He focused his amber eyes on Bannor.

“His name is Bannor, Father,” she said.

“I know what his name is,” the King growled. The sound died in his throat as he froze in place, eyes going wide as he looked up to the site of the barn they left only half a bell ago. “Carellion! They are enormous!”

Bannor looked to where T’Evagduran was staring. The dragons filled a significant portion of the village in that direction. A modest sized audience still stood around Tymoril and Kegari looking on with awed and curious expressions. It appeared the townsfolk rather than trying to kill the two giant creatures had been trying to placate them. Tymoril was masticating a goat that must have been pushed her way. Based on the bloody scraps near the reptiles, Bannor guessed that several had been fed to the dragons. They certainly weren’t complaining. Food looked to be what they needed. Already some of the color had returned to their scales. If they really needed to eat though, a few goats wouldn’t suffice. Where could they find something big enough to satisfy the appetites of these hundred ton behemoths?

The sound of crunching bones made Bannor’s skin prickle. Big. It would need to be the size of a broadpaw or bigger. The dragons didn’t appear to be in any condition to hunt, so it would have to be something that they could go to or have brought to them.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Sarai asked her Father. “That one is Tymoril.” She pointed. “She and I had a disagreement where she tried to bite me. Since then we’ve gotten along fine.”

The King’s eyes were wide. “However did you…?”

“I clouted her on the nose. I’m stronger than I look.”

Tymoril stopped chewing and snorted. The creature’s gaze drifted from Sarai to Bannor. He felt her gold eyes bore into him. When he’d wakened her with his magic, Tymoril had obviously been irritated with him. Now, he couldn’t be sure what she was feeling. He hoped the creature wouldn’t stay angry at him.

Anger. The fire giants were the ones they really owed a payback. Payback—that was the key to how they could feed them. “You two still hungry?” He called out, walking up to the dragons. “I think I know where you should be able to get a lot of fresh meat.”

It was clear that Tymoril and Kegari found the choice of faire to be distasteful. It was also apparent that their transformation had made them hungry. Bannor figured dead fire giants certainly weren’t good for much else.

Townsfolk stared from windows and alleys, lined up to watch the procession of the mercenary group and the two dragons as they headed to the edge of town. The massive creatures made the ground rumble with each step. The air trembled when their wings shifted.

Out past the rocks, the group stopped and allowed the dragons to go the rest of the way. Bannor wasn’t eager to observe feasting dragons up close.

Tymoril hesitated, staring at the downed giants. Her nostrils dilated and the ridges on her back rippled. Finally, hunger must have won out because she ripped into the carcass with a snarl. A couple of the mercenaries intent on the activity quickly focused their attention elsewhere after the first spurts of blood and shattering bone. Kegari held back, fins on her head twitching, tail whipping in agitation. After a long hesitation, she dove on the kill as well.

Bannor looked away. Though the fire giant was a monster and already dead, it still looked vaguely human, and the sight of the dragons ripping into the corpses was unsettling.

He looked away to find Sarai, the King and Maac looking at him. It was obvious they were also trying not to look toward the source of the rending and gulping sounds. The rank smell that drifted their direction made Bannor’s stomach twist.

T’Evagduran drew a breath. “How far is Niflheim from here?”

“Another four hundred leagues south,” Sarai said. “When they’re healthy,” she nodded toward the dragons. “They can do a hundred leagues a day.”

“You were planning to go into Niflheim with only the two of you?”

“Idun said we would find servants of hers that would help us along the way. Then we discovered we couldn’t speak the language,” Bannor reported. “An interesting oversight, she must have figured we already had an elf-tongue to translate for us.”

The King gave him a perplexed look.

“Nevermind, Father,” Sarai grumbled. “You had to have been there.”

“If it’s four hunnert leagues,” Maac rumbled. He scratched his head, running broad fingers through short curly hair. “We ain’t gonna be able to help out. Don’t think any ‘o us cotton much to flyin neither.”

Bannor nodded. He understood the sentiment.

“I speak the language obviously,” the King said. “Even if we do find these allies. We couldn’t bring them with us any more easily than we can Maac and the others.” He looked askance at the gargantuan mercenary. “I know one thing, if you don’t figure out a way to come along. I can’t pay you.”

“Hey, now! Where’s the fair in that?”

The King shrugged.

“Even if we get to Mother and the others without assistance, we’ll still need help,” Sarai said. Her gaze briefly went to the dragons at the sound of a particularly loud crunching. “Idun gave us some side tasks that we agreed to perform in order to get certain favors from her.”

T’Evagduran narrowed his eyes. “Favors?”

Sarai drew a breath. “You noticed I changed.”

The King nodded.

“You probably don’t realize how much I’ve changed.”

“You’re taller and more shapely. There is an extra glow about you…” He eyed her. “You had developed strong magic when I saw you last. So, what else is different?”

Sarai swallowed. “Father, remember when you said that you almost lost me?”

Bannor put a hand on her arm. Why did she feel she had to tell this now? Couldn’t it wait? Things were confusing enough for the Elven leader. Sarai looked to him and put her hand in his.

The King kept a level gaze on her, not saying anything.

The words came out in a rush. “You did lose me. Hecate captured me in order to coerce Bannor. She—she took over my body.” She swallowed. “In order to kill Hecate…” Sarai paused.

Bannor’s skin prickled and his heart skipped a beat. Would she say it?

“Bannor had to kill both of us.”

Hearing the words and the tone made Bannor shiver inside. It brought that terrible memory back. He pushed it away. Even now it seemed surreal, the agony of making that decision would haunt him for the rest of his life. There had been no other way. At least, that’s what he told himself. It was that tiny shred of doubt that worried at his mind like a painful splinter every time his thoughts flickered over that moment in time.

T’Evagduran blinked. “I don’t understand. If he killed you then…?”

Sarai reached up with her thumb to touch the spot between her breasts where she concealed the flux stone in her body. She closed her eyes and her body shimmered. A static crackling sound snapped in the air around her, and her skin rippled and darkened. Her hair lengthened taking on a red hue. Sarai’s violet eyes grew pale and turned the color of amber. She dwindled in size, becoming more stocky with broad hips and a copious bosom.

“Whoa!” Maac murmured, eyes wide.

“Meliandri!?” The King gasped. “But… You’re Sarai, you know things only she would know.”

She nodded. “I wasn’t Hecate’s only victim. She took Mel’s spirit long before she attacked us. She forced Mel to attack Bannor, and he … disconnected her. She died. This body had no spirit. Somehow when I died, my spirit was captured and placed within this shell.”

T’Evagduran gripped his face and stared at her. Bannor could see the Elven ruler was actually trembling. “Does your mother know …???”

Sarai nodded slowly. “She was devastated. She kept holding out that we’d find a way to heal Meliandri.”

The King closed his eyes. “Oh my. What were you planning to tell her? That Meliandri was gone and couldn’t be found?”

“I hadn’t figured out what I would tell her. I just decided to tell you.”

“Fine timing it is to. Give an old elf gray hair with tales like that. What is the family to do!?”

Sarai looked at him with wide amber eyes. “You are the wise one.” She sighed. Closing her eyes, she shimmered, her flesh rippled and stretched and she became her taller more slender self. “I just was busting inside. I didn’t want you to sense it and have to ask me.”

Face composed, he shook his head. “My brains are addled.” He held out his arms. “Come here.”

Sarai hesitated.

He gestured, his voice hardened. “Come.”

She moved toward him. T’Evagduran folded her in his arms. “Carellion, I missed you. I’m glad to still have my daughter.”

Her hands were trembling as she hugged him back.

Bannor’s own stomach felt tight. It made him realize how much he missed having a family. It had been so long. When he and his brother Ramm left to be a part of the war, he imagined many things happening before they returned. He never dreamed his father would blame him for Ramm’s death, or make him unwelcome in the home where he was raised.

Bannor felt itchy. The sounds behind them must have been stopped for a while. He looked back and noticed that the dragons were watching them in silence, golden eyes unblinking, fins on their heads erect.

Little remained of the three fire giants that had been lying in the field. The dragons had consumed everything but the largest bones. They had been hungry indeed. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been risking when he stepped close to them. They appeared sated now, their sides bloated with excess.

He moved toward Kegari, keeping an eye on Tymoril. The dragon lowered her massive head as he approached. He stopped close by. “You going to be okay?” he asked.

The corner of her mouth twisted up. She made a thrumming sound and nodded. She brushed against him with her snout. The smell of her breath left a great deal to be desired, but he contained himself.

“One thing,” he lowered his voice. “Is Tymoril upset with me? I didn’t know what I was doing.”

The ridges over Kegari’s huge eyes rose. She bared pace long fangs in a grin that would make the bravest knight shudder and made that ululation deep in her chest that he’d come to associate with chuckling.

Tymoril’s head came up. She glared in his direction and looked away.

Kegari turned her serpentine head to look at him sideways. She raised and lowered the ridges over her eyes still grinning draconically.

“Sure, to you it’s funny, she can’t accidentally step on you.” The dragon seemed to sober at that. She bumped against him. “How come you’re not mad? Not that I want you to be.”

She made a clunking sound similar to wood blocks knocking together. Her wings partially unfurled then furled again. His sense was that she’d given the dragon equivalent of a shrug.

Sarai and her father walked up next to him.

“Is she going to be able fly?” Sarai asked.

He looked at the massive creature and the color of her scales. “Not right away. Not that I know the first thing about dragons, but my guess is at least a night of rest before they’ll be ready to get airborne.” He looked to Kegari.

The dragon nodded and made some clicking and thumping noises.

“She says we can still make fair time on the ground.”

The King sighed. “There is one question.”

Sarai looked to him.

“You are trying to avoid detection by the Ajeer are you not?”

She nodded.

“We’ll if they can’t fly, I’m betting they can’t transform themselves either. How do you intend to conceal a couple of town-sized dragons?”

Did it matter to me that my son-in-law was a low-born human? Yes, at first I thought it was the worst of Sarai’s defiances, and a deliberate attempt to embarrass the family. Then I saw the boy fight, and his total dedication to protecting my daughter. He would give his soul to her if she asked, which she did, and he did. I would have preferred a more qualified suitor, but I can think of none who would make my daughter as happy.

—Jhaan T’Evagduran

King of Malan

Chapter 19
Homesick, the Struggle South

« ^ »

Riding northward on horseback, Bannor gazed up into the sapphire sky. He felt more at ease now. Accustomed to long treks, the ache of all day in the saddle, the scent of horses and trail dust, the sensations of wind and heat on his face were all familiar anchors in this alien land ruled by gods. He needed anchors to cope. Simply looking into the sky revealed the foreign nature of this common appearing setting. Overhead, clouds tufts were like white streaks of painter’s brush across of dazzling backdrop of iridescent blue. The first thing one noticed was the striking contrast between the clouds and the dome of the heavens above. Then you noticed something else, something missing. How could daylight exist without a sun? Here, stars appeared in the night sky backlit by dazzling wisps of red, violet, and blue. In the morning, the horizon brightened in gradients of white, yellow, and orange as if to herald a sunrise, but the familiar circle of illumination never appeared. So strange. He could only attribute it all to the will of gods.

Feeling the ground shake, he looked off to the east. Tymoril and Kegari thundered along far enough away to keep from spooking the horses. Their drooping necks and dragging tails told him the giant creatures were getting tired. The dragon’s tremendous mass ill suited them for extended jaunts on the ground. In spurts, they could lash forward with blinding speed, covering two hundred paces in the space of dozen heartbeats. On the long haul, their frequent stops and plodding pace had brought the procession to a crawl. He hoped to be in the air by now. Unfortunately, the dragon’s recovery hadn’t proceeded as expected. It might be days before they again took to the skies.

As he watched the two struggling behemoths, it reminded him of something a general told him as a young soldier. “Son,” the balding scar-faced man had asked. “Do you know where a dragon sleeps?” Wide-eyed and fourteen summers old, Bannor remembered shaking his head, figuring that master of the army would have something memorable to say on the subject. The general had grinned at him. “Anywhere it wants to.”

He remembered his chagrin at the general’s answer. It wouldn’t be until summers later that he understood that the general was speaking in metaphors. The ‘dragon’ was the body of a conquering army. Sleeping had to do with the invading soldiers bivouacking on the tilled land and in the homes of the settlements they captured. The Southern hosts, of whom Bannor was a part, were in retreat at the time. The Northlander army was pressing toward the Southern capital, securing a league of territory a day. Shortly after the general asked him the question about sleeping dragons, Bannor’s unit received orders to start burning villages to cover their retreat. He hadn’t understood the whys of what they did. He only knew it made him sick. It was bad enough the enemy wanted to kill them, and had killed his brother. Now, they were forced to kill their own people and destroy fertile land in order to prevent their utilization by the Northern regiments. Even a decade later, he would think of the bloody work and shudder. No one should have been required to do it, much less a boy who hadn’t yet lifted a razor to shave.

He watched as a couple of the mercenary outriders circled back to the head of the procession and conferred with King T’Evagduran. Their first two days on the trail, the King appeared in good spirits, happy to be with his daughter, and focused on the task of rescuing his wife and daughter from the land of the dead. This morning, he turned moody and irritable. He rebuffed all of Sarai’s attempts to discover what was bothering him.

When they hit the trail, T’Evagduran pushed ahead of the group, warning off every attempt at conversation with a snarl. He kept the mercenaries organized and scheduled patrols, but kept his communications terse and formal. He rode with his back stiff and shoulders rigid. With a posture that unyielding, the Elven leader would regret this day. His back would be a wreck in the morning.

Bannor looked along the path behind them. He kept expecting to see Odin’s Ajeer warriors. So far, no one had found signs of any pursuit. His concerns at being overtaken or waylaid, had taken him on several scouting expeditions. His ‘before noon’ range to the West took him to the summit of a headland that gave him a scope of the terrain a few leagues ahead.

What he observed didn’t bode well. Heading south, the land sloped down into fens. Watershed from a series of peaks to the east dumped down into the lowlands ahead. Deposited by storm floods, tracts of sun blistered mud and silt spilled through a maze of washes, boulder falls, and gullies choked with brambles and tangle-weed. Stagnant pools of water festered with swarms of blight-bugs.

He hated flying, but he would rather fly than toil through that hazard-infested morass of foot and hoof torment. During one of the major offensives, Bannor’s platoon was ordered to eliminate several Northlander brigades that had entrenched themselves in the Tenax swamp. The veteran soldier in his unit had cursed and muttered about ‘bug hunts’. After a tenday of dodging hungry waterfangs, of festering wounds, foot rot and blood-sucking insects, he understood the older man’s sentiments. They skirmished across that forsaken bog for the better part of a season. The experience indelibly marked him with a legacy of leg scars, damaged joints, and reoccurring foot scourge.

“Silver for your thoughts, my One,” Sarai said, pulling her mount close to his. “You haven’t said anything for almost a league. Is something troubling you? Don’t tell me you’re going to get like Father.”

He looked over at her and forced a smile. “No, I’m not feeling that bad. I was considering the obstacles ahead.”

Violet eyes gleaming, she pushed a hand through her silvery hair. She was wearing an ornamental platinum ring he’d never seen before. The large clear jewel flashed as it caught the light. For today, she’d created different clothing; a bright red tabard over a black leather tunic and riding breeches. “A great commander once told me such things are challenges, my One, not obstacles.”

He frowned. “Which commander was that?”

“That one,” Sarai pointed to the silver-haired figure leading the procession of horses. “He’s seen a difficulty or two. I imagine he has the right of things.”

He looked into her smiling face and nodded. “He doesn’t appear to be in tune with his own advice at the moment.”

She sighed. “You’re right in that. I can’t think what might be bothering him. We awoke and started straightening camp, I recall mentioning—” She rubbed the back of her neck, shifting in the saddle and throwing another loop of the reins around her fist. “What did I say?” She pursed her lips. “I had said, that I thought my sister Ryelle’s birthday would be soon. He said that he had a fair sense for such things, and that it still lay over a fortnight away. He seemed to reflect for a moment, then an angry look came on his face and he stalked off.”

Bannor reined the horse around some rocks in the trail. Skirting the brush and picking down the incline. As they neared the bottom he looked back to her. “It might simply be he’s felt the realization of what’s at stake. When Hecate threatened to kill everyone in Sharikaar until I turned myself over, it was days before I accepted it. This is a time when your family should be together in celebration. Instead you’re all scattered and in pain.” He looked into Sarai’s eyes. “Who wouldn’t be upset by that?”

“I agree. I think it’s more than that though. Until now, he’s thought us all dead. To find me alive, and there be a good chance that Mother and Janai are alive is good news.” She drew a breath. “Perhaps he’s just pining for Mother. I know I miss Ryelle. Janai and I, we always fought. Ryelle protected me. She made things better when Mother was being—well—Mother.”

He put his heels to the horse. It clomped and snorted as he guided it through a narrow opening between some prickletrees. The path made by centuries of the nightly trips of the area’s blackhorn into the lower canyons stair-stepped down the ridge in a series of rock strewn switchbacks. The worst of the fens still lay some distance off, but the terrain was already getting rougher. East of them, he watched the dragons open their wings and glide off the massif toward the wrinkled brown mat of the flood plane below. For their tired bodies, the opportunity to coast must have been bliss.

When negotiating the trail grew easier, he spoke over his shoulder to Sarai. “Before we started down I was going to say that, to me, Kalindinai seems to care for you a great deal. She’s courageous and forthright.” He paused. “She can be a little domineering … but her passion for her family is obvious.”

Sarai started to speak but stopped when she was forced to guide her abruptly jittery horse around some washed out sections in the trail. She reined her mount closer to his. “My One, she’s more than a little domineering. Mother loves me, but she has this intense need to control things; her children in particular. Everything from the clothes I wore, to the food I ate. It was so frustrating. Sometimes I just wanted to scream. I ran away more than once. Ryelle would find me and calm me down. Then she would smooth it out with Mother. I’ve never had that kind of rapport with her. Ryelle can talk Mother into anything.”

“That’s usually a privilege reserved for the youngest,” Bannor said, smiling.

“Not in my family.” She paused her horse on the trail and pointed. “What’s that?”

He looked where she indicated. It looked like two large black spots in the sky. As they grew nearer Bannor realized they were simply larger versions of the cursefeathers that farmers constantly guarded against. The two avians made cawing sounds as they flew overhead. They circled around the cliff edge a few times before flapping off to the East.

Bannor shrugged. “At least, they didn’t attack.”

Sarai frowned, and nudged her mount down the trail. “What are crop killers like those doing way out here? Especially ones that big.”

He looked in the direction of the dwindling dots. “Even birds get lost I imagine.”

“Yes…” Sarai’s voice trailed off, her gaze tracing their path for a moment. She appeared to push it from her mind. “Anyway, I’m getting back to see Ryelle, damn it. I may not make this birthday, but mark me, I won’t miss the next one.” They reached a wider portion of a curve in the path, and she pulled up beside him. She glanced at him sidelong and held out the hand with ring on it and wiggled her finger. “What better place to show off my new husband than at my older unmarried sister’s party?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nice ring. Who is he?”

She grinned at him. “A ranger captain from down south, a handsome woodsy fellow, bit coarse in the social graces…” Her eyes sparkled. “But he’s a marvelous lover.”

Bannor felt a little warmth in his cheeks. “He’s a lucky man. He must be pretty wealthy to afford a ring like that.”

She looked down at her hand and raised her chin. “No expense was spared,” she said with a haughty sounding tone.

“Let’s hope his life gets spared. Has T’Evagduran seen you wear that?”

“No.”

“You know, even ten summers of my wages couldn’t buy something like that.”

“You’d get it for me if you could afford it.”

“Of course.”

“That’s what matters to me.”

“I know, but now that I know you’re a princess. I’ve been feeling—guilty—having made you live as we did. It must have been a hardship to slum with me after growing up with the amenities of the High Seat of Malan.”

She made a dismissing gesture. “Bannor, I won’t lie and say material things don’t matter. I have a fine eye for what I like.” She held the ring up so it flashed in the light. “Amenities lose their lustre after a century. Some things can make you happy enough to overlook the lack of a few conveniences. You were worth waiting for, and I knew the cabin wasn’t forever. Hopefully, you can endure the hardships of being cooped up with me in my suites in the River Wing.”

“Cooped up? I bet your bedchamber is bigger than our whole house was! Whatever would we do bouncing around in all that space?”

Sarai laughed. “My One, that house would fit in my linen closet. Trust me, there’ll be plenty to keep us occupied.”

“Yes, I’ll probably be so busy dodging your father’s headsman I won’t even notice.”

“Oh, he’s over that. He’ll get used to you.” She grinned at him. “He doesn’t have a choice.”

Bannor rolled his eyes. “Star, I love you and I trust you. I just hope you know what you’re doing. I think we’re both going to feel bad when the guards deliver you a basket with my head in it.”

She gasped. “Bannor! What a grim thing to say! Father would never do that—well, at least not with Mother around.” She looked at him askance.

He shuddered. Sometimes he wondered about her sense of humor. “You know, right now the only thing I want to worry about is getting the family back together. We can worry about keeping it together later. All I can think about is what’s in front of us and what’s behind us.” He indicated the terrain below. “The path ahead is nightmare, and Odin’s hounds can strike any moment. I don’t know why they haven’t found us already. We’re leaving a trail big enough for a blind man to follow.”

Sarai turned in the saddle a fixed him with a stern gaze. “Bannor, we will get through it. We have to keep ourselves up for the challenge. You’re wearing yourself down with thoughts like that. You’ll be dead before the enemy confronts you.” She sniffed and gave him a half smile. “Cheer up. That’s an order.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m just not the kind of warrior who goes into battle with a melody in my heart and a song on my lips. That’s more Laramis’ style.”

She leaned out of her saddle to touch his arm. “Bannor, my love, I hope we spend enough time together for me to teach you. Every day of our lives needs to be lived with a melody in our hearts, not just the good times. It braces us against despair when things look bleak. The battle is never lost until we give up.”

Bannor shook his head. “It’s a grand sentiment. It’s much easier to agree with than to put into practice.”

Sarai reached out, grabbed his arm, and half pulled him from the saddle. She pressed her lips to his. His face grew hot and he tingled all over. She pushed him back into his saddle.

“How’s that melody in your heart now? Better?”

He blinked, and let out a breath. “I—I guess I stand corrected. I could practice that all day.”

“I plan to make it a point to do exactly that after our business is concluded.” She grinned. Her smiled faded somewhat and she rose in her stirrups to look toward down the hill to where the King and the other mercenaries had already reached the bottom. King T’Evagduran had pulled off the trail and was staring off toward the mountains.

“He looks really preoccupied,” Bannor said.

“I wish I knew for certain what was bothering him.”

“Well, you said it started when you mentioned Ryelle’s birthday. I mean would that be so special? It’s not like she hasn’t had a thousand other ones.”

Sarai rocked her head back. “That’s it! You were part right. She hasn’t had a thousand other ones. This one is to be her nine hundred and ninety-ninth birthday. More significant is what comes eight days before her celebration.”

“What’s that?”

“Father’s anniversary. This will be the one millenium celebration of his marriage to Mother. In all the years they’ve been married, he’s never forgotten. They’ve always done something special on their centennials. He and Mother had planned something really special for their thousandth. It’s a rare event, even for Elves.” She sighed. “That must be it. He hates any kind of change. The idea that they’ll miss their thousandth must have been a terrible reminder of how bad things are.”

“It’d make me grouchy too,” Bannor said frowning. “I don’t like being apart from you for more than a few days. It made me crazy when I knew you were in danger. I know I would feel worse than miserable with my whole family in jeopardy.” He rubbed his face. “It does make me—gloomy. Thinking of your mother, Wren, Laramis, Irodee, Euriel all trapped and enduring whatever it is they do to prisoners there.”

“Well, focus on happy they’ll be when we break them out.” She glanced down the hill. “Father looks really agitated about something now.”

Bannor looked back. The Elven leader pressed his hands to his face, then rocked his head back as though in pain. He gestured to a couple of the mercenaries. He snapped some orders, and they rode off at a gallop.

It took the space of a few long breaths to pick the rest of the way down the hill and over to where T’Evagduran was obviously waiting for them.

They reined in on either side of the pale-haired King. The Elven leader glanced at Bannor with narrowed amber eyes, then focused on Sarai. His voice had a sharp clipped quality to it. “Did you see them?” he asked.

Sarai frowned. “See what?”

T’Evagduran’s features darkened. “Huginn and Munnin.”

What in Hades was he talking about? Perhaps he was more than simply upset. Maybe his mind had snapped in someway, or he’d come under the influence of some spell.

He was about to express some doubts but Sarai beat him to it. “Father, what are you—”

As she was speaking, he abruptly realized what the King must be referring to. “The birds?”

The King snorted. “Aye. The birds.”

Sarai put hands on hips. “So?”

T’Evagduran shook his head. “Huginn and Munnin aren’t just birds, Mi’Ika.” He looked off in the direction the two animals disappeared.

“They are Odin’s eyes.”

Somebody asked me that since I hated nearly everything about being soldier, why did I continue a career as a fighting man. I told them that just because I hated fighting and war didn’t mean the world had run out of people who needed protecting. I despise killing but sometimes the evil of the Ring Realms will accept nothing less. I am a warrior because I know nothing else, and the truth I have come to accept is that my heart is that of a man who fights for causes…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 20
Odin’s Eyes

« ^ »

Odin’s eyes; the words sent a jolt through Bannor. When T’Evagduran spoke the names of Huginn and Munnin, he should have recognized them. A score of summers ago, he sat at his mother’s knee and listening to her tell the epics of the Vanir and Aesir. Huginn and Munnin were names that meant ‘mind’ and ‘memory’ in the old tongue. He wished now that he’d been more attentive to her lessons concerning the faith of Odin. His father told him all a man needed to know were the proper rites of observance and a few battlefield adjurations. Now in Gladshiem at the feet of the gods, that simply wasn’t enough.

He drew a breath, smelling the acrid bite of the fens on the wind. His gaze met Sarai’s. They’d both been staring at the King as he told them of their visitation by Odin’s spies. His mate’s eyes narrowed and her fist tightened on the reins. Face turning stony, she looked in the direction that the two huge cursefeathers disappeared.

“Father,” she asked in a tentative voice. “You’re sure?”

“Daughter, I’m certain.” T’Evagduran’s voice rang like a hammer on an anvil. He gritted his teeth and shook his head, silver hair falling down across his face. He reached into his saddlebags and pulled out the hardened leather “archer” gloves, and slid them on. He adjusted the fit, wiggling his fingers in the open fingered arrangement. “We’ll have enemies in our midst in less than a bell.” His eyes narrowed. “I’d stake my kingdom on it.”

Sarai frowned. T’Evagduran was not the type to be an alarmist. She swung around and eyed the ragged terrain south of them. Eons of watershed from the peaks to the east created a scarred landscape of jagged ridges, erosion gullies, boulder falls, and tangle weed. Slimed over with flood silt and debris, the rocky fen would be impossible to negotiate at anything better than a crawl. “Bannor, remember a little bit ago when I was chiding you for worrying?”

“Uh hmmm.”

“Some day I’ll learn to shut my mouth. The dragons can’t get through that.”

“Assuredly, not in the time that we’ll be afforded,” T’Evagduran confirmed. “However, the creatures are too powerful an asset to be abandoned.”

“This is bad,” Bannor said. “The crevices are more hindrance than help. The ravines limit mobility, and the horses can’t climb those steep walls mounted.”

The Elf king shielded his eyes and looked into the broken maze of gullies. He pulled the huge black shadowspar longbow out of its sheath on the saddle and sighted through the tube above the arrow notch, panning it across their view. “Indeed, the space is too tight for maneuvering. Best to entrench.” He put the bow in his lap and gestured to the cliffs along the foot of the mountain. “Given that, I favor putting our backs to the ridge.”

Bannor looked where the King had pointed. “Let’s make for that place where the two spurs extend to the West. We’ll have defenses on three sides.”

T’Evagduran’s brow furrowed. He laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. “A serious press to drive that far in such foot slog.” He looked to the sky, then checked the arrows in the quivers on his saddle. “Worth a go of it. I shall signal the men and rejoin you at that southern scarp. Take the dragons ahead. The horses will panic if they come up behind.”

“Done.” Bannor tossed the reins to the King and jumped to the ground. His throat felt tight and his stomach had begun to churn. He jogged a short distance pausing to see Sarai slide off her horse. When she caught up, he headed toward the lumbering silhouettes of the dragons in the distance.

“I hope you’ve still got your optimism with you,” he said to her as they jogged. “I sense it’s going to be a hard go this time.”

“Strong magic would do us better I think,” she breathed. She glanced skyward. Dark purple and blue clouds billowed behind the mountains like pillars of smoke. It gave the appearance of a gigantic bruise spreading across the dome of the sky. “Oooh … don’t like the look of that.”

Bannor’s heart tightened. He leaned into a run. This didn’t bode well. Through the Nola, he felt something tugging on the flux lines of magic; something powerful. The King had been right, the enemy was coming and enforce.

Tymoril and Kegari were thrumming in distress when he and Sarai reached them. The dragons gazed up at the phenomena in the sky, the fins on their heads laid back, tails twitching. The two huge creatures looked drawn from a long day spent on the trail.

Bannor ran up to Kegari. The massive creature swiveled her head toward him. “Huginn and Munnin, Odin’s spies, saw us back on the ridge.” He indicated the clouds with a nod. “There’s something powerful coming.” The dragon glanced up then back to him. He pointed to the narrow gap between two spurs of the mountain that he and the King discussed. “We want to make our stand in that canyon.”

Kegari rocked her head, making a rumbling sound deep in her throat. She bumped up against him with her huge snout. He stroked her smooth scales, feeling the vibration of her booming heart. Over the last few days, he’d grown more accustomed to these massive entities. They could be gentle as well as ferocious. He knew neither she nor Tymoril were ready for battle. The long toiling across the plain had been extremely taxing.

He heard Sarai explaining the plan to Tymoril and heard the dragon’s grunt of assent. He swung up onto Kegari’s back, settling between two dorsal spines as she pivoted to follow her sister.

In the sky, red and black colors seethed through the clouds. The churning masses moved toward them—against the wind.

Bannor clung to Kegari’s back as she lumbered down the steep ridge into the rills bordering the fens. He heard the tightness of Kegari’s breathing and felt the shudder of her muscles. She was nearing exhaustion.

He gazed toward the mountaintops now cast in the shadows of the clouds boiling around the highest peaks. Thunder rolled across the valley, reverberating amongst the rocks and shaking his bones. He tightened his grip on the spine jutting up from Kegari’s back.

Concentrating, he summoned the Garmtur’s power into his vision. His talent revealed several complex tangles of elemental and magical threads near the center of the clouds. Living creatures, several of them, all potent in magic.

Kegari wasn’t going fast enough. They’d never make cover before whatever lay in those clouds reached them. Even if they made it, she would be seriously disadvantaged. They needed her and Tymoril healthy now. In town, he accidentally learned the kinds of elemental threads that the dragon’s found intimately pleasing. A variation on that might provide recuperative powers, provided he could get it right, and didn’t hurt himself in the process.

“Kegari,” he said to the creature as the creature lumbered forward. “We need you and Tymoril as healthy as possible.”

The dragon thrummed an assent, the fins on her head twitching. The creature’s thunderous steps seemed to become more solid and determined.

“I think I can help you, but it’s risky and you’d have to trust me. If things weren’t going to be so bad—” He looked into the sky, seeing the shadow stretch down the mountainside. “Real soon. I wouldn’t risk it. Still, it’s your choice.”

She twisted her neck to look back at him, huge gold eyes blinking. The dragon put her attention back on where they were going. He could tell the massive reptile was thinking about it, ripples of tension shivered through the creature’s corded neck. Colors shimmered in her green scales. He saw her peer up at the sky. It was a long way to any kind of cover and, if anything, she was going slower not faster.

Kegari rumbled so loud that Bannor felt it through the seat of his breeches. Teeth grinding together, she looked back at him with narrowed eyes. She nodded. He didn’t have to know dragon-speak to understand, “I better not regret this.”

“Keep moving,” he said. “Either this works or it doesn’t.”

The dragon concentrated again on the rocky, boulder infested path, smashing through brush, and twisting down narrow ravines.

Bannor drew a breath and let himself fall deeper into the Nola awareness. He looked into the dragon’s body, noting the flows of magic. She was primarily a creature of elemental aspects, heavy concentrations of stone and fire, threaded through with air. Few creatures possessed more than one element in any amount. Here was an entity that combined the might of three. It made a healthy dragon, especially one her size, a truly awesome force.

Kegari’s links to her elements were wan, and her reserves all but gone. Being a creature of fire, getting drenched by rain after being injured had only worsened her poor condition.

He glanced into the sky, no time for hesitation or second thoughts. Do it right or not at all. His heart started pounding. Sucking a breath, he closed his eyes to help him focus past the sounds and movement around him.

“I’m starting,” he warned Kegari. With all the naked rock around them, it was easy to find massive root flows of stone mana. He dragged on the threads, pulling the magic to him. He felt static rasp across his body, and perspiration broke out on his face. It grew more difficult to breathe as the magic pressed in on him, whipping around his body like an icy wind. He groped for sources of fire mana and found none. He followed Kegari’s threads, wrapping the power of his Nola around them thickening and strengthening their connection. As he put more will behind it, he felt the sizzle of flames begin crackling at the tips of his fingers. Air was easiest, and he needed the least of it. He reached out and snagged a few threads from the breeze and twined it into the pool of mana churning at the edges of his consciousness.

The pressure on his body was growing intense. He wouldn’t be able to keep all the power suspended, he either had to direct it or let go. He wasn’t sure whether it would hurt the huge reptile or make her feel good.

“I’m sorry, this might hurt.” He grabbed hold of the all the mana and thrust it deep into Kegari’s bunched muscle and sinew. His hands sparked and glowed. The sleeves on his tunic smoldered and caught fire. Thor’s gauntlets grew hot.

Kegari threw her head back and bellowed. The dragon had never made a sound like this, her body shook, and the surface of her scales rippled like splashes on the surface of a lake.

Sarai and Tymoril halted and stared back with apparent concern.

Kegari writhed, wings trembling and teeth clicking. She started rubbing her head against the rocks.

This didn’t seem like the right reaction. “Am I hurting you? Should I stop…?”

Kegari’s head snapped up and her jaws crashed shut only a pace from him. He lurched back in surprise. He guessed that meant ‘no’.

The dragon’s neck swayed side-to-side, and her scales shifted from a green to a metallic gold color.

The effort of maintaining the conduit was becoming too taxing. He also didn’t want to overdo, he didn’t want to kill her. He let go of the threads and dispersed the pooled mana with a mental heave.

Kegari lurched again with the let up of the magic. She let out a sound that had to be the equivalent of a Draconian sigh. Her head came up, and the spines all down her back stiffened. She stretched her wings and he felt the creature’s body relax beneath him.

She looked around at him, gold eyes wide and teeth bared in grin. She made that boulders-tumbling sound deep in her throat. She brushed against him with her snout.

Thunder peeled through the sky. She jerked and they both looked up to see the clouds pouring overhead. Another sound grew louder as the rumble died out … a metallic rise and fall that changed pitch and key. Horns—battle horns.

“Get Sarai, and get to that ridge,” he told Kegari. “I’ll try and help Tymoril.” He leaped off, and hit the dirt running. “Sarai, go with Kegari!”

It was easy to see the renewed vigor of the Draconian as she whipped forward past him. He glanced toward the West and saw the King and Maac at the head of the mercenary group charging toward their position.

Sarai leaped off Tymoril and bounded up onto Kegari and the two of them shot forward down the narrows. Stoked on elemental magic, the dragon became a juggernaut trampling all but the largest obstacles as she plunged toward their gathering place.

Bannor rushed over to Tymoril, but pulled up short as she hissed and swerved her neck to intercept him. Fins flat against her head, eyes narrow, she gnashed her teeth. Even exhausted and hurt, this creature could make a stout heart quail. Bannor felt a cold chill rush through him.

“Tymoril, there’s no time. I apologize about the village thing. Really!” A quick glance skyward showed figures circling in the clouds. “You need healing. Let me help!”

She looked up, snorted, turned and nudged him toward her back. He climbed up as she slogged ahead toward the meet point.

The encounter had scrambled his focus. He already felt the fatigue from his first working of the magic. This time though, he knew how and where to regain his resources. With no time for finesse, he snagged the mana and slammed the flows together. Magical bursts erupted around his hands, sparks spit off Thor’s gauntlets, stinging his face and arms. A paradox of ice and fire churned through his body as he prepared to channel the magic.

He saw the first winged form emerge from the clouds and start down. Their time was up. The King and Maac pulled rein next to them.

“Go!” He screamed and pointed. “Protect Sarai!”

T’Evagduran spurred forward pursued by the rest of his troops. He waited until they rounded a turn in the ravine. Unable to hold the magic any longer he collected the forces and channeled. “Here it comes, Tymoril!”

This time the energy flow was hotter. The air sweltered with the power, toasting the skin of his face and turning the metal of Thor’s gloves red. He felt the backlash lick through his bones and he yelled in pain.

Tymoril threw out her wings, body going rigid as she let out a cry that echoed off the mountainsides and could be heard a dozen leagues away. He fought the backlash as the magic that tried to squirm out of his control. Gritting his teeth he kept the power hard in as the dragon shuddered and trembled, muscles quivering, colors flicking through her scales in waves.

When he could no longer restrain the energies, he snapped the link and braced against the backlash. It hit like a brick between the eyes. He reeled, trying to stay focused. Like every other time he over-extended, he paid for it in pain. Shaking his head, he yelled to Tymoril. “Go, go, go!”

The dragon was still obviously disoriented, she swung part way toward the right direction, but only took a few steps. Making rumbling sounds, she shook her wings and whipped her tail around. Icy fear gripped him as he realized he’d taken too long.

He looked up for their adversaries in time to see one come right into his face. He caught of glimpse of white feathers, red hair, and black armor as a shoulder slammed into his midriff. They hurdled off Tymoril’s back and crashed into the ravine wall with breath-stealing force, careening off the sand stone incline and tumbling to the base.

Bannor yelled as something in his back crunched and sent a shriek of agony up his spine. He grappled with his attacker, feeling hands clamped around his throat. They rolled in a flurry of wings, dirt, rocks, and jangling armor. With a battle cry, he slammed his fists against the attacker’s wrists, breaking the strangle hold. Using all of the power in Thor’s gauntlets he shoved the assailant away.

The armored attacker tumbled backward in a flurry of feathers and red hair, but regained its feet in the blink of an eye. Bannor had just enough time to see that his adversary was female when something shrieked through the space between them, driving him back with the air blast.

His opponent exploded down the ravine, clubbed by twenty paces of dragon-powered tail. Like a bolt from a crossbow, the winged-warrior augered into the cliff-face with an ear-numbing collision that formed a smoking crater in the rock ten paces across.

Heart thundering, Bannor gasped and rubbed his neck. He looked up at Tymoril. “Thanks, I owe you.” The dragon blinked at him with gold eyes, head fins pivoted toward him. She didn’t look angry at him any more. She grinned ferally and looked toward the hole in the cliff-side.

He looked with her and rubbed his sore neck and back. “Ow,” he murmured. “Bet that smarted.”

A hand gripped the edge of the hole. With a lurch, the figure heaved itself upright, wings glowing white. “Aye, it ‘smarted’ aplenty, as shall ye. Ye’ll not find a Valkyrie so easy to dismiss.”

As a mage, I make a terrific carpenter. Good thing I’m fairly decent at patching up my mistakes…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 21
Valkyries

« ^ »

Sucking air and blocking out the pain of his injured ribs, Bannor stared at his opponent. Breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling, the Valkyrie glared at him, steel blue eyes glinting from slits in stylized a hawk’s-bill helmet. Muscles in her angular jaw tensed, and one freckled cheek twitched. Her red hair appeared to float around her head like flames. Shimmering like sheets of polished silver, her wings rustled in agitation. Dark armor that looked as though formed from shadows outlined a muscular female body. The Valkyrie, Odin’s selectors of the slain and sometime honor guard, of all the possible opponents he and Sarai might face, these ranked among the worst. As he met the warrior’s gaze, a realization hit him.

The Valkyrie made for terrible foes, but also provided an invaluable opportunity. Who knew the land of the dead better than one who carried the slain to their final reward?

To take advantage of that though they needed to either coerce or convince one of the Valkyrie to help.

The female ripped a sword from the sheath on her side with a sound of shrieking metal. The leather strap binding the battleaxe to her belt parted with a crack in her haste to pull it free.

Behind him, Tymoril let out a growl that made the rocks tremble. The huge beast inhaled. He smelled a sulfurous burning and a surge of heat behind him. The dragon was preparing to fire-burst the Valkyrie.

A blast from further down the canyon caused Bannor to jump. “Damn!” This enemy could wait. He had to be with Sarai.

The Valkyrie lunged. He reacted instinctively with the Garmtur, snatching the creature’s threads and diverting them. With a cry of surprise and pain she veered in mid-air and crashed head-first into a boulder.

Bannor whirled and raced to the dragon. “Back to the group, fast!” He leaped, grabbed onto her dorsal ridge, and swung up. The huge creature pivoted. He gripped the back plates in front of him as Tymoril put on a scrambling burst of speed that felt as if it stretched his arms. It took only moments for them to reach the scene where seven Valkyries battled the King, Sarai and the mercenaries.

Tymoril, already moving twice the speed of a galloping horse, used her massive weight and inertia to attack. Leaping into the air, she slammed two of the flying women with her wings, and came down with all fours on two more. The cliff shuddered as her clawed feet sunk a pace deep into the rocky soil. The two Valkyrie let out abruptly stifled shrieks.

Swinging down, he hit the dirt running, plunging to where he saw the rest of the group fighting for their lives around Kegari. The huge dragon rumbled and shuddered as though stunned, probably having met the initial rush of the Valkyries. One of the T’Evagduran’s mercenaries lay on the ground clutching a bloodied and deformed arm. Four other men whirled around one of the winged women, struggling to keep from meeting a similar defeat. The King’s dark bow twanged and arrows flashed toward another air maiden in gold armor.

The winged woman moved with phenomenal speed, interposing her shield to block each of the hurtling shafts. Maac and Grimes stood at his side, weapons ready should she reach the Elven leader.

Sarai faced the biggest of the Valkyrie, a blonde woman, who from the markings on her brilliant red armor, was the leader. Unlike the others, the leader did not have wings, nor did she wear a helmet. Her hair floated free, the long strands streaming around her head as though weightless.

The exchange between the Valkyrie captain and Sarai was swift and savage. His mate focused all her elemental power on the leader, slamming the woman with waves and spikes of stone. The Valkyrie exploded through the assault, her giant war spear cleaving through hunks of granite as if it were water. Sarai backpedaled and drew her sword, simply to keep from getting over-run.

Sarai fended away the spear and countered. Her hand crackled with blue fire as she slammed a backhand across the Valkyrie’s face. The air maiden staggered back a step and snarled. She spun the spear drove it into Sarai.

Reversing her sword, Sarai knocked the weapon wide again, stepped close, and drove a hand sizzling with fire and electricity into the leader’s throat.

Bannor’s body went cold as he heard the red armored leader growl. “You do NOT impress me.” She peeled Sarai’s fingers away and slammed a mailed fist into her face. Sarai thudded into the canyon wall and slumped down.

The Valkyrie started after her. A blast of anger burned in Bannor’s chest. Nobody hurt Sarai.

“Get away from her!” Bannor yelled. He didn’t give the leader a chance to brace, grabbing her threads of power he yanked her toward him. As she staggered into reach, he drew her magical energies around his fingers, and brought the rasping mass of gleaming magic into her throat and clamped down. With the Garmtur he bent more strands of her magic, twisting them around her neck and cinching them down tight. If the Valkyrie used her powers, she’d choke herself.

He used all the strength of Thor’s gauntlets and squeezed. “If she can’t impress you,” he growled. “Perhaps I can. Hurt my wife, you deal with me.”

The Valkyrie’s eyes bulged. She glared at him with unblinking deep-set eyes, the pupils like pin-pricks in a sea of shimmering green. Her narrow face, with its slash of a nose and tight frowning mouth set in a scowl. Lips pressed to a bloodless line, she rasped. “Unhand me, Mortal, lest you lose that hand.”

Bannor understood only the pain and fury of the moment. “Twitch woman. You lose your head.” He yanked the thread on her neck tighter.

The Valkyrie gagged. Magic sparked and flared. Her face paled and she clutched at his arm.

Two more of the mercenaries went down. The King, Maac, and Grimes retreated from the onslaught of the Valkyrie in gold. Tymoril lashed back and forth with the two air maidens she’d swatted away in their charge.

“Call them off!” he ordered.

“You think me a fool mortal?”

“They stop, or they die.”

If Bannor surrendered, the whole party was bound for a cell in Niflheim, perhaps for the rest of eternity. If they let Odin win, they doomed not only themselves and their family, but Wren’s family and friends as well. Bannor knew he stood no chance of defeating the Valkyrie unless he bluffed them into backing down. He knew only one spell that might intimidate them, and the Valkyries brought the power source with them.

The storm.

He gazed into the clouds, seeing and feeling the threads of the winds and moisture, the barely restrained power of the thunder-strokes roiling in the highest reaches of the cirrus overhead. He grabbed all the threads and focused them on the air-maiden in gold attacking the King.

Like serpents of light, a dozen tongues of lightning lashed out of the clouds and struck the Valkyrie. The brilliance of the flashes whited out the sky. The concussion of multiple thunderclaps rocked the valley as the titanic power of the storm mauled the air-maiden.

She dropped to the ground in a smoking heap.

Bannor braced for the magical backlash. It hit hard, jamming through his body and robbing his legs of strength. He kept himself firm and glared into the Valkyrie leader’s eyes. He pointed to another one of her maidens.

“Again?” He pointed to the two air-maidens threatening Tymoril. The winged women had frozen in shock at seeing one of their number felled with a single stroke. “Bet they aren’t as tough as your lieutenant.” He reached to the sky.

The leader’s nostrils flared and she gritted her teeth. The woman’s voice echoed. “Do not—! Berind, Skyja … desist!” She looked over her shoulder. “Hild!” The three named Valkyries backed away from their opponents.

Heart pounding, he trembled inside. He felt the pain of his bruised ribs stiffening him up. Curing the dragons, his multiple uses of the Garmtur consumed all his reserves. He utilized every iota of energy in the clouds. Even if he possessed the strength to channel, he felt nothing to tap. He struggled to keep his face smooth. The moment she sensed he couldn’t make good his threat, the battle was lost.

“If you killed Kylie, Mortal, I shall deliver you to Odin myself—in pieces.” Her voice had a deep resonance that made his bones hurt. Her gaze went to Tymoril. “Tell your dragon to get off my warriors.”

“Tymoril. Move off those two!”

The dragon snorted. She moved her rear feet, unpinning the two Valkyries she’d driven into the dirt with her tons of mass. His stomach tightened as watched as the maidens shook and started pulling themselves from the craters. They seemed indestructible!

The corner of the leader’s mouth quirked. “Now what, Mortal?”

Good question. He inhaled slowly, trying to calm his mind. The air smelled of thunder-strikes, perspiration, and angered dragons. His gaze went to Sarai. The King had rushed to her side. T’Evagduran lifted her head. Seeing Sarai’s bloodied face made him grit his teeth. Beyond them, Kegari stirred, the ground trembled as the huge creature righted herself. Near the dragon, two of the mercenaries lay in pools of blood. Bannor swallowed, as he realized two more lives had been lost.

The Valkyrie leader looked to where the King tended to Sarai. “She fights like one with true blood. Unfortunately—” The woman’s expression hardened. “She does not have true blood.”

“Is she all right?” he called to the King.

Sarai coughed and groaned. She clutched T’Evagduran’s tunic.

“Stunned only!” the Elf leader called back.

“I chose to be lenient,” the woman uttered in a flat tone. “That may not be my choice with you. Submit.”

“You have this backward. I have you by the throat.”

“Foolish male, you have me—” He felt a crushing pain in his groin, as she gripped his crotch. She clamped down, pulling herself close enough that he could smell the mixture of weapon oil and thornflower scent in her hair. “—I also, have you. If I go,” she gave him a cold smile. “I take a momento to Valhalla with me.”

He gasped and his eyes watered. He bore down on her neck with Thor’s gauntlets. Unfortunately, he was flesh and blood. Even the dragons couldn’t hurt these women. He didn’t even know if he could even choke her without the Garmtur’s power to assist him.

The leader squeezed, forcing a grunt of pain from him. “A wise man would consider surrender.”

He drew the magic tight around her. Two could play the negotiating game. He doubled his fist around her primary source of elemental power and yanked.

She gasped, body convulsing. For a moment, she went transparent as though she’d become water.

He swallowed, putting force behind his voice. “We can’t surrender. Odin is pursuing a wrongful vendetta against our family and friends. They are already in Niflheim. If we give up, we’ll join them.”

Shuddering, she scowled. “I am the hand of Odin’s law, Mortal, not its conscience.” Closing her eyes, he felt the muscles of her throat work against his hand. “Determining right and wrong are not my place. Thus, the facts of this situation are irrelevant. There is only the mission. Failure is death.”

“We have a quandary then, don’t we?” Bannor said, staring into her eyes.

Her voice dropped to lower register. “Aye, Mortal, so it would seem.”

He heard something hissing through the air behind him. Tymoril roared.

“Milady!” A voice cracked across the field. Metal peeled; a sword being pulled from its sheath. Bannor recognized the voice of the air maiden that first attacked him.

The leader threw out a hand of warning. “Jhord, hold!”

Bannor felt a blast of air blow over them, dust swirled around his feet as the Valkyrie came up short.

“But he be touching ye! Only—”

“Jhord!” the leader boomed again. Her voice rattled his bones.

Bannor glanced behind him and a saw the first Valkyrie only a few paces away, sword out, but kneeling with her head bowed in supplication. He looked to the leader with a raised eyebrow. “The green of your unit?”

The leader frowned. “My newest, yes, if I take your meaning. Seems you were not as lenient with her as I was with yourn.” She nodded toward Sarai.

“The greens always have something to prove.” He said, forcing himself not to blink. “She was very—persistent.”

“Aye.” She nodded. “I tire of this stalemate, Mortal. Give me a reason I should not simply remove your manhood, and then your head. Your magic and will are strong, but I sense your body lacks the conviction of the rest of you. I wager I can survive your strike.”

“Milady…” Jhord spoke behind them.

“Jhord,” she growled. “Be silent.”

Bannor’s mind whirled, he needed another plan fast. What about the alliance with Thor? It worked with Loki. Maybe it would sway this Valkyrie.

He held up one hand sheathed in Thor’s gauntlet. “Recognize this—? He’s on our side.”

The Valkyrie’s green eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

“Milady Sif, I tried to tell you…” Jhord started again.

“Quiet,” Sif growled, gaze fixed on Bannor’s mailed fist.

“So you know who this belongs to?” Bannor said.

Sif’s lip curled. “Aye mortal, and well I should. I am the life-bonded to the finest warrior in all Asgard. I guard the borders of Thruthheim, and am matron to Bilskirnir for the living lightning. I am font to those who shall sit the throne of Valhalla. I know those gauntlets well—I am Thor’s wife!”

~*~

Bannor had hoped to find an asset among the Valkyrie, but he never imagined he’d get another god on their side. It cost them though. Two more of their party were dead and a third seriously injured.

The assemblage gathered into a circle quickly. Huddling around Sif, the Valkyries formed one half of the circle, while Bannor, Sarai, and King backed by the mercenaries and the two dragons made up the other half. The Valkyries, previously fearless, shuffled in trepidation. In a heartbeat, they had seen their captain go from a heroine of the realm, to traitor. Likewise, the mercenaries wanted no more to do with immortal opponents. Two more of their number occupied shallow graves, with nothing but a few gentle words from T’Evagduran to ease them into the afterlife. They stayed between the two massive dragons whose heads loomed over the parley.

They didn’t have much time to decide what to do. Odin would know that any victory won by the Valkyrie would be decisive. They would be expected back soon. Odin would send Huginn and Munnin to determine the source of any delays.

Sarai shifted uneasily in the circle of his arm. His mate’s ego seemed more damaged than the rest of her. Sif dealt with her out of hand, and the sting of being laid low so quickly in front of her father seemed a great embarrassment. Bannor couldn’t understand why. Sif was a god. Did Sarai expect to distinguish herself in head-to-head combat with a goddess? Even a lesser member of the pantheon lords like Sif possessed awesome might.

The longer he lived with Sarai, the more he questioned what he presumed to understand about her. Did she always have such impossible expectations or was this simply disappointment over her limitations?

He quickly sketched the story for Sif. The goddess had been interested in how the conflict began, and the ensuing conflict with Thor. She seemed most interested how he acquired the gauntlets.

“He was tall,” Bannor retold. “Broad, with the muscles and burns of a smith. His face was beardless and angular. He felled two of the Ajeer with a gesture.”

The Valkyries behind Sif murmured amongst one another, and the goddess held up a hand for silence. She nodded to Bannor.

“He said to me. ‘Thor sends regards. I am Modi. Thor bid me give you these. Use them, but remember they must be returned.’ Then he handed the gauntlets to me. I put them on, and haven’t been able to remove them since. I’m not even sure I want to. They might be the only thing keeping me alive.”

Sif folded her arms and frowned. “Of a certainty they kept you alive this day.” Her green eyes reflected some of the fear that her Valkyrie’s were displaying. “Going against Odin … it’s unthinkable.”

The air maidens murmured again.

“We don’t have to do this!” Jhord burst out. “We can still take them back to the Allfather. Lord Thor will reconsider and bring Lady Idun to heel!”

“No Jhord,” Sif murmured. “If not for the gauntlets, I might have thought as you did. If he has enlisted Modi and Magni to Idun’s cause, she has convinced him of its rightness. My duty is to my husband and hearth, that loyalty comes before Odin’s dictates.”

The Valkyries gasped. Their gleaming wings reflected the light like a thousand mirrors.

“This is a fine mess that old broad-paw makes for me,” Sif grumbled. “Disappears without a word. Odin said nothing of where he went or why. Surely, the Allfather must suspect that Idun either defeated him or swayed him to her cause. Why said he nothing? This is most passing strange.”

Bannor kept his voice level. “Odin doesn’t want it known that he’s after us to keep word of his vendetta quiet.”

“An important question, Lady,” King T’Evagduran said to Sif. “Do you know why Loki would be involved in this? Why would he try to kill us?”

The Valkyries stirred, heads turning to look at one another.

“Loki?” The goddess’ green eyes narrowed.

“He sent fire giants to kill us,” Sarai said. “When they didn’t succeed, he came himself.”

Sif ran a hand through her golden hair. “Pardon, then why aren’t you dead?”

Bannor reddened. “I told him a story. I told him of the battle with your husband. I think he’s convinced that Thor is dead. He got very excited and vanished to go verify if it was true.”

“Clever,” Sif said. “If Loki is trying to kill you, it means that he wanted to thwart some plan of Odin’s that relies on you being alive. Odin explicitly ordered that neither you.” She pointed at Bannor. “Or you,” she looked at Sarai. “Be slain. There is definitely something else afoot beyond Odin’s vendetta, and Loki has wind of it.” She drew a breath. “I must go to Idun and my husband.” She turned to the Valkyrie behind her. “Jhord, Kylie, we killed two of their warriors. You two shall replace them. Guide them to Niflheim and help free Idun’s family.”

Jhord blinked, red-hair looking pale compared to flood of color filling her cheeks. “Milady, you don’t want us to…?”

Sif frowned and took the youngest Valkyrie’s face in her hand. “Jhord, was I in some way unclear?” She pointed to Bannor. “This man took your honor,” she looked to the lieutenant in gold who took the order in stoic silence but wore an angry expression. “And yours. Reclaim it. Prove the measure of the Valkyrie to me, so that you may eat at my liege’s table with your heads high.”

Both of the women stiffened, and bowed to her.

Sif looked to Bannor and Sarai. “I place my faith in your hands. You have my best,” she gestured to Kylie. “And my most dear. Return them to me, or my wrath will be—uncomfortable.” She focused on Sarai. A gleam flashed in the goddess’ eye. “You.” She strode across the circle.

Bannor felt Sarai sway back against his arm, then tense to hold herself firm. Sif held a hand up, fingers apart. “We met in right combat. You stood your ground and fought honorably. Accept this token of my respect for your courage.”

Tentatively, Sarai reached up and laced her fingers with the goddess.

“May next we fight as allies.” She nodded. “I must go now. I—” The lady stopped mid-word. Looking down, she reached toward Sarai and her hand froze between them. The woman drew a breath. “Ah, my apologies I had not seen… Please, upon your return, allow me to atone.”

Violet eyes wide in her face Sarai swallowed and nodded.

Sif turned to Bannor. “Take care of our sister. Fight well.” Her gaze settled on Kylie and Jhord. “Make me proud…”

The goddess and the other Valkyries vanished, Sif’s words echoing into silence down the canyon.

Jhord looked into the space vacated by Sif and the other Valkyrie. She flipped her flame-red hair and folded her arms. “Why?” She growled. “What did I do to deserve this…?”

Bannor looked at the youngest Valkyrie and sighed. “Join the rest of us. We’ve all been asking the same question for a long time…”

Someone asked me who was more powerful, myself or Wren Kergatha. I chided them that it was a silly question, but they pressed. After a moment’s thought, I told them that we both had Gaea’s power and that its strength was equal regardless of which savant was wielding it. That power is a function of will. I’ve seen Wren do some amazing things when she was motivated. I’ve created some terrible calamities because I didn’t fully understand my Nola. So in the end, power is relative and potential is just that—potential. In the battlefield, greater experience almost always wins—unless you’re really lucky. In that regard, I’ve led a charmed life…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 22
Taking Wing

« ^ »

Even with Sif gone and the immediate threat of the Valkyrie abated, Bannor’s group still needed to overcome a major obstacle. Five leagues of impassible terrain blocked the way toward the land of the dead. Their only means of transportation were some ailing dragons and two uncooperative Valkyrie. With only those resources, they needed to move nine half-giant mercenaries and their horses, himself, Sarai, and T’Evagduran. To make it harder, there might only be a bell or less before Odin’s spies returned. Bannor kept flashing on how each wasted moment affected things. What were Wren, Irodee, Kalindinai, and the others enduring right now? Bannor had no idea what it would be like to be prisoners of Hella, the goddess of the dead and ruler of the Niflheim. He only felt certain that the experience would be horrific. Worst of all they didn’t know for sure even if they were still alive. He shuddered at the thought of arriving to find them dead and wondering if delays had cost the lives of close friends and family.

Looking over the group he growled. “Damn—damn, damn, damn.” Maac and Grimes, the two tree-tall mercenary captains probably weighed twenty-five stone each. Adding their equally huge war mounts and equipment, made it close to three tons of load between them alone. Together it must be over thirty tons of people and animals. There simply wasn’t time to make multiple trips.

Absently, he pulled at his tunic and wiped at the perspiration dripping down his face. Was he the only one that felt overheated? No one else appeared uncomfortable. Although he stood in a shadow, it still felt as if he was in a torrid jungle. As he turned, drafts of hot air blew in his face—dragon breath. The shadow covering him came from Tymoril and Kegari. The two massive creatures hunched together right behind him, their heads a pace away. Scales shimmering in a rainbow of colors, they blinked at him with gold eyes the size of war-shields, the fins on their heads cocked forward. Since the fight, they’d hovered around him.

He frowned, holding up his hands. “What? Is something the matter? Why are you two leaning over me?”

The scales around Tymoril’s her head and snout turned a darker green. She looked away, the fins on her head tilting back.

Kylie the Valkyrie fluttered her wings and adjusted the gold armor on her body. She shook the tangles from her dark hair and pulled it to one side. “Zey like you,” she said in a gruff, heavily accented voice. It was the first time she’d spoken since they’d encountered the air maidens. She nodded to the two huge reptiles. “Can’t you zee? Zey have ze mating colors on.”

The other air maiden, Jhord, pushed a hand through her thick flame-red hair. “No accountin fer taste I be supposin.”

Bannor blinked. The word ‘mating’ stood out in Kylie’s statement. The older Valkyrie spoke with the voice of authority, as one who knew dragons. He closed his eyes and shuddered. The last thing he needed was two giant reptiles mooning over him. Sarai who stood nearby looked back at the two massive creatures and put hands on hips. “Is that what all the colors are about?” She scowled at Tymoril. “Just you remember—” She pointed to Bannor and then herself. “Mine. You don’t even like males!”

The dragon snorted, head coming up and eyes narrowing. The colors all down the length of her body shifted toward reds and browns. Her wings stiffened and her tail thumped a boulder as it lashed. She surged a few steps toward Sarai who stared right at the creature without moving.

“Hey!” Bannor shouted, jumping between them. Tymoril flinched back from him with a grunt, rumblings deep in her throat. “We can’t waste time with this! Gads, half the creatures around me are ten times my age, but they all act like children!” He scanned the group. “We can’t afford in-fighting. So, if some of us can keep their mortal bashing to themselves. Others of us will refrain from derogatory scale and feather remarks. That includes parentage, lineage, choice of clothing and bad breath! We need to work together, or Odin will lock us ALL up. His spies are on the way. How do we get this group over this terrain?”

Jhord harrumphed, flicked a strand of flame red hair from her eyes, and folded her arms. “Ye don’t mortal. ‘Twas the idea in having Loki herd ye south. Odin planned to trap ye. Leave it to the Trickster to pervert the Allfather’s desires to ‘is own ends.”

Bannor looked around, meeting the King T’Evagduran’s eyes and others within the group. They all looked haggard. The fight with the Valkyrie taxed them to the limit, himself included. He felt like a spent campfire coal. “Because it’s Odin’s plan doesn’t make it our destiny.”

“Hate ta tell ya,” Maac rumbled, rubbing his balding head with a massive hand. “Only way we’ll get through there is to grow wings.”

“What about teleporting, my One?” Sarai asked. “You did it once for us.”

“Can’t. Idun warned us. We use magical transport and Odin will bag us in a heartbeat.” He felt his back getting hot again. He looked back and saw his two scaly admirers had slipped close again, their scales shimmering. Bannor rolled his eyes, backed up a step and lifted his hand up to Tymoril. The huge creature immediately brought her head down by him. He scrubbed the ridges around her head fins. The massive beast closed her eyes and made a gurgling sound that made the ground shake. He sighed.

Arms folded, Sarai frowned. “You shouldn’t encourage her.”

“What? You’d rather she wants to bite me in half instead?” He drew a breath. “If need be; you, I, your Father and the Valkyrie’s will go on and meet up with the rest later.” He patted Tymoril’s snout. “Think you can fly Tymoril?”

Eyes closed, the corner of her fanged jaws turned up, the reptile nodded. She rubbed her massive head against him. He glanced up and saw Kegari looking on. The smaller sister was obviously unhappy with the way the bigger dragon had horned in on the attention.

He let out a breath. He couldn’t let anything distract him, the decision needed to be made fast. He preferred not to leave Maac and the others behind.

He looked to the two Valkyrie. “This is probably an inappropriate time, but I may not get another opportunity. I apologize for attacking you two. We—couldn’t afford to be captured … still can’t. Friends and family are relying on us.”

Kylie sniffed. “Zere is no need, to do ze apologizing. I made ze bad judgement. I knew jou to be ze dangerous one. I let ze joung one convince me she could handle jou.” She looked to Jhord, who bristled in silence, the feathers in her wings puffing out, her pale skin turning red. “Zis situation would be much different had I come in her stead.” She looked to where two men lay in graves clawed out by the dragons. “It is unfortunate that we made mistakes that cannot be taken back. For zat, I apologize. We are ze soldiers. We do as commanded by ze Allfather. He is our master.” She drew a breath. “I—” She pursed her lips, dark eyes fluttering. “I have ze way—”

“Ky! No…!” Jhord interrupted.

“Jou will be ze silent!” the older Valkyrie growled. “Zey are our charges now. Zee lady Sif told us to take zem to ze Niflheim. Zat I shall do. If zat is not jour plan … best jou go tell her now.”

Jhord blanched and swallowed. “Ky, ye know I canna be doin that, but neither kin I be assistin them ta do what’ere deviltry they may. I be knowin in me heart that the Allfather be having good reasons for this and right plenty of em.”

“I tell you zis one time, Jhord,” Kylie responded in a dark tone. “Sif, she is my Lady. If she asks this of me, then zat is what I will do. Jou understand?” She put her hand to the sword on her hip. “You can go, or you can stay.”

The younger Valkyrie stared at Kylie with wide blue eyes. The way Kylie fingered the sword on her hip, there was no mistaking her intent.

“Ky, but onest we start this, we canna turn back. Ye hafta know that.”

“I know. You do not need to do this with me. Go to Sif, ask for ze forgiveness. You are still the young one.”

Jhord’s face screwed up, especially at the word ‘young’. It was easy to see that she hated being considered the baby of Sif’s warrior cadre. To be offered the easy way out by this older veteran soldier obviously rankled. Bannor saw the way the freckles stood out on her pale skin.

“Damn ye,” Jhord growled. “Damn ye for shamin me in ta this. Ain’t wise nor proper, and we’ll be regrettin it sure.”

“If you are with me you will be ze quiet. You know what needs done. Do it.” She turned to Bannor. “As the big one says, we must fly. Zo, fly we shall.”

The two Valkyries turned and walked toward the horses.

Bannor looked to the King and Sarai. “What are they going to do?”

Sarai and T’Evagduran looked at each other and shrugged. The mercenaries all looked perplexed as the air maiden’s stepped among the giant war horses.

Kylie stopped by the largest of the mounts. She pressed her hands together and closed her eyes. Drawing a breath, the glow around her wings brightened. With a quick move she stretched out a pinion and plucked two of the largest feathers from it. The warrior woman gasped, face going pale. She stepped to the horse, calming it. Once the horse settled, she took the feathers, one in each hand and began chanting. As she did so, the feathers in her hands grew brighter and the light radiating from her wings dimmed. With a gasp, she thrust the feathers into the equine’s back.

The big animal whinnied and Kylie caught it around the neck as it bucked and shied. A nimbus of colors radiated out from the feathers. The horse’s pelt shimmered and took on a shine like polished metal. Large dark masses formed on the animal’s back, then unfurled, stretching upward into the sky—wings.

The Valkyrie had transformed the horse into a Pegasus!

Eyes going wide, Maac murmured, “Whoa!”

“Perfect,” the King said in a low voice.

Making thrumming noises, the dragons watched with interest.

For Bannor, seeing the winged horse brought back memories. Remembrances of a night spent on the back of the great winged steed, Bomarc. Recollections of the night he killed Sarai. He clenched his hands into fists. It was a good solution, even if the reminders were uncomfortable.

For each horse, they removed two feathers and performed the chant. It was easy to see the act took a tremendous amount of energy. Kylie did the ritual five times while Jhord did it four. Both of them looked barely able to stand. Their wings looked like tattered cloaks, the shine now gone from them.

The steeds, sporting new wings, pawed the ground and snorted with new life and vitality, their bodies pulsating with the immortal energies bestowed upon them by the Valkyries.

Kylie stumbled back to Bannor. “Ze work, it is done.” She swallowed.

Bannor took the tall female by the arm and steered her to a rock so she could sit down. Behind him, he saw Sarai and the King go to where Jhord leaned against one the newly winged horses. Where the older of the Valkyrie moved under her own power, the King and Sarai needed to shoulder carry young Jhord.

Bannor gestured to one of the mercenaries and pointed a water bag lying on the ground nearby. The man grabbed it and tossed it to him.

“Here, drink,” he said, lowering her to sit on a rock.

The Valkyrie took the offering, taking a long pull at the nozzle. She gasped, wiped her lips, and drew a deep breath. “Jhord and I, we will be needing ze transport now. Our wings will grow back, but it will be zome time.”

“It’s a great boon. We recognize the sacrifice and thank you.” He looked to the sky. No sign of the spies, but that might be only moments away. They’d spent too long in this spot. He felt the heartbeats thumping by. He looked to Sarai. “You feel well enough to alter the tack to work with winged horses?”

“I’ll manage,” she said. “I’ll have to create new saddles for the dragons as well. They will need to accommodate two it seems.”

She rose from where she was sitting next to Jhord. Where Kylie looked worn and tired, the younger air maiden seemed barely able to focus. She clutched a water-skin with shaking hands, shoulders slumped, and taking breaths in big gulps. Her already pale skin had turned the color of milk, the freckles on her face looking like ink splattered on alabaster parchment. Even her flame red hair had lost some of its sheen.

He put a hand on Kylie’s shoulder. “These horses have wings now, but will they know how to fly?”

“Zey—” She stopped, took another pull at the water, and cleared her throat. “Ze magic, it knows the flying. It is as though—natural to them.” She removed the heavy helmet, set it beside her, and rocked her head back. “Conzern yourself with the men, that they know—the flying.”

He nodded. “You’ll be okay for a moment?”

She nodded and gestured him away.

He went to Jhord. “You need anything?”

The young Valkyrie clawed off her helmet and stared at him with heavy lidded eyes. “I’ll be bein—jus fine.” She made a weak shooing gesture. “Ye jus be keepin—away from … me.” With the last of her words she toppled off the rock.

Bannor lunged in and caught her, surprised at how heavy the Valkyrie was. If not for the strength of the gauntlets he might have collapsed under her weight. He shouldered her up with a grunt, and carried her over to Kylie. The older Valkyrie watched the process with a half smile and helped him to set her down.

“I told her, I would do ze last one. She inzisted.”

Bannor shook his head. “Think she can hang on? We’ll be in a hurry.”

“She’ll get by. She should ride with you.” The elder Valkyrie closed her eyes. The wings on her back shimmered and vanished. She reached up and took Jhord’s temples in her palms. Sparkles ran down her arms and flickered around her hands. The younger Valkyrie’s wings wavered and disappeared. “She should be easier to handle now.”

“Are you sure? She doesn’t like me much.”

“She is young and has much to learn,” Kylie said running a hand through Jhord’s red hair. “One of zem is the discipline. Another is recognizing who ze enemy is.” The woman’s dark eyes narrowed and Bannor felt a tingling run through him. “I have zeen your heart. You are not our enemy.”

He nodded. “I’m glad you think that. Honestly, I didn’t want to hit you with that lightning. You were ready to kill Sarai’s father. I had to stop you.”

Kylie raised her hand. “You protected your own. It is ze warrior’s way. It hurt me, but I will heal.”

Hurt. He drew a breath. A similar strike had killed an entire army of Hecate’s demons. He never—ever wanted this creature mad at him. “We’ll be off in a moment. I have to move some things along.”

She nodded to him. He saw the King briefing mercenaries on using the knee saddles for riding the winged horses, and advising them of the sharpness of the wing pinions. He went to where Sarai appeared to having problems with Tymoril. Initially, the dragon bonded with Sarai at Idun’s citadel, and they’d been close before this. Now, Tymoril refused to let her near.

“Tymoril!” he yelled.

The dragon’s massive head snapped around. Gold eyes focusing on him.

“We have to GO. Let her create the saddle. She has to do it in place.”

The reptile shook her head.

Bannor closed his eyes and clenched his fists. They were all petulant children—the gods, the elves, and the dragons. He drew a breath. “Damn it, Tymoril, what do you want?”

She snaked her head down and butted up against him. Gads, the creature was acting like an infatuated teenager!

Red-faced and toe tapping Sarai stared at him. He scrubbed behind Tymoril’s brow ridges. Gesturing Sarai to finish creating the saddle on the creature’s back. Scowling, his mate went to the task. Her eyes flashed and tracers of blue and green light shot out from her fingertips, forming the outline of the dual saddle, then slowly becoming solid materials of leather and steel.

Finished, she came around Tymoril to him. Violet eyes hard, arms folded, she frowned at him. “What did you do to these two?”

“Sarai, I don’t have that much control over my powers. I found magic to heal them. I didn’t know it would do this. I wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

She frowned at him. After a moment, her expression melted and she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Damn it, yes, I do know that. It’s just—”

Tymoril’s eye opened, the big lid blinked, then narrowed. Bannor looked up to the sky. At first, he thought it was an illusion, but then he realized it really was two black dots against the brilliant blue sky. “Have to go.” He pointed. “They’re coming. Kylie said I should take Jhord with me.”

Sarai looked where he pointed and nodded. She turned and ran toward where her father was checking the straps on the pegasai. Some mercenaries were already mounted, experimentally reining the huge animals around on the ground. “Father, get everyone mounted. They’re coming!”

Bannor looked to Tymoril. “I have to ride you. That’s the deal isn’t it?”

The creature’s brow ridges rose, fins lying back on her head.

He frowned at Tymoril, then punched her with all his strength. The impact rocked her head back. She reared back and snarled at him. He knew even his hardest punch couldn’t do much more than startle this giant beast. The creature’s scales shimmered blue, reflecting the turbulent sky above.

“Don’t mistake me,” he pointed at the dragon. “You hurt Sarai, or let something happen to her, I am going to be very very unpleasant. Understand? You want my favor. You be nice to her.”

Tymoril lowered her head and made a rumbling deep in her throat.

“I’m not playing.”

He turned his back. As he did, the creature’s massive jaws snapped closed right behind him. His clothes fluttered in a steamy gust of dragon breath. His heart jumped and his lungs locked in his chest. Bannor kept himself still. He turned back to the dragon. She glared at him, scales red with anger.

He punched her snout, making her head lurch back. “Tymoril, do that again and we’re both going to be sorry. If you’re done, the spies are coming.” He pointed. While the dragon was looking up, he turned and ran to the two Valkyries.

Kylie thumped Jhord’s helmet back on her head, and stood the groggy red-haired air-maiden on her feet. Bannor put Jhord’s arm around his neck and assisted her toward the dragons. Sarai had already mounted Kegari and was gesturing them to hurry.

“I’ve got her,” he told Kylie. “Go with Sarai.”

The older Valkyrie broke into a jog. Two of the pegasai were launching into the air, the mercenaries on their backs hooting in excitement. The King’s horse pumped its way into the air and circled around the group. The other pegasai rose in the air to follow him.

Bannor finished dragging Jhord over to Tymoril. The reptile didn’t fuss or make any trouble, she simply crouched to make it easier for him to lever the heavy air maiden up into the back seat and strap her in.

He saw Kylie climb onto Kegari’s back and strap in. Sarai yelled to Kegari and the dragon unfurled her wings and sprang into the air.

Sliding his legs into the holsters and hooking his feet, he took the reins. “Go!” He called.

Tymoril spread her wings with a roar, took a few running steps and thrust away from the ground. As they climbed into the sky, he saw the two huge black birds Huginn and Munnin wheeling in the sky above them. They’d been seen.

There was nothing they could do except to fly south at best speed hoping that Odin couldn’t stop them.

Jhord’s arms slipped around him from behind. He felt the air maiden’s face against his back. He heard her snoring. At least someone could sleep. He didn’t see much rest in his future.

Bannor? Yeah, he’s scary powerful. The most frightening thing is that he’s never been taught. He does it all by instinct. That’s the part that amazes me. When I first started using my savant powers it was instinct, but then due to an unfortunate incident I ended up living in a house full of elders, mages, and warriors. I did nothing but train and read for seasons. After returning to my family in Cosmodarus, that’s still just about all I do. I’m good with my powers because of that discipline, but Bannor … damn, I have no idea how he does it … I can only shake my head…

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 23
Odin’s Storm and Sarai’s Secret

« ^ »

Bannor flinched as bolts of fiery blue tore across the inky blackness of the sky, illuminating iron-gray clouds as they raced across the arch of the heavens. Rain stung his face and gusts yanked at his hair as he hugged Tymoril’s back. A blast of wind slammed them sideways. His air rushed out as strong arms clamped around his stomach and a face pressed hard between his shoulder blades as the dragon lurched like a leaf caught in a dust devil.

“I do’na be liking this!” Jhord yelled over the storm. “This be the fury o’ Odin for sure!”

“Fury or not, we’ll have to go down!” he hollered back.

Another blast of wind staggered Tymoril. Storm hurled slush cut his face, and his insides lurched as the dragon plummeted. He threw a loop of the reins around his fists and braced with his legs.

“Hold on!”

“Och!” Jhord gasped behind him.

Tymoril struggled, wings whipping against the gale. As they spun he caught a glimpse of Kegari also warring the storm with two figures clinging to her back. Further off, the rest of the mercenaries were spiraling toward the pitted wasteland of ridges and valleys below.

Lightning licked through the sky, blue and white tendrils lacing the thunderheads and igniting the darkness. A bone jarring reverberation followed, the sound so loud that Bannor’s ears rang.

The dragon pivoted her body, pulled out of the fall, and nosed up into the gusts with a lurch.

The storm’s intensity was growing. Tymoril could barely stay aloft now. They’d made good time the last few days. Niflheim lay only a hundred leagues away, but they’d get no closer today.

“Tymoril! Follow them down!” he yelled.

The dragon dipped her head in response, folded her wings and dove through the pounding maelstrom.

“Glory!” Jhord let out, clamping hard around his waist. “I want me wings baaack!”

Right now, Bannor wished for wings himself. He didn’t like the idea of flying, much less actually doing it. In the last few tendays, circumstances ensured he spent enough time aloft that he no longer became sick every time they went up. Plummeting at hurricane speed through storm turbulence was no maneuver he ever imagined taking part in. Now, he hoped never to do it again.

Less than a hundred paces above the jagged terrain, Tymoril flicked out her pinions and skimmed the tops of the highest outcrops. The creature probably possessed some other way of seeing, because near the surface, visibility through the freezing rain and mist couldn’t be over twenty paces. The dragon flashed over the surface so fast the details of ground blurred together into streaks.

Jhord let out noises and jerked behind him as Tymoril threaded her way through the obstacles, missing rocks and trees by hairs. Within moments, Bannor caught a glimpse of several white glows that must be the pegasai on the ground.

Tymoril curved her pinions, her tail becoming flat and wide as she used it to slow herself. They dipped up over a spur of rock and banked around barely missing the face of a cliff as they turned into the wind to flare for a landing.

Lightning creased the sky as the dragon back-angled her wings and stalled to a gentle touchdown.

Bannor let out the breath he was holding. When it came to the business of flying, there was no question in his mind, Tymoril was a master of flight.

“Creature is daffed,” Jhord complained behind him. “Going ta get us killed she is!”

“I don’t think she or Kegari know how to fly slow,” he said back to her, wiping the rain from his eyes. Looking over, he saw that the mercenaries and King T’Evagduran had indeed landed here.

A movement caught his attention. Kegari whipped over head, sweeping around on the same flight path that Tymoril had taken. Dodging through the narrow valley to wheel into the wind, flare her wings, and stall to a ground-shaking landing.

He gazed up into torrent and pushed the soaked hair away from his face. He unstrapped and swung out of the saddle. Glancing back at the young Valkyrie, he said, “What I don’t understand is why it scares you. A fall, even from that high, probably wouldn’t kill you.”

“Aye, perhaps,” Jhord answered, freckled cheeks visibly coloring even in the stormy darkness. “Twould hurt a great deal though. Tis reason enough ta be riled just the same!” She undid her restraints and leaped out to the muddy ground.

Tymoril glared at them water running in rivulets across her green scales. Her golden eyes glowed. She made a rumbling low in her throat and some clicking sounds with her teeth.

“If you don’t like her flying,” Bannor translated. “You can walk next time.” He thumped Tymoril’s thick neck. “They hate rain; makes them grouchy.”

“Aye. Can’na say I be caring for it much me-self.” She pulled off her helmet and pushed strands of rain-soaked red hair back from her face.

He walked along the length of Tymoril’s neck, and scratched behind her head fins. The giant creature murmured and rubbed against him. He saw Sarai heading toward him from Kegari and went to meet her.

Bannor gave his love a soggy hug and kissed her. She squeezed him hard. Her body trembled against his.

“Pretty scary up there, huh?”

She nodded.

“We need to find a place to hole up and get out of this rain. Let’s find your father.” He put an arm around her waist and led her toward the circle of pegasai.

He looked back and saw Jhord and Kylie join up, the older Valkyrie put her arm around the younger, apparently saying something to her. The dragons also paired off.

King T’Evagduran stood at the center of a circle of eight of the giant mercenaries, his slender frame dwarfed by their hulking masses.

“Everyone okay?” Bannor asked, raising his voice to be heard over the hissing downpour and the groaning of the wind.

“All accounted for,” T’Evagduran assured in a clear voice. “I ordered everyone to land. Neither the horses nor the riders are experienced fliers. The storm is getting worse. Better to find a secure hiding spot and get some rest.”

Bannor looked to Sarai. She raised her chin to meet his gaze.

“Agreed,” he said. “Now, if we can find some shelter…” Arm still around her, he headed toward the cliff face. He gestured to the two air maidens who had begun trudging toward them.

Everyone including the dragons gathered at the base of the massif. “Guess we break up and look for anything that might provide us cover for the night.”

Tymoril grunted behind him and gave him a nudge with her snout.

He looked back. “I’m open if you have a better idea.”

She snorted and nudged him aside with her head. Her golden eyes glowed red, then turned a brilliant white. She drew a sharp intake of breath, her long neck swelling. The scales down the length of her body took on a dark hue. The dragon’s eyes flashed. She drew her head back and blew out a hissing breath. What issued forth wasn’t fire, but a bright yellow substance that struck the cliff-side and clung. From the point of impact and spreading out, the rock turned incandescent.

Steam billowed up. The heat made Bannor and the others back away. For long moments the stone hissed and popped as water struck and boiled away. With the rain coming down, the area cooled rapidly. Tymoril made a clicking sound that Bannor interpreted to mean that everyone should back up.

When they stood far enough away, the giant reptile spun around and slammed her tail against the rock. Like a piece of fragile glass, the granite struck by the dragon’s breath shattered into gravel and poured out of the opening. In a matter of instants, the dragon had created a cave four paces across and twice as deep. Kegari moved up to help and in a short time the two behemoths had cleared out a sizeable cave big enough for everyone.

“You two won’t fit in there. How will…?” Bannor stopped in mid-sentence. Both dragons were already dwindling in size, their huge forms shimmering in a rainbow of colors as their tails and wings grew shorter, their bodies straightening to take upright positions. Draconian flesh bubbled, bones and scales making groaning sounds as they compressed down into the two reptile women Bannor remembered from the village.

Bannor noticed they looked different this time. Their scales appeared less pronounced, and the fins that decorated their skulls before had been replaced by dark bluish hair that resembled the thick ruff of a horse’s mane.

The mercenaries murmured to one another. Everyone was too soaked and miserable to be impressed for more than a few moments though.

“Get the horses,” Sarai said. “I’ll enlarge the cave a bit more and make it less visible to the outside.”

A few of the mercenaries forged off toward the pegasai. Sarai stepped to the opening and made digging gestures. With a gurgling and slurping sound, the granite shone with a faint golden color then flowed around her feet like thick mud. Each stroke of her hand scooped out a ton of rock as she forged into the shallow opening, making it deeper and wider to accommodate both the people and the animals. Mastery of the stone remained Sarai’s greatest power, and she demonstrated it as she transformed raw broken rock into smooth finished floors and walls. The mass that she scooped out of the cliff, she reformed into a pile of boulders that she used to disguise the chamber opening.

When she’d finished, she staggered to the threshold just out of the rain. Bannor moved quickly to provide her with support.

“Some goddess I’d make,” she mumbled. “Get tired moving a little stone around.”

He kissed her and pulled her to him.

King T’Evagduran followed him inside, wiping the water from his eyes and shaking it from his cloak. “Mi’Ika, I don’t know if you’re trying to impress me, but you are doing a fine job.” He put a hand on her shoulder, amber eyes searching her face. “Are you well? You seem a bit stricken.”

Hands gripping Bannor’s shoulders for support, she gave the King a wan smile. “A little fatigued is all, Father.”

The two Valkyrie swayed into the opening and looked around. Kylie drew the sword from her side which burst into flames with a crackle and lit the area like a torch. The air maiden nodded and pressed deeper into the alcove, Jhord following.

Bannor drew a breath watching the older of the two Valkyrie as she looked around the chamber. “I’m glad they’re on our side,” he said in low voice.

The King turned to observe the tall blonde immortal and nodded. “Yes.”

Bannor noticed that Tymoril and Kegari still hadn’t come in yet. They hated the rain, and by his reckoning would have been two of the first inside. Instead they’d hung back, involved in some discussion out of earshot. What could be so important that they would linger in the rain to talk about it privately? He frowned, doubting it would be anything good.

Maac and the two lieutenants stomped in out of the wet. “Whoa, Lady, you make great digs!” He peered around, rubbing his bald head. “See that, Grimes? She even made a flue for a fire.” He pointed up.

The other mercenary frowned up at the ceiling. “Damned if she didn’t,” the man rumbled in response. “Just like those Dykreeni bolt holes we took over in East Kingdom.”

Maac nodded to the King. “Yer daughter does fine work.”

T’Evagduran folded his arms. “Of course.”

The mercenary grinned with huge white teeth and shook his head. He thumped Grimes on the shoulder. “Have Tooley and Morehouse tie up the beasties over where she made a spot fer ‘em. I’ll stand watch with Maxin while you get things settled.”

Grimes nodded and ducked back out into the deluge.

The dragons finished their meeting and headed inside. Water glistened on their slick skin, reflecting the flames from Kylie’s sword. As they walked in, the King and Maac froze. The two Draconian’s moved with a predator’s confidence, muscles rippling under a shiny mesh of scales. Tymoril stopped inside the threshold out of the rain, gold eyes taking in the surroundings. Her gaze stopped on Bannor. She raised her chin and continued inside with folded arms. Behind her Kegari grinned with pronounced incisors.

Sarai watched them with narrowed eyes. “They’re up to something,” she mumbled. “I—ooh,” She winced and put an arm across her stomach.

“Star?” Bannor asked, concerned.

She thumped his shoulder with her palm. “Just feel a little sick.”

He helped her deeper into the cave and sat her down. T’Evagduran followed with a concerned expression.

When she was seated the King asked. “Mi’Ika, perhaps you overtaxed yourself?”

Sarai shook her head. “Don’t—think—so.” She closed her eyes, lids fluttering. She made a face. “Don’t feel bad, precisely. Stomach is queasy. Dizzy.”

Kylie, who was kneeling at the back of the cave speaking with Tymoril, rose. She came over and crouched by Sarai. She put the back of her hand against Sarai’s forehead. Taking his mate’s wrist in one hand, she laid two fingers across it for a few moments.

The Valkyrie frowned. “If you will permit, I need to touch your body.”

Sarai nodded.

Kylie lifted Sarai’s soaked tunic and lay a hand across her belly. The woman closed her eyes, moving her fingers a fraction every few moments.

The Valkyrie pushed out her lower lip, glancing from Bannor to the King. “She is not in the danger.” She glanced to Bannor. “Get her some water. It will pass zoon.” She put a hand on Sarai’s shoulder. “I suspect you shall be having more such spells. You should eat more. Take as much liquid as you can.” She rose and started to turn away.

The King stopped the immortal woman with a hand on her shoulder. “You know what’s wrong with her?”

Kylie pressed her lips to a line. “I have the suspicions, yes. I am not the healer. However, I have felt as she describes some three or four times. She has the look and feel of it.”

“Look and feel?” Bannor repeated, studying Sarai. Had he been missing something? Come to think of it, both Idun and Sif had appeared to notice something different about her.

“Come, Lady,” the King asked. “Please, tell us your suspicion.”

Kylie frowned. “He best should know,” she gestured to Bannor. “Were I to make the guess, I would say she is with child.”

It felt like someone punched him in the stomach. He blinked. “What—!?”

“A child?” T’Evagduran repeated, the expression on his face one of complete amazement. He stared at Sarai. “Mi’Ika, is this possible?”

Sarai put a hand across herself. A smile lit her features. “Actually—yes.”

Bannor found his mouth dry. He didn’t know if he could speak. A child—a baby—now? He was happy, astounded, and frightened all at the same time. They might not even survive this war! He dropped to his knees by Sarai. “Star? Really, do you think she’s right?”

Sarai’s violet eyes gleamed. She spoke in an utterly calm, self-satisfied voice. “I believe she is.”

T’Evagduran stiffened. His gaze settled on Bannor with narrowed eyes. “This is—” He then focused on Sarai. His attention shifting to the arm shielding her abdomen. He drew a breath. “It is—surprising news.”

“Only surprising?” Sarai asked. “Aren’t you happy? You were telling me how much you wanted a grandchild.”

T’Evagduran leveled amber eyes on his daughter and squared his shoulders. “I want an heir. A true blood—Elven—heir.”

Sarai’s cheeks colored. “Are you saying that only true blood are capable of sitting the throne of Malan?” She pushed herself back up to stand and folded her arms. “Am I then unworthy because I inherited Mother’s wilder blood?”

Shaking his head, T’Evagduran took her shoulders in his hands. “Despite her wilder blood, your mother is Elven, born and bred in Malan. Her blood came from a long line of noteworthy elves, albeit those outside the houses.” He looked over and fixed Bannor with his intense gaze. “Mi’Ika, he is no kind of Elf, in fact he’s no kind of human. Have you considered what you propose to give life to?”

The Elven princess raised an eyebrow and she made a little humming sound. Her violet eyes grew brighter and she gave him a tight smile. “I certainly have, Father. I considered it most carefully…”

Spirit travel? Yes, I think it is one of the most marvelous gifts Gaea gave to the savants. It is true freedom that cannot be compared to anything else I have experienced. I look forward to having the peaceful time to explore it more.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 24
Tao Travel and Wren’s Fate

« ^ »

Forehead pressed against the cold granite, Bannor listened to the wind whistling through the valley. He heard the nickering of the pegasai and their clopping hooves as they moved around and picked at the sweet-grain the mercenaries had set for them. Forced voices exchanged terse sentences in the background. The chamber flickered with the orange light given off by Kylie’s flaming sword. Outside, the cave mouth the storm raged. Flashes of lightning revealed rain and mist driven horizontal by tempest winds powerful enough to carry away a man. He smelled the musky odor of wet equines, the acrid sharpness of smoldering embers, and the heavy scent of weapon oil. His body ached from the battle with the Valkyries, his crunched ribs irritated by days of driving southward at top speed. Thor’s gauntlets felt heavy on his arms, even their great power not enough to lift the burden weighing on his mind.

Father. Bannor always applied that label to other people and not himself. The new status took him by surprise. His gut told him it was true. He doubted Kylie would make such a statement unless fairly certain. Add to it that Sarai intentionally sought to get pregnant, and Idun and Sif’s independent corroboration and little doubt remained that he had fathered a child. If Sif were correct, by the end of two seasons, Sarai would bring a daughter into the world.

It boggled his mind.

A child. He’d already been struggling with the idea of a family, and an extended one at that. Already, his heart seized when something threatened or hurt Sarai. How would he react now? He found it tough enough to curb his urges to constantly protect her. Sarai was a tough and self-reliant lady, she needed his support—not his protection. The thought of worrying about her and their child … it would make him crazy. He loved Sarai and everything about her. He couldn’t stop caring or being concerned.

What would he do now? They had a pact with Idun to rescue Wren and Euriel. He certainly couldn’t give up on his mother and sister in law. The chances of getting Sarai to stay behind were doomed before he opened his mouth.

The big press would be on soon. Jhord was right, the storm was the fury of Odin, and when it abated his minions would be in position. By now, the lord of the sky, the Allfather, would have no doubt where they were going and what their goal must be. They needed a way to get to Niflheim despite the storm.

He knew of only one way. Were they close enough? He was so inexperienced. It had worked twice before though.

“My One, if you don’t stop hitting that wall with your head, you’re going to cause a cave in,” Sarai said softly from beside him.

He jumped in surprise, then put his arm around her. She snuggled close. He sniffed her damp hair, traces of the fruit spice still lingered. He sighed. “I think the rock can fend for itself.”

“Were you really upset about the baby?” she asked. “You looked very troubled.”

“Star, I think you know how much I love you. I don’t think I could ever be angry with you for long. It’s just that I worry. I’m concerned enough about you. Now this. Darling, you’re—I’m sorry—but you’re reckless. You aren’t afraid to die. You can’t be that way anymore. Please say you’ll remember you’re deciding for someone besides yourself now. I’d feel so much better.”

She rubbed her face against his shoulder. She lifted a hand up and caressed his cheek. “You’re right,” she said in a serious tone. “We both have to protect our baby. I promise not to endanger our daughter unless forced.”

“Thank you,” he murmured. Just those words set him so much more at ease. She could be so stubborn. Other times, she knew exactly what to say. “Thank you.” He bent and kissed her. He pulled his lips away from Sarai’s slowly, enjoying the taste and smell of her. He stared into her glowing eyes, feeling his love for her. He couldn’t let her down. He had to try. He focused on the storm. “I’m going after them.”

“Going?” Sarai repeated. “My One, you’re going nowhere in this hurricane.”

“We’re close enough now,” he said. “I can go in my astral body. The way I rescued you from the slavers.”

Her hand clamped on his arm. Her voice dropped. “Now who’s being reckless? You almost died doing that!”

“Star, when that storm abates,” he pointed to the violence outside. “Odin will be after us enforce. I won’t get a better opportunity. We need to know if Wren and the others are alive, and where they are being kept. I can’t think of a better way. Can you?”

Sarai scowled, pushing out her lower lip. “No. I just don’t like the idea of you getting lost and leaving your body behind. That’s what happened to Meliandri.”

He nodded. “Star, I have a daughter and a wife to protect now. You know I’ll be back if I can.”

She smiled at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You better come back, otherwise I’ll haunt you…”

The group of them sat around the embers of a small fire. Sarai sat hunched between Bannor and the King, arms around her knees. Kylie and Jhord sat across from them, both fixing their hair. Maac and Grimes sat in on the circle as well, listening in silence, cleaning their weapons. Tymoril and Kegari leaned against the back wall of the cave, arms folded, faces impassive.

“So, let me understand this,” the King said. “You are going to leave your body and travel to Niflheim as a ghost.”

“In my tao form, yes,” Bannor said. “One of the powers of a savant is that we can affect physical things while we astral travel. I may even be able to free one of the others if I can find them. My time is limited though. Not much more than a bell, perhaps a bell and half, depending on how much strain I put on myself. It’s the best plan I can come up with while Odin has us hemmed in.”

The elder Elf rubbed his chin, looking at Sarai and glancing at the mercenaries.

“He’s a crazy one, he is,” Jord murmured looking up from the braid she was putting into her red hair. “Trapsing in ta the land o’ spirits as a spirit. Likely ta get trapped ya are, ‘specially if ya not be knowing where yer going.”

Kylie stopped combing the long blonde hair she had pulled into her lap. “I will go with him,” she said. “My shade has no affect on ze material, but I can act as the guide.”

“You sure that’s wise?” Jord said. “Mightn’t yer presence be more easily detected than his?”

“Perhaps,” the older Valkyrie said, starting to comb her hair again. “He has the time limited, and must make the most of it. Less time spent in the searching, is time for the scouting and the rescue.”

Sarai looked to Tymoril. “You two have been quiet. What do you think?”

The Draconian ran a snaky tongue over her teeth, and her golden eyes narrowed. She straightened up and glanced at Kegari. “He isss right about Odin. When the s-storm endsss, they will come for usss.”

Kegari pulled a clawed hand through her bluish mane. “We s-should prepare for their coming with whatever magic we can. The minionsss of Odin will know where we are s-staying.”

“Is there a way to conceal ourselves?” the King asked looking around.

The Valkyries shook their heads. Both Draconians frowned. The looks on their faces were answer enough.

“We’d need a powerful mage like your wife,” Bannor said. “Or Idun’s daughter. My powers might be able to do it, but whenever I use them—what occurs can be very—unpredictable.” He glanced at the dragons.

Tymoril raised an eyebrow. She pressed a little of her forked tongue out between her lips and rocked her head back against the stone wall. He saw the muscles around her hips flexing. If she possessed a tail, it would be twitching. Sarai was right, the dragons were up to something, or at the very least had a new agenda in mind.

“Then I guess we shall have to be creative,” the King said. “If you can discover the condition and whereabouts of those we seek, I feel the risk is worthwhile to us as a group. If they are—” He paused. “dead. It would be pointless to continue into a trap.” The Elf leader looked to the Valkyries, then Sarai. “What do you need from us?”

Bannor drew a breath. “A little bit of floor space, your best wishes, and a little patience.”

T’Evagduran nodded. “All of that you shall have.” He gazed out to the storm. “You should start immediately.”

“Agreed,” Bannor said.

~*~

Bannor lay on the floor staring up at the granite ceiling watching the firelight create an interplay of dancing shadows. He felt Sarai’s slender fingers caress his brow as she adjusted the bedroll under his head.

“My One,” she whispered. “Promise me you won’t try anything crazy. You know your limitations.”

“I know we haven’t named our child,” he said with a half smile. “I have to come back or you’ll give her some Elf name I can’t pronounce.”

“Be assured, Bannor,” the King said, startling them both. “That the child will have a proper Elven name. I will see to it.”

Sarai drew a breath and let it out slow. She didn’t look like she dared to say a word, and Bannor felt it wisest if she didn’t.

“I’m ready,” he said to break the silence. He glanced over to Kylie. The Valkyrie sat with her back against the wall, still brushing her blonde hair. The strands glowed in the firelight, seeming to give off a light of their own.

The Valkyrie nodded to him.

He reached up and pressed Sarai’s hand, wishing he could remove Thor’s gauntlets to feel her with his fingers. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. It seemed summers since he last left his body in astral form. He thought back to the times before he had done it. The last time had been quite an odyssey, in that experience he had transposed himself over Wren’s body, and she over his. He had lived in another savant’s skin, and a female one at that. That experience he would keep with him for all his days.

Bannor thought of his symbol, the tracery that represented his life essence. Wren had showed it to him those many tendays ago. She showed him how to control his power, keep it restrained so that it wouldn’t constantly be a threat.

He envisioned himself moving through the symbol, rising out of it, being separate from his body. He felt a tingling at the base of his skull, and felt his heart rush, then abruptly slow.

Bannor opened his eyes as the small fire in the cave flared up around him.

Maac and Grimes startled back with curses. The dragons stared at him with glowing gold eyes. The King looked into his eyes with a set jaw, and Sarai smiled.

It took a moment to get oriented, and remember how to move as a spirit again. He lowered himself next to Sarai. It was so strange to look down at himself, to see his long-jawed wolfish features and lean body. He wasn’t particularly ugly, but neither was he handsome. He still wasn’t sure what his Elven mate saw when she looked at him. He pressed ephemeral fingers against her cheek. He felt the softness of her skin and its warmth distantly as if the sensations came from far away. He had the urge to draw a breath, but no lungs to take it with. It was a truly odd state to be in.

She turned her face up against his hand. “I feel you,” she said. “Go. Best luck.”

He rose and looked toward Kylie. The Valkyrie stepped out of her body the way another person might remove a piece of clothing. She arose from her form outlined in gold, wings shining white. Though it appeared bright to his eyes he noticed no-one else appeared to see her.

—Can you hear me?—he asked. It had been a long time since he used these skills, he wasn’t sure he remembered everything Wren had taught him.

—I understand,—Kylie responded.—Follow me.—

She headed straight up through the ceiling.

Bannor stared for a moment. She obviously had a great deal more experience. He needed to remind himself that he could pass through objects like stone. He willed himself upward, passing into the absolute blackness of the rock, and concentrating on holding a steady path.

In moments, he emerged from the mountaintop into the fury of the storm. He sensed the raging winds and felt them like a tentative caress on his skin. Below them the terrain was besieged by wind whipped rain and sleet. Lightning stabbed into the darkness every few moments. After a short search, he located Kylie’s glowing image a short distance away. He moved to join up with her.

—You are new at the traveling astral, yes?—

He stifled the urge to nod, knowing he was little more than a ghostly image.—Yes.—I will go fast. If I get ahead, I will come back for you.—Understood.—

She shot up toward the boiling masses above.

Prepared, Bannor launched himself after the Valkyrie. Together, they rose through the turbulent cell of the storm while brilliant flashes ignited the clouds around them. The winds inside the thunderheads whipped with such fury Bannor felt them lashing his face. A few moments more and they emerged from the topmost cirrus into a brilliant clear night. To Bannor it looked as if he swam in a cobalt-blue ocean, towers of clouds like undersea massifs rising over a turbulent sea-bed of shifting silt. Stars and colored nebulae blazed from the arch of the heavens with surreal brightness.

Kylie streaked south, gathering speed. Bannor struggled to keep with her. The clouds became a blur beneath them as they raced across the sky. Leagues became heartbeats, as the southern edges of the storm appeared and dwindled behind them. Below, the jagged plane stair-stepped into a wasteland of higher plateaus cut through with winding rugged valleys. Heartbeats further, the land transformed into a twisted landscape of mountain rills, glacial rifts, and ice fields. The Valkyrie adjusted her course, aiming toward a huge mountain range. Near the center, the peaks formed a circle of what appeared to be league-high demon’s teeth jutting from the land. Clouds threaded between the rocky fangs, their edges black as though soaked with poison.

Even without a stomach or a throat to tighten, unease made a tremor go through Bannor’s tao form. As they hove closer to the land of the dead, he sensed that this blighted zone of rime and jagged rock was every bit the anvil of punishment spoken of in the legends. The realm of dishonored warriors.

He followed the Valkyrie between the peaks and down into the valley. Greasy black smoke fingered a dismal theater of blighted trees and eroded hills scabbed over with patches of luminous gray ice. Rivers sliced across the terrain like open wounds, the icy froth crimson with blood. Across the snow-scape, figures charged and retreated in an unending cycle of combat and defeat.

Though his real body lay a hundred leagues a way, Bannor felt himself shudder as he thought of his friends and family trapped somewhere amidst this horror. One day was too long to spend in such a place, much less a score.

Kylie flicked across the landscape toward a mammoth complex that wove in and out of the northernmost peaks, its buttresses and towers constructed to resemble horns, claws, and scowling visages.

They dove into the base of the largest tower, past steaming fumaroles, into a twisting labyrinth of caverns. Trolls, ogres, and giants stalked through the dark spaces, predators in search of unwary pray.

Bannor thanked his fortunes that Kylie had come as a guide. Even at spirit speeds, this place was too enormous to search for seven people. They’d already seen dozens of catacombs each capable of holding thousands of prisoners.

The Valkyrie slowed, shooting down the passages quickly, but taking obvious care in where she went. As they zigzagged through the maze, it became apparent, she was looking for something. Finally, she paused at the top of a long twisting staircase that led out of the bowels into a dungeon structure. In front of them lay a hall lined with iron-bound scalebark doors with barred view ports.

She looked back.—You kept up. Good. Know you now why I came?—Yes,—he answered.—We still might not be able to find them.—

He couldn’t make out the Valkyrie’s expression but he sensed she frowned.—Possible.—If I were to call out to my friend in mindspeak, would it be detected? Would it give away our presence?—Unwise,—Kylie said.—Admitted, the chances they are small. Only the goddess or her highest servants might hear. If they did though… She didn’t continue. He didn’t need her to, he’d seen enough already to know what that might mean.

He was stuck, if he used the Garmtur to locate Wren and the others, that too might be detected, perhaps more readily than if he used mindspeak. What he wouldn’t do to know just a few trivial magic spells. He’d seen wizards use pathfinder sprites, they weren’t always accurate, but they always lead in the general direction.

—Guess we go block by block and hope to get lucky,—Bannor determined.—You sure they’ll be here?—

Kylie paused for an uncomfortable amount of time.—No surer than I am of five other places,—she answered.—Do you wish to try one of those first?—No. No—I trust you.—

They started their search one to a side. Even moving at twice the speed of galloping horse, to scan a hundred cells took a few long breaths. Even in this chamber, which was small compared to others he saw, contained over a thousand cells. Not every cubicle contained an occupant, but they all needed to be checked. As they rushed down the rows, Bannor’s mind whirled at the possibilities. What if the prisoners were under Hel’s personal supervision? What if, to thwart rescue attempts, the prisoners were housed with the general population? Other possibilities nagged at him as they completed their search of the cellblock. Time was short, and he might not get another opportunity.

Kylie sensed his desperation and headed straight away to the next place she thought them likely to be housed. The next place was enough like the previous to be considered its twin. More creatures wasting away in pain, more time gone. They seemed no closer to finding Wren and the others.

They continued to the third location, and started what Bannor sensed would be more fruitless wasted time. As they wove down endless seeming passages past armies of grunting snuffling creatures, he could only boggle at the task before them. If he didn’t find them as a spirit, to locate their friends while searching on foot would be impossible. Not with armies of blood-thirsty creatures at every turn, and leagues of corridors that all looked alike.

He turned a corner and swept down the next row. There had to be a way to do it. They shared the bond of the Nola and its common tie to the underpinnings of Eternity. A single thread possessing an imperceptible amount of energy could lead him to Wren, just as the tiny pathfinder sprites guided a mage. He needed a new kind of thread for that task. He always worked with primordial threads, the elemental and magical skeins set in motion at the beginning of time. He’d only dabbled in creating new threads. He did know that such threads possessed a signature, one that gave them an orientation toward whatever created them, like a loadstone orienting toward North. A thread created by Wren would gravitate toward her. Perhaps he could use that.

He didn’t have one her threads. He did have her ‘self’ tracery memorized though. Startled at the revelation, he stopped in the passage, ignoring the cells around him.

That’s it! He could create a thread and change its signature to match hers. Then the thread could act like a compass!

—Bannor?—

He ignored the Valkyrie for the moment, and concentrated on his body, now a hundred leagues away. He pushed down into his tracery, feeling the massed threads that made up his ‘self’. With care, he reeled off a piece and separated it, concentrating to bind it into existence. The reddish thread shimmered into being across his ephemeral hands, nothing more than an inconceivably thin chain of forces. He pressed down on it with his will, pushing the master key of the Garmtur’Shak Nola into the lock that controlled that thread and all the threads of reality. With a twist, its core and its signature were open to him. He substituted Wren’s tracery for his own, then sealed the thread again. Like a scarf in a gentle breeze, the thread’s receiving end fluttered and oriented.

—Yes!—The elation made his whole spirit form ignite.—That way!—He pointed, heedless of the fact that Kylie could barely see him.—That way! Is there a holding place in that direction?!—

He felt the Valkyrie frown.—Yes … but it hasn’t been used for centuries, and the areas around it are in much disarray. It would be a difficult to maintain… That’s where they are! I can feel it. Go!—

Sensing his certainty, Kylie rushed off and Bannor pursued. They emerged from the base of the tower in moments, and speeded across a vast open terrace of burning sulfur, and down into the bowels of a curtain wall on the outermost edge of Hel’s citadel.

Bannor gripped the thread tight, watching its flux carefully as they flashed down unused corridors devoid of life. No guards? He began to doubt his wizardry as Kylie took a few more turns, down empty corridors.

The thread turned.

—Stop!—he cried.

He backed up to an intersection that Kylie had bypassed.—What’s down there?—Nothing. It used to be living quarters more than a millennia ago.—That way.—

They headed that direction, and took another turn that opened into a series of adjoining suites. Movement caught his attention. He froze and called for Kylie to stop. Two men stood at a door. The armor and weapons were distinctive.

Ajeer warriors. Odin’s men.

The thread indicated beyond them.—This is it,—he thought to Kylie. He dimmed down his image, not certain if they could perceive his astral form, but not wanting to take a chance. He passed through the door between them without seeming to be noticed. The hall beyond had been newly renovated, the air was filled with raw magical threads. Everything had been touched or created by deity magics. Sixteen doors, eight to a side, were made of mirror smooth metal that sealed at the edges with no perceptible gap. No lock or opening mechanism was visible. Only one of the doors looked different, the casing appeared bent and deformed, and the metal was bowed out. Wren’s thread waved in that direction.

Bannor tried to swallow, but the feeling only made a tickling sensation where his throat should be.

He moved to the door and touched it. He jerked his hand back as sparks leapt from the surface and the metal abruptly turned red. As he feared—iron. The gods new that cold iron could keep the spirit of a Savant imprisoned.

—She’s here,—he said looking back to Kylie.

—We cannot be sure,—she answered.—They have seen to that. The doors cannot be unlocked, and there is no way to see if there is anybody inside.—

He drew a breath.—What they don’t know about me, won’t hurt them. Hope this doesn’t make too much noise.—He drew away from the door, gathered his will, and launched himself at it.

The agony he experienced as he sliced through the metal was the worst he’d ever felt while in spirit-form. He writhed on the floor for moments, gathering the composure to move again.

When he did, his heart seized.

Wren Kergatha lay hunched in the corner, body gaunt to the point of starvation, blonde hair hanging in strands across a face both sallow and slack-jawed. She didn’t move, nor did her eyes blink. Fear gripping him with icy talons, he went to the fragile body testing for signs of life, listening for a heartbeat.

Of breath, he felt none. The heart of the once vibrant savant was still. Her flesh was already starting to grow cold.

Oh no.

Bannor let out a cry of rage and frustration. Wren the Kel’Varan Nola, the grand-daughter of Idun, his friend and teacher was…

Dead.

The bodies of savants and their nolas are strange things. A savant has all their powers while only in a ghostly tao state. Strangely, there are also aspects of their bodies that also govern savant powers. Even though I can manipulate them, I still don’t really understand how or why it works. When Wren was in my body she could access the Garmtur Shak’nola even though her tao was not bound to it. When I was in her body I could use the Kel’Varan. I guess a savant can actually have any nola provided they have the key. That key is both a part of the body they live in and in the tao that gives them life. The Garmtur is the skeleton key able to unlock any nola. That is the most frightening aspect of its power.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 25
Escape By Nola Theft

« ^ »

Trapped in the cell lined with cold iron, Bannor could only yell in loss and frustration. Odin may have wanted to strike out at Idun, to punish and perhaps force her obeisance, but killing Wren would only cause the goddess to strike back. Idun would want blood for the death of her grandchild. If Euriel had survived, she’d demand blood. If both were gone … a war would ensue that only the death of either Odin or Idun could stop.

Hovering over Wren’s still form, he felt a tremble go through his body a hundred leagues away. He’d been astral traveling for the better part of a bell. Going through the iron injured him. He didn’t know for sure if he could even make it out again. What should he do about Wren? Her body wasn’t cold. She might still be revived. He saw no way to open the door though. The deformed metal portal indicated that Wren had somehow used her savant power to try and break out. It appeared as if a giant had been hammering on that wall. He knew only a fraction of what the Kel’Varan was capable of, and now might never know.

Another icy chill raced through him. Flames cast a shadow from his spirit form across the floor. He turned too slow and claws pierced the flesh of his ephemeral body and slammed him into the iron lined wall.

He screamed as sparks erupted from the metal, sending cherry red streamers of smoke and sparks cascading across cell. With a heave of will he shoved away the being gripping him.

Bannor felt his far away body’s hammering heart. He turned on his attacker, knowing if he used the Garmtur it might give away his location.

He faced a giant hawk with flames for feathers and talons that shone like diamonds. The shock of recognition froze him for an instant and he barely dodged as the creature attacked.

—Wren! It’s me!—He ducked again as wing spurs lashed at his neck.—Wren! It’s Bannor!—

The creature hesitated. Golden eyes narrowed. The voice that echoed in his mind sounded cold and hard.—If you are Bannor, when I had the power of the Garmtur, what were the last words I said?—

He would never forget that incident.—You said, ‘Bannor, I can see myself.’—

A rainbow of colors shot through the creature’s form.—Lords, it is you!—The creature surged forward and he felt arms pull him close in a hug.—Sorry, sorry, Hella has been tormenting me, trying to get me to reveal secrets. I’m so glad! I didn’t dare hope… Guess it’s your turn to get me—Her form flickered.—Oooh, feel weak.—Wren’s spirit body quivered. The flames dimmed. She dove into her body. A shimmering went through her skin and her eyelids fluttered. She still looked terrible, cheeks sunken, and body emaciated from hunger.

She opened her mouth to speak and nothing but a croak came out. She ran a thickened dry tongue across her lips.—Pardon me, if I don’t get up,—she thought to him.—I’m stuck Bannor. They’ve done everything but kill me.—

How could he get her out in this condition? How did either of them get out? They needed a power able to open a door that only a god could open—he paused—or a savant. A Kel’Varan couldn’t open that door, and the Garmtur was being watched for … what about another kind of savant?—Wren, if you could have any other savant’s power to get you out, which would be best?—

She narrowed her eyes.—Another savant, why—She stopped herself, apparently realizing explanations could come later.—Aide from the Garmtur? Either a Chakta Nola a savant of space, or a Ta’arthak Nola, a savant of matter. The Chakta can bridge any two places in the universe with a thought. The Ta’arthak can transmute non-living matter, shape it any way they want.—

Bannor focused on her.—Which would be easier to figure out?—Huh?—She rocked her head back against the wall and coughed. The rattle in her lungs didn’t sound good. She needed a healer’s attention immediately. She grimaced, eyes gazing into nothing.—The Ta’arthak I guess. Wouldn’t need as fine a control… She groaned.

She sounded so weak. Even if he could transform her link to Eternity, did she have the strength to tap the power? Wren possessed the experience with controlling savant power. He couldn’t change his own powers even if he wanted.

—I’m going to try something,—he told her.—I’ve learned that savants are—Connected? Do it then. I’ll take the risk. It’s leave now, or I won’t leave alive.—Her mental voice hardened.—Dead or not, get me the Hades out of here.—

Wren could still finish his sentences for him. She knew so much. He’d only begun to learn her secrets. She’d placed the decision in his hands. He thought of Sarai, and the child whose life might depend on what he did now. He couldn’t let Wren down, or Sarai. Friends and his new family were relying on him.

Steeling himself, he focused on his distant body and the threads of the Garmtur that tied him to Eternity. To hide the Garmtur, he worked the savant magic from his body in the cave. He could manipulate Wren’s threads of reality through their common link to eternity.

Bannor gathered the threads of Wren’s savant power feeling them back to their source. He joined with her power tying his body and hers across the leagues. He felt her frail essence. Weak as they both were, one misstep would kill them both. Senses stretched along the thread. He felt for the signature of the Ta’arthak Nola, willing the Garmtur to seek out that thread of reality.

He felt his faraway heart laboring, felt sweat sting his closed eyes. If he failed, Wren would die and he would doom the others to permanent imprisonment.

Searching… searching… why couldn’t he find that signature? How could it hide? He pushed his will out demanding the source of the Ta’arthak. He pushed harder, calling on eternity’s energies. Pushing… pushing… For an instant, he detected what he was searching for, only to have it jerked away. With an angry shove, he lunged after it, tearing through an obscuring barrier. There was a flash of recognition, then anger and affront as the creature realized he’d discovered it. Bannor read and memorized the signature, he didn’t have time to worry about who he had offended. Right now, the need for this information overrode other concerns.

He turned his attention to Wren’s threads, and pressed the key of the Garmtur in the prime thread of the Kel’Varan Nola.

Lying on the floor of the cell, Wren gasped, fragile body shivering. Bannor worked quickly. It was similar to the way he’d changed the signature of the thread he used to find Wren. This time though, the tracery was far more complex.

His felt himself shiver. The Ta’arthak didn’t fit. Wren, as a savant of forces, she acted on energies already in motion, concentrating, and redirecting them. He now saw that the matter savant’s power acted as a catalyst, a trigger that caused reactions that were shaped as they occurred. To his dismay, no matter how he tried to integrate the Ta’Arthak with her control thread, some part refused to mesh.

Wren twitched.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Only a little energy remained. Have to improvise. He used the thread he created to guide him to Wren and manipulated it like a patch. Pressing the Ta’arthak into her control thread, he fit it in as best he could, filling the gaps with the guidance thread and creating substitute connections for paths of control that Wren didn’t possess.

He locked the operation with a twist of the Garmtur’s key. It was nothing he could be either proud or confident of. He had worked purely on instinct.

The savant groaned, sallow skin made even paler by the operation. Her eyelids fluttered.—What did you—? I can’t see!—

Bannor swept down her body and levered her up to a sitting position. It took a great deal of will, but she’d lost so much weight that Wren barely weighed anything.—You’re used to seeing through the Kel’Varan,—he told her.—The Ta’arthak isn’t a seeing talent like the Kel’Varan. It’s closer akin to hearing. You hear the material around you. There wasn’t time to figure it out. The two powers didn’t work together so I improvised.—Improvised?—he saw her throat work.—What’s that weird humming?—

He looked around, not hearing anything.—I don’t—ah, that could be the Ta’arthak working.—Lords,—she moaned, eyes hooded.—So, scrambled don’t know if I can…

He needed to reinforce her somehow. What he used to heal the dragons wouldn’t help. He’d be hesitant to do that to Wren anyway, considering the effect it had on Tymoril and Kegari. She needed enough of a jolt to get out of here. If only she had Sarai’s elemental powers. As long as she was in contact with rock, his Elven mate needed little more than water to survive.

Wait, Wren did have Sarai’s powers! After the blood magic that restored Sarai’s health, they each received a little of the other’s abilities. Wren would be able to get strength from the stone—if they could get the metal floor out of the way. The stone might provide enough vitality for Wren to get out.

She still needed the strength to work the Ta’arthak that first time. Bannor took Wren’s shoulders, willing his threads and hers together.—We have to break open that floor. Listen to the hum of the metal.—

Bannor let himself grow closer to her mind until he heard the icy-chatter of the metal surrounding them, a droning constant tone. As he listened through Wren’s awareness, he sensed a beat, a pulse—the rhythm of the material. That would be the key.—Feel that pulse?—he asked in her mind.—That’s our freedom singing to us. You have to change that rhythm. Make it different.—Different?—Wren sounded drained.—What are you… that tapping?—Yes. Wrap yourself around it. Grab it. Compel it.—

Bannor felt her reach, and put his strength behind her. His vision turned hazy red. He was getting weak as well. He felt her grab and miss, grab and miss, mental fingers scrabbling for a purchase on alien concepts.

—Remember, this is like a sound,—he told her.—Rings spreading across a lake. If it helps, see the sound in your head.—Vibrations?—Wren muttered to him.—Harmonies!—A realization seemed to shock through her.—It’s not one sound. It’s a whole bunch of sounds climbing over each other! Like forces overlapping in the Kel’Varan.—He felt her focusing.—Have to tune out everything except… Bannor sensed her reaching out … reaching … reaching … contact.

The surface of the metal underneath them rippled as though it had become water. With a plunk like a spoon dropped into thick pudding, Wren’s body plopped through the liquefied material. She gasped, immediately losing her grip on the Ta’arthak. The rippling floor froze. Bannor gasped as solidified metal sliced across Wren’s midsection.

The savant squawked, hands beating against the resilient surface.

—Wren! Wren!—He fluttered around her. Damn him for fool, he’d killed her!—Hades. Hades … Ouch,—she growled in his mind.—Stupid.—

Bannor halted.—Ouch?—

She rocked her head back against the wall.—Pinches. Oooh … I can feel the stone.—She drew an easier breath, eyelids fluttering.—Ummm.—

Stunned by what he thought he saw, he hovered slid close.—You’re okay?—

She opened one eye.—Bannor … I’m near dead, surrounded by enemies, and lodged in the floor of a prison cell. I am not okay.—I thought you were cut in half!—

She looked down, pressing a thumb down next to her torso.—Displacement. Metal wasn’t where I was. Sorry I scared you—scared myself.—

He sighed. The room turned red in his vision. He felt a wave of weakness rush through him.—Have to get moving,—he told her.—I can’t stay much longer.—

Wren ran a hand across her scalp.—Bannor, I’m not strong enough yet. We don’t know what condition the others are in. Tell me, is it just you and Sarai coming to get us out, or do you have help?—

Bannor forced himself calm, knowing that Wren understood the need for haste.—I have two Valkyries, King T’Evagduran, two of Idun’s elder dragons, and a handful veteran mercenaries mounted on pegasai.—

She drew a breath.—When we have time I must hear how you rounded up that menagerie. How far away are you?—Hundred leagues. Odin has been after us. He created a hurricane to pin us down. I didn’t think I’d get another chance to help. I guess he didn’t want me to get close enough to do what I’m doing right now.—

Wren grimaced.—Probably.—She looked down at her torso trapped in the metal. She stared at the surface, eyes narrowing. Bannor saw her prime thread ignite as the energy of eternity fed the Ta’arthak Nola. The surface of the floor, this time in a smaller area rippled like water. With deliberate care she pulled herself from the silvery pool with a slurping sound. The material solidified after both legs were free. Groaning, she clawed up the wall to a stand. She looked pale and haggard, as though she’d aged thirty years. Her legs shook.—I hope the others are in better shape. I can’t take three steps. I can feel this Nola’s potential. It’s so different. I don’t think you connected it right.—Best,—the red haze flashed through his vision. Briefly he caught a perception of the cave and Sarai’s concerned face, some kind of excitement. He flashed back, feeling distress in his host body.—Ooof … best I could do. I’m losing my connection.—

She nodded.—Let’s give it a try.—She pointed her hand at the door. A green glow flickered in her eyes and around her fingertips.

The metal of the door pulsated. With a groan and a sputtering sound, the metal melted like wax, pooling into a huge blob on the floor. Outside in the corridor, Kylie hovered, wings glowing and arms folded. She frowned at Bannor through the opening.—I told myself I would have felt it if you died. I was beginning to doubt though…

Wren’s eyes widened.—Who’s that?—Kylie,—Bannor answered as he assisted the savant to stagger toward the opening. It took all his will to keep her upright and moving.—My guide.—

Wren shook her head.—She’s one of Odin’s elite … how … nevermind. Damn, so tired.—We must move with ze haste,—Kylie thought to them.—My time here grows short.—It’s taking all my strength to stay,—Bannor said.

—Don’t mind me,—Wren growled.—I just haven’t eaten for a score of days. I’m moving by the grace of Ishtar and a little stone magic.—She focused on the doors across the hall and narrowed her eyes. She swung her arm down the hall. The entire side across from them sagged and fell in. She groaned and Bannor was forced to hold her up.

Several voices let out startled cries. The first body out of the cages was a slender red-haired man dressed in ripped and matted leather. Bannor recognized Vanidaar, Wren’s father.

If the long imprisonment had been a hardship, he didn’t show it as he sprinted to his daughter’s side. “Liandra!” He caught her up from Bannor.

“Dad…” Wren murmured, going slack in his arms.

Behind Vanidaar Kergatha, others emerged from the cells. Huge Irodee lunged out into the corridor and went into a fighting crouch, dark eyes blazing and wild, fixed on the doorway guarded by Odin’s soldiers. The big woman looked gaunt and wiry, her blouse and breeches ripped and faded, dark hair in a tangle.

Kalindinai stepped out behind her. The Elven queen wore an iron sphere shackled to one hand to prevent her from using her magic. Elven slim and fair skinned she looked like a ghost dressed in blue tatters.

Sir Laramis De’Falcone stumbled from his enclosure, managing to stay straight despite the obvious hardship he’d endured. His armor was gone, but the green and white De’Falcone surcoat looked little worse for wear.

Once plump Janai, Sarai’s older sister emerged behind him with jerky steps, slimmed by more than a stone, face set in a predatory scowl, amber eyes glowing in the dim light.

Euriel Kergatha, the daughter of Idun, was the last to leave captivity. Her face and naked upper body bore the unmistakable marks of a lash, heavily and liberally applied. She moved with stiff steps, but carried herself like the daughter of a goddess. She went directly to Wren, hugged her, and then her husband. She embraced Kalindinai. After a moment, she put her fingers into iron sphere around the Elf’s hand. With a contemptuous heave, she ripped apart the iron casing crippling Malanian queen’s magic. She looked to her husband and their eyes locked for moment. She moved back to Wren, hand gently stroking her daughter’s cheek. Bannor sensed a mental exchange flash between them.

She turned and abruptly focused on him, lightning blue eyes glowing with the power of an immortal. “We cannot properly express our thanks, just know that the houses of Kergatha and Idun are in your debt.” Her attention swung to Kylie who had stayed statue still the whole time. “Kylindia Farseeker, we recognize our debt to you as well.” She closed her eyes, and a brighter light shone through her lids. “I apologize in advance for what I must do now.” She thrust her hands into the spirit forms of Bannor and Kylie.

For Bannor, it felt as if he were turned inside out. His vision flickered red, and the sensation of falling swept over him. In flash of pain and confusion the world flickered out…

The next moment, he lay on his back, head aching and guts churning.

He heard a female voice say, “Watch them.” Then something exploded. “Let Hella and Odin come. This time it is we who come for them.”

Yes, you heard right, there was this one time when Bannor and I traded bodies. It was pretty strange. More for him than me I think. The moments that I had the Garmtur under my control will live with me for a very long time. I guess there was a reason Gaea gave Bannor the Prime savant power instead of me…

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 26
The Mistress of Hel

« ^ »

Bannor didn’t know how he wound up in Niflheim, except that Euriel Idun-daughter orchestrated it with some magic he’d never experienced before. Neither he, nor Kylie the Valkyrie, got the chance to even ask for an explanation before the group was sprinting for freedom.

A detonation of flames shattered the cellblock door, flattening the guards in front of it. Laramis, Irodee, Euriel and Janai snatched up the weapons of the fallen warriors, and the group of them raced toward the upper halls and the surface.

Drained from his exertions to free Wren, it took all his effort simply to cling to the backpack that had been teleported with him and keep up with the group. Kylie wasn’t physically impaired, but suffered a disabling disorientation. Bannor had to guide the Valkyrie to keep her from crashing into walls.

Rag tag would have been a kind assessment of their war party. Vanidaar carried his daughter Wren, who hung limp in his arms. Queen Kalindinai and princess Janai stumbled along with a heavy-footed tread that meant fatigue would be quick to set in. Sir Laramis and Irodee, while they made a good show, Bannor guessed they might get through one skirmish.

Euriel Idun-daughter had apparently consumed vital energy in bringing himself and Kylie to Niflheim. She showed signs of tiring after the first turn. She’d spent close to a moon beneath a torturer’s lash. Red marks all over her bare torso testified to her treatment at Hella’s hands. As they hurried down the corridor, Laramis stripped off his surcoat with a flourish and offered it to her. The woman shook her head at the gesture, but took the offering. The air felt just a fraction warmer than ice, which couldn’t be comfortable on her bare skin.

Wren’s father, Vanidaar showed no evidence of injury or fatigue. Where the others looked battered and drained, the wizard looked fresh. Only the dirt on his skin, and the battered and ripped state of his clothing indicated he’d been imprisoned. Unfortunately, his attention remained entirely on Wren who still hung at death’s door. The wizard periodically worked magic to keep her from slipping away. As he used his magic, Bannor felt a familiar tingle. He studied the man and the threads radiating from him. Until this moment, he had somehow masked himself. The powers of Eternity were unmistakable. Vanidaar Kergatha was a savant. Bannor couldn’t identify what form of the Nola the man possessed, but it seemed to be keeping Wren alive.

Kylie walked next to him hand on his shoulder, still unsteady. No longer protected by being in his spirit form, Bannor shuddered in the cold. His breath made frosty puffs in the static atmosphere. A sulfurous scent made the air hard to breathe. His legs felt like wood, and the pack dangling from his shoulder seemed heavy as an anvil. A cacophony of grunts, groans, howls and screams echoed from far away but the sound never diminished as they moved from hall to hall.

His mind kept flicking to Sarai. She would be anxious at his sudden disappearance. She might even think him captured by Hella or Odin—who else could or would grab him away like that? She’d said she could read his mind. He hoped it could work over this distance and that she would know he was safe. He didn’t want her doing anything crazy.

Breathing heavy they plodded up the corridor, threads of grayish light lacing the interior through cracks in the stone ceiling some forty paces above. “Damn,” Bannor murmured. “It didn’t seem this far on the way in.”

“Travel in ze spirit form is deceiving,” Kylie said. She glanced around at the others. “Your plan worked better than I imagined.”

He rubbed his aching head. “It’s that last part I wasn’t expecting.”

From the front of the group, Euriel looked back. “We needed you two,” she told them. “None of us are fit.” She looked back to her husband. “How’s Liandra?”

“Not good,” the red-haired wizard responded. “I need a place to treat her.”

“I fear we all need treatment,” Laramis said. “There is no place safe within these catacombs.”

“Irodee care not where we go, as long as it warm,” the Myrmigyne rumbled in a low voice, rubbing her arms. “Born in jungle. Not made for snow.”

Bannor glanced back at the huge woman who’d reverted to the polyglot common that she used when he first met her. She never spoke that way around her husband before. He guessed the woman was simply too fatigued to remember to alter her speech. The Myrmigyne surprised himself and Sarai by being able to affect the speech and accent of one nobly taught. Which form of speaking was really affected, her broken common or the smooth noble tongue he wasn’t sure.

Bannor felt a hand grip his shoulder. He looked over and met Queen Kalindinai’s eyes.

“Matradomma?” he addressed her formally.

“Bannor,” she said in a tight voice that was a shadow of its normal power. “You were struggling with Hecate when Janai and I were knocked unconscious. On the other side of the rift, Odin took us captive before I found out what happened to Sarai. You’re alive. I’m assuming…” She didn’t finish.

Under normal circumstances, he would never have touched the Queen of Malan, but he could see in her violet eyes that she needed reassuring. He took her hand in his. “She’s strong and healthy, and with her father right now. They have two dragons and a whole flight of pegasai with them.”

Janai leaned around Kalindinai. “Father’s here in this land?”

Bannor nodded. “For three summers in fact.”

“He has troops with him too, right good, that,” Laramis remarked, overhearing. “How many?”

He frowned. “Nine—now. We have two Valkyries though, that makes up for a lot.” He looked to Kylie. The air maiden’s brow furrowed, but she kept quiet.

“Nine?” Irodee repeated with a scowl. The expression on her long face and in her dark eyes said the rest. Bannor thought the same thing. Nine might as well be none against war hosts of an immortal.

The Elf queen looked down at his hand for a moment, then put her other hand on top of it. She raised her chin. “Thank you. I don’t know how you freed her from that monster—but you did.” A tear crept from her eye. Her lip quivered. “Thank you.” She gripped his shoulder, the fabric bunching up in her fist. She banged her forehead against his arm, and let out a breath. “Thank you.”

Vanidaar who walked a short distance away from him carrying Wren, fixed Bannor with dark eyes. The wizard and Wren were ones still conscious when he defeated Hecate. Euriel glanced back and pursed her lips. The husband and wife somehow knew how the battle with Hecate would end and had conspired with Idun to revive Sarai in Meliandri’s body. He could only wonder what the plan would have been if Odin hadn’t interfered.

Parts of the conflict with Hecate still didn’t fit together. Laramis and Irodee had shined with the power of avatars in the battle, but at the very end it seemed that their god had forsaken them.

Now, the whole group was together again, against not one god, but a whole pantheon. Would the insanity never end?

He put his arm around Kalindinai and for the first time since he’d met his future mother-in-law, she hugged him. She held on fiercely and whispered to him. “Jhaann is really here?”

Bannor nodded. “He and his guards were looking for you. They were pulled in when the rift collapsed.”

“And he’s been here three summers?”

“Something to do with how time works here,” Bannor murmured. “I think he’s a bit upset at missing Ryelle’s nine hundred and ninety-ninth and being apart on your millennium anniversary.”

The queen smiled wanly and wiped at her eyes. “We haven’t missed it yet. There are still a few days left.”

He didn’t remark that the chances of rejoining the others were small. They needed hope. Escaping the cells was only one step. Hella’s legions still stood between them and freedom.

“Ware,” Laramis said in a low voice, holding up his hand. “Enemies ahead.”

Bannor didn’t see anything, but he didn’t doubt the Justicar’s senses. Having fought at the man’s shoulder through more battles than he cared to think of, he’d learned the paladin could smell a fight a hundred paces away.

Kalindinai stiffened and broke away from him. Janai, sword readied stayed by her.

Bannor touched the Valkyrie’s shoulder. “How are you doing?” he asked in a whisper.

Kylie shook her head and ran a hand through her blonde hair. “The hall still it jumps in my vision. Get me to an opponent, I will find them by ear if I must.”

Vanidaar dropped back to the rear to protect Wren, while Laramis and Irodee crept forward, Euriel slightly behind them. Janai and the Queen kept near Bannor and Kylie.

He needed to rest. The astral traveling had left his body feeling as if he was trapped in tree sap. He couldn’t move quickly if he tried. He opened and closed Thor’s gauntlets. He still possessed the magical strength, and would bring it to bear if need be.

The group of them slid forward in silence, the cries of warriors in agony a distant resonance that rose and fell. Bannor rubbed his face with the back of his arm. His lips and cheeks felt numb. Every footstep sounded loud in the vast corridor. Dust and disuse had turned the massive structure into a foul smelling cavernous death trap of decaying tapestries, rotting wood, and crumbling walls. The fractured stone underfoot posed a hazard to the unwary, making stealth difficult and quick movement perilous.

With Kylie being unsteady he took extra care to guide her around the rough spots. The woman had leaned on him periodically. The Valkyrie might have weighed less if Odin had constructed her of rock. Apparently, part of what made the air maidens so durable was the density of their bodies. Kylie had to weigh close to thirty stone. It was good thing these warriors had magic wings. There certainly wasn’t any other way they could be light on their feet! If Kylie fell, it would make a crash audible hundred paces away!

Coming to a side hall, Laramis paused at point and held up a hand to bring the others to a halt. He leaned around the corner then leaned back toward them. He pointed to his eyes, then held up five fingers and then one; six enemies. He made a ring of his thumb and forefinger and held it up to his eye, then indicated the hallway. That meant sentries.

He slipped back, angling away from the intersecting hall and moving to the opposite side of the passage. Obviously, the paladin was hoping if they moved with enough care they might be able to slip past in poor light without being seen.

The chances were slim but if they could avoid a fight in their condition it was all for the best. He sent Irodee ahead first, though she was the biggest of them by far, the woman moved in whisper silence. Spreading her waist length dark hair around her shoulders and torso helped her to blend in the shadows.

Everyone held their breath as she crept forward across the brighter light of the intersecting hall. After she’d moved some ten paces it was obvious that she hadn’t been seen. Laramis gestured to the Queen and Janai, being Elves and light footed, they made little noise even in the worst conditions. Moments went by as the Queen and princess slid along the wall. Bannor felt his heart thumping with tension. After a few moments, it was certain they had crossed unobserved.

Laramis gestured to Bannor and he shook his head. He indicated Vanidaar with his burden of Wren. They should not be bringing up the rear with enemies possibly coming up from behind.

The paladin gritted his teeth and gestured to the red-haired wizard. The man padded forward hugging Wren’s body to his own. Bannor saw him close his eyes, and felt threads of Eternity ignite with power. Vanidaar and Wren both shimmered and turned translucent. Bannor could still see their outline, but the wall behind them was also visible through them as though being viewed through a pool of water. Cloaked by his Nola, the mage slipped across without incident.

Laramis looked to Bannor. He gestured the paladin ahead. He had the less than simple task of getting this lead footed Valkyrie across that space undetected. There was no way this woman could sneak. The ground shook when she walked. These warriors didn’t need stealth, little could hurt them, not even lightning from the sky.

He gestured everyone to continue. If they alerted these sentries best that everyone have a head start.

—You should go on without me,—Kylie said using mind-speak so as not to be heard.

—Sorry, I’m obligated,—he answered her.—I got you into this mess, and you’d never catch up stumbling around as you have been. You’re the toughest one here, they need you.—

She nodded.

They waited until the others were almost out of sight before starting across. He took an extra-moment to pull Kylie’s hair to one side, so that its shine didn’t attract attention.

Steeling himself, he led the Valkyrie across the area visible by the adjoining corridor. He glanced down that way and saw two warriors in armor leaning against a wall. Either man could see them without difficulty if they were looking directly down the hall, but they appeared to be conversing with one another.

Kylie did her best to move quietly which for her was no easy feat. He struggled to lead her across the most solid sections of the floor. After ten steps it looked like they might make it.

A flagstone that had held under his weight flipped up with a loud grating sound under Kylie’s mass. Bannor cursed under his breath as they both froze. He prayed they hadn’t heard… He cursed his foul luck as he heard footsteps starting down the hall. He didn’t want to leave Kylie because she still couldn’t see clearly. He shifted her away from the spot, hoping they might reach a corner before the sentries reached the end of the hall.

A yell behind them told Bannor they hadn’t made it. His stomach knotted and his heart started thumping. He wasn’t ready for a fight.

Kylie growled. “Are ze others far enough ahead?” She turned toward the sound. The way she narrowed her eyes told Bannor she still couldn’t see clearly.

He turned to watch the three sentinels dressed in the Hella’s green and black livery emerge from the hall. All of them wore heavy mail and helmets. He looked down at Thor’s gauntlets. Neither of he or Kylie possessed a weapon. “We better hold them as long as we can.”

The Valkyrie’s hands opened and closed as she listened for the on-coming footfalls. “You are a honorable man, Bannor. A pity Odin does not care about things such as these.”

“Pity,” he agreed. “I’ll slip them, you take them over the top.”

“Done,” the warrior conceded.

Bannor stepped toward the on-rushing warriors. He had no weapons, and his reflexes were eroded by fatigue. He possessed two advantages, experience and the iron gauntlets of Thor.

Two men came straight at him, sword points lowered. They weren’t interested in taking prisoners, just killing intruders. Bannor wanted one thing, to get back to his mate and child.

As the men charged, instead of guarding he hopped over their blades and drove his elbows into their backs with all his strength. Already off balance, the magical power behind his strikes knocked them reeling toward a waiting Kylie. Propelled forward with magical power neither could avoid the steel hard fists that she thrust into their guts to halt their progress. With cries of pain and surprise, both armored warriors folded around her arms like pie dough. Gripping them, she spun and hurled them into the rock wall with a crash of impacting metal and breaking bones.

The last man didn’t fall for the trick, he came up short and sliced at Bannor’s head.

Bannor ducked and stepped back. The warrior stepped forward and lunged. Bannor sidestepped the blade, grabbed it low on the tang, and jerked the huge sentinel close. Being head and shoulders taller than Bannor, the man obviously thought he’d committed a tactical error. He let go the blade and clamped both hands around Bannor’s neck.

Bannor felt the bruising pain as the bigger man’s fingers squeezed, even as he locked Thor’s gauntlets around his enemy’s throat. Prickly face set, square yellow teeth gritted, his red-rimmed eyes wide in triumph, the warrior realized his mistake a heartbeat too late.

Bannor shoved away the man’s limp body. It thudded to the floor with a clatter of armor. His stomach churned. He hated war—hated killing. He snatched up two weapons, giving one to Kylie. “There were six in that hall. The others will be on us any moment.”

He took her hand and the two of them ran after the others. Less than half a breath passed before he heard the outcry of the guards discovering their fallen comrades.

“That was well done back there,” Kylie remarked, glancing back.

“Imminent death inspires me,” he responded. “I only have one skin, and it heals really slow.”

“If you were ze Valkyrie, you wouldn’t have zat problem.”

He glanced up at the huge woman. “If I was Valkyrie, Odin wouldn’t be chasing me all over the realm.”

The big woman snorted. “No, just around eez bed chamber.”

Bannor bet there was a story behind that statement.

How would he get their group out of Niflheim?

Leading Kylie at a full run, they rushed down two long halls, and climbed up short flight of stairs. If he recalled right, that only put them one level below the surface. The outside lay only a few stone’s throws from here. Burdened by their heavy armor, the guards didn’t sound as if they were catching up. The initial rush of excitement brought on by the fight ebbed, and Bannor felt himself slow down.

Being this close to the exit gave him hope that they’d bought the group the time they needed to find some temporary refuge to regain some strength. They turned a corner and headed up a long slanting hall. The group must have run the whole way because there were no signs of anyone. He hoped something hadn’t happened and they weren’t chasing shadows.

The incline leveled off into an arched hall some hundred paces long. The overpowering odor of sulfur made his eyes water. Much of the roof had collapsed and he saw sections of the ash gray sky of Niflheim cut through with tendrils of black smoke. At the far end, stairs led into a cone of brighter light. The outside! He saw what looked like Vanidaar, with Wren in his arms heading up the steps. Bannor put on a burst of speed powered by the hope that they’d get out of this place without another fight.

With Kylie behind him they hit the bottom of the stairs and almost collided with the others as they were retreating back. A single large figure stood framed in the brighter light at the top. Euriel, Laramis and Irodee back-pedaled as the figure stepped down.

He took a few steps up to see what had stopped them and saw a woman wearing a green gown trimmed in gray. As she stepped forward Bannor saw that half her face looked white as snow, while the other half appeared cast in shadow. She seemed to recognize him immediately. She raised a taloned hand, the eye in the dark side of her face glowed red. “Welcome to my domain, Garmtur,” she said in a voice that made the walls tremble. “Welcome to Hel.”

Not every pantheon lord is evil, conceited, selfish, arrogant, and aggressive, but it’s almost certain that three out of those five personality traits will apply.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 27
Hella’s Confession

« ^ »

Bannor stared up the steps at the goddess of Niflheim; the keeper of Hel. A scent like that of dying flowers hung in the air, and the wind swirling around the stairwell bit at his face with icy teeth. He felt Kylie behind him, so close her breath tickled the back of his neck. Laramis, Irodee, and Euriel after having initially recoiled a few steps stood their ground. The only way out was through the goddess and no-one would return to their cells without being dead first. Kalindinai and Janai stood shoulder-to-shoulder, mother and daughter, most of the fight had been drained from them, but they would stand proud regardless. Vanidaar stood at the back of the group shielding his daughter. Bannor felt the wizard’s ties to eternity energizing, he was prepared to use every iota of his savant powers.

Hella pulled a clawed hand through her hair, and smoothed a wrinkle from the shimmering green cloth that clung to her body. The glowing red eye in the shadowed portion of her face narrowed. She took another step toward the group.

Bannor sensed the power of this creature. She didn’t have Loki’s tremendous magic, or Idun’s massive energies, but she possessed more than enough potential to crush any one of them.

Euriel tensed, ready to spring. Bannor threw out a hand to signal her to stop. The woman paused. If they instigated the fight, there would be no chance of escape.

Hella also saw Euriel’s readiness to do battle. Her voice rolled over them, making the stones hum. “Euriel, attack me and I shall be forced to harm you further. It is no longer to my benefit to punish you.” Her gaze swung back to Bannor. He felt a queasiness go through his stomach. “The Garmtur is the one who interests me. The very one Odin promised would not confront me. Yet, I find the god killer at arm’s length.”

“We will not be imprisoned again,” Euriel growled.

Hella’s attention swung back to Idun’s daughter. Her voice hardened. The structure shuddered with each hard inflexion. “Then I suggest you leave quickly. Odin bid me punish you and your child. That I have done. He bid me to keep you here. In that, I complied as well. Aside from taking reasonable precautions, he made no mention of preventing your escape, or of confronting the Garmtur. The letter of my obligations are fulfilled. Be gone.”

“Lady, you are letting us go?” Laramis asked.

“He did not task me with preventing your escape,” Hella responded. “Move smartly, lest I change my mind.” She pointed out into the open was with a clawed finger. Wind whipped through her hair making it look like a nest of striking snakes. “Go. All of you except the Garmtur. He stays.”

Her attention came back to him. “Stay willingly and I guarantee their safe passage from Niflheim.”

Bannor’s chest tightened. If the others escaped, it was a good trade. Laramis and Irodee had a child at home. A husband waited for Kalindinai, and a grandchild was on the way. Wren would die if kept any longer. He saw no better alternative. Perhaps he’d get a chance to escape later. “Your guarantee? How much of a guarantee?”

Hella raised an eyebrow. The corner of her mouth quirked. “You have my promise that neither I nor my minions will follow or harm them in any way.”

Bannor stared at her. “And you won’t help Odin find them either?”

The goddess frowned. “My word that I will not assist Odin or his factors in their recovery.” Hella raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain my oath is worth anything, Garmtur?”

“You always keep to the letter of your bargains.”

The goddess nodded. “So I do.” She bowed her head. “Then we have a bargain. Your presence for their safety.” She raised her chin. “Come to me, Garmtur.”

He glanced at the others. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes as he trudged up the steps. His legs felt heavy. He glanced back to Kalindinai. Bannor considered asking the Queen to tell Sarai he loved her, but thought better of it. No sense in upsetting the others. Every fiber of him wanted to go back to Sarai, but this way, he gave them a chance, where otherwise they had none.

Euriel caught Bannor’s eye. She fixed him with a stern expression. No-one would try to talk him out of it. They all knew him well enough to know he’d made up his mind. He sensed that Hella wasn’t after the Garmtur. What did he have besides the Garmtur that a goddess would want?

He reached the step where Hella stood. From that vantage, he saw out across the mist and smoke shrouded land of Niflheim. The broken terrain slanted down into the valley, becoming a winding maze of boulders before becoming lost in the shimmering fog.

The goddess placed a clawed hand on Bannor’s shoulder. Her skin felt clammy and cold, and he felt those sharp nails bite into his skin. The scent of dying flowers grew strong.

Hella stared down to Laramis, Irodee, and Euriel. Her voice dropped a notch. “Go now. Do not tarry.”

Laramis was the first to head up the steps, pulling Irodee with him. “Bannor, are you sure man?”

He took off his pack and held it out to the Justicar. “Take this, there’s things inside that will help all of you. You know you’d do the same thing. Protect my family.”

The man took the pack with a frown and pulled at his mustache. “Aye, I would at that.” Laramis glanced up at Irodee. The huge Myrmigyne stared at Hella, dark eyes flashing. Bannor had seen the woman face some of the most awful things imaginable without hesitation. She looked from the goddess to Bannor and drew a breath. She gripped Laramis’ shoulder. The paladin touched her hand. “Both of us promise to care for your kin.”

They trudged down the slope away from Hella, not looking back. Euriel scowled at Hella. Face hard, she pointed at Bannor. “We’ll talk later.”

Hella raised an eyebrow.

Bannor nodded, though he wasn’t certain if he would be getting himself out of this predicament the way he did the last time.

“I owe you for what you did to Liandra,” Euriel snarled.

Hella shrugged. “I carried out the all-father’s orders. Take it up with him. Leave.”

“I shall.” Euriel moved, but her flinty blue eyes stayed trained on Hella the whole way. Kalindinai and Janai stayed to the far side of the stairwell. Both elves met his gaze. The Queen mouthed the words ‘thank you’. Kylie helped Vanidaar up the steps after them. The Valkyrie looked more steady on her feet now.

“Kylindyria,” Hella asked with a smile. “Where are your wings, my child?”

The Valkyrie frowned at her. She stayed between the goddess and Vanidaar, moving them along. The whole group staggered down the incline toward the mists and smoke. Bannor’s stomach tightened. He looked to the clawed hand gripping his shoulder.

“If Wren dies, Idun will kill you,” Bannor said.

“Garmtur,” the goddess said in a hard tone. The red eye in the dark half of her face sparked. “If I wanted Euriel’s brat dead, that is what she would be. Odin was explicit in his requirements. The Allfather plays a dangerous game. I suspect he shall soon get some surprises.”

“Big ones,” Bannor agreed. He drew a breath, seeing Laramis and Irodee looking back from the edge of the mists. Kalindinai, Janai and the others were speaking together. Euriel snapped something he didn’t make out, and pushed the others ahead. One by one, they disappeared into the fog.

Bannor’s stomach tightened, and felt abruptly alone. The goddess’ hand felt heavy on his shoulder. He swallowed. “Now, what?”

“What indeed,” Hella replied. “I wager the biggest surprise for Odin, will be me having you.”

“So, then you’ll turn me over to him?”

The goddess snorted. “I think not.” She gestured. Lightning rasped from her fingertips, lacing the area in front of them. With a hiss, the air split apart, the edges curling back like burned parchment from a flame. Through the gap, Bannor saw a chamber and things that sparkled within. Hella stepped through, pulling him with her. When he resisted, he found that the creature had imbedded her talons in his shoulder. Her strength proved more than enough to yank him forward.

A twisting sensation shot through his insides. He smelled a sharp acrid scent that stung his nostrils as he took a single stride that seemed leagues long. He emerged on the other side, lungs tight as though coming up from a great depth. The atmosphere crackled and gave up his body reluctantly, making sucking noises as he stepped clear of the portal. The opening spiraled shut with a thump of rushing air. Hella let go and walked away from him.

He guessed his new surroundings to be a personal chamber of some kind. There were the common amenities, bed, desk, and vanity. The furnishings all looked to be a half size larger than normal, each item being extremely ornate, made with rare woods, jewels, and precious metals. The room didn’t look like a prison, and he saw none of the servants that a god or goddess would keep in attendance. Nothing he saw provided any more clues as to what she might want. He steeled himself. He already missed Sarai.

Across the chamber, Hella settled on a hassock in front of a mirrored vanity. She studied herself in the mirror. As he checked around him he realized there were no doors or windows. His heart sped. He was sealed in with her.

She continued looking in the mirror. Her voice softened from its flinty tones to a more wistful note. “Garmtur, did you know we were related?”

“Excuse?” He saw her intent expression reflected in the mirror. Her red eye blinked. “Related how?” he asked.

“Insanity had made Hecate forget her origins and the purpose for which she was intended. Now, I remember.”

“She wanted to join with me as her alpha, even though it was impossible. She wanted me to change her so we could join,” he said. “I learned changing her meant throwing off some of the major pillars of the cosmos.”

“Indeed. She wasn’t meant to change. In fact, change is the antithesis of the pantheon lords. If they changed, they could no longer fulfill their purpose. Knowing what I know now, I laugh at the irony.”

“What? You mean the ability to join with their savant alphas?”

Hella raised an eyebrow. “You know of this? Interesting…” Her voice trailed off. “It is something I did not—or perhaps forgot—I do not know. I persuaded the information from Liandra. She knew the origin of the gods. She knew why we came to be and for what purpose.”

Where was she going with all of this? Why torture Wren for that information? From what he learned from Hecate, the pantheon lords deliberately forgot their origins.

The goddess put a hand to her shadowy cheek. “Do you know what I am, Garmtur?”

He shook his head.

“I am an empty vessel; a shell. The first ones never intended me to be a thinking creature. I am a body in search of tao.”

Feeling even more uneasy, Bannor drew a breath. So, unlike her brothers and sisters Hella had accepted the truth of what she was. So where did that get them?

“I guess then you find it kind of ironic the way your brothers and sisters have been hunting down the Ka’Amok and succorunding them. Destroying the only chances they have of evolving.”

Hella snorted and shook her head. “It is a fine jest is it not? Such brilliant creatures being so blind. Eons of chasing the power of the first ones and never once realizing the truth. The biggest irony is that in order to regain that legacy, we must immolate ourselves.”

Immolate? What did she mean? “All right, we both know the secret of the pantheon lords and the savants. I’m not your alpha, so what do you want with me?”

“I intend to become a first one. You will use the Garmtur to find my tao.”

The first ones? You’re asking the wrong person. Wren is the expert. I even heard a story that she even became one for a brief time. All I know is that they were Gaea’s children, they were hideously powerful and liked to kill one another. For some reason, that has yet to be explained to me, they split themselves into two parts—a ‘spiritual’ part and a ‘physical’ part. We savants are the spirits or alphas, the pantheon lords are the physical aspect … the betas. I don’t recall what the significance was beyond that…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 28
Legacy of the First Ones

« ^ »

Bannor stood in the personal chambers belonging to Hella of Niflheim, the goddess of the dead. She had let Wren, Kalindinai and the others go free on the condition that he remain in Niflheim willingly. After his friends vanished into the mists, Hella brought the two of them through a magical gateway into this door-less, windowless room. Once inside, she had sat upon a satin hassock and examined herself in a mirror. As she did so, the goddess spoke to him. She told him something he had discerned through the power of the Garmtur, the relationship of the pantheon lords to the Ka’Amok, the savants. That each lord had a matching savant somewhere in the cosmos, and that together they were the two separated halves of a first one.

After revealing her knowledge of this secret, she informed him that he would help her to achieve this transformation. The goddess of the dead, the same creature that imprisoned and tortured his friends at Odin’s behest, wanted him to assist her in transcending immortality—to evolve into something greater than a god.

Bannor felt acutely aware of the absolute silence around them, the stillness of the atmosphere and the closed-in sense of being encased in solid rock. The smell of thunder-struck air lingered, mingled with the scent of flowers. Gems and mirror polished metal winked in the steady reddish light that suffused the area with its few but elaborate amenities of bed, bureau, vanity, desk and chairs.

Hella had altered her shape from the clawed, half-black half-white apparition to a façade that resembled an elf more than any other race that Bannor could think of. She now gazed at him with over-sized silver eyes, tilted and wide-set in a long smooth-cheeked face. A jeweled platinum tiara rested above her high forehead, pinning back a cascade of wavy white hair so fine it appeared to be layers of glistening clouds tumbling down over her shoulders. The change had diminished her size to that of an average mortal woman with a slight build, narrow hips and long legs. In another situation, he might have been able to appreciate the creature’s alien beauty, but this was a god. Deities wore forms the way mortals wore clothes. He wondered if she even knew her true appearance.

The silence went on. Hella studied him with an unreadable expression. Bannor couldn’t imagine what she might be thinking. He also had no response to her outrageous proposition.

She folded her arms and crossed her legs. She gestured to a chair a few paces from him. “Take a seat, Garmtur. It appears you will be here a while.”

That’s what he was afraid of. Bannor felt hesitant to cooperate with Hella in any fashion, but he also didn’t want to needlessly antagonize her. He stepped to where she indicated and settled on the edge of the soft cushion. Bannor scanned the room again, certain as ever there were no ways out except by magical means. He drew a breath, forcing down the panicked sense of being trapped. His mind flickered to Sarai. He hoped she was okay. No doubt she was concerned about his disappearance. He could only hope Kylie would astral travel back to the others to inform them of what had happened.

Hella tilted her head, smoothing a wispy eyebrow with a slender finger. “You seem—pensive.”

He raised his gaze to meet hers. “Pardon me, but you are the goddess of the dead. You may not look like a nightmare right now, but your threads show me your true nature.”

She leaned back and gave him a sardonic smile. “There is that I suppose.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “This is no easier for me. I have just locked myself in tiny space with a savant capable of destroying me.”

Bannor pulled at his tunic. “Given my condition, one would consider the odds in your favor.”

She rose and gestured to the small chamber. “If I were planning to brace you, this would not be the place I would choose.” She took a few steps and dropped onto the bed. She pulled a pillow to up under her arm-pits and studied him with her head propped on one fist. “I would not choose this form for combat.”

He swallowed. “No. Hecate used a shape like that to try to charm me.”

Hella sighed, eyelids fluttering. “It seems she has made you mistrust immortals and everything they do.”

“Every god of I’ve ever dealt with has tried to hurt or coerce me. Why should I think you’d be any different?” He took a breath. “Your people have no respect for life, and anyone unwilling to grant your whims is slain. Forgive me if I’m—pensive—around your kind.”

The goddess nodded. “I grant the reputation is well earned. However, those concerns are unproductive.”

He stared at her. “Hella, you seem far too rational to think for an instant that I’d cooperate. I’m not helping a death goddess become the one of the most powerful beings in the universe.”

She rolled over, swung her legs over the edge of the bed and leaned back on her arms. “First, I am not a ‘death goddess’. I am Odin’s turn-key. I merely administrate Niflheim and its adjoining realms. Hel is his design, not mine.” She sighed. “Second, I am not asking you to make a despot into a bigger one. The creature you see before you—myself—will be un-made by this process.”

Bannor rose from the chair, the nervous energy rushing through his body too much to contain. “I find that hard to believe. After hundreds of millennia of life, you’ve just decided you don’t want to be anymore?”

She laughed. It sounded forced and unnatural. “Everyone retires eventually, Garmtur. The creature that takes my place will have a mortal’s sensibilities and regard for life. I imagine you would prefer that to the callous creature that I am.”

“If that’s so, I’d be concerned with a mortal’s fallibility; their ability to be corrupted. I know what that kind of power is doing to my wife.”

Hella sat up. “Ah, the little mock immortal. My father Loki was greatly upset by her presumption to subvert divinity.”

He turned to focus on Hella. “He told you that?”

“He mentioned the baby—your baby. He saw her intentions in her thoughts.”

A cold rush went through him. “Which is?”

“The same as what I propose; returning a first one to the universe.”

He blinked. “I don’t understand.” Maybe he didn’t want to.

She shook her head, her expression one of forced tolerance. “When my body joins with the flesh of my tao mate, that joining results in a single creature—a first one. I believe your mate intuited, and correctly so, that the traits of a savant could be combined with those of an immortal. Your seed carries the essence of your tao. While empowered by Idun’s fruit and a flux stone her seed carries an immortal’s essence. She seeks to do by natural coupling, what I propose to do by binding my flesh to the Ka’Amok who hosts my tao.” Hella pushed a hand through her hair. “Father saw that she had succeeded in creating a progeny greater than the sum of its parts. Alas, he failed to perceive the true nature of what she bears. It is a good thing you distracted him. He would have killed her to prevent her issue from becoming.”

Bannor’s mind whirled, but he focused on one thing. “Hella, do you think Loki might return to kill her?”

Hella shrugged. “The eons have not been kind to Father. You may have noticed, he is less than—stable.”

“It crossed my mind.”

“If he decides that she poses a threat, then he will destroy her.”

Bannor’s stomach tightened. “Do you think there’s a good chance he will?”

She shrugged again. “The fact that he recalled the incident is a bad sign. Little holds his attention for long. He asked me what I knew of Odin’s plans for your people. He also asked if Odin knew that Idun had been bestowing immortality upon her allies.”

“Does Odin know?”

“He may by now, but not from my lips.”

Bannor clenched his fists. The last thing they needed was both Odin and Loki bent on their destruction. What had Sarai been thinking? He stopped himself, he knew exactly what she planned. She knew her immortal powers were temporary, but they couldn’t be removed from a child born to them. He wondered if she considered what consequences there might be to a mother carrying such a child? Even if she did bring the baby to term, how would they nurture a youngster that would grow into a god? Of course, those questions were moot if they didn’t live through what Odin planned, or Loki’s return. It was a huge mess that he saw no way to unravel. He couldn’t even get out of this room.

“You know,” Hella said. “Though he does not have Odin’s power, my Father’s craft makes him more dangerous. You will need an ally who understands him. Someone with his level of power.” She paused. “I can be that ally.”

Bannor closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He smelled the bait, knew it for what it was, but saw few options. He simply didn’t know what the truth was.

“Okay, I believe what you’re saying. How can I trust you about the rest? If I’m wrong, the consequences are…” He didn’t even want to think about the consequences. Hecate came within a breath of destroying his entire world. What could Hella do with the power of a first one?

The goddess raised her chin. “Read my mind, I shall open myself to you.”

Bannor frowned. “I can’t. I only have that ability with other savants.”

Hella closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “Garmtur, how did you survive this long being so dense? You have that ability with other savants, yes? If savants and immortals are two separate halves of the same race, please tell me you understand the significance of that.”

He grimaced and nodded. “That anything that applies to a savant would apply to a pantheon lord as well.”

“Thank you.” She shook her head. “If you will be the father of my child, I should like to think of you as competent.”

His eyes widened. “Your what? Wait now, what’s this about a child?”

Hella winced and rose from the bed. She started to speak, then stopped herself. She started again in a low, deliberate tone. “Bannor, I spoke in metaphor. When I am reborn, you will be my caretaker and responsible for me. It will fall to you to ensure my proper development. Can you describe that role as anything else other than that of a father or mother?”

Bannor sagged. What surprised him was Hella’s patience. She was obviously restraining herself. In a way, that showed her determination to make this work. He needed to stop jumping at shadows and determine with some certainty whether she was ally or enemy. “All right, let’s do this. If it’s true, then…” He paused feeling a queasy sensation in his stomach. “Then I guess we can broach the next part.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Good.” She held out her hand. “I will make this easy for you.”

He nerved himself. There were so many ways she could fool or trick him. Wren said that Hella had been trying to get information from her. This could be the same. He focused, and stepped forward to take her hand.

His fingers paused, still not touching her.

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Trust is a wonderful thing isn’t it?” she asked.

“When you have it.”

Her voice stayed firm, silvery eyes never leaving his. “Your friends and your mate need you. You need my help. To get me, you have to cooperate.”

Heart pounding, Bannor steeled himself and took her hand. Her skin felt warm and dry, the flesh beneath it hard. A shock like lightning jumped through his body, it didn’t hurt, but every muscle tensed.

In his mind, it started as a red dot in his vision. The dot rushed up to meet him, growing larger until it engulfed him in an entire vista of sight and sound. He saw the room, himself, the mountain beneath which they stood, and all of Niflheim’s vast expanse.

The clarity of all these sights struck him. This was Hella’s awareness spread across the realm. In the midst of it all, he felt her heart beating, lungs taking air, and the blood pumping through her veins. Pictures, sights, sounds, and smells whirled through him like a tornado. Like a river, thoughts flooded through him. Deeply submerged, he tasted the metallic hint of fear, the fear of failure, of death, and of living. He sensed regret, longing, and many other emotions. It was easy to cast the immortals as creatures without feelings that sought only power and destruction. Hella revealed to him a complex being seeking out its true nature, knowing it, and desiring to embrace that destiny even if it meant discorporation.

So much rushed through him, he could only grasp a tiny fraction of it. When Hella drew back from him moments later, he came away with knowing only one thing for certain.

His stomach churned, the experience left him feeling cold and dizzy. He tried to speak and choked. Cleared his throat and tried again. “You told the truth.”

She nodded. “I did.”

Bannor calmed himself, trying to think clearly. “Before we consider finding your tao mate, shouldn’t we discuss what will happen when the two of you join?”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Huh? Why not?”

She pushed a hand through her hair. “Because I have no idea what will happen. That will be your problem.”

Now, she was sounding like a goddess again.

“A guess? Will this person just emerge as a fully realized first one, or will they have to start over?”

“That depends on if they retain any of my memories, and whether my flux stone still works. If we were the first generation of our two kinds we would likely merge from the transformation as a fully empowered first one. Neither of us will be, so I assume that much of it will need to be relearned.” She shrugged. “I guess that gives you something to do as a mentor.”

Bannor hated knowing so little. It had been like that when he altered Wren’s power. He guessed he have to adapt as things developed. He was growing used to that. He hoped he was making the right decision. Doubt still nagged at the back of his mind like a shadow.

“All right, tell me what I need to do.”

~*~

The process took much longer than Bannor expected, and he had to become far more intimate with Hella’s thoughts than he wanted to be. She might not be as evil as he first made out, but she still harbored some dark and ugly instincts. He had to carefully peel away her threads layer by layer, to get to her core pattern, the mortise that her tao mate would unlock. By knowing that pattern, he could determine its complement. He knew for certain by now that Hella was committed. Idun revealed herself to him out of desperation. Hella would have to be as desperate or merely that far gone to let him know her so intimately. That knowledge made it possible to control or destroy her.

He stretched his awareness out to the dozens of savants linked by eternity. One by one, he eliminated patterns that did not match. After what seemed an agonizing length of time, he had narrowed down the choices as much as he could.

“I see three possibilities,” he determined.

Hella stared at him. The goddess looked pale. Making herself vulnerable to his scrutiny had taken a great deal of self-control on her part. “Three!? You must be mistaken.”

“I don’t think so,” he answered. “Like you said, you’re both generations away from the original patterns you represented. I guess there’s been some drift in your hereditary traits. There is no exact match.”

“But it must be an exact match,” she insisted, her expression stiff and growing anxious. “We don’t know what will happen if it isn’t!”

Bannor shook his head. “No, Hella, we don’t. Guess you get to share some indecision right along with me. I will show you the patterns. You get to choose.”

The goddess frowned, but nodded.

~*~

A short time later, Bannor found himself standing in what looked like an alley, strange buildings casting him in shadow. The smell of old refuse, spoiled fruit, and stagnant water hung heavy in the air. He heard the clopping of horse hooves on cobbles, the cry of hawkers, and the drone of people talking. He could be anywhere in the universe, anywhere but home. The languages that he heard were not his own.

Hella stood behind him, her skin glowing faintly in shadows. For a goddess, tracing the pattern to its source had been a matter of a moment’s concentration. Now that they were on the trail of this person, Bannor still wasn’t sure what they would tell this person.

Oh, by the way, he rehearsed in his head, we want to turn you into a god.

He noticed signs of recent passage in the dirt ahead of him, and followed the tracks. “This person will think I’m insane,” he told Hella as he moved.

“We shall have to convince them of our good intentions,” Hella whispered, falling in step behind him.

Bannor had taken only a half dozen steps when he heard a woman scream. He leaned into a run as he heard nasty male laughter, and boots on dirt at full sprint.

He dashed around a corner in time to see figures disappearing around the next turn. He heard the woman’s yells retreating down the alley and redoubled his efforts to catch up.

The woman’s yells became a scream of panic, then rapid pleas in response to the same male growls. Bannor stepped into the space just as two men were pinning a young woman to the ground. A third man was leaning over her, his intent clear in his leering expression.

Bannor strode forward. As he did so, he felt a twinge in the back of his head. One of the four was definitely a savant. He wagered it would be the one on the bottom. That seemed how savant luck ran.

“Travel to distant lands,” he mumbled to himself. “Meet new people, and give them a punch in the face.” For nearly a decade, he policed ruffians like these three in towns throughout western Ivaneth. They all had a few things in common: they weren’t very bright, they were cowards, and—

He waved a hand in front of his face, “whew!”

They all stank.

The would-be rapist nearest him rose and sent a punch whistling at his throat. Bannor, still empowered by Thor’s gauntlets jerked him off balance and slammed him into the wall. He kicked the other man holding the woman, sending him tumbling into a refuse heap. The last man, suddenly bereft of his allies reeled backward as the woman planted a boot in his face, and thrust him away.

Tattered auburn hair fell about her frightened squarish features. She stared at Bannor with wide green eyes. He felt her threads to eternity energizing.

He held out a hand. “Calm—calm—I don’t mean you…” He was about to say ‘harm’ as some invisible force slammed him backward into blackness.

When I first met Daena Sheento she annoyed me to no end, probably because we were so much alike.

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 29
The Unwanted Gift

« ^ »

Lying on his back, Bannor opened his eyes. Red stone walls framed his view of a blue-gray sky streaked with clouds. His head felt as though it had been turned inside out. He smelled stagnant water, garbage, and somewhere nearby—a body that hadn’t washed in a long time. His flesh felt electrified. A dog barked a few alleys away, and the sound of someone thumping a rug echoed on the bricks. How did he get on the ground? He didn’t recall lying down, especially with an unwashed person close by.

He recalled being ahead of Hella. That he roughed up a couple thugs trying to rape a young woman. He reached out to help the auburn-haired girl speaking in what he thought had been a calm voice. Then something hit him—hard.

Wincing, he struggled and finally managed to get his arm to shift. It felt as if demons were chewing on him.

“Garmtur,” a deep feminine voice asked. “Are you intact?” Hella’s thrumming voice was unmistakable.

He groaned. “Don’t know. Feels like a rhinotaur stomped on me.”

“It looked as though you were kicked by one,” the goddess observed. “That must have been painful.”

“It was,” he pushed himself to sit up, fell back and hit his head. “Ow! I think I need assistance.”

She pulled him to a sitting position.

He shook his head and glanced around, not seeing the young savant. He looked into Hella’s elfin face, silver hair falling down around her shoulders. The goddess’ lips were pressed together and she wore a tight expression.

“What happened to the girl?”

“She ran off,” she answered. “I am—unpracticed—at these things. When I failed to calm her, I felt it best not to agitate the child further by detaining her.” She assisted Bannor to his feet. He stayed upright with some effort. “Tracing her now will not be difficult.” She scanned the dim alley. Her brow furrowed and she pushed a hand through her silver hair. “Come. She is this way.”

He took a few unsteady steps and stopped as dizziness threatened to knock him down.

Hella sighed. “You may lean on me for support.” She took his arm. “I do not wish further delays.”

The goddess pulled him down the alley. His head cleared as they walked. He wondered what Sarai was doing right now, whether she was all right. Hella’s talk of Loki going after her had him worried. He thought about Euriel, Wren and the others. Did they make it out of Niflheim? Did Kylie contact Sarai, so King T’Evagduran would know about the escape from Niflheim? He wished Hella hadn’t coerced him into this madness. His oath bound and committed him to this task. After seeing Hella’s tao-bearer a new concern had grown in his mind. A barely grown girl frightened of her own shadow was not the proper recipient for an immortal’s power. He hoped the goddess would see that and reconsider.

Child or not, she could already strike with devastating force. His resistance to the energies of Eternity did little to blunt whatever she blasted him with. He thanked his luck that she hadn’t really focused, she’d only lashed out defensively.

Bannor felt a tingle of unease rush through him as he realized they were headed toward a heavily trafficked street. The buildings of this unknown place looked much like the other large cities he’d been to. A hodgepodge of wood and stone buildings crammed shoulder to shoulder to form a maze of avenues and alleyways. On the street, a hubbub of talk, jangling carts, and horse hooves on cobbles flooded the atmosphere.

Hella shouldered her way onto the crowded walk. Men and women stopped and stared as she passed. Bannor stayed with her, heart beating fast. To meet her tao-bearer, the goddess chose a shape that would not appear intimidating or threatening. However, she remained so striking that even the conservative dark clothing she wore did little to conceal her beauty. As people stopped and goggled, they had no idea they were staring at a being capable of annihilating the entire city.

She looked up at him. “What bothers you now, Garmtur? You are acting pensive again.”

“These crowds bother me,” he answered.

She stepped off the walk and went around a cart where a man was hawking bronze cookware. “This appears typical for a community of this size.” A broad shouldered man, probably a smith, was leaned over in the walkway examining a vendor’s wares. The fellow’s size and bulk made him look like a wall.

Hella shoved him aside as she might a folding door. The man let out a startled gasp as he was splayed up against the side of the wagon. He fell on his buttocks in the walkway behind them too stunned to even curse.

The goddess looked back then turned glinting silver eyes on Bannor. “Ah, I see. You worry I will slay these creatures?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She turned onto a less crowded side-street. “These mortals are nothing to you. This is not even your birth world.”

“It’s not logical. We’re taught that killing is wrong.”

She shook her head, turning to slip past a group of people who stopped their conversation to watch her pass. “For a race that abhors murder, you do a lot of it. Niflheim is filled with men obsessed with distinguishing themselves as killers.”

Bannor sighed. He sniffed, smelling the pungency of frying seedcakes. His mouth watered, he hadn’t eaten in some time. “I can’t make excuses for those people.” They detoured around a wagon transporting herd animals. He avoided a pile of something green with insects buzzing around it. “I hate killing. I fight when I have no choice. I’m a good fighter because I’m forced all the time.”

“A warrior need not make excuses for making war.” Hella grimaced and waved her hand in front of her face. “Don’t know how you creatures endure such horrible odors.” She turned between two huge wagons loaded with supplies. The space between them was narrow and she parted them the way she might a pair of curtains. The sudden shift startled the owners and frightened the two animals.

A bald brute of man standing on the walk, yelled something. Hella continued into the alley beyond the wagons. Forced to go directly behind her, Bannor didn’t have to time to intercept the hulking fellow as he stormed toward the death goddess a hand extended to grab her.

Bannor yelled a warning. Hella never even glanced over. As he touched her arm, she thrust a palm into his face, driving him into the alley wall with a crunch. She walked on. The man slid down the wall clutching his head. He snarled and started to rise. Bannor put a foot on his shoulder and shoved him back down. He pointed at him and shook his head. A little bit harder and she would have shoved him through the wall. On a second encounter, she might. Once certain the man wouldn’t pursue, he caught up with Hella.

She looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. “You need not worry, I was not going to kill him. I should have though—disgusting creature.”

If they went much further in this place, somebody would end up dead. What if the young savant didn’t want to cooperate? He would understand the girl being afraid. What would he do then? Fight Hella? His stomach tightened. The battle might kill half this city.

“Is the girl close?” he asked.

“She has been moving,” Hella answered. “She is stopped now. I sense many mortals in the vicinity; probably a public domicile of some kind.”

“Please,” Bannor asked. “Let’s not cause too much of a commotion.”

“Garmtur, for your sake, I am tolerating these delays. She will accept the joining. Those who attempt to get between us will get one warning.” She stopped with fists on hips and leveled silver eyes on him. “Understand?”

He nodded.

They continued around two more turns before arriving in front of a large multi-story brick inn. The words on the sign were indecipherable, but a picture of a spike-tailed wyvern with spread wings decorated the marquee.

Hella marched straight in, Bannor pursuing. The smoky commons was crammed with patrons eating and drinking. Large roasts sizzled over two large fire pits and several maids with braided hair and red aprons were distributing plates and mugs of ale to the crowd. The din of plates and mugs clinking, boisterous talk, and the music of several minstrels in one corner made his bones vibrate. Smelling the meat and baking bread made Bannor’s stomach growl again. He hoped he could eat soon. He’d exerted a lot of energy recently.

As Hella walked across the chamber, she sliced through the conversations like a giant knife, quieting every voice in the place. Bannor stayed close, frowning at anyone that even flinched toward the goddess.

On the far side of the room, Hella pointed up. “She is on the level immediately above.”

Bannor indicated the stairwell. The goddess nodded and swayed up the steps. Being objective, he had to admit she was easy on the eyes. He simply couldn’t enjoy it knowing that shell housed a creature of such destructive power.

In the hall above, Hella moved briskly past six doors, and stopped at the seventh. She started to open the door and Bannor grabbed her hand. “Wait.”

Hella scowled at him and he abruptly let go.

“What?”

He gestured her to come away from the door so they wouldn’t be overheard. “You need to speak her language. If we use mindspeak, it will frighten her. Go slow and she’ll be easier to persuade. Be patient with her like you were with me.”

The goddess sighed. “You make sense, Garmtur.” She stared back at the door. “Adopting her language will not be pleasant for you.”

He frowned. “For me? I—”

She overrode him. “You must help me convince her.”

He closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. No doubt Hella was going to somehow shove the woman’s language into his head. He drew a breath. “Okay—how unpleasant?”

Hella stared in the direction of the room. She didn’t answer.

“Hella?”

The goddess turned to him, silver eyes glowing brightly. Startled, he stepped back. The light in her eyes became beams that struck him in the face. He staggered against the wall as hot tingles raced through him. The hallway spun. Images surfed through his mind, resounding, echoing, tumbling over one another. Voices thundered incoherently in his ears. Covering his ears did nothing to block the mental cacophony. He fell against the wall and slid down, unable to even think in the bombardment.

Hella’s thought pierced the confusion.—The pain will go.—

His vision flickered. A pulsation hummed in his skull. As she promised, the agony shortly diminished to a level tears weren’t pouring down his face. Breathing heavily through gritted teeth, he said, “Couldn’t you have warned…” He trailed off looking at her flat expression. He shook his head. He swore for a moment something rattled. “I hope that worked. No way am I doing it again.”

Hella scrutinized him. “The process succeeded. It is fortunate that savants and immortals can mind-link. Otherwise, you would have been harmed.” She raised an eyebrow. “You have the language now. Can we proceed?”

He rubbed his skull. It felt ready to split. Groaning, he rose, the pain making him dizzy. “There must be a better way to learn a language.”

“Yes, it’s called mindspeak,” Hella growled. “Leave us to this task.”

She returned to the door. Bannor followed, wiping at his watering eyes. He’d only now shaken off the affects of the girl’s savant power. Now, Hella turned his brain inside out!

He stopped the goddess again when she started to open the door.

She glared at him. “What now?”

He met her frown with one of his own. “Ever hear of knocking?”

The goddess gave him a blank stare.

He rapped on the door. The noise caused some abrupt movements in the room. The floorboards creaked. The sounds came toward the door.

Bannor felt the twinge of savant being close. The person’s approach halted. No doubt she felt his presence as well.

A voice, young and thin, called out a question. To Bannor, it sounded like two people talking over one another. The ache in his head increased sharply and he gritted his teeth.

Hella waved him at the door. Massaging his forehead, he shrugged back at her in a pantomime of non-comprehension.

Frowning, Hella said a few words in a low voice. Her words rang in his ears equally confused, making jangles of pain run up and down the back of his skull. The floor creaked indicating the girl came closer. She asked something again. The words made it feel like someone was drumming on his scalp. He fingered the soreness, tears streaking his face.

Startled, he realized she had asked who they were. It was actually starting to work.

Hella replied simply. “Friends.”

Bannor rolled his eyes. This frightened child wouldn’t buy that answer.

The girl spoke, and this time the meaning came to him only a little behind her words. “I don’t know you.”

Hella stared and him and nodded toward the door. Bannor frowned. He was only now starting to understand. How would he speak this strange tongue? He tried to simply think of those other words. “My—” he stumbled over the word. There wasn’t a translation. “We—” Damn, this language was all sideways. “have no—” He paused again. “Will not—damage—you.” Damage? That wasn’t the right word.

The goddess scowled at him. “We came to help.”

The door creaked as the girl leaned against it. “I don’t need help. Go away.”

“Please,” Bannor said, gripping his aching head. “You need to talk to us.” She really did. He saw Hella’s growing agitation.

“What’s the matter?” the girl asked. “You speak as if you’re drunk.”

Bannor made an open hands gesture to Hella. The goddess rolled her eyes. “He is ill. I must discuss something important with you.”

A pause. “You’re that woman I saw in the alley aren’t you?”

Hella’s eyes sparked. “Will you—please … open the door.”

“I don’t—”

Hella made a dismissing gesture and the wooden portal vanished. Leaning against the surface, the auburn-haired girl staggered forward with a yelp. Bannor caught her in his arms.

She started to struggle and he muffled her movements by hugging her close. “Please,” he whispered. “You’re in danger if you don’t listen.” He let go.

The young savant scrambled back and stared at them, freckled face pale and green eyes wide. With her upturned nose and tight little mouth she looked like a blackhorn caught in the beam of a hunter’s lantern. Bannor guessed her to be a late bloomer pushing the end of her teens, limbs thin from a combination of growth and spotty nourishment.

“W-what do you want?” she stuttered.

“Might we go inside?” Hella asked, gesturing to the room.

Swallowing, the young savant retreated inside and onto her pallet. Her gaze never left Hella. Bannor stepped inside. Hands behind her back, Hella did the same. The goddess glanced at the portal and the door shimmered into being again.

The girl’s eyes bulged. She backed up on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest, she gazed at Hella as if she was death incarnate—which was appropriate.

“Daena, don’t be frightened,” the goddess said in a soothing tone. “I am not here to hurt you. I want to help.”

The girl hugged her legs and stared at the goddess, eyes barely visible over her knees. She spoke in a quiet strained voice. “How do you know my name and why would you want to help? Why are you hiding what you really look like? I feel you on my skin, but I don’t see what I’m feeling.”

Hella glanced at him. Daena’s savant ability somehow let her detect the goddess’ shape magics. Hella folded her arms. She looked very vulnerable as she searched for words. “My true shape would make discussion—difficult. Your name is known to me because we are sisters in everything but birth. I wish to help because you are my blood, and together we can do something grand.”

Daena straightened. Her gaze flicked to Bannor. “Who’s he?”

“Someone who has promised to protect and guide you.”

The young savant let go of her legs and sat up. “This is silly. I think you’re trying to trick me. Go away.”

The goddess pressed her lips to a line. “Daena, we came a long way to find you. Do me one favor and if you still think it a trick, we shall depart.”

Rocking back and forth, the girl eyed her with a tight expression. “What?”

The goddess extended her arm toward the girl. “Take my hand.”

“That’s all?”

“Nothing more.”

Bannor looked between the two, not certain what would happen. Daena looked into the goddess’ silver eyes, slowly reached out and took hold. A glow spread up the girl’s arm. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

She snatched her hand away and retreated on the bed, breathing fast. “You’re—” She swallowed. “You’re—oh—oh—” She shook her head. “What do you want!?”

“Daena, I want to give you something.”

“I—” She shook her head. “Give me what?”

“Immortality.”

I’ll never forget the time I first saw Hella. It scared me so bad I almost wet myself.

—Daena Sheento

Ward Prodigal of Malan

Chapter 30
The Reticent Immortal

« ^ »

Immortality. He heard Hella say the word in the girl’s language, but to a youngster half into her teens, it held little meaning. Bannor read the non-comprehension on the girl’s face. The light filtering through the dusty wax-paper windows made Daena’s already pale skin look ghostly. The cloy smell of needlewood pitch and lamp oil hung heavy in air, now threaded by the metallic scent of Daena’s fear. The small room with its knotty wooden walls, shoddy pallet, and traveling trunk was not a place one found nobles, much less gods.

What kind of reaction did Hella expect? This young woman likely lived a day-to-day subsistence. Life was living to take another breath. A good life meant not being hungry. In an existence like that, planning the future was figuring out where the next meal would come from.

It had been a decade, but Bannor remembered living like that. The campaign had ended, and he was a lost soul wandering the streets of Tenax, desolate from being disowned by his family. Nineteen summers old and already a four year veteran. Southrealm lost the war, and everyone blamed it on the soldiers. The children become men that King Iggerd drafted by the thousands to swell the ranks of a failing campaign.

He knew how Daena felt—confronted by something so unexpected. It had been like that when the Captain Storvald asked him to join the Rangers. To him, the Captain seemed like a god. The word ‘knight’ was just an empty concept to a young man sweeping floors and washing dishes simply to get meals and lodging.

Hella searched Daena’s face for recognition. Bannor saw only fear. The goddess raked a hand through her hair. “Daena, I’ve come to make you immortal.”

The girl simply looked at her. If someone came out of nowhere to offer him the universe, he would have thought them insane too. In this case, that same crazy person could destroy a door with a glance. When faced by such an adversary, what did you do?

You kept quiet, and you tried not to move too much. Trapped with a goddess blocking the only exit, Daena stayed still—very still.

Bannor shook his head. “Hella, she doesn’t understand. Even if she does, she couldn’t believe. I’ve been in your mind and I don’t believe.”

The goddess scowled at him. “We must be joined while I am still sane, while—” She paused. “While my resolve remains firm.”

So, she did have doubts. “Hella, she’s…” He saw the fear in Daena’s eyes. “She’s not ready to take what you have to give.”

“Garmtur—she has to be ready.”

“Hella?” Daena said, green eyes wide. “Your name is Hella?”

The goddess nodded. “I am Hella.” She gestured to him. “He is Bannor.”

The girl studied their faces. “Why make me immortal?”

Hella sighed and clasped her hands behind her back. “I don’t know. I only know I was created to give immortality to your tao.”

Daena’s gaze shifted to him. “You said I wasn’t ready. Then she can really do that—make me immortal?”

He nodded reluctantly. “She can.”

“Why me?”

That he felt more comfortable broaching. “You must know that you’re special, Daena. You know that you can do things other people can’t.”

“The magic in my head.”

“They call that magic a Nola. People who wield that magic are savants.”

Daena eyes narrowed. “You’re a savant too, aren’t you?”

“Yes. They call me the Garmtur Shak’nola. From the feel of your threads, you are a prime savant.” He let his vision flow into the Garmtur, letting his nola give him insight into her connection to Eternity. The girl’s power had matured early, and resembled Wren’s talent, the Kel’Varan. Unlike Wren though, Daena only controlled a narrow class of forces, but she could manipulate them with greater strength. Wren also needed a force to act on her before she could bend it to her will. Daena didn’t seem limited in that way. A web of tenuous threads extended from her into every object in the room. They looked strongest around the metal objects, especially steel like in the gauntlets of Thor that he wore. “Your nola gives you mastery of some kind of force that’s strongest around metal.”

The young savant brightened. “My ability to move things does work best on metal. Is a ‘prime savant’ special?”

“Yes. The primes have the strongest ties to Eternity. They wield the most powerful nolas. Yours is strong. I have strong defenses and…” He shook his head. “You hit me pretty good.”

She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry. When I get scared my talent sometimes just—goes off. I apologize if I hurt you.”

“It’s okay. It was that way with me too.” Hades, it was still that way.

For the first time since they met, Daena smiled. The girl had found something in common, and it put her more at ease.

Right then, Bannor realized that Hella had been quiet a long time. The goddess stared at the floor with a tight expression. Her body was taut, and the threads of her magic were growing bright.

His heart raced. “Hella, no!” He leaped between the goddess and Daena.

Hella made a shoving gesture. The girl screamed as Bannor flew across the room and slammed into the wall. Shrieks of pain shot through his arms as magical force pried them out straight. Spheres of light flared around Thor’s gauntlets.

“Sorry, Garmtur,” Hella said. She made a pulling motion.

Bannor howled as Thor’s magical gloves were yanked off his hands. The separation sent fiery pain racing through his body. His attempts to focus the Garmtur were shattered as all of his energy vaporized.

“It’s dangerous to rely on magical devices,” the goddess remarked in a flat tone. “It makes you vulnerable—”

“Leave him alone!” Daena yelled, eyes flashing white. The air around Hella writhed and contorted. The wall behind the goddess shattered. Wood and bricks exploded out of the second story and rained into the street ten paces below.

Hella herself wasn’t phased, even her clothing looked undisturbed. “Daena, come—” The girl struck again, smashing out another huge section of the room.

The goddess of the dead sighed. “Daena, I’m your tao-sister, you can’t hurt me with your talent. I was created to channel it.” She shook her head looking sad. “Sorry Daena, I wish my resolve would hold up long enough for me to talk you into this…”

Bannor clawed his way up the wall. Hella had known removing Thor’s gauntlets would play havoc with him. He wasn’t sure if he could even survive using the Garmtur now. “Daena, run!”

The girl plunged for the shattered outer wall. Hella made a hooking gesture with her finger and the young savant froze in the air as though caught in a net.

“No!” Bannor yelled. He focused on the goddess’ threads. He might be able to impede her magic long enough for the youngster to get away.

“Let go!” Daena cried, squirming in the air as she drifted toward Hella. “Let go—now!” She thrust both fists in the goddess’ direction.

The whole room flickered as Daena unleashed her talent again. The magic obliterated the wall, the doorway, and the wall opposite—shredding wood and shattering brick. Again, the incredible strength barely stirred Hella’s hair.

The goddess shrugged. “Believe me Daena, I am the perfect vessel for you. I am like air to your power. Let me be a part of you. Let me know completion. Allow me to fulfill my purpose for existing.” The goddess reached toward Daena.

Bannor grabbed Hella’s prime thread, to find Hella’s tao-sister he studied the goddess intimately. It made it simple to bypass her defenses, take hold, and bare down with all his will.

Hella let out a yell that shook the walls. She went to her knees. At the same time, Daena screamed.

“Garmtur,” Hella gritted. “Stop. We are twins … what you do to me … you do to her. She is far more fragile than myself. Let go … you’ll kill her.”

In frustration, he released the goddess. Both Daena and Hella relaxed. “Damn it, don’t do this!”

Hella shook her head. “Bannor, our kind have been destroying your kind for eons. I have to protect her. If I don’t, I will never be fulfilled.”

The goddess looked over as people started calling out from the hallway and from the street below. She swung her arm and blue globe surrounded the destroyed room, blocking out the sounds.

“How is this protecting me, Hella?!” Daena yelled. “You’re hurting me!”

“You will be protected the best possible way.” She rose and helped Daena stand. She put a hand to the girl’s cheek. Daena flinched away. “If I could change this, I would. It must be done.”

Daena clenched her fists. “I don’t want your damn immortality!”

Bannor saw her struggle, but Hella must still have magicks around the girl.

“I know it is not your desire and that the prospect frightens you… It frightens me as well.” She swallowed. “I promise it will not hurt.”

Bannor looked for any means to stop the goddess. If he broke the bond between them, it might kill both. He wasn’t even sure he had enough energy to do it. By removing the gauntlets, Hella had shocked his nola, his power was compensating—but too slowly.

“Please,” Daena pleaded. “Don’t.”

Hella took the girl’s face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead.

Heart pounding and chest tight, Bannor gritted his teeth. Physical force wouldn’t work on the immortal. What did he have left?

Before he could decide, Hella wrapped her arms around Daena. The goddess’ body swelled and distorted. Daena let out a muffled yell as Hella’s flesh swarmed around her. Their bodies flashed brilliant white.

Covering his eyes, he reeled away from the burst of heat. A shriek filled the atmosphere, the air whirled as though spun by a tornado. The view of the room twisted as the fabric of Eternity fluctuated. A shock rumbled through the bricks and wood. The glowing mass that was Hella and Daena compressed. Colors shimmered around them as their bodies appeared to shrink. The threads of the immortal and savant twisted together, and in a blaze of energy, the two sets became one. A resonance vibrated the air, growing in pitch and strength. The two forms stretched into a column of blue light. With a final roar, the pillar of illumination flared, forcing Bannor to cover his face.

The room went silent.

Rubbing his eyes, he tried to clear his vision. After a few moments of silence, a soft sound started making the floor quake. The shades in his vision finally cleared. A creature who was neither Hella nor Daena knelt on the scorched floor. When standing she would be a fraction shorter than himself. Even her clothing had changed, now being some kind of shiny black cloth that clung to her body like a sheen of water. Waist length auburn hair hung down around a face that was blending of Hella’s and Daena’s traits. The girl’s eyes glowed like green jewels, casting emerald shadows on the surfaces of her cheeks. Glistening tears ran down her face as she sobbed.

Outside on the street, Bannor heard people gathering. Already, they were calling out to see if there were survivors of the calamity that blew the room to pieces. They’d been lucky the building was made from brick or the fight would have brought the whole structure down on top of them.

He stepped to the edge and looked out the hole to the three or four score faces all peering up from the ground level. “We’re okay!” he called out.

As he turned to check on Daena, he saw Thor’s gauntlets lying in the corner where they’d been knocked by the wind. He picked them up and tucked them into his belt. Hella taught him the hard way that he could function without the Thunder-god’s mystic weapons. He would think hard before putting them on again. No matter how useful an immortal’s strength was, not being able to touch Sarai had been a continuous pain to him.

He knelt by the young savant, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Daena?”

The girl choked and looked up. She seemed startled to see him. “Bannor—” Her voice echoed and the sound startled her. “I couldn’t stop her! She—she’s gone!” Daena threw her arms around him and pressed her face into the curve of his neck. She felt feverishly warm against him, and sparks seemed to jump from her skin. “I killed her!”

The girl’s hug surprised him. He ran his hand through her satiny feeling hair. “Easy. You didn’t kill her. She simply became a part of you.”

The girl shuddered and pulled him tighter. Bannor grunted as the force of her grip crunched down like a mill wheel. “Ugh. Daena—!” He wheezed. “Not so—” He thumped on her shoulder with his palm. “Not so—tight!”

She gasped and let up. “What—” She sniffed. “Oh my. Are you okay?”

Bannor nodded, rubbing his chest. “I’m all right.”

Something clattered in the hall, dust drifted into the room. Debris slid and thumped. “Hey,” a thick male voice called. “Anybody hurt in there? The hallway is collapsed.”

“We’re okay,” Bannor called back.

“Hang on, I’ll get some guys to help dig you out.”

“Okay, we aren’t going anywhere.” Damn, what did they do now? He winced and massaged his sore chest again. “Ow. Quite a grip you’ve got.”

She looked at herself and her hands. “She’s turned me in a monster!”

“Daena, you’re not a monster…”

“That witch changed me! I don’t even—” She swallowed and her tone dropped. “I don’t even recognize my own voice.”

He took her shoulders in his hands. “But you’re still you—that’s what’s important. The vital—essential—part of Daena is alive. This—” he said, pinching her skin, “Is only flesh. Hella could look any way she chose. Someday, it will be the same for you. I’m sorry this happened without your consent, but there’s no way I know to reverse it.”

Daena shook her head, auburn hair wreathing around her face. “What do I do? Nobody will believe it’s me. I don’t believe it’s me! I—I—feel so strange…”

He drew a breath. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what my next step is. Hella stranded me here. She was my way of finding my family. Now, she’s gone.”

The girl trained glowing green eyes on him, the light from them flickering like fire. “If you find a way, are you taking me with you?”

“Daena, I would—never—make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

“Bannor,” she said, her voice echoing as she emphasized his name. “I don’t want to be alone—not now. You’re the only one who understands me. Everyone else will be afraid of me.”

Actually, she scared him too. Hella had placed a frightening amount of power into the custody of this young woman. Daena didn’t know it, but she would learn that she now embodied all the powers of an immortal and a savant.

He ran a hand down her arm, feeling the strength in it. The skin of that arm felt soft to the touch, but he could detect the leather tough tissue beneath the surface. No doubt she had all of Hella’s capabilities, add that to her already potent nola and she was a catastrophe in human form. Right now, she was open to his guidance. Could he really turn his back on the chance to help her become a constructive rather than a destructive force in the universe? Of course, with his current problems, he might never get the chance.

“Daena, you have to realize—if I find a way back to my friends, I will be going into big danger. When I asked you for help, I was being selfish. There will be creatures even more powerful than Hella, and they won’t be pleased to see you. Staying here, you’d be safe. You’ll learn to cope with what you are in time.”

Daena nodded. She went to the traveling trunk and pulled out a beaten silver reflecting plate. The girl gasped at what she saw, then went silent as she studied her muted reflection. She touched her eyes and fingered her long hair. She put the plate back into the case slowly and turned to him.

“Bannor,” she said. “I felt alone before. Now, I don’t even know what I am. People sensed I was different, even the creeps in the alley. Since we met, you’ve tried to protect me. When I touch you, I feel your spark. I feel safe with you.” She drew a breath. “Besides, when you said you needed my help. I could tell—you meant it.”

He nodded. “I did.” He looked around. “Damn, I need time to think. When they get through that rubble, they will ask a million questions. They’ll want to know where you and Hella are. Everyone in the commons saw her walk in with me. I’m a stranger, with all this damage, ‘murder’ and ‘foul play’ will be fast on their lips. I’ve been hung before—it wasn’t fun.”

Daena shrugged. “Well, let’s leave then.” She threw a few items into the dressing trunk, locked it, and swung it onto her shoulder. Less than a bell ago, the slight girl who he saved from the rapists would have struggled to simply lift one end. She walked to the hole in the wall and looked back at him. “Come on.”

“That’s ten paces down, Daena.”

“So I noticed.”

Bannor rushed toward the gap as she stepped out. He arrived in time to see her thunder to the ground. She barely needed to flex her knees to absorb the shock of the long fall. She looked up and grinned. “You coming?”

As he swung out to climb down to join her, he felt a queasiness in his stomach. She’d only been owner of Hella’s immortality for a few breaths and already she was testing her limits. How long before she was too confident in her power to listen to reason, and too strong to control?

Daena had the potential to be a monster more terrible than any god. With the right words, the proper rapport, and a comforting touch he might stop that from happening. He dropped to the cobbles and looked into her glowing eyes. The universe had a new god—could he keep her from falling into darkness?

I find Daena to be an intriguing young human capable of surprising me on a daily basis. Taking her on a ward prodigal ended up being one of the best ideas I have ever had.

—Arminwen Janai T’Evagduran

Second Princess of Malan

Chapter 31
Daena Sheento: First One Reborn

« ^ »

Immortal—the word described the spirits of men and gods who could not die. Daena, a young savant not yet out of her teens, had been transformed into the form of a first one, a member of an ancient race of immortals who were the first children of Alpha. She went to the transformation unwillingly, but was already adjusting. After her initial shock and repugnance, it hadn’t taken Daena long to discover the advantages of the change.

She and Bannor walked down a less used street, the awnings of the shops worn and thread-bare. The carts on the street-side shoddy and poorly crafted, their proprietors, careworn souls with empty eyes. The city smells had turned unpleasant, heavy with the stink of spoiled vegetables, soap rendering, and urine.

A whiff of the particularly sharp odor brought Bannor up short. “Damn,” he muttered. “Where is this we’ve wandered into?”

Daena looked up the street, glowing green eyes bright even in partial daylight. “We’re in Skreed-town—it’s a haven for the city dregs.”

Bannor brushed at his nose. “I believe it.”

“This way,” she pointed. They headed up a side street.

Rather than stop where the city guard might find them, they had kept on the move for over a bell. He didn’t know for certain if the guards were searching for them, but it seemed a safe assumption given they might think that two people had died. He had used the time, to relate some of the events that had been occurring.

“Anyway,” Bannor said, returning to what he’d been saying. “That’s when Hella got involved, and she ‘persuaded’ me to find you.”

Daena shook her head. “That is some story, Bannor. Savants, royalty, gods, demons, wars … you’ve certainly seen a lot recently. So, if I’m understanding everything, the King, Sarai, and the dragons are in one location … and the others are in that niffle place.”

“Niflheim,” he said.

“Niflheim,” she repeated. They turned a corner and headed toward a nicer section of town. “So how do we get to them?”

“I have an idea,” he answered. “We’ll need a safe place where we can both be unconscious for a few bells without being disturbed.”

“What…” Daena stopped, gaze tracking some people that went into an alley up the street from them. “Hold that explanation. While you’re at it. Hold this.” He grunted under the weight of her heavy trunk as she shoved it into his hands. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“Daena, wait…” He shouldered the trunk and started after her.

He reached the alley mouth in time to see the young Savant catch up with a group of men. The day shadows had grown long and the area between the buildings only dimly illuminated. Stacks of old lumber lined the passage, filling the air with the scent of mildew and needlewood pitch. The sounds of pounding and sawing echoed from a mill yard not far off.

“Zubrick!” Daena called. “Turn around, you sorry piece of dragon flop!”

At the challenge, the men stopped. The biggest, a blunt-faced paunch-bellied brute with thinning red hair adjusted his overcoat and pulled a dagger.

One of his men pulled on his arm. “Boss, her eyes are glowing!”

The leader shoved the smaller man away. “I can see.” He pointed the knife at Daena. “Who in blazes are you?”

The young savant kept moving. Zubrick’s men drew their swords. The first man who stepped into her path didn’t get a chance to raise his sword as she stuffed a hand into his face and sent him reeling into a refuse heap.

Bannor dropped the trunk, and lunged in as the second man brought his weapon around. He yanked the attacker back by the hair. As the man yelled and twisted to defend himself, Bannor sunk a knee hard into his gut. With a gasp, the thug went down.

Zubrick moved fast, stepping into Daena and bringing his weapon point hard toward her gut. “Bleed, Witch!” he snarled, as the blade thwacked home.

Daena glanced at her stomach. Her eyes turned the color of flame. She wrapped her hand around his and lifted it. Exposed in the dim light, the blade was bent as if it had struck rock. Zubrick’s eyes widened. He drew back and smashed her in the face. The heavy-set man let out a curse and shook his hand in pain. The impact had rocked Daena’s head back, but didn’t move her.

Growling, she grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the alley wall. “That was—not—smart.” Zubrick flailed at her, struggling to pry out of her grip. She put a thumb against the knife blade and the metal snapped with a crack. “Zube, you ordered a Daena Sheento raped today for shorting you a dozen silvers.” He gagged as she clamped down. “She’s my friend, and it makes me very angry.”

The thug she knocked down clambered to his feet sword in hand. Bannor stepped into his path. He was in his late teens, face tattooed with self inflicted scars and paint.

He looked tough, but the posture, sword grip, and wavering gaze told Bannor different. “Don’t force me to take that away from you. This is between them. Don’t put me in a worse mood than I already am.” He gestured with his head to the other guard gasping and vomiting on the ground.

“Hear that Zube?” Daena rasped. “He’s in a bad mood too. I’ll give you one chance to cheer us up…”

~*~

They walked down the street a short while later, Daena was tossing a fat purse of gold in the air and catching it. “Mighty generous of Zube to give us that gold, don’t you think?”

Bannor laughed. “I’ve seen bullies foul themselves before—but that wight … he leaked from every orifice. Could you have picked a coin-spinner who made a worse stench?”

Daena blew out a breath. “He did stink didn’t he? Guess I never noticed before how bad he smelled.” She grabbed the gold and slipped the leather tie around her neck. “Thanks for backing me up.”

He shrugged. “Trash like that needs to be cleaned up. He deserved worse for what he ordered done to you.” He paused. “You showed excellent restraint.”

The girl smiled. “His men saw what a belly dragger he really is. That satisfied me. I notice one of his thugs loaned you his sword.”

Bannor thumbed the hilt of the weapon. “I did that lame-blade a favor by taking it. He shouldn’t have been allowed to go near sharp objects.”

Daena chuckled again and rubbed the back of Bannor’s neck. Her green eyes searched his face. “I haven’t known you very long, Bannor, but I really like you. You make me laugh.”

He smiled at her. “Daena, you’re good company.” He touched her hand. “Hey, I’m starving, let’s use some of that gold to get some dinner and a place to stay. While we eat, I’ll explain my plan.”

“Great idea. I’m hungry enough to eat a Rhinotaur.”

Bannor put an arm around her shoulders. “Lead the way…”

Daena knew an out-of-the-way establishment where they could get something to fill their stomachs with minimal chance of running into the city guard. The small sturdy inn sat near the outskirts of the town. Everything about the building looked worn and tired, but the place proved clean and warm. The patrons likewise had the stiff scrubbed features of hard working farmers and craftsmen. The innkeeper and the serving ladies were robust friendly folks that let them take a table in the back where they wouldn’t be bothered.

When Daena said she was hungry enough to eat a Rhinotaur she hadn’t exaggerated by much. Obviously, the new body consumed a lot of energy. She appeared to burn it up almost as quickly as she forked it in.

Dinner went slowly, they were both hungry. Daena had a thousand questions concerning his recent adventures, his friends, and his experiences with his savant powers. At times, her youth showed in the wide-eyed expressions she gave him. Overall, at ease as she was now, she acted extremely mature for her age. She was smart, insightful, and direct, with an infectious laugh that made him smile.

After dinner, he went to the innkeeper and rented a room for the night. As a precaution, he picked one without windows that was situated near two foundation walls.

He ushered the young savant inside, and stepped in behind her. The odor of lye soap lingered in the air disguised by citrus and incense. The interior was little more than a featureless cube with a few shelves for items and a half-dozen pegs for hanging clothes. A rendering of a seascape hung askew in the middle of the back wall in a cracked wooden frame, a tiny island of color in a sea of peeling whitewash. The low bonewood pallets looked ugly and battered, but the linens proved clean, and the sand-filled watercloth mattresses serviceable.

Bannor looked around with a grunt and set the lamp on a shelf. He’d stayed in far worse. He saw no evidence of bugs, which he found a relief. He barred the door and wedged the chamber’s only chair against it. Daena set her trunk down and stood in the middle of the room rubbing her arms and looking uncertain.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, last time I was in a room alone with a man…” She shuddered. “Bad memories.”

He fixed her in his gaze. “Well, that won’t happen with me. In fact, I doubt anybody forces you to do anything again.”

The frown on her face relaxed. She raked a hand through her hair and straightened up. “You know, you’re right,” she curled her hands into fists. “I’m a big girl now. Nobody will make me do anything I don’t want.”

Bannor nodded and patted her on the shoulder. “Definitely. Well, Big Girl, you do what you want. I’m too tired to walk across the street much less astral travel. I’ll rest a bit, then teach you what you need to know.” He stumbled to the nearest pallet and collapsed on it with a sigh.

He closed his eyes. His bones ached. He’d been through one long battering ordeal, and wasn’t even sure how he’d survived this long. The magic in Thor’s gauntlets had been sustaining him more than he realized. Now, a few bells after having them forcibly removed by Hella, the fatigue had caught up with him. He needed the rest to get enough energy back to be of use to anyone.

The floorboards creaked as Daena crossed the room. The young savant’s new body had to be at least as dense as that of a Valkyrie. Zubrick might as well have been punching a treestump. That bastard really did deserve worse than a broken hand. She wasn’t much more than a kid. He heard the other pallet groan, then make a clunking sound. The wood made another brittle protest. Daena let out a breath. The sound of her footsteps came back across the room toward him.

He cracked an eyelid and looked at her. “Hmmm?”

“Feel better to be lying down?” she asked.

“Yes. Damn, barely been holding myself together.”

She brushed her fingers across his forehead. “From what you’ve told me, I can imagine. I feel the weight of it on your mind.” She stroked his cheek.

He cracked the other eye. “Daena, you should rest.”

“Dratted bed broke. I’m not tired anyway.”

He turned on his side and shifted to get more comfortable. “Lay the mattress on the floor. Relax—compose yourself.”

Daena was silent, but she didn’t move away.

Damn, he needed to rest, and he’d get none with this girl hovering over him. “You’ve lead a pretty lonely life haven’t you?”

After a few moments, she responded. “Yes.”

Bannor opened his eyes and met the green glow of her gaze. He held out his hand. “Daena, I promise not to leave you alone. Okay?”

The young savant laced her fingers in his, and squeezed. “Okay. You know—having someone who—” She paused. “Who really cares about me. Is…”

He put his other hand on top of hers. “Daena you’re special in a lot of ways. It’s easy for me to care about you. Rest. You’re honestly going to need it.”

The young savant knelt, put her arms around his neck, and hugged him. She put her head on his chest, breath warming his skin through his tunic. Her hair smelled sweet like winter spice.

“Is it all right if I rest here?”

He drew a breath and put his arm around her.

Daena sighed, her breathing immediately relaxing. What was he going to do with this girl? He really didn’t need more problems…

~*~

His eyes fluttered open, he felt hot and a something heavy pressed against him; Daena’s arm. She’d somehow managed to squeeze onto the pallet beside him. Being extremely tired and accustomed to Sarai’s warm body next to him, her invasion of the pallet hadn’t awakened him. Somehow the wood had managed to hold up the thirty stone of their combined weight. The young savant’s breathing was low and even. For someone who wasn’t tired, she certainly slept deeply.

The pasty taste in his mouth indicated he’d been unconscious for several bells. He hoped that Sarai was okay, and this delay had not cost him too much. He prayed the healing he gave to Kylie helped Wren and the others. Especially Wren—she was his means of finding Euriel. He could find Wren again the same way he located her the first time.

Daena rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, one of her legs twined in his. He sighed, what an armful this girl was. The black cloth she wore was so thin she might as well have been naked. She drew a deep breath and raised her head. She blinked glowing green eyes at him. “You awake?” she murmured.

“Uh hmmm,” he answered.

“Guess I was tired after all,” she said, rubbing her face. “How did I—?” Her cheeks colored.

“Good elven woodwork I guess,” he said, grinning. “Feeling all right?”

“Mmmm?” Her brow furrowed. “Good.” She swallowed, gaze fixed on his. “Being next to you is … nice.”

“Yes, nice.” Bannor nodded and ran a hand through her silky hair. “Since you’re feeling good. You ready to learn some magic?”

She rose and stretched. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Sure.”

As he we started waking himself up, Bannor studied her with the Garmtur. As he probed Daena’s body, he found the bunched threads he expected. Hella had secreted her flux stone near the same place that Sarai kept hers.

“Well, the first thing I’ll teach you is about your focus. This will feel strange, but it won’t hurt. Take two fingers and place them here.” He demonstrated, placing them a little above his sternum. Daena mimicked him. “Focus on that spot, feel for something that isn’t really a part of you.”

Daena’s brow furrowed. “Something not—hey—!” She snatched her hand back. “What is that?! It feels alive!”

“A flux stone. You need to will it into your hand.”

The young woman grimaced, rubbing at her sternum. “Oooh, Bannor, this is creepy—you didn’t say anything about something being inside of me!”

“I’m telling you now.”

Frowning, she drew a breath, closed her eyes and focused.

Bannor watched as the threads of her aura reached out, tickling the edges of the embedded flux stone. This item was key to controlling Daena’s powers.

“That’s it,” he said. “Really want it. Imagine it sitting in your hand.”

With noises of discomfort, Daena coaxed the flux stone out of her flesh. The object dropped into her hand with a slurping sound. “Ick.” She scowled at the thumb-sized black jewel lying in her palm. “What was this doing in me?”

“Helping control your power.”

“I don’t like this thing,” Daena said. “There’s too much of Hella in it.” She stopped. “Bannor, it frightens me.”

“Daena, that’s only because it’s strange. The potential is scary, but I’m here. As you learn, that magic won’t be so intimidating.” He stroked her hair. “You’ll have to confront this eventually. Better now, with me here to help.”

She trembled. He felt her heart pound. This girl was so different from Sarai. Sarai didn’t fear power—she craved it—reveled in it … wanted more.

Daena pressed her lips to a line and slid her arm through his. With a steely expression, she tightened her fingers around the jewel.

Sparks whirled around her arms and Bannor felt heat grow around her body. Daena gritted her teeth, wincing as the sparks around her became rainbows of color. Her skin grew hotter and the air in the room whirled.

He realized her arm through his had grown heavier. Daena was growing! He started to warn her, then thought better, best not to scare her. Her growth continued, until she was head and shoulders taller than him. The pallet groaned. With a crack, it gave and the two of them crashed to the floor with a thud.

The shock startled Daena. Her voice had taken on a deeper timbre and the sound resonated. “What? Oh my…” She touched his shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”

He rubbed his head. “Fine.” He tossed away a broken piece of the pallet. “You killed the bed though.”

“What happened?” She rose to her feet in surprise. “I’m—huge!”

Bannor stood and looked up at her. “Apparently you reverted.”

“Reverted to what?” Daena asked with wide eyes.

“Whatever’s natural for a first one I guess. You okay?”

“I feel fine, but I can’t stay this way!” She held the flux stone up. “I learned a lot, but obviously I need to talk to it some more!” Daena laughed and hugged him. “You’re right, it doesn’t scare me as much now.” She rocked him and said, “Hey! You’re my little brother now!”

He hugged her back. “I’m glad you’re not scared.”

“No, I have you.” She bent and kissed him. The move surprised Bannor. The surprise must of have showed in his expression. “What’s the matter?”

He took her big hand in both of his. “Daena, I care about you. Please—please remember, I’m engaged. Sarai can be very generous, and she’ll be good to you. If she thinks you’re trying to tempt me she’ll be furious—with both of us.”

Daena’s face turned serious, she brought a finger up and touched his face. “What if I want you for myself?”

I envy Sarai. Janai tells me I’m silly, that I can have my pick of the universe. I don’t know why, but from the moment I met him, Bannor seemed to be the one. It haunts me still…

—Daena Sheento

Ward Prodigal of Malan

Chapter 32
Loki’s Missing Daughter

« ^ »

Bannor looked up into the expectant face of young god. By ancient blood older than human kind, he and she were brother and sister. They shared a common bond to Eternity, and they each wielded a unique aspect of the cosmic laws of order. He kept his gaze fixed on the girl who had grown to be head and shoulders bigger than himself, and was now realizing the extent of her powers. At this moment, in all the universe, Daena Sheento was unique—and lonely. The girl stroked the side of his face, her expression soft and inviting.

“I’m serious,” she whispered. “What if I want you for myself?”

His insides tightened. He captured one of her big hands in both of his, feeling the warmth and resilience of her flesh against his. “I believed you. I know you meant what you said.” He kissed her knuckles. So much counted on what he said next. “Daena, could you love a traitor? That’s what I’d have to become to love you.” He held his breath staying focused on her. “I swore myself to Sarai. She wears my ring and I love her. She’s also carrying my child, Daena. I’ll be a father soon.” He rubbed her hand. “Would you ask me to forsake that for you?”

She stared at him, body taut and expression tight. After a moment, she bowed her head and a tear crept down her face. After a few moments, she straightened, eyes searching his. “If you hadn’t met her first. Would you want me? Would you love me?”

He put a finger on her lips. “Daena, I think I would. I like being with you. Given time there might have been more.” He paused. “Can I be your brother instead?”

The young woman engulfed him in a hug. “I want you any way I can have you, Bannor.” She pushed back and tightened her hand around the flux stone. Daena drew a breath and set her jaw. Her skin took on a bluish glow. She grimaced, brow furrowing in concentration. With a bubbling sound, her flesh rippled and her body compressed. In little more than a score of heartbeats she had returned to a height a fraction shorter than himself. She examined herself and seemed satisfied. “As long as I don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“I promise,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “Well done, by the way.”

“I have a good teacher.” Daena hugged him again. They held one another for a while. She pushed back. “Best teach me this astral traveling now. I—” Her throat tightened. “We shouldn’t be alone together anymore.” She looked away.

Bannor pulled her chin back to look at him. “Are you going to be okay?”

She frowned and nodded. “Hurt my-own-damn-self. Should have known better than to hope…” She stopped herself, flipping away curls of auburn hair with an irritated slap of her hand. Her voice hardened. “Teach me.”

He swallowed, seeing he’d hurt her even though he tried not to. “Mattress is already on the floor, might as well lay down again.”

With the help of the flux stone, it required little additional training to show Daena how to leave her body in astral form. He demonstrated movement, tutored her on the mindspeak needed to communicate while astral, and the differences of their perceptions. As they worked, the edge in Daena’s voice wore off and the emotion of the moment dimmed as she focused on the new discoveries.

Despite that, instinct told him this issue would come up again. He didn’t know why or when, but he knew he could count on it to be the worst possible time.

Within a bell, they had arranged their belongings so if they were teleported, the items would be drawn along with them. They then freed their astral forms and took a last look around before starting their journey. They hovered over their comatose bodies lying together hand in hand on the mattress. The glowing specter of Daena’s astral shape gleamed like a beacon, actually lighting up the room with its intensity.

—Whoa,—she murmured telepathically, looking down at her composed face.—This is totally different than looking in a mirror. That’s what I look like, huh?—It’s you,—he agreed.—It surprised me too when I first saw myself like this.—I didn’t realize how much padding Hella put on me. I realized that cloth fit close but… She sighed in his mind.—Do we know where we’re going?—We will in a moment.—He concentrated and located his link to Wren. The thread arced off into infinity. He sighed in relief; still alive. Wren’s condition had been fragile at best.—Stay close. I’ve astral traveled some… but never this far.—Well, I’ll hold on to you then.—You can’t, we’re… He stopped in surprise as he felt her take hold. He forgot, this girl was a first one, she made her own rules.—Okay, hang on.—

He towed her up through the building and streaked into a morning sky. Rising up through thin layers of clouds they accelerated away from a verdant green land dotted with lakes and forests. Ranges of mountains spread out below, then expanses of ocean, and the curved edge of the world. A black curtain of night opened, the daystar gleaming brilliant and gigantic in the background as Daena’s home world dwindled behind them. His far away heart raced as he witnessed the magnificent vista of the heavens.

—Oh my,—Daena breathed in his mind.—It’s awesome!—It is, and a long way to go.—Holding tight to Wren’s thread, he willed them to its far end.

They experienced a wrenching lurch and Daena gasped as the darkness disintegrated around them into streaks of color. Patterns whirled and clashed in the light, before imploding into a single white dot through which they seemed to “squeeze”. On the far side, they erupted into a whole new realm with a dazzling sapphire sky cut through clouds and swaths of blue and magenta, stars gleamed in the daylight like brilliant jewels. A jagged land came into view as they punched down through layers of cirrus and toward a narrow valley choked with ice, trees, and bracken. In moments, they were shooting down a winding animal path into a shallow gully thick with thorn brambles and wormwood.

Bannor and Daena stopped thirty paces from a small group of people huddling in a cluster of boulders. Bannor recognized Laramis and Irodee as those closest. Kylie the Valkyrie knelt before a small fire with her back to them. Queen Kalindinai and her daughter Janai crouched by the circle, feeding branches to the flames. Euriel and her husband Vanidaar used pieces of broken steel to scratch marks on the boulders. Furthest from him was the woman who led them across that immeasurable distance. Wren rested against a boulder an arm across her face in an expression of fatigue.

If he possessed lungs, he would have been panting with exhaustion. Getting this far felt as if he’d run a marathon.

—That … was … so … incredible!—Daena thought to him, excitement bubbling through the telepathy.—Will we get to do this again?!—I hope not,—he answered, feeling drained.—But we probably will. Don’t you feel tired?—Tired?—The young savant asked, perplexed.—I feel wonderful—totally free!—

Bannor studied the Daena’s glowing image. Hers had dimmed little if any over that immense distance. His own image showed up as only a faint outline. She appeared strong enough to be as physical here in her astral body as in the flesh. Did she even need a body? Perhaps the form lying at the inn was only a convention, a link to a familiar state of life.

—Okay, next time you tow then. I’ll tag along. Let’s approach slow. This is hostile territory so they’ll be edgy. Let’s not startle them.—With you all the way,—Daena enthused, her excitement still evident.

Bannor approached slow, Daena behind him. Laramis stopped in the midst of saying something to Irodee. His head came up and he peered into the lengthening shadows in Bannor’s direction. The justicar’s senses remained keen.

“What is it?” Irodee whispered. “Are the spies back?”

Kylie rose slowly and turned. The Valkyrie’s brow furrowed and she clenched her fists. “I feel an immortal,” she whispered.

Kalindinai and Janai stood and picked up weapons. Euriel and Vanidaar turned from their work.

“Bannor?” Wren said. “Bannor, are you there?”

Why couldn’t Kylie see him? The Valkyrie saw his tao before.

—Wren,—he thought to the blonde savant.—I am here.—

“Mother,” Wren said. She clambered to her feet with noticeable effort. She still appeared weak, but in magnitudes better condition than when he left. In fact, they all appeared much stronger. “Bannor is here.”

“Are you sure?” Euriel asked.

Wren pointed at him. “He’s faint, but I feel him.”

“Where?” Kylie asked. “I see nothing, but I feel ze immortal.”

—My body is very far away Wren. I have an immortal with me—not Hella.—

“Bannor is trapped far away and brought an immortal with him,” Wren repeated.

—Wren, my friend is going to make herself visible. Tell them it’s an ally.—

“Bannor says, his friend is going to become visible.”

—Do it,—he told Daena.—Let them see you.—

He felt the young savant’s confusion.—They can’t see me?—Concentrate on being tangible and real here. I’m already doing that, but we’re so far from our bodies I don’t have enough energy to manifest. You do.—All right,—she thought.—Just think myself solid?—Yes.—

He felt the girl shrug. Her astral body shimmered. Light flickered, and Daena flared into visibility lighting up the circle of rocks. They all gasped, the light causing reflections on their skin and casting shadows in the small area.

“Goddess,” Irodee whispered.

Wren came forward until Irodee took her arm and stopped her.

“Gaea?” Wren asked. “No, but it feels like her.”

Kylie looked toward Daena’s glowing form and bowed.

Euriel came forward and put a hand on Wren’s shoulder. Her blue eyes gleamed as she focused on Daena. “Bannor is with you? We cannot hear him.”

Perhaps it simply seemed natural. Daena tried to speak. When she did, it echoed resonant and hollow in the tiny rock enclosure. “He said you would be able to draw us to you by touching our astral forms.” What surprised Bannor most was she spoke his language, not the one Hella ‘taught’ him. How did she do that?

“I can do that,” Euriel said. “Bannor must be solid enough for me to touch though. I cannot even see him.”

“Our bodies are holding hands. Can you draw us here through me?”

The daughter of Idun pursed her lips. “Yes.” She looked to Wren. “You’re sure that’s Bannor you feel by her?” At Wren’s nod, she focused back on Daena. “All right, I have to touch your astral form.”

Daena raised her chin. “I’m ready.”

Euriel reached toward Daena and a sheen of bluish light surrounded the older woman. As her fingers touched the girl’s astral form, Bannor felt a tug.

“Damn, they are far away,” Euriel murmured. “It will take more energy than I have.”

“How much do you need?” Daena asked.

Euriel raised an eyebrow. “How much have you got?”

Daena paused, then her astral form brightened. She slid toward Euriel.

The mage stepped back. “What..?” She didn’t get a chance to finish before Daena’s astral body coalesced into hers. A golden light erupted around the daughter of Idun, and she caught her breath. “Oh whoa—that much!”

She extended her hands and Bannor felt the tug again, this time much harder. His view of the rocks flickered. The last thing he saw was Euriel’s features tighten with effort, as everything abruptly went black.

~*~

Bannor blinked and shook his head to clear the disorientation. He lay on his back against cold soil. He smelled the rank odor of bramble weeds, and felt an icy wind against his face. The baying of wolves echoed in the distance.

Daena smiled down at him. “Time to wake up.”

He pushed himself to a sitting position. “Damn, that was a rough—oof!” He fell back as Wren tackled him. “Bannor! You pulled through again!” Grinning, she squeezed him again. “I take back every nasty thing I ever said about you!”

Bannor returned Wren’s hug. He looked up and saw the others were all close around them, Laramis, Irodee, Kalindinai, Janai, Kylie, Euriel, and Vanidaar. All of them smiled, despite haggard looks.

He took Wren by the shoulders and gave her a little shake, and laughed. “That’s a lot of take backs. I was so scared. I didn’t know what else to do except give the pack to Laramis, and try to keep Hella away from you.”

“Those fruits of Idun you left in the bottom of your pack saved all of our skins. We wouldn’t have made it without them,” Wren said.

Laramis stood up and took Bannor’s hand. “Well met, Friend.” He said in his rolling tones. “Well met, and well done.” He thumped Bannor on the shoulder and went to sit behind his huge wife, Irodee who leaned back against him. He stroked the woman’s long hair to one side and began massaging her broad shoulders. “Perhaps you’ll introduce your new friend,” the man suggested.

Bannor glanced at Daena who tilted her head and looked back, twining a strand of auburn hair around a finger. “Everyone, this is Daena Sheento she’s a sister savant who has offered to help us.” He paused and looked to the Valkyrie. “I don’t want to be rude, but have you contacted Sarai?”

Kylie looked up from a sword she was sharpening with a stone. She nodded. “Yes, she was concerned, but I could not give her ze good news. Zey have moved north toward us. Odin broke off ze attack. We think it is you he is after.”

He felt an immense weight relax from his mind. “As long as she’s okay.”

Euriel pulled the surcoat that Laramis had loaned her tighter around her shoulders and threw more twigs on the fire. “She is. Perhaps you’ll tell us what became of Hella and how you met Daena. She wouldn’t tell us until you awoke.”

“Yes,” Wren said, sitting back down and extending her hands to the flames. The amber light made shadows dance across her pale face. “I’m curious how she came to be wearing a first one symbiote.”

Daena’s jaw dropped and she touched the form fitting cloth she’d worn since her merger with Hella. “Symbe-what?”

“Well,” Bannor said. “She wears their clothing because she is a first one.”

The color drained from Wren’s face. She put a hand to her mouth. “Ohmylord…” she gasped. “What I felt … ohmylord…”

Irodee patted Wren on the back. “Breathe…”

Queen Kalindinai who sat next to Janai braiding the daughter’s long brown hair glanced up. “A first one?”

“Predecessors to the gods,” Euriel replied, twirling a twig between her fingers then tossing it into the flames. Her husband Vanidaar pulled her close. She snuggled against him and tugged playfully at his beard. She turned serious. “I felt her power. She could be what Bannor claims.”

Daena smiled and settled herself cross-legged next to Bannor. He felt her vibrating with excitement. These people were all new to her and that freshness obviously excited her. “They know me, perhaps you’ll introduce them?”

“Sir Laramis De’Falcone,” the justicar said, leaning forward to extend his hand. As Daena took it, he bent and kissed her fingers in courtly fashion. He put his arms around Irodee, kissed her on the neck. “This is my lifemate, Irodee.” The black-haired Myrmigyne squirmed against him in response, then nodded to Daena with a smile.

Kylie turned the blade over she was sharpening and inclined her head. “I am Kylindria of the Valkyur, chief guardian of the Thunder-lord’s stedding.”

Wren shook herself out of a daze and held out her hand. “I’m Liandra. Everyone calls me Wren.” Bannor noticed the savant’s hand shook as Daena touched her fingers. “My mother Euriel you met, this tall quiet gentleman is my father Vanidaar.” The daughter of Idun nodded to Daena as did her husband.

“Daena,” Bannor said, gesturing to the Queen. “This is Lady Kalindinai T’Evagduran, and her daughter Janai.”

Daena smiled and bowed. “You’re Sarai’s mother. You must be proud to have Bannor as a future son-in-law.”

Both the Queen and Janai froze as though startled, the Queen’s fingers halting their motion in the younger Elf’s long hair. The two of them eyed each other. Brushing back silver hair, Kalindinai focused, glowing amber eyes wide. “Pardon, I was merely surprised to hear you speak high tongue. Yes, I have come to appreciate Bannor a great deal.”

“High tongue?” He heard the words in the common tongue. Daena wasn’t using mindspeak. Obviously, the elves ‘heard’ her in their language. He turned to Daena. “Are you doing that intentionally?”

She shook her head. “Ever since you woke up that flux stone, it just does stuff without me asking.”

Wren pushed out her lip. “Flux stone? Bannor, what happened to Hella?”

Daena pointed to herself. “I happened. I’m in her.”

Wren leaned back hugging herself. “Hella was your beta? She knew…”

“She forced me to find Daena,” Bannor said.

“She wanted to ‘fulfill her purpose’,” Daena growled. “Whether I wanted her to or not. So, now, like it or not … here I am.”

“Pardon my density, milady,” Laramis said. “Are you saying that you and Hella are now one and the same?”

The young savant frowned. “Bannor tried to stop her, and so did I. My nola didn’t work on her. She grabbed me, and—” She paused her face taking on a haunted expression. “She absorbed me.” She flipped at her auburn hair. “I felt her melt around me and I woke up like this.”

Wren wore a stunned expression, she laced her fingers, knuckles going white as she spoke. “Mother, this is the permanent combining I talked about. I thought I would never see it happen.” She shook her head.

“I admit I thought it was pretty unlikely as well. Gaea never mentioned foreseeing it happening.”

The blonde savant shook her head. “Not to me either.”

Daena folded her arms. “You know about what’s happened to me?”

“I visited the home of the first ones and learned about the alpha and beta duality,” Wren answered. “I knew it was possible. Gaea wanted it to happen. But she never said what I should do if it actually happened.” She rubbed her face. “I never thought one of the gods would actually…”

“Be crazy enough to immolate themselves,” Daena finished.

“Right.”

“Friends,” Bannor said. “The mystery with Daena can wait for a moment. What are we doing to join up with the others? You said Odin broke off the attack.”

“He did, on them,” Euriel answered. “He discovered that we broke loose and we’ve been running like scalded dogs for a day. Half a contingent of Valkyrie were combing the ridges for us. They only broke off a short while ago. Vanidaar and I were barely able to mask our presence with Kylie’s help. We just settled to rest when you came.”

“Ze last contact with King T’Evagduran,” Kylie said. “Zey were en route. Jhord and I can feel one another, zo she can lead them to us. Our concern is zat the dragons and pegasai are easily tracked and they’ll lead Odin’s forces to us.”

A knot formed in his stomach. “That is a problem.”

“Aye,” Laramis rumbled. “We have little choice though. Without that mobility it is only a matter of time before they run us to ground.” He sighed and looked to Wren. “It is too bad we do not have lady Zee with us, eh?”

The blonde savant let out a breath. “Yes, we could really use her and that ability to fly. Assuming I live, I’ll never hear the end of taking Irodee instead of her.”

“Zee talks too much,” Irodee said with a frown. “It was my turn.”

“I took you instead of her so she wouldn’t have another excuse to postpone her wedding.”

“She’s going to kill you for missing that wedding you know…” Euriel told her.

Wren frowned. “Well, it wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. All grandmother wanted me to do to grab Bannor and Sarai, read the teleport scroll and get out of there—and be back for the wedding. It just didn’t quite go right.”

“I don’t think it could have gone any more wrong,” Bannor grumbled. He let out a breath. “And if we’d just have listened we could have taken the alternate plan. Instead we messed it all up.”

“Wait,” Kalindinai raised a hand. “Wren, you told me you acted on your own.”

“No, I didn’t,” Wren answered. “I said I acted without mother and father’s knowledge or permission. I accepted responsibility, because I thought my Grandmother’s decision was right.”

“I still haven’t called her to task for that,” Euriel growled, flinging some twigs in the fire. “You are my child before hers, and she can’t just decide things like that.”

“Mother, I’m a big girl. She asked. I didn’t have to go along with it.”

“She shouldn’t have asked,” Euriel said in a dark voice.

Daena looked around. “Bannor, what’s this that happened?”

“Well, let’s see, Hecate invaded the lands on our home world, her avatars and demons chased us all around. It ended—” He stopped, not able to make a trivial account of what happened to Sarai.

“It could have gone better,” Wren said. She looked at Bannor. “He managed to kill Hecate and save all of us. Which Odin turned into a crime and an excuse to put us in Nifelheim.” She pointed up the mountain.

“Damn, that reeks,” Daena said looking at everyone wide-eyed.

“That’s what we thought,” Janai put in.

“What reeks the most is that Bannor’s sacrifice may not purchase our escape.” Laramis said. “Those Valkyries may catch us on the next pass. The situation is very tight.”

A brilliant flash rasped into the ground behind them, followed by a thunderous boom. A resonant voice, dark and masculine spoke. “You simply didn’t realize how tight.”

Everyone jumped to their feet and oriented on the noise.

Facing them dressed in green leather and gold boots, his long black hair bound with silver bands was Loki.

The god’s eyes had become fiery tongues of flame. “For your sake, Garmtur, I hope my daughter has not been slain. I will thank you now to tell me where she is. If I am not satisfied with your answer, I will slay everyone here, starting with you…”

I admit becoming a first one made me pretty cocky. I very nearly came to blows with Wren Kergatha in a jealous spat concerning Bannor. Then I saw her in a battle against the Bloodguard surrounding Asgard, and realized that I had almost unknowingly grabbed a dragon by the tail. Unfortunately for me, in fit of pique some fortnights afterward I forgot what I saw and took a swing at her. I learned, quite the hard way, the difference between strength and skill…

—Daena Sheento

Ward Prodigal of Malan

Chapter 33
Daena’s Talent

« ^ »

Bannor stared into the fiery eyes of Loki, the trickster and immortal enemy of the gods of Valhalla. Unlike the first time he’d seen the god, the creature no longer wore the semblance of frailty. His skin remained light and his face still looked angular and bird-like, but he now wore a far more massive body—one intended for combat.

Loki sought his daughter Hella. Unfortunately, nobody could give her to him even if they wanted to. Bannor thanked his luck that in this encounter three other savants were there in addition to the daughter of Idun, and a Valkyrie. Loki was far more powerful than Hecate or Hella, so even with their combined strength they might not be able to defeat him. Still, with this array of people teamed together, even a god would be unwise to trifle with them without good cause. If Loki insisted on a fight, he’d have his hands full.

“Loki,” Bannor said in a level voice, staring into the god’s red glowing eyes. “We didn’t kill Hella, and we can’t return her to you.”

A wind swirled through the outcrops. “Garmtur,” the god growled in a voice that made the rocks tremble. “Vex me not with dissembling. What have you done with her? She was last with you. Speak true or be slain.”

Behind him, Bannor heard activity and glanced back in time to see Daena break loose from the others trying to restrain her. She leaped to Bannor’s side. “Leave him alone,” she yelled. “Your stupid witch of a daughter killed herself! It wasn’t Bannor’s fault!”

Loki flinched, sparks of magic whirled around him. He stared at her, lip curling. “What are you…?” His voice trailed off, head listing to one side, burning eyes becoming slits. “Come here.” He pointed to a spot in front of him. Bannor saw a wave of magical threads wrap around Daena.

The young woman took a half-step forward. Her green eyes flashed red and a strange expression came over her face. A bluish glow flared around her body. She swung her hand edge-wise as though chopping a cord. Her arm sliced through the spell. She shook her head, planted her feet, and glared at Loki. “Where I stand is fine, thank you.”

The Trickster blinked and raised an eyebrow.

Daena sniffed. She trembled and her neck muscles tightened. She reached to her chest where the flux stone lay embedded in the bone. “Hella has words for you.”

“Words?” Loki repeated, his voice cracking. His brow furrowed. “Suddenly, you smell of my daughter’s magic. What is this message?”

Bannor glanced back at Euriel. The daughter of Idun and her husband stepped up on his right. Wren and Kylie moved up on Daena’s left.

Daena’s gaze went to Bannor and then to Wren, and Kylie. She drew a breath. Her hand shimmered and became translucent. She shuddered and when she spoke, her voice was Hella’s. “Patrada mi eteri su drada. Pragma…”

As she continued in the strange language Loki’s face tightened and his hands balled into fists. His throat muscles worked and the wind in the valley whipped into funnels of dust and debris. Whatever Daena said, the god didn’t like it, but he made no sign of interrupting her.

Daena finished and drew her hand away from the flux stone. She raised her chin, features hard. She pushed a hand through her auburn hair, pulling it back from narrowed eyes that glowed demon red. Her expression turned cold. She spoke, this time in a voice that rumbled the ground. “Hella—” Body shaking, she closed her hand into a fist. “I—chose this path. These people were not involved. Leave them alone.”

“Child,” Loki growled. “Dictate to me at your peril. You are not Hella. You collaborated in her death, along with that one.” He pointed at Bannor.

Her eyes narrowed. The young woman’s echoing voice dropped. “Loki—Father—do not force me to take your blood to be free.” Bannor grabbed her shoulder, but she continued heedless on the warning pressure he applied. “If you force me—I will kill you. I—we—have that power now.”

“You invite throttling, child,” the glow around Loki brightened.

“Yes.” She grabbed Bannor’s shoulder and pushed him behind her. “I did. Don’t start this—don’t force me to finish it.”

“Fah,” Loki scoffed. “You have Hella’s body, but not her knowledge. Without that, you’re nothing.” He made a shooing gesture. Daena reeled back several steps.

Straightening, she drew herself up, the glow around her brightened.

Bannor glanced to the others. Couldn’t Loki tell he wasn’t dealing with Hella or Daena, but both of them? Earlier, there had been no sign that the goddess had survived the transformation. What remained of Hella seemed to live in the flux stone.

“Nothing?” she said in harsh tone. Her eyes flashed and she tilted her shoulders forward. She laced her fingers and cracked her knuckles. “Say goodbye, Loki.” She poised her hand as though to flick a bug in the air.

The god raised an eyebrow. “Pardon? Goodbye? You must—”

By the time Loki spoke the word ‘you’ Bannor sensed the chaotic wave of threads spinning around Daena. He grabbed Euriel. “Down!” He warned pulling her to the ground as Daena flicked at a spot in the air.

They saw no explosion, no bright flash, simply a horrendous roar blended with Loki’s surprised yell as the trickster became a screaming fireball that shot off at an angle, rocketing over their heads like a meteor. The god fired a thousand paces across the valley to punch into a mountainside with a ground shaking blast.

Hands on hips, Daena stared at the flames and smoke rising from the distant crater. The red glow in her eyes faded. She sighed. When she spoke, it was in her normal voice. “ ‘Nothing’ that, bastard.”

Around her, the whole company stood frozen and stared at where Daena’s magic had slammed the Loki into the mountain with such phenomenal force.

“Oh spit,” Wren finally breathed. “That’s done it. He’ll be hacked now.”

Laramis was already pulling on Irodee’s arm, and the two of them gathered up the few possessions that they had. “You have the right of that, milady!”

Euriel dusted herself off. “What in Yggrasil’s name did she do!?”

“There’s no time, my wife,” Vanidaar said. He pulled her toward their belongings. He glanced back at Daena. “Smartly executed child, but unwisely done. Get your belongings.”

Bannor took her by the arm. “Come on.”

Kalindinai and Janai started collecting their things, still eying the flaming mountainside.

“How did she do that, Mother?” Janai asked.

The Queen only shook her head, amber eyes wide. “Unknown.” She stopped and shook her head again.

Kylie the Valkyrie, gave Daena a little punch on the shoulder and grinned. “Beauty. I am wishing I could be ze one who did that.”

The girl smiled and continued to do as Bannor bid. She picked up her trunk and swung it onto her shoulder. Irodee handed Bannor his pack and he put his arms through the straps.

In moments, the Myrmigyne was leading them out of the gully and down an animal path. The huge woman set a fast pace, cutting through bracken, and dodging around boulders.

Even with the heavy chest on her shoulder Daena didn’t appear to have any trouble keeping up. She stayed at Bannor’s side. “Does she know what she’s doing?”

“She’s a wood’s-crafter second to none,” he responded. He paused for a moment, watching the trail ahead of them, minding his feet on the rocks and tanglefoot. “Daena, are you all right—you sounded…”

She fixed glowing green eyes on him. “Like Hella?” The girl looked to the sky. “Yeah, it scared me too. I thought she was gone. That stone gave me the creeps from the start. Worst part is I need it!”

Wren who struggled, but was keeping pace just ahead of Bannor glanced back. “That really was Hella we heard?”

Daena frowned. “In a way.”

Wren dropped back next to Daena, her sweating face wearing a concerned expression. “Is there a chance she might take control?”

The young savant shook her head. “It’s not like that. For a moment, I realized I am her—or she is me. I don’t know which it is. Makes my head hurt.”

“Did you feel as though not in control?” Wren’s father asked from behind them. The man was tall and thin, obviously no athlete, but was managing.

“Actually, she held me back. I wanted thump him again real bad.” Her gaze sought Bannor. “Nobody hurts my—” Her voice caught. “Brother.”

Wren looked past Daena to Bannor with a raised eyebrow.

Vanidaar said, “We must thank Hella’s instincts, we tarried overlong as it was. The Valkyries would have certainly found us if you continued that fight.”

“I haven’t heard any yell from up the mountain,” Kalindinai huffed from the back of the group. “Dare we hope Loki won’t be after us tonight?”

“Matradomma,” Laramis called back from the front. “If we should be so lucky, we will be blessed indeed.”

Long moments passed as they put distance between them and the site of their encounter.

“Could she—could she have killed him?” Janai gasped. “We haven’t—haven’t heard anything and I—need to st-stop!”

The group slowed and let Janai catch up. Everyone made their way up behind some rock outcrops to shelter from the wind. They stood in the narrow space, hands on hips breathing hard.

Bannor’s chest ached and he drew breaths in forced series. Janai staggered up and leaned on Bannor for support, taking air in big gasps, amber eyes glowing in the semi-gloom. The once voluptuous princess was more than a stone lighter than she had ever been. When Bannor first met her, she did not seem the type to practice martially in any capacity. He’d seen her use a sword with fair competence, but it definitely wasn’t a skill she would make a trade with. She was a princess, she had no need to be in good physical condition. Sarai had always been concerned with being trained and trim, perhaps the youngest child’s desire to distinguish herself—especially in the eyes of her warlord father.

Kalindinai stopped by him and he put a hand on her shoulder. If the daughter was suffering, so might be the mother. The Queen was breathing hard, but trying stoically not to show her exhaustion. Kalindinai appeared reasonably fit when they first met beneath the mountains. Even with the healing of Idun’s fruit, they’d still spent a long time in a dungeon cell. “Milady, how are you fairing?”

The elder Elf shook her head and leaned on his shoulder for support. Daena put her trunk down and shook her arms. She smiled at Bannor.

“What are you grinning at?” Janai snapped. “I—can’t breathe—because of you!”

“I apologize for your discomfort, Highness,” she said with a little bow. “My intention was to protect us.”

“Thumping Loki is one thing,” Wren said. She pointed back the way they came to the fire and smoke rising into the night. “It’s that flaming beacon you installed on the mountain!”

Daena put hands on hips. “Well, pardon me for not being able to make a greater god go away quietly!”

The older savant sighed. “No one’s mad,” she looked around. “At least I’m not. What did you do anyway? It was mighty powerful. Is that something Hella did?”

Daena shook her head. “No, same ability I’ve always had. That particular power is usually just too dangerous to risk using. I can never tell which way something’ll fly.”

“Pardon milady,” Laramis said. “You do not control it?”

“Well, it’s just the way it works. As far as I can tell, we and everything around us are moving extremely fast through the universe. There is this force that surrounds everything—the same energy that makes things fall—that keeps things together and moving at the same speed.”

“Falling force,” Wren said. “I have some control over that—” She frowned at Bannor. “At least I used to.”

Daena rubbed a hand in her auburn hair. “That falling force is incredibly powerful and it works on things in more ways than we realize. If you cut off a little of it, an object floats. Block it all off and an object freezes in space. Unfortunately for whatever is affected, the rest of the universe keeps moving.”

“Woo,” Irodee whistled. “You make him ‘falling star’. He going at least that fast.”

“Ouch,” Janai murmured. “No wonder we haven’t heard him.”

Vanidaar who was leaning against a rock straightened up and walked over to Daena. The tall man’s face looked grim and serious. “I have one question. Did you consider the possibility that Loki might have come through us? Did you think about the risk of his flight possibly killing all of us?”

Daena narrowed glowing green eyes. She did not back down from Vanidaar’s intensity. The girl’s throat muscles worked. “He was going to try to kill everyone anyway. I figured it was worth the risk.”

The man let out breath. “Fine. I wanted to know if you considered the consequences.”

“Vanidaar…” Euriel said in chiding tone.

He turned to the daughter of Idun. “Ri, the stakes are high, and another misstep like that could get us all killed! As it is, she may have brought the Valkyries on us. Even with her and Bannor’s help we can’t fight a dozen of them!”

Bannor understood Vanidaar’s fear. Kylie and five other Valkyries had been more than he, Sarai and the dragons could handle. “Sir,” Bannor said. “Don’t be angry, there weren’t a lot of options.”

The Valkyrie nodded agreement. “She is young, and reacted swiftly. That quickness caught Loki off his guard. Even if he does awake, he won’t be quick to confront us. He doesn’t know that she can’t control that power.” She grinned. “Next time a mountain might not get in the way.” The golden-haired warrior looked at Daena. “It seems though, that she could use a teacher who knows the abilities of an immortal, yes?”

Daena’s green eyes widened. “You’d teach me?”

The Valkyrie nodded. “Odin does not know of you. We must take the advantage of that.”

“I hate to bear bad tidings, but we have rested as long as is safe,” Laramis said. “Baron Kergatha was right, the activity may have brought the Valkyries back, and we can ill afford discovery.”

“Oh no,” Janai groaned, pushing hands through her dark hair. She looked genuinely exhausted. “Laramis, I don’t think I can run anymore. It is so cold…”

“Milady, we must press on to have an measure of safety.”

“I’ll bring her,” Daena said. “It’s my fault we’re running. Just need another way to carry my things.” She kicked her trunk. “Thing was starting to annoy me anyway.” She bent, unlatched the lid, and opened it. Inside were clothes and other items. She pulled out a thick winter blouse, and a handed it to Janai. She handed another slightly thinner one to the Queen. “Here, they’re not much but they’ll help keep you warm.”

Janai clutched the fabric like Daena had handed back her life. “Oh, my gratitude abounds!” Another heartbeat and she was wriggling into a blouse that barely fit the busty elven lady.

Queen Kalindinai nodded to Daena as she pulled the shirt over her head and flipped her hair out. “Our thanks.”

The young woman looked into the chest again and found some gloves that she offered to Janai who took them as quickly as the other clothing cooing happily.

“I don’t know how to carry the rest,” Daena said looking at the remaining odd items. Bannor saw that most of it were things of sentimental value. A jewelry box and brush that were probably her mother’s, cameos and other small keepsakes.

“I will keep them for you,” Kylie said. She touched between her breasts and her hand glowed. She drew forth a flux stone similar to Daena’s only the Valkyrie’s was smaller, perhaps half the size with a greenish tint to the material. She looked to Daena. “With your permission?”

She nodded. “Please.”

The Valkyrie reached down to the trunk, closed the lid and pressed the hand containing the flux stone against the surface. The case abruptly appeared to shrink. At the same time, it seemed to fold upon itself. With a soft popping sound and the smell of thunderstruck air it vanished within the confines of the gem.

Daena’s jaw dropped and she touched the place where her own flux stone was hidden. “Whoa, can mine do that too?”

The Valkyrie nodded. “There is a great deal to know.”

The young woman smiled. “I hope I get the chance to learn.” She turned to Janai with a little bow. “We need to be off.” She knelt in front of the Elf princess. “Grab on. It won’t be comfortable, but you’ll be able to keep up.”

“My gratitude again,” she took hold around Daena’s neck and the savant turned first one organized the Elf to ride on her back.

Bannor turned to queen Kalindinai. “If you’re tired, I’m strong enough to carry you for a while.”

The Elf queen looked at Bannor. He knew she didn’t wish to appear weak in front of the others or her daughter. However, they had been through a lot. She hesitated. “Won’t I be—heavy?”

“I’ll manage, Matradomma,” he said looking into her amber eyes. He saw so much of Sarai in the Queen, or more correctly so much of the Queen was in Sarai. The princess had every bit of the fire and determination of this strong willed noble-lady. “It’s important that you stay safe.”

“Perhaps I should do it,” Kylie said. “She will be less of a burden to me.”

“Yes,” Bannor said. “But I think its best that you be free to fight if you have to. Our strongest warrior should be unburdened.” He focused on Kalindinai and knelt in front of her. “Matradomma?”

The Queen touched his face and nodded. She put her arms around his neck and he shifted to carry her.

“I have a little creation magic left that may help,” Euriel said. She spoke a few low words and touched Janai on the back with a glowing hand. Leather appeared around the princess’ body, forming a broad cradle on Daena’s back to make the load easier to bear.

She did the same for Kalindinai. The thick hide material distributed the weight and would make it far easier to carry the elf woman.

“Let us go,” Laramis said. “We should keep a steady pace.”

The group started.

As they moved down the trail, the Queen held close to Bannor’s shoulder. She spoke in a whisper to him. “Thank you, Bannor, I was—exhausted.”

“Sarai is the most important thing in my life,” he said, turning his head to see her from the corner of his eye. “She loves you, so you’re important to me too. I know you didn’t approve of me, but because you loved Sarai, you were willing to forebear. I appreciate that more than I can say.”

“You have made Sarai happy, and have showed your willingness to give your life for her. You’ve risked your life for Janai and myself, and freed us from that hole.” She tightened her grip on his chest and whispered. “I won’t forget.”

“Matradomma, your well wishes have been only a fraction of my concerns. It is your husband that seems the problem.”

“Get us all home,” the Queen said. “He won’t be. I promise.”

Bannor wondered if she would change that statement if she knew she had a grand-child on the way.

After moving at a quick pace for a quarter bell, Laramis slowed the party to a walk. They continued to move slowly for half a bell, no-one saying much, then he quickened their pace again. Standard field army forced march. Kalindinai was next to unconscious on his back. Bannor glanced over at Daena. Janai still clung to the girl’s neck, obviously no burden to immortal muscles and flesh. Sarai’s older sister whispered something to the young woman who nodded. Voice low, Janai was carrying on a conversation that Daena seemed raptly interested in.

Bannor glanced at his own passenger. The queen was worn out. She wasn’t likely to be any company on this long trek, not that he needed any right now. He had so much to think about. How to get back to Sarai, and what they would do once they were together. They had promised to do other tasks for Idun. He guessed that would be something he would put to Euriel. She would probably know what her mother was after, and could decide if they should still pursue it.

They continued to jog then walk for another two bells, weaving their way down out of the mountain pass into the warmer valleys. They were making good time. His bones were aching from the carrying the queen. She was big for an elf, and weighed at least five stone. The group had fallen into single file going down a narrow trail and he’d lagged significantly behind Daena. The whole time he could see the elf lady and the young woman had been speaking in hushed voices.

How could two such different people have so much to talk about so quickly? Feeling uneasy and curious he picked up his pace to catch a little of their conversation. He struggled to make out the words in the blowing wind.

“…take care of me,” Janai was saying. “I’ll make sure you get what you want.”

Daena’s chin rose. “You can do that?”

“My dear,” Janai said in a dreamy voice. “Get me back to Malan and you shall be amazed at what I can do. I’ll take care of you. Anything you want.”

“I only want one thing.”

“Ena,” Janai pressed her hands into Daena’s shoulders, and the girl rocked her head back against the elf. “You should set your sights higher, but if that’s all you want—” She paused. “I can arrange that. It will take some doing, but with your help, certainly not impossible.”

“You’re assuming we’ll get away from Odin.”

Janai rubbed a hand in the back of Daena’s hair. “We’ve got you now. Between, you, Bannor, Euriel, Kylie, not to mention my sister and the others, I think Odin will have to let us go. It will be too costly. He can’t want a war. Not for pride. It’s silly.”

Daena’s voice dropped. “Wars have been fought for less.”

Janai’s head drooped forward in acquiescence. “True. We can hope.”

The young savant nodded. “I’ll hope with you.” She smiled. “Does this mean you’re adopting me?”

“Child, you were my One the moment you put me on your back. Now and forever.” The elf pulled tight around Daena’s neck. At that moment, she seemed to sense Bannor was close. “Oh, hello, Bannor. Is Mother, okay?”

He looked down and touched Janai’s arm. “She’s fine. How about you?”

“I am fabulous,” the elf answered with a smile. “Daena and I are getting along splendid. She’s been very nice to me.”

“She says if we go back to Malan,” Daena said smiling. “I can live with her. I could live in a castle. Wouldn’t that be wizard?!”

Bannor bit down on the words that first came to mind. He knew how beguiling Janai could be. Daena was young, and he knew the Elf lady knew how to take advantage of an opportunity. “Yes,” he answered. “Sarai tells me her clothes closet is bigger than my whole house.”

“Whoa. Really? I’ve never had nice things. I mean—what I’m wearing now.” She indicated the garment that seemed to be painted onto her skin. “Is probably the nicest thing I’ve ever worn.”

“Ena,” Janai said. “I would take no greater pleasure than putting fine clothes on you. Elves love red hair, and you just go on and on. Dressing you up would be like playing with great big doll. It would be fun. We could walk around court and make all the ladies jealous.”

“You think so?”

“Think?” Janai shook her head. “I know it. Jealousy is just the start. My One, stay with me and people will be dying just to be your friend.”

“Whoa,” Daena breathed, glowing green eyes sparkling.

Bannor started to say something and stopped himself. For so long, he had heard Sarai call him, her One. The connotations never really came home to him until much later. Now Janai and Daena. The words themselves could be innocent enough. Instinct said that Janai had anything but innocent intentions. The only thing was how he could stop the Elf lady without alienating Daena at the same time.

As they continued to trudge into the night, he bit his lip and pondered how he keep this situation from becoming yet another problem to resolve.

It’s an interesting detail to note that every one of my friends and all but one of my new extended family have at one time or another had the powers of an immort. Kinda makes a guy feel a little left out…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 34
The Bait In Idun’s Trap

« ^ »

Breath making frosty plumes in the air, Bannor trudged in silence watching the tendrils of mist eddy around his feet. The starlight from Gladshiem’s brilliant sky provided as much illumination as two full moons. Outlined in the diffuse light the silhouettes of the rocks, snow-drifts, and scrub reminded Bannor of soldiers hunched down awaiting an ambush. Gusts of cold air prickled his skin and made his nose burn. Despite the chilly environment, his mouth tasted dry and leathery from the night’s marathon exertions. After five bells of forced march, the Queen felt like a lead weight on his back. He thanked the lords that Laramis was calling a halt. His legs and arms trembled with every step and it hurt to breathe.

The Justicar pointed to a rise in the valley where a rock fall had formed a natural pocket that would provide a defensible shelter. They all staggered up to the spot and he and Daena let the elves off their backs.

Kalindinai and Janai cleared away the brush and snow while he and the others leaned against a rock panting. At the same time, Kylie signaled Daena and the two women strode up to the opening and shifted the boulders to make space.

He watched in awe as the Valkyrie and the young savant muscled away a several ton rock. With their extra mass and tough skin, they could dig in their heels, slam a shoulder into a huge piece of granite and jolt it into motion. He rubbed his chest wondering how he survived a combat against one of these creatures.

Once cleared, the group staggered into the hollow and collapsed. A half bell passed before anyone communicated in anything but grunts and hand gestures.

Shoulders bowed they leaned against one another, eyes heavy-lidded, faces drawn and pale. With the shelf of rock only finger-widths above their heads, they stretched out their hands to a tiny fire, made with care to burn without smoke. The flickering light striped the low ceiling with shadows that danced like wraiths across the irregular surface. The smells of loamy dirt, sweaty bodies, and brush embers permeated the small chamber. Irodee passed around a water bag, reminding everyone that they needed to take little sips until they cooled down.

“Before we rest,” Euriel said to everyone. “Best to divvy up the restorative.” She took her bag, reached inside, and pulled out one of Idun’s golden fruits. They’d only used about a quarter of the magical ambrosia Bannor left them.

“I would have thought it all used by now,” Bannor said.

Idun’s daughter shook her head. “I rationed conservatively because I did not know how long we might be stranded. A thimble full can keep someone going for hours at a time. Slightly more healed Liandra. It is fortunate you told Laramis of it. This fruit has been our only source of nourishment.”

Using the long nail of her thumb, Euriel separated off a small piece and passed it to Irodee, then to Laramis and around the circle. She handed a bit to Bannor.

He took it feeling uneasy. “Isn’t it dangerous for me to eat this?”

Euriel raised an eyebrow. “That small a sliver? No.”

Trusting the mage knew what she was talking about, he dropped the material in his mouth, expecting the burst of ultra sweetness on his tongue. Closing his eyes he swallowed, feeling his body grow hot. Bugs seemed to buzz beneath his skin. An itchy sensation went through his scalp and the palms of his hands. The pain is his legs and back became less urgent, and the tightness in his chest loosened. He let out a breath.

Even that tiny amount caused an intense sensation. What had it been like for Sarai to consume an entire fruit? No wonder she screamed.

He watched as Kalindinai consumed her section, jaw locking, eyes squeezed shut, and fists clenched. She trembled and let out a quiet groan as the material released its energy into her body. She sighed and straightened. “Oh. It doesn’t make the ache in your stomach stop, but at least that empty burn goes away.”

Daena touched his shoulder looking concerned. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Just thinking about what Idun did to Sarai.”

Euriel raised an eyebrow. “My mother did something to Sarai? Bannor, she healed her.”

“For that, I thank her. However, she almost killed her too. She gave her an entire one of those fruits to eat without warning us what would happen.”

Wren put a hand to her mouth. “A whole one!? Did she have a flux stone?”

Bannor shook his head. “No, and the shock made her heart stop. Idun rescued her then. Idun only gave her a flux stone only after she promised to serve her.”

Euriel’s lips pressed to a line. “Kylie said that Lady Sif had gone to join the Thunder Lord in my Mother’s service. What has she been doing?”

“Well, Thor and I tangled. I knocked him down enough so that Sarai and I could shame him into joining Idun.” This caused the people around him to draw breaths in surprise. “Right before we left, Thor slammed Heimdall. So, he might have been pressed into service as well.” Bannor rubbed his hands together and stretched them out to the fire to warm them. “What’s important to know is that Idun plans to go to war. I’m fairly sure whether you and Wren come back safely, she’s going after Odin.”

Vanidaar frowned, and pulled his wife closer. Wren’s hands tightened on her mother’s shoulder. Euriel brushed at her hair and drew a breath. “What makes you think that?”

He shook his head. “Instinct. The feeling of the air when we left.”

Euriel rubbed her eyes. “Mother has wanted to have it out with him for centuries. We have to support her though, no one else will harbor us.”

Daena traced her finger in the dirt. “Lady Euriel, if your mother is our only ally, how come you haven’t called her for help? Couldn’t someone astral travel to tell her where we are and that we need help. Lords know what will be waiting to pounce on us tomorrow. Shouldn’t we get whatever assistance we can?”

The young woman’s question opened eyes and heads turned to the daughter of Idun. Wren pushed herself up on her arms. “Hey, she’s right. Why have we been holding off calling Nonna?”

“I—” Euriel frowned. “I hoped to keep her from confronting Odin.” She sighed. “If Bannor is right, then I hope in vain. I best call on her. I will rest some and get Vanidaar to help me make the astral journey.” Her eyes fixed on Daena. “Thank you for helping make up my mind.”

The young woman’s cheeks colored. “You’re kind.” She bowed her head.

Janai hugged Daena. “Marvelous!”

Bannor noticed Kalindinai frown at the princess. Perhaps she, like him, found Janai’s actions suspect. Bannor found it fortunate his new savant friend was female. The Elf lady would have a boy step-and-fetch in a heartbeat. He smiled to himself, just like Sarai did to him.

He knew what Janai wanted. She didn’t possess her mother’s powerful magic, or Sarai’s warrior skills. She did have a keen mind though.

It didn’t take a genius to see an opportunity in Daena. She was young, impressionable, and looking for acceptance. Being an orphan, she never had nice things or a special place to call home. Janai probably knew exactly what to offer Daena and how to approach it within a bell. The princess of the wealthiest nations on Titaan could certainly afford to be generous. Rooms in the palace, clothes, personal attention and affection—they were a miniscule price indeed to get the friendship and protection of an immortal.

On the surface, Daena seemed uncomfortable with Janai’s overt displays, but he noticed despite her demurrals she put up little resistance. For most of her young life she’d been treated like a cast off, she ached to be treated as someone special. The Elf lady saw a potential asset and committed herself to getting it. Daena was special, so it probably wasn’t hard for Janai to be sincere in her admiration. What concerned him were the promises he overheard the Lady making. Also, she had called Daena her ‘One’. He needed to learn what all that meant.

He looked up when he heard Janai speak, her voice pitched low and firm.

“You are all tight. You need to relax,” the Elf said to Daena. She scooted herself around behind the auburn-haired woman and started rubbing the young savant’s upper arms. “You carried me all night. Your shoulders must be sore.”

“Please don’t fuss,” Daena said. “I—Mmmm…” She arched her back against Janai. She looked around in surprise. “What did you just do?”

The Elf princess smiled, and gently turned Daena’s face back toward the front. “You live five centuries and you learn a trick or two.” She kneaded Daena’s neck and shoulders. “Even if you are immortal. You are not a machine. To function their best, the muscles and bones must be in proper adjustment.”

“Janai, you don’t have to… ummm.” The girl almost folded backward, into the Elf’s lap. Bannor had seen a brute of man punch Daena with all his strength and he barely made the young savant blink. She writhed against the Elf’s fingers, eyelids fluttering. “Lords… Janai what…”

“You have never been harmonized,” the princess said.

“Oh urrg,” Daena murmured, the glow in her green eyes flickering. “It’s like I can’t even feel my body. Nice.”

Janai nodded. “Good.” She ran a hand through Daena’s auburn hair. “Let yourself sleep. You need it more than you realize.”

In a few moments more, Daena lay asleep in Janai’s lap. Kylie who was sitting by Janai looked at the sleeping girl with a raised eyebrow. “Impressive.”

The Elf shrugged. “We each have our talents.”

The Valkyrie’s eyes narrowed and she glanced to Kalindinai. The Elf queen had watched the exchange. She didn’t respond, but he could see her thinking.

“It will be daybreak in a few bells,” Kylie said. “Euriel, do you wish me to wake you then?”

The woman nodded. “Please.” She looked around. “We should all rest. Tomorrow we run a gauntlet.”

Bannor lay back and made a pillow of his pack. Odin’s forces, anticipating the union of the two groups, would be waiting to destroy or capture all of them at one time. He didn’t know how they’d get through, but they were going to try.

Behind him, Kalindinai lay down as well. Her breathing was even and level for a few moments, then the Queen stirred. “Bannor,” she asked in a whisper.

“Yes, Matradomma?”

“My husband, Jhaann, he really is here? He is all right and with Sarai?”

“Truly,” he answered. “You’ll see him soon. All of you will be together. I promise.”

He felt the Queen’s hand touch his arm. “Thank you, Bannor—for taking care of my daughter. For loving her so much.”

He rolled over and gazed into her glowing amber eyes. “Thank you, Matradomma, for having a such an amazing daughter who cares about me.”

The Elf lady touched his face, her fingers delicate like feathers on his skin. “You’ll protect her won’t you?”

He felt a pang in his stomach reminding him of the time he failed. He’d received a rare opportunity—a second chance. “With my life.”

She drew her hand away and tucked it under her head. “Good,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Seeing Janai baby the young woman made him determined to get back to Sarai. He would hold her in his arms again. Anyone that tried to stop him would regret it. He simply needed to rest and prepare himself for the struggle tomorrow. He wagered that even with Idun’s help they’d still be fighting for their lives.

~*~

The quiet scrape of boots on stone roused Bannor. He had been so drained from the run, that he didn’t even recall nodding off. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes. He raised his head enough to see outside and down into the gully. The shadows looked sharp and distinct against a brighter periphery of light. He guessed it to be some two bells past dawn. Kylie bent and crawled in to kneel by Euriel and Vanidaar. She must have decided to let them rest a bit longer.

He realized he was perspiring and felt sticky hot. In the few bells of unconsciousness, he’d become sandwiched between Kalindinai and Daena. Obviously, both had been seeking warmth in their sleep and the heat of their proximity seemed almost incandescent.

He smiled, reminded of more peaceful times, when he and Sarai’s bedtimes were like a chase. He would fall asleep close to her and she would snuggle toward his warmth. It would grow too hot for him and he would roll away. She would move closer again, and he away throughout the night until no room remained for him to retreat.

Vanidaar and Euriel roused, rubbing their eyes and acknowledging with hand gestures they’d awakened. Kylie moved around toward where Daena slept. The Valkyrie cocked her head, gazing at the sleeping teen with a fond smile and a distant look in her eyes. Perhaps Daena reminded the Valkyrie of a child of hers. Bannor recalled the blonde warrior said she had several children. Apparently, she decided not to call the young savant to watch because she turned and returned to her sentry position near the opening.

Bannor’s attention went to Euriel as she quietly positioned herself to make the astral journey. Vanidaar made a pillow of his folded legs for her and stroked her brow. Wren roused and lay by her mother’s side holding her hand. From the other breathing nearby, Bannor guessed that everyone else was either asleep or merely lying quiet.

He saw Euriel’s threads of life force begin the complicated dance that indicated she was freeing her astral-body. He decided right then that the exchange should be watched. All their lives might rely on what she told Idun.

Bannor relaxed himself and envisioned the symbol of the Garmtur in order to free his spirit. He felt the familiar dizzying spiral into blackness followed by weightlessness. He regained awareness in time to see Euriel’s spirit form rising up toward the ceiling. He willed himself after her.

He reached the roof and felt something grab hold and yank him to a stop. He felt the heart of his body lurch in surprise. What the—?

—Going somewhere without me?—A female voice said in his mind.

He looked back and saw Daena’s dimmed down astral form.—Damn it, Daena, let go. She’s leaving!—Take me with you or you don’t go. Fair bet I can hold on tighter than you can pull.—

No time to argue. Her astral form had four times the strength of his and she knew it.—Hades, all right. Now, we have to catch up though!—Don’t worry.—She shot past him, and he felt her grab hold and launch them into the sky. In a heartbeat, their surroundings became a blur of velocity. Never before did he feel the speed of his flight, but she pulled them so fast it hurt. He felt like a string cranked too tight in a musical instrument.

—Hey! Ow! Hey!—he warned.

—What?—she asked, slowing so that the surroundings became streaks of clouds and landscape whizzing by. Ahead, he caught a glimpse of Euriel as she flicked through the clouds. Somehow Daena had stayed fixed on the woman even at that awesome velocity.

—Take it easy,—he thought to her, he felt a distant burning that he knew came from his body.—Damn. Since when are you such a veteran at this?—

She smiled in his mind.—Since you showed me. Astral travel feels good. It feels natural.—She pointed.—That giant castle must be our destination.—

Below them, the mammoth fortifications of Idun’s citadel spread out like a city. Gold minarets glistened in the morning light. Light flashed and winked from hundreds of windows, polished railings, and poised defensive weaponry. Euriel dove toward the center of the massive edifice, toward a stair-stepped central building with a domed roof. If Daena hadn’t been leading, he probably would have lost the daughter of Idun, but they put on burst of speed and kept her in view.

They plunged into a giant central hall. Silvery Idun, massive Thor, golden-haired Sif, shadowy Heimdall, and four Valkyries stood around the edge of a huge marble circle into which was carved a map of realms.

—Oooh,—Daena murmured in his mind, halting them hairs inside the chamber.

Sif was gesturing to a part of a map Bannor recognized as the northern border of Niflheim. “Odin is massing his power to strike here,” the goddess said.

Idun nodded. “That will give us the best opportunity to cut him off from the well—” She froze as Euriel’s astral image settled down in the middle of the map.

The goddess’ eyes widened. Thor pulled out his hammer, and Sif and Heimdall put hands on weapons.

“Apologies, Mother, for interrupting your conference.”

Idun blinked, the glow of her emerald eyes brightened. “Daughter! It is you!” She stepped forward and embraced the astral image as though it were physical.

—I know Idun now, who are the others?—Daena asked quietly in his mind.

—Heimdall is the one in black. Thor has the hammer. Sif is the one with gold hair. I don’t know the Valkyries.—

Mother and daughter broke apart. “Somehow, I knew the Garmtur would come through. I am much pleased my judgment was accurate.”

—Mother, we have nothing to celebrate as yet. Our forces are split apart and we have an entire vanguard on our trail.—

“Father is after them,” Thor growled, pulling at his beard. “Sif’s surmise was correct, they are what he is rallying after.”

Idun nodded to acknowledge Thor’s words. “My grand-daughter?”

—Shaken, but whole. Hella did her no good. Mother, did I hear right? You plan to press an attack?—

Idun dismissed the question. “Daughter, don’t worry about that. Show me where you are located. We must make immediate plans to get you relief.”

—I cannot be certain,—Euriel said looking at the map.—Somewhere here, I think.—She pointed.—We plan to join the dragons at the foot of Brondheim peak.—

“Worry not, Daughter, it will be seen to.” Idun nodded, looking at map. “This plays nicely. The dragons are to the north? Who accompanies them?”

—Sarai, the younger of the Sif’s Valkyries, some mercenaries mounted on pegasai, and King T’Evagduran.—

The goddess raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Later, I will want to hear how that was accomplished.” She turned to Sif. “Perhaps it is time that you and your lord went to collect your wayward Valkyrie. Will locating her be any problem?”

Sif shook her head.

“Beware, Idun,” Thor rumbled. “I will not raise a hand against my sire.”

“Killing Odin is not my desire,” Idun said in flat tone that rattled the walls. “What I seek is an end to his paranoid and destructive follies. You must know, Odinson, that his recent dementia is from going too long without the renewal. He must be forced into the slumber. We will be fighting to help him and protecting the prosperity of the realm.”

The Thundergod grunted and looked at his wife. She looked unsure. “What you say sounds right.” He looked at the god dressed in black. “What say you Heimdall?”

The guardian of Bifrost scratched his head. Bannor wasn’t a great judge of character, but this was no mental giant. “The Allfather has seemed overly agitated over things that matter naught. It is true that many millennia have passed since he underwent renewal.”

Idun sighed and looked at her daughter. “The foot of Brondheim peak, my child. The assistance will come.”

Bannor tugged on Daena.—Let’s go. I’ve seen enough.—His stomach burned. He hated being manipulated and made someone else’s pawn.

Together they left the dome and rose into the sky above Idun’s glittering citadel. Griffons, dragons, pegasai were rising from the higher towers to begin patrols. Now, at a more leisurely pace they rose through the clouds and back toward Niflheim.

—What an awesome place,—Daena thought to him, looking behind them.—Are we going back there?—Likely,—he answered.

The tone of his thought made her turn to him.—What’s wrong?—

He frowned, but doubted it showed on the features of his astral image.—Nothing. Daena—can you make it back without me? I need to scout around.—

She drifted so she was beneath him, flying on her back.—Sure.—She put fists on hips.—Just don’t think for an instant I believe that lame excuse though. You’re going off to see Sarai aren’t you?—

The young savant’s perception and directness caught him off guard. Her apparent youth sometimes made him forget how smart she was. Far off, his body sighed. It only made a rippling in his astral form.—Okay, you’re right, but I’d much rather tell her on my own.—

Colors danced through Daena’s astral body, and she straightened up to fly beside him.—Tell her what?—

He shook his head.—About the trap.—Trap!?—Daena exclaimed.—Bannor, what are you talking about? I heard every word. There was no mention of a trap!—Daena, when you get a few more summers in you, you’ll learn to hear the real plan and not the one they tell you.—The dark thought made his far away body tremble.—We’re playing the same damn role Idun set us to play from the beginning. I feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.—Teacher, enlighten me. I don’t understand.—Daena, the trap isn’t for us.—The timbre of his mental voice hardened.—The trap is for Odin.—We’re the bait.—

Idun… I have mixed feelings about her. She saved Sarai and gave me a chance to atone for a horrible sin. For that, I can never thank her enough. However, on the heels of that largess she manipulated us and tried to use us in a plot against Odin. Still, she stuck by us, and her daughter and grand daughter. Through their eyes she’s a great lady… but through mine… I still can’t forget how she tried to control Sarai…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 35
Idun’s Ultimatum

« ^ »

Bannor flew through the clouds northward following the thread that would lead him to Sarai. Before they left Idun’s citadel Sarai had used her flux stone to create a magical anchor between them and now he was using it the way she intended, to enable them to find each other if they ever became separated. Even though his body lay leagues away, he felt himself tremble. What he overheard in Idun’s conference had left him feeling foolish, angry, and afraid. He knew from the start that Idun was manipulating them, he simply never imagined the immensity of what she was trying to do—upset Odin from his rulership of the Aesir!

The goddess meant for he, Sarai, and the others to act as the bait, and worse yet—maybe the sacrifices as well. Since he learned that Odin instructed Hella to torture Wren and Euriel, Bannor felt the Allfather deserved some paybacks. Bannor would have liked to have been a part of some retribution on the god, but the fact was in the past few moons, he and his friends had all been pounded, chased, and closer to death than anyone should have to be. Just to survive he’d taken crazy chances and only through sheer luck did he manage to pull through alive. Only a fool pressed a poor position. Given the odds, theirs couldn’t get much worse.

No doubt, Idun planned to use their apparent weakness as a ruse in order to surprise the enemy. Strategically, it was a sound plan. When he served in the army, Bannor went out with a unit with tasked to do exactly that—draw out the enemy so defenders could cut them off and eliminate them. A third of the men in his group died. Of the ones slain, over half fell to friendly arrows. Knowing the indiscriminate nature of battle magic, the outcome couldn’t help but be similar for he and his friends.

He had to tell Sarai and T’Evagduran, warn them of what they might be flying into. He yearned to see his mate again. Even with his warning they might not be able to avoid this situation. He wanted to be with her one more time. There was always the possibility he might never get another chance to see her again.

The thought made his far away stomach tighten. He pushed the feelings down. They still had a weapon that neither Odin or Idun knew about—Daena. He glanced back the way he’d come. He saw nothing but clouds and the open panorama of the heavens. Despite there being nothing visible, he felt certain Daena was following. She’d already grown so skilled at astral travel that she was able to mask her presence so he couldn’t sense it. He wagered that if he used the Garmtur to energize his link to the young woman, he would find the other end terminated nearby.

At his request, the girl agreed to return to camp without him. Bannor knew her acquiescence came too easy. No doubt the instant she’d left visual range, she had probably turned around and come after him.

Bannor hadn’t bothered asking her not to follow. He remembered being fourteen. He might as well speak to a wall as tell her not to do something she’d already decided to do. Besides, he wasn’t her father, or her superior. He simply didn’t want Sarai to get the wrong idea, nor Daena to be upset by his closeness to his mate.

At least this way, she probably wouldn’t make herself visible and raise uncomfortable questions.

He felt himself nearing the end of the thread that connected him to his mate. Below him, he saw nothing but an empty valley. With the dragon’s ability to burrow in solid rock, their camp could reside anywhere enough stone existed to conceal them. They probably hadn’t broken camp yet. With luck, he’d get a few moments to share with Sarai.

Drawn by the thread, he dove into to a barren hilltop, piercing through its rock-studded surface and into its granite heart. A moment more and he dropped into a small chamber. Glowing embers cast the interior in a reddish light. Maac and seven of the mercenaries sat around prepping gear to leave. Kegari and Tymoril, now in humanoid form crouched near the back, their scaly bodies glistening in the dim illumination. Jhord the Valkyrie sat near them, braiding her flame red hair and saying something in a low voice. Steel colored hair shrouding his features, King T’Evagduran sat in a corner, hands moving rhythmically over the surface of his war-bow. Bannor’s gaze finally located the object of his search.

Silvery hair braided and looped around her neck, Sarai sat with her back to him, legs crossed, hands in her lap, and head bowed. As he approached he heard her humming a tune he recognized as an Elven war ballad.

He settled close to her. With effort he struggling to extend his senses, wanting to smell and touch his mate. Almost touching her, he detected a distant smoky scent threaded with dew-petal. After experiencing that for a moment, he whispered in her mind.—I heard my Star calling, and just had to come.—He ran his ephemeral hands through her hair watching the strands glow and sparkle.

Sarai’s head came up. “My One?” She looked around and saw his image. “Bannor!” She tried to hug him, but he wasn’t tangible enough to hold and her arms passed through him. He felt the warmth of her body mingle with his essence and it made him shiver.

Concentrating, he focused his astral energies to increase his tangibility. His image brightened, casting light in the chamber and causing all the mercenaries to lurch to their feet in surprise. Both dragons hissed, the ridges and spines on their bodies flaring in response to a threat. Jhord launched forward with a flaming sword in her hand, and T’Evagduran readied an arrow to fire.

“It is all right!” Sarai shouted. “It’s Bannor!”

Jhord skidded to a stop only a hand’s breadth away. She dropped the tip of her sword, then slammed it back into its sheath with a growl. Hazel eyes flashing she yelled, “Daffed man, don ya be knowin how ta knock?”

He smiled at the redheaded Valkyrie.—I’m glad to see you too, Jhord.—

Gold eyes intent on him, Kegari and Tymoril slid closer, the fins on their heads erect, the scales of their bodies flickering in a rainbow of colors. They both nodded to him.

—Kegari—Tymoril, I am pleased to see you as well.—

Both of them grinned at him, fangs gleaming white in their green faces.

He nodded to the King.—Dom’Ista. Matradomma sends her love. She and princess Janai are thinking of you.—

T’Evagduran put down his bow with a slight smile. “My thanks for carrying her message.”

Sarai hugged him again, this time with more success because he’d made himself more solid. To her, it probably felt like hugging something made of gossamer, but she seemed happy for the contact. “When you disappeared, the only thing that kept me from going crazy was my link to you. I knew you hadn’t died. For a while, you were so far away!”

He nodded.—Oh yes, I can’t even describe how far. It’s a long tale. When there’s time, I promise to leave nothing out. Right now, I bring news about our meeting at Brondheim peak. Odin knows we plan to meet there and is massing his forces. Thor and Sif, will be along to escort your group to the location.—

“Thor and Sif—escorting us?” Sarai said. “My One, whatever are you talking about?”

King T’Evagduran’s chin came up, and he stepped closer, his gray eyes intense. A veteran of dozens of wars, he immediately seemed to grasp what Bannor was getting ready to say.

—Euriel contacted Idun astrally. She’s sending forces that will be coming to back us up in the fight.—

Sarai’s brow furrowed. “I don’t see. If Idun is sending help, why do we even have to go to the meeting spot at all?”

King T’Evagduran came and put a hand on Sarai’s shoulder. “So, is Idun sending an ‘escort’ for your team as well?”

Bannor felt his far away body tremble again.—I’m afraid so.—

Sarai frowned. “Father?”

“Idun knows the meeting spot now and will deliberately let Odin find out.” He turned his gaze slowly toward Tymoril and Kegari. The two dragons folded their arms and matched his gaze with frowns. The King turned his attention back to Bannor. “We’re weakened and will seem like easy prey. When the enemy forces reveal themselves to spring their attack, they will be open to a counter offensive.”

Sarai stiffened and her violet eyes widened. “She wants to use us as bait!?” She put hands on hips. “I don’t suppose she was planning to ask us if that’s what we wanted to do?”

Tymoril and Kegari both growled, bodies stiffening, and golden slit eyes lighting up.

Bannor glanced at them.—I don’t know her whole plan, I left before hearing it all. Preparations need to start immediately. Now, she’ll have to reinforce us some, otherwise we won’t hold Odin’s attention long enough for her to do anything. Besides, Wren and Euriel will be with us, she won’t get them slaughtered out of hand. I wanted us to be ready in case she decides not to share that she elected us to be the lure to her snare. I also wanted to come here and tell you I love you.—

He paused, staring into the violet glow of Sarai’s eyes as she smiled in response to his words. Rapt, he watched the ebb and flow of the magical threads spinning around and through her body. The patterns they formed were as beautiful as their owner. Concentrating, he lifted her hands in his.—We’ll pull through this. I’ll find a way. We have a surprise that neither Odin nor Idun is aware of.—

Bannor straightened as his gaze swept down the curves of Sarai’s sleek body sheathed in gold armor to their unborn child. The baby already had developed enough to have an aura. He stared in fascination, watching the life threads intertwined with her mother’s as they grew in complexity from moment to moment. His child, something that he and Sarai made together that was unique to them. He was still learning to be a husband, but no matter what, he would learn to be a good father. His child would get the love and attention his sire denied him. He studied that beautiful spark. He had to protect them both. Seeing their intertwined patterns, he realized something startling.—Sarai, you know our child already has magic?—

Her eyes widened, she drew a breath and touched her abdomen. “My One?”

—Yes, and she isn’t even born yet. More important, her magic is tied to yours. Any backlash to you, will be to both of you. I don’t think I have to tell you how fragile she is right now. Please be careful. I know it’s easy to say considering what we’re heading toward. All I ask is that you be mindful.—

She reached up to his face. “I will, my One. I promise.”

He put both of his translucent hands around hers.—I would stay longer, but I have to conserve my energy.—He gazed into her eyes, taking in her scent, and details of every plane and angle of her slender face.—I will see you again. Soon.—He kissed her on the forehead and rose toward the ceiling.

Bannor heard the sounds of their goodbyes dwindle behind him as he penetrated the rock and shot upward. Once he’d risen above the hilltop into the light, he decided to satisfy his curiosity. With the Garmtur’s power, he energized his link to Daena.

It took a moment to trace it back to where it met Eternity and folded back to the young woman. The line terminated less than twenty paces away. He looked where his nola told him she should be. He saw no evidence of her. How was she cloaking all that magic? Even her threads of power weren’t visible.

He looked toward the spot where he knew she must be.—Might as well become visible Daena, I know you’re there.—

He continued to stare at empty space. Daena did not respond. However, the end of the thread flicked several paces off to his left. He turned and focused on her new location.

—We don’t have time for games.—Damn it,—the young savant growled in his mind, shimmering into view.—I thought I had the stealth down perfect!—

He shook his head.—Deana, you do have it perfect, or at least so good I can’t see you. I have other ways of tracking you that’s all. Let’s go. We’ll talk about spying later.—He shot off toward Niflheim, not bothering to see if she followed. He knew that while astral, she could run circles around him.

She caught up to him in heartbeats, and floated at his shoulder.—You’re not mad, are you?—We’re friends. We forgive—He smiled.—Sometimes we forget.—Thanks. You know, Sarai is very beautiful,—Daena said in his mind, with a trace of sadness.—She loves you a lot.—Yes.—

There was a long pause, and in that time they covered the distance to the mountain camp.—Bannor, I promise not to let anything happen to her or Janai.—

As they angled down toward the tumble of rocks Bannor thought to her.—I appreciate that. Look after yourself first though. Do what the battle hands like Laramis and Kylie tell you to do, even if it doesn’t make sense, okay? Now, more than ever we have to trust one another.—

As he slipped into the chamber and into his body, Bannor found his mention of trust ironic. After all, he seemed to be trusting fewer and fewer people every day. Everyone was awake and most of the eyes were on Daena and his resting bodies. As he clawed his way up through the blackness back to consciousness, he wondered if he really trusted anyone completely anymore.

Kalindinai was looking down at him when he opened his eyes. He rubbed his face and blinked.

“Where have you been?” she asked, amber eyes bright. “As if I needed to guess.”

“Jhaann and Sarai send their best,” he slurred, forced to clear his throat.

Daena sat up and ran a hand through her hair. Janai sat right by her. It seemed the princess would indeed be clinging to Daena like bark on a tree.

“You should warn us before taking trips like those,” Wren said, feeding some twigs to their tiny fire. “We were getting ready to search for you.”

Arms folded, Euriel frowned at him from her position between Wren and her husband Vanidaar. “Bannor, did you spy on me?”

He nodded. “I confess. I left around the time she promised assistance.” He kept his gaze steady on her. “Actually, I should say I left when it became clear that going to Brondheim peak was not going to be optional.”

The daughter of Idun swallowed, and pressed her lips to a line. “I’m hoping mother will reconsider. I take it you informed the others?”

“Of course,” he answered.

Laramis who was polishing one of the few swords the group possessed straightened up. “Informed the others of what, my friend?”

Bannor grimaced. “Euriel probably just told you Idun is sending help. What she probably hasn’t had time to inform you is that we’re going to be part of Idun’s offensive against Odin.”

The Justicar froze, his hand locking on the blade of the weapon. “Pardon?”

“Teeth of the serpent, old boy. We get to hold their attention long enough for Idun to close the jaws on them.”

Laramis stared at him. “You must be mistaken she can’t think—” He stopped when Euriel nodded. “Damn.” He looked to Irodee and took her hand. The big Myrmigyne laced her fingers in his and smiled. Those two had faced death more than once together.

“It will be tight. Idun’s proxy will be here soon to make sure we—” A gust of air roaring through the ravine cut off his words. Just outside of their rock enclosure, a pinpoint of light appeared a few paces above the ground. The illumination stretched into a line, then swelled into the shape of a person. With a thump of air, the image snapped into focus revealing a tall blonde woman dressed in silver—Idun.

Wearing a form for battle, she stood head and shoulders taller than even giant Irodee. She stared at them with emerald eyes. “I don’t send proxies where my daughter and grand-daughter are concerned.”

“Grandmother,” Wren scrambled out of the tight confines and toward the goddess. She wobbled and staggered the last few steps into the immortal’s arms.

Idun scooped up the blonde savant in a hug. “So, my little bird is still hopping, with all of her fingers and toes yet.” She took Wren’s shoulders and held her back. Her eyes narrowed and the ground rattled. “Hella had no call to hurt you like this. She and Odin will both rue lifting a hand against my children.”

Idun put an arm around Wren, the blonde savant looked like a toddler with her arm around the leg of the huge immortal. One by one, the members of their group crawled out of their stone haven, and rose to stand in the light of morning. Daena took a position beside him, Janai still clinging to her arm. Kylie, Laramis and Irodee arrayed themselves next to auburn haired girl. Euriel went to her mother and gave her a real hug this time. They embraced in silence, with the only sounds being that of the wind and riffling clothing. The scent of winterflower, thick and heavy swirled around them.

Euriel’s voice sounded tight. “Mother, you mentioned nothing of your coming here in the plan we discussed.”

Idun’s chin rose and her gaze found Bannor. “I became aware that certain people might try to undermine my plan. So, in the interests of success, I felt it wisest to oversee things personally. I plan to end Odin’s insanity today. It’s unfortunate that I must say this, but all of you are going to assist in this—whether you want to or not.”

Janai is an interesting Elf, completely predictable in her unpredictability. When you think she’s weak—she’s strong. When you think she’s ignorant—she has the key bit of information. She is positively uncanny with a bow, even one she shouldn’t even be able to pull. There are times I’ve wondered what would have happened if I had met her instead of Sarai…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 36
Immortal Battleplan

« ^ »

The last of Idun’s words echoed through the rocky gully, spoken in a dark a final tone that made Bannor’s skin prickle. As he stared at the blonde female towering over their party a shudder went through him. Emerald eyes intense, the goddess scanned the faces of the people facing her. The morning light cast rosy reflections from the reflective silver fabric covering her body. The chill wind hummed. Warming ice crackled. The musky-sweet scent of winterflower hung pungent and heavy in the air.

Looking like a toddler next to huge Idun, Wren frowned up at her. Nobody liked threats, especially coming from someone you knew well.

Bannor gritted his teeth. Sarai, her family, his friends, and now Daena all counted on him to help restore order to their lives. After he managed the near impossible dungeon break from Niflheim, Odin had redoubled his efforts to capture them. Clearly, the All-father was determined to see them all dead or in prison. Now, Idun had confronted them saying they must turn and fight the enemy or she would force them to do so. The same enemy they couldn’t possibly defeat.

Next to him, Daena straightened, shoulders rolling forward, glowing green eyes flashing. Feeling her energy increase, Bannor grabbed her arm and focused a thought into her mind.—Be still! Mask your aura like you did to hide from me. Do it before she notices!—

Face hard and fists clenched, her attention snapped to him. For a tense moment, he thought she would defy him, then the girl bowed her head and closed her eyes. Through the Garmtur, Bannor saw her aura dim and fade out. When she raised her head again, she gazed at him with hazel eyes no different from any other human.—Hope you have a good reason. That witch cannot just appear out of nowhere and order us to get ourselves killed on her say-so.—

Inwardly, Bannor sighed. If Daena had gone after Idun, there was no telling what might have happened.—Let the others argue that point, I want to keep you a secret, in case we need the element of surprise later.—

She wrinkled her nose, chin coming up as she stared Idun’s direction. Flashes of red glinted in her eyes.—All right, but she better change her tone.—

Standing at Daena’s shoulder, the girl’s tensing attracted Janai’s attention. The Elf’s gaze went to the young woman’s face. Bannor saw Janai’s shocked expression and grabbed her arm before she voiced her concern.

Gaze locked on Janai, he indicated Daena with his eyes and put a finger to his lips. “Let’s keep her our secret,” he whispered in Janai’s ear.

The princess drew a breath and nodded.

At the same time he held Daena back, Euriel had launched herself forward. “Matra!” She cried, throwing her hands out in a gesture of consternation. “These are my friends! You can’t—”

Idun cut her off with a sweep of her hand. “Daughter, stop. We must capitalize on this prime opportunity to end Odin’s vendetta.”

“Majesty,” Laramis said bowing to Idun. “I fail to see this ‘opportunity’. They outmatch us a thousand-to-one in power.”

“He’s right, Grandmother,” Wren said, reaching up to take Idun’s fingers in both hands. Her voice sounded tight, and Bannor saw the play of emotions on her face. The blonde savant obviously respected and loved the goddess. “Even if we were all ten times stronger we couldn’t—”

“I realize your limitations! Support for our family was disappointing. So we must solve the problem on our own. We are heavily outmatched. So, the odds must be somehow made even. I found a way. Rather than increasing our strength, I will reduce theirs.” She paused. “I will take their immortality.”

Eyes widened and bodies stiffened. Bannor felt his heart skip a beat. Idun must be desperate to propose something so extreme. Even thinking of striking at her peers in such a fashion would be considered traitorous. She risked the entire pantheon turning against her.

Idun nodded at everyone’s reaction. A cold gust of wind swirled through the gully. “Ah, I have your attention now—good.” Hooking and arm around Wren’s waist, she floated the two of them up to the top of large boulder. The blonde savant arranged herself next to the goddess as though nothing had happened. Apparently, she was accustomed to the goddess’ whims. Seated on the boulder’s crown, Idun leaned toward them, hands on knees. Her voice turned icy. “As mortals, they can bleed. We’ll see how much stomach these bullies have for battle when the odds aren’t so stacked in their favor.”

Sitting next to her, Wren frowned. “Nonna, good as it sounds, it can’t be that easy to do. Surely there must be a catch.”

Idun eyed her granddaughter. “Easy—no. The ‘catch’ is that it must be a battlefield I have prepared, and I can only make it last for about a bell.”

“A bell isn’t very long,” Bannor said.

“No,” Idun admitted. “We will have to strike swiftly. We let them come after us smelling the kill, then round on them when they expect surrender.”

“Matra,” Euriel said. “Odin and Tyr might balk, but Thor’s brother Vidar won’t. Even as a mortal, it will take half of us to handle him. He is stronger than Thor, and a better fighter.”

Bannor felt a charge go through him, a spark of confidence. “Wait! We can do this. I can feel it. If this Vidar is a problem—” He looked at Daena and gave her a wink. The young savant gave him a mischievous smile in return. “We toss him out of the battle.”

Kylie and the others standing around him saw his eye contact with Daena and smiles spread across their faces. No-one would soon forget seeing Loki shoot across the valley into the mountainside. The Valkyrie nodded. “Bannor is right, we can keep him from being ze nuisance. However, this stealing of the powers immortal. Will not my abilities and your daughter’s be affected as well?”

“Yes,” Idun admitted. “Essentially, I am isolating them from all outside sources of energy. Our advantage is we will go in prepared and will have taken extra magic with us. These I grew expressly for that purpose.” She reached into a pouch on her side and pulled out one of the golden fruits. Its translucent skin gleamed and reddish sparkles danced on its surface. She tossed it to Kylie who caught it, and dropped one to Euriel. “I brought these and flux stones for everyone. The tough obstacle is that while I can cut off their unlimited powers, I cannot eliminate their stored magic. Flux stones can hold a great deal of force.”

Sarai was proof of Idun’s statement. She had been thriving on the energy of two of Idun’s fruits for almost two fortnights. She made daily use of that power, and still showed no signs of exhausting her resources.

“So, they must be forced to consume their remaining magic before they become mortal?” Laramis asked arms folded.

“Yes,” Idun answered. Something seemed to catch her attention for the first time she seemed to notice Daena. She bent down to Wren and there was brief but silent exchange. Idun pressed her lips to a line then continued. “Using the fruits, you should be strong enough to get them on the defensive.”

“Majesty, a question,” Bannor said, a plan of his own solidifying. “Will it be safe for Wren to eat the fruit?”

Idun’s expression tightened. “It should be. Why?”

Bannor put his fist to his lips. The more he thought about it, the more confident he became. Maybe there might be a way to get through this alive. “Well, the biggest threat to us is from their magic. We’re mostly warriors. If we can’t get past their magic, we’ll never land a blow. Wren can resist magic with her nola. Normally, this many immortals could overwhelm her even weakened. The fruit should give Wren enough of a boost to handle them. My understanding is flux stones can be linked so that several creatures can pool their abilities. If I’m right, Wren could work through the flux stones to protect us all.”

“Like how gods protect their avatars!” Kalindinai said abruptly.

Perched on the boulder, Idun stared at Bannor for a moment then said. “It is how our primary avatars are empowered.” She put an arm around Wren. “If she wishes, I can make the flux stones work as Bannor says.”

Wren glanced at Idun in surprise. “Whoa. Sounds like a big load, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

Daena canted her head to one side and raised a hand. “Ummm, this may be a naïve question, but if we are all synchronin daretaben—doesn’t it mean if they overwhelm Wren—they crush all of us at once?”

Faces went pale. There were glances cast toward Daena, then to Idun for confirmation. At the mention of the words ‘synchronin daretaben’ the goddess’ already dark expression grew even more stormy. Bannor guessed the words were more of Daena’s mingling with Hella showing. He didn’t know what they meant, but Idun obviously did.

“It’s the risk you assume to get the benefits of that defense. For my part, I will try to keep them occupied enough they don’t discover that weakness.”

“Another possibility is I can share my Nola too,” he said. “I can’t eat the fruit, but I can use a flux stone. Kalindinai helped me—”

“No!” Idun burst out. “We will not even consider that. There is little enough control over you. The other tactics should be enough to win the day. What do you say? Is it enough to stand with me?”

“I shall,” Laramis rumbled, smacking a fist into his palm. “I tire of running from these bounders.”

Irodee brushed back the long dark hair from her face and put an arm around her husband’s neck. She grinned, but her brown eyes were fierce. She tugged on Laramis’ ear and mimicked his twang. “Aye, twill be the both of us.”

Queen Kalindinai straightened up, laced her fingers, and cracked her knuckles in a very un-ladylike gesture. “I am ready to pay back my prison stay.”

Wearing a tight expression, Janai raised her chin. “Malan fights as one.”

Vanidaar looked at the others, smoothed his mustache, and pulled Euriel tight against him. He kissed her on the neck. “Odin ordered my daughter and wife tortured. I will not miss a chance for a reckoning.”

Euriel stroked her husband’s face. “Neither shall I.”

Wren laced her fingers with Idun’s, her hand tiny inside of goddess’. “I don’t want to miss seeing Nonna punch Odin in the nose.”

Grinning, Idun pushed her fingers through Wren’s hair. “If I have my way, a bloody nose is the least of his problems.” Her emerald eyes flashed. “He tried to plunder our family. We shall teach him the cost of his aggression.”

“Guess it’s decided,” Bannor said. “Do you have armaments for us?”

Idun chuckled. “Oh yes. I have warrior’s toys aplenty.”

“Cheer-o then,” Laramis said, brandishing a clenched fist. “Leave us to it. I have been feeling naked far too long.”

As Idun said, she did indeed bring a fine assortment of warrior’s appointments, as well as providing sturdy clothing designed for the elements. She laid out razor-edged war-wands any knight would fight an army to acquire. There were dragon-hide hauberks, mithril chain armor, shields and every other detail one might find at fine armory.

Separate from other equipment, the goddess set out items of Freyr-kin make, tunics and breeches of star-silk, moon-glow cuirasses, and gryphon-hide boots. Idun then unveiled four mated sets of indigo sky-steel blades that included a caan-sword, dan-sword, rib-hook, and eye-biter. The last items she offered were six quivers of fine arrows and three nine-span great-bows, two made from bloodwood, and another made of coal-black shadowspar. As Idun leaned the last weapon against a rock, Janai stepped forward and took it up.

Compared to the Princess, the bow looked huge, the laminated wood layered as thick as Bannor’s wrist. It appeared better suited to someone Irodee’s size. Despite the weapon’s heft, Janai took up the string, stepped her hip into the recurve, and strung it in one smooth motion. With a toss of her hair, she picked out three arrows, put two in her teeth and fitted the third to the string.

Bannor’s surprise increased as she drew back the string, swung the point toward a narrow whip of a tree forty paces away and let fly. The arrow had barely left the bow before she had fitted and drawn the next. She let go the third with equal speed. The shafts hissed out and whacked shuddering into the narrow bole each a finger-width apart.

Amber eyes glinting with a hard and dangerous resolve, Janai tightened her fist on the weapon and gave it a little shake. Without pausing, she moved to the other Freyr-kin armaments and started equipping herself.

The princess stopped and glanced around realizing that everyone was staring at her in a paralyzed silence. This wasn’t the same whiny scheming Janai everyone had trekked the last few days with.

“What? Did I suddenly turn green or something?” She asked. She caressed the huge black recurve. “Swordplay, magic, strategy … fah!” She held the bow up. “Now—this, I know. Give me a target—” She spun the bow around her wrist and caught it. “If I can see it—I can put a shaft in it.”

Queen Kalindinai smiled with the expression of a proud mother. “She’s never lost an archery tournament. She even beat her father once.”

Janai snorted. “I will never do that again. He refused to talk with me for fortnights. Father and Sarai take themselves so seriously. They do virtually everything well, but hate that I trounce them in archery. Such silliness.” She started looking through the tunics. “Mother, do you prefer blue or green?”

They all looked at one-another with bemused smiles. The one Bannor thought would be the biggest liability was stronger than he knew. He understood Sarai’s competitiveness with Janai now. The older sister picked her victories and made it look effortless. In battle training, he met some naturals; the ones who never needed to work at it. He remembered the humiliating feel of getting beaten by someone who never practiced or even made a full effort. Having a natural for an older sister, especially one who loved teasing as much as Janai, would make the mildest sibling into a fierce rival.

Over their shock, everyone fell to the task of getting themselves ready for the fight. Bannor noticed that as Idun helped them prepare, her attention kept drifting to Daena. As she handed the fruits and flux stones to each person, she glanced at him from time to time.

Concerned with getting his own equipment ready, he couldn’t spare much thought for it. While the others would gain extra strength and resilience from the fruit like Sarai did, he would be going into the battle nearly as vulnerable as ever. He touched Thor’s gauntlets on his side, debating whether to put them back on for this fight. He drew a breath a let it out slow, wishing Sarai was here. He wanted to look into her eyes, feel her touch. Going to Sarai while astral had blunted his desire, but it was still no substitute for holding her in his arms.

~*~

Tightening the bands on his arms, cinching up his mail, and checking the straps on his weapons, he gave himself one final inspection. He bent and pulled one of his boot laces a bit tighter and pronounced himself ready.

“Feeling okay?” he heard Wren ask.

He looked up and saw the Kel’Varan as he had never seen her before. She wore a silver battle mesh over a dragon-hide hauberk. Fingerless gloves with spiked knuckles and wrist-guards encased her arms, and she wore an array of throwing knives sheathed on both forearms and on either thigh. Bannor had seen the savant’s incredible throwing accuracy, she obviously planned to make liberal use of it. She’d pulled her blonde hair back and braided it in the style of Valkyries.

“Okay, I suppose,” he answered. “I’ve been in so many battles recently, I don’t even feel the nerves anymore.”

Wren nodded. “I know what you mean. I wanted to say, your idea may save all our skins. You’ve sure done plenty of that recently. One thing though—it won’t work unless you put my Nola back the way you found it.”

Bannor winced. “Damn, that’s right. Come here and I’ll fix it.”

She slid close, studying him with intense blue eyes. “You can fix it, right?”

He grinned and placed a hand on her forehead. “Guess we’ll find out.” He closed his eyes, envisioning the whirling tracery of his ‘self’. He held his breath, merging with the pattern and the power of the Garmtur.

Bannor felt his awareness expand, feeling Wren’s presence like a frosty kiss behind his eyes. He studied the tangled skein of energies he knew to be his friend and her ties to the power of Eternity. He examined the patchwork that he had tied off, rerouted, and transposed in order to enable some another savant’s powers to operate within her body. Putting everything back the way he initially found them proved much easier than changing her powers had been. Her body appeared to have a sense for its natural configuration, and the proper threads slid into their original places with little urging.

He drew back from her and opened his eyes. “That should do it.”

The blonde woman shuddered and shook her head. “Damn, that nola of yours is scary.” She bounced up on her toes. “I was so desperate to have mine back.” She went up on tiptoes and kissed him. She had a tart sweet odor reminiscent spice leaves and nectar, totally different from Sarai, but none-the-less pleasant. “Thanks for figuring out how to get me out of that cell. Bigger thanks for being able to put me back. Yes!” She pumped a fist. “Oh yes, that feels so much better!” She hugged him again.

Wren was strong and warm, and while there’d been times he didn’t trust her, he realized he never stopped liking her. “We savants have to stick together.”

Someone sniffed. “Well, maybe not that close,” Daena said in her unusually clear diction from behind him.

They turned toward the young savant who brushed back her auburn hair. Janai had dressed her in the style of Elven battle maid, arranging the Freyr-kin armor and weapons and clothing in traditional positions of the four elements. Each bit of cloth and ribbon had symbolic meaning. Bannor only remembered the colors. Brown the color of the stone on the feet, the sky-blue headband and throat tie, right was flaming red, and on the left watery green.

Wren leaned back, making particular effort not to move her arms from around Bannor’s neck. “Meaning?”

The gesture wasn’t lost on Daena. “Too much touching can be unhealthy.”

The savant nodded. Her voice took on a frosty edge. “Piece of advice kid. Don’t mark territory on someone else’s turf. I’ll grant that you’re strong, but that doesn’t impress me. Do yourself a favor—don’t look for fights.”

Deana brushed back her auburn hair and put hands on hips. Her tone darkened. “You must think you’re pretty tough.”

Wren slid around so she could face Daena, she deliberately made a point of leaving a hand on Bannor’s shoulder. She looked up at the bigger woman, gaze intense. “Girl, your mouth is running up debts your skills can’t pay.”

Bannor pulled blonde savant’s hand off his shoulder, and put a hard edge in his voice. “Cork it, Wren. Daena, careful who you threaten so you don’t get your butt stomped.”

“Stomped?” The auburn-haired girl snorted. “By her?”

Wren licked her lips. “Try it, Red. I’ll climb you like a tree.”

“Daena, I said stop it,” he snapped. “We have enough enemies, last thing we need is to fight with one another.”

“Let her go, Bannor,” Wren urged, face tight. “Every savant, especially these young ones, need to learn a little humility.”

“Hey, now you’re starting to hack me, Wren.” Bannor made a low rumble in his throat. “Back—off or it’ll be you and I that tangle.”

The blonde woman glared at him.

The ground shook, startling all three of them. A female voice rumbled from behind them. “Threatening my grand-daughter is an unwise proposition, Garmtur.” Frowning, Idun took another ground shaking step and loomed over them, casting a shadow that made him grow cold. The goddess was big, powerful, and annoyed.

Daena looked from Wren to Idun and sniffed. She brushed back her hair and stepped over beside Bannor, and folded her arms. Bannor looked to the girl feeling a spark of irritation. Her possessiveness was what started this disagreement.

Idun’s presence seemed to break Wren’s angry mood. “It’s all right, Nonna. All that time in the cell has my fur brushed the wrong way is all.” She stared at Daena.

Bannor realized then why Wren was being hostile. This was not only Daena—but Hella. The goddess that had tortured her and Euriel. Even the superficial resemblance between the two was probably enough to make the blonde savant angry with her.

“I care not for reasons or excuses,” Idun rumbled. “You are my blood, you will conduct yourself with restraint.” She narrowed glowing eyes, and brushed at her gold hair, meeting Bannor’s eyes then Daena’s. “You two would be wise not to tempt my ire with such foolish behavior.”

“Apologies,” Bannor said, glancing again at Daena with a frown. “It is my fault.”

Idun snorted. “I know well enough that it’s not your fault, Bannor.” She raised her chin, gripped Wren’s shoulder and gave it a shake. “It’s two competitive young women with an axe to grind and no trees to trim.” The goddess put her arm around Wren’s neck and pulled her close. She gazed at Daena. “Are you planning on giving us trouble, Lady—?”

“Daena,” the auburn-haired savant answered. She shifted so that she bumped against Bannor. “Daena Sheento. No, Milady—I have no trouble planned.”

Bannor stared at her, lips pressed to a line. She was definitely feeling the courage of one who was practically invulnerable and knowing it. Of course, what did he expect? Regardless of appearances, Daena was a child barely into her middle teens. She was street cynical and carrying a freight of anger at the unfairness of the universe. She had latched onto him as something she could make her own. Like a hungry moon-howler she was warning everyone away from her kill.

Bannor bumped Daena back and regretted it—it was like thrusting his hip against a scalebark tree. “She’s under my protection, Milady. Some events forced us to cast our lots together and Daena had nowhere else to go.”

“Is that so?” Idun said, raising an eyebrow. “So you intend to protect her by bringing this child into our war?”

He gritted his teeth. The word ‘war’ made an ache go through his bones. “If I recall, it wasn’t a war until quite recently.”

“She can take care of herself, Nonna,” Wren said. “She might look like a baby, but she’s pretty formidable.”

Daena frowned at Wren.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Idun said, massaging Wren’s shoulders. “I am curious about two things. Why Bannor feels a need to shepherd an immortal, and how she can be an immortal without any evidence of such in her aura.”

“Pardon, Milady?” Bannor said, eyes wide. He glanced at Daena as though surprised. To his nola, the girl looked no different. Nothing in her threads or emanations gave the slightest hint that she was anything other than a normal person. “How could she be an immortal?”

Wren looked around as though surprised. Apparently, she hadn’t told Idun anything. Daena’s brow furrowed. Bannor could tell she was probing to see what she might have overlooked that might have given away the truth of her identity.

“How indeed?” Idun responded, her big fingers playing idly in Wren’s hair. The savant was obviously totally relaxed with this powerful creature’s familiarity. “Even more intriguing is her age—what part of her aura she is allowing me to see—reveals a girl barely halfway into her second decade. It’s boggling to think of one so young and immortal as well.”

“Milady?” Bannor demurred. “Surely, you don’t—”

“Bannor, don’t waste my time on dissembling. I can see the truth—it is rather plain.”

“Plain?” Daena said, now frowning. “How is it plain?”

“Child, your magical veiling is perhaps as perfect a cloaking as I have ever encountered. However, I did not get this old by relying entirely on my magical senses. My vision and common sense work just fine.” The elder woman smiled. “Look at your feet, Child.”

“My feet?” The auburn-haired savant looked down with an incredulous expression on her face. “What’s wrong with my feet?”

Bannor looked at Daena’s boots. A cold shiver of realization shot through him. Caught. Betrayed by the simplest of details. He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Oh.”

The girl slapped her sides in frustration. “What!?”

He shook his head. “It’s real obvious because I’m standing right next to you. I’m bigger than you, and weigh about twelve stone. So, how come I’m not sunk in past my soles into this ice-packed dirt like you?”

“Huh—?” Daena looked down again. Her perplexed expression melted after a moment, and she slapped her forehead. “Damn.”

Idun grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

The girl sniffed. “Just because I’m heavy doesn’t make me an immortal.”

“There are other hints when put together with that detail.” Idun waved a hand in dismissal. “Actually, who you are and how you got that way are irrelevant to me as long as you do not interfere with my plans. What interests me is how you are cloaking yourself. Could you use that technique to hide someone else—say myself?”

The question caught Daena off guard. “I—don’t—know.” She pressed her lips together in thought for a moment. “Actually, yes. It’s not that hard—it doesn’t matter how powerful the aura is—in fact the stronger the emanations the better they are hidden by my method.”

“Oh, really?” Idun’s smile widened and the glow around her body brightened. “How intriguing.”

Wren looked up at her. “Nonna?”

“Our success hinges on the enemy thinking we are helpless. If they detect all of us with our auras powered up, they will suspect something. I planned to conceal us with my magic—but her technique is superior in every way. A completely seamless cloaking.”

Daena smiled and glanced at Bannor. “I thought it was pretty clever.”

Idun leaned forward, her fingers plying Wren’s shoulders gently. “Pray tell, how does it work?” Idun asked.

Daena bit her lip. “Essentially I turn the aura inside out, so all the emanations go in, and not out.”

“Inside out?” Idun frowned. “You must mean that figuratively.”

The girl shrugged. “Not really.”

Idun’s expression froze and she narrowed her eyes. “Would you demonstrate?”

The girl glanced at Bannor. He felt a tremor of unease. Idun didn’t know what Daena was. Perhaps this would keep her distracted from learning more. He nodded.

The young savant let out a breath. “Okay.” She looked up at the gold haired elder. “You want me to do you?”

“Yes, that would be excellent.”

Daena reached out, her hazel eyes became green glows again, then that light brightened, and she made a twisting motion like she was turning a knob. “There. Done.”

Idun jerked. “Wait, I haven’t lowered my—” The elder’s eyes widened. “By Yggrasil!”

Wren turned around abruptly. “Nonna? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” the elder said in a flat voice staring at Daena, hand pressed to her chest. “Bannor, what is she? She reached right through all of my defenses.”

“She’s on our side,” he said. “Are you satisfied with your demonstration?” He knew that she would be. His nola sight showed that her aura had been cloaked every bit as effectively as Daena’s. How that was possible so quickly, he couldn’t imagine.

Idun took a step back, face tight. For an instant, he saw fear in the goddess’ eyes. She was quick to mask it. “What did you do?”

Daena’s expression was pure innocence. “What you asked me. Did I do it wrong?”

The goddess pressed her lips to a line and pushed a hand through her gold hair. She raised her chin. “No, you did it perfectly.” She held up her hand, examining it with narrowed glowing eyes.

Euriel walked over from the rest of the group and put hand on Idun’s arm. “Dama, the others are prepared.” The mage paused looking from Idun to Daena and Bannor. “Is there something wrong?”

Idun rubbed her face, looking at Daena through the spaces in her fingers. “No,” she said after a moment. “Nothing that can’t wait. We should get started.” She turned to Euriel. “Tell Janai she’ll be the first.”

Being immortalized was both painful and exhilarating. When you get to be my age you don’t get many exhilarations. I now think I understand my daughter’s obsession a little better—even if it is to experience it vicariously…

—Kalindinai T’Evagduran

Queen of Malan

Chapter 37
Warrior’s Ascension

« ^ »

Janai’s scream of pain ripped through Bannor, making him jerk even though he braced for it. Lying on a large flat rock with the goddess standing at one end, the princess bit down on another yell, trying to hold it in. Daena lurched by him, hand clamping on his arm. The princess’ cry sounded so much like Sarai that it made Bannor’s guts twist, bringing back the memories of the frightening moment when his mate went through the same transformation back at Idun’s citadel. The magic had run out of control, rampaging through Sarai’s body in a grotesque explosion of growth and mass that came within hairs of killing her.

The rainbow splashed blue sky darkened and a cold wind gusted through the gully carrying the sharp tang of storm struck air. Despite Idun’s assurances, Bannor knew that even with the flux stone to ease the shock, the affect would still be harsh on Janai.

With her children and Queen Kalindinai looking on, Idun took far more care in monitoring Janai’s change than she did with Sarai.

Head bowed, eyes narrowed in concentration, hands cupped around the princess’ head, the goddess moderated the blaze of energy flooding into the Elf. Janai’s flesh rippled like waves on an ocean, and a dozen paces away Bannor felt the heat generated by the magical reaction on his face.

The tight expressions and wincing of Wren, Irodee, and the others showed their empathy. Even without Janai’s yells, the way she writhed made certain no one confused the experience with something pleasant. The metamorphosis took the length of two long breaths to undergo, but to Bannor it seemed much longer.

Skin shining like polished gold, Janai went limp. Chest heaving, twitching limbs splayed across the stone, she gave a long moan of relief. Queen Kalindinai went to her daughter and gave her a hug.

“That—” Daena swallowed and pushed a hand through her auburn hair. “That looked pretty unpleasant.”

“It was,” Bannor agreed. “Our bodies aren’t made to hold the power. It’s like trying swallow an ocean. It’s either stretch or explode.”

“Oh there’s an appealing analogy to put someone at ease!” Daena grumbled.

“Not to worry,” Kylie said, thumping Daena on the shoulder. “It is painful for the mortals because zey must cross the threshold. You are already—”

The Valkyrie stopped talking as Janai sat up on the rock with Idun’s help and put a hand to her head. “Ow.” Her voice resonated, echoing as though spoken in four slightly different pitches at once. “My head hurts.”

Wren and Euriel who stood nearby chuckled.

“It will pass quickly,” Idun assured, brushing back her blonde hair. The immortal blinked her glowing eyes rapidly. She rubbed her face. Janai wasn’t physically fit like her sister, nor did she have her mother’s magical conditioning. Holding her together must have been difficult.

Janai swung her legs off the rock and slid off. She hit the ground with a thump that Bannor felt through the soles of his boots. She certainly possessed the density and mass of an immortal now.

The Elf staggered and Daena and Kylie lunged forward to catch her. Kalindinai grabbed Janai’s shoulders in order to steady her daughter, but discovered to her dismay she was trying to stabilize a toppling colossus. The Queen let out a yell of surprise. Wren sprang forward, knocking Kalindinai down as Daena and Kylie intervened. Even with immortal strength, it required both women working in concert. Kylie caught the Elf’s arm and dug in her heels as Daena caught her from the other side. Janai’s weight hit Daena’s hands with a thud that drove the girl past her ankles in the soil.

“Ugh!” Daena gasped. “We—umph—need to work on your density control!” She shook her head. “Whoa. She’s—heavy.”

“Sorry,” Wren said to Kalindinai. “Wasn’t sure if they could catch her.”

The Queen rose and dusted the snow and dirt off her armor. “Quite all right, thank you. I had no idea the affect would be so dramatic. Are you all right, Mimi?”

“Okay,” Janai answered in shaky voice, wedging a hand against the stone behind her for support. “Thanks Daena, Kylie. I apologize, Mother, I feel as if I am thirty paces tall!”

“Closer to twenty,” Bannor said, moving to the Elf princess and putting a hand on her shoulder. He narrowed his eyes and used the power of the Garmtur to examine the new threads whirling in her aura. He focused on Idun. “These fruits must be a lot stronger than the others.”

“They are,” Idun answered. “We shall need every iota of the extra magic.”

No wonder Idun had such difficulty holding Janai together. He estimated that the fruit that nearly killed Sarai had been less than half this strong. He turned back to Janai. “Your head hurts, is there any other discomfort?”

“My stomach aches,” Janai answered. “Otherwise, I feel—” She drew a breath and let it out slow, then a second time filled her lungs to capacity then blew it out. Color flooded into her cheeks and her skin glowed. She straightened and took a more confident stance. She opened and closed her hands experimentally. “Oh my.” Her gaze went to Daena. “So is this how you big strong types feel?”

Daena grinned. “I suppose.” The young savant leaned close to Bannor. “Charged as she is, my flux stone says her energy and mass are stable. We just need to shift her density.”

Bannor noticed Idun staring at the young savant. “Janai was the most delicate transformation. The others will be easier. Who will go next?”

Laramis thumped a fist over his heart and bowed his head. “I shall, Milady. That way, I may assist my wife and the others.”

Idun pushed out her lower lip and nodded. “Fair enough. Step up.”

Daena led Janai out of the way, the Elf took ponderous, ground-shaking steps as she moved off. Kalindinai followed her daughter with a concerned expression.

Watching them, Kylie said to Bannor, “Daena learns without being taught.”

Bannor frowned. He leaned close to Valkyrie and whispered. “I’ve noticed. It’s beginning to concern me.”

The blonde woman nodded. Her voice took on a dark edge. “Hella lives.”

Being war hardened and tough, the process was less dangerous for Laramis and Irodee, but no less painful than for Janai. Getting willowy Irodee back on her feet without mishap took the efforts of half the group. Queen Kalindinai went through the transition with gritted teeth and pale features, but proved fast to adapt. That left Wren and her parents, Kylie and Daena.

Vanidaar went next. Bannor still didn’t know what the man’s savant talent did. Even looking at the way the mage was linked to Eternity revealed little about his abilities. Wren’s father underwent the transformation stoically without uttering a sound. Either he was far more heroic than imaginable, or Idun’s magic affected him differently. At the end though, he acted groggy and ponderous like the others. The man continued to be as enigmatic as when Bannor first met him.

Wren’s turn came next. Drawing a breath, she lay down on the flat stone with the golden fruit pulsing in her hand. Perspiration ran down her face, and her eyes had the glassy look of someone struggling to keep her composure. Idun patted her hand and favored her granddaughter with the only soothing words she had spared anyone. Wren forced a smile, and nodded. At Idun’s direction, she nerved herself and took a full bite of the fruit.

Bannor braced himself for Wren’s yell. Instead of a sound from the savant it felt like he was suddenly being crunched between two stones. The pain stole his breath like a punch in the gut. A short distance away Daena yelped like she’d been jabbed with something sharp. Energy rasped through him, making his head pound as if horses were stampeding through his skull. He groaned and gripped his temples, trying to block out the sensations.

“Bannor?” Kylie gripped his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He only groaned in response, unable to do anything other than grip Kylie’s arm and grit his teeth against the pain. The light pulsed in his mind, splintering into rainbows that burned the back of his eyes like traces of molten steel.

Wren let out a cry that heralded a wave of white hot agony that sent Bannor to his knees. Right as he felt ready to come apart, the sensations halted. At the same time, he heard the savant sigh in relief. Bannor let out his own grunt of relief. His ears continued to ring and white dots did lazy circles in his vision.

“What happened?” Kylie asked.

“I—” He choked. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. The memory of the pain faded quickly. Wren lay on the rock slab breathing easy, her mother and father each holding her hands.

Why would Wren’s transformation cause him such discomfort?

They went through the same process of coaxing Wren to her feet and getting her oriented. Bannor noticed Daena frowning in his direction. She felt something at the same time he did, but obviously not as severe. How did that follow?

Right then, Idun turned to the young savant. “Your turn.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “Me?” She paused and swallowed. “Ummm—okay…”

She walked over and Idun handed her the fruit. “There you go.”

The young savant looked around. “Don’t I get to lay down or anything?”

Idun raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to?”

The girl’s hazel eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

“Then sit down.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Daena did as suggested. Her gaze met Idun’s. “All I do is bite into it?”

The goddess shrugged.

Daena looked back to him. He nodded, still confident it wouldn’t hurt her.

The girl closed her eyes and took a sizeable bite, screwing up her face and tensing as though to resist a blast of discomfort. After a moment, she opened one eye and then the other. She chewed slowly and swallowed. She glanced around at the intent expressions. Frowning, she took another bite, slowly chewing and swallowing. She looked to Idun and held up the fruit. “I think this one is spoiled or something. I barely feel even a tingle.”

Idun raised her chin, emerald eyes focusing on Bannor. “I assure you, that one is as potent as the others. Proceed.”

Daena shrugged and took another bite. “It does taste good.”

Laramis and Irodee both shuddered. It was easy to tell they wouldn’t be quick to repeat the experience. Janai eyed Daena with open amazement. Queen Kalindinai toyed with one of her dark braids favoring the young woman with a speculative expression.

Daena finished the last of the fruit and licked the last of the juice off her fingers. She rose and walked toward Bannor. “That’s it?” She asked in a disappointed tone.

“Told you,” he replied. Inside, he shivered a little. All that power and it only ‘tingled’. It brought to mind Daena’s own words about her being a monster. Truly, if she ever became an enemy of human-kind she would indeed be a nightmare. He massaged his cheeks and glanced to where Wren stood by her father adjusting to the change she’d just undergone. Though the pain had faded, its possible causes and source troubled him. Wren turned her gaze toward him, with a concerned expression she silently mouthed the word “okay?”. He nodded to her. Had she been aware of what he was feeling or did she merely hear Kylie voice her concern?

Idun continued with Euriel and Kylie. The last two consumed their fruits with little more incident than Daena, though in both their cases the affect was more dramatic and obvious. Kylie’s damaged wings unfurled shining and whole from her back with a thump of buffeted air. The Valkyrie let out a cry of happiness easily audible a league away.

Euriel’s transformation was more subdued, her skin turned golden, and her eyes glowed with the same radiance as her mother’s.

Daena watched with folded arms. “I still think I got a rotten one.”

“We are prepared to meet the enemy on their terms,” Idun said. “We must hie quickly to the meeting place. The others are already heading there.” She clapped her hands together and her body dwindled in size until she was Wren’s stature. Her eyes changed and she looked in every way like any other mortal. “If Lady Daena will help us, our chances for surprise will increase dramatically if she can hide the rest of our energy the way she did mine.”

The young savant raised her chin. “Sure.”

Idun watched the young woman intently, no doubt intending to glean the secret of how she turned the magic “inside out”. Bannor noted that the girl had gotten wise to how much the goddess desired to learn how she did it.

Daena did each person fast, and never appeared to do it the same way twice. Though Idun said nothing, the goddess’ frustrated expression told Bannor that the girl had succeeded in keeping the technique a secret.

Deana finished with him and whispered in his ear. “Let her try and figure it out now!”

Bannor shook his head with a grin, reminded that Daena was still a youngster with a child’s temper and penchant for mischief.

The goddess swung her gaze over the people gathered around her, their armor and weapons gleaming in the morning light. “I trust all of you feel strong enough for a run? We must appear no different to them or our ruse will not work.”

In moments, they were all jogging toward the meeting place with Idun keeping stride right next to her grand-daughter. This time no-one lagged—not even Janai. If anything, they slowed so as not to outpace Bannor. As the only one not empowered by Idun’s magic fruit, he felt like a dwarf among giants. He knew that was an illusion. The Garmtur didn’t need the help of Idun’s magic to be dangerous. Supposedly, that was why Odin was after them in the first place. His friends had collaborated with him to slay an immortal. He was still only flesh and blood, his bones broke and his endurance was all too finite. In the upcoming battle, to keep from becoming an early casualty, he had to fight smart. That meant speed, not power. That meant in and out, striking when their opponents had their attention focused on more durable targets.

He could feel his aching body already. Even if he survived, every instinct told him he was in for the pounding of his life. It would be worth it as long as he was with Sarai again, as long as he could feel her arms around him one more time.

The trail zigzagged across the hem of the pass, weaving down through knots of drifted snow, dead trees, and boulders. The shimmering morning light made reddish reflections in the ice, making the rocks of the hillside look as though they were bleeding. Coupled with the foul smell of the twisted puss-colored rashweeds growing from the surfaces of the deadfalls at the bottom of the ridge, Bannor took it all as a bad omen of things to come.

Daena had pushed ahead of him and was striding easily next to Kylie. With her wings healed, the grim Valkyrie seemed ready for any challenge.

“You going to be okay, Bannor?” he heard Janai ask from next to him.

He glanced over, seeing the Elf lady easily matching his long strides. She seemed to almost float over the ground now. “Whoa, guess you don’t need to be carried this time around, huh?”

The princess laughed. “Guess not. Seriously, are you going to be okay? Need someone to watch your back? Seems that was the offer you made me, right before Hecate came and tried to kill both of us.” She drew a breath, now seeming to enjoy the running. “You kept your word, and I owe you. Besides, I know how much you mean to my brat sister.”

For some reason, her offer and her rationale surprised him. “I appreciate that. Aren’t you going to be taking care of Daena?”

Janai looked ahead to where the young savant was describing something to the Valkyrie. “Actually, I think she plans to take care of me. Besides, I think I am good enough with this bow.” She gestured with huge shadowspar recurve and smiled. “That I can cover two people.”

“That you are,” he agreed. “You nervous about the battle?”

Janai sniffed. “I am past that now.” She glanced at Daena again. “You know, you need not worry about me hurting the girl. I felt your eyes on me. I have no intentions of such. She is quite an amazing child—actually. Fascinating.”

“Janai, I wasn’t worried about you hurting her. I was more concerned who she might end up hurting at your behest.”

The Elf princess smiled, amber eyes gleaming. “I knew there must be something besides that body Sarai liked. You can’t be the world’s conscience, Bannor. You certainly wouldn’t want to try to be mine. After all, you have my sister to concern you.”

“That’s exactly who I’m worried about. I won’t let myself or Sarai get played into some game for your amusement.”

Janai shook her head. “One battle at a time, my brother-in-law to be, one battle at time. Worry about your own feet, before trying to call the dance steps. Never mistake—I love my sister—you simply don’t understand us yet is all.” She looked up. “Well, speak of the spirit, here she comes.”

Above them, two huge gleaming bodies sliced across the sky pursued by a half-dozen smaller white shapes. Behind them dark clouds boiled and in the distance, battle horns were blowing…

I have seen Bannor do some things that frighten me senseless, but never did I ever worry he would hurt me. I guess that’s just blinding light of love. It is an amazing sense of power and wonder knowing how close to me he feels…

—Arminwen Sarai T’Evagduran

Third Princess of Malan

Chapter 38
Balder’s Fall

« ^ »

The group bunched up as Laramis and Irodee slid to a stop. Waving and yelling, they called to the dragons gleaming in the morning sky above them. Bracketed by ridges, they stood on a trail that followed a twisting watershed gouged out of the highlands by eons of glacial advances and winter run-off. The tight confines combined with a confusion of fissures and twenty-pace high tangles of boulders would make them all but invisible to people above.

After everyone added their voices and waving, they managed to attract the dragon’s attention. The huge reptiles banked into a turn. The half dozen pegasai ridden by the mercenaries stayed in formation behind them. As Tymoril and Kegari pumped their wings and swung around, Bannor saw a glint of silver hair and gold armor on Tymoril’s back that must be Sarai. The shine of polished silver armor and the flutter of flame red hair marked King T’Evagduran and Jhord the Valkyrie riding on Kegari.

Battle horns blared again in the distance. Soot black clouds boiled on the horizon, mushrooming into the sky. A wind, hot and fetid like demon’s breath, swirled through the rocks.

Idun looked up with gritted teeth. “By Fenris,” she growled. “This is totally wrong! They’re here too soon. We’re a league from the prepared location!”

Bannor felt a pain in his temple. “Spit. I knew this would be a bad day.”

The dragons completed their turn and dropped lower, no doubt planning to make one more pass before committing to a landing that would make them vulnerable. He heard a strident whoop echo through the crevice that had to be Sarai. Another deeper, louder voice joined her.

Kalindinai let out a call to match those of her husband and daughter.

“Everyone!” Bannor warned. “The enemy is close. Pick a ride and mount up as soon as they touch down. We’ll have to run for it to get to Idun’s prepared location. Idun! Get the flux stone link with Wren working, that defense might be the only thing that buys us time!”

Bannor’s heart galloped as the sky filled with threads and he felt the air go taut with immortal energies.

Kalindinai called out in Elvish, yelling and pointing as the dragons and the mercenary contingent spiraled toward a landing. From behind, Idun put her arms around Wren in a hug. Elemental and magical threads spun and twisted around the powerful immortal and her granddaughter in a chaotic dance. At the same time, he saw new threads lash out from the savant toward the other members of the group and join with the flux stones now embedded in their bodies.

“The battle-horns and black clouds—that’s bad—right?” Daena asked in tight voice.

“Very bad,” Kylie growled. “I will be most affective in the air.” With a booming thrust of her wings, the Valkyrie launched into the sky.

The moment the Kylie left the ground, a dome of shimmering blue crackled into being, encircling the whole group. Already moving at twice the speed of galloping horse, the winged warrior couldn’t avoid hitting the glowing surface.

The impact made a rasp like lightning lashing through the air. The Valkyrie sprawled against the curved surface as if she’d run into a wall of iron. She rebounded with a yell and plummeted into the gully with a bone-shaking crash.

“By Ukko!” Laramis cursed, pulling his sword.

Irodee knelt by the winged woman who groaned and shook her head.

A deep male voice rumbled through the canyon. The timbre and resonance vibrated Bannor’s bones and made chest hurt. “There will be no reunion, traitors.” The ground shook with heavy footsteps. “Idun, I know you are among them.” The shaking increased and a willowy man stepped from behind a boulder. He wore a green cloak and white tabard with a circular yellow emblem that glowed like a miniature sun. The polished chain-mail covering his body gave off an intense light that made the eyes ache. White hair streamed across his broad shoulders and chiseled face. Brow furrowed, he surveyed the party with smoldering dark eyes. “A battle now is pointless. These children cannot protect you.”

Looking up through the haze of blue magic Bannor saw the dragons peel off and circle to land further away.

“Baldur!” Idun snapped still standing behind Wren. “I thought you chose to stay out of Odin’s insanity!”

“I changed my mind when you started killing immortals.” Balder threw back his cloak with a flourish, revealing a gold sword on his hip. He rested his hand on the pommel. “Hella did nothing to you, she merely carried out the All-father’s orders—as should all his loyal subjects.”

“Oh Hades—not this again!” Daena launched herself toward the god. “Janai—de carae oculo!”

“Wait!” Idun yelled.

Bannor started to intercede but Daena was already on Balder. His heart raced and his guts froze as he saw the young woman engage one Odin’s most powerful warriors.

“Oculo kamie!” Janai called, leaping onto a rock and notching an arrow.

Daena ignored her sword, and simply swung a fist at Balder’s face.

Without flinching, the immortal caught her knuckles in his palm with a smack that resounded through the rocks.

He snarled. “Little girl, don’t be a fool.”

“Fool? Try this!” She swung with the other fist.

Balder caught her next attack with equal ease. He clamped onto her fists with an audible creak. “Simpleton. Now what will you do—?”

Deana sighed. “Incredible power, miniscule mind, and so—overconfident!” She twisted her arms with a wrench, grabbed his wrists and yanked. Snapping her legs straight, she brought her head up under his chin with a crack.

Janai’s bow thrummed twice as the immortal was rocked by the impact of Daena’s head butt. Sensing his danger, Balder tried to shield himself, but the savant’s grip restrained him in that crucial instant. Two metal shafts hissed into his unprotected eye sockets with the sound of rending flesh.

Daena lunged away as the warrior let out a howl. He pitched over backward clutching at two war arrows jutting from his face. The dome of magic trapping the party vanished with a crackle.

“Run for it!” Daena bawled, hustling away from Balder’s writhing body. “Go! Go! Go!” She ordered, waving toward where the dragons landed.

Everyone took a heartbeat to get over the shock of what Deana and Janai had done. Laramis and Irodee jerked the still groggy Kylie to her feet, and propelled her toward the landing spot. Idun paused behind the others shaking her head.

Tymoril and Kegari had found a wider section of the valley to set down, and the barn-sized reptiles peered up the ravine toward them with shining gold eyes. The King, Sarai, and Jhord sprinted to meet them.

“Back!” Bannor yelled, waving at the three. “Back! It’s a trap!”

The groups came together as the newcomers halted to reverse direction. Behind them, the gully exploded, blasts of magic seared the atmosphere accompanied by curses of outrage.

“Shreds, Daena, could you make him any madder!?” Wren let out.

“Doubt it,” the girl called from Janai’s side, wincing from the volume of Balder’s outbursts. “No one could be that big an idiot twice! Hey!” She shook Janai’s shoulder. “Wizard shooting!” She held up her hand, and Janai jumped up and smacked it.

The Elf laughed. “Ha! An exquisitely performed mik treika! To be set up any better he would have to be posing for a picture! Pardon, I have to go hug my father!”

Janai raced forward to catch up with Kalindinai who had fallen into T’Evagduran’s arms with tears streaming down her face. The two of them were laughing, crying, and chattering in Elvish as they struggled back toward the dragons. Janai bounded over to join the reunion.

“Come here!” Sarai grabbed Bannor and pulled him to her, kissing him with fierce passion. He returned her kiss and hugged Sarai tight, hungry for her warmth. He wished he could stop time and revel in the moment. How long had he ached to hold her again? Their reunion lasted only instants before they needed to separate, filling him with a sense of urgency and frustration.

The pained expression on Sarai’s face showed she felt the same. “Lords, never leave me again!” She kissed him once more and tugged him toward Tymoril. “I see my sister is already causing trouble!”

“What do you mean? She just saved us!”

“Showoff,” Sarai snorted. They arrived at the feet of the dragons a few steps behind her parents. She broke away from him long enough to give her mother a hug. “Dama!”

Kalindinai returned the embrace for a moment, then pushed back. “Mimi?”

“I’ll explain later. Hey you!” she put her arms around Janai.

The older sister returned the clasp one-armed holding her bow out of the way. “Whoa, look at you—and those!” Janai grinned at her. “Figured out how to keep your man did you?”

Still smiling, Sarai growled. “Frell—I’ll get you for that.”

“Ha! Maybe later you will!”

Behind them, a crackling shot through the atmosphere. Bannor turned and saw Idun raising her arms to the sky and Wren backing away. The goddess swelled larger and larger, a tail sprouted from her lower back, her skin turned green, and scales etched themselves in pulsating tissue. The speed of her growth increased, and the hiss and bubble of the transfiguration grew loud. Her blonde hair darkened and formed clumps that stretched out to become fins. Wings erupted from her back and swung out to either side. In moments, the goddess had transformed into a dragon even larger than Kegari or Tymoril.

“Mother, Father!” Wren called scrambling up Idun’s side. Before the savant reached the peak of the goddess’ spiky back, a broad saddle like the ones on Tymoril and Kegari appeared. The blonde woman launched herself into the main seat, and reins shimmered into her hands. “Hurry!”

King T’Evagduran took Kalindinai and Janai up to Kegari’s saddle. Laramis and Irodee took one of the unused pegasai led down by the mercenaries. Jhord coaxed the still woozy Kylie into the air. Apparently, Idun had sent healing with Thor and Sif, because the red-haired Valkyrie’s wings appeared fully restored.

Euriel and Vanidaar joined Wren on Idun, and the goddess now dragon turned and began the run-up to get airborne.

Bannor and Sarai raced to Tymoril and clambered up her side to the high saddle. Sarai took lead, and he hopped on behind her.

“Hope you don’t mind a tagalong!” Daena said, running up to Tymoril’s side. “I need a ride.” The dragon peered at the newcomer with narrowed eyes but didn’t challenge her. Daena gazed at the huge dragon with a tight expression. Bannor knew she’d never seen creatures such as these, much less come close enough to touch. He admired her courage.

Sarai gestured her up. “Come on!”

The auburn-haired girl climbed up and plunked on behind Bannor. “Sorry!”

Idun launched into the air, followed by Kegari and the pegasai. Tymoril watched the dragons rising into the sky silhouetted against the boiling black clouds of Odin’s host. After a moment, she thrust away from the ground to join them.

“Where are we going?” Sarai asked.

“Idun’s probably—” He cut his words short, grabbing hold of Sarai as Tymoril banked hard and edged between two rock outcrops so fast they heard the stone hiss by. At the same time, Daena latched onto him with bone numbing force. “She’s heading for a battlefield she prepared.”

“Battlefield? She better have an army there!” Sarai pointed to the clouds. “Looks like Odin’s bringing everything he’s got.” She looked back, violet eyes blinking. “Who’s your god smiting friend?”

“This is Daena. Daena this is Sarai.”

“Honored.” Daena answered in a choked voice. Her gaze went to the lightning slicing through the sky. “Bannor, should we stick to Idun’s plan now?”

“It’s the only plan we have,” Bannor answered, feeling his throat constrict. Were they really counting on a scheme that had already been countered?

“My One, it best be a great plan. Daena charging in on a mik treika gamble may have worked, but only because my showoff sister is such a good shot.”

“Your sister is incredible!” Daena lauded.

“Right,” Sarai grumbled. “An incredible pain. Just the same, your show of force is the latest in a series of painful lessons Odin’s people are being taught. They’re due to get wise after this last hack.” Sarai looked back to Daena. “How did Bannor come by you, anyway?”

“Uh … long story.”

The Princess shook her head. “I bet.” Tymoril made a booming sound, dipping a wing and sliding into line behind Idun and Kegari as they snaked single file down into the valleys at the base of Brondheim peak. Sarai spoke louder to be heard over the rushing wind. “Well, it’s clear you can pull your weight. I hope you don’t regret signing on.”

“Not so far. Everyone has been nice, your sister especially. So, I’m watching out for her.”

Sarai glanced back. “Nice? Ready to adopt you I bet.” When Daena colored, Sarai shook her head. “Janai can be so—obvious. Thanks for looking after her. At times, I want to throttle her, but she’s still my sister.”

“She loves you too.”

“Oh yes, to frelling distraction.” She straightened and leaned with Tymoril as they banked around an outcrop and angled down. Her gaze flicked to the boiling clouds now perhaps two bowshots away. The winds grew more forceful, and the heat stifling. “Forget Idun’s plan, Bannor, do you have one?”

His stomach twisted. “I did until Balder jumped us. Idun gave each of us flux stones and a golden fruit. At my request, she agreed to link everyone’s flux stone to Wren, so they might act as her avatars. I hoped to use that.”

“Did it work?”

He didn’t get to answer before buffeting winds forced them to hang on as Tymoril struggled to stay stable in swirling gusts that hit like whacks from a padded mallet. Ahead of them Idun dove for a clearing at the foot of the mountain, flashing down a running stop.

Kegari, the two Valkyries, and the pegasai followed her in. Tymoril folded her wings, cut across the clearing, and banked hard. Once facing upwind, she opened her wings with snap like a dozen ship’s sails unfurling, and flared to a stop.

Bannor’s shoulders felt as if they were being crushed in blacksmith tongs. He looked back and patted Daena’s hands. “It’s okay—we’re down.”

The girl colored and let go. When she spoke, she sounded out of breath. “That was my first time flying. Whoa!”

“You did good. Better than my first time.”

Sarai shoved on his shoulder and grinned. “For one thing, she’s not green.” Her attention went to the approaching darkness and the smile on her face faded. She drew a breath. “I think this is it. I hope Idun’s got a good plan, or this will be a short fight.” She leaped off the dragon.

Bannor stared at the approaching elemental fury and despite the hot wind, he felt cold inside. “Damn.”

Daena stared into the rolling clouds. Crimson sparked in her green eyes. She squared her shoulders. In a curious voice she asked, “You turned green?”

“Uh huh.”

Underneath them the dragon vibrated; Tymoril’s unmistakable rumbling chuckle. The huge creature’s golden eyes never left Odin’s storm though. The moment of humor vaporized as figures materialized out of the clouds.

He slid off Tymoril to stand by Sarai and Daena did the same. The huge dragon snaked her head around and nudged him. He rubbed behind one of her head fins. Tymoril made a growl deep in her chest.

With Tymoril following, they joined the others gathering around Idun who had transformed back to her human disguise. The woman tossed her golden hair which flicked in the hot wind coming from magical storm rolling toward them.

With the two dragons looming over them, the whole group numbered a score. The six mercenaries, two Valkyries, four elves, two paladins, the four members of Idun’s family, Daena, and Bannor. Back on Titaan, this gathering of creatures could defeat any legion. In fact, no single god could hope to defeat the magic the assembled here.

Unfortunately, they faced not one immortal, but an army of them.

“Weren’t they supposed to chase us here?” Bannor asked.

“If they wish to challenge us instead, it is all the same,” Idun answered emerald eyes trained on the approaching enemy. “The magic siphon appears to be intact. They may know we plan a deceit, but not its nature.”

Bannor’s hand went to the hilt of the axes in its sheaths on his hip. He put the other around Sarai, pulling her close to feel her warmth. She put a hand on his shoulder.

Kylie and Jhord stepped forward as the first of the Valkyries resolved out of the clouds blowing hunting horns.

“There’s more of them than we planned to face. Can we still do it?”

Idun’s tone cut like steel. “If we cannot, there’s an eternity of pain waiting.”

Funny to say it, but I was more scared when Sarai told me she knew Daena loved me than when I confronted Odin and the High Jury. I guess that’s just the silly way I’m put together.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 39
The Allfather’s Confrontation

« ^ »

Standing in an open glen in the shadow of Brondheim peak, the group faced the storm of Odin’s host. A hot wind hissed in their faces with the acidic breath of war. Flanked by Tymoril and Kegari the dragons, and the six half-giant mercenaries mounted on pegasai, they spread out for battle. With Wren at her side, Idun stepped to the head of the group bracketed by Kylie and Jhord. Bannor, Sarai, and Daena stood by Kylie, and Janai, Laramis, and Irodee with Jhord. King T’Evagduran, Queen Kalindinai, Euriel Idundaughter and her husband Vanidaar Kergatha hung together at the rear.

Despite the fact that all of them faced what might be their last battle, Bannor sensed a calm settling over them as they watched Odin’s vanguard fly out of the rolling blackness of the storm.

Bannor counted over a score of the winged warriors. These Valkyries wore red metallic armor and their feathers looked as though made of shadows. All the other Valkyries they’d met varied a great deal in their appearance; from Kylie’s blonde hair and dusky coloring to crimson-tressed Jhord with her fair skin and freckles. These new warriors appeared like copies of one another, all with thick bodies, blunt features, olive skin, and short sheared dark hair.

Kylie’s lip curled and her white wings vibrated in agitation. She spat in the dirt and yanked the flaming sword she carried from its sheath. “The Bloodguard,” she said in a disgusted tone, ramming her sword point into the ground. “Odin brings a High Jury if he sends the ones without honor to be his heralds.”

Idun raised her chin and looked sidelong at the woman. “If indeed he brings the Jury, Kylie, you and Jhord need not be tainted with us. You completed Sif’s requested mission. Euriel and Wren are now in my care.”

“Milady, our duty is here,” Jhord said, tossing her red braids over her shoulder. She pulled her sword out and thrust it into the ground as Kylie did. “If it is a Jury, members of the Chosen must be present make sure justice is done.”

The blonde Valkyrie snarled again. “For centuries, Odin has sought to favor his hatchet whores over those of us who earned our wings. Zey are nothing but puppets zat look away from indiscretions as he dictates. There is no true justice while they moderate.”

Sarai leaned on Bannor’s shoulder fingering the sword on her hip. “So, have we met anyone who Odin hasn’t hacked off some way or another?”

“None I can think of,” Bannor said, shaking his head. “Guess he figures if he’s going to be hated, might as well make it everybody.”

“The despot never thinks himself the villain,” T’Evagduran remarked in his penetrating voice, limbering his bow and placing arrows in the soil.

“Aye, but he always knows he is justifying his actions,” Laramis added, giving the hilt of his sword a kiss, sheathing it and pulling out the bow Idun had given him. He strung it and he and his wife started arranging lines of arrows in front of them.

“That is why it falls to people like us topple such miscreants,” Kalindinai said, picking a tree branch off the ground and running sparkling fingers over it. The dead wood transformed into smooth black rod. Sliding the object into her belt, she took out a pouch and began placing pebbles, dirt, and other objects into it.

“ ‘Topple’ my arse! What they need is sword shoved up their—”

“Euriel,” Idun cut her daughter off. “Save the colorful metaphors for another time.”

The mage stared at her goddess mother for a moment, and refrained from finishing her statement. Instead, she began to gather objects the same way Kalindinai was. Silently, her husband mirrored her actions, collecting blades of grass, odd little rocks, and fragments of wood.

Bannor had never seen Euriel and Vanidaar use their magic in battle, but knew that the parents responsible for Wren would have warrior hearts. Kalindinai’s battle magic made her the equal of any legion of men. The three of them together would make an awesome team.

“Bannor, what at they waiting for?” Daena asked with a worried expression. “They’re hovering over there doing nothing. The gods haven’t come forward.”

Tightening a hand in his glove, he gazed at the assemblage of Bloodguard. Behind the winged figures, still hidden within the dark mass of the clouds he saw the tangle of threads that must be Odin’s war-party. “They’re waiting for something. We probably surprised them by walking past Balder like that.”

“A fair assessment,” Idun said turning to them. “Specifically, they are probably puzzled about how he fell without magic being used.” She nodded to Daena. “The other thing delaying them is likely the young lady’s masking of our auras. Being unable to sense us prevents them from determining what resistance to expect.” She folded her arms and looked across the battlefield. “They know we are stronger than we appear. So, they’re trying to break through Daena’s screen.”

“Let them try,” the girl said, grinning. “The harder they probe the less they’ll see. In fact, too strong a scan and they’ll be registering their own auras.”

Idun clapped her hands together and rubbed them like a miser gazing at a chest of gold coins. “Marvelous. If that is so, then we shall capitalize on their temporary confusion. Let us start by stoking the fires a bit.” She reached to the pouch on her side and called out. “Tymoril! Kegari!”

The dragons edged around the mercenaries and their mounts as the goddess pulled out four of the golden fruits. She pitched two of the globes to each of them as they opened their jaws. With rumbles like giant cats purring, the reptiles swallowed their magical repast. Eyes fluttering, the scales of their bodies shimmered in a rainbow of colors.

“Better dragons for bigger battles,” Daena breathed. “Look how they glow!”

“If Odin brings a High Jury as Kylie suspects, we will need them.” Idun took Wren’s shoulder. “It’s time to test Bannor’s plan. Touch your flux stone, and feel for its sisters.” As Wren closed her eyes and began focusing on the task, Idun’s attention shifted to Euriel. “Ri. Distribute these last three to T’Evagduran and the others as you deem appropriate. Direct the half-giants back off and remain defensive until it appears we’ve negated the enemy battle-magic.” She handed her the fruits.

Irodee who was leaning close to Laramis straightened abruptly with a gasp. “Wren?” Brushing at her long black hair, her gaze trained on the blonde savant. A grin spread across the big woman’s face. “Irodee feels your heart—beating.”

Eyes closed, Wren smiled. “I feel yours too.”

Next to Bannor, Sarai jumped as though pinched. “Hey!” She glared at Wren, and shook an admonishing finger in her direction.

“Sorry.” The savant laughed. “I’m still getting used to how this works.”

Sarai’s brow furrowed.

Bannor leaned close to Daena. “While she’s doing that, hide the auras of everyone else. If we have to retreat, we don’t want them tracking us with magic.”

Idun, who was studying Wren, nodded to Bannor. “Yes, do that. Send them a message to mind their own business.”

A red light glinted in the young savant’s eyes. “I’ll send them a message all right.” She looked to Janai. “Will you come explain to your father?”

Nodding, the princess walked her over to speak with the King.

Gaze following Daena, Sarai folded her arms and leaned back against Bannor. She sighed, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered in his ear. “My One, when and how did that girl manage to fall in love with you?”

Stomach already tight with before-battle nervousness, her question knocked the wind out of Bannor. A chill went through him as he met Sarai’s serious gaze. Where did that come from? How did she know? Did she read his mind? Thoughts speeding, he tripped over himself simply trying to speak. “W-w-what?”

She shook her head, casting a glance to where Daena conversed with the King. “She is well put together, and quite a spirited scrapper.” She nuzzled his ear, and rubbed his chest with her palm. “I admit she is closer to your age…”

His knees went wobbly. To sound so calm, Sarai must be really angry. There couldn’t be a worse time for this to come out. He scrambled for something coherent to say. Odin would come to kill them any moment! “Sarai—I—I—”

The princess sighed. “My One, I marvel at how you get yourself into these predicaments. That one has enough red in her hair to have a real temper—” She paused, apparently sensing his tension. “Darling, I know you didn’t intend to draw her to you.” Eyes narrowing, her voice dropped. “If I thought you seduced her…” His armor creaked as her fingers tightened in it. “I don’t though. I trust you.”

Bannor swallowed and relaxed against her. His pounding heart slowed. “Lords, I thought you were going to kill me before Odin even got here.”

“My One, it would take a great deal to make me doubt you.” Sighing, she gave him a squeeze. “Damn, I hate the waiting before a battle.”

Daena came back and stopped by Bannor. “It’s done.” She shook her head and put hands on hips. “Idun was easy compared to those dragons—it gave me a headache. It’s not their size either—their power is weird.”

“Elemental,” Bannor said. “Stone, fire, and air all working together and in opposition to each other.”

The girl shrugged. “Whatever. It’s a nasty snarl to turn inside out.”

“Well done,” Idun lauded. “I wondered if you could do it. With all of us hidden, it should—” Lightning crackled and thunder boomed across the field. The clouds redoubled their churning, and the wind increased to a howl. Idun nodded. “—made it clear there’s no point in wasting more time.”

Bannor frowned as the color of the sky faded. Elemental and magical threads erupted across the horizon to the south. He winced, forced to catch his balance from the volume of information that slammed into his mind, threads—millions of them. He blinked and shut out most of his second sight. He couldn’t see to walk, much less fight with all of that scintillating in his vision. He swallowed. “Uh, Idun, that siphon shield of yours better work…”

“Damn,” Wren muttered. “I have to turn my Nola down to keep the force images from blinding me!”

“Take no action until they actually attack,” Idun warned. “Waste no energy, until they are cut off. You will need it all.”

The Valkyries in red armor soared across the battlefield toward them. Everyone raised their weapons bracing for the clash, but the winged warriors didn’t move to engage. Breaking into squads of four, they took up six positions twenty paces off the ground and a hundred away; distant enough to not pose an immediate threat, but within range to intercept anyone trying to escape.

As the Bloodguard finished their maneuver, the clouds erupted to disgorge Odin’s warrior host. Bannor’s heart froze as the opposition flashed across the sky. While Idun made a point of hiding their magic, the All-father’s war-party put theirs on display. Bolts of lightning laced the heavens, and bone-rattling thunder made the hard packed soil crack underfoot. The brilliant flashes made it hard to identify how many supporters Odin brought, but he guessed more than ten.

Mounted on a monstrous eight-legged horse that churned the air with hooves of flame, one-eyed Odin charged toward them, three-pointed spear thrust overhead, gray hair and beard flying. Behind him, armor and weapons blazing with stellar brilliance, his supporters fanned out behind him riding silver-skinned horses that left rainbows shimmering in their wake.

They arced down to the far end of the field where their hooves touched down with a reverberation that shook the clearing.

As they neared, Sarai took hold of his wrist. Shoulders touching, Laramis and Irodee along with Janai and King T’Evagduran poised with their bows ready. A bluish glow of magic flickered around Kalindinai, Euriel, and Vanidaar.

Behind Idun, Daena stared at the on-rushing crowd with her arms folded and cold expression on her face. “There’s twelve of them,” she said in flat voice. “Must be the Jury like Kylie said.”

Kylie growled, and she and Jhord leaned forward, wings cocked back and weapons in front of them.

Teeth gritted and eyes narrow, Wren tensed at Idun’s side, body vibrating.

Without apparent concern, Idun greeted Odin’s charge with shoulders back and chin up. She toyed with her hair, and brushed at her armor as though the approach of this assemblage of juggernauts was nothing but a harmless parade.

Odin stormed toward the group looking as if he would ride right over them.

“Don’t flinch,” Idun’s voice whispered in his ear, even over the deafening crash of the Aesir’s charge. He guessed Idun spoke to them all because Sarai jerked at the same time he heard the goddess’ voice. Resolve hardened the expressions of the others.

From a full gallop, the massive war-god boomed to a stop only a pace from the goddess. Rocks and dirt bounced around her feet and a thick cloud of dust drifted over everyone. The eight-legged beast tossed its head and snorted, its breath making Idun’s hair flutter. Behind them, Tymoril and Kegari growled.

Winged helmet pulled low on his head, and a jeweled patch over one eye, the craggy-faced All-father glared at them, his single blue eye flashing. He slammed his giant war spear Grungir point down into the turf at Idun’s feet.

On Odin’s right, one-handed Tyr reined in, his russet mane of hair and braided mustaches threaded with bones. On the left, Loki had halted his horse, and stared at them with folded arms. A goddess in gold robes that Bannor guessed was Odin’s wife Frigga held up directly behind the leader. A bald god with a smooth blocky face halted at her side. Decorated in an entire arsenal of weaponry, he wore nothing more than a pair of dark breeches to cover his rippling physique.

Bannor guessed that he must be Thor’s brother Vidar, the warrior Euriel warned them about. His role appeared to be protecting Frigga. Seven more deities made up the Aesir war party, five more men, and two women. Bannor didn’t know their names, or anything about them except they all looked capable—powerful—each one able to rip apart a continent if they desired.

“Idun,” Odin spoke her name in a voice that sounded like a roll of thunder. He raised his chin and arcs of lightning danced around him. “You stand your ground like one confident of winning.”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “I stand my ground like someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.” She sniffed. “That and because we will win.”

“Insanity!” Tyr blared, raising a war axe. “Milord let me—”

“Silence!” Odin halted Tyr’s tirade with a raised fist. Blue fire crackled around his fist as he stared at their group. “Idun, your perfidy is complete…” As he spoke, Loki rose in the saddle with a smirk. “…By collaborating in the slaying of your immortal kin, Hella, you have sealed your fate and that of all who willingly served you. It is our honor-bound duty to cleanse the Aesir of your murderous presence—”

“What—?” Daena burst out in a voice so loud that it stopped even Odin. “Not this nonsense again! Know wherefore you speak, lord all father. She can’t have killed Hella—because Hella isn’t dead!”

Idun looked back at Daena with a raised eyebrow, then glanced at Odin.

He drew himself up, a vein pulsing in his temple. “What manner of foolishness is this? Hella is dead, Loki has seen it for himself.”

Daena put hands on hips. “Oh, right, you believe him!?” A fist seized Bannor’s chest as Deana stomped forward, shoving past Jhord to stand within reach of Odin. “You only took his word because it suited you. Well, I have had enough!” Flames erupted in her eyes. “You posturing blackguards won’t disguise your agendas by pretending some righteous defense of my memory!” She swung her arms up as if tossing off a garment. Daena’s form shredded away like a snake’s old skin as another larger shape split it apart—the imposing figure of Hella. Her hair turned to flames, and shadows wrapped around her body. Sparks flashed from fingers that now ended in talons.

Chest heaving, she brandished a fist at Odin and swung around to glare at Loki. Her voice took on an echoing quality that resounded across the field, snapping like a rimy gale. “Do I look dead to you cretins?! Do I?! I started my life over to escape the petty squabbling of you blustering self-righteous thugs and your insipid bellicose arrogance. If you have a grievance against Idun that must be resolved by bloodshed—so be it. All my strength is with her. So, if I am dead this day. Odin will be my killer—not Idun. The High Jury should withdraw support of this self-serving injustice before irrevocable harm is done.” She pointed a glowing finger at the gods behind Odin. “You are warned.”

She spun on her heel and strode back toward the group.

Eyes wide, Idun stared at the other goddess. “…Hella?”

The flaming apparition didn’t respond, she moved stiffly past Idun and Jhord. With each step she shrank, a green light flickering around her body. By the time she stood by Bannor and Sarai, she had returned to her identity as Daena, every bit of cloth and armor back in its place. Bannor stared at the young woman. He hoped that Idun wouldn’t learn of the duality she shared with Hella. Now, it appeared Hella was more alive in her than they guessed! Sarai tightened her grip on his arm. Her gaze shifting from him to the girl. Daena turned and faced the enemy, eyes glinting in anger.

Even Odin was struck speechless for a moment. The gods in his contingent murmured and stirred. The All-father glowered at Loki who shrank back with a dismayed expression.

Odin’s jaw set. Straightening in his saddle, he squared his shoulders. “We are neither amused nor fooled by this trick. The penalty for slaying an immortal is execution of the perpetrator and all associated. Sentence to be carried out immediately. Our word is law. We have spoken.” He nodded to Tyr.

The one handed god stiffened, a moment of doubt registered in his expression as he met Odin’s gaze. A distant rumble grew stronger as the two gods eyed one another. After a moment, Tyr sagged in resignation.

“Kill them,” he growled, gesturing with his axe. “Kill them all.”

Few things have ever affected me so profoundly as what I saw in the battlefield beneath Brondheim peak. In all my centuries I cannot remember a bigger shock—except maybe finding out my unmarried daughter had made me a grandfather…

—Jhaann T’Evagduran

King of Malan

Chapter 40
High Jury’s Fall: The Savage Accident

« ^ »

Coordination is a marvelous thing. In fact, when the right people work in concert, incredible events can occur. Such a time happened when Daena ran the gamble on Balder. Being prepared allowed Janai to capitalize on an instant when the god was distracted and his defenses were weak.

Bannor’s heart seized as he stared at the gleaming host of gods astride their silver horses. Already, they were lowering their weapons as Odin pronounced his sentence on Idun and her followers. In the heartbeats as the All-father spoke, Bannor wished desperately that he had remembered to join with Idun’s flux stone. Unjoined, he couldn’t link with Wren and act in unison with the others. Sarai had distracted him and he’d forgotten his most critical preparation.

His insides knotted as he tried to guess what the others might do. On Wren’s signal, everyone would strike against designated targets. At that vital cusp, if he moved wrong, or failed to move, he’d fall into the path of a weapon, arrow, or magical blast charged to stop the onslaught of a god.

His contribution could be all that stood between his allies and death. If every iota of the party’s potential didn’t get channeled effectively, they might not live through the first eye-blink of this battle.

Bannor selected a course of action as Tyr raised his axe. Earlier they identified Vidar as a key source of resistance. One-handed Tyr was serving as their tactical leader. He knew it would take him too long to cut either god’s threads of magic. There was no point in doing it anyway—Idun’s siphon magic would do that. He needed stopping force. Tyr would be charging while Vidar hung back to defend Frigga.

The best weapon against one god was another.

“Kill—them—all!” Tyr bellowed.

Bannor thrust his mind deep into the power of the Garmtur, snaring the massed threads of both Tyr and Vidar. He might not be able to break those connections, but he sure could tangle them up.

Tyr and the other gods plunged forward. Bannor struck with the Garmtur. A twist and thrust, and then another and he had thrown a loop of Vidar’s magic around Tyr, and hooked Tyr’s elemental energies around Vidar. Fractions of an eye-blink later his allies attacked as well.

Wren back-flipped through the air so she landed behind Daena. She grabbed the other savant’s shoulders and screamed, “Go!”

Idun reached toward the sky and brought her fist down like a hammer.

Like one entity, Euriel, Vanidaar, and Kalindinai each sent a bolt of lightning straight into Frigga.

Laramis, Janai, King T’Evagduran, and Irodee launched arrows toward Vidar. Sarai thrust both hands toward the ground and made a ripping motion upward, causing the rock in front of the oncoming gods to explode. Tymoril and Kegari sent bursts of fire aimed to kill the god’s silver hided mounts.

The rest happened in the blink of an eye. Only Bannor’s savant senses allowed him to catch the events that happened fractions of a heartbeat later.

Idun’s siphon magicks slammed down, slashing through the thickest of the elemental lines empowering the members of onrushing High Jury. The booming effect knocked Odin’s warriors reeling. The red armored Bloodguard Valkyries hovering around the battlefield plummeted from the sky with cries of surprise.

Stunned by Idun’s attack, Tyr hit the end of the threads belonging to Vidar. Vidar, who was likewise tangled in Tyr’s magic jerked as their intertwined threads hit the end of their slack. Naturally, not knowing what was acting on them, both gods tried to pull away, thus cinching Bannor’s energy nooses even tighter.

Wren and Daena combined their powers. Sending out a thrust like the one that propelled Loki into the mountain with such dramatic force. Unfortunately, they didn’t attack Vidar as Bannor expected.

They hit Tyr.

Wren used her control of forces to direct the god’s sudden eruption of velocity, vectoring him directly back through the middle of the Jury.

Sarai’s erupting rock only worsened the situation for the gods disoriented by Idun’s attack. Struggling with Tyr’s threads and his own, Vidar could not protect Frigga. Only immortal speed and reflexes kept arrows from finding home in his eyes and other vital areas. Even without Vidar’s help, the goddess easily blocked the lightning sent at her by the party’s mages.

All of this activity only served to divert attention away from the real danger.

As Wren and Daena intended, Tyr became the real weapon. Hurled backward at dozens of times the speed of a hurricane wind, he became a meteor capable of shattering everything in his path. While they intended him to be a weapon, they didn’t know the nature of Bannor’s attack. Tyr and Vidar were already struggling with the tangle of elemental cords when the two savants struck.

As Daena’s nola hurled Tyr, the abrupt relaxing of the tension caused his threads to lash around like incandescent whips, each one charged enough to slash through steel the way fisherman’s line cut water. The two savants deliberately aimed him for the heart of Odin’s jury, and like a scythe his power cut into all the unfortunates along his path. Frigga didn’t even have a chance to move. She simply seemed to fold in half. Fractions of an eyeblink later, the two god’s threads went taut again. Already cinched down, the nooses that Bannor placed on them pinched down with incalculable force.

Tyr and Vidar exploded like a pair of melons smashed with a mattock. The entirety of their massed energies let go in a single decimating blast.

A wave of fire erupted outward.

“Frell!” Sarai gasped, throwing her arms around Bannor and knocking him down. He felt her body stiffen and grow crushingly heavy as the shockwave blasted over them. Her skin seemed to become metal and it felt like ice where it touched.

Standing behind Daena, Wren let out a yell. Her links to the other members of the group flared bright and the glow of her Nola became a hard blue radiance shimmering on everyone’s skin. Under other circumstances, even enhanced by Idun’s fruit, Wren would have died trying to deflect that titanic outpour. This time she could share the load with ten other people. As she cried out, the others went rigid as her nola diffused the destructive emanations across all their bodies.

The wave-front sent Kegari and Tymoril tumbling backward. Maac and the mercenaries who had already backed off to the far edge of the field were also carried off.

Sarai felt like a mountain pressing down on Bannor as a white-hot hurricane of pelting debris roared over them. More than once he heard chunks of rock and metal clack off Sarai’s back. Flames and smoke mushroomed into the sky, filling the air with the smell of burnt hair and flesh.

The roar faded into the distance, leaving behind the sound of crackling fires and the plunking of debris raining back to the surface. Odin’s High Jury lay like trees flattened by an avalanche, smashed into the turf as though driven into it by a gigantic mallet. Odin and Loki stood alone, their bodies surrounded by globes of shadow that sparked and shimmered. The spheres guttered out as the wind died.

Idun’s team gasped, the flickering remnants of Wren’s Nola sparking around them. Driven into the hillside at the far end of the field Tymoril and Kegari rolled back their feet shaking their heads. With the dragon’s thick armor and resistance to heat, the blast had probably been more surprising than hurtful. Maac and the other mercenaries did not appear to have faired as well, but Bannor saw movement among them.

“Are you injured, my One?” Sarai asked, breathing heavily as she pushed herself off him. Her skin shimmered from a metallic appearance back to its normal color.

He sat up and hugged her, feeling her warmth against him. “I’m okay.” Together they rose to survey the damage, along with the others.

Sarai touched her sister Janai on the arm. Dusting herself off, the older princess nodded to her. She then looked toward the back of the group. “Mother? Father?”

Picking themselves up, Kalindinai and King T’Evagduran looked toward her. The Queen raised a finger of acknowledgement.

“Yes!” Laramis shook his fist. “The hammer of justice strikes true!”

Clutching his war-spear, the Allfather’s electric eyes were wide as he regarded the devastation. Nothing remained of Tyr and Vidar except scattered bits of gore. His wife Frigga lay crumpled on the ground like a mangled doll. Groaning Bloodguard’s occupied points all across the field, stunned by the fall and pummeled by the explosive shock.

Idun, who had been unflappable throughout everything, stood with palms pressed to her cheeks in dismay. Their opening sally had only been intended to drive the gods back.

Kylie and Jhord let the points of their swords fall. Their opponents would not be finishing their charge. Wren and Daena goggled with slack jaws.

“Damn…” Daena said looking over her shoulder at Wren. “Did we cuff him that hard?”

Wren blew out her cheeks. “Wasn’t me. You swatted him. I just made sure he went the right way. They probably felt that one back in Valhalla…” She looked back to her mother.

“Dear,” Euriel said, as she and Vanidaar stood. “They probably felt that hit back on Titaan. Ouch. What a mess.”

Odin jerked, apparently still stunned by the circumstances. He looked again at his decimated ranks as though unable to believe his one good eye. Beside him, Loki made a whimpering sound.

“Enough!” Odin growled. He leveled his spear at them. “Idun, what foul treachery is this?”

His voice snapped the goddess into focus, and she straightened. “Treachery? You are in a poor position to anger me, now. Surrender, you are cut off, your Bloodguard are down, and all save Loki are incapacitated. Both of you used most of your energy shielding yourselves from the blast. My people are fresh. Even if you had all your strength, we could defeat you.”

“I do not surrender,” Odin snarled. Loki’s eyes widened and he started to edge away. The All-father speared the Trickster around the throat with his free hand. Choking and coughing, he pulled the other god close. “Neither does he.”

Idun raised an eyebrow and looked at the two Valkyrie who stood on either side of her. They both shrugged.

Bannor drew a breath. He was still stunned by the devastation. He nearly killed everyone including himself and Sarai.

“Odin, consider your wife and son. Bragi is what this is all about right?” She pointed to the man who had been behind Frigga. Slashes and burns marred his face. The armor that gleamed when the gods arrived moments ago was now black with soot. “You know, Bragi, the big-talking child-molesting poet, my humbled and cowardly former husband. You do remember him don’t you?”

“Silence, Woman, test me not with your mockery.” Odin pushed Loki away. He dropped off his mount and thrust three pointed Grungir into the blistered soil. Going to Frigga’s battered form, he knelt at her head and smoothed the burned hair away from her face.

“Milord,” Frigga whispered, lifting a shuddering hand toward him. Odin took her fingers between his. “You shouldn’t—”

The All-father covered her mouth with his hand. “Hush.”

Daena stared at Loki who hadn’t moved. The Trickster Lord raised his chin, face set and arms folded. Laramis kept his bow trained on the two gods, but leaned back to look at Bannor. “Your plan worked well. If Wren had not implemented as you suggested, none of us would be here now.”

“I guess,” Bannor answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wish I’d followed my own damn advice. We might have avoided this mess.”

Laramis gave him a curious look. “Pardon?”

“My One, what’s wrong?” Sarai asked. “Did you do something?”

“Of course he did,” Wren said. “I felt him yank hard on his power. I didn’t see what happened though.”

“Neither did I,” Daena said. “Too quick on the string for me.”

All eyes focused on him.

“I too noted it,” Vanidaar added. “He touched the life forces of Tyr and Vidar. However, it took place too quickly for me to follow.”

Idun glanced back at Odin, who’d raised his head. She brushed back her blonde hair and gazed at Bannor, hands on hips. “Bannor—did you cause that?”

“Well—not intentionally.”

Wren gasped. “Bannor, gods just don’t accidentally explode!”

“Lords,” Euriel shook her head in dismay.

“I wasn’t trying to kill them,” Bannor growled. “You were supposed to hit Vidar. I had them tangled in each other’s threads… When Tyr hit the snarl…”

Idun squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. Taking a breath, she swung around to face Odin. “Decide—surrender or not. The High Jury won’t be recovering to help you.”

Odin rose and squared himself. He stepped to his spear and uprooted it. “You give me no choice then.”

Idun’s expression hardened. “No, I don’t.”

Kylie and Jhord tensed, prepared to receive a charge should the All-father decide to make a desperate move.

Odin nodded, his one blue eye looked glazed, and he wore set expression on his craggy face. He studied the small assemblage in front of him. His head dropped, shoulders slumping.

Perhaps it was a subtle tensing of the god’s body, or simple instinct that caused Bannor to move, but it kept him from being split in half. Odin vanished, and a heartbeat later was coming down on him from above, three tined war-spear aimed at Bannor’s head.

Bannor shoved Sarai out of the way, dodging the spear as it slammed into the ground where he’d stood. He yanked his hand-axes off his belt as Odin spun his weapon overhead. Black light poured around the god, shoving everyone away except Bannor.

Odin had trapped them both inside a bubble of magic. Light filtered in, but it looked as it might through heavy waxed parchment. The smell of thunderstruck air and smoke became heavy. Lingering hints of sulfur and strong drink that must have been in Odin’s clothes spun through the immediately oppressive atmosphere.

Bannor saw the silhouettes of his allies outside begin to strike at the magic that had surrounded him and the Allfather. The sphere shuddered with the force of impacts and energies being rained against it.

Odin glanced at their efforts seeming unconcerned. “I might have lost the war,” he growled, keeping his spear between them as Bannor rose. “This battle I shall win. I have strength enough to keep them out while I do you in.”

Bannor didn’t waste wind trying to reason with this creature. Odin had long since passed that point. Even without his immortal powers he was still half-again Bannor’s size, with extraordinary strength and speed.

He spun his axes staring hard into Odin’s icy blue eye, letting his awareness tell him where the razor tips of the spear were aimed.

Bannor swung both axes before he even registered the weapon coming at him. Hooking aside the powerful thrust, he spun inside the attack, leaping and bringing his elbow hard across the other warrior’s ear. Odin staggered a few steps and whirled with a snarl.

The All-father whipped the spear at Bannor’s feet, forcing him to leap over the shaft. A swinging backhand made Bannor duck. The movement only set him up for the knee that crashed into his sternum with pile driving force.

Stars flashed in Bannor’s vision, and all the air left his chest in a stunning rush of pain that sent him to his knees.

“Dance with me, Boy? Not likely,” Odin rumbled. “I was stomping better than you fifty millennia ago.” Before Bannor could dodge, an open-handed slap hit him in the side of his head with a ringing impact.

The world went brown for a moment, and he tasted the grit of the dirt in his face. Heart humming in his chest, he started to push himself up when fingers snared his hair and yanked his head back.

Without hesitation, he thrust a knee toward his opponent. Odin simply raised his leg, interposing a metal shin guard. The clash of metal on metal made a bone rattling clang.

Odin tightened his grip on Bannor’s hair twisting his neck. The god stared in his face, and lowered his voice to a gravelly rasp. “You are a weed, Ka’Amok. Wherever one of your kind appear, more of you start springing up. This time you chose my garden. Well, Weed, I have solution for you.” With a grunt, Odin hurled him against the side of the black energy globe surrounding them.

A charge rasped through Bannor in an agonizing burst that made him howl as he jerked away and collapsed to the ground.

The Garmtur was the only way he could beat this creature. He blinked and tried to focus on the god, looking for the threads that he could haul against that might slow Odin down.

Bannor reached out and found—nothing.

“Power not working?” Odin asked, shaking his head and clicking his teeth together. “Idun cut off the power, remember? That can’t help you.”

Bannor swallowed, gripping his axes tighter. His body jumped and jerked, spasms jangling through his arms and legs. Odin was right, he couldn’t feel his nola at all.

“Well, Weed, time to go. This should stir them up. Especially considering how intertwined your roots are with the rest of the weeds. I figure when you die it should lay out the whole annoying lot.” He swung the spear up.

Bannor tried to roll aside but Odin brought a boot down in the middle of his chest, smashing him flat. The spear came down. In desperation, Bannor swung his axes in between the tines of the spear, halting it finger-widths from his throat.

Pushing with all his strength, he groaned and struggled as Odin forced the point inexorably downward…

I will never hear Odin’s name again without feeling a pain in my back and a curse on my lips. If there is any creature alive that I truly hate, it would be him.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 41
Weeds

« ^ »

Lying in the dirt, ears ringing and sweat streaming down his face, his hand-axes tangled in the pace-long tines of Odin’s spear, Bannor struggled to keep from getting impaled through the throat. With the god’s huge boot planted in the middle of his chest, body still aching from the shock of touching Odin’s magic, he strained with every iota of his strength to halt the weapon’s progression. In a last desperate effort to stay alive, he had swung his axes between the tines of the All-father’s trident shaped weapon Grungir, hooking the weapon’s crosspiece to block the attack. Edges glinting with lethal sharpness, the spear-tip shuddered only hairs away as Odin pushed with greater and greater force.

Odin’s black sphere continued to spark and quaver around them, filling the hemispherical confines with a heavy scent of lightning struck air. The magic jumped and shuddered as Bannor’s allies outside pounded on the barrier, trying to bring it down. Through the shimmering dark force, they looked like figures seen through wet parchment that wavered and shifted in a thousand shades of gray.

Often were the times he’d felt alone, but never with his friends and loved ones so close. If he didn’t find something to turn the tide, he would die within arm’s reach of everyone he cared for.

Sweat stung his eyes and his heart pounded so hard his ribs felt ready to explode. Gritting his teeth and exerting his most supreme effort only slowed the spear-point’s glacier like progress toward his life-blood. With little effort, the All-father might have yanked the weapon back and plunged it in for a finish. Bannor saw the grimace on the creature’s craggy face and the malice in his eye. Odin wanted him to struggle. The god wanted him to die knowing his best efforts were futile.

Bannor refused to give up in his last instants of life. He kicked out, trying to find leverage to get Odin off him. Flailing his legs only made the All-father shift more of his fifty stone of weight onto Bannor. To end this fight, all Odin needed to do was step down with all his weight and crush Bannor’s ribs.

Bannor yelled in vanquished pain and frustration. His thoughts flashed on Sarai, of the gauntlet they ran to get this far; so close to freedom—to being together. He sensed her hammering at Odin’s barrier with frenzied strength—striving against Odin even as he did. Sarai always gave him strength. Her love inspired his tenacity to go on when another man might have given up. He reached out to her with his heart and mind. More than ever, he needed the strength her love could impart.

Arms shuddering, eyes clenched tight, he summoned his will for a final surge of effort that would to decide this deadlock. The razor sharp tip pressed into his flesh with a stab of pain.

“Die, Weed,” Odin gritted in his echoing voice. His blue eye flashed and narrowed. “Expire slow. I want to see you wiggling on the end of my spear.”

Stars sparkled behind Bannor’s eyelids as he summed his courage and love into a knot of energy in his chest. In the back of his mind, he reached out to Sarai to give her one last kiss—to bless the child in her womb he would never see. Even if he tore free of this monster, the effort would leave him defenseless to continue fighting. At least, that way he could die on his feet instead of crunched under the heel of this wight. This creature would get no satisfaction from him.

Heart thundering in his temples, he drew a breath in preparation. The blade went deeper, parting flesh—blood spilled down his skin. Sarai felt closer than ever. He would be with her if he had to expend his life in getting there. Bannor imagined himself reaching toward her, shifting his grip to push directly against the instrument slowly impaling him.

My One!

Her voice reached across the gulf to him. In that instant, he felt Sarai with him. The bond they shared came blazing alive. The touch of his mate felt hot as a star, and his body exploded with her energy.

Screaming a war cry, he shoved Odin’s spear up and away, heaving so hard every muscle seemed to rip apart. A crunching and snapping sound came from his arms as he flung Odin back so that he careened into the dark force imprisoning them. Energy snarled and bit at the god’s body, making the huge warrior jump forward cursing and shaking himself like an angered broadpaw.

Bannor rolled to his feet. He staggered off balance, and caught himself before reeling into the shocking touch of Odin’s dark magic. It took all his concentration simply to stay upright. Blood leaked down the front of his armor. His arms hung like useless rags at his sides. The surge of strength had saved him, but had shattered his all-too-mortal bones.

“You are one persistent weed,” Odin rasped.

“I’m no weed, dammit!” Bannor growled. “Bastard, we did nothing to you. You attacked us. Everyone that’s died is your doing—no one else. Killing me changes nothing. They all know it now.”

“Making you dead will make me feel better.” Odin leveled his spear at Bannor.

He tensed. His body felt icy, his arms useless and numb. Some of Sarai’s strength still tingled in his chest. Somehow, she had broken through the barrier and shared part of her energy with him.

With a grunt, Odin lashed toward him with his spear. Bannor timed his leap, pushing off with the last remaining energy in his body and focusing it all into his heel. The spear went under him. His foot impacted the bridge of Odin’s nose with a thud that sounded like a stone walloping a log.

The kick snapped the huge warrior’s head back, rocking him backward with a grunt. Bannor landed flatfooted as Odin reeled into the black wall where the rasping magic lashed him for a second time. The giant warrior stumbled forward, his armor smoking and hissing from the power discharged. Blood from the All-father’s shattered nose splashed down his neck and chest. He wiped at his face, saw the blood on his hand, and let out a bestial yell.

Bannor shook his head. This juggernaut wouldn’t stop. His best attack, even enhanced by magic, only made the creature angrier. That last surge drained him, he had nothing left. He might as well be hitting a brick wall for all the affect it demonstrated. He drew a shuddering breath. He didn’t want to die, but his last option failed.

Teeth gritted and growling, Odin rocked side-to-side, hands clenching and loosening on his spear. Bannor wouldn’t catch him again with the same attack.

Both of them careened sideways, rocked by a tremendous crash that bowed in the side of Odin’s magic sphere.

The explosive strike snapped Odin out of his berserker rage. “What in blazes?”

Another blow, even harder than the first, smashed against the side of the field. The black radiance flickered, its surfaces shimmering in a rainbow of colors. The field went transparent in one spot, revealing a huge auburn-haired woman, eyes aglow like green stars. She drew back her fist as the black magic went opaque again.

The third crash knocked Bannor off his feet in a jarring pain. Odin stood his ground. “What is that creature? All the magic is still cut off!”

Bannor shuddered and swallowed. “My guess is she’s angry.”

The fourth hit sent him sliding backward. The black force burst apart like shattering glass, the fragments dissipating like puffs of smoke. Through the middle of it charged Daena.

Right as the young savant plunged toward Odin, the All-father met her, bringing his spear into her midriff.

Daena howled as the tines pierced through her body. A glow flashed around Odin and lightning licked along the weapon. The girl screamed and thrashed as a charge erupted into her body. With a yell, her fist lashed across the All-father’s head with a crash. The attack knocked him loose from the spear, sending him tumbling backward a dozen paces.

Body smoking and charred, Daena gasped and fell to her knees gripping the spear impaling her. Green eyes growing dim, her gaze found Bannor.

He felt himself go icy as he saw a froth of blood bubble from her lips.

“Bannor—” she choked. “Are you—o-o-okay?” She collapsed and went still.

From all around him Bannor saw his friends rushing in—everyone except Sarai. His beloved knelt behind where Daena had been standing, head bowed and shoulders slumped. Her face, pale and strained, rose and her violet eyes devoid of their normal glow found him. A smile flickered across her lips.

He forced himself to his feet and struggled toward her. Something was wrong. He made it to her just as she listed to one side. With a grimace of pain, he caught her icy body in his shattered arms.

“My One,” she groaned, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “We—did—it.” She went limp in his grasp, just as still and lifeless as Daena.

Thor, we fought, but ultimately he proved he had all the honor his father lacked. While I cannot say I like him much, he at least proved he is worthy of respect, and that he understands the meaning of justice.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 42
Thunderlord’s Intersession

« ^ »

Hugging Sarai’s icy body with shattered and agonized arms, Bannor felt the tears roll down his face. Damn Odin, damn Hecate, damn all gods and their selfish arrogance. Ears ringing, and muscles knotted in torment, he sensed activity around him, but couldn’t bring himself to look away from his love lying in his arms.

Her angular face looked pale, skin glistening with perspiration from the efforts she exerted while he fought his duel with Odin. Strands of her silvery hair fell in shiny tangles across her forehead and cheek. Since her transformation at Idun’s citadel, her heart beat with such strength that Bannor could feel it simply by holding her close. Pressed against Sarai, nothing stirred within her. Outside of Odin’s dark barrier, the sensing powers of his Nola again functioned. Looking at her through the Garmtur, it looked as if her threads had been clipped away as though all the magic and life had been sucked from her body.

He pressed his face close to hers. Though she collapsed only instants ago her skin felt chilled. No air escaped her lips. He felt himself trembling. He would rather have died in his fight with Odin than face this.

Behind him, he heard a feminine voice boom across the field. “Damn you, Odin, you had no call for that. That was low.”

A grunt followed the heavy clink of armor. A masculine voice, Odin’s dark rasp, rumbled back. “Speak to me not of what is low, Woman. What shall you do now? Slay me? I think not.” Apparently, Daena’s last attack had done no more than disrupt the god’s plans.

“Killing you now is indeed tempting,” Idun growled.

Bannor flinched instinctively as a hissing sound, followed by another, sliced across the clearing. Odin gasped, then let out a yell. Two more hisses, and the All-father snarled in pain again.

Bannor looked up to see Janai poised with her bow, standing by Daena’s burned form. Rage had twisted the face of the once plump and mischievous princess into a feral mask. Her body quivered with emotion. Laramis, Irodee, Wren and the others all glared in the direction of the choking god. Odin reeled, body pierced by four arrows; one in each of his knees, one in his stomach and the last in his throat.

With Sarai lying in his arms, Bannor felt a cold sense of satisfaction at seeing Janai attack Odin. The cruel lord deserved to feel some of the pain he’d been inflicting on others.

“Smug bastard,” Janai hissed. “It’s more than tempting to me.”

Steel rang, and Bannor looked over to see Loki off his silver skinned horse sword in his hand. Though Idun’s magic still blocked his immortal powers, the god’s eyes glowed as though fire burned in them. “She is not the only one wishing you dead. That was my daughter you struck down. She was unarmed!”

“Hold!” Idun ordered, holding up a hand and interposing herself between the group and Odin. “Attack again without being threatened and you will answer to me.”

Gagging, Odin yanked the arrow from his throat. He glared at Janai and tossed the arrow down with a clink. He turned a scowl on Idun, rubbing his bloody throat. “You call heel rather slowly, Lady Idun.” He yanked the arrow from his gut with a grimace and a spurt of blood. Wincing, he faced the approaching Loki. “As for you—now she is your dead daughter? Vex me not with your lies and sniveling. The bitch attacked me and paid for it. As will that one.” He pointed a finger at Janai.

Those words drew a sharp reaction, and an intake of breath. King T’Evagduran’s ringing bass rose hard and sharp. “Have care, Lord.” He stepped into Bannor’s view next to Janai. “Our family shall not tolerate any further aggression. Though god you be, you will not find Carellion’s children without their ways of dealing revenge.”

Kalindinai stepped up next to her husband. Wren’s parents stepped up to flank them, shoulders stiff and ready to fight.

With Idun in her path, the rage fueling Janai seemed to expire. She knelt by Daena’s burned and ravaged form. She brushed the girl’s face with her fingertips.

Odin grunted. “Idun, shut your dogs up. Their yapping annoys me.”

“Odin,” the goddess replied, folding her arms. She nodded to the Valkyries of his Bloodguard, and the fallen gods of the High Jury. “I think you fail to grasp the gravity of your situation.”

“Yes,” Loki rumbled still staring at Odin, fingers loosening and tightening on his sword. “You have no allies left.”

The All-father yanked the remaining two arrows from his legs with a growl, then stared at them with his one good eye. He raised his chin and sneered at Loki. “I would never be fool enough to count you an ally, Trickster.” He pointed a finger at Idun. “The grave situation is yours, Lady. If you kill me, the remainder of your life will be measured in days. If not, I have time—I will have a reckoning for this insult.”

The god’s words sent a heat of anger searing through Bannor. He saw stars flash behind his eyes. The force of it made him dizzy. “Insult?! You murdering bastard!” He gripped Sarai’s body, feeling the tears burn on his cheeks. “What does it take to satisfy you? You invited this trouble—and then have the gall to call it an insult!”

“Bannor—desist! All of you.” Idun said. “I will see to our satisfaction in this matter.”

Bannor felt a hand touch his shoulder. He looked up as Laramis knelt next to him, with Irodee close behind. The Myrmigyne tossed her long black hair, and leaned close, her dark eyes round with concern. The Myrmigyne and Sarai had experienced their differences of opinion in the past, but he knew there had been a mutual respect between the two women.

Laramis brushed Sarai’s cheek with his fingers. He whispered. “My friend, please, let me see … there may still be spark in her. Let Irodee tend you, you’re losing blood.”

Kalindinai and T’Evagduran turned abruptly, Bannor guessed they must not have seen their daughter collapse. The expressions on the two elder Elf’s faces confirmed it, and they rushed toward where she lay with him. Janai looked back from where she knelt by Daena.

The princess’ eyes narrowed. Her jaw tightened and her eyes glinted with icy malice. “Idun,” Janai gritted. “His forces were defeated. He struck while we were trying to negotiate. This cannot be let go.”

“Child, you will let it go,” Idun snapped. “I have eyes—I saw. He is not one so easily called to task for his wrongs.”

Bannor let Laramis and Queen Kalindinai gently remove Sarai from his arms. He then let Irodee start working at his armor. He’d been so concerned for Sarai that he’d forgotten his own wounds. He grunted in pain, hearing blood slick flesh suck at the chain hauberk as the Myrmigyne coaxed it off him. He met Irodee’s dark eyes when the woman clicked her teeth in empathy to his injuries. He tried not to think of the bloody eruptions of white thrusting through his skin and what they meant. Bannor focused instead on Kalindinai and Laramis as they stretched Sarai out between them. Watching them work he allowed himself to hope that they could help her.

The Queen loosened the straps on Sarai’s armor with quick jerks and stripped her down. Running expert fingers across her daughter’s skin, she probed for wounds and hints of her affliction.

Laramis took Sarai’s wrist and pressed the skin to his cheek. His brow furrowed and he took his little finger and traced the surface of her forehead.

Kalindinai’s expert hands flickered over Sarai’s body, probing her legs and abdomen. The Queen’s fingers froze and her amber eyes narrowed. She mumbled words, and her arms took on a reddish glow. Bannor felt the hair on the back on his neck stiffen, and he heard a soft crackling like sparks between cloth on a hot spring day. She touched Sarai’s body again.

“Carellion’s eyes!” the Queen gasped. “She’s with child!”

The King winced and gritted his teeth. “Yes, I had been meaning—”

“Had you now?” Kalindinai snapped. “When would that be? After our grandchild was dead!”

The shrillness of her tone made Bannor flinch. He felt cold claws closing around him. Still, he didn’t want to accept that Sarai was dead. He winced, and a groan escaped his clenched teeth as Irodee bound one of his broken arms.

Laramis had been so focused that he didn’t even react to the Queen’s outburst. “Odd,” he murmured.

“What?” Kalindinai’s fierce demeanor vaporized, and she turned to him.

The paladin frowned. “Her spark is not low. It’s not here.”

“Gone? Where would it—” She paused, then glanced toward Daena. “Frell! That’s how they did it. Damn!”

Behind them, the tensions of the confrontation remained high. The rest of their group continued to stare down Odin. Tymoril and Kegari the dragons, their scales blackened by soot and sand scoring, had come across the field and now loomed over Idun. Fins on their heads pressed flat to their skulls, the two giant reptiles focused narrowed golden eyes on Odin, tails whipping in obvious agitation. Maac and the other mercenaries were bringing their wounded toward the group. Kylie and Jhord stood with their flaming swords trained on Odin, their wings puffed out and riffling in the wind.

“Vanidaar!” Kalindinai called to Wren’s father. “We need you!”

The mage looked around. He left Euriel and Wren after a slight hesitation, and came to kneel by the Elf queen.

“She’s with child,” Kalindinai explained in a rush. “Can you keep the baby alive?”

Vanidaar frowned. “Certainly—what are you—?”

“Please.” Kalindinai said in firm tone that didn’t make it a request.

Shaking his head, the savant leaned over Sarai. Bannor saw threads spin out from him into his beloved’s body, fanning a single tiny spark to life. Apparently, Idun’s trap had no affect on Vanidaar’s Nola. What was the nature of his power that he could sustain life with it?

“Damn,” Kalindinai growled. She hit Laramis on the shoulder and pointed to Daena. “Check the girl quick. They must have joined somehow—probably through the flux stones.”

The paladin leaped to his feet, rushed over and landed sliding on his knees next to Daena. He started examining her burned form like a drunk searching for his lost bottle.

Kylie stepped back to stand guard over the paladin’s actions.

“Idun we cannot just stand here, we must act before the Bloodguard recover,” Kylie murmured looking around at the red armored Valkyrie scattered around the perimeter. Some of them had begun to stir. The blonde Valkyrie glanced toward Daena and what Laramis was doing.

“Aye,” Jhord agreed. “Best to act soon ‘fore let we be findin ourselves in a worse stew.”

Kylie bent over Daena, and placed her fingers against the auburn-haired girl’s throat as the paladin did his examinations. The young woman’s skin, which even a knife could not mark had been blackened and blistered by the power Odin unleashed into her. The blonde Valkyrie’s features grew stiff and she drew a breath. She looked at Laramis and shook her head.

“Cease this prattle,” Odin said. “I own you—all of you. You live or die at my will. I do as I please, and you will like it.”

A male voice boomed across the field from behind Odin. “Father, say no more, lest you deepen the pit within which you already stand.”

The All-father turned toward the voice’s origin where Thor, the god of thunder and his wife, Sif, were stepping from between the rocks where they must have been concealed. The Thundergod wore his russet hair braided and wrapped for ceremony. He wore furs over a hauberk of polished mail. The jewels on his fingers and hanging around his neck made it clear he was dressed for show and not battle. Elbow through his, Sif shone as a resplendent lady of the court of Valhalla. Her metallic gold hair flashed in rays of light now shining through a break in the dark clouds overhead. An elaborate ceremonial dress of deep violet with gold chased hems and interwoven with patterns of gleaming silver swished and fluttered in the wind as she moved.

Odin must not have recognized how Thor was dressed, or did not really comprehend what he had said, because he smiled. “My Son, good. We can now be done with this foolishness.”

“Aye, Father, done we shall be. This effrontery cannot be allowed to go on. What I have witnessed sickens me.”

Odin turned to Idun with a smirk. “What will you now, Lady?”

Thor growled. “You mistake me, Sire.” Disengaging himself from Sif, he threw back his red cloak, pulled the hammer Mjolnir off his belt and held it up. He drew a breath. “Sire, it is your duty to surrender to lady Idun for unseemly acts that dishonor our house.”

“WHAT!?” Odin roared. He spun to face the Thunderlord who had stopped a short distance away fingering his thick beard. “Treacherous nave. Do you know what you ask?”

Thor’s blue eyes flashed and he tossed one his braids over his shoulder; the one with a battle wrap around it. He squared himself hand on hip, knuckles white around the hammer. “Aye. Well I know. What will you, Father? I am not some little Ka’Amok that you can bash about. Will you cross weapons with me? Our house should be the untarnished measure by which the others are judged. I saw not a paragon this day—but a disgrace!”

“Will you be a traitor then? Your own brother Vidar is dead of these mortals, and your mother lies there grievously wounded.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed. He tossed another wrapped braid over his shoulder. “She is not my mother. My brother is dead of your arrogance. I would have halted this debacle so this ne’er came to pass, but your eagerness for blood had it over before I could move. After that, I thought I would observe an honorable surrender, instead I witnessed behavior both base and unseemly. It must end now, Father.”

“End?” Odin drew himself up. “So, will you make war on your sire?”

Thor’s jaw tightened. He flicked back the last of his braids and worried his boots into the soil. “Only if forced. I protect the realm against all threats. Even against unfit lords.”

“Ungrateful whelp.” Odin gestured. Laramis and Janai ducked as his spear shuddered and jerked out of Daena’s body, then hurtled into his hand.

Thor shook his head. “Don’t, milord.”

“Speak not—scoundrel!” The All-father rushed forward.

Sif stepped aside as Thor threw off his cloak. He guarded the spear away with a sweep of his hammer. Spinning inside the weapon’s reach, he swung Mjolnir into the back of Odin’s helmet with a bang. The spear Grungir skittered across the ground as the All-father sprawled with a cough of pain and shock.

Odin clawed at the soil, and started to rise.

Thor gripped his battle braid and pointed at his father. “Father. Do not force me to strike again. We stand before two ladies of the court, and two of the chosen.”

Odin launched himself at this son, gripping the Thundergod’s throat with both hands. “I answer to no whelp!”

Thor reeled back under Odin’s attack. The look in the thundergod’s eyes was not one of fear—but sadness. He broke Odin’s grip with a shrug of his massive shoulders, then gripping Mjolnir he brought his fist whistling into the elder warrior’s stomach with a crash that made the air shake. Odin folded around the blow. As he staggered to one side, Thor brought his elbow smashing down across the back of the god’s thick neck.

The ground shook as the one-eyed god’s face exploded into the hard dirt of the field, sending dirt and dust into the air.

Odin did not stir again.

Thor ripped the battle braid from his own scalp and tossed the bound lock of hair onto his father’s back. Shaking his head, he hung Mjolnir on his belt and turned to them. “This vendetta is over. The house of Odin shall make reparations and wergild if necessary for this atrocity. A son may overlook much in the deeds of the father—but there is a limit. Even if he is the father of us all.” He glanced around at the red armored Valkyries who were beginning to sit up. He nodded to Sif. “Summon all your chosen, my Wife. Do not let the Bloodguard interfere in this.” He turned to Kylie and Jhord. “If it is your desire, you may remain in Idun’s service.” His gestured to Idun. “I have matters in hand with my father.” He stepped to where Odin’s spear lay, picked it up, and tossed it to her. The goddess caught the weapon with a curious expression on her face. “Take this, you may find it valuable in restoring those last felled. Father captures the spirits of his foes so they may not be healed to strike at him again. See to your fallen, and to those of the High Jury that yet live.” He swung around and glared at Loki. “As for you—wight. You instigated this problem with your whispers in Father’s ear.”

Loki shrugged. “Is it my fault, Odinson, that he listened?”

Thor swept his cloak off the ground and fastened it about his shoulders. “Begone deceiver, before I lay you low as well.”

“Nay, my child is here. I wish to see if she can be counted among the living.”

Thor scowled at him. “Seek not sympathy from me for your lack of foresight, Trickster. You spoke the words that put her at risk. If stay you must, let me hear not your quibbles, else you shall answer for it severely.”

Spear in hand, Idun walked back toward Kalindinai and Vanidaar. She handed the weapon to the Elf Queen. “It appears to be as the Odinson says. I sense two sparks within.”

Kalindinai nodded to the goddess, her gaze shifting to Vanidaar with a raised eyebrow. She held the weapon out to him. “Can you?”

The savant’s brow furrowed as he took the metal shaft into his fingers. Bannor felt his heart beating hard, as he watched the other savant consider the problem. Vanidaar slid his palm down the shaft toward the tines still covered in Daena’s blood. He smoothed away the dirt and grit that had clung to the metal with careful strokes showing obvious care around the edges that winked with lethal sharpness. As he caressed the metal, sparks danced around his hand and a golden glow spread around the shaft of the weapon.

The mage narrowed his eyes and his jaw worked, the glow around the weapon became brighter and colors flickered through the yellowish illumination.

Vanidaar jerked and his face, already serious, turned grim. He glanced to Bannor, then to Kalindinai. His deep voice, heavy and precise, uttered the words like a physician pronouncing a diagnosis. “They’re definitely in here, and their sparks are intact. The problem is this is a weapon. It’s meant to destroy, not heal. If it was only one, I would have no problem, but it’s two and they’re—” He paused and his throat worked. “Tangled.” He drew a breath. “Not only tangled, but snarled up in the guts of this—thing. I also have the additional complexity in that there is an unborn’s life in the sway as well.”

“Please, Vanidaar,” Kalindinai said. “Can you restore them?”

The mage frowned. “I was getting to that, Kal. Pardon, while I figure this out. Spirit matters are complex and delicate.” He drew another breath. “I have tools specific to this task, but they are not here. With them, I could definitely safely restore them. Without, it’s very chancy I could lose both…” His voice trailed off.

Bannor tried to speak but the words stuck. He cleared his throat with effort. “Sir, I hear a ‘but’ … is something else wrong?”

“Time,” Vanidaar said. “The longer they remain, the weaker their sparks and the more entangled they get. If we wait too long, even with my special tools, I may not be able to recover either. So, someone will have to choose. It’s not an easy choice.”

Bannor’s mouth had turned dry. “Because either way—we may lose them both…”

Enigmatic. It’s a word I had never used to describe any one before meeting Wren’s father, Vanidaar Kergatha. During our first few days together we probably traded ten words altogether. Since, I have actually managed to have some conversations with him and have learned that he’s a sensible, intelligent, easy going individual that demonstrates a formidable competence in many things. Many adventures later I still don’t know much more than that. Enigmatic indeed.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 43
Tangled Lives: Loki’s Assistance

« ^ »

Bannor stared down at Sarai’s pale features, at the closed lids that might never open again, the mouth that might never speak his name again. The mere thought of her dying when they were so close to freedom brought bile to his throat. He glanced toward where Daena lay. Even worse, the auburn-haired savant was only a child. Odin struck her down as she attempted save him. He had promised to protect her. Hella transformed her into an immortal—how could she die?

Without intending to, he discovered ways to kill immortals—ways to end the lives of creatures hundreds of millennia old. It certainly wasn’t a distinction he cared to carry with him for the rest of his life.

Bannor drew a breath. His chest hurt. The burnt smell of ash and singed hair still lingered in the air. The gale of Odin’s storm was now only an occasional gust, Gladshiem’s brilliant light shone through a break in the clouds. Dark streaks of blackened soil radiated across the field, centered where Tyr and Vidar met their end. Odin’s wife Frigga, Bragi and the other gods of the High Jury still lay sprawled around the epicenter, stunned by the loss of their magic and the destructive blast. The red armored Valkyries of Odin’s Bloodguard stirred, sitting up and rubbing their heads. The glassy looks in their eyes and the way they wavered as though drunk showed it would still be a while before they recovered.

Idun’s forces stood together in pained silence watching over Daena and Sarai, the only two wounded in the conflict. Tymoril and Kegari the dragons, their scales cast in muted blues and greens, leaned over the assemblage watching with wide gold eyes. Kegari slid closer to observe Irodee’s bandaging of Bannor’s injured arms. Fins cocked forward on her head, the huge creature nudged him. The pain of his injuries kept him from giving the massive creature a reassuring touch.

He winced as Irodee worked on his arm. The power that Sarai channeled through him in that last desperate moment had been more than his body could withstand. Bloody eruptions in the skin of his forearms showed where the bone had snapped between the elbow and wrist. The Myrmigyne worked with the efficiency and care of a trained healer. Enhanced by the energy of Idun’s fruit, the strength in her fingers was sufficient to massage the bones back into place, setting them so they would heal correctly. The pain of the procedure made him light headed and dizzy.

Before this, his concern over Sarai kept him from noticing the pain. Now, as the fear energy drained away, it hit him all at once. His stomach churned and it hurt to take a breath. His eyes burned from the ashes kicked up by the wind. He rubbed at his face with his shoulder, unable to raise his arms without pain.

Odin had trapped Sarai and Daena’s spirit-energy in his spear Grungir. No doubt, he only intended to trap Daena, not knowing that Sarai had joined with the young Savant. Wren’s father Vanidaar, whose nola power appeared to affect the life energy of creatures, claimed that with the proper tools, the two women might be restored. Unfortunately, the mage didn’t have those implements with him, and by the time they could be retrieved it would probably then be too late to save either his love or the girl.

Bannor gritted his teeth as he felt his bones grind beneath Irodee’s insistent fingers. “There has to be another way,” he forced through clenched teeth. He looked up to the blonde goddess Idun, dressed in her silver armor. “You did something like this before.” He glanced at Kalindinai and T’Evagduran staring down at their stricken daughter. “You healed her before. You restored Sarai.”

The goddess nodded. “I did. Like Vanidaar, I require a tool for such delicate magical work. I must maintain the magical block to keep the High Jury and the Bloodguard incapacitated until Sif returns with the chosen. With the block up, I cannot summon my tools, nor could I work the magic even if I had them.”

Bannor refused to let Sarai die because they lacked a tool. “These items they—auugh—” He bit down on the pain as he heard bone pop and felt flesh shift. His stomach knotted. “These devices—they’re simply to isolate their essence, right?” He glanced toward Vanidaar and then to Idun. “I know both their patterns. The Garmtur knows their life sigils. Before the battle, I rebuilt Wren’s Nola after having changed it. If that’s what you require. I’m the only tool you need!”

Vanidaar’s dark eyes widened, the man’s normally cool expression broke and his jaw dropped. “You rebuilt my daughter’s nola?”

“It’s true, Father,” Wren confirmed walking up and taking her grandmother Idun’s hand. “That’s how my powers changed to get me out of that cell. Bannor changed my pattern to match some other savant’s Nola. He even did it while he was astral!”

“That’s—unthinkable—” Euriel shook her head.

“Is it?” Idun said in a ringing voice. “Look around us.”

Euriel glanced around at the fallen gods, and the blistered and disrupted epicenter where Bannor’s nola had turned the full power of two immortals against each other in a single horrendous burst.

“He can do it,” Kalindinai said in a firm voice. The Elf queen’s violet eyes flashed and she fixed Bannor with her penetrating gaze. “I feel more confident of him as a means than these far off tools.”

Face tight, the King looked at his wife. “Kal, are you certain?”

“Yes,” Kalindinai said without hesitation. “I have walked the blood circle with him. I put my life in his hands and he did not waver. I would expect no less with Sarai’s life in the balance.” She drew a breath. She rose slowly, stepped close and clamped her hand around Bannor’s throat. She leaned close, nose almost touching his. Bannor detected hints of her perspiration and the lingering scent of smoke and spices in her hair. “Regardless, what we shall discuss later is how we now have a grandchild when you and Sarai are unmarried.” She clicked her teeth together and her eyes narrowed. “It’s not in your nature to be deceptive, so I doubt you would knowingly collude in so brazen an attempt to manipulate the throne.” She raised her chin. “Pray I do not discover otherwise.” She paused. “Bring her back to me. Please.” She pushed back, gaze still fixed on him.

Staring into the Queen’s eyes he shivered, he never wanted this woman for an enemy. His voice cracked. “I would do anything for Sarai.”

Kalindinai sniffed. “I know.” She turned to Vanidaar. “Please help Sarai, I think Bannor is your best chance.”

“Mortals, you will require my assistance,” Loki said, speaking up for the first time since Thor warned him to silence. He stepped forward, a slender rail of a man dressed in green and gold, with shock of ebony hair tied into a tail that reached his waist.

The Thundergod who stood guard over Odin with his arms folded, fixed Loki with icy blue eyes. “They need not your help, Trickster. Quell your tongue.”

“Nay, they know not of the traps within Odin’s spear. Yon spirit mage will find himself a victim of Odin’s magic as well as my daughter if he attempts it.”

Thor fingered the hammer Mjolnir on his side. “Bah, I know of no such traps in my sire’s weapon.”

Loki’s feral features twisted into a smile. “Tell me, Odinson, what good is a trap that is known about? Would your liege leave his valued magic open to any who chose to meddle?”

Thor’s brow furrowed and he was silent.

“Not that I like it,” Euriel said in a low voice. “It makes sense.”

Green eyes glinting like jewels, Loki flashed sparkling grin. Smoothing his ebony hair, he cast a look at Idun. His tone became soft and melodic. “You know I am right, Milady. Odin trusted no one, not e’n his own son.”

Thor growled. “Right or wrong, you should not be trusted.”

“Nay!” Loki snapped. “This girl Odin felled is blood of my flesh. I offer only for that, not this Freyr-kin pretender. She is nothing but sneak-thief seeking to acquire what is not hers to possess.”

King T’Evagduran stiffened hand on his sword. “Have care creature.”

Loki stared at the King lip curling. “Yammer not, if you wish your child restored—heed me. I am the Lord of Tricks. There is no trap that I cannot foil.” He paused and raised his hands. “Trust me.”

Wren cringed. “He just had to say that.”

“Decide now,” Vanidaar said. “Their flesh will deteriorate soon.”

“Deteriorate?” Laramis said. “Daena is gone my friend, her heart beats not.”

“My nola says that flesh lives,” the mage said. “Sarai is another matter. Without a spark to drive it, her body is far more endangered. I sustain her and the baby now with my nola, but I cannot do so and pull them from Odin’s weapon.”

Janai rose from beside Daena and pushed a hand through her hair. She glanced at her mother, and drew a breath. She cleared her throat and spoke in low voice. “I’ll do it.” She coughed. “I—I can keep her alive while you work your magic. I won’t let my new niece die—or my annoying sister.”

Kalindinai looked at her daughter with a raised eyebrow. “Janai? Since when do you possess such skills?”

“I can do what needs done,” Janai said, evading the question.

Bannor looked into Janai’s amber eyes. She had obviously wanted to keep her ability secret for some reason. There was still so much of this family’s history he knew nothing about. “Thank you,” he said to Janai.

“Don’t,” the princess growled, she stepped over and set down her bow and quiver.

Kalindinai frowned. “So, you held out on us that time…”

“Mother—later. So, is Loki going to help us or not? He’s right, that spear will be trapped.”

Thor snorted. “I advise against it.”

Loki scowled at the russet bearded warrior.

“Let him,” Bannor said drawing a breath. He narrowed his eyes and looked toward where Tyr and Vidar had exploded in a burst of searing magic. “If he tries anything.” Bannor lowered his voice. “Pop.”

Loki laughed. “Fah. You admitted that was an accident.”

He growled. “Maybe.” A reddish glow spread down his torso, casting shadows around him. “That first time was an accident.” Body burning with anger, he rose and stared hard at the trickster lord. “Next time won’t be. If Sarai dies, you will be the next scorch mark on this field.” He started to move forward but stopped when Kalindinai put a restraining hand on Bannor’s shoulder.

“Hah—” Loki started to laugh again and stopped. He swallowed. Perhaps he had seen Bannor stiffen, felt his resolve to do as he threatened. “You have Loki’s word. For my daughter’s life, I will do this thing.”

“Do it, Vanidaar. Let Loki assist. Bannor will be your tools.” She turned to the King. “Unless you disagree, Husband.”

Rubbing his chin, King T’Evagduran eyed Bannor. “I concur.”

“Hie, let us to this then,” Loki said.

Janai knelt by Sarai’s head and whispered the words of what Bannor guessed must be an incantation. Kalindinai’s jaw dropped as Janai traced a glowing pattern over her sister. Bannor saw threads reach out from the princess’ magic and insinuate themselves into Sarai’s body and to the much smaller spark of their unborn child.

After a few moments, Vanidaar nodded. “A good binding. Are you all right?”

Janai nodded. “Idun’s magic will sustain me. Just don’t take too long.”

Loki stepped past Bannor and around the elves, and held his hand out for the spear. The god ignored the grim looks given him by Idun and Thor.

Vanidaar glanced again at Kalindinai and the Queen nodded.

Loki took the weapon and thrust it into the ground blunt end down, the sharp triplet of tines pointing toward the sky. The god snapped his fingers and pointed at Laramis. “You. Bring my daughter close.”

The paladin gritted his teeth but complied, picking up Daena’s extremely heavy body. If not for the enhancement from Idun’s fruit he would have had to drag the girl. He set her down near Sarai.

Loki bent and touched Daena’s face for an instant. Rising, he turned to the spear, clapped his hands and rubbed them together. He spoke a harsh guttural word drawn out like the beginning of song. As his voice tailed off, he uttered more sounds that became a staccato chant uttered in high and low tones. The god’s hands glowed a reddish hue as he raised them from his sides to hover fractions from touching the haft of Odin’s weapon.

The trickster lord’s body began to sway and he moved his hands rhythmically around the spear as though he were caressing something alive. He moved around the rooted shaft, hands teasing above the metallic surface.

Bannor flinched, and both Kalindinai and T’Evagduran hopped back a step when a burst of white lashed out of the weapon like a striking snake. Fast as it happened, the god was faster. He snatched his hand away from the “head” of the magic and clapped his glowing palms on the body instead.

Sparks flew, and the air filled with sizzling and crackling sounds as he wrestled with the magic that wrapped itself around his arms like a tree slither trying to crush its prey. He gasped and grunted with the thing before finally tossing it on the ground and smashing it beneath his boot like a poisonous serpent.

Flipping the ebony tail of his hair, Loki cast a glance at his half-brother Thor and raised an eyebrow.

“Spare me your looks,” Thor growled, fists on hips. “One deed does not undo the mischief you have caused.”

The god shrugged and turned to Vanidaar. “Do your work, Mage. Odin’s trap should hinder you naught.”

Vanidaar nodded, and gestured to Bannor. “So, how am I going to see as you see?”

Bannor thought about it a moment, then realized. He looked back to Wren who was standing next to Idun. “You can show him what you see through the flux stone, right?” She nodded. “I’ll show you, you share with him.”

Wren’s expression brightened. “That’ll work.” She broke away from Idun, came over and put a hand on Bannor’s shoulder.

“Not that I want to rush you,” Janai said, looking up from the glow of energy she was sustaining around Sarai. “But this isn’t easy to do. I would appreciate it if you hurried a little.”

He drew a breath, hoping he could make this work. Thrusting himself deep into the concentration of his Garmtur, he found the link that tied he and Wren together through Eternity.

“Here it comes,” he told her.

“Ready,” she answered, face intent.

“I am prepared,” Vanidaar said.

Bannor focused on his own threads, imagining everything he was seeing being propagated through them to Wren’s nola. At first, it didn’t seem to work, then he sensed and saw her nola respond. A tingling spread through his body as though his legs had fallen asleep.

Wren gasped. “Whoa. That feels strange.”

He kept focused, turning the power of his nola sight on the spear, and the magical and elemental energies that writhed and twisted around it.

“Damn,” the blonde savant breathed. “Look at that.”

Vanidaar drew a breath. “I am now.” He shook his head. “Bannor, how can you possibly tell one thing from another, there’s so much going on!”

He swallowed. “Guess it’s just part of each of our nolas that we can work our own special magic.” He bore down on the Garmtur, probing into the depths of the spear, searching for Sarai’s pattern. Deep in the heart of the weapon, he found her bluish pattern tangled up with the far brighter green light of Daena’s tao. It was as Vanidaar warned, their essences were wrapped up in each other like the entanglement of two balls of twine. The view brought to mind the tangle of threads that killed the two gods Tyr and Vidar, and the thought made Bannor shudder. “Damn that’s a mess how can we…”

“Let me get them out first,” Vanidaar said. The mage’s expression tightened, and his brow furrowed. A glow illuminated his eyes as he reached out toward the spear. His hands shuddered and he seemed to struggle like a man tugging on a rope. He drew breaths, tension making his arms shiver. Bannor saw energies flicker around the tangle of Daena and Sarai. They moved a little, stopped and moved again. Vanidaar grunted. “Damn, they’re—stuck.” The mage gritted his teeth, and perspiration broke out on his forehead. He gasped as the tangle appeared to break free. The massed spirit forces flowed out of the spear struck into the mage’s hands.

Vanidaar let out a startled yelp and went to his knees. His face went ashen. “Umph. There’s—a lot—of lifeforce here and it—doesn’t—want to behave!” Taking rapid breaths, he swallowed. “Bannor, I can’t tell them apart—which one is which?!”

Staring at the wildly fluctuating patterns Bannor realized that neither looked exactly right. There was something else twined and threaded through both Sarai and Daena. He imagined Sarai’s pattern searching for its most core essence amongst the swirling mass. “There!” In his mind, he imagined the strands surrounded in green glow. “That’s Sarai!”

“Yes!” Vanidaar let out. “I see.” His hands moved and in quick succession he was untangling the two from around each other. Before he even finished, the two broke apart explosively as though repelled. Each snapped back into a body as though attached to a spring.

“Shreds!” Wren said staggering back a step.

“Damn.” Vanidaar jerked. “What…?”

Golden sparks spun around Sarai’s limbs. There was sharp crack like the snap of a lash, and a flash. “Hey!” Janai yelped as she was knocked sliding backward for more than a pace. “Ow!” She shook her hands, sparks jumping and crackling around her fingertips. “Ouch. Ouch. Ouch!”

Bannor felt his heart jump as Sarai’s chest rose, and a movement stirred under her closed lids. He heard Queen Kalindinai make a low sound that could have been a choked back sob. The King pressed a clenched fist against his heart.

He started to say something when Daena also began to respond. Her body shuddered and light crackled along her arms and legs. The blackened skin began flaking off like a snake shedding its skin. Beneath the charred black tissue was pale tender looking flesh.

“What transpires,” Thor rumbled. “I thought this was going to be some involved process?”

“So did I,” Vanidaar said. “They weren’t so much tangled up as—” He paused. “Hanging on to one another.”

“So long as she’s alive, damn it,” Janai said sucking on her fingers. “That hurt. How did her lifeforce get so strong anyway? Felt like getting hit with a mallet!”

Bannor ignored their exchanges. “Thank you, Vanidaar,” he said, feeling his whole body tremble with relief. “Thank you.” He knelt next to Sarai along with the King and Queen.

Sarai’s breathing deepened, and her lips parted. Her eyelids fluttered and parted. Her violet eyes widened and she smiled. “Bannor,” she said.

“Star,” he breathed, giving her a kiss. His heart was burned with relief and thankfulness. His love had pulled through. “I love you.”

Sarai blinked, and her brow furrowed. “Bannor?” She swallowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, you’re alive!” he said. “Lie still, you’ll be okay.”

“Feel so strange,” she murmured.

He caught a movement from the corner of his eye and looked around. Daena pushed herself up to a sitting position and ran a hand through her auburn hair. With the powerful spark back in her body, the immortal flesh had healed with amazing speed—not counting her damaged armor, she didn’t appear as if ever injured by Odin. She blinked her glowing green eyes and looked down at her hands. She opened and closed her fingers experimentally. She looked up and noticed Bannor studying her.

She gave him a broad smile. “There you are, my One!” She looked passed him to the King and Queen. “Mother, Father, isn’t it good to be alive!?”

We savant’s really are strange creatures, especially when you consider the way we can zip around without our bodies, or take over bodies that don’t belong to us. Despite that, it’s startling when some immortally charged spirit does the same antics. I know they’re bored, but people should just stay in their own damn bodies…

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 44
Of Changing Faces and Bloodguard

« ^ »

Bannor stared at Daena’s broad face at the wide-set eyes that looked like green glows that cast shadows across her cheekbones. Strands of her long auburn hair twitched in the breeze tickling her forehead and fluttering under her strong chin. She pressed her generous lips together and she smiled. She made a soft sound familiar to Bannor.

She was humming.

Even after she called out to her parents, Bannor didn’t want to believe. He only recently grew accustomed to the new Sarai! He looked down to the woman with wide violet eyes, her severe face with its beautiful angular symmetry. Strands of silvery hair fell across her eyes as she struggled to get up. This was Sarai, it had to be, she was carrying his child!

Sitting in the dirt, Princess Janai put fists on hips and stared toward Daena. “Sarai, what in Carellion’s name are you doing over there!”

Loki snorted and turned his back on the tableau. “The sneak-thief shows her colors. As the spirit-mage observed, they were not trapped—but locked together within the spear.”

No-one paid any attention to the god.

“My One,” Daena said. Her brow furrowed and her lips pressed into a frown. “You’re hurt.” She slid forward and put her arms delicately around him. Her face went to the curve of his neck. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry, we couldn’t get through sooner. Thank Carellion you’re alive.”

Next to him Daena touched his leg and smiled at him. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, she looked like Sarai.

“Sarai!” Janai said again.

“What?” Sarai growled over his shoulder. “I heard you the first time.”

Queen Kalindinai drew a breath. “Sarai, you didn’t answer. Tell me you didn’t do this intentionally.”

Sarai pushed back, glancing up at Idun and Thor who both frowned. She glanced at her sister, then back to her mother. “Well, not entirely.” She sniffed. “Daena wanted to be me. She can’t be in two places at once.”

Daena pushed herself up to a sitting position, and brushed at her silvery hair. She gulped, looking at the King and Queen. “It’s true. I—care for Bannor.”

“Well, care for him in your own body, young lady,” King T’Evagduran said.

Wren laughed but stopped when the King glared at her.

It did sound funny. It was less humorous knowing Sarai had been willing to cooperate. She never wanted Meliandri’s cast off shell. With no other choice, she had resigned herself to that form. Later adapting it with Idun’s help to be the violet-eyed image he loved. Why couldn’t she be satisfied?

Kalindinai stared at Daena. “So, Daena, are you planning on having my daughter’s baby for her?”

Daena’s eyes widened and her face turned crimson. “I—I—I didn’t think about it. It was only a brief notion and Sarai let me…” Her voice trailed off.

The Queen rolled her eyes. “Blessed wonderful. Guess we can count ourselves lucky they live, and sort out identities later.”

“Mother, is it safe to leave them like that?” Janai asked, eying Sarai.

Queen Kalindinai thrust her hands into the air. “You ask me?! Sarai wasn’t in her natural body to start with. I don’t know what that is she’s in now. Daena has enough spirit energy to cook Sarai,” she indicated the girl who looked up at her with wide violet eyes. “She doesn’t look in any distress. So, you tell me.”

Janai rose, dusted herself off, and she gave her sister an arch look. “You are up to something. You knew you could not stay this way.”

Sarai sniffed. “I’m up to something? What about you conspiring to…”

“Enough!” King T’Evagduran shouted pointing a finger at his daughters. “This is neither the time nor the place. Let us find our way home.”

“I like not her usurping of my child’s body,” Loki growled staring at the King with narrowed glowing eyes. “I suggest you rectify it soon—or I shall.”

“Nay, Trickster.” Thor rumbled. “You will quell thy tongue and step away now. The next displeasing utterance from thy lips will be silenced with Mjolnir.”

The trickster lord snorted, but did as ordered.

“Sarai, Sarai,” Queen Kalindinai sighed. The exasperated expression on her face was one that Bannor guessed had existed since the invention of motherhood. Her brow furrowed as she looked around, focusing on some of Odin’s Bloodguard who rose to their feet. “Shouldn’t Sif be back with the Chosen by now?”

“Yes,” Idun said, brow furrowing. “What think you Odinson, should not your wife have returned already?”

Thor pulled at his beard. Kylie and Tymoril made warning growls as two of the Bloodguard, notably the biggest, started heading for the group toward where Odin lay at Thor’s feet.

Seeing more of the Bloodguard rising, Bannor felt particularly helpless with his arms so badly damaged he couldn’t hold a weapon if he wanted to. A gust of cold wind swirled through the clearing, still smelling of burned hair and ash.

“Methinks she should have returned already, yes,” Thor said, brow furrowed. He watched the Valkyries approach with narrowed blue eyes. “I would know what she is about if not for this damnable magic of yours.”

“If your sire played fair I would not have needed it.”

Kylie and Jhord stepped into the path of the two Bloodguard. The black-winged Valkyries dressed in red armor towered over both of them.

White wings bristling Kylie put up a hand to stop the biggest Bloodguard. “Hold Voldroth,” she said. She brushed back her blonde hair and put fists on hips. “Your counsel is not needed here.”

“Your squeaks are of no consequence to me,” Voldroth rasped, a sneer on her thin lips. She did not attempt to pass Kylie though. “Scion of Odin, am I to think you have turned against our Lord?”

Thor frowned. “Your thoughts, Voldroth, are naught I care about. My think is a few taps with Mjolnir may put a civil tongue in your head. Your Lord lies at my feet, thus I do not have to abide your insolence.”

The Bloodguard named Voldroth folded her arms. “You will wish to listen to this, Thunderlord. I heard speculation on the whereabouts of your troth. She be in the arms of my sisters. Our lord charged us to intercept any who left this battle without his leave. While you could best the maidens here, Odinson, it is fair to say even mighty Mjolnir cannot sustain you against ten score of my sisters.”

Shaking her head, Wren leaned against her grandmother Idun. “Just great.”

Euriel drew a breath and put an arm around her husband’s shoulders. “Probably, the only reason they aren’t on us now is your shield, Mother.”

Idun nodded.

“As noted,” Loki said, grinning. “The All-father does not have to play fair. He ordered the Bloodguard that if he fell in battle, they should slay the victors.”

“Villain!” Thor spun around, and slammed Mjolnir into Loki’s gut. The strike folded the god like parchment, and knocked him a dozen paces where he slammed into Kegari’s side. The dragon yielded less than a wall might have. Kegari merely jerked in surprise, and looked at what hit her. Seeing it was Loki, she stomped him the way someone might impulsively squish an irritating bug. She didn’t lift her claws though, she kept him pinned him beneath her tons of mass.

Thor glared at god who moaned in anguish under the pressure applied by the huge dragon. “Miscreant! You said nothing—knowing my wife was going into that trap!” He snorted. “My thanks, dragoness, stomp him more if you like. His worthless life is yours.” Thor whirled on Vuldroth, fist on his braid. “I suggest you do not tempt my temper.”

Bannor winced. “Ouch.”

“To be sure,” Sarai said, nodding. “Bastard deserved it too.”

He looked up at her. He found it so odd to hear Daena’s echoing tones giving voice to what were obviously Sarai’s words.

“Lord,” Vuldroth said. “I suggest you surrender and turn Odin over to us.”

“Do you?” Thor growled. “I suggest that if the Bloodguard have injured my wife, that I will thrash all who has dared raise arms against her. Take your sisters and begone from my sight, or I shall slay you now.”

“Odinson—” She stopped mid-word as the god raised his hammer as if to throw it. “As you wish. We will join our sisters.”

Vuldroth and the other Valkyrie stalked off, gesturing for the others to follow. The score-odd winged warriors filed off between the rocks to the east, probably toward where they knew the body of their contingent waited.

“Was that prudent?” Idun asked Thor.

“Nay,” he responded. “Twas my anger speaking, but I abide not threats from servitor creations.”

Daena stood and looked around. Kalindinai put a hand on her shoulder, and the girl looked at her with an unreadable expression. Bannor could only guess what was going through the young savant’s mind. Could that expression be envy? Wishing she had a family and a mother—even one as controlling and brusque as Kalindinai? Despite her other faults, Bannor had seen on many occasions ample demonstration that the Queen loved her children.

Janai shifted to stand next to Daena. Daena saw Janai looking at her, and her cheeks colored. She looked down. “I hope you’re not mad,” she whispered.

The older princess smiled. “You saved their lives—that’s what counts.” She kissed her on the cheek.

“Counts! That’s it!” Daena bounced on her toes, expression brightening. “Why are we worried? The Bloodguard can’t see us any better than Odin could! We can walk out of here.”

“Hey, that’s right!” Wren said grinning. “Daena still has us hidden. All we have to do is keep out of sight. They caught Sif because she wasn’t protected.”

“If we leave,” Bannor said. “Those Bloodguard will follow. I saw the look in that lady Vuldroth’s eyes, she plans to use Sif as a way to pressure Thor.”

“I fear you have the right of that, Mortal,” Thor said in his ground rattling bass. “For the nonce, they would not be fool enough hurt my wife unless pressed. We would be best served to gamble on that and fortify ourselves in Asgard.”

“Will not Odin have more Bloodguard there?” King T’Evagduran asked.

“Aye,” Thor agreed, thumping Mjolnir into the palm of his hand. “The difference will be that my servitors, Sif’s, and Idun’s will be at our beck. With my Sire disabled, and the High Jury felled, those who lacked the spine to stand up on this issue will be more willing to provide their support. My think is they will be quick to garner favor if they smell a change in power.”

“He is a big one to talk isn’t he,” Sarai whispered in Bannor’s ear. She put her arm around his waist, pressing against him, but careful of his injuries. “Took you strangling the big oaf to get him to do what was right.”

Bannor nodded. He forced himself to relax. As Daena, Sarai had a different smell, a different feel. Would he have to adjust all over again? What about their child? What was Sarai thinking? Did she, as Janai accused, have some reason for doing it? Surely, she didn’t plan on leaving their child behind.

Idun turned to Daena. “Can you conceal Thor and Odin as you have done the others?”

“Sure,” Daena chirped. “Anything to get out of here before something else bad happens.” She focused glowing violet eyes on Thor. Eyes narrowing as she pointed a finger at Thor. She drew a breath after a moment and winced. Putting a hand to her forehead, she staggered and Kalindinai and Janai had to steady her. “Ooof. That didn’t feel right.”

“Hey,” Sarai growled. “Be careful with my body.”

Kalindinai’s concerned expression turned angry as she whirled on Sarai. “Be careful?!” she snapped. “You shouldn’t have let her into your form to begin with! Honestly, Child, I don’t know what gets into your head at times!”

Sarai drew a breath. “Trust me, Mother, it will make sense later.”

“Will it?” Kalindinai said, voice hard. “I will take that wager! I—”

“Kal.” The Queen subsided instantly when the King gripped her shoulder. She frowned at him, then turned her amber eyes back on Sarai and pointed a finger at her. “It has been four centuries, but you are not too old to spank.”

Sarai raised an eyebrow.

Staring at the Queen, Bannor could tell she was deadly earnest.

At the outburst, Daena had drawn into herself, obviously trying not to be noticed. The queen had chosen to focus on Sarai even though the princess was really only half responsible for the body exchange.

Raking a hand through her dark hair, Kalindinai turned to Daena. “Are you all right?”

Eyes wide, Daena swallowed and nodded.

“Do it, and be careful of the baby.”

Daena’s pale face stiffened at the mention of the baby. Self consciously, she touched her abdomen and nodded again.

Thor shot them a look with one eye closed. “Are we ready yet?”

Pushing back her silver hair, Daena poised herself and raised both hands. Eyes narrowing, she stared at Thor. After a few instants her arms started to shake and she gritted her teeth. “Ugh,” she grunted. “It must be this body. I focused everything I had and barely did it. It’s not nearly as solid as the other ones I did.”

“It’s good enough,” Idun determined, eying Thor.

Bannor noticed Sarai scrutinizing Daena as if looking for something. “You okay?” She asked.

Daena glanced at her. “I guess. It felt like I was broken inside, like something was missing.” She rubbed between her breasts. “I think its getting better though.”

Sarai glanced at Bannor and smiled. “Good.”

The young Savant looked up at Thor. “Don’t you think it would be dangerous for me to do Odin?” she asked. “What if he got away? I’d be the only one who could see him.”

Thor frowned. “Point well made. Methinks, this will do.” He bent and placed his hand on Odin’s chest. After a several heartbeats his hand glowed red and he closed his fingers around the All-father’s flux stone. He walked over to where Frigga still lay among the other fallen of the High Jury. Even in the short time many of her injuries showed signs of healing. The goddess’ face still wore an expression of pain. He knelt by her. “Keep this,” he said in low voice, and placed it in her hand.

The goddess closed her fingers on the large gem, her dark eyes followed Thor, but she said nothing.

“That shall serve us double fold,” he said. “It shall delay any further mischief on my father’s part, and fool his guard into thinking he still lies here.” He walked to his Father and hefted him onto his shoulder. “Let us begone from this place. Idun gather all to you that are going … when we go—it must be in haste. When you drop your magic, those here will heal quickly. Vuldroth and her kith won’t take long to realize our deception.”

“To mount,” Idun said. She moved quickly to an open space and raised her arms to the sky. Her skin shimmered green and she appeared to explode as a tail and wings erupted from her rapidly growing form. Scales and fins hardened in her loudly bubbling flesh. She thundered down onto all fours as the giant dragoness that had carried Wren’s family to the battle.

Laramis and Irodee, helped the mercenaries gather their wounded and mount the flying horses while the rest found their way onto the backs of the dragons.

Kegari turned to let King T’Evagduran, and his family onto her back. As she did so, Bannor noticed she was careful to put all of her weight on the pinned Loki, pivoting and grinding the god into the turf with a crunch. As she stepped away she gave the spot a smack with her tail for good measure. The dragon might not be able to kill the immortal, but it was certain he wouldn’t soon forget today.

With both his arms injured and unable to hold his weight, both Sarai and Daena had to help him onto Tymoril’s back, and strap him into the saddle.

“You thought that last ride was fun,” Sarai said, finishing the straps on Bannor and lashing herself in. “Now, you’re in for some real excitement. This time Tymoril will be in a hurry.”

Daena’s violet eyes dimmed and she shuddered. “I think I’m going to be ill.”

“Just do it down wind!” Sarai shouted as Tymoril launched in the air with a gut wrenching leap, and started pumping her wings toward the sky.

“Saraiii!” Bannor yelled. “That’s not funny!”

“It could be worse, my One, she could be in front of you. Yeaah!” Tymoril winged sharply to one side, as Idun rose beside them and turned abruptly.

The air flashed gold, shimmering like a heat illusion that winked out. At the same time, Bannor felt a surge of energy as the magic Idun had been blocking returned to normal. Both Daena and Sarai gasped.

“Oh yes, oh yes,” Sarai said doubling her fist in the reins. “Whoa that feels so much better!”

Daena gripped tighter around Bannor’s waist. “Oh—no. Hey, I thought Thor said leaving Odin’s stone behind would fool the Valkyries!”

Bannor glanced back and his stomach seemed to turn to stone. The sky behind them was black with winged figures all furiously thrashing the air in pursuit…

I learned quickly to hate Odin. His creations, the Bloodguard, are little better, they’re just oversized arrogant hatchet-women with bad haircuts.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 45
Draconian First One

« ^ »

The wind rushing in his face, Bannor clutched at Sarai’s middle, holding on as best he could with bandaged and broken arms. Though Irodee had done a good job setting the bones, the slightest pressure on them caused shooting pain. He glanced back to verify he wasn’t having a nightmare. Behind them, a red and black swath cut across the brilliant azure sky as dozens of crimson armored Bloodguard flew after them like a swarm of angry stinger-bugs. Over the rush of the wind, he caught the sound of a yelled curse and orders snapped in the ranks of those following. Tymoril made a bugling sound and angled down. The jagged terrain below slanted toward them as the dragon pulled her wings back for greater speed. Sarai looked over her shoulder checking on the enemy. She frowned, broad face tight, glowing eyes flashing like green stars. Behind him Daena held tight to his middle, grumbling about flying and dragons.

“At least they aren’t gaining on us,” Sarai said.

“Yes, but if we stop or slow down they’ll be all over us!” Daena yelled.

“My thoughts as well,” Bannor muttered. “Damn, where did Thor go?”

“He’s there,” Sarai pointed.

Bannor looked where she indicated and as Tymoril’s wing swung down, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a chariot being drawn through the air behind some kind of horned animals. The contraption left a trail of sparks as it hurtled through the sky. Thor held the reins, his russet braids and blood colored cloak trailing in the wind. His father Odin lay on the floor of the conveyance, apparently still unconscious.

“Where did that thing come from?”

“He’s a god,” Daena said. “Remember?”

He shook his head, realizing he should have learned by now not to ask silly questions. “Have to make sure they don’t catch him. If they get Odin back, this whole mess will start over.”

“I’m hearing that, my One,” Sarai agreed as Tymoril continued to dip toward the ground. “And exactly how do we manage that?”

As she finished her words, Kegari angled in from above them, the rest of Sarai’s family on her back. Janai and the Queen waved at them. King T’Evagduran raised his chin briefly, his gaze locking with Bannor’s for an instant. The smaller dragon’s scales shimmered in a rainbow of colors. The spikes on her back glowed a dull red and thin lines of flame trailed off them into the wind.

“It looks like the King and Kegari plan to flame them if they get too close.”

“It’ll only slow them down,” Sarai responded. “The Bloodguard are immortal too.”

Daena gripped Bannor’s shoulders and leaned forward. “No they’re not. The Chosen might be, but the Bloodguard are Odin’s creations.”

Sarai flipped her hand. “Same difference.”

“No. It’s n—ahhhk!” Daena let out a startled cry, fingers clamping on Bannor’s shoulders as Tymoril banked between two outcroppings of stone so fast they heard the rocks whistle past. The girl sucked a breath. Her voice cracked as she started again. “It’s probably why the Chosen resent them so much! The Bloodguard taunt them with it!”

Behind them, the leading pursuers fell further behind as they buffeted each other trying to go between, over and around the obstacles. Curses and obscenities stung the air as the dark-winged Valkyries jammed into the rocks and each other.

Sarai eyed the chaos behind them. Her tone turned sour and ragged. “Such pleasant diplomatic dispositions these ladies have. Why would anyone resent them?” She shook her head. “I admit it makes sense. Are all savants smart?”

“Not all of us,” Bannor said, struggling to be heard over the rushing wind. He leaned to keep his balance as Tymoril veered to stay between the rugged walls of a twisty valley. She swerved nimbly in the air, making turns that jammed them into the saddle with their abruptness.

Sarai threw an extra loop of the reins around her fist as they hissed around another tight turn. “Oh?”

A check on their pursuers showed that the dragon’s maneuvers were putting valuable space between them and the enemy.

“There’s me,” he laughed, and it made him ache inside. “Only an idiot would get into a mess like this. Hey, great flying Tymoril!” He called out.

The dragon made a pleased sounding noise in response to his compliment.

Sarai looked back, smiling at him with Daena’s broad face. “Foolish at times, my One, but I’d never consider marrying an idiot.”

Bannor let out breath. “Thanks—I think.”

Idun, now in the shape of giant green dragon swept in and took up a position on their right, her wings beating in unison with Tymoril’s. On her back, Vanidaar sat in the first seat of the three-place saddle red hair trailing in the wind. Euriel and Wren sat in the seats behind him. They both waved.

Kylie and Jhord, their flaming swords held out, accelerated into position at either of Idun’s wingtips. That appeared to be another difference between the Chosen and the Bloodguard. With their health restored, their two winged allies easily kept pace. Behind them, the Bloodguard were beating themselves up and going full out simply to keep them in sight.

Sarai leaned back so he could hear her clearly. “Wren is telling me through the flux stone that Idun wants to drop back to protect the others. They can’t keep this pace up.”

Bannor felt his stomach twist. His voice dropped. “Great.”

Still wing-to-wing they nosed up toward the sky, climbing out of the tight confines of the chasm walls. Leveling off, they continued out over flatter terrain scudded with trees and brambles. Gusts swirled below them kicking up the sharp smells of pollen and stone spice. He looked back and noticed the Valkyries were already eating up the lead.

The mercenaries riding on the winged horses shot past them, with Maac and Laramis in the lead, bow in hand and an arrow in her teeth Irodee brought up the rear, knees strapped into the horse’s saddle.

“One wrong move,” he muttered. “We’ll look like a test log at a wood chopping contest.”

“There’s an image I could have lived without,” Daena said behind him. She sniffed. “We just need to get those witches off our tails. Sarai, you think your body could handle me using my savant power?”

“Kalindinai said using magic was dangerous for the baby,” Bannor answered before Sarai could respond. “You might kill our child.”

“My One, there may—” Sarai said.

“No!” Bannor growled. “Not unless there’s no other choice.”

“Well we better do something—obviously Idun can’t use her powers in that form or she would have done something.”

Eyes narrowed against the rushing wind, bracing to keep himself steady in the saddle, Bannor focused on the enemy Valkyrie. He still felt drained and in pain from fighting with Odin. He used no magic in that battle, so he had that in reserve. They needed strong magic like the Garmtur to delay the Bloodguard. There were so many, he couldn’t tangle up their threads like he did to the gods.

He probed the sky with the Garmtur, seeking the threads of magic that allowed them to fly. A glance at Kylie and Jhord showed the magic that gave the Chosen flight ability was magnitudes stronger than the Bloodguard’s. He simply couldn’t do anything to them so widely dispersed—or could he?

“Daena, that ability of yours—you make things fly off when you break all the bonds of falling force on them—right?”

“Exactly. So?”

“Can you do it backwards? Make the falling force stronger on them?”

“Of course, but why would I—?” Her violet eyes widened. “Oh! Give them a surprise crash dive! That’d work! Want me to—”

“No! Show me how. If I know the threads of the magic, I can do it.”

“Bannor, there’s more to it than that!” Daena responded, voice tight with concern. “My ability may be similar to Wren’s—but it’s not the same. It’s far stronger and much harder to gauge. One slip and we’ll be the ones eating turf.” Tymoril growled and the fins on her head flattened. “We’d hit before you even knew it.”

He sensed she was correct. As he turned the power of the Garmtur to the sky behind them and the Valkyries that followed, he saw plenty of the magic that held them up, but no hint of what exerted the falling force on them. Even as he focused down to the more subtle threads in the environment, he saw nothing that might be such a powerful influence. He remembered seeing how Daena exerted a tiny bit of influence on metal objects. Even that didn’t have much in the way of threads associated with it. She wasn’t really connected to the metal—more it seemed bound to something around her. He didn’t have time for mysteries. They needed a trick to stop those Valkyries.

“Bannor we best do something soon,” Sarai said, turning in the saddle to him. “Wren’s telling me now that Idun is ready to turn and just try and do it the hard way.”

“Damn,” he growled. “I won’t risk our child. Daena, come into me like you did with Euriel. Use my energy.”

Sarai focused wide eyes on him. “My One? Use your energy?”

“Here?!” Daena let out. “Go astral while we’re on a dragon!”

“You’re strapped in. I won’t let Sarai’s body fall.”

“My One!” Sarai said louder. “What are you proposing she do?”

“She can overlap herself on someone else’s body, and use both her powers and theirs. I’ve seen her do it.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Daena said. “Just in case I’m leaving my link to Wren open so she and Idun know what’s going on just in case something strange happens.”

“I don’t like the sound of this, Bannor,” Sarai said in a tight voice.

“I don’t like it any more than either of you—but it has the best chance of working.”

“Okay,” Daena said. “Here I go.” She put her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. “Better tie my wrists—just in case.”

Bannor pulled off his belt and made sure her arms were secured around him. He felt Daena tense behind him and then relax. Apparently, having exchanged bodies with Sarai had not weakened the young Savant’s astral abilities because only heartbeats later the nebulous glow of her spirit form emerged from her body. The shining image glided up so that it was close to Bannor.

—At least I don’t feel sick when I fly like this,—he heard her say into his mind.—Overlap our powers in your body. That’s the plan, right?—

“It’ll work,” he said. “I’m sure it will.”

—I agree. You know you look pretty banged up right now—no point in risking killing you after Sarai and I went to all that trouble to keep you from dying. I’m changing the plan.—

“Changing? What..?”

—Don’t worry.—She paused.—Hey, dragon-lady, I know Bannor never introduced me—but right now—bigger is better. You’ve got the big. Your powers and mine combined. Let’s play.—

Tymoril’s scales flickered, and tension went through her mammoth body. She was obviously surprised by the girl’s proposal.

Bannor felt his body go icy. “Daena?”

The green dragon that was Idun let out a roar and a rumbling sound. Tymoril looked over at Idun. The larger dragon made another thunderous sound.

Tymoril stiffened and the fins on her head cocked forward. After a strained moment, she made a higher pitched burbling noise that Bannor recognized as assent to Daena.

—All right,—the young savant said into his mind.—Here I come.—Her image brightened, glowing so brilliant it hurt Bannor’s eyes. She dove into Tymoril’s side. Moments later the dragon faltered in the air and her scales shone as though illuminated within. She stopped flapping her wings and the massive creature writhed like a person trying wriggle into ill-fitting clothing. His throat tightened as Tymoril’s nose tilted toward the ground in an uncontrolled fall.

The whistle of the wind rose in pitch.

Bannor pulled tight around Sarai’s middle, and made sure Daena was still solidly strapped in. His chest tightened and his heard speeded as they rushed toward the ground. “I don’t think I like this plan!”

“Damn.” Sarai muttered. “Daena we’re in the frelling sky, you don’t have all day to acclimate! Open your blasted eyes!” She pulled her sword from its scabbard and smashed it against Tymoril’s armored back with a metallic peal.

They were running out of air fast, and Bannor braced for impact.

“Wake—” Her blade struck sparks from the hard scales. “Up!”

The last strike seemed to startle Tymoril back to life. She let out a roar of what could only be surprise, wheeling her wings and tail in frantic effort to get back under control.

“This is—” Bannor ducked his head against Sarai’s back. “going—to—” They slammed forward against their restraints as Tymoril skipped off the top of rock outcrop. “Hurt!”

As she had seen demonstrated a dozen times before, Tymoril had incredible powers of flight. Having Daena’s spirit form invade her body might have disoriented the giant creature, but it also seemed to have given her more strength.

After an impact that would have stunned any other creature, her wings became a hurricane blur, kicking up a storm of sand and rocks on the ground. With a cry of effort, she pulled her nose up and skipped across the surface. Wings booming through the air, she flattened trees and knocked house sized divots out of the shrub studded plain. With every impact, the huge lizard spat out sharp snarls that could only be draconian curses.

“Frell! Frell! FRELL!” Sarai burst out at each contact. “I’m going to strangle that girl!”

With a final roar of effort, Tymoril punched away from the ground and climbed a few hundred paces into the sky. Stretching out her wings and curving them to glide, the creature panted and gasped. Idun and Kegari had circled round dropped down on either side of her.

—This flying stuff is a lot harder than it looks,—Bannor heard in his head.

Tymoril snarled, and her scales flickered red.

“You almost killed Tymoril and us!” Sarai yelled.

“Are you all right!?” Sarai’s father yelled from Kegari’s back.

She waved back to him.

“Daena,” Bannor growled. “Next time you decide to change the plan—don’t!”

—Hey,—Daena thought to them sounding hurt.—It worked didn’t it? Isn’t like you haven’t succeeded by a thread before. We’re okay now.—

The dragon snorted.

“I’d still like to pound you for that trick,” Sarai said in a low voice.

—Well, to do that, Lady, you’ll have to give my body back won’t you?—Her mental tone turned acerbic.—Until then, just shut up with that kind of talk. I see through your deception now—you wanted me in your body. It took bouncing our head against a couple rocks to figure out why.—Tymoril looked back and made rumble low in her throat.

Bannor glanced along their course and saw the lead members of the Bloodguard were only a few stone-throws away. The Valkyries screamed battle cries as they streaked in.

Tymoril made a swatting motion with her tail. The dragon’s flesh didn’t make contact with any of the warrior women, in fact, they were still over fifty paces away. The result was the same though. A stunning crack filled the air as the four closest warriors erupted into shrieking balls of flame that fired back through the bunched ranks behind them.

Flesh and feathers exploded on impact. Bodies spiraled downward to make bloody craters on the landscape below.

Though barely a fraction of their number had actually been affected, the display was sufficient to slow the Valkyrie’s approach.

Bannor felt Daena grin in his mind.—Lots of good things come with having a body that manipulates the falling force as part of its mechanism for flight. Control comes to mind. That and she can channel way more energy than I ever could in that fragile human flesh. For instance—this much of the metal attraction energy would turn me to goo.—

Tymoril swung around and went into a hover facing the oncoming Valkyries. The dark winged women slowed their approach obviously more cautious now. It didn’t help them though. Even without the Garmtur, Bannor could see and feel the distortion that seemed to bend the air.

Abruptly, the closest Bloodguards slammed into one another and started to fall when they couldn’t flap their wings to stay aloft. Thrashing furiously the others were drawn downward with them, swords, daggers, metal objects shooting down to join the falling mass of bodies. Cursing and screaming, more than a dozen struggling Bloodguard slammed into the turf with a boom.

The young savant laughed in their minds.—That’s quite an attraction they have for each other, isn’t it?—

The remaining ranks came up short at seeing so many of their number brought down so fast. Tymoril flicked her tail, sending a half dozen more of the warrior women hissing off in different directions.

—Oh yes, I could get like this,—Daena cheered.—What a team, eh?—

Tymoril grunted. She let out a roar and launched a burst of flame from her mouth. The arc of burning residue detonated amongst the Bloodguard with a sound like a dozen thunderclaps. The ear-numbing blast scattered smoldering bodies in all directions, sending them spiraling out of the sky trailing smoke.

Tymoril flinched and the fins on her head flattened, even she seemed surprised the force of the attack.

—Whoa! I bet that’s some bad breath they won’t be forgetting soon.—

That seemed all the incentive the Bloodguard needed to turn and retreat. With their leaders down and nearly a fourth of their number knocked from the sky, it must have become obvious they’d never get close to the enemy.

Tymoril winged over and climbed higher in the sky. On either side of them, the members of their group were shaking their fists and yelling cheers of encouragement. Bannor breathed a sigh of relief and pressed his chest against Sarai’s back, unable to hug her properly. It turned out to be a good plan after all. They would be able to deliver Odin to court without further interference from the Bloodguard.

As the wind whistled through his hair and he held close to Sarai, his mind flicked back over Daena’s words. You wanted me in your body. In the short time he’d come to know, Daena. He’d discovered the girl had uncanny instincts.

He could understand Sarai wanting Daena’s body.

Why would she want Daena in hers?

Flying. I still have a love/hate relationship with it. I’m to the point it’s not so bad when I know the creature doing the flying. I understand that Wren has a friend who flies without any wings at all. I sure hope I don’t have to do that…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 46
The Flying Interlude

« ^ »

Cavort. Bannor had heard the word used, he knew what it meant, he simply never imagined himself ever seeing someone do it, much less ‘cavort’ himself. Prancing about was something faeries did—not woodsmen. He’d seen some drunken sailors whose addled antics came close—but that had been more capering than anything else. In reality, he wasn’t dancing now. Tymoril, however, was definitely in full cavort, or as close as a hundred tons of fire-breathing dragon came to it. Being along for the ride, he and Sarai had no choice but to participate. To her credit, the aerial acrobatics phased Sarai not in the least—she liked it—even laughed. Even being double strapped in the saddle made the experience no less white-knuckle for him. Flying was for creatures who possessed either feathers or wings—preferably both. His stomach lurched as Tymoril dipped through the bottom part of the third loop. The wind howled in his face, thin, icy-cold, and acrid sharp. He felt the weightless sensation as the scrub dotted plain rolled into view seemingly overhead. He gulped hard, feeling as if all the blood were draining out of his body as the dragon pitched over and yawed into another tight turn.

Cavort. From this day forward, he would always associate the word with an unsteady stomach.

After successfully repelling the Bloodguard, Tymoril and Daena went crazy—in Bannor’s estimation anyway. Any creature that committed such antics of flight was to his thinking, totally deranged. Somewhere in their brief encounter, Tymoril and Daena discovered that by sharing their powers, Tymoril’s already considerable flight capabilities increased by magnitudes. She could rise into the sky with breath-stealing speed without even moving her wings. When the massive draconian put her wings to work, Bannor could only liken it to the time he once consented to being catapulted over a wall during a siege. Another flying experience he hoped never to repeat.

Tymoril streaked out of the bottom of a long plummet, flicking out her wings and nosing up into shear climb that had Bannor’s ears popping like ale bubbles. The dragon’s scales flickered in a rainbow of colors and the fins on her head danced and vibrated with obvious enjoyment.

He saw the dragon look back at them with one of her huge shield-sized golden eyes. The corner of her toothy mouth quirked up in a draconian smile.

—She says you’re turning green again,—Daena said in his mind.

“Oh yes?” Bannor snapped, over the hiss of the wind. “Damn right I am! Enough is enough. You’re going to get us killed!”

—Am not,—Daena thought back reasonably.—Tymoril is teaching me to fly.—

Sarai laughed. “Daena, you don’t have any wings!”

Tymoril leveled off. After a moment, she folded her wings back. They continued level and straight as though suspended on a wire.

—Does it look like we need any wings?—

“So? What good does that do you?”

—She’s teaching me the control. I’m showing her how to get the energy. That’s all either of us needed. Wouldn’t it be wizard to fly without wings? There’s just this one little bit I’m having trouble with…

“Daena—no!” Bannor growled. “We’ve been all over the blasted sky. We will attract attention—the wrong kind. Not to mention that if there’s any more of this and I’ll vomit.” He drew a breath. “Learn to fly on your own time or learn it flying level and slow, preferably sticking with the others.”

—Bannor, you sound like somebody’s grandmother,—Daena complained.

“You also need to get back in my body,” Sarai said. “It shouldn’t be left untenanted this long.”

Bannor felt Daena frown.—Go back to it yourself. It’s where you belong.—

He saw the tips of Sarai’s ears redden. “You know I can’t do that.”

—I know nothing of the sort. In fact, I haven’t seen you try. I wonder what your mother would say if she knew we could have switched back any time.—

He frowned and leaned forward against Sarai. “Is that true?”

Sarai scowled back at him. “She’s just trying to make trouble.” She turned narrowed green eyes toward the dragon. “Daena, I’m asking nicely. Let’s say I recognize it as a favor.”

—Wonderful. Say ‘please’ and we have a deal.—

Sarai’s knuckles went white on the reins. He saw her jaw tense and her neck stiffen. Her throat muscles worked for a moment. “Please…” she growled. She drew a breath and said quietly over her shoulder. “Can’t you make her behave, Bannor?”

“Me? I have about as much control over her as I do you!”

She fixed him with an arch look, mouth pressed to a hard line.

Seeing the hard gaze, his brow furrowed. “What?!”

“Nevermind.”

Tymoril winged over, circling back toward the rest of their expedition who were only dots more than a league off. The dragon spread her wings and shudder went through her mammoth body. They lurched downward as if something holding them up had been jerked away. Apparently, prepared for this, Tymoril started stroking her wings and they continued on a level course.

Daena’s nebulous spirit form emerged from the dragon’s back and flowed toward them. She paused near Bannor and reached a hand toward him. The nearness of her essence made a crackling go along his skin, making the hairs on his neck stiffen.—You know,—she thought into his mind.—I never thanked you.—For what?—For opening the universe to me. I was scared out of my wits when Hella forced the union. I was so appalled I just wanted to kill myself—I just knew I was going to be a freak. In fact, I still am.—She hovered close.—I’m learning that’s not so bad—it’s the most freeing thing imaginable. I don’t think I would have realized that if you hadn’t cared enough to help me. Thank you.—He felt her wispy hand brush his cheek. Ghostly lips pressed against his neck with static hum that made the flesh all down his arms and legs prickle.

“Daena…” Sarai growled.

—Hey,—Daena thought back.—I’m you right now. I’m the one wearing his ring.—

“He gave the ring to me, not my body. Besides, you’ve got my sister—remember? She’ll keep you amused.”

—You’re right. She’s a lot more fun than you.—

“Hey,” Bannor said. “Both of you behave.”

Sarai snorted and focused her attention on where the dragon was flying. Daena floated back toward Sarai’s Elven body and vanished within. A moment later her eyes fluttered and she took a deeper breath. Her hands were still lashed around his waist to make sure wouldn’t fall during their maneuvers. She tugged against the bindings, then pressed her face between his shoulder blades.

“I seem to be tied up,” she said in his ear. She pulled her arms tight around him. “I don’t mind though.”

He frowned and fumbled at the leather straps. He felt so helpless. With his broken arms, even the simple matter of loosening knots became a painful ordeal. The least pressure applied the wrong way caused an excruciating shriek of pain as the shattered bone set by Irodee’s splints tried to shift. He gritted his teeth against the discomfort and finished untying her hands.

“Thank you,” she said, pulling her arms back and rubbing her wrists. He still couldn’t get used to Daena looking at him through violet eyes, silver hair dancing in the wind around angular elven features. That was Sarai’s face. He hoped it would soon again be. The whole idea that Sarai wanted Daena in her body boggled his mind. The thought made him shiver. He once traded bodies with Wren. That experience still troubled his sleep at times. For Sarai to encourage it must mean there must be some very tangible gain—but what? Daena apparently knew. Could it be so obvious that he was simply overlooking it? What possible benefit would there be to Daena being in her flesh?

Tymoril became far stronger when merged with Daena. So—Sarai’s body would be stronger too. That was only a temporary advantage on any account, aside from the fact Sarai was in a separate body—so there could be no combining of powers. There must be a more enduring effect he couldn’t see. Sarai had said to Daena that she would consider it a “favor”. His life had truly become strange when people he knew considered the theft of their body an act of largess.

The girl leaned forward and pressed against him, putting her hands on his shoulders. She felt hot, but the fingers that brushed his neck were cool and dry. “I’m sorry,” she said low, her voice pitched so only he could hear. “I shouldn’t antagonize Sarai. I can’t help it. I’m jealous of what she has.”

“Daena,” he whispered. “Don’t be in such a hurry. I know you feel alone and that no-one else will understand you, but someone will—I promise. You were a special person before Hella changed you. That’s still true. The right someone will recognize that and never let you go.”

“Thanks, Bannor.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled. “You know, for someone who spends most of their time in the woods, you certainly are a romantic.”

“That’s what Sarai is always telling me. She thinks I’m hopeless.”

Daena snorted. “Don’t let her fool you. It’s why she loves you. She just doesn’t want you to change.”

Bannor pressed his cheek against her knuckles, unable to bend his arm to pat her hand. At her core, Daena was a good person, she was simply wrapped in rough kid exterior, and influenced by the far more frightening specter of Hella. The words that the goddess spoke with Daena’s lips before the battle showed her persona still lived somewhere deep in the girl’s psyche. They had fused in some way. Stress, anger and need, seemed to bring the goddess out of hiding. At times, Daena seemed to possess Hella’s knowledge, at other times not. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for the girl. After all, he led Hella to her and stood by while the goddess forced the merger that joined their alpha and beta halves into a single entity.

Nothing could separate Hella from her now. Until recently, she resented the transformation and thought of herself as a monster. That self-dislike was giving way to an appreciation of the glories of having the powers of an immortal. While he didn’t want her to hate herself, she came into the power too quickly for his comfort. In a span of only days, she’d demonstrated incredible abilities. He felt certain that they’d only seen a tiny fraction of her full potential. When that full power was realized, who or what could control her? He’d asked himself this question before and was left with the same answer. Only Daena’s conscience and regard for life would control her. One thing was certain. Here in Gladshiem with its blood-thirsty and callous gods, she wouldn’t encounter many suitable role-models.

Tymoril banked into a tight turn, circling around so as to come up between Idun and Kegari, who were flying above the rank of pegasai-riding mercenaries. Wings shining brightly, the horses galloped through the sky as though pounding down a desert trail. Instead of raising a plume of dust, they caused a faint mist that sparkled like shiny jeweler’s powder blown in the wind. He noticed that Kylie and Jhord must have tired of flying because the two air maidens now rode on one of the spare pegasai.

Slightly ahead of the pegasai, Thor’s chariot sparked and flamed. The Thundergod seemed completely intent on his flying, his whole attention focused on where he was going.

Queen Kalindinai scowled at them from her seat behind the King. Even with them beyond the considerable span of Kegari and Tymoril’s wings he could tell neither T’Evagduran or his wife were happy. “Sarai! Bannor!” Kalindinai hollered with surprising volume. “What’s gotten into you two! Taking off like that!”

Without even a glance at each other, both Bannor and Sarai turned and pointed at Daena. Even Tymoril turned her draconian head and looked at the young woman.

Daena widened violet eyes and put a hand to her chest. “What?!”

The Queen rocked her head back looking as though in pain. Apparently, that was enough of an explanation for her. Bannor noticed that Janai nodded to Daena and made a series of finger patterns that he didn’t understand the meaning of. Apparently, Deana must have because she laughed. Sarai snorted.

He leaned forward. “What did she tell Daena?”

“My troublemaker sister likened it to sneaking out to take a gallop on the family’s race horse.”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

“That’s my sister’s way of looking at everything,” Sarai growled. “Everything is a jest to her.”

He put his arms around her, leaning forward to put his chin on her shoulder. “She takes her love seriously, and she cares about you and your parents.”

“Hmph,” Sarai grumbled. “Maybe. She’s still annoying though.”

“Annoying or not, she’s been your sister for several centuries. If we live through this mess, she’ll probably keep being your sister for several more. I don’t think she’s going to change if she hasn’t already. Why can’t you just accept her the way she is?”

“Because she’s a damned frelling spoiled cheat, that’s why. Ever since I was old enough to draw a bow, she’s made a sport of humiliating me! I hate it.”

Bannor sighed. “I had an older brother, Sarai, and an older sister too. They both had great sport at my expense. It’s teasing. If you make a ruckus over their fun, it encourages them to do it again. The way to stop the teasing is to stop being a target. Sarai, you’re four centuries old, I can’t believe you don’t understand that she thinks your lady-of-stone façade is funny.”

“Bannor—it’s not a façade. It’s how I am.”

“Maybe so, Milove, but by getting angry you’re just giving her what she wants. As long as you get mad, she’ll always get the satisfaction of having bested you.”

She growled. “My One, I’ve heard this lecture before, okay?”

“Your older sister, Ryelle, right? She seems to have made a career of trying to make peace between you and everybody. You know, I’m learning you’re at war with the world.”

She sniffed. “Keep pestering me about it and you and I will have a fight. Let’s worry about how we take care of Odin, and get back home. When we’re back in the castle under the same roof, we’ll see how sympathetic you are after you’ve been the made the clod for her amusement a couple dozen times.”

Bannor shook his head. He wasn’t about to mention he was an unlikely target for Janai’s kind of fun. Her kind of trickster didn’t get any amusement from picking on a buffoon. What Sarai refused to see is that she and her sister were very much alike. They just put a different face on their feelings. They were both competitive and had an ingrained dislike of authority. Sarai just happened to be open and haughty in her defiance. That puffed up hauteur was the perfect foil for a bored older sister with little better to do than think up ways to annoy her younger sibling. Still, there were aspects to this battle he didn’t understand completely. Sarai couldn’t possibly have been Janai’s this dupe this long. In fact, after this many centuries, Janai would probably have gotten tired of it if there weren’t more to it. As usual it was another problem he didn’t know enough about.

Best to simply stay quiet. He was tired and hurt. After a while, all the landscape began to look the same. The wind blowing in his hair, and Sarai’s warm back to press against were relaxing after he forgot they were half a league up in the sky.

~*~

He didn’t recall falling asleep, but his neck was aching when he was startled awake by Sarai’s voice. “We’re coming up on Asgard.”

Bannor blinked, realizing that it was now night-time, and brilliant stars blazed against and ebony background cut through with swaths of violet and blue. Ahead of them, peaks cut across the landscape like rows of sharp teeth. Beyond them was a golden glow. Dozens of shafts of light sliced upward through the night like the blades of swords.

As he watched, specks flicked through the lights, illuminated briefly by the radiance. Despite the distance, the silhouettes were distinct. Winged humanoids—Valkyries. As they crossed the top of the mountains the figures passing through the lights became more recognizable, as did the color of their wings—black.

Bloodguard.

Ahead of them the night came alive with movement as dozens of figures flew up to meet them.

Sarai drew a breath. “Looks like we were expected.”

Dragons, I never in my wildest dreams ever thought I would end up liking one. I certainly never thought I would end up with two being infatuated with me. One thing about having a dragon that really likes you—it sure helps in a pinch.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 47
Assault On Asgard

« ^ »

With the golden majesty of Asgard’s domes and pinnacles shining into the night less than a thousand paces away, Bannor watched as an entire army of Odin’s Bloodguard rose from the battlements swords bared for battle. With his arms little more than useless hunks of meat hanging from his shoulders, he could only stare with stomach churning dread as the powerful force flew toward them.

“Lords,” he gasped. “Doesn’t anyone in this damned land ever negotiate?!” He knew it was a rhetorical question, but his frustration demanded voicing.

“Talking people to death takes too long,” Sarai said, swinging the reins hard over. Tymoril folded her wings and dove.

“I’ll take nasty words over a sharp sword any day,” Daena murmured. “Damn, there’s a lot of them!”

Bannor’s stomach felt as if it rose into his throat as Tymoril plummeted. The wind whistled in his ears and strands of Sarai’s auburn hair whipped in his face. The shadowy landscape rushed up at them with breath stealing speed; the details of gullies, rocks, and trees growing larger with each thump of his pounding heart. He hugged his mate tight, unable to grip anything adequately to hold on.

Behind them, he heard Elven war cries. He glanced back and saw Kegari and Idun in close pursuit. The mercenaries on their pegasai and Thor had angled off into a steep descent.

With mere paces to spare, Tymoril pulled out. Skimming a pace above the surface, she streaked over the landscape at a speed Bannor guessed close to ten times the speed of a galloping horse. He narrowed his watering eyes against the icy wind shrieking in their faces.

Some of the Bloodguard who had not risen too high in the sky tried to intercept them, but the Draconian was ready to meet their charge. Hurtling along, she dipped up and rolled upside down. Slashing with sword-sized talons she ripped through a half-dozen of the Valkyrie’s that had been aiming to slash at her wings with their weapons. The guardians went spinning into the ground in a screaming flurry of feathers, torn fabric and leather.

Tymoril’s swift incision into the defenses cleared the way for Thor, Idun, Kegari and the others. Lightning cracked out from the backs of Idun and Kegari as Euriel and Kalindinai put their magic into play, knocking back groups of Bloodguard heading to intercept them. As powerful as those bolts were, they did little more than anger Odin’s powerful guardians.

A crimson streak howled out from between Kegari and Idun, smashing into a knot of the Guardians with a horrific roar of thunder. The bolt rebounded in shower sparks and flame arcing back between the two dragons and into the upraised hand of Thor. Mjolnir, the great war mallet sparked and flashed, blue bolts of lightning sparking from its glowing head.

Tymoril banked hard to skim along Asgard’s outer bastion. The gleaming golden stone radiated an icy chill that made Bannor’s back tingle. As they climbed along the periphery, coming level with the battlements, the cold became a palpable burning that made his breath lock in his chest. The closer they approached the stronger the effect became. Puffing for air and snarling in discomfort, Tymoril gave up and looped back toward Idun and Kegari.

“Ugh!” Sarai gasped. “What the frell was that?”

“Must be some magical defense,” Deana called.

Tymoril hugged in her wings and rolled to avoid colliding with the rest the group still closing on the walls. Bannor saw the surprised looks on T’Evagduran and Vanidaar’s faces, as well as the shocked widening of Kegari and Idun’s eyes. He heard Thor bellow something that was lost in the rush of wind as they hurtled past the Thunderlord and squad of mercenaries trailing behind him.

Irodee who was flying rear guard raised her bow and gave out a war cry as they whistled past. Tymoril snapped into another hard turn, twisting her wings to brake her speed. The dragon nosed up a bit and moved in a weaving zigzag course to make it hard for enemies to target them. The air filled with the yells of Bloodguard defenders still rushing to bring them down.

Kegari and Idun approached the wall and also attempted fly over, they saw the two huge creatures stiffen in the cold and eventually veer off when the chill radiated by the stone became too much.

Turned back by the wall, the two dragons focused their attention on the score of Bloodguard that had come within range. The spikes on their backs flared red, then flashed white hot, as the two dragons belched forth roaring streams of flame that they spewed into the faces of their attackers.

Euriel, Vanidaar, Kalindinai, and surprisingly—Janai, began a magical barrage of lightning, black-blasts, and shatter-spheres trying to keep the attacking forces at bay. It quickly became evident that the truth of whether or not the Bloodguard were true immortals was moot. Odin’s magically created maidens proved tough enough for it not to matter. Even serious wounds showed signs of healing in a space of moments. The winged creatures showed signs of stirring after falls that would turn a mortal to little more than a blood stain on the rocky ground.

Kylie and Jhord stayed close on Idun’s wings, flaming swords readied should attackers break through the defensive perimeter established by the magic and blasts of dragon-fire.

With a roar that shook the walls of Asgard, Thor flew between the two dragons brandishing Mjolnir overhead. “All who stand in the path of the true son of Asgard shall be branded traitors! Drop your weapons and make way!”

The Bloodguard who did not immediately part were smashed out of the way by a ferocious heave of Mjolnir that sent bodies hurtling for a hundred paces. “Do not make me demand what is mine by right again. Open the gates—NOW!”

Bannor shook his head. “We better back off, we’ve got too many people to defend and they don’t look ready to give in.”

With amazing swiftness, Bannor’s fears became reality as a handful Bloodguard Valkyries evaded the defensive magics and plunged into the soft middle of the group’s defenses. His heart seized as he saw Laramis, Irodee, and two other mercenaries slammed off their mounts and topple toward the ground. Both the Justicar and his Myrmigyne wife wrestled with their opponents, spiraling into impacts from two hundred paces in the sky. Daena and Sarai jerked, a blue shimmering shooting across their skin as the energy of the long drop was dispersed across everyone linked to Wren through their flux stones.

The two men from Maac’s squad of half-giant mercenaries didn’t have the benefit of such magical protection and hit the ground with bone shattering finality. Bannor closed his eyes and shuddered. He barely knew the names of those men, but they had been reliable and stalwart allies in this venture.

“Sarai!”

“I saw—and felt—ouch. Tymoril. Go!”

The dragon snorted and shook her head but angled down anyway. Bannor understood the Draconian’s fears. On the ground, they became far more vulnerable.

The battle with Odin’s jury hadn’t drained anyone as much as Idun planned, so both Laramis and Irodee still had considerable energy left from Idun’s fruit. The Bloodguard discovered they had picked stronger opponents than they expected, the two humans were not only uninjured by the fall, but also started swinging back with immortal strength.

Even a hundred paces up, Bannor heard the peel of Laramis’ sword as it cleared the sheath. Even as a mortal, Laramis possessed startling speed and stamina. In the war on Titaan, many of Hecate’s demons died with the Justicar’s sword through their brain before they could raise a claw. The Valkyrie faced the same man, now five times stronger and faster, with Wren’s Kel’Varan Nola blunting every attack directed at him. The Bloodguard found out to her very loud dismay that she had grabbed a griffon by the tail.

Tymoril’s size made finding a landing spot difficult, and she couldn’t hover without causing a hurricane on the ground. It forced her to circle to a clear section of ground.

Meanwhile, a blue streak dove off Idun’s back to slam into the turf in an explosion of dirt and dust. Sarai and Daena winced again. It must have been Wren. The blonde Savant wouldn’t let her Myrmigyne companion fight the Bloodguard alone for long.

In the moments it took Tymoril to find a landing spot, the battle had already taken shape. Laramis and Irodee retreated from their opponents into close quarters getting back-to-back to receive the enemy. The Valkyries had pursued them, apparently thinking that the two warriors lacked the courage to stand and fight.

That’s when the blood started to flow. Laramis had ripped his opponent twice by the time Wren sprinted into the fray. Irodee apparently lost her spear in the fall, but fought on bare-handed. Being the same size as the Bloodguard Valkyrie, she had the mass and strength to land explosive blows that stunned her foe long enough for her to pull one of Laramis’ spare swords from its sheath.

Bannor, Sarai, and Daena leaped off Tymoril and started toward the fight. Without the ability to wield a weapon, he pushed himself into the concentration of the Garmtur viewing the battle as a haze of life threads, magic, and elemental power. He hoped he didn’t have to use the Garmtur, it seemed like practically every time it was used in battle something unexpected and dreadful happened.

More than a dozen Bloodguard had already converged on Laramis and his wife. The black-winged warriors showed no compunction against ganging up on the two fighters. The duo were quickly overwhelmed, bloodied and battered they gave ground trying to keep from being surrounded and shredded by superior numbers and maneuverability. Right then, Wren jumped into the fray. The blonde savant moved with the speed of a death sprite. She leaped onto the backs of two Bloodguard, daggers flashing. Even as those opponents clawed at the weapons lodged in their necks, her throwing daggers were flashing out at other enemies, finding spines, ear holes, and eye sockets. Wren whipped through the Bloodguard using hands and feet, elbows and knees, finding the vitals of everything that came within range. In ten heartbeats, a dozen screaming Valkyries writhed and bled in the dirt.

“Oh whoa!” Daena let out. “I was picking a fight with her?”

“Yes, she talks tough because she is.”

“Little blonde show off,” Sarai muttered, she looked back to Daena. “Give me my bow.”

Daena unshouldered the bow and handed it and the quiver of arrows to her.

“Better start fighting,” Sarai advised slipping the quiver over her shoulder. She pushed her hair back, and started firing arrows. “Less talk, more fight. Enemies on the right and left.”

“With a sword?” Daena said frowning. “Bannor, do me a favor and point over there at that big group of witches.”

“Point?” he asked, raising his arm. “What will that—”

Daena clapped him on the shoulder and he felt the Garmtur twist in his mind. He gasped as his body went icy. Threads spun around his chest then spiraled down his arm in a wave that made a blast of air hiss around him. All along the path where he pointed, elemental threads lined up and the air wavered as though distorted by heat ripples. Like wind behind a weakened window, the pattern shattered. In his mind, he experienced the release of energy like a crack of a whip—sudden and intense. In that flash, a dozen warriors shot straight into the sky in a fiery screech.

He staggered. Abruptly dizzy from the energy loss. “Ugh. Hey, warn me would you!”

“You wanted me to use your energy. So, I did.”

“Hey!” Sarai snapped, dropping her aim and booting Daena in the rear. “Be careful, damn it! He’s hurt enough already!”

“I’m okay, Sarai,” he said, still shaking his head. “She just surprised me.”

“Good,” Sarai said, staring at Daena with narrowed green eyes. “I don’t want to have to kick my own arse.”

“You better watch this arse,” Daena grumbled rubbing her butt. “You’re going to be the one sitting on the bruises! Whoa—down!” Daena grabbed both Bannor and Sarai, pulling all three of them flat as something hissed through the air over their backs. Bannor caught a glimpse of flaming metal and a winged figure that arced back into the sky.

“Frell!” Sarai jumped back to her feet, and pulled Bannor up. “We have to get out of here, before we’re up to our armpits in Valkyries!”

A roar resounded behind them and they turned in time to see Tymoril spin around. Fifteen paces of spiked steel-hard tail cracked around like a whip. The swing met two Bloodguard in the air with a meaty whack that sounded like a butcher’s mattock slamming down on block full of soup gristle. Bannor staggered back as a hot spray caught him in the face at the same time two humanoid projectiles howled overhead. The bodies caromed off a nearby hill and out of the glow of Asgard’s walls. A rain of black feathers drifted down around them.

He spat out the coppery sour liquid that had invaded his mouth. Nothing about these black winged Valkyrie’s was palatable. Even their blood tasted rank. A fetid smell swirled through the air. He’d seen a lot of grisly things recently, but this combination made his stomach churn.

“Oh gick!” Daena flailed around, flinging off crimson fluid, and bits of green and brown gore.

“Yeauk!” Sarai cursed, wiping at her blood drenched face. “She knocked those two right out of their feathers!”

“Methinks yon dragon knocked them into the next season,” Laramis boomed. Both and he and Irodee staggered up each with an arm around Wren. The Justicar’s shiny armor looked like remnants of a jousting dummy after a tournament. The man’s dark hair was matted with blood and his broad face glistened with sweat. Blood oozed from cuts all over his torso and arms. Giant Irodee, looked only marginally better, her dark hair had come loose from its braid, and her face looked as if it had been raked by dirty fingernails. Even Wren, who never seemed to get injured sported cuts and bruises.

“Hie us away from here, I’ve no liking for the welcoming these creatures throw, nor for their sense of honor.”

“Everyone watch yourselves, I withdrew my protection,” Wren told them. “I’ve got only enough strength to keep the mages protected now. Hopefully they can get us inside the city.”

Tymoril thundered up behind them head lowered and wings cocked forward. Smoke curled from her nostrils and sparks crackled along the spikes on her back. She snorted and urged them ahead toward the main gates of the city.

Ahead of them, the sky flashed and boomed as Thor, Idun, and the remainder of their group lashed out at the Valkyries that swarmed around them like bloodsucker bugs. For every two that got knocked out of the sky, it seemed like three more took their place. It was only a matter of time before their defenses caved it. It seemed the Bloodguard had lost interest in them on the ground, focusing all their strength on the resistance surrounding the two gods.

“Why aren’t they breaking off!? Odin has this place secured!” Sarai wanted to know. “We can’t beat all these Valkyries!”

“Both Thor and my grandmother have loyalists inside,” Wren answered. “If we can either get in to them, or get them out to us we’ll have enough allies to put boot out the Bloodguard.”

The end of Wren’s words were punctuated by a massive crash, as the something erupted against the gates. The giant metal valves looked untouched by the powerful impact.

“I think Thor is getting desperate,” Daena said.

“For all the good it’s doing him,” Bannor said. “I can see the threads from here. That wall has enough magical energy to keep him and dozen like him out. It will never be broken with force.”

“Then what it needs is a lady’s touch,” Daena said. “Metal, if you hadn’t noticed, is my specialty.”

“It isn’t when you’re in Sarai’s body,” Bannor said. He looked to his mate. “If you can switch back, now would be a good time. We need her ability.”

“Bannor, she hasn’t—”

“Hasn’t what?”

“Damn it, she needs stay my body a while longer. It’s not complete yet!”

“What isn’t complete?”

“Sarai, if we don’t get through that wall, we may all die,” Bannor said in a low voice. “Your parents and Janai are up there.”

Sarai gritted her teeth. “Damn it. All right, let’s do it.” She walked over and grabbed Daena’s shoulder.

“Hey, I get my body back. This one was starting to feel queasy in the stomach anyway.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’re also putting on weight.”

Sarai scowled. “Get out of there.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” Her violet eyes rolled up. Both Bannor and Sarai had to catch her body to keep it from tumbling to the ground. Daena’s misty essence hovered slightly overhead.—Oh. Sorry.—

“I bet,” Sarai grumbled, lowering her elven shape to a sitting position on the ground. She knelt and draped her arms around the body that Daena had vacated and lowered her face until her forehead was resting on its shoulder. After a moment, both bodies stiffened. A golden sheen flickered across the smooth hairless skin of Daena’s auburn-haired form, the light concentrated where the two women touched then spread down onto Sarai’s elven body. Her fingers twitched and she drew a deeper breath. Her eyes fluttered, and then she raised her head.

“I’m back,” she murmured, gazing up at him with wide violet eyes.

“Yes, you are,” Bannor smiled and kissed her.

Another boom shook the air, reinforcing the urgency of their situation.

Daena drew a breath. She opened glowing green eyes and flicked away a few strands of Sarai’s silvery hair that had clung to her skin. “I’m back too,” she cooed. “Do I get a kiss?”

Sarai looked around at her. “Get the gates open, Darling, and I’ll kiss you.”

Daena smiled. “Not exactly what I was looking for—but I’ll take it.”

“Are you guys done?” Wren growled. “Damn, the whole place is coming apart and you act like nothing is happening.”

“Lady Wren,” Laramis said, hopping from one leg to the other and favoring his injured side. “I don’t recall when things weren’t…”

He stopped as a long low thrumming echoed through the valley. The sound rose and fell, vibrating the rocks and dirt underfoot.

“Sounds like horns,” Bannor said.

Daena looked over and her eyes gleamed with a crimson glow. Her voice echoed. “Not just any horns. The horns of the hunt. Those already dead have come to join the fray.”

Bannor has the most gallant heart anyone I have ever met, it is part of why I love him. However, his fashion sense leaves a great deal to be desired…

—Arminwen Sarai T’Evagduran

Third Princess of Malan

Chapter 48
Hel’s Mistress Strikes

« ^ »

The five of them froze, listening to the sound of horns wailing in the distance. The eerie droning sound made the skin prickle like fingernails raked across a slate. The rumble of Thor’s hammer crashing against the front gates of Asgard broke over the noise, filling the night with a blaze of red and orange halos of explosive radiance. A chilly gust of air reinforced the already strong smells of ash, charred flesh, and bile. Odin’s Valkyries continued to scream and attack, and Kegari and Idun countered with roars and blasts of dragon-flame. Lightning and shatter-spheres continued to pound the attackers, but it was clear from the waning intensity of the strikes that the mages were tiring—quickly consuming the last of the power imbued upon them by Idun’s fruit. A dozen, two dozen, maybe even five score of the Bloodguard that elite cast might have handled, but they warred with perhaps ten times that number.

On the ground, more than five hundred paces away they paused as Daena’s body stiffened and flames appeared to ignite in her eyes. She grabbed the sword on her side and pulled the blade free with a rasp of metal on metal. Tossing her auburn hair, she looked south with gritted teeth. She appeared unaware of anyone around her, or what they had been doing only instants ago.

Her voice sounded hollow and metallic. The low tones made Bannor’s skin itch. “Cerberus brings those already dead to join in the battle. I left no sanction to side with Odin or to command my minions.” She drew a breath, fingers loosening and tightening on her weapon. “He shall learn the folly of usurping what was not given!” She started toward the sound.

“Daena!” Bannor grabbed her shoulder.

The young savant whirled on him. Sarai and Wren moved to stop her but she moved with dazzling speed. “Want you to die along with Cerberus?”

Sparks crackled around her hand. Her nails hovered only a breath from Bannor’s face. He felt his hair standing on end from the power sparking from her fingertips.

He swallowed, staring into her flaming eyes. “Daena, the gates—remember?”

Her brow furrowed. She winced as Thor’s hammer crashed against Asgard’s defenses again. She rolled her shoulders and her head listed to one side as she gazed up at the aerial fray. “What transpires here? I—” She pulled her hand away from Bannor and felt her head. After a moment, she drew another deeper breath and smiled. “I live. So, Odin failed to kill us.” Daena cringed as another shock reverberated across the field. She glared in the direction of the city. “Why does that simpleton insist on punishing our ears with that futile display?”

“Look around you,” Sarai snapped. “We have to get in or Odin’s Bloodguard will mob us. A moment ago you told us you could open the gates.”

“Did I?” She raised an eyebrow. “I—” She paused. “What’s this I feel?” She touched between her breasts, and her fingers glowed.

Wren gasped, rising up to her toes. “Hey!”

Sarai, then Laramis and Irodee all lurched.

“My but we are a trusting group,” she grinned. Another blast rocked the field and Daena put a hand to her temple. She scowled. “I suppose the only way I shall have the luxury of being able to think is if I open that gate. It is a certainty I shall get no peace while that oaf keeps pounding away. Hie us to it.” She leaned into a jog toward the city before anyone could stop her.

Sarai and Wren quickly helped Laramis and Irodee onto Tymoril’s back, then joined Bannor is pursuit of the young savant.

“What in Hades is going on, Bannor?” Wren wanted to know running along beside him.

“I don’t know,” he said shaking his head. “Hella has manifested before, but never this completely.”

“Bannor,” Wren said, voice dropping. “We don’t want her controlling the full power of a first one. I don’t want to even think…”

“Oh right, and how do you plan to take it away from her?” Sarai said. “Slap her hand and say ‘bad girl’? Maybe you didn’t feel what she just did!”

“I felt it. If she turns on us, those Bloodguard are the least of our worries.”

“Just don’t antagonize her,” Bannor told them. “Hella was never our enemy. She only did what Odin told her to do.”

“That’s her story,” Wren growled. “You weren’t her prisoner. She enjoyed taking me apart a bit too much for me to believe that.”

As they neared the walls, the Valkyries who had been ignoring them gained a renewed interest and several broke off from their attacks on Idun and Thor. Having started moving a long breath ahead of them, a gap of close to three hundred paces had opened between them and Daena. The young savant was isolated as a dozen Bloodguard dove on her.

Bannor yelled a warning, but in a battlefield so overwhelmed by war magic, the sound would have been lucky to be heard thirty paces away much less three hundred.

Daena seemed oblivious to her peril even when the winged warriors were screaming down on her. Bannor winced, certain several flaming swords would find a mark on oblivious woman.

He blinked. Not a single weapon struck her. The Valkyries paused in the air and spun around, obviously surprised as well. They couldn’t have missed.

In the distance, the eerie sound of the horns continued to wail, now growing in volume. Though the Valkyries hadn’t gotten her attention, the wailing caused her pause and look.

The Bloodguard took the pause as an opportunity to make another pass. Daena made no defensive move, but the blades appeared to bend as they passed. The Valkyries screamed in frustration as Daena walked away not even acknowledging their existence.

“What in Hades is she doing?” Wren yelled.

“Whatever it is, I want to learn that trick!” Sarai said.

“We better hurry before they just decide to pile on her!” Despite the pain of his injuries, he pushed himself to run faster. Even the length of a breath was long time in a battle like this. He glanced back and saw Tymoril pounding along in their wake, apparently choosing to stay on the ground. Laramis and Irodee hung on, weapons ready, still able to fight but slowed by their wounds. Like the Valkyries, their injuries would heal quickly—for as long as Idun’s magic held out.

The walls of Asgard loomed huge and golden in front of them. Idun, Kegari, and Thor, flew in a tight pattern, jousting with the Valkyries. The field beneath them was a crater-pocked morass of blood-soaked mud, crumpled bodies, and burning vegetation.

They were less than twenty paces behind Daena when the Valkyries having made their fourth failed attempt to even gain the young Savant’s attention, landed directly in front of her.

With three paces and thirty stone of angry Valkyrie poised and glaring in her path, Daena paused. Eight others slammed down on either side of the first and three more behind her.

“Oh spit,” Wren moaned. She pulled out her daggers. “Didn’t we just do this scenario?”

Though she was surrounded, Daena looked not at all concerned. In his mind, Bannor corrected himself, caught alone Daena probably would have soiled herself when so confronted. Hella could challenge Odin and the entire jury without flinching, she possessed the ultimate confidence of a warrior with millenniums of experience.

“Get out of my way, child,” Daena rasped to the lead Bloodguard. “Don’t make me spank you.”

“Spank?” The Valkyrie raged. She plunged her weapon straight toward the girl’s chest.

The flaming metal struck the unmoving woman right above the heart and bent as though made of reed rather than steel. Daena slapped the weapon out of the surprised attacker’s hands. “Odin made you, Child. I own you. Though I do not look as I did, do not doubt I am the dark mistress and maker of your weapons. Begone!”

“Hella is dead!”

“Must I educate everyone?!” Daena roared. Her auburn hair turned to flame and a black aura surrounded her limbs. “I am the mistress of Hel—and Hel is eternal!”

“Uh oh,” Wren breathed. “I don’t think that Valkyrie should have said that.”

Daena grabbed the Bloodguard and despite the much larger creature’s resistance, hurled her like a spear at the gates. Though the force was only fractions the power that Thor had been laying against the wall, the impact caused the gates to shudder and swing inward.

All the fighting in the sky abruptly halted as the Valkyries realized the seal had been broken.

“Traitor!” The Bloodguards screamed and all lunged at Daena.

Hella’s confidence against a few of Odin’s creatures proved well warranted. The first few never even touched her before she laid them out or drove them spinning into distance with kicks or punches. The Bloodguard simply piled on. In the few heartbeats it took Daena to defeat six, a score more had joined the fray. As Hella, Daena had tremendous magic, but the Bloodguard knew how to keep her from using it. Every time she tried to concentrate to bring her energy to bear they slammed, shoved, hit or smothered her to break the woman’s focus. Apparently word traveled fast, none of them used the flaming swords. They picked up rocks, logs, or any other crude implement and swung away … Daena careened around in their midst like a loose ball in court challenge. She lashed out and scored on her opponents, but for every one she dropped she took a punishing hit in return. In a matter of instants, the young savant was bleeding from a dozen wounds, battered and muddy.

“Now, she needs help,” Wren blew out her cheeks, pulled out her daggers, and rushed forward. “Here we go…”

“Now, she’ll need a healer… Ow.” Sarai shook her head. “Guess we have to help the arrogant fool. She did open the gate.”

Above them, Thor and the others maneuvered to take advantage of the breach in Odin’s defenses. The Bloodguard tried to block them, but a wall of bodies simply wasn’t effective against the Thundergod. He cleared them from his path with a single throw of Mjolnir. Valkyries hanging off them trying to prevent their entry through the gates, the Idun and Kegari dove behind Thor.

The son of Odin smashed the gate the rest of the way open. Through the opening a torrent of howling warriors and white-winged Valkyries spilled onto the field.

In the meantime, the situation around Daena grew dire. Weapons out, Sarai and Wren had engaged the young savant’s opponents. The new odds only brought more of Odin’s minions into the conflict. Seeing at least a score more of the winged enemy closing in, Bannor gritted his teeth and called on the Garmtur. With life threads like traces burning in his mind, he started grabbing and pulling. Each plexus of magic he yanked, brought down an enemy Bloodguard. As each one fell, the backlash hit him in the chest like a fist. There were so damn many, and they just kept coming.

Irodee and Laramis jumped off Tymoril and charged into the fray. After twenty were down, Bannor had to stop and gasp for breath. The creatures were tough and even through the power of the threads they put up a strong resistance.

He hated standing back in a fight like this, but not only was he unable to hold a weapon, these creatures were far too strong for him to engage in a mass mêlée. He simply didn’t have the strength to hurt them, nor the stamina to last long enough to find a critical opening.

His gaze followed Sarai. Much as Wren grated on the princess’ sensibilities, she kept close to the blonde savant. Sarai might not like her, but she obviously had grown to trust the woman and her abilities.

Bannor’s heart jumped as an enemy leaped toward Sarai’s undefended back. Without thinking, he grabbed the creature’s threads and yanked it away. The burst of counter-magic slammed him between the eyes and he staggered back vision going blurry. His heart pounded and it felt like a fist gripped his lungs.

Sarai had spun in time to see her opponent knocked away. Her violet eyes found his, and he raised his fist to salute her. She grinned and mouthed the words ‘love you’ before her attention was drawn back to the battle.

Standing on the side-lines he’d felt fairly safe from attack as there was nothing to indicate he was actually doing much more than watching. The Bloodguard had enough to worry about without being concerned about someone not taking part. His first indication that the Bloodguard had taken notice of his participation was when one of the giant females slammed down in front of him flaming sword raised to strike.

It had been more than a decade since his days as a green soldier barely into his teens, but the monolithic woman with her fiery eyes, bared teeth, and raspy screech scared him so bad he felt his bones turn to jelly. Quick reflexes kept him from being split in half. A faster scramble and a duck kept his head from being trimmed off his shoulder blades. The winged woman kept on his heels. His only weapons were the Garmtur and his feet. She made sure he got no chance to focus and use his savant power.

Presenting his back to an opponent this powerful meant death. He leaped as he heard her blade sizzle through the air. A burning slash cut into his arm and raked across his spine. He yelled, twisting his body in the air so he came down on his back. His shoulders dug into the dirt. The Valkyrie possessed far too much mass to stop quickly and rammed full speed into his heels as he aimed a kick right beneath her ribs. It felt like smashing his foot into a block of wood, but something gave with the impact. She let out a surprised gasp as he rolled back with her momentum, flipping her crashing into the dirt.

Bannor lunged back to his feet. His back felt on fire. Idun’s armor shielded him little from the magic of her blade. The huge creature knelt in the dirt, wheezing for breath and clutching her chest. She smashed her fist on the ground in anger and turned glowing red eyes on him. The creature looked beautiful the way a doll did, its perfect features twisted in a mask of anger and determination. It shook its head and snarled like a feral beast. It wanted nothing less than his death.

His stomach twisted and he winced in pain, looking for anything he might use. He couldn’t hold a weapon, and he simply didn’t have time to focus the Garmtur on her. If he ran, she’d get him next time for sure. Heart pounding he swallowed and dug in his heels. She’d taste his boot leather before she killed him.

Sword clenched in her fist the Bloodguard stalked toward him. She knew he couldn’t run. She rubbed beneath her ribs and spit blood into the dirt at his feet. Gritting brilliant white teeth, fiery eyes narrowed she let out a raspy yell and raised her sword.

Something massive crashed down behind Bannor, making the ground ripple under his feet. A bone-rattling roar caused the Valkyrie’s hair to blow back as though caught in a gale. A cloying ophidian odor filled the air along with the acrid scent of burning. Clawed feet the size of small wagons speared into the ground on either side of him and a giant draconian head snaked forward, arm-sized teeth clicking together.

The dusky-skinned Bloodguard paled as Tymoril’s scales flickered red and sparks flashed around her spines. The winged-female chose to retreat instants too late. Her flight ended in a fireball that smashed into a distant ravine.

Tymoril snorted and nodded as though satisfied with the result. She made a little grunting sound and nudged Bannor.

“I’ll live,” he said, rubbing the scales of her huge cheek. “Thanks, Tymoril.” The corner of the draconian’s mouth quirked up and she shoved him around toward her side. “You’re right, I’ll be safer under your wing.” Even if he disagreed, he wouldn’t argue with a hundred-ton serpent. He didn’t like being protected, but he favored dying even less.

The sky lit up, lightning forking into the sky from the highest minaret in the city. Clouds whirled and multiple peels of thunder shook the entire city.

Though it was far away Bannor could make out a figure silhouetted on that pinnacle. Somehow, that crash was different than the dozen other blasts they’d heard. This time the Bloodguard halted and looked up, after a moment they withdrew from their opponents.

Sarai, Wren, Daena, Irodee, and Laramis all dropped to their knees in the mud, propped up on their weapons with more than a score of wounded Bloodguard collapsed around them. The five of them looked little better than their collapsed foes. Faces pale, the dark women gathered up their injured and started an organized retreat. Bannor wasn’t certain what had happened, but he knew it was fortunate. His friends wouldn’t have lasted any longer.

Heart pounding, he staggered toward Sarai. Tymoril stayed with him, eying the Bloodguard suspiciously as they limped away. Sarai started to stand and slumped back down, and simply waved to him in exhaustion. The elven princess was a blood-streaked mess, her lip was split, and a streak of crimson jagged across her face from a gash in her forehead. The mithril steel battle webbing she wore for protection was sundered and melted, the cloth underneath charred from the heat of flaming swords.

“Well met, friends,” Laramis said in a weak voice. “I will count our survival in this exchange a victory.”

“You call this surviving?” Daena groaned holding her head. “Tongs and nails, what bloody happened? Feel like I’ve been run over by a stampede.”

“You were—a stampede of Bloodguard. That is, after you got them crankin mad at you,” Wren said flipping strands of soaked blonde hair out of her face. She looked as terrible as anybody. Apparently, she hadn’t been able to use her power to protect herself.

“Mad at me?” Daena looked around confused, green eyes wide. She looked down at the sword in her hand, and saw that her arms were soaked to the shoulder in blood. “When did I—? Last thing I remember was hearing the horn. Next thing I know I’m getting my wheat thrashed by a dozen winged witches.”

“Daena really doesn’t remember?” Irodee asked, her dusky face incredulous. The huge Myrmigyne looked to Wren, and the Savant met her gaze.

The girl’s face clouded with concern. “Everything just goes blank.”

“Wonderful,” Sarai grumbled, shaking her head.

Bannor slogged down in the mud next to his mate and put his bandaged arms around her as best he good. “I won’t ask how you are, you must feel terrible.”

“Just like a frelling casualty,” she groaned, putting her arms around his neck. “Overstuffed feathered retches. What happened? Why’d they stop?”

“Thor and Idun must have taken the city. When Daena cracked the gates they wasted no time. The Bloodguard must have all been out here. They probably didn’t leave a significant force inside to hold the place.”

“I cracked the gates?” Daena looked back to the open portal. “Whoa, I did completely fade didn’t I?”

“Apparently,” Wren said. “Hella is just as big a witch as ever.”

Daena frowned, the glow in her green eyes dimming perceptibly. She wiped at her bloody face, and spat on the ground. “Just keep in mind I’m stuck with her. She gave me no choice when she merged into me.”

Bannor sniffed and stared at Wren for a moment. The blonde savant met his gaze and raised her chin. “Daena, nobody is blaming you,” he said.

The auburn-haired girl folded her arms and glanced at Wren. “Sure sounded like it.” Still scowling, she looked around. “What happened to that horn I heard right before I blanked out?”

“Methinks it stopped when yon gates were breached,” Laramis reported.

The Justicar’s wife shook her head. “Irodee thinks it was before. When Daena said she was Hel.”

“Makes sense,” Sarai said. “She sounded pretty frelling mad at whoever Cerberus is. If he sensed she was on the battlefield. He might not have been all that eager to confront his mistress. That might be why we have Daena back now. The thing that had her all worked up—left the scene.”

“Damn it, I hate ever meeting that creature!” Daena growled. “So, now what? We going to just sit here in this bog? It stinks.”

“It does stink.” Wren replied wrinkling her nose. She pushed herself to a stand with a groan. She wobbled a bit and straightened. “Thank the heaven’s for Nonna’s fruit … we wouldn’t have survived otherwise.” She let out a breath. “Guess we go help secure the city. It won’t be long before Odin’s jury starts heading back here. I give them a day at best to heal.”

“Aye,” Laramis agreed, clambering to his feet and helping up Irodee. “Then they shall be in a grand miff. I suspect they shall not be eager to fight. They are unaware that they were laid out by a mistake.”

“Neither do we,” Daena said, eying Bannor with a raised eyebrow. “He sounded pretty sure when he threatened Loki.”

Wren put hands on hips. “How would you know that?” She narrowed her eyes and stared at the young savant. “You and Sarai were in Odin’s spear then.”

Daena shrugged and turned away. “Let’s get out of here, it smells bad.”

Wren followed the other savant, arms folded and a scowl on her face. Bannor glanced to Sarai. His mate wore a contemplative expression and her gaze stayed on Daena’s back. Both Laramis and Irodee wore perplexed looks as they followed after.

Bannor rose slowly feeling pain in every joint. The fight with the Bloodguard had been brief but he didn’t have much energy left to begin with. He offered his elbow to help Sarai up. She was careful to grab above the bandages and managed to get upright after a couple of tries. She rubbed clean a place on his cheek and kissed him.

He felt a hot breath on his back and reached up rub Tymoril’s scales. His arm hurt but it was a small price to pay. She rubbed against him making a pleased thrumming sound.

“You shouldn’t encourage her,” Sarai said.

“Maybe not, but she kept a Valkyrie from splitting me in half.”

Sarai looked up at Tymoril. The ridges over the creature’s golden eyes rose and the fins on her head angled forward. She grinned with sword-sized teeth.

“Reptilian trollop,” Sarai grumbled as they started after the others. “What is it with you Bannor? Goddesses, children—lizards…”

He laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t forget elves.”

“Yes,” she poked him in the side. “Let’s not. Oooh,” she grimaced. The cut on her forehead had stopped bleeding but it still looked raw and painful. “Lords, I feel like I was run down by a frelling Rhinotaur.”

“Better to feel like it, than to look like it,” he murmured. “I hope they give us more than a day to recover.”

“Frell that—I don’t want time to recover, I want to go home. We have Mother and Father—Idun has her children … we fulfilled our agreement. We stopped Odin—survived this gauntlet. We’re done. I’m not a soldier for Idun. She can fight her own damn political battles. I’m tired of all this dredge.”

As they limped toward Asgard, he had to wonder what they would have to do before they could get home. He cast a glanced back to where two of the mercenaries died. Could they get there before the place claimed someone close to him. The fact that it hadn’t already seemed a miracle in itself.

Then there was Daena. What did they do about her? They couldn’t leave her here. If he brought her back to Titaan, he might be unleashing a terrible force on the world. She was already creating new mysteries to unravel. How did she know about what he had told Loki when she and Sarai were bound inside the spear? Worse, when would Hella next make an appearance—and for how long?

For a long while, he had only focused on getting home. Now, that it looked like they might, he was starting to dread the prospect. Daena was only one of the difficulties. He put his arm around Sarai and she snuggled close. There were babies, in-laws, and Sarai herself. What had she been trying to do by allowing Daena to be in her body? His head hurt … he prayed there would be rest within the walls of Asgard.

Asgard—impressive place, if you can get over that ‘dead’ smell.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 49
Welcome to Asgard

« ^ »

As the cadre of white-winged Valkyries ushered Bannor and Sarai toward the city center, he stared up at the gleaming walls of gold. Huge buildings of mirror smooth stone stretched high into the night without a sign of block, seam, or mortar. Asgard. In a better frame of mind, he might have been more impressed.

Inside the city, the walls gave refuge from the icy wind. As he thawed, it only made his numbed wounds hurt more. The air possessed a metallic scent mixed with the faint but distinct odor of decay. The paving stones underfoot trembled with the heavy footsteps of immortals, the clack of hard boots sharp and resounding in the canyons formed by the buildings.

Now, he felt lucky to have the energy to move. He had little to spare for awe. The battle to enter the city was only the last link in a long chain of punishing trials. He’d been slammed, battered, drained, and wrung out. Five fortnights ago, this mess started with Sarai’s capture in Blackwater and his getting hung on the gallows.

If dangling from a hangman’s noose had been the worst of the things that happened since—he would now be counting himself fortunate. No, execution was only one highlight in a series of mishaps—from being chased by demons, avatars, and goddesses, to having his body stolen, getting trapped in another dimension, and losing the single most important person in his life. All that happened before they even came to Gladshiem. Then events got worse…

He should be happy. It looked as if they might get out of this mess alive. It didn’t feel like it though. The air felt charged. Around them, more than a dozen white-winged Valkyries bustled, flaming swords naked in their hands, shining feathers ruffled and doll-like faces tight. Close to two score of the Chosen met them just inside the city gates, informing them that they were to be escorted to Citadel Centre to join Idun and Thor.

Though most of the fighting had subsided, a few skirmishes still continued to be fought inside the city. Apparently, some of the Bloodguard refused to accept defeat. In the few short exchanges Bannor saw, the Chosen eagerly went to the task of changing their minds. With clear evidence that Odin would not be protecting the bullying Bloodguard, the white-winged Valkyries were quick to vent centuries of frustration on those that resisted.

Though generally not as massive as Odin’s creations, the Chosen were demonstratively more resilient and possessed a considerable edge in speed. In single combat, their superior fighting ability and tactical smarts was obvious. The Bloodguard’s advantage apparently had always been numbers and the fact that Odin favored his creations. Without overwhelming odds, the fights they witnessed were one-sided debacles. They saw five Bloodguard attack two of the lesser Chosen. The two smaller warriors withstood everything the bigger women dealt out and responded with a drubbing that had Bannor wincing in empathy. It made sense that the black-winged contingent outside the city retreated when Daena opened the gates. The ten score of those faithful to Idun and Thor that rushed to join the fray would have chopped the already depleted legion of Bloodguard into stew meat.

In Bannor’s mind, the battle was over. Still, the atmosphere remained tense. The Chosen spoke to one another in guarded tones, gazes furtively studying every roof and doorway.

He sniffed, detecting the acrid smell of ashes and burned feathers. Something felt wrong aside from the obvious. He simply couldn’t identify the source.

“Are you well, my One?” Sarai asked pulling him closer to her. “You look pale.”

He shook his head. “Tired,” he answered.

“His wounds need tending, he’s losing a lot of blood,” one of the Valkyries chimed in from behind them.

Bannor glanced to the speaker. Startled, he looked back. The one who spoke was tiny for a Valkyrie, if not for seams in her face Bannor would have thought her only a girl. Whip thin with a body described in angles and edges, she was all mirror-polished buttons, buffed leather, and blue-edge steel. With all the knives and blade-handles, she reminded Bannor of a forest spine-back, fine enough to look at, but nothing you’d want to touch. She wore her blue-black hair knotted back from a triangular face. Silver-gray eyes gleamed behind a pair of large gold-framed spectacles that perched low on her freckled nose. The fragile and bookish looking glasses were a startling contrast with her otherwise war-like appearance. The gold griffon emblems on her dark armor marked her as one of the commanders, equal to or exceeding Kylie’s rank.

Sarai looked around, and like him blinked at seeing an immortal wearing glasses. Frowning, she slowed and examined Bannor’s back. “Why didn’t you say you were hurt?”

“You knew I was hurt,” he responded with a frown. “Everybody is hurt.” He hated being fussed over.

“With Idun’s magic they’ll heal … you could bleed to death. Rock-skulled man … I swear.” She cuffed him lightly on top of the head.

“Ow. Hey.” He tried to rub the spot, but couldn’t get his arm to bend.

“Better remove his armor,” the same Valkyrie suggested.

Sarai shoved his arms up one at a time and yanked loose the laces on his chainmail. “Off,” she ordered.

“Star, you’re hurt too—ow!” He subsided when she pinched his ear.

“My One, don’t make me cross. I’m already in a bad mood.”

He bent and let her and the Valkyrie coax the heavy armor off him. Pulling his bandaged arms through the mail’s sleeves was an agonizing process. He grunted and winced through the process, feeling a week’s worth of accumulated battle damage all at one time. They handed the armor to one of the other maidens who threw it over her shoulder without comment.

He shivered and rubbed at his itchy skin salted by perspiration and crusted over with dried blood. Though it hurt, it was a relief to not have two stone of metal weighing down his aching body.

Urged to stay with the others, they continued walking down the street toward the center of the city. Daena, Wren, Laramis and Irodee stayed in view ahead of them surrounded by their own cadre of the Chosen.

“A mortal fighting Bloodguard injured like that?” The immort woman pushed the glasses up on her face, and shook her head. “Brave man.”

“Not much choice.” He grunted in pain as Sarai cleaned his wounds with a linen cloth handed to her by the commander.

“Should have stayed on Tymoril,” Sarai growled. “Your nola would have worked equally well from there.” She made a gesture and sparks danced in a thin line around his torso. Cloth appeared in thick band around his chest to hold the linen in place. “Damn Bannor, there are plenty other ways to show you love me. One of them is not getting injured.”

“Star, believe me, I don’t invite pain. If you hadn’t noticed—” He grunted as she swabbed at some of his other scratches. “Trouble just has a way of finding me.”

“With uncanny accuracy,” Sarai muttered.

“Here, this will prevent festering,” the Valkyrie said, handing Sarai a vial from her pocket.

Bannor smelled a sharp odor as his mate uncorked the container, satisfied herself, and daubed some of it on a cloth. She touched it to the wound and Bannor instantly regretted it.

“Argh! That stuff stings!”

Sarai snorted. “Then it’s working.”

“It hurts!”

“So will you if these deep cuts fester—hold still.” Sarai nodded to the smaller woman. “Thank you…” she paused with an inquiring look.

“Millicent,” the dark-haired woman responded.

“Millicent,” Sarai repeated after a pause. The name, like the glasses, didn’t go with the rest of the fearsome looking little warrior. “My mate likes to confront immortals while wearing this very easily damaged, very mortal skin. So, I have to patch him up as fast as possible before another whim finds him engaging another such opponent.”

“That’s not true!” he protested.

“Oh hush,”

“The Norns tell us he met Father Odin in a test of arms,”

“Test of arms,” Bannor groaned lifting up his bandaged limbs. “Ha. I see it more as a failure of arms—look at them.”

One of the stone-faced Valkyries near him saw his expression, and a smile spread across her stern face. She covered her mouth, cheeks coloring, and let out a choked laugh. The others in their escort made amused sounds.

Millicent grinned. “To be so injured and still able to jest. Truly he must have bard’s blood.”

“No, just a high pain threshold.” Sarai laughed and kissed him on the nose. “My One, I’m glad you’re hale enough to tease.”

“I don’t feel hale enough. I have a mountain-sized headache.”

Sarai drew a breath, expression concerned. With her own face still streaked with dirt and blood, he knew she must be in a good deal of pain herself. No doubt ministering to him helped her block it out. With Idun’s magic sustaining her, she wouldn’t take long to heal. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I’m sorry you hurt, my One. We’ll go home soon, and be done with this mess.” She turned to Millicent. “I certainly hope this will be resolved soon.”

The Valkyrie’s wings ruffled and her features tightened. “As do we all. It will depend on whether the jury accedes to Thor and Idun.”

“What if they don’t? What if they’re still upset about us leaving them all face down in a field a hundred leagues back?” Bannor hooked a thumb toward the west.

Millicent paled, and a few of her sisters visibly cringed. “Then there may be a contest. Let us hope Asgard needs not shed anymore of her own blood.”

As Millicent finished her words, the street opened out into a wide central plaza that surrounded the main citadel proper. With its high arched roof and extreme pinnacle the citadel looked one part castle and two parts cathedral. Long snaky parapets wound around the complex structure with buttresses and balconies arrayed in chaotic maze of stonework.

From the design, it appeared the place had been partially destroyed and rebuilt countless times, each new engineer trying to improve upon the work of the last. The asymmetrical, almost random arrangement of domes, towers, and sub-buildings had a unique character that was beautiful in its stark ugliness. Two giant iron valves that served as the main entrance gaped open, hanging askew on their hinges—no doubt Thor had needed to open them by force.

Here in the square, they saw some of the first citizens aside from the Valkyries and the militia. They lingered around the edges of the square, watching them with wide and fascinated eyes. Quite a few wore tight expressions that suggested they were unhappy with the outsiders within their walls.

The rest of the group gathered ahead of them looking around. Where were Wren and Sarai’s parents, Kylie, Jhord? In fact, where had Tymoril gone? The dragon had been shadowing him so closely. Once the Valkyries took him into their custody, she disappeared too.

The answer to his question came swiftly. Euriel and Vanidaar, closely followed by Sarai’s family, Kylie and Jhord, came out through the opening. Both Wren and Sarai surged through the press toward their families. Euriel and Kalindinai spied their daughters immediately and headed straight for them. The armor and clothing of both ladies was burned and blood smeared—they had obviously fought long and hard as well. Having seen them fight, no-one would ever doubt either Kalindinai or Euriel was a warrior. Fighters they might be, but also mothers … both of them started in on their battered daughters—about being worried, about them taking risks—embarrassing things only a mother could get away with saying.

He noticed Sarai didn’t like being fussed over either. Kalindinai put an end to Sarai’s protests much the way his mate had done his. A sharp rap on top of the head and a growled, ‘hold still’. Rolling her eyes, Sarai let the Queen tend to her wounds. He smiled seeing Sarai forced to endure the same uncomfortable ministrations.

“What are you grinning at,” Kalindinai said in sharp tone, wheeling on him. “Where were you? You know she’s with child, you should have kept her out of that kind of press!”

Caught by the Queen’s glare, he started to speak but the words stuck in his throat. “Uh—Matradomma, I can’t make your daughter do anything she hasn’t already made up her mind to do.”

“Nonsense. You’d best watch after her better in the future.” She turned away without giving him a chance to say anything further.

He heard a throat cleared behind him. He realized that Millicent had stayed with them. She appeared amused at his being scolded. Arms behind her back, the little Valkyrie stepped up beside him. In a low voice she said, “Don’t worry. It’s just tension from the fight. That and you can never completely please a mother-in-law.” She pulled off her glasses and cleaned one of the lenses and gestured at him with them. “Especially a mother about to become a grandmother for the first time. She won’t be happy with you until she’s bouncing that little one on her knee.”

“Maybe not even then,” he mumbled.

Kylie and Jhord came up to stand in front him and Millicent. The blonde Valkyrie nodded to the commander placing a fist over her heart and thumping her heels. Jhord mirrored the gesture. The smaller lady pushed her glasses up on her nose and made a little bow to Kylie, and then to red-haired Jhord. “All secured?”

“Zey are. Odin is in ze main chamber. Thor and Idun are with him and the Norns. Without his flux stone, he has not regained ze consciousness … or refuses to do zo … I know not which.”

“If would not surprise me that Odin feels shame at this course of events. Especially, having failed to kill a mortal he held in his own hands.” She peered at Bannor from the corner of her eye. “Add to it, that he was dragged here tied up like a common criminal…”

A hand snaked around Bannor’s waist and pulled him against a furnace warm body. He looked down into a pair of amber eyes. Janai brushed back dark hair and smiled up at him. The plump older sister looked hardly to have even been in a fight. She had a few cuts and bruises, but they were only noticeable close up like now. How she avoided the battering administered to everyone one else on her team he had no idea. Coming through a battle clean was a privilege usually reserved for Laramis. The Justicar often made it through major fights without even a smudge on his tunic. Not in this war. Sir De’Falcone looked as if he’d been caught beneath a butcher’s meat tenderizer.

“Greetings, brother-in-law to be, Mother giving you a hard time?”

He nodded. “She’s just tired and grouchy. She doesn’t mean it.”

Janai snickered. “Yes, she does. She expects you to lift mountains and walk on water. This is my mother we are talking about.”

“Should you be hanging on me like this?”

Janai raised an eyebrow. “Friend, you look to need a little support. Wouldn’t do to have you sprawled on the ground right before Thor and Idun make their announcement. Besides,” she looked over at Sarai being bandaged. “The way she’s banged up, if she decides to have a go at me.” She grinned. “I can take her.”

“I rather Sarai not get angry to begin with,” he said in a flat tone.

“Yes, yes,” Janai made dismissing gestures. “Bannor the peacemaker and diplomat. Actually, I was wondering what happened to Daena. Is she okay?”

He frowned. “Physically, she’s pretty smashed up, but that’ll heal. In the head though, I don’t know. Something pretty strange happened on the battlefield.”

Janai’s amber eyes narrowed. “It has to do with her opening the gates doesn’t it? How did she do that?”

“She became Hella—totally—memories and all. Daena was gone. I guess as Hella, she knew how to break the spell.”

The princess’ features darkened. “Daena is back now though, yes?”

“As far as I can tell. The incident really scared her.”

“I can imagine.” Janai shook her head. “Poor girl.”

“Are you done mauling my mate, Janai?” Sarai asked in an arch tone.

The older princess looked over with a smile. “Just keeping him warm for you.” She looked Sarai up and down, biting her lower lip. “Sister, you simply must learn how to duck.”

“Oh shush. Go away.”

Janai chuckled and stepped away from Bannor. “Here’s your One. You really should take better care of him—letting him get all bashed up like that.”

Sarai snorted, gaze meeting his. “Trust me, we already had a talk about unnecessary scars.”

“He is a warrior, Sarai,” the King’s bass voice broke in. “He is not likely to save himself hurt when there is battle to be braced.” The King stepped between two Valkyries, his gray hair soggy with perspiration and the blood of their fighting. “Whenever I see him fight, he fights hardest when he is concerned for your safety. A father can appreciate that. Certain daughters would do well to remember when she scolds her One for being injured. He goes where you go.”

Bannor blinked. Were his ears playing tricks on him? T’Evagduran saying something—in his defense? Truly, things had entered a new realm now. He guessed with all the battle they had survived, the rescue of the Queen, and the fact he would soon become a grandfather finally softened the stern leader toward him. Bannor honestly never thought that would happen within his lifetime.

Sarai’s wide eyes and open mouth showed her to be as surprised as himself.

Janai pursed her lips, then smiled. She patted Bannor on the shoulder and pushed through the small crowd toward where Daena was standing.

As Bannor watched the older princess recede, he looked around to Kylie, the King and Queen, and spoke up. “Pardon my impatience, but is anybody going to tell us what’s happening? What’s next?”

“If we knew,” Kylie said. “We would tell you. Thor and Idun are consulting with the Norns. They have requested that Forseti come to judge the situation.”

“Forseti?” Bannor frowned. “How will he be different than any other of the gods? Odin can just intimidate him like he did everyone else.”

Millicent spoke up. “No, Balder’s son has special status as arbiter in the lands of Gladshiem. He has a reputation for being fair and impartial.”

“Balder’s son?” Sarai repeated. “Wonderful. How impartial will he be if he knows we slammed his father and shot arrows into his eyes?”

“By Fenris, is there no-one you have not transgressed against?” Millicent demanded, hands on hips.

“Probably not,” Bannor growled. “Odin sent every god he could bloody get to come after us, starting with Heimdall and Thor, then Sif and Hel, oh yes, mustn’t forget Loki. We fought him three times. Then comes Balder, the entire Jury, and Odin himself of course. If I’m not mistaken, that only leaves maybe a half dozen or so of Aesir nobility that we didn’t have to fight.”

Millicent glanced at Kylie who nodded in response. The dark-haired Valkyrie scowled, pulled off her glasses and began wiping at the already spotless lenses. Her wings fluttered in obvious agitation. “I do not know,” she said after a moment, shaking her head. “If ever there were an occasion for Forseti to be swayed, it would be where his father is concerned.”

“It’s probably no accident that Odin sent Balder alone against us,” King T’Evagduran said. “He knew they’d gotten past Sif, Loki and Hel. He had to know they’d find a way to get past Balder too. Either way he got what he wanted. If Balder stopped them that served, if Balder lost, a judge who might potentially show this as an unjust vendetta becomes biased.”

Millicent sighed. “Truly, the layers of duplicity we have uncovered is dizzying. I believe it is as Idun says. Odin has gone too long without renewal. His reason is slipping, and he has become petty and vengeful.”

Bannor thought to himself that all gods were petty and vengeful with or without renewal. He didn’t say it aloud though. A thought occurred to him and he was about to speak to it when a crack like thunder crashed through the square. A bright light flared and two figures appeared in the brilliance. The illumination dimmed, but only by half. One of the figures glowed silvery bright, white-hair flashing in the city lights.

“Speak of the enemy,” Queen Kalindinai muttered. “There he is.”

The being was indeed Balder. The god wore a bandage over his eyes and he leaned on a small reedy man dressed in black. Balder looked to have been in a terrible fight, appearing more thrashed even than the members of the jury.

“What happened to him?” Sarai wanted to know. “Daena only bloodied his nose so that Janai could shoot him. He looks as if he was run over by a herd of Rhinotaurs.”

“Ock,” Jhord let out banging her head against Kylie’s shoulder. “I be smellin’ some more o that duplicity.”

“Zis is not good,” Kylie said.

Bannor felt his stomach twist. “Don’t tell me. Is that Forseti he’s leaning on?”

Millicent put on her glasses and clicked her teeth together. She blinked, gray eyes large behind the lenses. “It would indeed.”

Fair and impartial—isn’t that like a carnival that doesn’t give a rip?

—Daena Sheento

Ward Prodigal of Malan

Chapter 50
Forseti’s Accusation and Thor’s Judgment

« ^ »

A masculine voice, soft, but penetrating cut through the noise in the square, making the buzz of speakers subside into a surprised silence. “I hear members of your group attacked my Father. Are any brave enough to admit their guilt?”

The immortal asking the question cut a modest profile compared to the heroically proportioned Balder who stood behind him. Forseti appeared as a younger, thinner rendition of the god of light, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Up close, the extent of his father’s wounds became apparent. Stab and slash wounds riddled the immortal’s body, many of them open and bleeding. He appeared to have been hacked up by a dozen enemies, or by a few who enjoyed their work.

Silhouetted against the massive citadel, Balder appeared pale and shook. His white tabard and silver chainmail hung in shreds of fabric and metal. Makeshift bandages swathed his eyes and the thickest parts of his arms and legs. His skin bulged from what must be broken bones and swelling from internal bleeding. He appeared as Sarai said, ‘as though he’d been run over by a herd of Rhinotaurs’.

Bannor watched as Laramis and Irodee took fighting positions, hands gripping weapons. Janai and Daena stared at Forseti.

Daena frowned at the reedy god. Arms folded, she said, “I swung first. When I struck him, he was already trying to imprison us.”

Janai shrugged. “I took his vision. He cannot pursue what he cannot see.”

“You weren’t satisfied with that?” Forseti growled.

“Aye, very satisfied,” Laramis said with a nod. “They retreated then, as did we all. We had no desire to fight this immort. Twas he who brought the battle to us! Does he say any different?”

“He ‘says’ nothing at all!” Forseti burst out. “A stifling has been worked on him to keep him from identifying his attackers! The same filth also gave him wound blight to prevent healing. The culprits will burn in Hel’s fire for this atrocity.”

“Those fires are cold now,” Daena said low rasp, glowing green eyes turning bright. “Punish your enemies elsewhere.” Her voice took on a hard edge, resonating as it did when Hella started to awaken within her. “If he speaks to it or not, we blinded him to escape. Seek elsewhere for the other harm done him.”

“As if the word of criminals can be trusted,” Forseti snarled.

Next to Bannor, Millicent stomped her foot. The little Valkyrie stormed over and stopped in front of Balder’s son. “Lord Forseti,” she said in her high clear voice. “This is most inappropriate.”

The god of justice glared at her. “Advocate, seek you to counsel me on what is appropriate? Inappropriate was use of wound blight. Inappropriate was stifling, and so was stealing his flux stone! I need no advocate to tell me the wrongs committed here.”

Millicent swallowed. “Milord there’s no proof they did this.”

“That one admits to striking him,” he pointed to Daena.

“She denies the rest.” Millicent’s wings fluttered in agitation. “It’s senseless. It advantages them naught, nor did they need to incapacitate him.”

Forseti made dismissing swing of his arm. “The logic here is irrelevant, Advocate. Criminals often do things both base and senseless. They are criminals because their minds and hearts are chaos.”

Daena’s hands tightened into fists. She turned to view everyone, when her gaze met Bannor’s his heart skipped a beat. Her eyes had turned to flame. She focused on the god of justice.

“Forseti, have you seen my father?”

“Your father?” He paused. “Do I know—” He flinched back a step. “Hella.”

“That I am. Have you seen Loki?”

“No—” He swallowed, obviously taken aback by the change. Bannor found his strong reaction odd. “S-should I have?”

She raised her chin. “Yes. You have his smell on you.”

“Nonsense,” he said, but he retreated a step.

“Father!” She called to the sky. “I feel your hand in this. These people are mine now, and you may not play with them. Seek not to dally in this.” Her voice dropped to an icy rasp that made Bannor’s spine tingle. “The chiding the dragon gave you in the battlefield will be pleasant compared to what I will do.”

Janai looked up at Daena. “Are you sure Loki is involved, Daena?”

The auburn-haired girl peered at Janai, the flames in her eyes dancing. She put an arm around the elven princess and pulled her close. “Of course, Lover, you don’t think I’d say something like that—” She turned back to Forseti. “Unless I meant it.” She licked her lips. “Hel’s fires have cooled, but they could be warmed again. Deception annoys me. I hope for your sake you are not trying to deceive us.”

Janai wore a tight expression. She stiffened when called ‘Lover’. Daena would never have used that word—not even in jest.

Forseti took another half-step back, but kept his gaze on them. “You are the deceivers here.”

Daena shook her head, lips spreading into a smile. She flipped her auburn hair. “Now, now—name calling is childish. His face has cracked, wouldn’t you say Janai?”

The princess still seemed agitated by Daena’s possessive moves and tone, but the question focused her again. She turned her attention to Forseti, body still taut in the circle of Daena’s arm. “I—I think you’re right.”

“Indeed.” Daena sniffed, then turned her attention toward Wren and her family. “Euriel, you were always good at handling Bragi. Perhaps you can get Forseti to tell the truth.”

Euriel shot her a puzzled look. “Bragi? What—?”

“Remember Idun’s words? Bragi is what this is all about. All this trouble is because centuries ago you beat the boot-leather off a cowardly, good-for-nothing, child-molesting, laggard of a bard who cannot put lips to pipe without sounding a sour note.”

“You have no call to speak of Bragi so!” Forseti burst out, face turning red.

Sarai bumped her head against Bannor’s shoulder. “Oooh, that was clever,” she whispered. “Speared him in the ego.”

Forseti coughed as though something caught in his throat, and regained his composure. “Bragi has nothing to do with this!”

“No,” Euriel said, stepping forward to stand near Daena and Janai. “I think Hella speaks true. Bragi may have much to do with this.”

“I will see the jury punishes you all for what you did to my father!”

Bannor turned the power of the Garmtur toward Balder. A chill spread down his spine as his nola awakened. The complex mesh of threads that comprised reality spread across his vision. Did the real god of light accompany this Forseti pretender? Was this the same creature that Daena and Janai blinded in the canyon before their fight with Odin? As he studied the patterns of elemental and magic power radiating from the creature, he felt certain they must be the same. Each weave would be unique to an entity. Balder’s pattern matched the one he saw before, but new threads not a part of him wound through his aura. Those energies might be strong enough to restrain even a god.

“I don’t know if Forseti is real,” Bannor said. “That’s the original Balder though. There’s some powerful magic on him.”

“I concur,” Daena said. “It is Balder. Would Bragi do this to him?”

“Bragi has nothing to do with this!” Forseti yelled again.

“He lacks the courage,” Euriel said in a flat tone.

Forseti’s face turned red. “Stop ignoring me!”

“Have you noticed,” Sarai said, speaking up. “Balder hasn’t even blinked. Shouldn’t he be able to move?”

“He may not be able to,” Bannor determined. “There’s magic restraining him, and it’s a lot more than a stifling. It may be a control of some kind. The wounds may have been to weaken him enough to be susceptible.”

“Control?” Millicent said, turning to him.

He nodded.

“Ignore him,” Forseti growled. “He knows naught of what he says.”

Wren moved forward and put an arm around her mother Euriel. She brushed back her blonde hair, jaw tensed and brow furrowed. “Bannor doesn’t need to know what he’s talking about. He tells what he sees.”

Daena nodded to Janai then regarded Forseti with a raised eyebrow. The fire in her eyes dimmed to a dull red flicker. She smiled like a predator contemplating its next pounce. Had she possessed a tail, it would be twitching in anticipation. Though she always sided with them, Hella’s emergences still made Bannor nervous. She made disturbing statements. These people are mine now, and you may not play with them. She meant it.

Drawing a breath, Euriel laced her fingers and cracked her knuckles. “I still have a little of Mother’s energy left. If he is Bragi, he hasn’t yet fully recovered from Bannor’s blast.” She rubbed her hands together. “Mother is right, all of this was his fault. He may not have encouraged Odin—but he certainly participated without any sign of coercion.” She rubbed her nose and viewed the god with one eye closed. “He should have wounds to match his father.”

Forseti sniffed, his tone turning hard. “You dare not.”

Euriel snorted. “We just blew up the entire noble court of Asgard, killed more than ten score of the Bloodguard, and attacked this city. How can pounding the deceit out of you possibly get me in any more trouble?”

The blonde god swallowed, gazing at the Valkyries and militia standing all around them. “They will stop you!”

Millicent turned slowly to Euriel. She pulled off her glasses and put them away in a pocket. She shook her head. “I can’t see a thing. Never did hear all that well.” She nodded to the other maidens and walked toward the citadel. “Sisters.” Within a heartbeat, the two score Valkyries were filing toward the giant valves.

Head tilted to one side, Euriel watched the white-winged Chosen walk away. She straightened. “You are Bragi, right? Will I have to chase you down like last time? I am a little winded. I hope you will not be bothered if I let my daughter help.”

Forseti blinked, his face turned the color of snow. “You’re bluffing.”

“I shall hold him for you,” Daena offered.

“I will aide as well,” Kylie chimed in from behind Bannor.

Bannor liked this game. He knew one other way to test if this was Bragi as Hella surmised. “How about I just rip out his magic like I did to Tyr and Vidar? That should soften him up.”

Forseti sucked a breath and shuddered. He visibly forced himself to hold still. Bannor knew right then that he must have fought on the battlefield. “You would kill everyone!”

Euriel nodded to Bannor, then shook her head. “Bragi—you never were very brave—or smart. How could you know that—unless you were there?”

The god scowled. “Go ahead. Beat me to pulp. Who is the Jury going to believe? You or the god of Justice?”

Across the square, a loud clapping came from a single set of powerful hands. A rumbling bass, Thor’s unmistakable booming tones rattled the stone. “Well said, Kinsman. Well said.”

The Thunderlord strode in from down a side street. The many onlookers parted to let him pass. His wife Sif walked with him, her arm through his.

“Lady!” Kylie clasped her hands together in excitement.

Both she and Jhord rushed to Sif’s side.

The battered goddess clung to Thor’s arm for support. Dirt and blood covered her court raiments and her flesh showed signs of many wounds still healing. Apparently, she gave the Bloodguard quite a fight. Kylie and Jhord took up supporting the goddess as Thor continued toward Forseti.

Thor pulled at his beard. “This discourse intrigues me.” He pulled the hammer Mjolnir from his side and smacked the head into his palm with a meaty thud. “Continue.”

Face tight, Forseti watched as several Valkyries rushed out of the citadel and gathered around Sif. The goddess made soothing noises, calming her agitated guards. Her injuries had feathers ruffled and voices growling in anger.

Thor snapped his fingers. “Forseti, you have seen my wife before. Speak now of the Jury.”

The atmosphere seemed to grow thick. Bannor felt the energy swirling around Thor. The Thunderlord was hairs short of a rage.

“Well,” Forseti started. “I was saying that I am the—”

“Milord!” Euriel burst out. “He is not—”

Thor threw out a hand and pointed at her. “Silence. Forseti is speaking.”

The god of Justice grinned at her, seeming to regain some of his confidence.

“I was merely saying it was the word of the god of justice against that of a criminal rabble. Look, milord, look what they have done to my sire!”

Thor scowled, blocky face tight as he gazed at Balder. “Yes, he is in a serious way. The foul craven who did it should be well punished indeed.”

“Smite them, Milord,” Forseti yelled, pointing at Euriel. “All of them deserve death for doing this to my Father!”

“Thor!” Bannor let out. “You don’t—”

“Shut up, Mortal.” Thor interrupted. “Your advice is not required.”

Daena glowered at Thor. “Thunderlord, surely you—”

“All of you. Be silent!” Thor bellowed. “When I want to hear you. I will call on you. I am speaking with—Forseti.”

Forseti bowed his head. “Thank you, Milord.”

Thor smacked the hammer into his palm. “So, I should slay them all you say? For what they did to Balder?”

“Definitely, Milord, their guilt is clear to me.”

Bannor felt his face grow hot and he started to say something when Sarai put a hand over his mouth. “Shhh. Wait.”

Thor raised his chin. “So, you feel certain that whoever hurt Balder is deserving of death? That is what you are saying?”

Forseti’s brow furrowed. “Yes, sire, I mean—was I not clear?”

The Thunderlord glanced back at Sif and his jaw tightened. His knuckles went white on the haft of Mjolnir. “You were clear enough. God of Justice, do you mind if I pose a small legal problem?”

The blond god glanced around, apparently starting to feel the strangeness in the air. “Milord?”

Thor snapped his fingers, and gestured to his side. The air filled with the sound of flapping wings and out from behind a building several Valkyries came bearing something. As the group approached, it became apparent they were carrying a person.

The newcomer bore wounds as serious as Balder’s. His body streaked with sword cuts, clothes burned by flames and caked with mud. Metal rings still circled his neck and wrists. Though bruises and cuts disfigured his face, there was no doubting his identity. The man now standing by the Thunderlord was Forseti.

Thor smacked the hammer into his palm. “I wondered what we would do if there were two of you.”

The color that so recently returned to blond god’s face drained away and he started to tremble. “I—I—” His skin started to glow.

Thor moved like a blur. The hammer left his hand in a shriek and smashed into the imposter knocking him sprawling across the square. The massive hammer came whistling back to the Thundergod’s hand.

The hammer sparked and flashed in his fist. “My judgment is imposters may not teleport away. Euriel, if you please.”

“Yes, Lord!”

The Forseti imposter tried to rise but Euriel slammed a foot down on the back of his neck with a loud crunch. The god screamed. She gestured to Daena and the auburn-haired woman let go of Janai and leaped forward. She thumped onto him with her knees. Pinning his kicking legs, she brought her fist down on the small his back like a hammer. He let out another cry and started blubbering for mercy.

Daena turned to Bannor. “He’s concealed his flux stone. I cannot detect it. Where is it?”

His brow furrowed as he analyzed the whirling patterns around the fake Forseti. The flux stone did not reside in his chest or head where most of the gods kept their magic. The threads around him were woven to conceal his identity. He sensed one tight knot that must be the central nexus of his magic though.

“His left hip, top of the thighbone,” Bannor determined.

“Marvelous, we get to rip his leg off!” Euriel said with a fierce grin and gleam in her eye. “Hold him down, I’ll get ahold of his foot.”

The imposter yelped, flailing with little success as the two women arranged themselves. “Milord! Mercy!”

“What think you, Forseti?” Thor said turning to the man standing by him. “They seem to enjoy their work.”

“Aye, Milord, they do,” Forseti said, covering his mouth to cough. He grimaced at the blood on his hand. “I have a mind to let them be about it. You see the hurts I and my Father have endured.”

“Yes.”

“Arrrgh!” The blonde imposter howled as Euriel planted a foot on his buttocks and wrapped her arms around his squirming leg.

“Mother?” Wren said with an expression of disbelief. “Are you really going to rip off his leg?”

“Definitely!” Euriel grinned. “It will grow back. Want to help?”

“Ahhh!” the blonde man shrieked.

“Oh, shut up!” Daena cuffed him in the back of the head. “Whiner.”

“Remind me never to get on Euriel’s bad side,” Bannor murmured to Sarai.

“I was thinking the same thing,” she whispered back.

Kalindinai sidled over to them and confided to Sarai. “Not someone we want for an enemy is she?”

Sarai chuckled and shook her head.

Euriel gave a sharp yank and the man let out a howl. Bannor covered his ears against the sound.

“Damn, my grip slipped,” Euriel said, tossing the ripped pants leg over her shoulder. “Need to get a good handhold here.” She started meticulously yanking out leg hairs.

“Aie! Aie! Aie! Milord! Get this harridan off of meee!” He yelled louder l as Euriel pulled out a whole handful of hairs in response to the word ‘harridan’.

Forseti rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He clapped Thor on the shoulder. “This is your brother? My condolences.”

“Him and Loki,” Thor grumbled. “A crazy evil bastard, and a total simp. What god could be so lucky?”

“Hurry up,” Daena snapped. “His whining hurts my ears.” She grabbed the back of his head and ground his face into the paving stones. “Suffer—quietly.”

“Ouch,” Sarai murmured.

“Thor, what’s going—on?” Idun had appeared at the doors to the citadel. She looked around. “Euriel, what transpires here?”

Euriel turned to her mother. “Oh, I was just about to pull Bragi’s leg off for impersonating Forseti.”

“Daughter!” Euriel said in stern voice. “How could you?!” She stomped over to Thor. Her gaze met Sif’s, then Forseti’s. She scowled. “That quivering blob under your foot used to be my husband!”

Euriel focused on Idun in surprise. “Mother?”

Idun walked stiffly to where the two women were holding the disguised Bragi down. “You’re doing that all wrong! Here, let me help.”

Bannor didn’t doubt they heard Bragi’s wailing ten leagues away.

Healing potion is terrific until you’re drinking it like water just to keep moving. It’s amazing the foul tasting swill you’ll drink when the only thing holding your insides in is your hand…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 51
Tormented Rest

« ^ »

Bells dragged by with agonizing slowness. In a way, they knew now that, if anything, Forseti would be biased in their favor. Sif escaped the captivity of the Bloodguard and now wouldn’t be a lever against Thor. There remained the question of who cooperated with Bragi. Had he been acting on his own, following Odin’s design, or someone else’s?

All of their group had gathered in a large feast hall. Silver and gold dragons and griffons inlaid into the ironwood rafters chased demons and devils up toward the pinnacle of the high ceiling. Giant ring sconces crammed with candles hung overhead casting the room in a flickering orange light. With little other choice but to wait until the jury convened, most of them tried to nap and get back their energy. The icy stone floor was too cold to be comfortable, so they relaxed on the huge banquet table or across two or three of the comfortable chairs.

Lying on the huge table with his eyes closed Bannor tried to simply to remain in the position that hurt the least.

Earlier they had discussed returning home instead of just awaiting the ire of the Jury. After all, they had killed two gods, and severely injured ten others. It seemed unlikely they would be well disposed toward them. The countering argument was that it appeared obvious right before the order to attack that the members of the Jury knew this was all Odin’s vengeance on Idun and Euriel. The Jury was also warned by Hella. From that warning, they knew Idun’s supporters would fight back. Odin’s followers simply never expected their band could win, and certainly never thought they’d lay the whole Jury low with only two attacks.

Because of that battle, it was even possible the Jury respected their strength now. Their winning through the Bloodguard might have proven in the minds of the gods that the first victory was no accident. Bannor and the others knew different, but no one else did. The discussion came down to one thing, if they wanted to make a clean end of this whole adventure, they must be heard and acquitted. Otherwise, they’d be deemed criminals in the eyes of the gods forever. Bounties being placed on their heads would only be the beginning of a worsening situation. The gods could afford to place incredible prices on their heads that would ruin their lives. For as long as they lived, every tough for hire with a name and sword would dog them.

Bannor’s ears still ached from Bragi’s screaming. Euriel, Daena, and Idun had worked over the blubbering god to an embarrassing extent. They could not however get him to reveal who had attacked Balder and captured Forseti. A closer examination revealed that the god was himself under a compulsion similar to Balder, one that kept him from revealing the truth.

Euriel agreed with Daena that it was likely to be Loki’s doing. He possessed the magical power necessary to enchant even a deity provided they’d been sufficiently weakened. The battlefield littered with the bodies of blasted Jury would have made easy targets for the Trickster Lord.

“My One?” Sarai’s voice whispered close to Bannor’s ear.

“Unngh?”

“I’m sorry, were you sleeping? I thought … well, you weren’t moving…”

“Trying not to,” he moaned in a bleary voice. “Everything hurts.”

She pressed her lips gently against his forehead, and ran her fingers through his hair. “That didn’t hurt did it?”

He forced a smile, opened his eyes and looked into her shining face. “Okay, not everything, just mostly everything.”

“I sent for healing. Euriel asked to get us a place to bathe and clean up.”

“Healing is good. Clean is good,” he mumbled.

“Your eloquence is dazzling, my One.” She grinned at him.

“Star, I promise better conversation when my whole body isn’t in pain.”

“I forgive you. Healing is on the way.” She kissed him on the nose. “You rest, I’ll wake you when they bring the dragon whiz.”

Bannor shut his eyes and groaned. “Star, you have no mercy. You know just thinking about that stuff makes me turn green.”

She chuckled. “Can I help it? I think you’re cute in green.”

“Ugh.”

Her footsteps receded out of his hearing. Even hurting as he did, the battle took so much out of him that he drifted in and out of consciousness. Moments blurred together as he heard snippets of conversations and sensed people moving around the limited confines of the chamber.

He startled awake when a hand touched his throat. Blinking he looked up. “Star?” He tried to rub his bleary eyes and couldn’t because of the arm splints. Some soft cloth wiped his brow and cleared some of the sleep from his vision. He realized then he was looking up at the young savant. “Daena?”

“Mmmm hmmm,” she hummed. She worked briskly, wiping him down and slicing Irodee’s splints off his arms with a hunting knife. He heard the plunk of something being shoved into shallow water. His skin crackled and popped underneath her ministrations as crusts of dry blood flaked off.

He blinked again. “Daena—what?”

“Sarai’s occupied. She’s having an argument with her parents.” She bent down low and whispered in his ear. “From the sound of it. I don’t think it’s one you want to be involved in.”

“Huh? Why?” His stared up at her. Daena brushed back the strands of her auburn hair, glowing green eyes glinting.

The young woman shook her head. “Whenever royals start talking about bastards, weddings, convenience, saving face, heirs, and all that stuff … you know someone’s feelings will get tread on. They talk about you like you’re not there.”

He nodded. “That’s right, they do—” He paused, and frowned. Strange, he’d thought the same exact thing, in exactly those words before. “Hey, what makes you say that? When were you ever around royalty?”

Daena shrugged. “Sarai’s mother and sister were the first.” She dipped the cloth she was cleaning him up with in a bucket, and continued what she was doing. “You know friend, when you poke around in my head, I’m bound to hear things now and then.”

That woke Bannor up. “What? I don’t do that.”

“Yes you do, even when you’re asleep. You’re always feeling around with your power, keeping track of where I am and what I’m doing.”

“I—” He hesitated. Maybe he was doing that. He had grown a great deal more aware of the other savants around him, sensing when their powers were at work. Perhaps as Daena intimated, it was not a passive awareness, but an active probing on his part, however unconscious it might be. He swallowed. “Well, maybe I do; never thought about it. I figured my seeing and sensing was just bigger awareness.”

The young savant tossed her hair and pushed out her lower lip. “No worries, I’m not upset or anything. Actually, I like it that your mind dwells on me so much.” She moved to his other side and started freeing his other arm. She smiled, dipped the cloth and started cleaning his other side. “I worry you a lot, don’t I?”

“Hella does.”

“You know, at first I was scared, now I’m just hacked off. Blasted witch gave me this body, thinks she can take it back any time she wants. Somehow, I’ll get her out of that damn flux stone.” She winced and grabbed her temple. The girl growled. “That’s right, you arrogant snot, I’m getting rid of you unless you learn some blasted manners.”

“Daena?”

“Sorry,” the girl said. “She objects to the idea, but as long as I don’t get emotional and lose control there’s nothing she can do about it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, that’s right, I’m boss of this body, so just shut up. Damn sneak, if you didn’t want to be trapped in here, you shouldn’t have hid yourself in the flux stone.”

Bannor swallowed. “Daena, you’re scaring me. You’re talking to yourself.”

“Uh huh,” the girl rumbled. “I’m not real happy about it either.”

With considerable effort, Bannor forced his stiff muscles to get him to a sitting position. Without the splints his arms hurt even worse, the ugly rips in his skin where the bones had once punctured through his skin remain angry and red.

The banquet hall was empty except for them. The packs and other traveling paraphernalia were still lying on the floor. “Where did everyone go?”

“Some went for food, others clothing, Sarai and family off arguing someplace … or at least that’s how it was when they left.”

Bannor raised an eyebrow. “She left you in charge of me?”

Daena shrugged again. “Everyone was still here when they left. No-one except her is worried about us being alone. Besides, there’s a dozen Valkyries ten paces down the hall.”

“Actually, there’s one in the room,” a strong level female voice said from behind them.

Bannor turned to see tiny Millicent, the Valkyrie commander striding in. She now wore an even more formal uniform than the one they saw out in the streets; this one a glossy satin blue with silver and gold chases filigreed up the sleeves and down the front of the surcoat. The many sheaths for knives, swords, rib hooks, and other weaponry shone with mirror polished brightness. Her white wings appeared to have been dipped in rainbows, and they glistened in the candlelight as though encrusted with tiny jewels. Even though she looked far smaller than any of her sisters, she possessed a presence that more than filled a room.

He nodded to the Valkyrie. “Lady.”

Millicent gave him an acknowledging nod and one to Daena. “Idun and Thor have assigned me to get you healthy enough for trial and keep you out of trouble once you are.”

He rubbed at his eyes. “Keep me out of trouble? I don’t make problems—they come find me.”

Millicent smiled and brushed at her dark hair. She removed her spectacles from a pocket, flipped them open and gracefully slid them on. The woman blinked silver-gray eyes at him. “Either event is of no consequence. It is additional turmoil we desire to minimize.” She fingered the glasses further onto her nose, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a piece of parchment and read something. “Idun, Thor, and Sif have mobilized their main contingents and they have already arrived outside the city. Heimdall and his guard joined them a bell ago. Balder’s wife Nanna arrived, she helped treat him and Forseti. Both are now recovering. Balder’s forces arrived only moments ago, along with Frey, Freya, and Thor’s birth mother Jord. My understanding is that T’Evagduran and Kalindinai are meeting with Frey and his wife. I have advanced notice that a contingent of Freyr-kin are on their way here as well.”

Daena folded her arms. “Why all these warriors? I thought we were trying to resolve things and prevent more war. With so many soldiers around isn’t that likely to start a new conflict?”

Bannor nodded. “Don’t they think this can be resolved peacefully?”

Millicent pursed her lips and shook her head. “They do not trust the Jury. All of that group have lost face, and no-one knows exactly how much coercion was used to force their cooperation. The armies are to—” She sighed and her wings fluttered in agitation. “To keep things honest.”

Daena snorted. “Or take advantage of an opportunity.”

Millicent shrugged. “I do not endorse the chaos, I merely enforce the rules as I am allowed. I much prefer law and order to this constant squabbling.” The Valkyrie straightened her shoulders, drew herself up to her full fifteen hands in height, and drew a breath. “My woes as an advocate are not the issue of the moment. Our focus is to have you healed so you may defend yourself if need be.”

Bannor scowled. “Defend myself?”

“Aye, this is trial is it not? I have yet to attend one of these affairs where blows were not struck. Your group has stung egos aplenty, so there are bound to be tempers and much gnashing of teeth during the deliberations.”

He felt his stomach go leaden. His tone sounded as flat and exhausted as he felt. “Marvelous.”

“Goodman, I don’t think you realize that there’s probably worse in store for you than the trial.”

Bannor laughed. “Oh yes, like what?”

The Valkyrie eyed him with a knowing smile. “One of my informants overheard part of the King’s entreaty to Frey.”

“Frey has nothing to do with me.”

The Valkyrie pulled off her glasses and gestured at Bannor with them. “He does if he’s the Freyr-kin authority who will be presiding over you.”

“Presiding? You mean in this judgment?”

The Valkyrie grinned. “Oh no, totally unrelated. This is much closer to home for you, Friend.”

“What then?”

Millicent slid the glasses back up on her nose and blinked at him. “Frey would be the one to judge yours and Sarai’s suitability.”

Bannor let out a breath. “Lady Millicent, you aren’t making sense to me. Suitability for what?”

“What else?” the Valkyrie answered. “Marriage, of course.”

I’m not real fond of drowning. Come to think, I don’t know anyone else who is. So, what kind of frelled up idea is a restoration spring that you have to drown in to be healed?

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 52
Restoration

« ^ »

Marriage. Bannor shook his head. He didn’t have room in his thoughts for that right now. How King T’Evagduran and Kalindinai did, he couldn’t imagine. Their conflict with the gods of Asgard wasn’t over. If the King and his family survived to get back to Titaan, then they might have the leisure of worrying about ceremonies, legalities and such. He found it hard to believe that the serious-minded king would get sidetracked by something so trivial when compared to their survival.

“Bannor? Did I lose you?” Millicent asked in her strong voice.

Startled, he blinked and focused on the tiny Valkyrie. She met his gaze, gray eyes glinting behind her spectacles. Wings gleaming like rainbows, she fingered one of her many knives and smiled. For someone so small, she spoke in big tones. He didn’t doubt she could make herself heard half a league away if she chose to. “No, you caught me by surprise as you intended.”

Arms folded, Daena sat on the banquet table. The thick scalewood planks creaked under her weight. “That explains the argument they were having.” She rubbed at the corners of her glowing eyes. “They want to make sure the baby has the proper name before returning home.”

He frowned. “They should focus on making sure the baby has a life. We could still lose control of this situation. Who knows what the Jury will do?”

Millicent fluttered her wings. Light reflected off her feathers, making colorful reflections cascade across the banquet hall. “Speculation is indeed without merit at this time. However, my task is to get you healed and ready for trial. I see lady Daena has done some of the work. With her assistance, I would like to finish.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

“Daena, your help please, I do not wish to cause him further injury.”

The auburn-haired girl nodded and the two of them assisted him off the table. Holding onto his belt, they kept him standing and guided him into the hall. The corridor outside ran out of sight in either direction radiating into dozens of doorways and adjoining passages. Weapons, coats of arms, war tapestries, and murals were interspersed through the space without any evident organization.

In the corridor, it became harder to breathe, the air abruptly thinner as if they stood high atop a mountain. Icy drafts blew down the corridor bringing with them a raw greasy scent like old tallow.

One of the things they’d discovered shortly after entering the citadel was that the interior of the massive structure was far larger than indicated by the exterior. Dozens of halls stretched for huge distances that couldn’t possibly fit within the confines of the castle. In their short walk through the strange and varied architecture, Bannor never saw a window that looked into the city. From their windows, the gods seemed to be able to perceive every reality except the one they lived in.

Bannor drew a breath of the rarefied, strange smelling air. He focused on keeping his stiff legs moving as Daena and the Valkyrie helped him along.

“I appreciate your help, Millicent.”

The Valkyrie shrugged. “I’m only following orders.”

“You were nice to us before the orders.”

“True.” She smiled. “Courtesy and kindness wisely invested pay handsome returns in cordial allies. I prefer banking friends to incurring a debt of enemies.”

Even though it hurt to make the effort, he grinned at her. “Very poetic.” He turned as Millicent indicated they should enter an archway on their right. Not expecting more than another passage, he continued. “You could have been a bard…” His words trailed off. The sound distorted as it traveled into the space beyond, diffusing into a domed circular chamber big enough to hold a small castle.

“Whoa,” Daena breathed.

Equidistant around the periphery, eight granite caryatids carved to resemble Valkyries with their wings and arms upraised, appeared to support the hundred pace high ceiling. A mosaic resembling a cloud-mottled sky stretched all the way around the dome. On their left, it depicted star-dotted ebony heavens tinged orange with the shades of dawn. The image took on tones of azure blue and grew brighter as the viewer’s gaze was drawn to the opposite side and the brilliance of full noon. From there, the golden hues softened to become the reddish blush of dusk, then the indigo of a starry night as the scene wrapped back and blended with the beginning.

The artistry alone would have given Bannor pause. The reflection of the colorful dome on the mirror of the water rippling in the cistern made him draw a breath in awe. Artisans had poured their soul into the construction of this oasis of beauty concealed in the heart of Gladshiem’s war-like ugliness. Trees, flowers, and grass filled the huge arboretum, arranged around the lake-sized depression to give the impression of some exotic coastal lagoon. From a gap in the left wall, water churned down a cascade of rocks into the pool.

Millicent drew them toward the center of the chamber. A few steps inside, a breeze stirred around them, making the leaves flash and rustle. Birds chirped and dove among the branches, and bloom-skimmers fluttered around the glistening rosettes of fragrant star-blossom and ruby-petal. The place felt so warm and welcoming, Bannor shuddered at the thought of having to leave.

“I don’t know about curing injuries, but this place sure is a balm to my eyes and ears.” He wished Sarai were here. She and her family would all have appreciated it as much or more than he did. “How come we weren’t brought here in the first place? We all could have rested easier.”

Millicent sighed. “This is one of the Chosen’s few sacred places, built by us for our own kind. While most do not mind sharing, others are less generous. They had to be persuaded that it would be in our best interests if your people sheltered here where you are less likely to be—” She frowned. “Misplaced.”

Daena blew out her cheeks marveling at the scenery. “I understand not wanting to share.” She narrowed her eyes. “Misplaced? Is there something we haven’t been told?”

The Valkyrie commander shook her head. “Nothing to worry over. With the houses of Idun and Thor at stake, as well as your lives, extra caution is wisest.”

Bannor snorted. “As cautious as you can be when gods are involved.”

She rolled her eyes with sigh. “The Chosen are well aware of the pitfalls.”

“So where do we find healing here?”

She pointed. “It’s an upwelling near the waterfall over there. Come.” She and Daena helped him in the direction she indicated. Together they labored over the landscaped rises, pushed through brush, and stepped around trees. Upon reaching the alcove at the back of the chamber, Millicent dragged Bannor straight toward the churning water.

“Hey, we’re all still dressed!” he protested.

“Come on,” Millicent said, pulling him back into motion. “I’m not disrobing in front of you, and your mate would kill you if you stripped in front of Daena.”

Knowing she was right, he relaxed and let himself be towed in. He braced for the water’s icy caress but none came. The liquid splashed up around him feeling neither hot nor cold. He felt almost weightless as he waded away from shore towed toward the center by the two women.

Daena’s brow furrowed. “This water—feels—strange.” She raised her wet hand and scrutinized it with narrowed eyes. “It’s magic.”

“It is a renewal spring,” the Valkyrie remarked. “It is where we revitalize ourselves.”

Bannor started to say something then moaned and sank down.

Frowning, the auburn-haired girl gripped his shoulder. “Bannor—?”

“Okay,” he mumbled in a weak voice. His eyelids had grown heavy and the water felt so comfortable and warm.

“This is what he needs,” Millicent said. “Curative magic has been holding him together for so long, his body has almost forgotten how to heal itself.”

Daena blinked and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Ummm—feel—sleepy.” She folded as though suddenly boneless.

Standing waist deep in the water, Millicent removed her glasses, flicking the moisture off them. “You endured a lot yourself.” The Valkyrie shook her head. “The dramatic effect the spring is having on you shows how much damage you have sustained and how young that body is. The joining between yourself and Hella must have created an entirely new form. Interesting.”

Bannor struggled to focus. His view of Millicent blurred. He felt his face slipping into the water. The liquid crept into his mouth and nose. A shocked sense of drowning caused his body to lurch and spasm. He clawed for balance, trying to get a footing on the shallow bottom.

Millicent shook her head. “Tsk Tsk, you’re really going to wish you had relaxed.” Millicent reached out and gently took his cheeks in her hands and brought her nose down so it touched his. Wide gray eyes gazed into his. “Don’t question. Breathe the water.” She pushed his head under.

Bannor shook himself free with a gasp. “Breathe the water!?” he sputtered, feeling his face grow hot. “Do I look like a fish!?”

“The water cannot injure you. In fact, you must breathe it in order to be healed.”

“That’s crazy,” Bannor growled. “Right Daena? We—?” He looked over his shoulder, then whirled around. “Lords, she’s gone!” He’d seen her sink down, but never imagined she’d become unconscious! That heavy immortal flesh obviously floated little better than a rock.

Millicent blinked. “There is no cause for concern. As I told you, she is in no danger. The chamber is built over a fold. She probably slid into a grotto.”

The Valkyrie was crazy! “Damn.” Bannor thrust his head into the water, peering into the crystalline depths of the cistern. Past the ledge where Millicent stood, the depth increased to the point that even in the clear water, the bottom became indistinct with shadows. He looked for a silhouette or some flash of color, but she’d vanished. Without a current, she should have sunk straight down. Shadows streaked the bottom, but not enough to conceal something as sizable as a person.

Drowning. Immortals still needed to breathe. The body might not be injured, but without air there wouldn’t be consciousness or life. What a horrible fate; to die over and over as the body tried to regain consciousness, took in water, suffocated, healed and started the process again. Was Millicent insane?

He came up again, and let out a breath. “She’s disappeared!”

Millicent sighed. “I know it is difficult to accept, but air breathers cannot drown in the spring. The panic you feel is instinctive. To be frank, it does hurt at first, but then it’s okay.” She pushed her glasses into their pouch. “Look, I shall prove it to you.” She slid down into water.

“Millicent…”

His words came too late, her head was already under. She closed her eyes, obviously composing herself, then opened her mouth and inhaled. She immediately began to twitch and jerk, but finally grew still. Opening her eyes, she drew what was obviously another deep intake of water and blew it out again. Staring at him intently, she continued to breathe as though she were drawing air instead of liquid. “See?” she bubbled from beneath the surface.

An aquatic Valkyrie, now he really had seen everything. “I don’t—”

A splash sounded behind him followed by a loud gasp, then spitting and coughing. Bannor turned in time to see Daena thrashing on the surface, expelling the fluid that had filled her lungs. “Ugh!” she choked out. “What—happened—?” She shook her head and wiped at her eyes.

“Do you feel all right?”

“*kaff* If breathing water is—*kaff*—okay!” She stroked over to where she could stand.

Behind him, Millicent rose above the surface and with noticeable effort exhaled the fluid. She coughed a few times but seemed in little distress.

The young savant scowled. To Bannor, she looked different. Her hair and skin had taken on a different lustre. The girl drew a breath, her stormy expression giving way to a smile. “Now that you mention it—I feel great!” She flexed her fingers experimentally. “I don’t even ache from the fight.”

Millicent put a hand on his shoulder. “Would have been easier, if you’d just trusted me. Knowing what you have to do actually makes it harder. If you let the water put you to sleep, or if you just suck it in; it is much easier.”

Bannor scowled. He had almost drowned in the ocean a fortnight or so ago. That fear of suffocating beneath the waves was still vivid in his memory. The feeling of asphyxiation had shocked him awake when the warmth and magic of the spring had lulled him to sleep.

“Damn it,” he growled. “Why do I always have to do things the hard way? Is there any oth—” He stopped at Millicent’s head shake. “Spit,” he muttered.

~*~

It took the better part of the bell to finally force himself to do what Millicent had done. What appeared easy required incredible self-control. Each time he steeled himself to go through with it, a panicked sense of impending death made him burst to the surface. He ended up having Daena and Millicent hold him under until he was forced to take a breath. Healing or not, those brief instants of terror he did not want to experience again soon. He would rather drink dragon whiz than face that drowning sensation.

~*~

He lay in the grass staring up at the painted sky, listening to the sounds of the birds and the far away echoes of voices. His body still felt rubbery from the excitement and the healing process itself. His bones had mended but remained soft like a baby’s. It would still be a while before he could feel recovered. The most important thing was that the pain was gone. As he relaxed, he realized his jaws had been aching with fatigue caused by gritting his teeth.

He’d lost track of Daena and Millicent. They’d wandered off.

Though he preferred not to, his mind went back to the Jury and Odin. Which would be stronger, their fear of the All-father or their fear of Thor and Idun? Bannor didn’t delude himself into thinking that justice, fairness, or truth were factors in the upcoming trial. It would boil down to power, profit, and spite. If spite won out or Odin had some unbreakable hold over them, the fighting would start all over again. He prayed that reason and logic would somehow prevail, though in his stomach he knew it was a vain hope. The only consolation was that now he could defend himself.

As he stared up at the dome, a face slid into his view and glowing violet eyes looked down at him. Silvery hair sparkled and fluttered in the breeze as Sarai pushed the strands back from her angular face. His mate had cleaned up and discarded her bloody clothing. She wore a blouse and skirt of deep blue velvet that hugged her supple body. As always, in his eyes, she was beautiful. He didn’t say anything, but sighed at the sight of her, and smiled.

Sarai smiled back. “You look comfortable.”

“Sure am. Join me?”

She grinned. “Absolutely.” She knelt and kissed him. Her lips tasted like salty nectar and he hugged her tight against him. She lay in his arms for a long while, her face pressed into the curve of his neck. With a sigh, she pushed away and rolled onto her back next to him. “Great view.”

“Marvelous,” he agreed.

She lay, not moving for another long breath and sighed. He saw her part her lips as if to say something, but she stayed silent, eyes intent on the mural high above them. She sighed again. “We have a problem,” she said in an even voice.

He drew a breath. “Of course.”

“It’s something we can fix, though.”

Bannor shook his head. “We’re thinking about different problems then.”

She laced her fingers over her stomach and bit her lip. “Probably.”

A humming went through the trees, and the grass around them vibrated and whistled as a gust of wind blew through the chamber. A circle of light spilled around them making the ground spark and glow. A male voice, edgy and clipped came from behind them. “Problems you say? You two have more problems than you know.”

They both spun toward the sound.

When he recognized the green and yellow of the trickster lord, Bannor’s body went icy. “Loki! Haven’t you had enough? Leave us alone.”

The god ran a hand through his slick black hair, his lined face set in a hard expression. “In good time, Mortal.” Folding his arms, Loki fixed them with his dark gleaming eyes. “For the nonce, I am here to parley. A fell wind is blowing and it carries a stench with it I care not to stomach.”

Sarai’s hands were balled into fists. Her jaw muscles worked as she forced her words to stay level. “What is this ‘stench’ you’re talking about?”

“It is the stench of death, Pretender,” Loki growled. “It is burning eyes and vicious teeth hungering for the blood of those immortal and not.” He paused, thin lips pressed to a line. “It is the iron-knuckled fist of Ragnarok, and it is knocking on our door.” The god laughed, a maniacal cackle. “Doom is on its way fools, and it’s coming to take us all…”

Someday Loki will get what’s coming to him. I hope we don’t have to wait until Ragnarok for it to happen.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 53
Ragnarok’s Child

« ^ »

Standing on the grassy hillock before the renewal spring of the Valkyries, Bannor and Sarai confronted Loki, the trickster lord. Eyes fiery with malice, knife thin body trembling, Loki stood with his finger pointed at them in accusation. His words still echoed through the huge cistern chamber in an eerie tremulo, reflecting off the mural covered walls and statuary. The iron-knuckled fist of Ragnarok knocks on our door. A sulfurous smell was threaded through the scent of flowers and rich loam that filled this safe haven. Bannor’s chest felt heavy, not with fear, but with great exhaustion. When would it ever end? Every time they thought they might be done with this place, some new threat would raise its head to assail them. He was tired of Loki’s deceptions, threats and harassment. Sarai stood next to Bannor, body stiff, hands balled into fists. She took a step, bringing her shoulder against his.

“Ragnarok?” Bannor repeated. “Loki you are insane.”

“Garmtur, insane I might be, but the prophecy I know well. The twilight of Aesir lords begins with the death of Balder. That event has occurred.”

“He isn’t dead, just paralyzed!” Sarai snapped, fists on her hips.

“Fools. Prophecies are rarely literal, his physical body may continue to live, but as a creature he is dead to the world. He is the beginning. You and your fellows hasten it along. My daughter is the scout for that phalanx of death, but she—” He glared at Sarai. “She is the undoing of us all!”

Bannor reflexively stepped in front of his mate. “She wants nothing to do with your kind.”

“I am not blinded by love like you, Ka’Amok.” Loki growled. “From the moment we met, I have called her pretender. That is what she is. She desires the immortal spark and will never relent in her search. What she seeks to bring into the world will be the end of everything we know.”

Sarai’s eyes flashed and she folded her arms. “And why exactly should we care about what happens to the pantheons?” She snorted. “What have you contributed to the universe that your kind should be—ack!”

Loki thrust a hand toward Sarai, and threads of his magic lashed around her faster than Bannor could counter them. She choked and gasped as though powerful hands were locked around her throat.

“We need not justify ourselves to a seditious thief,” Loki rasped. “You survived our previous encounters at my leisure—that reprieve is at an end.”

Heart racing, Bannor willed himself into his Nola sight. He swung his arms grabbing up all the threads of air and stone he could. He used them like a wedge and forced them into the loop of magic Loki had wrapped around Sarai. With a twist of will he energized the cords causing them to expand. The force shattered the rigid structure of Loki’s magic in a flash of blue-white sparks, filling the air with an acrid odor like that of an snuffed candle.

Sarai gasped and staggered, taking gulps of air and clutching her throat. When she wavered as though she might fall, Bannor caught her around the waist. After making sure she was not seriously hurt, he turned a glare on Loki.

The god’s cheek twitched, apparently surprised at how easily Bannor had countered his attack. “Loki,” he snarled. “You’ve got one chance to back off. Otherwise, I swear, I’ll turn you inside out.”

The immortal glowered at them. “Garmtur, you must be under the misconception that I’m afraid of—”

In the middle of his words, Loki’s head jerked back and his whole body was bowed into a painful curve. Daena shimmered in view behind the trickster holding onto the tail of the god’s black hair. Flames burned in her eyes as she lowered her face close to the immortal’s ear. “Perhaps you would more afraid of me, eh, Father?”

Loki snarled. Muscles stood out on his slender frame as he struggled against the pressure she applied. “Daughter! What … urrgh…”

Daena doubled her fist in his hair. “You disappoint me,” she rumbled in an echoing voice. “I told you these people were mine.” She jerked on his hair making him grunt. “I meant it.”

“Let go,” Loki commanded. “You don’t want to fight me.”

“Fight?” Daena laughed. The harsh sound made Bannor’s skin prickle. “Father, are you so eager to die?”

“You can’t—huuurrrgh!”

Daena swept the feet out from under him, her arm lashed around his throat in a choke hold. She leaned close. “When I was weak, it took a score of the Bloodguard to handle me. Now, I am freshly renewed, and you are very alone.” She licked her lips. “I would have let Bannor at you, but I made a threat that I intend to make good on.” She reached a glowing hand over the top of his head, fingers spread to impale. “Shall I demonstrate?”

The immortal gurgled and writhed. Giant cords of elemental force spiraled into him, and glaring blue light surrounded his body. The ground moaned and cracks shot through the rocks. His skin shimmered and became dragon-hide gray. The ground gave way beneath him, and he sunk into the dirt past the ankles. His voice took on a metallic echo. “You do—not—dictate to me!” He shook himself loose, leaped back, and gestured. “Die!”

Bannor grabbed Sarai, and dove down the side of the hillock as bright white light surrounded Daena as well. The air around the auburn-haired girl turned black, and Bannor felt the hair all over his body go stiff. “Oh frell! Cover your face.” He shielded his head as the air boiled. The room shuddered as hundreds of energy bolts licked into Daena in a pounding fury of detonations. Steam and dust plumed upward. Smoldering rock and fused clods of dirt came pelting down in a smoking rain. “Daena!”

Sarai picked herself up. “Carellion. Did he..?”

The curtain of vapor diffused into the air, revealing at totally unphased Daena. The young savant stared at Loki. “Are you done?”

The immortal’s jaw dropped. “By Fenris…”

Daena didn’t wait for him to finish. She moved so fast the air cracked around her. Leaping up, she brought her fist down like a hammer and drove the black-haired immortal like a nail. The ground shook and a crater of fused soil and rock appeared where he’d been standing instants before.

Hovering a pace off the ground, the savant surveyed her handiwork with a stony expression.

Bannor cringed, his chest tight at the display of such incredible power. She’d become so strong, so fast. “Oh lords…” He pulled his gaze away from the riveting sight to check on Sarai. “You okay?”

“Yes, thanks,” she rubbed his shoulder. “Immortal skin or not, that would have shredded me.” She rubbed her throat, staring at Daena. “Bannor, what’s happened to her? How did she—?”

“Don’t know.” He shook his head. “Frightening. It looks like Hella has the full power of a first one now.”

Sarai looked around. “What happened to everybody? Things are exploding, the ground is shaking, and not a soul has come to investigate.”

Daena appeared to hear her words, and oriented on them. “Loki cast a web of isolation around the chamber. No one came, because no one heard.”

“You came.”

The young savant shrugged and gave them a wide grin. “I’m special.” She settled back to the ground, her feet sinking past the ankles in the burned turf. Looking down into the crater she said, “it appears Loki has decided to retreat.” She looked up and came toward them. As she moved, her body shimmered, the silvery color changing back to its normal coppery-gold tone. Her steps had stopped sinking into the ground when she paused a few arm-lengths away. “Disagreements aside. Loki was right, Sarai’s child does mark the undoing of the pantheons.”

Bannor’s eyes widened. “How?”

“Her baby will have the same potential as myself. She was trying to make sure of it by having me live in her body—”

“Daena!” Sarai let out.

The young savant paused, raised an eyebrow and continued, “Sarai was thinking ‘immortal’ when she allowed herself to get pregnant. She simply didn’t realize that she’d already succeeded.” She rubbed her chin. “I look forward to having a sister.”

“Daena,” Bannor asked in a quiet voice. “Is this you talking or Hella?”

“It’s both of us.”

Bannor shook his head. “Daena would never call Loki ‘Father’.”

The woman pushed out her lip. “Good point. Still, she is fortunate to have me. Look how many times that I have helped you. She is a child, Bannor. A child in the body of a juggernaut. She has no idea how to use what she has been given.”

“Some of us would breathe easier if it stayed that way,” Sarai muttered.

Hella nodded. “No doubt. I would be afraid of me too. Rest easy though, I am on your side. I have to be.”

He snorted. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Gaea. My power issues from her now and she watches me. To continue to enjoy my new privileges, I must protect my darling nephews and nieces.”

“Bannor,” Sarai said in a low voice. “Does that make any sense at all?”

He frowned. “Actually, it does. It’s in keeping with some things I learned about the nature of savants and immortals before we came to Gladshiem. Hella and I explored it further before we found Daena. Wren knows more…” His voice trailed off. “That’s beside the point. You can’t just keep taking over Daena like this. It’s making her crazy!”

Hella studied her glowing fingertips, rubbing them against the fabric of her blue and gold tunic. “Can I help it if she loses control? If she learned to share, she would not be so inconvenienced. I come when there is need.”

“No insult intended, but you aren’t needed now.”

“None taken. Surely, you cannot begrudge me a little conversation?”

Bannor only stared at her. What were they going to do? How could Daena possibly banish a creature so firmly in control? Perhaps Hella was telling the truth; as long as her power issued from Gaea, she must side with them. It sounded like a ploy though. If it wasn’t, Hella would find a way to get around it. She had all the time in the universe to figure it out.

Hella sighed. “Bannor, you are no fun at all.” The fire in her eyes faded back to the green glow that usually shone in Daena’s face. The girl put a hand to her forehead and shuddered. She swayed and took a deep breath. After a moment, she raised her head and looked around.

The young woman scowled. “She did it to me again, didn’t she?”

Both Bannor and Sarai nodded.

“Damn her!” Daena grabbed handfuls of her auburn hair and stamped her foot with a ground-shaking thud. “I hate this! Instead of making it harder for her, she seems to do it more easily!”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Sarai offered. “She’s has millennia of experience that you don’t have.”

“I don’t bloody care what she has! I want her frelling out of my head!” She shook her fists and growled.

“Hey, Bannor, are you here?” A female voice, Wren’s, called out from somewhere near the entrance to the chamber.

“Wren, over here!” he called back.

“Good! Coming!” They saw her appear through the trees at a quick jog. She hurried up the hill. “Hey, who put the magic shield around the chamber? I had to—” She stopped and looked at the crater in the crown of the little gnoll. The woman’s brow furrowed and she ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Did I miss much?”

“Aside from Loki getting stomped on again—not much,” Bannor answered.

Wren glanced at the hole again and came toward them. “Anybody hurt?”

Bannor put his arm around Sarai. “Her neck is a little sore.”

“You okay?” Wren asked, looking at Daena. “You look upset.”

The auburn-haired savant folded her arms and snorted. “I frelling wish Hella would have been a casualty.”

“She’s gotten stronger, huh?”

“You might say that,” Daena grumped. “Prisoner in my own damn body.”

“She stomped Loki without even trying,” Sarai added. “She also told us that she was helping us because Gaea insisted she protect her nieces and nephews.”

Wren’s eyes widened. “Really? Interesting.” She quickly masked her surprise. Her tone suggested that it was an important piece of information. “We’ll have to talk about it later. The jury is ready to convene.”

Bannor felt his heart skip a beat. He drew a breath. “I’m dreading this, but I also want to get it over with.”

“My feelings to the teeth,” Wren agreed. “I just know this whole thing will be a mess. Of course, we have to play this game or we’ll never get any peace.” She looked around. “Where’s Millicent? I thought she was watching you folks.”

“A small incident with drowning,” Daena said.

Wren opened her mouth, then stopped with a puzzled expression. “Uh—drowning?”

“Nevermind,” Bannor said, waving his hand. He put his arm around Sarai, and pulled her close. His mate put her arms around his neck and kissed him. He closed his eyes, put his head down against her shoulder, and sniffed the flowery scent on her skin. Finally, he asked, “you ready?”

She rubbed her cheek against his face. “Frelling right I am. Ready to put this all behind us.”

He hoped it would be that easy. He glanced at Daena. “What about you?”

Daena shrugged. “What about me? I’m not on Odin’s warrant. Unless they want to indict me for blasting Loki.”

Wren laughed and shook her head. “If you ask me, you’re in line for a reward.”

“That’s what I thought. Of course, I know they won’t see it that way, especially since I helped you out.” She raised a finger and pointed at them. “You know I’ll put in a good word for you!” She clapped her hands. “Let’s go.”

Bannor gestured to Wren. “Lead the way.”

Given my old profession, I’ve never been very comfortable around judges and law enforcement. A court trial was the very last place I expected to find myself after that battering experience in Gladshiem…

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 54
Court Preparations

« ^ »

Bannor stood in the hexagonally shaped hall of judgment scratching his stomach and looking around. With its weapon-decorated slate walls, beveled ceiling and floor of packed dirt and woodchips, the tremendous chamber looked more like a battle arena than a place where law was adjudicated. Twenty paces up, the rafters bristled with stanchions from which hung hundreds of colorful satin standards decorated with the insignias of the great houses of the Aesir lords and all their subordinate clans. Tall seating galleries constructed of dark scalewood bracketed the stadium-sized chamber on four sides. A semi-circular dais several paces high situated at the head of the room served to give the judiciary members a clear of view of the whole chamber. A massive split-level rostrum built of red ironwood jutted up from the platform and served as the overlord and judge’s stand. Though unoccupied right now, Bannor imagined that Odin often sat in the topmost tier while the presiding justice sat at the lower forward station. Runways extended like wings to the right and left of the central dais. A small six-place gallery had been built on each extension—the seats of the twelve Jury members.

Bannor scratched at his shoulder and wrinkled his nose at the odors of strong ale and musk-cheese laced with the acrid scents of saw-dust, wood and weapon oil. With his stomach already tight, the smells made him light-headed. He drew a breath and let it out slow. The hearing hadn’t even begun and he already disliked the feel of this place. He scratched again at his back and shifted the close-fitting red coat. Here in the home of immortal Aesir, couldn’t they at least find a dress jacket that didn’t itch?

After the initial call to the parties to be judged and a short inquiry, they had been dismissed pending the formal judging. A several bell long closed session that none of the mortals were allowed to attend had been held, presumably to discuss the nature of judgment. Some of the participants were apparently fairly impassioned about the subject, because the ground often shook and the walls hummed with the vibrations of raised immortal voices.

After the closed meeting, Forseti ordered that proper attire be provided for all the participants. He also made sure that adequate food and drink was available to them in the interim. The lord of justice made a point of saying that if any immortal attempted to harass or intimidate the accused, that they would find themselves being judged as well.

The last day had been tense; tight faces, tight bodies, and testy words. They were all people of action, and none of them liked waiting with a resolution so close at hand. One the sources of friction came from Laramis and Irodee. Without battle to occupy their minds, they had become frantic to hear word of their five summer-old daughter, Marta. Before coming to find Irodee, Laramis had left their child in the care of the high priest of the Malanian royal church. Since then, several tendays had passed. Laramis made quite a scene begging the King send a request for news of her, asking him to send word to their eldest daughter Ryelle who had been ruling Malan in their absence. He pleaded with Kalindinai as well, asking them to request a boon of the gods Frey and Freya, the patrons of the elves of Gladshiem.

Wren and her parents stayed busy, working on something for Idun. The golden haired goddess was up to something, but Bannor didn’t catch a hint what it might be. Kalindinai and the King were quiet after their meeting with Frey. They spoke and acted like two people reflecting on an important decision.

Sarai stayed close to Bannor. She too acted more quiet than normal. Daena and Janai spent a lot of time together. The Elf princess still seemed fond of the young savant despite the fact that Hella sometimes looked out of the girl’s eyes. If anything, that seemed to make her more fascinated. Bannor supposed that the princess felt it exciting to play with fire.

Daena herself acted pensive and distraught. Bannor knew it had less to do with their judgment and more to do with her losing control to Hella. The girl was frightened and rightfully so. Though he was not happy with Janai’s possible ulterior motives, the princess was providing much-needed support and companionship.

Both Jhord and Kylie visited with them. Kylie specifically checked on Daena. The youngster was openly appreciative for the concern and any advice the elder could provide in dealing with her problem. The Valkyrie had made some inquiries on Daena’s behalf. The consensus being that her problem would not go away simply by divorcing herself from the flux stone—which in itself would be dangerous. Wren remarked in passing that she knew somebody that could resolve things satisfactorily, but it would have to wait until after things had been settled here. The savant had been so busy with matters for her mother and Idun that she could not be pressed for further information. In the short time that Bannor had spent around Wren, he’d learned that she did not idly make statements like that. If she knew of a solution—it would likely work. He told Daena as much and it seemed to ease her tension.

Hands behind his back, Bannor kicked at the dirt floor and headed back to the entry. He stopped at the arch and looked back into the vast chamber. Much as he ran the thoughts through his head, he couldn’t imagine how this trial would go. Would Thor and Idun march Odin out and decry his actions? How would that track? Could they depose the All-father from his throne? Even if that was possible, would the gods of the Jury let the attack on them go? After all, this time gods did lose their lives. If either Tyr or Vidar had reformed, there had been no word. Not that he wanted to be responsible for their deaths, Bannor didn’t imagine even immortals survived being blown into tiny pieces.

He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and then a deep voice spoke. “You look troubled my friend,” Laramis said. A hand clapped on Bannor’s back. “It looks as if the world entire rests on thy shoulders.”

Bannor sighed turned to see the man. The Justicar was dressed in a formal coat much like his only it was black with silver trim, gold buttons and broad sash. He met the Justicar’s dark eyes. “Feels like the world is on my shoulders.”

“Aye,” the man agreed with a nod, pulling at his mustache. “I understand entirely. I have received news that lifted a great burden from my mind.”

“Marta’s okay?”

The burly warrior grinned. “Indeed. Were our situation less dire, twould be news worth celebrating. It is enough to know she is safe and in good health. Irodee is much relieved, as am I. I cannot tell you how it lightens my spirits to not have to wonder.”

“No explanation necessary. I know how much I fretted when I didn’t know if Sarai was alive or dead. Made me crazy. We’ll get through this and you can hold her in your arms again.”

“Well wished,” Laramis agreed. He clapped Bannor’s shoulder. “Trouble thyself not, my friend. The battle joined in this chamber shall be one of wits, not muscle. Something our allies are in no short supply of. E’n my wife is savvy to the ways of legal matters. We even have a judge who is favorably disposed to us.”

Bannor scratched at his shoulder staring into Laramis eyes and serious face. “I hear what you’re saying. I just have this ache in my stomach that something unexpected is going to happen.”

The Justicar rubbed at the back of his head, a dubious expression coming over his face. “You have that feeling too, eh?”

Bannor frowned. “Survival instinct.”

Laramis clapped his fist into his palm. “Aye. I like not the politics of this situation. I fear twill be as much an issue of saving face and favors owed as anything else with this jury.”

He nodded and rubbed at his chest. Damn, this jacket itched. He noticed that Laramis wasn’t fiddling with his coat.

The Justicar seemed to notice Bannor’s fidgeting. “Tis something else wrong, Friend? You seem—twitchy.”

“It’s this damn coat they gave me. It fits good, but itches like blazes!”

Laramis’ brow furrowed and leaned a bit to scrutinize Bannor. “Tis well made, for that I can vouch.” He pulled at Bannor’s sleeve, then tugged at the tails of the jacket. The man sucked in his cheeks. “Have you worn a formal coat before?”

“About one time more than never,” Bannor grumbled.

Laramis narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin, his voice took a sardonic tone. “So, you wouldn’t know about brushing the coat to get the crease powder out then?”

“Crease powder?”

“Aye,” Laramis’ expression brightened. “Tis a fluid they apply to the coat and pants so the folds are sharp and trim. When the liquid dries it leaves a white dust in the fabric. A good valet usually brushes it out for you.” He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I don’t know how you country folk do it, but getting that powder out first would make it a trifle more comfortable.”

Bannor pinched the bridge of his nose. If this was any indication of the day to come, he was in for big trouble. “Thanks,” he thumped the paladin on the shoulder and headed for the hall. “If you see Sarai tell her I’ll be right back.”

“What shall I say you are doing?”

“Pounding my head against a wall,” he said over his shoulder. “Then changing these clothes.”

Laramis chuckled. “I shall tell her you will be back directly after skull-testing the nearest fortification.”

He waved back. “Right.”

~*~

He went back to the courtier’s area where he’d been given his jacket and trousers. He had them brush the itchy residue out of the cloth. He retired to a dressing alcove and to wipe the power off his skin with a damp cloth and get dressed again. He felt so stupid, not knowing something so basic. He hoped Sarai never found out about it. She would most certainly poke fun at him, saying he needed her help to even dress. That he could live without.

He’d just pulled up his breeches and was fastening his boots when there was a knock at the thin wooden door.

“Yes?” he asked.

The door opened and Sarai stepped in and closed it. Her silvery hair was pulled back into braids she wore a dress of sparkling emerald silk. “Greetings, my One. I suspected I’d find you here.” She came over and kissed him. “Almost ready?”

“Almost,” he said. He paused. “Did Laramis tell you I’d be here?”

She shook her head. “No. I figured you would be though. I had them redo the creases on your jacket this morning because they were sloppy. I had the only lint brush they gave us and you never asked for it.” She cocked her head, smiled, and kissed him on the cheek. “My guess was it would take a couple of bells for you to figure out you’d skipped a step in getting dressed.”

He grunted. “Yes.”

She picked up his coat, brushed at the fabric and picked off a few pieces of lint. “I think red is a good color for you. You’re quite handsome all dressed up.” She held the jacket up by the shoulders. “Let’s get you in. The session will be starting soon. We have to have a strategy meeting with the others before the proceedings start.”

“Strategy meeting?” He asked, aiming a hand at the sleeve she held up.

“Certainly, my One,” she answered. “A trial is just like a battle. You have to scout the enemy. Idun has had the Valkyries, Wren, Euriel, and Vanidaar all making inquiries and discovering information.”

He pulled on the coat, shrugged his shoulders to adjust it, and started fastening the buttons. “To do what?”

Sarai fingered his hair, patting strands into place. “You realize this whole thing is going to come down to a vote by the jury, right?”

“Sure.” He picked up the gloves, and pulled on the first one.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of buying votes, my One?”

Bannor’s brow furrowed. “Of course—in a dishonest election. Is that what you mean? Idun is going to bribe the jury somehow?”

“Shhh!” Sarai clapped a hand over his mouth. She dipped her head against his chest and rolled her eyes. “Darling—a little discretion.”

He gently lifted her hand away. “She can do that?” he asked in a whisper.

“Everybody wants something, my One,” she answered. “Let’s go, there are too many people around.” She stepped in front of him, brushed at his shoulders, adjusted the trim of his coat and pushed the alcove door open. With quick steps, she led him through the busy courtier’s quarters. The men and women looked at them with raised eyebrows as they skipped past. Sarai nodded and smiled to them pulling Bannor faster.

Out in the passage beyond where anyone could hear she thumped him on the shoulder. “My One, when we get back to Malan let’s work on being a little less overt in things we say in the hearing of others—okay?”

Bannor frowned at her. “You act like there are spies everywhere.”

She narrowed her violet eyes and brushed back her braids. “That’s right. We have a saying, ‘every stranger’s ear leads to the hangman’. That’s especially true here. Everyone is potentially an agent of Odin.”

“Okay, okay … I hear you. So, what else do you know about Idun’s plan?”

“Well, Mother, Father, Janai and I were discussing it. We’re pretty sure this whole thing was part of Idun’s plan to begin with. The snag was you blowing Tyr and Vidar to pieces. That wasn’t on the agenda.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Wasn’t exactly my intention either.”

“It’s worked out though. In order to fill the Jury, Forseti needed two new members to replace them. Because of his involvement with Balder, Bragi is out too. The arguing in that closed session that was causing the walls to shake was over who the three to replace them should be. Forseti insisted, and rightly so, that they should be pantheon lords outside of Odin’s sway. Idun apparently jumped on the chance and proposed the most logical choices.”

Bannor looked at her, not really seeing where she was leading.

She gripped his shoulder. “Frey and Freya.”

“Huh?” He scratched his head. “But aren’t they—?”

“The Red Lord of the Elves and his Lady, Bannor. That’s why all the fuss. All along, they’ve been outside this whole thing looking in. On top of that, Odin has been chasing around gray elven nobles and having them tortured.”

“Anyone supporting Odin would be having a fit,” Bannor said in low voice. They turned a corner and descended a flight of stairs. A couple of white-winged Valkyries standing at an archway nodded to them and gestured them through. Bannor glanced back. There hadn’t been guards there before. “So, who’s the third juror?”

Sarai pulled her attention back to him. Apparently, she’d noticed the extra guards as well. “That’s the complicated part. They didn’t select the third yet. From what we heard, that was what caused the most disagreement. Apparently, there are only four other Aesir that fit Forseti’s requirements. Nanna, Balder’s wife, Jord, Thor’s blood mother, Heimdall, and the most interesting one—Hella.”

His stomach tightened. “But Daena is—”

“Right!” Sarai agreed. “The Jury saw her change. They know she’s Hella.”

“They couldn’t want her.” He shook his head. “She said she hates Odin.”

They turned another corner and were stopped and passed through another guarded archway. Sarai fingered the strands of a gold necklace in thought. “Think of the alternatives though. Nanna, will be anything but favorable to Odin after he arranged to have her husband chopped up and paralyzed. Jord was dismissed by the All-father so he could take another wife. Heimdall went over to Idun’s side. Daena just might end up being their choice.” She leaned close to him. “Look at it from their side. Daena doesn’t owe Idun anything, and there’s certainly no love there. She’d be favorable to us, yes, but she’d also be easier to manipulate by Odin’s people.”

Bannor rubbed his forehead. “This gives me a headache. So, I mean is all of this bad or good?”

Sarai chuckled. “Well, if Idun is playing this the way we think—no matter who they choose we can take advantage of it. Daena is actually the least favorable selection, which is exactly why we think they’ll pick her.”

“Can’t she refuse?”

His mate shrugged. “She could—but why?”

“For the reasons you just said, of course.”

“So tell me, Bannor, which would be better. Somebody we don’t know who may be favorable to us or someone we do know who might get swayed against us—but is a potential source of information.”

He blinked at her. “I have no idea.”

“Truthfully, neither do I.” She put her arm around his waist. “That’s why we’re having a strategy meeting.”

They paused at the threshold to the giant judging hall. Four Valkyries dressed in full battle array stood at the door leaning on their swords, wings glistening in the torchlight. He turned to his mate and put his hands on her waist. “You really like this kind of thing, don’t you?”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Mystery, intrigue, and covert endeavors?” She kissed him on the nose. “I love it.” Sarai looked around. “As long as I’m not the one it’s being done to.” She sniffed. “Bannor, it’s our turn for once to chase them around.”

Guilty—I just despise that word. It’s the bane of every guilder’s existence. It should be removed from the language.

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 55
Millicent’s Plea

« ^ »

The giant hall of judgment thrummed with tension. Hundreds of powerful mortals, freyr-kin, and immortals thronged the galleries and other observation areas. Dressed in the formal regalia from dozens of realms they created a dizzying pageant of brilliant clothes, sparkling jewelry, and striking faces. Spectators from far beyond Gladshiem had come to witness the spectacle, creatures of power that parted the ranks of mortals like fishing twine passing through water. Bannor didn’t know the faces, but he recognized some of the names: Ukko, Ishtar, Isis, Athena. There were others that his friends informed him were equally significant. He had no idea this event would become so huge in its significance in such a short time. Why did the lords of other pantheons care about this trial?

He sat in one of the straight-backed gallery chairs holding Sarai’s hand and watching the situation growing ever more complex. He wasn’t the only one the unprecedented attention was confusing. The contingent of the Chosen guarding himself and the others had been redoubled three times. Inside their enclosed gallery alone, there were six Valkyries, and more than a dozen posted outside. Wren and her family, including Idun sat together in knot whispering to one another. Laramis and Irodee knelt in a corner heads leaned together. T’Evagduran, his wife and daughter were seated behind himself and Sarai, passing a bowl of dried fruit back and forth playing a fast paced game of jumping stones on a wooden board. By herself, Daena leaned against the gallery rail, a basket of nuts in her hand. Cracking shells and munching with noisy relish, she watched the spectacle with unconcealed admiration. Occasionally, she’d draw a breath or whistle softly when some particularly impressive figure passed by.

Wings fluttering in agitation, tiny body iron-rod stiff, Millicent stalked back and forth in the partitioned enclosure gripping some kind of script in white knuckled hands and muttering to herself. Daena seemed completely oblivious to the stern glares focused on her back when her nut crunching and periodic noises disrupted the gray-eyed commander’s concentration. Kylie and Jhord stood at opposite ends of the private space, brows furrowed in concern for their ruffled commander. The four other posted Valkyries watched her with wide eyes, faces creased in sympathy.

“Her age is showing,” Bannor murmured to Sarai, indicating Daena.

Sarai smiled. “I don’t know, if she wasn’t taking up two thirds of the rail I might be standing there people-watching too. This turn-out is like nothing I ever imagined. That’s an impressive crowd out there.”

“It’s immense,” Bannor breathed. “How did they all find out?”

“I think the situation might have been helped along—” Sarai nodded toward Wren and her family. “Know what I mean?”

“Why?”

“A way to keep the whole thing honest I imagine.”

“Damn, who in blazes are they?” Daena let out.

Hearing the alarm in the young savant’s voice, everyone rose to look.

Millicent leaned past Daena. She gasped and her wings fluttered.

Idun folded her arms and a muscle in her face twitched. “Eternals.”

As the newcomers reached the center of the judgment hall Bannor caught a better sight of them. Even though well over a 50 paces away, the faintly glowing figures were easily visible towering over courtiers that swarmed around them. One eternal stood ahead of the other two and was clearly the leader of their entourage. Wearing a black hauberk of mail that gleamed like a piece of the night sky, the creature seemed to fill the entire chamber with his presence as he scanned the assemblage with eyes that burned with a silver light. He had dusky skin and wore his waist length hair in a braid. His seamed face with its hawkish nose, broad mouth, and square chin reminded Bannor of the nomadic tribesmen who roamed the plains of eastern Ivaneth.

The other male was as blond as the leader was dark, his androgynous face and slender body were reminiscent of Elves except for the close trimmed mustache and stripes of chin-hair. He wore no armor but instead dressed in a tunic of emerald satin. Stitched in platinum and jewels, the snake-like image of a gold dragon made two loops around his torso, its jaws and eyes stylized into the collar.

The remaining Eternal stood taller than the other two, billowing red-hair piled high on her head and pulled across one shoulder. She wore a body-hugging cuirass of indigo colored leather decorated with starbursts of gold filigree. She surveyed the chamber with narrowed green eyes, the features of her angular face softened by an amused smile.

With a gasp, Irodee broke away from Laramis and rushed to stand at the rail next to Daena. She gripped the wood in front of her, the material creaking under the pressure. “That’s—Nethra!”

“The goddess of the Myrmigynes?” Bannor asked.

Wren who had moved forward in the excitement nodded back to him.

“Who are the other two?” Janai asked.

Nobody answered.

The stir created in their little gallery by the entrance of the three figures was mirrored on the judgment floor. Courtiers went into a flurry of activity like a hive of stinger bugs smacked with a stick.

“Liandra, who invited them?” Idun wanted to know.

“Some of my acquaintances are pretty powerful,” the savant answered. “But none of them are eternals.”

“What exactly is an eternal?” Sarai asked.

“Trouble,” Idun muttered. “Garmtur, look at them with your sight.”

The tone in her voice made Bannor’s spine tingle. He looked—and saw nothing. Not a single thread emanated from them. How could that be? He blinked and dropped further into the other-sight of the Garmtur. He felt his jaw drop. They didn’t have any threads of reality—each eternal was a thread, whole and self-contained. “Frell,” he muttered.

“See what I mean,” Idun said. “Trouble.”

“Amazing,” he whispered. “What do you think they want?”

As he spoke, the leader turned, carefully pushing aside the people milling about him. His glowing white eyes found the gallery where they were sitting.

At the rail, Daena abruptly straightened up as though she’d been pinched. She drew a breath and glanced back toward Bannor with a furrowed brow.

The leader’s gaze shifted subtly and Bannor’s blood turned to ice as those bright eyes fixed on him. His breath caught as it felt like every thread in his being bent toward the powerful creature. In that brief heartbeat of time, all the lines connecting him to Eternity vibrated like strings strummed in a harp. The eternal raised a thick eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a partial smile. He turned away, and began making his way toward the head of the chamber. After a glance at their gallery the other two eternals followed him.

Bannor swallowed. He realized his hands were shaking.

“Bannor, did you do something we don’t know about?” Wren asked.

“My One, he looked right at you,” Sarai said in an awed voice.

“I—” His voice cracked. “I noticed.” He looked at Wren. “I never, ever, want to get one of them mad.”

“What if they already are?” Janai asked behind him.

He shuddered. “Don’t even think it.”

“They’re not mad,” Daena said, her voice causing everyone to focus on her. “They’re looking for something.” She brought her thumb to her mouth and chewed the nail. “Damn, that blond one sure is beautiful.”

Idun pressed close to Daena. “How do you know that?”

The young savant looked back, her glowing green eyes wide. “How? Just look at him. Oh—you mean about them being mad—they told me.”

“They told you?” Wren breathed. “What do you mean?”

“You know, like ‘Hi, how are you? Which one of you is the Garmtur?’ ”

Sarai leaned forward. “And you told them?”

Brushing back her auburn hair, Daena squared herself in front of them and let out a breath. “That big guy is not someone you brush off and tell to mind his own business. He was a gentleman and asked politely.” She smiled and her cheeks colored. “He even called me ‘sister’.”

“Sister?” Idun repeated.

Daena nodded.

“Marvelous,” Euriel muttered. “Three eternals out there, and we have their sister in here.”

“Did he tell you their names?” Queen Kalindinai asked.

The young savant pointed to the figures. “The one in black is Koass, the handsome blond is Foross, and the big lady is like Irodee said—Nethra.”

The Myrmigyne mumbled something and pushed a hand through her hair. Even from his seat he could tell the giant woman was trembling.

“Wren,” Bannor turned to the blonde savant. “How is it you and Irodee know about eternals?”

“Well,” the woman rubbed the back of her neck. “Images of Nethra are carved all over the place in the great tree of Duran’Gravar where Irodee is from. That, and I’m friends with three or four people who work for the eternals.”

“Why would Tal, T’Gor, or Beia ask the Eternals to come,” Idun asked with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know,” Wren said. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be them. When you tell stuff to the Felspars you never know who will get wind of it.”

The goddess frowned and put hands on hips.

“Nonna, you didn’t say not to invite anyone. You said to tell as many people as fast as possible. They were the best choice to spread the word. As it is, I know Zee is going to show up and want to kick my tail.”

Idun pinched the bridge of her nose. “Zee’s retribution is the least of your worries, if we cannot acquit ourselves.” She glanced to Daena. “You are sure they are not angry?”

“I caught the tail end of what they were communicating amongst each other,” Deana said, frowning. “It doesn’t make much sense, something about etherflux, rifts, and time distortion.”

“Rift.” Bannor snapped his fingers. “That huge gate on Titaan. Could this be something to do with that?”

“It was shut,” Vanidaar said. “Idun helped us do it.”

“Could be a law thing,” Janai muttered. “The leader had that shortclothes-in-knot paladin look to him.” She winced and bowed toward Laramis. “No offense intended.”

The Justicar half smiled. “None taken milady. I agree. He does carry himself with official purpose. Not unlike an inquisitor seeking to discover the facts of a crime.”

“Well, that certainly doesn’t help us.”

“It may work to our advantage, actually,” King T’Evagduran said in his deep voice. “These eternals may have any number of purposes here. Speculation and fear will make likely make the opposition hesitant to try anything underhanded.”

That might be true, but Bannor felt all the more uneasy. That eternal had looked right at him. Nothing imaginable made that a good omen.

A crashing sound rang through the chamber pinging off the stone walls with such volume that all the chatter of the crowds halted instantly.

“Let all assembled retire to their seats!” A voice thundered through the hall from the judiciary stand. Attendants standing at the tribune raised green flags and waved them. “This trial is to proceed without further delay.”

Courtiers renewed their frenetic scramble, coaxing dignitaries to their places.

From the head of the chamber, figures began to file out onto the dais. Dressed in white robes with red collars and cuffs, the Jury moved stand at their places in the judgment galleries.

“Where did the eternals go?” Janai asked.

“I don’t see them,” Daena reported. “They went straight to the stand and around back.”

“Daena hasn’t been called,” Wren said. “Does that mean they decided against using her as a member?”

“Not necessarily,” Idun answered. “The eternals showing up at the last moment may have scrambled communication a bit.” She turned to Millicent. “It’s time to be advocate, Advocate.”

Millicent straightened and pulled at her spotless uniform. She adjusted the glasses on her face, and composed the feathers of her wings. The Valkyrie commander swallowed. She looked at the parchment she’d been reviewing and shoved it away in a pocket with a grimace.

“Is there a problem?” Idun asked.

The tiny Valkyrie peered up at the goddess through the thick lenses of her glasses. She let out a breath. “We needed more time to prepare, and less unknowns. This plan is more of an attempt at misdirection than a strategy.”

“You were with us when we made it. You agreed it could work.”

“Yes, it might work—we can still be undone if the Bloodguard advocates for Odin get confident and try and expose our less-than-legitimate practices in currying favor among the jurors and those testifying on our behalf. You invited that audience to discourage Odin’s entourage from coercion and openly airing his recent indiscretions, but that sword can cut us too.”

“It will still come down to survival and the lesser of two evils,” Kalindinai said. “That’s really the crux of this thing.”

“Aye,” Millicent agreed. “That is the argument I plan to use should our recent ill-advised—” She glanced at Idun. “Actions turn to bite us. It’s all I have.”

“That and we didn’t do anything to incur such an attack,” Bannor muttered.

“How this started has become irrelevant in the face of later events,” Millicent informed him.

“Maybe so,” he said. “In the borderlands, after a bar-room brawl, it’s the idiot who picked the fight that pays the damages and wergild.”

“We’re a long way from there, Bannor,” Millicent said. She nodded to everyone, then stepped out of the gallery and onto judgment floor.

“That’s for certain,” he said in a low voice, watching her go.

Millicent’s movement drew a vanguard of four Valkyries out of the wings who fell in step behind her. As the wedge of winged warriors crossed the floor, the chamber quieted. Bannor noticed that another entourage of five black-winged Bloodguard had emerged from the far side and were also making their way toward the stand at the foot of the judging podium.

He swallowed. “Damn this makes me nervous.”

“We’re all in this together, my One.” Sarai said putting her arm through his. She pressed her warm body against him and he felt her shivering. The members of the Jury still stood in front of their seats. Bannor recognized the two red-haired elves that must be Frey and Freya. The other members of the Jury that included Odin’s wife Frigga looked noticeably agitated, some of them pulled at their white robes and others rubbed at their faces. The upset of the pantheon lords was echoed in his savant perception, their magic was wrapped around their bodies in twisted knotty arrays that reminded him of a dog with its tail between its legs. Had something happened with the Eternals? The twelfth juror’s spot remained conspicuously empty.

A soft blue glow appeared at the tribune, and a figure solidified out of the light. Forseti dressed in black robes with gold stitching at the neck stepped forward out of the illumination. He raised his arms and the room quieted to faint murmuring. The god of justice looked down to the Valkyries. He pulled a gold hammer out and struck something on the podium with a resounding boom that made everyone in the chamber jerk.

“These judgment proceedings are now convened!” He shouted in a voice that made giant chamber hum. “I stand before all as a fair and impartial servant of the Aesir lords. I am Forseti.” He raised his fist and slammed it down on the podium with a crash. “I am justice!” He peered around the room and the hundreds of observers. “I request the forbearance of all. Normally, we open with the advocates stating their grievances. However, because this is one of the most significant gatherings in the last twenty millennia, I have chosen not to hear their opening statements.”

This caused a rumble of hushed voices to start up. The two advocates stiffened in obvious surprise.

Forseti waited for the room to calm a bit. “No slight is meant to the oratory capabilities of either side. In this unique situation, the biases of both sides are rather clear. In the interest of time and focusing on the issues extant, I will present the arguments before us.”

More murmuring surged through the crowd.

Above Forseti on the overlord’s platform, a shimmering disk appeared. One at a time, the three eternals stepped out of the shining mirror surface. With folded arms the three of them took positions like sentinels guarding a vault.

The lord of Justice glanced up at them and drew a breath.

“Let the recorders transcribe for all eyes that this high Aesirian court convenes to determine the following: One, the guilt or innocence of parties to be named in the slaying of Hecate of Olympus. Two, the validity of charges citing house Idun, its allies and assigns with treason and collusion against the Aesir lords. Three, the validity of charges citing house Idun and its allies with the murder of Aesir lords Tyr and Vidar, and the unprovoked assault on members of Odin’s assigned Jury. Fourth and last, the validity of charges citing Odin’s unfitness to the seat of Asgard.” He raised his hands. “These are the issues before us!” He looked down to the two Valkyries. “Does the advocacy for Idun agree that these are the issues of consequence?”

“We do your Honor!” Millicent called out in her battlefield voice.

“Is Odin’s advocacy in concurrence?”

“We are your Honor!” the Bloodguard advocate boomed.

“Recorders,” Forseti intoned. “Heed these pleadings and transcribe for all eyes. Advocacy for Idun, are you prepared to state your plea to these charges?”

The Advocate drew herself up. “We are so prepared, your Honor.”

Forseti’s voice rose. “Charges and pleas shall be duly noted without delay.” The god of justice waved his arms and a column of light struck down around Millicent. The lord’s voice took on a deeper more resonant quality. “Advocacy for Idun, you now stand in the light of judgment. On the issue of the murder of Hecate of Olympus, how do you plead?”

The Valkyrie canted her head back. When she spoke her words seemed magnified a dozen times. “Guilty.”

The word was like a punch in the gut. Bannor’s heart seemed to stop. He wasn’t the only one in the room who seemed surprised. Shock and dismay was written on the faces of everyone including Idun.

“On the issue of treason and collusion, your plea?”

“Guilty.”

“On the issue of murder, your plea?”

“Guilty.” The Valkyrie commander removed her glasses and pressed them into a pocket. “Guilty to all charges.”

It’s a damn good thing I’m healthy. If I had a weak heart, just the surprises sprung on me just about every day would have killed me long ago…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 56
The Advocate Eternal

« ^ »

Guilty.

The word rang in Bannor’s head like the nerve-wracking thrum of a holocaust bell. The sound resounded through the hall of judgment, quickly lost beneath the rumble of the voices raised in surprise. The huge wooden galleries stirred as people shifted and whispered to one another.

Bannor’s heart felt clenched in a fist as he stared across the chamber toward where Advocate Millicent of the Valkur stood in the light of judgment having just proclaimed them guilty of everything they most definitely had not done.

“I can’t believe it,” he forced the words out through tight lips.

“When did we agree to admit guilt, Lady Idun?!” King T’Evagduran blared, launching to his feet.

“Tis’ a wrongheaded strategy, if indeed it is a strategy,” Laramis growled, stepping forward to the gallery rail and gripping it. “No good can come of this!”

“I don’t understand,” Idun said, her face expressing as much surprise as anyone else. “I cannot think that she would so deliberately betray us!”

Even Forseti seemed somewhat taken aback by Millicent’s proclamation of their guilt. “The Advocate for Idun does understand what she has just stated? That those for whom she Advocates are indeed guilty of all of Odin’s charges?”

“Aye, your Honor,” Millicent pronounced flicking back her wings so they glistened in the light shining down from the domed ceiling. “We do.”

This caused another ripple of whispering to go through the crowd.

Bannor noticed movement among the Eternals standing in the overlord position above Forseti. The leader Koass turned to the other male. The blond Eternal shrugged. Red-haired Nethra raised her chin and looked in the direction of their enclosed gallery. Though he couldn’t see it, he sensed her frown.

Forseti quickly got over his surprise. He gestured and a beam of light speared down from the ceiling illuminating the black-winged Bloodguard standing next to Millicent. “Advocate for Odin, you now stand in the light of judgment. How do you plead to the charges that Odin is unfit for the seat of Asgard?”

Towering over Millicent, eyes narrowed in suspicion, the red-armored Bloodguard regarded the smaller Valkyrie for a moment, then focused on Forseti. Thrusting back her wings, she raised her chin. “We, the advocacy for Odin submit this is a false and totally unsupported claim your Honor!” she boomed.

Forseti sighed. “So noted, Advocate.”

The god glanced between the two advocates. “Since your opening statements were bypassed, I now offer the opportunity to provide support for your pleading.” He focused on Millicent. “Advocate for Idun, do you have a statement?”

“Aye, your Honor,” Millicent responded in a solemn tone.

“Proceed.”

The Valkyrie turned slowly in the lit circle. “I am the advocate of Idun. I am the speaker that mitigates the law for my goddess. It is not just any law I mitigate—it is Odin’s law.” She put a fist to her chest and looked in the direction of the Eternals. “Long before I started advocating, I served as a warrior. As there are many warriors with us today, I am certain most will acknowledge it is not a warrior’s task to question their orders or the rightness of the law that justifies those instructions. Our job is only to enforce those laws and carry out our orders.” She turned to the audience, raised a fist and spread her gleaming wings. “I heard a great deal of dismay when I admitted the guilt of those for whom I advocate. Indeed, I am certain there are hands striving for my throat this very moment.”

“She’s right about that,” Sarai muttered next to Bannor. She laced her fingers in his, and he gave her hand a squeeze.

“Shhh,” hushed Kalindinai. “I think I see where she’s headed with this.” The Elf queen looked to her husband and thumped him on the shoulder. The King stared at the tableau with a stony expression.

Millicent continued after a brief glance back at their gallery. “Esteemed guests and respected members of the Jury. The biggest question here is Odin’s fitness to rule. It is by the measure of Odin’s partial laws that we stand accused! As an advocate, I cannot stand before this distinguished gathering and lie! Nay, by Odin’s skewed criteria we are indeed guilty. By any other right-thinking law, there is no doubt we would be acquitted.”

Frigga, the wife of Odin, shot to her feet from her position in the Jury. Her gold robes sparked as she thrust a finger at Millicent. “Fie, Advocate!” She blared in a voice that rattled the walls. “There be no skewing in a law that disavows murder! How think you to dismiss the slaying of our comrades!”

Millicent paused, smiling as if the goddess’ outburst were welcome. “Most honored Frigga and any who think the battlefield incident to be an act of murder, I offer this explanation. First, let us be clear, the Jury confronted Idun and her assigns specifically in response to Odin’s claim that they had slain Hella. Now, this is key,” she pointed a finger and made a slow circuit. “Lady Hella, in fact rose up before Odin and swore she had not expired and was in fact was quite alive. We shall invoke her testimony later and prove this. Despite Lady Hella’s statement to the contrary, and even after the demurral of Tyr, his second, Odin ordered the immediate execution Idun and her people. I stress now, this is after Lady Hella warned the Jury that the charges were unfounded and that such a clash was unwise. Each for their own reasons, the Jury members attacked anyway. Odin knew he was challenging a formidable force. After all, Odin’s initial indictment was for their collaboration with the Garmtur who allegedly ended Hecate’s life by himself. Odin displayed no regard for any of this.” She dropped her hand and faced Frigga with a sad expression. “The calamitous results of the battle are a matter of record and not in dispute. The advocacy for Idun regrets the harm inflicted, but honestly…” Millicent held her hands out to the audience. “What would YOU do if twelve pantheon lords and ladies came at you after having been ordered to kill?”

Millicent paused to let the murmuring of the audience calm. She slapped her hands against her sides. “Odin had over a hundred Bloodguard securing the area and sixteen officiators blocking any retreat. So running was not an option. Surrender meant death. What else could innocent people be expected to do? When attacked, they fought back. That is self defense—not murder. While the loss of Tyr and Vidar is unfortunate, it is a logical consequence. We pardon if this sounds droll, but in a fight to the death—someone usually dies. Crying foul because you did not expect your side to lose is simply seeking to level blame for a foolishly self-inflicted wound. The simple truth is that if Odin, whose rulership is now in question, had not given the order to attack—Tyr and Vidar would not be dead.”

Millicent turned and looked directly into the eyes of the Bloodguard advocate. “Let me reiterate. Odin indicted Idun with the murder of Hella and ordered the Jury to confront her on that basis. When Hella revealed herself to in fact be alive—he ordered the execution without compunction. If anyone should be accused of murdering Tyr and Vidar—it is Odin. We shall prove and support that this act of poor judgment is merely one instance of host of excesses that include abuse of authority, unlawful torture, and dishonorable conduct. These provable transgressions are the basis upon which we base our claims against Odin.

“In closing, let me say that if, in fact, Odin is determined to be unfit to the seat, then Idun and her assigns should be acquitted. Though we admit guilt under Odin’s capricious laws, we claim nothing but total innocence under the light of clear reason and fairness. That is all. Thank you.” Millicent bowed to Forseti.

All around the chamber a clamoring arose and people turned to one another.

“Oooh, she’s good,” Wren breathed shaking her head and looking back to her family.

Idun let out a breath. “I swear the child just took a millennium off my life.”

Bannor felt his heart thudding. Why couldn’t Millicent have shared that little bit of planning with the rest of them?

Sarai’s hand was still clamped on his. She relaxed, but there was still a frown etched on her features.

Bannor noticed the lead Eternal nudging his blond peer and indicating Millicent. The other nodded and rubbed his chin. Nethra put a hand on Koass’ shoulder. He turned to her. After a moment, the red-haired Eternal vanished in a shimmering of white light.

His stomach tightened. The Eternals were up to something. Bannor moved to Daena who still leaned on the gallery rail. The whole time, the young savant’s attention remained focused on the powerful creatures.

On the floor, Forseti cleared his throat and clacked the hammer on the podium. “Order please. With all respect to Advocate Millicent’s theatrical delivery, this hearing must proceed apace. Advocate for Odin, do you have a statement?”

The Bloodguard advocate glared at Millicent. Her dark wings fluttered in apparent agitation. “Indeed we do, your Honor.”

“Proceed.”

The woman brushed back her short black hair. “We who advocate for Odin are concerned with justice.” She made a fist and looked around the audience. “Our primary objective has always been to maintain order. Esteemed guests, and well regarded Jury.” She swung around and pointed in the direction of Idun’s enclosed gallery. “There sits an agent of sedition and unrest. She harbors those who would seek to bring chaos and disorder to our land. Odin foresaw this and took appropriate action to incarcerate and control these seeds of destruction before they could blossom into the murderous killers on trial today.

“Unfortunately, they twisted the minds of right thinking loyalists, and engineered an escape. Time and again, they were offered the opportunity to surrender, but slapped away the hands offered to them. Ultimately, when cornered, they unleashed vile forbidden magics that resulted in the dissipation of both Tyr and Vidar. One needs only look at the fields outside of Asgard to see the violence that these creatures are capable of. Blood.” She swung around with her fist upraised. “The blood of twenty score of my kindred sisters is spread about those rocks. Are these model citizens that the highly decorated commander Millicent advocates for? I think not. Judge for yourselves. See the mayhem that follows these creatures wherever they go. Look at it for what it is. Chaos! Ladies and lords, understand that my righteous colleague is caught up in this as well.” She gestured to Millicent with a mincing bow. “Her words, while pretty enough—perhaps even convincing—are in the end, only words. It is action that should convince you—action and evidence. You need only to gaze beyond the gates of Asgard to see the verity of this.” She crossed her arms in front of herself and bowed first to the audience and then to Forseti. “We hope that justice will recognize the most evident truth in this matter. That is our stance. Thank you.”

“Aie,” Laramis muttered. “Much as I am loathe to admit it, the lady speaks with both skill and conviction. Despite its fallacy, tis a most convincing argument she makes.”

“She’s not bad,” Wren admitted. “Millicent will have her hands full.”

On the overlord’s platform, Koass put a hand on the blonde eternal’s shoulder. After a moment, the other male winked out.

Now, Bannor felt certain something bad would happen soon. He touched Daena on the back. The girl flinched and stared at him with wide eyes.

“You okay?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Fine. This is all quite a show.”

“You have any idea what the eternals are up to?”

“Not really.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I think they realized I was listening in. They started shielding their communication so I couldn’t hear them.”

Worse and worse, creatures of such incredible power were capable of anything. What did they want? What were they trying to accomplish here?

Forseti pounded on the podium for attention. “Now that we have heard the statements of both advocates, we will proceed to corroborating testimony.”

Koass stepped forward to the edge of the overlord’s platform. He spoke in a low voice that seemed to saturate the air throughout the huge chamber. It did not seem loud, nor did it shake the walls, but it had a compelling, bone-rattling deepness. “Your Honor, a moment of forbearance please.”

Forseti turned and looked up. “I—If you wish, Lord Koass.”

Koass smiled and his dark eyes gleamed. “I only wish to ask the esteemed advocates a few questions.”

“While not our standard procedure, it is not unreasonable. Does either advocacy object?”

Millicent stepped forward quickly. “We will answer any question the Lord might ask. We have nothing to hide.”

Odin’s advocate looked toward the enclosed gallery from where Odin no doubt watched. After a pause, she drew a breath and stepped next to Millicent. “We—we will answer.”

“Excellent.” Koass said in his smooth, penetrating voice. “To all who do not know me, I too advocate law. I am the Advocate Eternal, I speak the law of Eternity—I make peace in the currents of time.”

“See!” Janai whispered. “I told you he looked like a paladin!”

Kalindinai made a shushing gesture.

Koass went on. “I could not help but be moved by the fine words of these ladies. However, there are some issues related to this matter I would like illuminated.” He looked down at Millicent. “Advocate for Idun, can you explain why Idun sent her granddaughter to retrieve the Ka’Amok Garmtur from Titaan without the knowledge of her daughter Euriel?”

Millicent stiffened. “Eternal Koass, I have no specific knowledge of that.”

In the gallery, Euriel turned and stared at Idun. “That’s right, I’ve been meaning to take you up on that…”

The blonde goddess made a shushing gesture. “Yell at me later. Listen.”

Kalindinai who had severely rebuffed Wren’s actions back on Titaan frowned. Wren took responsibility for the decision to interfere with Hecate’s plans.

Koass raised his chin. “Humor me, Advocate, speculate if you will.”

“Milord, speculation is not admissible,” Millicent answered. “From my knowledge of Idun, it’s likely she knew Hecate sought the Garmtur, and wished to protect him.”

“Ah,” Koass nodded. “Or perhaps utilize him in some fashion.”

Millicent pushed her glasses up on her face and folded her arms. “I am not privy to Idun’s thoughts, so I am not qualified to say, Milord.”

“Granted,” the Eternal admitted. “However, when her daughter Euriel and Vanidaar Kergatha arrived to help fight Hecate, they were already following a well conceived design—were they not?”

“My knowledge of this is only peripheral, Milord, but yes, my understanding is they were given specific instructions.”

“Those instructions included direction in dealing with Hecate, shutting the rift on Titaan, and retrieval of the Ka’Amok Garmtur, correct?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Speaking as a commander, doesn’t this seem like a rather elaborate plan to have been devised on the spur of the moment?”

“The coordination does suggest careful strategy.”

“With the recovery of the Garmtur being so central to their instructions, it seems likely that Idun had specific intentions for him.” Koass put a hand behind his back. “We shall put aside that speculation for the nonce.” He looked to the other Valkyrie. “Advocate for Odin. To you I have only a few simple questions.”

“Lord?” the advocate nodded.

“Advocate, do you know of Odin’s request to torture the members of the Kergatha family?”

The Bloodguard advocate coughed. “Milord, I—” She hesitated.

“Come now, Advocate, in Odin’s court this order is practically common knowledge. Is it possible that the Advocate for Odin was unaware of this fact?”

The advocate winced and pressed her lips to a line. “No, Milord.”

“So, then you were aware of Odin’s order to torture the prisoners?”

“I—Yes, I was,” she answered in a tight voice.

The rumble went through the crowd. While the torture order was commonly known in Odin’s court, obviously the myriad guests did not know of it.

“So, when there is no information to be gained from a detainee. Is torture a typical arrangement?”

“No, Lord, it isn’t.”

Koass rubbed his chin. “So, then why would Odin make such an order?”

“Milord, as advocate Millicent said, our speculation is irrelevant.”

“Granted. What if I were to march Hella out here, the one who received the torture orders, what do you suppose she would tell us?”

“Milord, everyone’s speculation is irrelevant, especially if it incriminates one on trial. By Odin’s law, he has the right to make such an order. It is not my place to question or speculate about his motivations for anything.”

“Well said, Advocate,” Koass said. “It is not your place to question. However, Forseti’s commission is charged with doing so.” Koass fingered his braid and scanned the room with glowing white eyes. “In the last century, Lord Odin has alienated an increasing number of his loyalists. I have personal knowledge of this because my wife is Megan Kyreel, the retired high Valkyrie matriarch who served Odin’s brother, the Vanir Lord Ukko. Through friends among the Chosen, she knows well the dispute between them and the Bloodguard. That dissention resulted in the carnage at the gates. For decades, Odin has allowed this conflict to build unchecked. I am certain Idun’s advocate will provide support with many other instances that show a waning concern for maintaining the peace.”

The Eternal glanced in the direction of the enclosed gallery where the All-father sat. “So, was Odin really seeking order? The preemptive capture of Idun’s family and subsequent torture suggest a far different motive. It is a question worthy of pondering. Idun is not blameless here. The extensive plan to retain the services of the Garmtur, suggests she had something like the Jury confrontation in mind. She simply didn’t know that Odin would strike so quickly.” Koass bowed. “I have had my say. I thank this court for its forbearance.”

“I don’t understand,” Sarai said. “Are they here to help us?”

“Not that I can say for sure,” Laramis said. “Methinks Lord Koass is as he said, an advocate for law. He sees a judgment in progress and simply feels compelled to provide objective insight.”

“He knows a great deal of what’s been going on,” Idun said. The goddess glanced at her daughter, granddaughter, and son-in-law. “Daena?”

The auburn haired girl looked back from the rail.

“Have you been telling them other things?”

“Me?”

“I’m not looking at anyone else. Have you been communicating with them telepathically since they first acknowledged you?”

“Well…”

“She’s proven helpful in sorting this mess out.” A booming female voice said from the back of the gallery. From a shimmering in the air, the huge eternal Nethra stepped out. The shimmering winked out behind her with a hush of air.

The two Valkyries nearest her had already bared their weapons and braced themselves for combat. Kylie and Jhord also stood with swords ready.

Nethra glanced at the flaming weapons. She narrowed glowing green eyes and sniffed. “Girls, you stick me with those things and I’ll have to hurt you. I’m not here to fight.”

The eternal was an overwhelming presence that made all of Bannor’s savant senses reel. The creature’s heartbeat was a thunder in his ears. The sound of her voice sparked threads and made his whole body resonate. There was no way they wanted to get in fight with this creature. She could annihilate everyone in the gallery with a snap of her fingers.

“Desist,” Idun growled at the Valkyries.

The winged women backed up letting out sighs of relief. Swinging on an eternal was apparently not high on their list of things to experience.

Smiling, Nethra looked right and left. “Some plucky girls in your service.”

Idun nodded.

Bannor started to shift position and his leg ran into an obstruction that hadn’t been there moments before. Irodee knelt in prostrated supplication mumbling something in Myrmigyne almost too quietly to be heard. He noticed Laramis was also staring at the effect Nethra was having on his wife.

“Actually, Daena’s cooperation is a nice change. Prevents us from having to knock heads together to get the information.” She nodded to the girl standing at the rail, who simply stared with wide eyes.

“What do you want here?” Idun asked.

Nethra raised an eyebrow and brushed back her flaming red hair. “Actually, I came to borrow one of my followers.”

By Bannor’s feet, Irodee’s mumbling abruptly stopped. The way she stiffened, he wasn’t sure whether she was having a seizure or had defiled herself.

“Irodee Skyesteel,” Nethra said. The big Myrmigyne cringed. “Your goddess has need of you.”

The first time I saw an eternal I thought ‘that’s it we’re all dead now.’ Guess it’s a good thing I was wrong. Still there are times being under their scrutiny that I just wish I would die…

—Liandra “Wren” Idundaughter Kergatha

Chapter 57
Nethra’s Offer

« ^ »

For the eighteen beings standing in the small enclosed gallery, it seemed as if time stopped. Outside of the enclosure, before the eyes of hundreds of spectators from dozens of realms, a trial for their lives inexorably played out. The huge stadium-sized hexagonal chamber vibrated with tension as the call for the first corroborating testimony went out.

With Nethra the eternal standing in their midst, nobody moved or spoke. The giant red-haired creature with glowing green eyes stared at them, a hint of smile turning up the corners of her full lips. With her wide face, pronounced cheekbones, and upturned nose she could have been mistaken for human. However, normal humans didn’t get this big, with eyes lit by a power that went beyond anything Bannor could imagine. He had thought Hecate powerful, and Idun stronger yet, together both goddesses amounted to fractions of the colossus standing so casually before them.

At moments like this, Bannor wished he didn’t have savant senses. Reality itself bent around this creature. It was frightening to contemplate, much less see.

“Irodee,” Nethra said in her echoing voice. “Didn’t they teach you that Myrmigynes wishing to seem worthy in my eyes pay their respects on their feet with their chin up?”

His leg next to the prostrate warrior woman, Bannor felt a tremor go through Irodee’s frame. That might be how a Myrmigyne paid her respects, but it appeared this one had become rooted to the floor.

Laramis crouched next to Irodee and rubbed her back. “My wife?” he whispered.

Nethra brushed aside the Valkyrie nearest her and moved around the rows of seats. Bannor saw tension shoot through Kylie’s body. Her feet shifted into fighting stance. Though she’d dropped the point of her sword, they were still in close quarters with a creature that might be either friend or foe. Now, Nethra was moving, a terrifyingly dangerous monster with unknown intentions heading toward the members of their group.

Bannor tried to will the blonde Valkyrie into immobility as her blade flashed up and she leaped into Nethra’s path.

The eternal stopped with the sword tip pressed against her ribs where it would slide into her heart. She frowned at the flaming weapon that should have been burning her.

“Kylieeee,” Idun growled, putting up her hand in warning. “Desist.”

The Valkyrie squared herself. “I do not care how powerful zis creature eez. We should not allow ourselves to be bullied about or act like mice.”

“I do a fine imitation of a mouse,” Janai murmured, amber eyes round and unblinking. The King and Queen poised next to her ready to act, but unmoving.

Nethra told them she wasn’t here to fight, but was it the truth? The eternal frowned and reached toward Kylie’s sword.

“Don’t!” the Valkyrie snapped, pressing the blade into Nethra’s skin.

The eternal’s eyes narrowed. Bannor’s whole body felt like it turned to ice as he sensed energies stir in the creature—with a sound of cracking air the eternal spun. The blonde valkyrie’s response found only air. In a flash too quick to follow, Nethra had clamped her hands around both of Kylie’s wrists.

Kylie’s eyes were wide as Nethra looked down at her, hands restraining her arms. Bannor saw muscles in the warrior’s frame tighten and quiver. She barely vibrated. Nethra didn’t appear to even notice her struggles.

“I find you extremely cute,” Nethra murmured with a smile. “Some other time I’d love to dance with you. I told you I wasn’t here to fight. I meant it.” She kissed the shivering Valkyrie on the forehead, picked her up like a doll and put her back where she’d stood guard. She let go and pointed a finger at her. “Stay.”

Kylie scowled, but didn’t move. Around him, Bannor felt the others tensing. What could any of them do against a creature this powerful?

“Relax,” Nethra said, looking down to Laramis as she stepped close. “Believe me, if I were here to take heads.” She grinned with ultra-white teeth. “You’d know it.”

“What do you wish, milady?” Laramis asked.

“As I said before. I want Irodee.”

Wren skipped across the room and squeezed next to Bannor to kneel by the unmoving Irodee. “Why?” Wren demanded. “She’s scared to death of you.”

Nethra shrugged. “She’ll get over it.” She made shooing gestures to Laramis, Bannor, and Wren. “Stop hovering around the girl and let her breathe.” She knelt down, still as tall as Bannor when on her knees. “Irodee, I bring word from your mother, Ess. Assist me and you can be holding your daughter Marta in your arms within the bell.”

That brought Irodee’s head up. “Marta?”

Nethra nodded. The eternal’s echoing voice took a soft tone, one that Bannor wouldn’t have thought possible for such a creature. “I just visited Duran’Gravar. I consulted with Queen Targallae to find out about you. She spoke nothing but praise of you. Please stand, I want to see the girl that impresses the queen so much.” She took Irodee’s hands and drew the Myrmigyne to her feet.

Still trembling slightly, the big woman straightened and brushed back her hair. Shivering, she raised her eyes to look up at the eternal. She stood only a hand shorter than the powerful creature.

Nethra pushed out her lip. “Hmmm, you do have my blood in you. A Myrmigyne to look up to—” The eternal grinned. “I see Ess was making one of her droll plays on words.” She put a hand on Irodee’s shoulder.

Irodee managed weak smile.

The eternal looked around. “I will give you all a brief explanation. Most of you arrived here through a rift created by Hecate. Now, as some of you may know, that portal was out of control.” She gazed at Idun. “Idun took the initiative to try and shut the opening—that’s a good thing. However, a rift that size has many layers. Only the aspects immediately threatening Titaan were capped. Much of that chasm persists and threatens the causality of space/time. My colleagues and I would have already resolved the rest except that whenever we shut down one of the aspects they begin to reopen again. Obviously, that’s not a good thing.” The eternal frowned, bent, and glanced out the gallery opening to see out onto the crowded judging floor.

“Investigation revealed to us that Hecate did not make that rift with her own power. She used forbidden artifacts to create it; devices that were designed to cloak themselves from us. It is those machines that keep reopening the layers of the rift. Until those rift generators are located, time/space will continue to be threatened.”

She focused her gaze on Irodee. “I came to you because you have valuable knowledge. While performing a historical scan, we learned of your extended conflict with Hecate’s forces in southern Malan. Your aura shows residual phase energy that can only be acquired through proximity to that equipment. These machines are the size of a barn and need to be imbedded in rock. Do you recall seeing any locations that might have been where they were hidden?”

Brow furrowed, the Myrmigyne stared at Nethra. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes as though in concentration. After a few moments she drew a breath. “Yes. I think—” her voice cracked and she spoke up. “I think I know where they may be. They will still be guarded though.”

“Excellent!” Nethra enthused gripping Irodee’s shoulders. “We’ll deal with the guards, you just show us where.” She turned and fixed glowing eyes on Bannor. “There is another matter of a snarl in space/time that we will take up with you later. That and some causal rules that you altered that are proving to be extremely annoying.”

Bannor stepped back. “Me?”

The eternal frowned. “You’re the only Garmtur here, right? We have a positive track of you carrying yourself and your friends on a half-day chronal jaunt out of the mountains west of that rift, then appearing some leagues northeast. That was bad enough, then later you created giant snarl in reality by trying to slice Hecate out of time.” She looked around. “Added to these other problems, getting this anomaly under control has been keeping us busy for a couple scoredays.” She swung to Bannor and pointed a finger. “One more time trick and our next meeting will be me asking for your head.”

He swallowed feeling a chill. That did not sound like an idle threat.

“Hey,” Daena interrupted. “You do realize a second call is going out? Lady Euriel, Millicent is calling for you.”

The daughter of Idun looked around. “Damn it.” She went to Jhord standing nearby. “Run out there tell Millicent to stall a moment, I’ll be there directly.”

The Valkyrie nodded, leaped down the gallery steps, spread her wings and glided across the judgment hall floor to the Advocate. She leaned down to whisper in the Millicent’s ear.

“Oh yes,” Nethra pointed at Daena. “That reminds me, we need to take you in.”

Daena froze. “What?”

“An heir to Starholme Prime—we can’t let you just wander around until your intentions and competency are determined through an inquiry.”

“Inquiry?” Daena murmured eyes growing large. “Starholme Prime?”

“She knows nothing about that,” Wren said.

“No, but you do, and you have access. That’s why you’ll be standing next to her.”

The blonde savant’s jaw dropped. “What! How—?” She shook her head. “Stupid question, you’re an eternal.”

“Exactly.”

“Hey! But I didn’t—”

Nethra held up her hand. “Save it for the inquiry.” She turned back to Irodee. “So will you help us? We know you’ve been separated from your child for moons. I felt it might be compensation to get her back. She can stay with Laramis while you help us.”

“Wait,” Idun said. “You can’t take her out of here! She might get called.”

The eternal shrugged again. “Make sure she isn’t.”

Laramis took Irodee’s hand. The lines of his broad face were tight with concern. “Are you all right with this, my wife?”

Irodee took his hand in both of hers and kissed his fingers. She glanced up at Nethra and trembled a little. “To have her back with us…” her voice trailed off. Despite all of Nethra’s assurances she looked scared. “I will be okay, simply to know she’s safe with you is enough.” She tapped her right arm where Bannor knew she’d placed the flux stone given to her by Idun. “We can stay in contact.”

At the other end of the gallery, Euriel straightened herself, kissed her husband and hugged Idun. She pointed at Wren and mouthed the word ‘behave’. She stepped down to the judgment floor and headed out to give her testimony.

Bannor shook his head. Too much was happening at once. He glanced up to the overlord’s podium. He noticed that the blonde-male eternal had returned and appeared to be conversing with Koass. Another eternal had joined them, this one even bigger than Nethra. The massive blue-skinned male looked muscular enough to crush a mountain in his hands. A black leather vest hung over his monolithic shoulders and loose-fitting breeches that flared out at the ankle sheathed thick kick-fighter legs. The blue eternal was bald except for a long topknot that stretched down his back. His ears were pointed like that of an elf, but his face was blocky and square with a pronounced forehead, wide nose, and large angular eyes. If not for his coloring, he would have reminded Bannor of the yellow-skinned tribesman who lived and traded out of the steppes and mountains east of Blackstar.

Hands behind his back, the behemoth bent over Koass and the other eternal apparently discussing something.

Euriel marched out to the floor and stood on the dais in front of Forseti’s podium. The light of judgment illuminated the daughter of Idun, making her shiny robes and jewelry glitter and flash.

Bannor trusted Millicent to do her best. The eternals were what worried him. Especially the fact that he, Wren, and Daena were all matters ‘that needed attending to’. The rift was only one of the reasons they were here. The fact that there were now four eternals only solidified that concern.

Bannor noticed that Wren was frowning. The mention of ‘inquiry’ obviously worried her. As well it should. She stepped to her friend and put a hand on her back. “Irodee, you sure you’ll be okay?”

The Myrmigyne nodded. “This is an opportunity.” The big woman looked to the King and Queen. “Since they will take me to pick up Marta, I can carry another message to Ryelle. We don’t know how long things will continue here.”

King T’Evagduran nodded with a smile. “Excellent thought. I know exactly what I wish to send. It will only take me a moment to prepare.”

Nethra rolled her eyes and sighed, apparently she had been prepared for delays but was nearing the end of her patience. She turned away as the King and Queen scrambled to prepare a note. Idun stepped to the rail to better hear the questioning of her daughter. Daena stepped away to let the goddess have her spot.

Bannor could tell that most of her fascination with the eternals had vanished when Nethra made vague allusions to her not being allowed to ‘wander around’. Bannor learned in the army that whenever someone mentioned ‘competency’ and ‘inquiry’ in the same breath—it boded something bad.

The red-haired eternal spoke as though talking to the air and no-one in the room. “Tal, report to my location, I have new orders.”

“What’s she up to now?” Sarai murmured, rubbing Bannor’s arm.

He shook his head and took her hand.

In a handful of heartbeats, his mate’s question was answered. With a sizzling sound, the air directly in front of Nethra split apart as though cut with a knife. The glowing edges peeled back and shafts of bright light blazed out of the opening. A broad figure stepped out of the illumination and onto the gallery floor. The room went dark again with a clap of air.

Everyone focused on the latest invader, hands on weapons. He was big man, about a hand taller than Bannor, with broader shoulders and a lean body that looked chiseled from stone. Intense dark eyes looked out of a broad olive-skinned face with a thin nose and pronounced chin. He wore his long brown hair borderland style, bound into a tail with three gold bands that signified the rank of a regiment commander. He wore no armor other than a sleeveless black tunic and leather trousers, but the campaign tattoos on his muscular arms, and the numerous weapons strapped to his body left no question he was a warrior.

“You sang, boss-lady?” he asked in a deep voice, smiling up at Nethra. He stepped back. “Hey, nice outfit! Going on a date?” He grinned. “Need a chaperone?”

Nethra made an amused shake of her head. “No, Tal, I simply need some back up regarding these folks.” She gestured to the room.

Tal looked around. “Well, damn, with so many beautiful women around why didn’t you ask for back-up sooner?” He bowed to Kalindinai. “Matradomma,” and then dipped his head in turn to Janai, and then Sarai. “Arminwen—Arminwen.” He looked to King T’Evagduran, nodded, and thumped his chest. “Dom’Ista.”

The King nodded to Tal.

Next to Bannor, Wren started to vibrate. “Tal? Tal! It is you!” She burst across the room and jumped into his arms.

The brawny man grabbed her around the waist and swung her around. “Hey, Sharpshooter, damn it’s been a while!” He looked up at the eternal. “See, now this is a proper welcome.”

The eternal gave him a good-natured cuff across the shoulder.

Bannor couldn’t imagine how this man could be so casual with that titan.

Tal set Wren down. “Good to see ya. Remember, the offer stays open, you can be on my Hunt team anytime.”

Wren chuckled. “Not this year for sure. I’ve had enough excitement to last me for a looong time.” She looked back to everyone. “This is Lord Talorin Falor, he helped me get back to my family.”

Tal waved and put a hand on Wren’s shoulder. “Quite a crew you got here a few I don’t know.” He glanced over at Irodee and bent low. “That girl Ziedra has been looking under every rock and rousting everyone to look for you. She’s going to be spanking mad when she catches up to you.”

Wren grimaced and said in a low voice. “I know, I’m not looking forward to it.” In a louder voice she said. “You obviously know the Malanian royal family. That’s Bannor, and she’s Daena.”

“Greets,” Tal said nodding to them. His face turned serious and he looked up to Nethra. “So, Boss, about those orders?”

“Take Irodee to the capital of Malan and bring her child back here. After the girl is secure, Irodee will assist you in finding the sites of those rift generators.”

“Understood.” He sniffed. “Do you expect resistance?”

Nethra wrinkled her nose. “Play it safe. If it looks chancy, call me. Don’t risk damaging one of those machines and having it go crazy.”

The big man punched a fist into his palm. “No worries. Terra and Megan just started their shift and are unassigned, I’ll bring them along.”

“Excellent.” Nethra said thumping him on the shoulder. “The rest I leave to your cognizance then. When the generators are secured, report for new orders.”

The burly man saluted the eternal, heels together with a fist over his heart and a dip of his head. This time it wasn’t mocking or in fun, it was a serious show of respect.

Nethra’s gaze panned around the room, her attention lingering on Bannor and Daena. With a sigh and a shake of her head, she vanished in a flash of light.

Bannor gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to have the eternals considering him a loose end in need of snipping.

Tal looked to Irodee. “Let’s go.” He stepped to Laramis and held out his hand. “She’s safe with me. It shouldn’t take long.”

The Justicar clasped hands and nodded. “Bless you, Sir.”

Irodee walked to the King, took the piece of parchment from him and bowed. She returned to her husband and kissed him. “Be back soon.”

Tal turned away, and pulled a blade off his back. The glittering weapon winked like a mirror as he made a slash in front of himself. A glowing slit appeared in the air, then the edges peeling back. Through the hole, Bannor saw a road leading up to the massive gates of a city. It appeared to be late afternoon, and the sun cast all the rocks and grass in shades of russet and orange. The rich loamy scent of grass threaded with the sharp hint of sweetbark wafted out of the opening.

“Malan…” Sarai breathed. She gripped Bannor’s hand fingers tight on his.

Tal held his arm out to Irodee. “Let’s take this first step together.”

Somewhat uncertain, the Myrmigyne took his arm. Tal sheathed the blade again, waved again and drew Irodee into the opening. As the two of them stepped in, they shimmered and appeared on the far side. Glancing around herself in surprise, Irodee looked back toward the opening a made a fist.

The opening winked out.

Everyone stared where the two had been. No doubt many of them had been thinking how easy it would have been to simply leap through and escape the uncertainty of this judgment.

Bannor swallowed knowing that now they couldn’t escape judgment even if they wanted to. He looked up to where the three eternals were watching the proceedings.

No matter what determination Forseti and Jury came to, the final decision was no longer in their hands. The most powerful creatures in the universe sat above them forming their own judgment. A crawling sense in Bannor’s stomach brought him a numbing conclusion.

Their fate had already been decided.

I would rather have faced three Odins than go in front of that huge audience and that jury. The Garmtur did not grant my wish.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 58
Bannor’s Testimony: The Bloodguard’s Loophole

« ^ »

Throat tight and skin prickling, Bannor kept his eyes straight ahead and forged across the judgment floor. The huge hexagonal chamber echoed with voices raised in excitement. The satin standards waving overhead and the bright clothing and jewelry worn by the scores of audience members seated in the galleries formed a surging, sparkling sea of color. His stomach churned, the sensation worsened by the acrid odors of smoke, wood-chips, and perspiration. Fists clenched and jaw tight, he focused on dais and the circle of judgment where he would testify.

Initially, Millicent planned to call him last, but Odin’s Bloodguard advocate had verbally savaged Euriel, Wren, and Vanidaar. King T’Evagduran and Laramis faired better, both of them being too wise in the ways of courts and judgments to be tricked into making damaging statements. Unfortunately, their lesser involvement in recent events gave their testimony little weight toward either exonerating Idun or incriminating Odin.

Bannor concentrated on shutting out the feeling that thousands of people were staring at him. He did as Sarai and the others advised, controlling his pace and trying not to appear too hesitant or too eager to testify. Eager was definitely not something he was likely to feel. Who in their right mind would want to stand exposed before this throng of onlookers? His nola told him many of these entities were creatures of significant power and some of them were even pantheon lords. Bracing such an audience was bad enough, but he must also face the members of the High Jury who were ready to punish him and the others for murder and treason if they could. Even if the allies of Idun acquitted themselves before the court, they still needed to face the worst of all.

The eternals.

Even though red-haired Nethra had smiled as she spoke in the gallery, he heard in her voice that the Eternals saw the Garmtur as a problem—a mess to be cleaned up. Not only him, but Daena and Wren as well. The idea of being treated like a bothersome stain was not a comforting one. His nola sight revealed that Nethra and her peers were incarnations of eternity whose fortified essences were impossible for him to effect.

Though he was doing everything he could to block out the noises around him, he still overheard snippets of conversations going on in the public galleries: ‘…they say he can kill gods … what kind of name is Butter Stellarfoot? … heard he’s a kept man … someone said he makes love to dragons …’

Irritated, he glanced toward nearest of the speakers. Bannor stumbled as he realized just how many people were staring at him. A virtual sea of faces wearing expressions of curiosity, regard, envy, suspicion and fear—intent eyes of every color and shape seemed to pin his feet to the floor.

“Bannor! Move.” He heard Millicent say on his left. A hand gripped his arm, and forcibly pulled him along. “Eyes straight ahead. You are almost there.”

The contact and the Valkyrie’s voice broke his momentary paralysis. Breathing hard, he faced forward and took more deliberate steps. Lords, he hated this.

“Good. Not to fear, it will be okay.”

“It will not be okay,” he growled low in his throat, keeping his eyes focused forward. “That damn Bloodguard will make me look even more stupid than the others! I still think I should have gone last like you originally planned.”

“We need a good showing now, Bannor, before minds are made up against us.” She squeezed his arm and he met the little Valkyrie’s gaze. Wings angled back, round face composed, gray eyes glinting behind large gold-rimmed glasses, Millicent looked up at him and smiled. Dressed in all her shining blues and silvers, armed with every possible blade that could be of use in a battle, she was a giant terror in a tiny package. “Fact is, without meaning to, Wren and Euriel hurt us. Laramis and T’Evagduran simply weren’t convincing enough. You are the key witness and have the most powerful arguments. If I hold you back, we may lose.”

As they neared the dais, a shadow fell over Bannor and Millicent. He looked up and met the golden eyes of the Bloodguard Advocate. The huge black-winged Valkyrie brushed back her short dark hair and grinned at him. “Good luck, Garmtur,” she thrummed. She raised her chin and licked her lips.

He nodded back but quailed inside. That advocate was dying to have him take the circle. What did she know that they didn’t?

“Millicent, she’s going to rip me apart!”

Idun’s Advocate shook his arm. “I’ll have none of that! Stay focused, damn it. All you have to do is tell the truth. This is like any other battle, only now the weapon is words.”

“I’m frelling unarmed then! The truth is what got me here!” They walked up the dais steps together. He drew a breath and glanced to Forseti. The lord of judgment looked serious and implacable. He made no acknowledgment that Bannor had looked his direction. A movement above Forseti caught his attention.

His gaze locked with glowing eyes looking out of a seamed yet ageless face, the dark-skinned visage of Koass, the advocate eternal. Arms folded, the powerful being nodded to him. A voice, immensely deep and resonant rang in Bannor’s mind, the feeling identical to the way savants communicated between one another.—Trust your counsel, Garmtur, the truth will set you free. Have faith.—Faith!?—He thought back.—I do have faith. I know that witch will twist the truth and hang me with it for sure!—You’ve been hung before. You lived.—The eternal grinned.—I have a good feeling, Garmtur. I trust my feelings.—

Bannor felt his stomach knot. This creature knew even little things about him. A solemn expression on her face, Millicent let go of his arm.

“Focus,” she murmured to him. The valkyrie bowed to Forseti and headed down the steps to take her place next to the other advocate.

At a nod from the Lord of Judgment, Bannor stepped into the circle. He turned and faced the two advocates, and the tremendous throng of onlookers. His whole body felt as if it had turned to ice.

He hadn’t been this tense facing the charge of the High Jury.

Forseti’s gavel smashed down on the podium above him three times. The sound made Bannor jump and his heart lurch. “The court will observe silence now,” the god boomed. When the room did not immediately go quiet. He hammered the podium again. The sounds made Bannor’s whole skeleton vibrate painfully. “I said silence!”

The conversation finally died to a murmuring. Bannor looked across the chamber to Idun’s private gallery. After a moment, he made out the faces turned to him. He couldn’t make out Sarai except for a splash of silvery color. He saw her pattern distinctly in the swirl of threads though. Hers had a cold tension washing through them—concern. He was concerned too.

“Witness,” Forseti intoned. “Prepare thyself.” A sizzling sound filled the air making his skin prickle and his hair stiffen. The metal on his wrists and around his neck grew hot. A bright yellow light spilled out of a circle in the ceiling, cascading down over him in a shower of sparks. “Witness in high court of the Aesir, thy words shall ring true or false in the soothsaying light of judgment. Speak now and enlighten this assemblage.”

He drew a breath and tried to compose himself. He’d seen the four other testimonies before this one and knew what to expect.

Millicent stepped forward, bowed to again Forseti, then nodded to Bannor. “Please state your name and titles.”

Bannor steeled himself and spoke in as clear a voice as he could. “I am—” He paused, startled by how the magic of the circle magnified his voice so that it resounded through the room. He drew a breath and spoke, trying not to look at anything in particular in the room. “I am Bannor Nalthane Starfist,” he said, the sound enhancement making his tone sound stiff and metallic. “I am captain of the first garrison of the Ivaneth borderland ranger elite attached to the western barony of Tenax.”

Millicent nodded. “Very good, Bannor.” She turned and flicked out her wings. “You are also known as the Garmtur, is that correct?”

“The Garmtur Shak’Nola,” he answered.

“The Garmtur Shak’Nola,” she repeated. She turned back to him, and glanced up at Forseti. She pulled off her spectacles with a flourish and gestured at him with them. “That essentially makes you an avatar of reality, doesn’t it? A person who can affect chains of causality.”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

She put her hands behind her back and paced away from him a few steps. “You can also see and control energy, can you not?”

“Yes.” He wiped at his brow. It was hotter beneath the light than he imagined.

“To what degree?”

He faltered. “Pardon? I’m not sure how to answer that. I haven’t received any formal training. I can see energy very well, how everything affects everything else. My control, well … it needs work.”

“A fair and honest assessment.” Millicent made a slow circle. She walked past the Bloodguard Advocate who stood with arms folded, listening intently. “So, you have no allusions as to having mastered your talents?”

“No. I have a great deal to learn yet,” he agreed.

Millicent stopped and stared at him. “So, if you’re so inexperienced. How could you possibly have slain Hecate?”

“She put herself in a mortal body.” He paused while a murmuring went through the audience. He spoke up to finish. “She couldn’t use her full power. Even so, it was a close thing. If she weren’t distracted I might not have been able to do it.”

“And why exactly did you do it?” Millicent asked.

He froze. “Pardon?”

“Why did you kill Hecate?”

Bannor swallowed. “Because she was murdering my friends. She’d taken over the body of the woman I love, and if I didn’t stop her, she was going to steal the Garmtur and destroy everything.”

Millicent frowned. “Knowing what you know now, do you still think it was possible for her to steal the Garmtur?”

“If you mean could she have gained the power of the Garmtur. Yes, it was possible. I don’t know if she truly understood what she wanted to accomplish. Her plan hinged on coercing me into bending the rules so she could attain the power of the Garmtur. I know if I complied it would have resulted in a catastrophe. I tried to talk her out of it, but she refused to listen to reason. She dared me to try and kill her even.” He shuddered, thinking of those last moments. It made tears well in his eyes merely thinking about that painful decision. Choosing not only to kill Hecate, but his love as well. He drew a breath. “I surprised her.”

The level of murmuring in the galleries rose to a rumble.

Forseti thumped the podium in annoyance.

Millicent folded her arms. “You surprised her. So, if you were barely strong enough to kill Hecate, how do you explain what happened to Tyr and Vidar?”

Bannor frowned. He knew this answer was key. He’d managed not to trip all over himself so far. “Against Hecate, it was a contest of strength. With someone as strong as Hecate, it’s like running around someone with a rope hoping to snare them around the throat. That is essentially what occurred. She let me get hold of her life-line. She didn’t think I was strong enough to break it. With Tyr and Vidar, it was different, I turned their power against one another.”

“How?” Millicent asked, face incredulous.

“Well, just before they charged, I noticed that Vidar was standing his ground to defend Frigga.” His glimpsed the goddess out of the corner of his eye, noticing how she scowled at the mention of her name. “Tyr was leading the charge. I wanted to scramble their powers so they couldn’t contribute to the fight. I twisted Vidar and Tyr’s threads of power and tangled them around each other. My intention was when Tyr charged forward, all the knots would pull tight and both of them would end up more involved in getting loose than fighting in the battle.”

Idun’s advocate raised a finger. “That’s not what happened though, is it?”

“No.” He swallowed. “In the combat, Wren Kergatha and Daena Sheento combined their savant powers and struck Tyr with a powerful repelling magic. At that same moment, Idun nullified the external sources of energy in the area. Tyr and Vidar were already starting to struggle with each other. When Tyr flew backward the slack on their energy loosened then tightened suddenly. That’s what disrupted them. So, actually, no one of us is responsible for their deaths, it was a combination of things.”

“In other words, it was an accident.”

“In that instance, yes.” He drew a breath. He felt his heart still heavy in his chest. He glanced toward where he knew Sarai stood at the rail of the gallery watching him. How he wished he could be standing next to her right now. He forced himself to speak clearly. This part was important that everyone hear. “We knew Odin would confront us eventually, we had already agreed amongst ourselves that we wanted a standoff. We didn’t want to kill anybody—after all, that would have made an already bad situation worse.”

“That would have made an already bad situation worse.” The little Valkyrie echoed walking in a circle around the Bloodguard advocate who stood like a statue. Black feathers ruffled, the big female didn’t look impressed. He sensed she was formulating her strategy. When it came her turn he knew it would be an unpleasant ordeal.

“It did however, get worse, did it not?”

“I suppose. All of the Jury were incapacitated except for Odin and Loki. We tried to get Odin to surrender, but he wouldn’t.”

This caused a stir to go through the room. He noticed that the High Jury themselves were squirming a bit. They knew the truth of this, there was no possible way to deny it. He had spoken it under the light of judgment. Forseti hammered the podium and ordered the audience to silence once again.

Millicent stopped with hands on hips and frowned. “Odin wouldn’t surrender? Everyone in the High Jury was down.” The Valkyrie drew herself up and raised her surprisingly loud battlefield voice. “If you defeated the High Jury, doesn’t that mean you acquitted yourselves by combat?”

Bannor realized his heart was pounding. He swallowed and tried to stay focused. “As far as I understand it.”

“So, what did Odin do?”

“Your Honor!” the Bloodguard advocate blurted in her husky voice. She stepped in, unfurling her black wings and raising her hands. “We have established what occurred with previous witnesses. I fail to see what repetition will add to this proceeding.”

Forseti frowned. “Granted. Advocate for Idun, does this witness have testimony that expands on what has already been revealed?”

“Yes, your Honor, besides being the man that Odin attacked, he was privy to words the all father spoke while he and Bannor were isolated within the sphere of magic.”

The god of judgment rubbed his chin. “In that case, I will allow it.”

The Bloodguard advocate frowned, folded her arms, and stepped back.

“Since my colleague wishes we skip straight to the heart of the matter. Tell us, Bannor, what was the first thing Odin said to you when he had trapped you?”

Bannor blinked, feeling dizzy for a moment. He wanted this to be over. He swallowed, resolved himself and spoke up. “Odin said, ‘I might have lost the war, but I shall win this battle. I have enough strength to keep them out while I do you in.’ ”

Millicent pushed her glasses onto her face. “Did you say anything to him?”

“Yes, I said that he had attacked us. That everyone who had died was his doing and no-one else’s. I said that killing me would change nothing because everyone already knew it.”

Millicent turned her head to one side. “And did he deny what you said?”

“No.”

“What was his answer?”

“He said, ‘Making you dead will make me feel better.’ ”

“Making you dead will make me feel better?” Millicent repeated. She turned to the audience. “These are not exactly the words of a leader concerned over the welfare of those who had just tried to mete justice at his behest. He singled Bannor out simply for his own personal revenge, and for the damage he could inflict on the rest of Idun’s supporters. He could have selected Idun or any of the others. Instead, he deliberately picked Bannor, the most disadvantaged opponent in this fray once isolated from his savant powers. Is this deliberate and callous act, one of honor? Are any of the other statements made by the All-father worthy of the Odin we used to follow? No. We deem this further proof that Odin needs to step down, pending proper review of his actions over the past century.” She bowed to the audience and then to Forseti. “We have no further questions.”

The god of judgment clacked his hammer on the podium. “The advocacy for Idun cedes the witness to Odin’s advocate. Advocate, do you have any questions for the witness?”

The advocate grinned. “Oh yes, your honor. We certainly do.”

Bannor swallowed. He could feel the big woman reaching down his throat already. Millicent stepped back with a nod as the Bloodguard Valkyrie strutted up until she loomed over Bannor like a storm-cloud ready to rain on him.

Ebony wings shining, Odin’s Advocate smiled at him with perfect white teeth, dark eyes glinting. She would have been beautiful if she didn’t remind him of a vampire.

“Captain Starfist is it?” she asked in her heavy voice.

He nodded.

“You have the power of the Garmtur, which means you are a Ka’Amok with the ability to bend reality to your wishes is that correct?”

Bannor stared at the woman, already he detected a dangerous tack to her questioning. “Yes,” he answered with a wary tone.

“You stated to advocate Millicent that you had much to learn about controlling the Garmtur Shak’Nola, correct?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t sure what she was after but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“However, wouldn’t it be fair to say, that what you did to Tyr and Vidar took a reasonable amount of control on your part?”

He felt a cold tingling. “Yes.”

The advocate looked up to Forseti. “Your Honor, some forbearance please, we would like to establish a foundation here. Idun’s Advocate has tried to establish this Ka’Amok as being a thrash-about apprentice with his power. However, it is the position of Odin’s advocacy that all Ka’Amok have an innate mastery of their power to a greater or lesser degree. We have at least four Ka’Amok on hand that we can question as to the correctness of this statement. However, it would save time if Idun’s advocate would simply agree to stipulate that all Ka’Amok are born with at least a rudimentary control of their powers.”

Forseti knuckled his eyes. “Advocate Millicent, will you so stipulate?”

The little Valkyrie looked like she’d eaten something sour. She gritted her teeth. “In the interest of time, we’ll so stipulate, your Honor.”

Odin’s advocate bowed to Millicent then turned on Bannor. “So, you admit it required a fair amount of control to cause the deaths of Tyr and Vidar. What about locating and breaking the Kergatha’s out of Hella’s dungeon? That required control too, wouldn’t you say? How about the attacks on Sif’s Valkyries, that too shows you’re actually fairly confident in what you can and cannot do—yes?”

He felt a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. “I know what I can and cannot do safely, yes.”

“So, Bannor, in light of that, let me ask you this. Would it be safe for you to defeat the circle of judgment used here in this court?”

The question hit him like a brick between the eyes. “Pardon?”

Odin’s advocate grinned. “Let me phrase it more simply. Bannor, could your power allow you to lie undetected while standing in the light of judgment?”

Millicent leaped forward. “Your Honor!”

Forseti slammed the podium. “I understand your objection, Advocate. Given the nature of the witness, I must allow the question. Captain Starfist, answer the question.”

“Perhaps,” he said in small voice.

“ ‘Perhaps’, he says,” the advocate blared circling Millicent like a vulture eyeing a kill. “So, isn’t it possible you could even change probabilities so all of the witnesses for Idun’s advocacy could tell falsehoods without detection?”

A sword thrust straight into the heart of the matter. There was no getting around it or lying. “Yes, it’s possible, but that doesn’t mean I did!”

The dark-winged Valkyrie leered at him. “Yes, Captain Starfist, but it doesn’t mean you didn’t. In fact, it makes all testimony by yourself and the others suspect until it can be proven beyond a reasonable doubt that you have not tainted all the testimony in today’s trial.” She drew a breath and blared, “your Honor, based on the witness’ own admission, we submit that all of today’s testimony is suspect. We request a postponement of the proceedings until it can be ascertained that there has been no tampering on the part of the Garmtur Shak’Nola!”

The god of judgment winced like he’d been poked with something sharp. “Advocate for Idun, unless you have some way to acquit such tampering, I must grant Odin’s advocacy their postponement.”

Millicent rocked her head back. “No, your Honor, not at this time.”

Bannor closed his eyes. He could feel it. This matter would never be resolved. There would always be a new dodge, a new way to twist the truth.

Now, it would be a miracle if they ever saw home again.

I have had the misfortune of fighting more than a score of gods on a half-dozen occasions. I tell you one thing—it doesn’t get better or less painful with repetition.

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 59
Witness Eternal

« ^ »

Bannor stood in the light of judgment feeling a terrible weight of defeat slam down on his shoulders. The audience in the chamber rose into a din of voices raised in surprise and irritation. Postponement. Tampering. This possibility became possible not because of some foolishness on his part, or some unintended word, but from a simple unassailable truth. The Garmtur was in fact capable of doing anything—including pervert the light of judgment the court used to determine the veracity of testimony. His head ached and his stomach twisted. He stared at Millicent in miserable helplessness. The tiny valkyrie dressed in all her shining blues and silvers shook her head, not in disappointment in him, but at not having foreseen the tactic. If Bannor had gone last as she originally planned, the advocacy for Odin might not have been able to use the ploy. By testifying in the middle of the trial, he had played right in the hands of Odin’s advocate. It was clear from speed that she brought this point to bear that she had been planning this strategy from the beginning.

Forseti pounded the rostrum with his hammer and yelled the murmuring audience to silence. “Since the Advocate for Idun, cannot prove that there has been no tampering on the part of the Garmtur, then a postponement must be granted pending an inquiry—”

The Advocate eternal leaned down from the overlord’s platform and cut into Forseti’s words. “Lord Forseti, such a postponement is unnecessary. While the advocate for Idun may not have a way to ascertain whether the Garmtur has tampered with the proceedings—I do.”

Forseti looked up at Koass with a furrowed brow. The eternal looked back with a mild smile on his face, silvery eyes glowing with power. The blond eternal Foross and the giant blue-skinned male Nethra called Garn joined him at the edge of the platform.

Eyes wide, Millicent half-ran half-flew in her haste to jump onto the dais next to Bannor. She took his arm, her fingers pinching down hard. “This might be a reprieve!” she whispered.

“Pardon my asking,” Forseti said in a low tone, “but how will you do that?”

“Well,” Koass said in his deep voice that reached every corner of the giant chamber. He shimmered out of view then sparkled back into being standing next to Bannor.

Both he and Millicent jerked at the eternal’s sudden and silent reappearance. At that proximity, the eternal’s energy felt like a hive of bugs were crawling across Bannor’s skin. “Captain Starfist is the avatar of reality and is still but a pupil of causality’s control. I, on the other hand, am the advocate eternal. I serve as the moderator of reality, and I have worked the threads of time/space for ten times a thousand millennia. I am confident I would sense such a manipulation taking place and I am aware of none such.”

“I see.” The barest hint of a smile cracked Forseti’s grim mask. “Advocate for Idun, do you have any objection to Lord Koass’ corroboration on this matter?”

Millicent put a hand to her chest. “Oh, no objections at all!”

Bannor stared at the eternal. I serve as the moderator of reality. Could this creature really be an intelligence that corrected threads gone wrong? The shear scope, the very idea, made him tremble inside. He remembered how frightening it had been when he realized the full extent of his own power—the ability to shake the underpinnings of time and space. He remembered wondering how one very mortal and fallible creature could possibly be allowed to possess such a hideous capability. Perhaps now he knew, because there were other creatures still more potent set to guard against just such an eventuality.

Odin’s advocate who moments before had been preening in the glow of her own cleverness stormed to the edge of the dais. Black wings ruffled in agitation she held up her hands to the god of judgment. “Idun’s advocacy may not object, but the advocacy for Odin does!” She pointed at Koass. “We have no way to prove or disprove this creature’s credentials. An Aesir judgment is no business of the eternals!”

Koass folded his arms. His voice dropped to low key. “If Odin would like to come out and disprove my mastery and knowledge of reality, he is free to try and do so.”

Odin’s advocate waved a hand in dismissal. “It is well known that the eternals are stronger than the pantheon lords. There is no point in such a contest!”

“Ah—good!” Koass enthused. “Then that makes it much simpler. I declare Idun and her charges innocent of murdering Tyr and Vidar. As those two pantheon lords are not dead. In a few moments, I will produce evidence positive of their corporal existence. I declare Idun innocent of treason because prior to Odin attacking her they had not yet committed any criminal acts.” He clapped a hand on Bannor’s shoulder. The contact made his whole skeleton hum. Heart galloping, Bannor swallowed, feeling all the threads in his being strummed. Through his own knowledge of threads, Bannor knew in that one touch Koass had gleaned all of his secrets. “I declare Bannor Nathan Starfist innocent of murdering Hecate by clear fact of self-defense as already testified to by witnesses here and in the currents of time. I cannot declare Odin unfit to rule, but I can testify to a dearth of poor and self-serving leadership decisions and actions. If the Allfather is allowed to lead, I recommend censure until such time as he undergoes renewal.”

“You can’t make such judgments or recommendations here!” Odin’s advocate screeched.

Koass turned to the Bloodguard and waved a finger in admonishment. “Young lady, I suggest you lower your tone. This is a hall of judgment.”

Next to him, Millicent grinned, obviously enjoying the reaction of Bloodguard as her secret strategy unraveled before her eyes.

“Lord Forseti,” the advocate for Odin cried. “Certainly you aren’t going to let this creature take over your court!”

“Certainly not,” Forseti thrummed, pushing himself to a stand. “Lord Koass, you said you could prove Tyr and Vidar are alive. The court would like to see proof of this.”

“Reasonable.” Koass pointed up to the blue-skinned eternal. “Garn, if you please.”

The huge broad-shouldered male bowed and vanished.

“This will only take a moment,” Koass said. “We would have presented this evidence earlier, but it wasn’t until only very recently.” His silver eyes found Bannor’s and he made a half smile. “That we had enough information to make a determination with any degree of certainty. Assuming they are brought before you, what say we quit wasting time and go straight to a vote? After all, the advocate for Odin said herself there was no point in contesting me.”

The black-winged valkyrie stamped her foot. “Your Hono-rrrr! This—is—is—unseemly!”

“Advocate, I heard your objection. Please be silent. I wish to see Lord Koass’ evidence.”

The dark-haired advocate shut her mouth and glared at Bannor and Millicent as though they had planned this circumstance.

Around the huge chamber, the excitement and dismay rose to a high pitch. People were on their feet and Forseti pounded the podium a few times to settle the audience a little.

Bannor glanced back to Idun’s gallery. It appeared that everyone was squeezed against the rail now. He could read the tension in their threads, the hope and excitement.

“Why are you helping us?” Bannor asked the eternal in a low voice.

“We have interests of our own to protect of course.” He shrugged. His deep voice dropped so that only Bannor and Millicent could hear. “Besides I have never favored petty tyranny or stark injustices such as those trying to be passed off here.” The eternal drew a breath. “Despite the eons, I remember being mortal. I remember the sweet mercies the lash rained upon me for crimes I did not commit.”

As Koass finished his words, the air on the dais to the left of them began to glow. The air split open and four figures appeared in the light. Two silhouettes stood and were much larger than the other two that hunched over. As they stepped forward onto the wooden platform the two figures first recognizable were Garn and Nethra. The one-handed god Tyr, had an arm around Garn’s neck and moved with a pronounced limp. Vidar leaned on Nethra, and staggered the last few steps onto the platform. Both gods looked pale and visibly shaken, their bodies rent with gaping wounds that would have a mortal creature dead in the length of few long breaths.

Gasps broke out across the giant hexagonal chamber, and from Idun’s gallery a small chorus of cheers. The emotion swelled until the whole judgment hall rumbled with excited voices.

Bannor stared in open amazement. How had Tyr and Vidar survived? One look at their threads told him they were indeed the two they met on the battlefield. In fact, their physical injuries appeared far less severe than the harm done to their elemental and magical potential. In that regard, both gods had been crippled. That probably accounted for their inability to return from wherever the eternals found them. Either deity would be lucky to make a spark, much less teleport.

Several members of the High Jury rushed out from their seats as did a dozen or more courtiers. In moments, Vidar and Tyr were assisted off the dais toward the judge’s gallery with a score of valkyries, healers, and other assistants.

Nethra and Garn stepped over to stand behind Koass. A moment later, the blond eternal Foross sparkled into being next to them and the three of them folded their arms and stood like guardian sentinels. With four eternals standing so close, Bannor felt dizzy, their power made a humming go through his bones. Together those four creatures could topple the daystar from the sky if they chose.

“There are your two murdered lords,” Koass said into the chaos. Despite the volume of the thousands of other voices in the hall, his voice broke over all of them sounding clear and distinct. The uncommonly penetrating sound quieted the pandemonium almost instantly. Thousands of gazes were drawn to the advocate eternal as he spoke. “Your lords were injured—yes.” He gestured to the two gods being bustled away. “They were lost—yes. However, they were in no way dead.” He raised a thick eyebrow and his seamed features broke into a smile. “So, lord Forseti, about that vote?”

“Your Honor!” the Bloodguard advocate yelled. “You cannot. It would be totally inappropriate!”

“Inappropriate!?” Forseti bellowed. “Seek not to tell me of inappropriate advocate!”

“This sounds familiar…” Millicent whispered to Bannor.

Bannor allowed himself a faint smile. It was ironic that Bragi had selected those exact words. He glanced over his shoulder to where he knew Sarai watched him. He sensed that now they would be standing together soon and his body tingled in anticipation. All of the threads in Idun’s gallery shone brightly with hope now.

Forseti raised a fist and his voice increased until it boomed and made the walls vibrate. “Advocate, do not think for a moment that I am unaware of what you have been doing. It is clear to me now that your entire strategy relied on this base delaying tactic. So, unless you can come up with a better argument than this rather tenuous conspiracy theory, I am calling a vote now.”

Wings drooping, the Bloodguard advocate gritted her teeth. “Your Honor! I need more time!”

Forseti scowled and spun the gavel in his hand. “I am adjourning momentarily to ask some questions of Tyr and Vidar privately. You have until I return to the podium. I assure you, it will not be long.” He looked up to the audience. “We will have a short recess while the court verifies the credentials of the evidence brought to us by Lord Koass, after which the advocacy for Odin may attempt to show some real foundation for their defense. If no real alternative strategy is forthcoming, then we shall proceed directly to a vote.” He cracked the gavel resoundingly. “The court is in recess for a quarter bell.” Forseti vanished in a flash of light and a thump of imploding air.

The light of judgment shining down on Bannor winked out. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Millicent bowed to the advocate eternal. “Thank you, Lord Koass!”

Koass smiled and nodded. “Honor was served.”

The advocate for Odin stared at them features tight. She pointed at Millicent. “Don’t celebrate yet. It’s not over until the vote.”

She turned on her heel and stalked toward Odin’s gallery, black wings fluttering.

“Not a very graceful loser is she?” Koass observed.

“Odin has rubbed off on them,” Bannor said. He looked toward the All-father’s gallery. He could see the knot of threads that could only belong to Odin. Angry reds and violets pulsated from his aura. “I don’t think he’ll accept the judgment no matter how lenient it is.”

“I’m going to stay on hand for that eventuality,” Koass said. “I would prepare yourself for a rematch, Bannor.”

He was just starting to feel good, but Koass’ words made him freeze. “What?”

“You can feel the anger there, can’t you?” the eternal said, pointing to Odin’s gallery.

Bannor nodded.

“However wrongheaded it might be, he blames you,” Koass said in low voice. He narrowed glowing silver eyes. He raised an eyebrow. “Weed?”

He closed his eyes, feeling the skin on the back of his neck prickle. The eternal could read the threads that well? “Yes, according to him, the Ka’Amok are weeds in his garden.”

Koass made a humming sound and stroked his long braid. He looked back to Garn and Nethra. He said something in another language. The two eternals smiled. Garn laughed and made a fist and his huge knuckles made a cracking sound. The advocate eternal focused on Bannor again. “Go back to your gallery and rest a little. If you have to confront Odin, the odds will be even.”

“My thanks,” Bannor said, bowing to Koass. He clasped Millicent’s hand, then stepped off the dais. He needed Sarai’s embrace right now. As he headed back to the gallery, he glanced toward where he knew Odin was watching him and the angry radiations he detected there. Even? How could that be possible?

As he moved, he felt the attention of the whole judgment hall following him. The conversations in the public galleries were a confused din ringing in his ears. A couple of times things were shouted at him that he didn’t understand, the sources indistinct in that sea of faces and sparkling color.

Sarai, Laramis, Daena and Wren stepped down out of the gallery and walked toward him. He resisted the urge to run, knowing just how many powerful people were watching them. The last steps he took to reach his mate seemed to take forever. His hands were tingling for her touch by the time he could finally put his arms around her.

Bannor put his face into the curve of her neck a breathed her fruity scent. Her body where it pressed against his felt hot. “I missed you,” he breathed.

Sarai squeezed him. “As did I.” She pulled back and kissed him passionately, heedless of all the observers around them. “It’s almost over, my One.”

From the audience, a small cheer arose as well as some scandalous whistles. Sarai looked up, smiled and waved. Large crowds and attention didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest.

“It appears a fair bit of fortune has turned our way,” Laramis said.

“In a manner of speaking,” Bannor responded. “It just worked out that the eternals happen to have a use for some of us is all. Otherwise, I suspect they’d let us fend for ourselves.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Wren said, raising her voice to be heard over the crowd noise. “I saw Koass talking to you, did he say anything?”

“Just that they were helping us out because it served their needs.”

“Wonderful,” Daena grumbled. “What Nethra said about an inquiry didn’t leave me with exactly a warm and cozy feeling.”

“Well,” Bannor murmured. “I think serving their needs is better than being chased around by the pantheon lords for the rest of our lives. If nothing else, Koass is creature of honor, he won’t abuse us.”

“Don’t be so sure, my One,” Sarai responded. She brushed his cheek with the back of her hand, violet eyes shining. “My father is as honorable as they come. With such honorable men, if they feel the goal is important enough, our needs and wants are of no moment.” She sighed. “However, I am with you in that, I would rather serve Koass’ need, than be the target of some pantheon lord’s whim.”

Wren folded her arms. “It’s not like we’ll be getting a choice in the matter any way. They took Irodee to make sure we cooperated.”

“Took her?” Laramis frowned. “Lady Wren, I like not that implication!”

“No?” Wren narrowed her blue eyes and pushed a hand through her blonde hair. “I know it seemed all polite and civil, but that’s just in keeping with the big guy’s style.” She nodded in Koass’ direction. “He’s got an agenda, and he’ll play nice as long as we keep in step. You’ll notice Irodee is not back yet. It’s been a couple bells. They easily could be back by now. I suspect we see her and Marta when they’ve squeezed some agreement of cooperation from us.”

“I cannot believe that such a creature would commit so base an act of coercion,” Laramis said with a growl.

Wren shrugged. “It’s not coercion. It’s coincidence and persuasion. The Lord is far too polished to come out and say it. It’s implied just the same.”

“Come out and say what, Kel’Varan Liandra?” A deep masculine voice said.

The blonde savant stiffened and from the expression on her face, it looked as if she’d choked on her own tongue. She began coughing and wheezing. The woman spun and looked up at the eternal who’d simply flickered out of no-where behind her. Tears streamed down her face. “*kaff* Lord—” She drew a breath. “Koass!”

The advocate eternal grinned. He didn’t further embarrass Wren by pursuing the question. “So, you are Gaea’s new disciple and gatekeeper, yes?”

Frozen like a blackhorn caught in a hunter’s lantern, Wren turned the color of milk. Blue eyes round, she nodded.

“Excellent, you seem a well mannered girl. So, is our green lady well, and tendering the blessings of her love and warm hugs?”

Wren’s mouth fell open. “You know her?”

“I am the Advocate Eternal, and she and Alpha are the progenitors of Eternity. How could I not know her? We’ve had many a lively discussion concerning her wayward children. However, it appears that she did not anticipate this young lady’s appearance.” He bowed to Daena.

Daena looked up at him, her green eyes shining. “Well, I didn’t anticipate it either. It just kind of came and forced itself on me.”

The eternal rubbed his chin. “I see.” He looked toward the rostrum. “Well, it appears we will have to continue this discussion at a later time. Forseti is back.”

They all looked up to see the god of justice take his place on the platform. He whacked the podium. “The advocates and all those whom they defend will stand to center.”

Koass shook his head. “Now, as they say, ‘comes the fun part’.”

Bannor looked to Odin’s gallery and saw the Allfather stepping out. The lord of lightning was dressed in his armor, and held Grungir in his hands. He glanced back and saw Idun stepping from her gallery also armed and armored.

As he saw the two gods converging on the circle of judgment and a final decision, many words came to mind, but fun wasn’t one of them…

“Shaladen” was just a word to me until one was put in my hand. Even after the experience, I can’t really quantify what it means to me now. For a few long breaths I held a star in my hands and it didn’t burn…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Chapter 60
Of Verdicts and Showdowns

« ^ »

Standing beneath the light of judgment all of the players were in place, defenders, aggressors, arbiters, judge, and High Jury. The hexagonal hall with its pennons, galleries, and high walls of stone trembled with anticipation. The thousands of audience members leaned forward on their seats, gazes intent on the tableau. The energy in the air made hair stiff and skin prickle. A murmuring ebbed and surged through the hall as observers speculated on the outcome.

One-eyed Odin, gray hair slicked back, face set and spear glittering stood with his advocate and seven of his biggest Bloodguard. Opposite the Allfather, Idun waited with her chin up and fists clenched around a sheathed battle sword. Millicent stood at her shoulder, the families of Kergatha and T’Evagduran flanking. Feeling naked without a weapon, Bannor stood with Sarai, Laramis and Daena to either side.

On the dais, the four eternals stood with arms folded, looking impassive and impervious. Occasionally, Nethra would lean over to blue-skinned Garn and the two of them would smile at some silently shared jest. It was clear that those two found this whole proceeding somewhat funny. Koass in his black and silver armor and Foross in his silk tunic with dragon emblem were both poised with solemn expressions.

Now standing, the High Jury dressed in their white robes shifted from foot to foot, looking to one another. Of all the jurors, only Frigga stood proud and resolute, her gaze fixed on Odin—her husband. Even red-haired Frey and his wife Freya looked uneasy. Perhaps they like the others sensed the outcome would be unpleasant.

Forseti gripped the sides of the podium as he looked out at the audience and at the faces looking up at him. He seemed to take extra time to compose himself before he spoke. “I reviewed everything said this day and have conferred with Tyr and Vidar,” he rumbled in his penetrating voice. “I have heard little that pleases me. What I and my father experienced pleases me less. Odin’s son Bragi and his attempt to impersonate me was infuriating. I have no proof or evidence of who masterminded the acts taken against us, but there is only one person who stood to benefit from it.

“Idun is not blameless or faultless in this matter, it is fairly clear she intended to confront Odin at a time of her choosing. Minions at her direction have created a great deal of harm and havoc. In my experience, I feel certain that matters could easily have been resolved without bloodshed if cooler heads had prevailed. However, it is clear that a cool head was not prevailing in this court. Spite seems to be the single driving force motivating everything that has happened recently. With that in mind I wish to ask the High Jury to enter its opinion.” He turned and focused on Frigga. “Lady Frigga is the High Jury ready to give its vote?”

Frigga nodded. “We are, your Honor.”

“Please proceed.”

Frigga drew a breath. After being so cool in the face of this trial, her discomfiture began to show—especially with her husband glaring at her. “We of the High Jury have been conferring throughout this discourse. In truth, there is little that pleases us as well. As loyal followers of Odin, we did as bid, and executed as bid—and suffered of it. We find fault with Idun’s methods, but not her motivation. Testimony and general knowledge shows that Odin has been the aggressor throughout. Idun may have had treason or treachery in mind, but Odin never brought it to a proper inquiry. Instead, he chose to pursue events in a fashion that we all know as history now. Therefore, we find Idun innocent of treason and collusion. The matter of Tyr and Vidar’s murder has been rendered moot, so therefore we must find Idun innocent of that charge as well. On the issue of Hecate. The moon goddess was not one of our number. Though Odin charged Idun in her murder, it is obvious that it was merely a ruse to cover his real reasons. In truth, the few of us who knew Hecate liked her little and trusted her less. She broke the covenants of the pantheon lords on many occasions and flaunted that behavior. She wished no one well, mortal or immortal, and it is certain that her intent was to wreak havoc with the power of the Garmtur. It is our opinion that the universe is probably better off without her, and that the destruction brought upon her was manifold invited by her actions. In such light, we find no guilt in the slaying of Hecate.”

Bannor sighed in relief. His heart which he hadn’t realized was speeding began to slow. This wasn’t going to end up a nightmare, some sanity actually prevailed in this chaotic universe. He saw the bodies of his friends relaxing. Sarai pulled him close and kissed him. Wren and her mother and father hugged one another. Laramis thumped him on the shoulder and shook his fist. Daena grinned, nodded and patted him on the back.

Frigga’s voice picked up after a noticeable pause. She seemed to draw air and then rush into her next words as if to keep herself from stopping. “On the matter of Odin’s fitness to rule. We the High Jury have experienced first hand the weight of decisions made by one who is both malicious and uncaring. The dearth of evidence is substantial, and we know that advocate Millicent would parade a great deal more for us to hear if need be. The truth is—we of the High Jury do not need to see it—we serve Odin’s court and know it well. The time for ruling by whim is over. Lord Koass’ suggestion of censure is well merited. We feel that a formal inquiry separate from this one be convened to ascertain the appropriate action. It is our judgment that Odin is currently too biased and self-concerned to properly address the affairs of the realm or we its nobles. We find Odin guilty of abusing his power and station in the pursuit of personal agendas.” Frigga’s voice trailed off and she looked down, her expression showing that she was ashamed of the words that she had spoken which would seem traitorous in the eyes of her husband.

“The High Jury has spoken…” Forseti began.

“But I do not accept their verdict!” Odin boomed swinging his spear up. Around him the Bloodguard took fighting stances.

Idun jumped back and pulled her sword half-sheath. Valkyries of the Chosen seemed to appear from nowhere, forming a circle twenty paces across defined by flaming steel, gleaming wings and glinting eyes.

The audience came to its feet with a single gasp. Bodies leaned forward, eyes unblinking, and hands gripping seatbacks and gallery rails.

On the dais, Garn laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles, the sound loud enough to even be heard in the confusion chatter of excited voices from the audience. Nethra slammed a fist into her palm with a whack. The two leaped off the dais and into that ring of bodies.

“This is Asgard,” the Allfather continued. “It is my realm, and I will not be dictated to by cowards and weaklings. This effrontery ends now.”

Arrow fast, the two Eternals converged on Odin before the lord of lightning even appeared to notice they’d moved. Four Bloodguard met Garn and three launched themselves at Nethra. The black-winged females might as well have been made of paper because neither eternal even slowed, but plowed right through the powerful creatures as if they weren’t there. Odin chose the larger opponent and plunged his spear at Garn. The attack yielded him the same success as it had on Thor in the battlefield. The blue eternal smacked the weapon aside and drove a huge fist into the immortal’s face. The impact sounded like a butcher’s tenderizer slammed down on a block full of gristle. Odin gasped and reeled backward in splash of blood to crack hard into Nethra’s hard swung elbow which hit low on his spine with a pulverizing thud that made the Aesir lord scream in agony. His spear clanged to the ground and he dropped to his knees.

Hands clenching and loosening, faces tight, Garn and Nethra loomed over him, apparently ready to renew their attack should Odin move. The Bloodguard lay scattered across the floor like felled trees, groaning and clutching their broken bodies. Truly, the eternals were awesome opponents.

“Damn you interfering bastards!” Odin gritted through bloody lips. “This is my realm! Mine! You shouldn’t even be here!”

Koass looked up to Forseti. “Your honor, if you’ll permit, I believe I can conclude this matter.”

Forseti nodded.

Koass stepped off the dais, brushing past Idun with a courteous bow. He stopped in front of Odin. “You are right, we shouldn’t be interfering in this. I will make you a deal. We will stop interfering if you agree to meet one condition.”

Odin spat blood on the dirt, wiped his bloody mouth, and scowled. “What is this condition?”

“A final trial by combat,” Koass said in his heavy voice that carried throughout the hall. “You may chose any one of Idun’s people as your opponent, but I will select the weapons. If you lose, you must agree to abide by this court’s rulings and attempt no vengeance. The eternals, I, will take this covenant very seriously—so if you do not abide by it, then it will be my judgment you will face. I will not be so kind as your High Jury. If you win the contest, all of the eternals will leave as they came and you can create havoc as you may. How do you answer?”

“What if I don’t take you up on your offer?” Odin growled.

“Then you get to take my friend Garn on,” Koass patted the blue eternal on the shoulder. “In all honesty, I don’t like your chances.”

Garn made a growling sound, rolled his massive shoulders, and tossed his head side-to-side making the long tail of his hair sway in the still air.

Bannor didn’t like the sound of all this. Koass had already said that Odin blamed him for all that had happened. He had to know that All-father would select him. He came within hairs of dying last time they clashed. It hadn’t even been a close thing. He’d been outclassed in every way.

“Lord Koass,” Idun said, raising her sheathed sword. “You should confer with me before making such deals.”

“Do you object, Lady Idun?”

“He will most certainly pit himself against one of my mortal allies.” She said, tone rising. “That is certainly no fair match!”

The advocate eternal smiled. “As I said, I choose the weapons.”

Idun sniffed and narrowed her eyes. “Very well.”

Odin picked himself up. “All right, I accept. I choose the weed as my opponent.” He pointed at Bannor.

Though he’d expected it, Bannor’s heart still jumped. Sarai gripped his arm, as did Daena.

Koass turned and looked at Bannor. “Will you accept?”

“You do realize he almost killed me last time,” Bannor said, staring at Koass.

“Yes. I’m a fair person. Do you accept?”

This time it was a different fight. Now, he could use the Garmtur. Odin was fresh too, and could call upon all of his immortal powers and strength. Koass stressed ‘fair’. He couldn’t imagine a creature of such apparent honor would allow the match up without planning on evening the odds somehow.

“My One, you can’t mean to accept!” Sarai said.

“He’ll hammer you to a pulp,” Daena added.

“Tis a totally mismatched fight,” Laramis agreed.

“I trust Koass,” Bannor said. He drew a breath hoping he didn’t regret that trust. “I accept the challenge.”

“All right,” the advocate eternal said. “Odin shall use his spear and Bannor will use my sword Sharonsheen.” He raised his hand and a brilliant blue light collected around his fingers and blazed upward into a single-edged battle blade that winked and shone in the flickering torchlight of the hall. Sparks and light played around the edges.

One look at the weapon and Bannor knew this thing went far beyond the definition of ‘magic’. The threads that spiraled into and out of the thing formed a bewildering array so complex it challenged even the Garmtur’s ability to fathom.

“Whoa,” he breathed.

“A shaladen!” Odin growled. “You said nothing of that!”

“Do you surrender then?” Koass asked with an arch look.

“Bah!” Odin snorted. “Get out of my way. I don’t care what that pup has in his hand, I’ll stomp him into the ground. This time, I’ll do it right.”

Koass spun the big sword with the swiftness of child’s baton. He turned to Bannor. His seamed face was set and his silvery eyes were narrow. “This blade is my heart. Give it yours and you will prevail.” Blade across his palms, he presented it to Bannor.

“Sharonsheen,” Bannor whispered.

“A soul breaker,” Sarai breathed. “There is no more powerful blade a mortal can carry.”

“Can he do it, even with that?” Daena asked.

“I believe he can,” Laramis said in a low voice.

Bannor kissed Sarai. “I love you.”

“And I you, my One,” she answered, touching his face.

He unbuttoned his jacket and stripped down to his weskit. Daena took the clothing from him and whispered in his ear. “Put him in the dirt, Bannor, you owe him.”

“I’ll try.”

Though he felt the fear down in the pit of his stomach, Bannor sensed that this was the way it needed to be. Somehow, in some way, this would restore balance to something askew. As he stared at the blade that Koass held out, he knew he might still lose. He faced an opponent with far more experience, and certainly more raw power. One who could heal even the most severe wounds.

He faced a pantheon lord—one un-sane with his own selfishness. As Bannor stepped forward to take the blade, Idun moved and put an arm across his chest. “Are you truly sure of this?”

He stared into Odin’s one blue eye, feeling the malice directed at him. “I’m sure.”

“Then you should have armor,” Idun said. “Now is for battle, not finery.” She gestured and sparks whirled from her hand and spun around him in a tornado of transformation. The tight pants, polished footware, and weskit, became his familiar battleskins, running boots, and jerkin. A weave of fine chainlinks was cast around his arms and torso, in a lightweight but strong web of mithril steel.

Around them the audience sighed at the dramatically performed feat of magic. Bannor sighed, remembering that not only was this a trial, but a show before other pantheons and people of power throughout the occupied realms. No matter what happened this day, he would be famous either as a vindicated winner or an ignominious loser. He nodded to the goddess and spoke his thanks in a hushed tone. His mind went to the blade held out to him.

Drawing a breath, he stepped forward ignoring Odin’s cold burning gaze.

He stopped in front of Koass and looked up. “By your leave.”

“Use it well,” Koass intoned.

Heart beating fast, he reached trembling fingers toward the peculiar looking weapon which looked more like half a sword than a whole one. Rather than an edge that paralleled the runnel and tapered near the tip, the blade was a hand wide at the tang and tapered the entire pace-long length to a needle sharp point. The metal shimmered like a still pond played upon by a light rain.

The material felt warm rather than cold as his tentative fingers closed around the wire-wrapped hilt. The green pommel jewel began to glow as he wrapped his fingers one at a time around the metal, which pulsed and vibrated like a thing alive.

As his hand closed fully, he felt an icy sensation jolt down his arm and through his body. He gasped as he felt every thread in his being suddenly come alive with the power of Eternity. He lurched backward, as his awareness of cosmos, suddenly doubled, tripled and quadrupled. Every connection and relationship of energy and element however faint defined itself in his mind in startling crystal clarity. He felt thoughts and emotions flooding into him. On top of it all, came a crushing, heavy strength that screwed into his bones making him feel as though on fire.

The pain and revelations made him yell, and the release of emotion seemed to bring a flashflood more of eternity’s essence crashing into his body. A bolt of light rasped down through the roof of the hall, and speared into him with a thunderous crash.

Bannor yelled again in pain and surprise, feeling the power of eternity surge through his body, changing him, pushing into his threads and spirit. Gasping, he fell to his knees, holding himself up on the shimmering blade.

Blinking, he shook his head, trying to clear the phantoms from his vision. “I—” He gasped. “Couldn’t—” he coughed. “Couldn’t you have warned me about that?”

Koass shrugged. The lines of his seamed face curved into a smile. “Do you think it would have helped?”

Bannor groaned and shook his head. He pushed himself to stand on wobbling knees. His lungs felt tight, and his heart beat so hard his chest seemed ready to split.

“Are you ready yet, Weed?” Odin asked in a boom. “I tire of this empty display.”

“Just about,” he answered. He looked to Sarai and saw her love singing a rainbow of colors through her threads. He felt it in her thoughts and emotions. He drew a deep breath, and with the intake of air he felt the shaladen’s power rush through him. It was like the strength of Thor’s gauntlets only more potent, more riveting in the way it permeated his body. He raised the long blade so it winked and flashed in the light of the hall. Around them the audience murmured at the sight of the powerful weapon. “You want a fight? I’ll give it to you.”

Garn, Nethra, Koass and the score of Chosen cleared everyone from around the two of them. Bannor still felt the fear like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Odin was a god. The deity he once worshipped. The shaladen had incredible strength—but enough to even the differences between them?

Rolling his shoulders and loosening his wrists he spun the sword through a few cadence maneuvers getting used to its balance. When he first picked it up, the weapon had seemed far too heavy to wield effectively, now it felt like an extension of his arm, light and natural. He had thought to be uncomfortable with such a long blade, having used axes for most of his career, but Sharonsheen had perfect balance and eternity’s essence swirling through it.

Odin picked up his spear Gungnir and whirled it in a blur. “Time to die, Weed.”

Bannor stared at the malicious deity. The knot in his stomach, swelled into a flame of anger. This creature had hunted him and hounded him all across Gladshiem. This was his chance to pay back the pain. “Shut up and fight, old man.”

The All-father’s response was instantaneous, the three-tined spear came right at Bannor’s chest. For all Odin’s speed, the awareness of eternity was faster, he sensed the weapon even before it started toward him. He turned aside and the tines only kissed the surface of his chest.

He grabbed the haft with his left hand and yanked, cocking his right elbow and slamming it hard into the Aesir’s throat with all his strength. It happened with far more speed than he expected, and with ten times the power. He ended up with Gungnir in his left hand and Sharonsheen in his right. Odin slammed into the dirt with a ground-shaking thud, gasping and clutching his crushed throat.

“Good shot, Kid,” Garn rumbled in a barrel drum bass from the edge of the circle surrounding the two combatants. “Swift and sweet.”

“Ayeee!” Sarai cheered. “Veeg!”

King T’Evagduran and Kalindinai raised their fists.

“Hit him again!” Euriel encouraged in her battlefield voice.

He stayed focused, knowing that one strike would not finish Odin. He tossed the spear aside with contemptuous flip. He spun the sword, and circled his opponent. He knew he shouldn’t give Odin time to recover, but he was in front of an audience of thousands. His honor, the honor of Idun and the family of T’Evagduran’s was important. Let Odin act dishonorable, he must give an undisputed showing that cleared everyone.

It took surprisingly little time for the pantheon lord to roll onto his knees. He shook his head and glared at Bannor with gritted teeth. “That was your last free shot, Weed.”

He poised with the weapon, ready to meet Odin’s charge. The god gestured and the spear shot across the circle and into his outstretched hand. In the same moment the weapon struck his palm, he thrust his other hand toward Bannor. Light flared and energy erupted outward in a multi-colored blast.

Bannor instinctively interposed the blade. The powerful magick roared, sparked, and flashed before dying out like a quenched flame. Bannor didn’t question but leaped toward Odin, the shaladen a twinkle in his hand.

The All-father dodged back with a grunt of surprise as Sharonsheen’s razor tip split his armor apart like the skin of an over-ripe crunchfruit. He rounded with the spear and Bannor dodged under it and brought his fist hard into the god’s sternum. The power of strike lifted all the pantheon lord’s fifty stone of mass a pace off the floor with a thud like an axe on a log.

Gasping, Odin came down on his heels and staggered back several steps.

The audience groaned, faces twisting in empathic pain.

Drawing a breath, the god gritted his teeth and snarled. He clenched his fists and a black-light surrounded his limbs. His body thickened and his skin turned the color of metal. He’d converted his body to battle form. A heartbeat later he came thundering toward Bannor like a crazed Rhinotaur.

The Garmtur met the charge with one his own. Their weapons smashed together in a peel easily audible a league away. They turned and clashed. Bannor didn’t see his mistake, but he felt it, as a steel-hard fist crashed into his side, then a follow-up knee slammed into his stomach in a sudden burst of pain that made lights explode in his head. He folded as the haft of Odin’s spear slammed down across his shoulders driving him into the dirt.

He struggled to orient, to do anything but gasp for breath. He felt like a broken doll. He sensed Grungir being raised to be plunged into his back. Koass’ words rang in his head. This blade is my heart. Give it yours and you will prevail.

At the last instant, he rolled aside, the spear went past the tines into the floor. Summoning the last vestiges of his strength, Bannor sprang to his feet calling the Garmtur into his consciousness and willing it into Sharonsheen with one goal in mind.

Victory.

He swung not at Odin, but at his spear.

The shaladen flared star bright as he brought it around. Odin wrenched Grungir out of the ground, and swung it up to counter. Sharonsheen cleaved into the weapon a finger width below where Odin gripped it.

Odin gave out an agonized bellow as a crack like thunder shook the hall as the shaladen sliced through both metal and arm in a blast of sparks, blood, and crackling energy. The follow-through of the swing carried Bannor off balance, and before he could correct, the hacked end of Odin’s spear suddenly sprouted from his left breast in a gout of blood and fragmenting bone.

Bannor’s vision grayed and his limbs jerked and lurched. Gritting his teeth, he reversed the blade, thrust behind him, and ripped down.

The All-father screamed again, letting go of the haft stub and staggering back.

Still impaled, Bannor turned. He saw his final target in blaze of energized threads, and swung Sharonsheen for it.

Odin threw out his arm to fend away the shaladen, but the blade slashed through the super-dense flesh of his hand without pausing. The tip, hard swung for his flux stone, struck it with a boom.

A burning hit Bannor’s face and hands, the world tumbled, and air was suddenly whistling in his ears. For him, the universe went suddenly and painfully black…

I’m no longer surprised when I wake up in a strange place. There’s times when I think I spend more time knocked unconscious than awake…

—Bannor Nalthane Starfist

Prince Conjugal of Malan

Epilogue

« ^ »

Bannor woke aching and dazed. He pushed the silk and satin coverlets back from his face with a groan. His mouth tasted pasty, and his throat was parched. He knuckled his eyes to clear the sleep from them. He lay in a huge canopy bed twice the size of any he’d ever slept in. The frame and posts were carved from cinderwood and starbark and embellished with gold and silver inlay. Golden light streamed into the large room through cast back shudders that opened onto a large veranda. Somewhere nearby, water gurgled and birds chirped and fluttered. The smells of dewpetal, wet grass, and citrus wafted in on a cool breeze that made the taffeta draperies flutter.

Confused, he felt his bare chest. His fingers found the ugly circular scar where Odin’s spear had pierced his body and shattered his ribs. Whether he’d won the fight or it had ended in draw didn’t much matter at the moment.

He was alive.

Better than that, from the light and the smells, he was home—or mostly so.

Glancing around the lavish appointments of the chamber, the only logical place would be the palace of Malan.

With a grunt, he pushed himself to a sitting position. It hurt to move, but he didn’t mind. Compared to the other injuries he’d endured, it was a pleasant reminder that he could still draw air.

How long had he been unconscious? At least three days, from the roughness he felt on his face. The mending done on him must have been strong. Odin’s last attack had been a crippling, if not a life-ending, blow. The success of his last swing was more than lucky. Koass told him Sharonsheen was his heart. The eternal had understated the truth by magnitudes, the shaladen represented a great deal more. Somehow the eternal’s intellect and spirit had been forged into an unbreakable and irresistible weapon.

Even with such potent force in his hands he would not have won if Odin had not been so arrogant, so dismissing of Bannor’s ability.

Apparently, Koass knew what Odin would do and how he would fight. Still, the All-father came within a hair of winning. If he’d wavered for even an instant, the magic spear Grungir would have found his body and stolen his spirit the way it did with Daena and Sarai.

He sighed. That contest now lay behind him. He just hoped it stayed behind him. Koass told Odin that if he lost and sought revenge on Bannor that the eternal would take it as a personal affront. That didn’t mean Odin wouldn’t try anyway…

The room door swung open with a quiet scrape and he saw Janai’s amber-eyed face peek in.

“Oh,” the princess said. “The hero awakes!” Grinning, she slipped inside and swayed across the deep-carpeted floor to his bedside grabbing a pitcher and mug off a vanity as she came. “You must be thirsty.” She handed him the mug. He accepted it from her and she poured water for him.

“Thank you! I am!” He took a long deep drink, appreciating the way the liquid soothed his dry mouth and throat. He drew a breath and drank some more. Right now, even plain water tasted wonderful.

Janai filled the mug for him again and set the pitcher aside. She put hands on hips. “My my, and a thirsty hero at that!”

He nodded, appreciating the second princess dressed and made up as a daughter of Malan. Janai wore a brilliant purple brocade dress with silver chasing up the neckline, cuffs, and seams. Her dark-hair was plaited and looped through a platinum tiara emblazoned with the griffon symbol of Malan.

He always thought of second princess as being “dangerously” beautiful. Now, with her body slimmed and toned by hardship, her face painted and jewels sparkling on her fingers, wrists, and neck she was a vision that would make any man goggle.

The dryness in his throat gone, he put the empty mug down on the bedside. “To this thirsty man, you’re the hero,” he said with a smile. “Coming home agrees with you milady. You’re quite a sight.”

“Am I?” She laughed and did a graceful pirouette, skirts fluttering as she spun. “I feel marvelous! It will be a tenday or so before all of the effects of Idun’s fruit wears off. I am enjoying it while it lasts. How are you feeling?”

He raised his arms and stretched, wincing at the uneven slide of muscles pushed to their limit. “Stepped on, but I’ll recover. Quite good, if you consider I was impaled on a god’s spear.”

“You certainly scared everyone. It’s probably a good thing you weren’t conscious for my sister’s histrionics.” Wincing in empathy, she touched the wound on his chest with tentative fingers. “With all the blood, she was certain that monster had killed you.” She raised her chin. “I wasn’t concerned. I knew the Advocate Eternal would not be letting you go that easily.”

Bannor sighed and rolled his eyes; always a catch, nothing was ever simple. “You’re probably right about that. Is everyone okay? Did they bring Irodee back? Where’s Sarai? I’m surprised she isn’t sitting on me.”

The princess smiled. “Trust me, Bannor, if she didn’t have so much to do Sarai would be sitting on you. She has had the royal physician in to check on you at least a dozen times. She was driving him crazy until Mother made her stop.” She shrugged. “Koass told us that it might be a four or five days before you woke up because of your injury and the separation from the shaladen.”

He frowned. “How long has it been?”

“Four days. Tal brought Irodee and Marta back about a bell after the fight ended. Irodee stayed long enough to learn the outcome, then took off with Tal again. She was gone a day, and came back with a wild story about fighting with the Shael Dal against some kind of lizard creatures down in the south. Apparently, Tal called them Trakazoids (whatever they are). Irodee, Laramis, and Marta are now quartered in the West Wing. The Kergathas are here too, Mother gave them rooms in Gold Run with herself and Father. Daena is staying with me here in River Run.”

She took the pitcher, poured some water into the mug and sipped it. “The eternals made Daena and Wren go with them straightaway to an inquiry when they left. Idun made a big fuss, but gave in because Koass had just done everyone a big favor. Both of them came back with Tal and Irodee. Neither will talk much about what happened. The eternals gave Daena some armband she has to wear. I cannot get her to tell me, but I think it has something to do with Hella.” She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, which made a loud creak under her weight. “Everyone’s been waiting to hear news of your condition and your awakening.” The princess put a hand on his shoulder and gave him an expression of mock reproach. “You know it is dreadfully rude for the guest of honor to be so late to his own celebration.”

Guest of honor? His head was already beginning to hurt. He smiled, better these kind of problems than the ones he faced before. “Yes, but it’s better to be Bannor the late, than the late Bannor.”

Janai chuckled and pointed a finger at him. “Aye! Just so. Very good!” She paused, expression turning more serious. “You impressed a lot of people at that judgment. People the likes of which you cannot imagine…” Her voice trailed off. “We have had a great number of inquiries about you since we returned to Malan.”

He felt a twinge of unease. “Really? Like who?”

“A couple of them were friends of Wren—I think.” She wrinkled her nose. “Mages or some such. Mother was handling it, so I paid it little mind.”

“Mages?” He closed his eyes. That kind of attention he really could do without. “So, what’s Sarai so busy with that’s keeping her away?”

“Marriage errands,” Janai replied with a flip of her hand. “There’s a lot to prepare between now and next season. After the fight, Frey approved the marriage without any ado—provided you lived. Which, obviously, you have.”

“Obviously,” he repeated. “It will take until next season to prepare?” He tried to imagine an affair that would take that long to arrange with all the resources available to Malan’s royal family.

Janai rolled her eyes. “You really know nothing about these matters do you? That’s only three moons away. Both of my marriages took close to cycle of seasons to prepare. Yours would too, if there weren’t a baby to consider. It would be bad form if the baby were showing—” She gave him a real look of reproach this time. “Wouldn’t it?”

He rubbed his face. “Oh.”

She patted his shoulder and eyes sparkled. “But dear brother to be, there’s more! You’ll be busy soon as well. Mother has several tutors set to get you properly gentrified for the occasion.”

His brow furrowed and his voice dropped. “Gentrified?”

Janai blinked at him innocently. “You know—like how to use a fork and knife, how to dance, how to address a lady, how to speak the high tongue. Oh, a great number of things.”

He groaned. “There’s no way out of this is there?”

“Let me think. Ummm—NO.” She leaned down and gave him a look through narrowed eyes. “Unless of course you want to call off the wedding.”

Bannor scowled at her. “Of course not!”

“Just asking.”

The door squeaked and a familiar voice called in a whisper. “Janai, are you…” He saw Daena peer through to opening. “Bannor, you’re awake!”

Grinning, the auburn-haired savant swung in. In the days he’d been unconscious, Janai had completely transformed the once orphaned street girl. Her face was painted, the lids of her eyes tinted and lined to enhance the exotic effect of her glowing green eyes. Her waist length auburn hair had been washed, brushed, curled and fluffed until it gleamed like a ruby cascade inside of platinum hair-net festooned with emeralds. A sleeveless midnight-blue blouse and skirt enhanced the young woman’s sleek lines. She wore numerous rings, arm-bands and bracelets that sparkled in the sun-light. Notably among them was a wide silver band with a glowing blue jewel in its surface. As Janai promised in the mountains, she had indeed dressed the young woman up, as only a princess could do.

Bannor blinked. “Daena?” He glanced at Janai. “Or should I say ‘Lady Daena’? You’re quite striking.”

The girl smiled, cheeks coloring a little. She curtseyed, the move obviously not practiced yet. “Lady Daena will be fine,” she replied making her voice sound high and haughty. She poised with her chin up and a hand to her throat. “Am I not—” She cooled her face with an imaginary fan and tossed her hair. “Stunning?” Her stiff expression cracked and she broke out laughing. “Almost like the real thing, eh?”

He laughed. “A little too much like the real thing I think.”

Janai went and put an arm around Daena. “She’s already seen plenty of jealous court ladies with high minds and low regard.”

“So, you’re feeling okay?” Daena asked him. “Sarai’s been worried and chewing on every tail in sight. I should find her tell her you’re okay, so she’ll stop biting and snapping at everyone.”

“That’s probably best,” he agreed. “I know how she can be.” He rubbed his face and gazed hard at the auburn-haired savant. “How about you? How are you feeling? Janai tells me Koass spirited you and Wren off.”

The young woman sighed and looked to the floor. “I’m all right. They didn’t hurt us or anything. They just showed us stuff, and made us promise things—mostly they just scared us.”

“Scared you?”

Daena nodded without looking up. “I know it’s easy to forget with how I look now, but I’m only fourteen. They said some things—” She swallowed. “I’m just a kid, and—well, I’m glad Wren was there. She was scared too. At least she seemed to know what they were concerned about.”

“And they made to you promise not talk about what was discussed, right?”

She pushed out her lip. “Basically.” She rubbed the wide silver bracelet on her arm.

“Did they discuss Hella?”

Daena nodded pointed at the band. “Pest control.”

“Well, that’s what you wanted, right?”

The girl frowned. “I suppose. I wanted to do it myself, not be given an ultimatum. Stay ‘under observation’ or wear this stupid thing. I know it’s not just to control her, it’s a way for them to keep an eye on me.”

“Hey, you two,” Janai said. “No getting serious. There is a party waiting to be thrown. Daena, why don’t you see if you can find my irascible sister and tell her she can stop fretting. I shall spread the good news to our friends.” She pointed a finger at Bannor. “You—get your strength back. Food and drink will be sent in straight away.”

“I’ll do that, I’m hungry enough to eat a broadpaw.”

The princess laughed again. “I will see what the cooks can do.”

Saying their goodbyes, the two of them left him to ponder what he’d been told.

~*~

Whatever Sarai had been doing must have been close by or she had flown because only a fraction of a bell had passed before she appeared. The third princess of Malan did not enter by the door, but by the veranda. She came over the rail silvery hair and aqua colored skirts flying and landed on the decking with a thump.

“My One!” She paused for only a moment before leaping across the room. The third princess landed on the bed with a loud creaking of wood and she grabbed him in a hug, body hot where their skin touched. She snuggled her face into the curve of his neck and moaned something in Elvish he didn’t understand.

He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair, sniffing the sweet smell of cinnamon that clung to her. He felt her heart beating fast and heavy. In his Garmtur sight, her threads were bright with excitement and relief.

Bannor swallowed, feeling tears on his cheeks. She was here. They were together. He almost couldn’t believe it. So many things had happened he almost came to believe it would never happen; that they would never have peace or be able to be together.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice heavy in his throat.

Sarai pushed back from him violet eyes wide and dewy. She smiled and kissed him, fingers threading in his hair. She tasted of salt and nectar lips urgent on his as she pulled him tight. Moments passed before she let him go. “And I love you, my One,” she breathed.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Am I all right!?” she snapped, smile abruptly turning to a frown. “I’ve been worried about you for a tenday! Don’t ever do that again!” She hugged him again, pulling his face to her chest.

“Star,” he said, words muffled by her warm flesh and clothing. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“Well,” she growled, running her fingers through his hair. “It felt like it. That’s what matters. I thought that eternal had arranged it so you’d never wake up!”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m fine. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” She gave him a little shake, then sat back on the bed. She ran her fingers across the circular ridges on his chest. Her brow furrowed and her eyes flashed. “Some day he’ll pay for that.”

He took her by the shoulders and looked in her eyes. “Star, let’s forget about it. It’s over. We’ve got happier things to contemplate. Like a daughter and getting married.”

Sarai let out a breath and sighed. “You’re right. We do.” She shook her head, silvery hair wreathing around her face. She caressed his cheek, nails scraping lightly on his unshaven skin. “Although, I don’t know how happy you’ll be when you find out what Mother has planned.”

He drew a breath and let it out slow. He leaned forward and kissed her again. “Star, you’re worth it to me. After what I’ve been through, how bad can a few tutors be?”

The princess raised an eyebrow and stared at him for few moments, eyes distant and a faint smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s not like mother has demons working for her. Still, we have so much to do…”

“We’ll do it together,” he said. “Look what we’ve already done. A wedding should be easy compared to that.”

“I don’t know, my One,” she said smiling. “You haven’t met some of the royal caterers. I think I’d rather fight Rankorhaaz!”

He laughed. “They can’t be that bad—” He paused. “Can they?”

“You’re right,” Sarai agreed. “We’ll get through it. We’ve been through a god war. If we can survive that, we can beat anything!”

A knock sounded on the door and Janai entered followed by Wren and Daena. Laramis, Irodee, and a young girl who must be Marta trailed in a few steps behind. Last inside were Queen Kalindinai, Euriel, and Vanidaar.

Everyone was comfortably dressed, relaxed and fresh. It seemed so different to see these familiar faces without the determined glint in their eyes, the clenched jaw and taut bodies.

He weathered their concerns and congratulations. After all, each of them did their part, paid a debt of pain and fear and won through. Their feats were no less than his, he simply struck the finishing blow in desperate and seemingly endless fight. His gesture was emblematic to be sure, but no more special than their other contributions.

He clapped Laramis on the shoulder and asked to be introduced to their red-haired daughter, who at five summers old was already taller than Wren. She was gangly and thin, but pretty despite it. It was easy to see Laramis and Irodee in the girl’s face, the Myrmigyne’s dark eyes and long face, and the justicar’s thin nose and strong jaw. Wren obviously doted on Marta. The girl knew it and hung off the savant with a child’s carefree familiarity.

“So, what’s everyone going to do?” Bannor asked.

“Well, we’ll be around for a while,” Wren answered, glancing at her mother and father. She rocked her head back against Marta who had her arms around Wren’s neck. “Things are going to be a bit—hectic in Asgard for a while. Grandmother prefers we take a vacation until things settle down.”

“We too shall be about for a while,” Laramis said with a smile. “In our absence, Marta has made some friends and was entered into one of the schools here. Irodee speaks well of schooling in Malan and would like to see Marta finish the season to see if she likes it.”

Marta bounced and grinned, she looked around and hid her face, shy at being the subject of conversation.

“I have made sure they all know they are welcome in Malan,” Kalindinai said with a nod. “I would like to see us banded together in times of peace as well as war.” She paused. “Besides, Laramis is the only logical choice to be your second in the ceremony, Bannor. You have much to learn.”

Laramis half smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “She made me—us—an offer we couldn’t refuse.”

Bannor could only nod, knowing that the queen of Malan got her way.

Janai looked around and smiled up at Daena. “Actually, I think we’re going to have a lot of fun.”

Sarai eyed her sister. “As long as it’s not too much fun.”

“Of course!” Janai beamed. “You cannot think I would ruin my brat sister’s wedding do you?”

Sarai simply folded her arms in response.

Janai rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Well, I don’t know about fun,” Bannor said. “I think the next few scoredays will be interesting at the very least—”

As he finished his words, there was a roaring in the air and a great rushing of wind that caused the curtains the fly and the shudders to bang in their moorings. Outside the veranda, Bannor heard yells of surprise and horses whinnying in fear.

Everyone moved quickly look out the veranda and see what was causing the commotion. Wren was the first to look, followed by Daena. The two women gasped. Laramis and Irodee frowned.

Sarai helped Bannor across the room to look out across the river that the veranda looked over. Beyond the narrow stretch of river was a fruit orchard. An orchard now occupied by something other than trees.

Dragons.

Scales flickering in a rainbow of colors, Tymoril and Kegari stared up at them, pace long teeth bared in Draconian grins. They made rumbles of greeting and bowed their reptilian heads to the queen.

Bannor sighed. The next few scoredays would be interesting indeed.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

« ^ »

First published in 1983, Will Greenway started his creative career wanting to draw and script comics. After a number of years, he found writing better suited to his skills. Aside from writing and art, Will is a self-taught programmer, PC technician, and network troubleshooter. He enjoys skiing, racquetball, Frisbee golf, and is steadfast supporter of role-playing games. He currently works as systems and software engineer for the San Diego command of Space and Naval Warfare Systems. To this date he has completed fifteen novels, more than a dozen short stories, and numerous articles on writing. He resides in the Bonita suburb of south San Diego where he lives with his wife, a Linux server, a closet full of comics, and around 200 anime DVDs.

WILL’S BOOKS:

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The Chronicles of the Ring Realms:

Reality’s Plaything Series—Tales following the adventures of Bannor Starfist.

1. Reality’s Plaything

2. ‘Neath Odin’s Eye

3. Gaea’s Legacy

Savant’s Blood Series—Tales following the adventures of Wren Kergatha.

1. Savant’s Blood

2. Aesir’s Blood

3. Gaea’s Blood

Shaladen Chronicles Series—Tales following the adventures of Corim Vale.

1. A Knot In Time

2. Anvil of Sorrow

3. Who Mourns the Creator

You can keep track of all of Will’s Books at his author page:

www.writers-exchange.com/will.htm

OTHER AVAILABLE BOOKS FROM WRITERS EXCHANGE:

REALITY’S PLAYTHING SERIES BOOK 1:

REALITY’S PLAYTHING

When you fall in love with royalty, you might as well stick your head in a noose. So Bannor Starfist learns, at the end of a rope.

Then things get worse.

Now a target for an insane moon goddess Hecate, Bannor must learn to control his enormous but newly recognized power, or he will be consumed by it. Time is against him, Hecate’s minions are closing in on him, devastating the land and world that he loves.

In this clash with evil he is joined by Elves, Savants, Humans, and Dwarves in their efforts to resist Hecate’s assault. Outnumbered and out manoeuvred at every turn, it is a losing battle that drives Bannor closer and closer to capture and confrontation with the goddess herself.

How does one man fight a god? Armed with little more than an axe and a love for his Elven wife Sarai, Bannor must find out or lose his soul to darkness.

SHALADEN CHRONICLES SERIES BOOK 1:

A KNOT IN TIME

Take a Kriar princess with time travelling powers, a vicious Myrmigyne queen, a scholar turned tournament champion and adventurer. Combine them with half human half Kriar twins with only one soul between them and add a 40,000 year old technomage dictator. Then stir in a power-mad mage named Meridian and Rakaar the unstoppable Baronian juggernaut and you have the recipe for a fantastic odyssey.

Visit www.writers-exchange.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.

Table of Contents

Dedication

The Immortals

Chapter 1 Asylum Before the Storm

Chapter 2 Dinner With a Deity

Chapter 3 Idun’s Treasure

Chapter 4 What Cost for Power

Chapter 5 Reborn By Dawn

Chapter 6 The First Obstacle

Chapter 7 A Crazy Kind of Cleverness

Chapter 8 Thunderlord’s Assault

Chapter 9 The Odinson’s Pride

Chapter 10 Dragon Flight

Chapter 11 Tymoril and Kegari

Chapter 12 Miscreant Mercenaries

Chapter 13 Draconian Humor

Chapter 14 The Minions of Surtur

Chapter 15 The Lord of Malan

Chapter 16 A Story for Loki

Chapter 17 A Dragon Swell

Chapter 18 A Draconic Affliction

Chapter 19 Homesick, the Struggle South

Chapter 20 Odin’s Eyes

Chapter 21 Valkyries

Chapter 22 Taking Wing

Chapter 23 Odin’s Storm and Sarai’s Secret

Chapter 24 Tao Travel and Wren’s Fate

Chapter 25 Escape By Nola Theft

Chapter 26 The Mistress of Hel

Chapter 27 Hella’s Confession

Chapter 28 Legacy of the First Ones

Chapter 29 The Unwanted Gift

Chapter 30 The Reticent Immortal

Chapter 31 Daena Sheento: First One Reborn

Chapter 32 Loki’s Missing Daughter

Chapter 33 Daena’s Talent

Chapter 34 The Bait In Idun’s Trap

Chapter 35 Idun’s Ultimatum

Chapter 36 Immortal Battleplan

Chapter 37 Warrior’s Ascension

Chapter 38 Balder’s Fall

Chapter 39 The Allfather’s Confrontation

Chapter 40 High Jury’s Fall: The Savage Accident

Chapter 41 Weeds

Chapter 42 Thunderlord’s Intersession

Chapter 43 Tangled Lives: Loki’s Assistance

Chapter 44 Of Changing Faces and Bloodguard

Chapter 45 Draconian First One

Chapter 46 The Flying Interlude

Chapter 47 Assault On Asgard

Chapter 48 Hel’s Mistress Strikes