Naomi was the smallest of us all, but she wore the most vicious expression: teeth bared, eyes sparking with fury. She drew a long blade from a sheath at her hip. I had learned in my previous training at the Aerie that the Valkyries’ weapons carried an extra bit of power in the form of runes, gifted to them from Odin years ago. The Valkyries imbued their blades with the power of those runes, and it gave them the necessary edge to defeat mythological creatures. Perhaps even the gods.
“I’m not unprepared,” Naomi said.
“You’re talking about fighting a son of Thor,” Val said. “Grim might not have Mjölnir or Thorin’s other enhancements, but he won’t go down easily. There’s a reason the Viking berserkers worshipped Grim before going into battle. He got his battle rage from his father. You don’t stand a chance against him when he makes up his mind to fight. He’s a brawler, and he’s lethal with just his bare hands. He’s had to be because he has nothing else to fall back on.”
“But say we got lucky anyway,” I said. “You can’t kill Grim and expect there won’t be repercussions from the other Aesir.”
“Solina’s right.” Val squeezed my shoulder. “Thorin won’t take kindly to you poking lethal holes in his only brother.”
Naomi huffed and rolled her eyes. “Okay, I won’t try to kill Grim. Not unless he forces my hand.”
“Embla,” Skyla said, “if you, Naomi, and Solina focus on the fire sword, then Val and I will keep an eye out for Grim. He has to be here. He obviously lured us here.”
I pursed my lips at Skyla and huffed. “I thought you said I didn’t stand a chance against Tori and that I was a danger to myself.”
Skyla lowered her gaze and looked away. “I have a feeling your fire might be our best chance against that sword.”
“Glad we can agree on that.”
It wasn’t much of a plan, but we were armed and somewhat prepared. As long as Grim and Tori had the sword, and as long as we wanted to take it from them, they would have the advantage. I didn’t mean to let them keep it for long.
An arc of fire blazed in the distance again, tempting us like cheese enticing rats to the trap.
“Sometimes, you just have to take the bait,” I mumbled to myself.
Through the back door and out into the yard, Embla, Naomi and I moved toward the lake, tentative and wary but focused on the sword and its wielder. Val and Skyla hung back, anticipating Grim’s approach. We reached the dock, and I stopped to look back, to verify that Val had taken his place behind me as promised, but a cry of alarm and the sick thwack of battered flesh announced that something had gone terribly wrong.
Val cursed. Another, deeper voice barked out a harsh word. A crack was followed by another shriek that sounded like Skyla in pain. Someone cried out again, and a limp body flew through the darkness before splashing into the lake, beyond the end of the dock.
What the hell?
Skyla grunted, and I raised my fire. She and Grim were knotted together like Olympic wrestlers. He twisted and slammed her to the ground. Skyla’s head rocked back and cracked against the ground, and she fell still and silent at his feet. Oh, God, no… Val had tried to caution us, but his warning failed to adequately prepare us for the truth. If Val, a full-blooded Aesir, couldn’t stand up to Grim longer than he had, the rest of us had even less hope. We’d never really stood a chance against Grim, against a son of Thor whose ultimate weapon was his own two hands and an insane lust for battle.
My ears popped, and an instant later, a set of powerful arms wrapped around me and squeezed. I called out my fire and cranked my internal torch full throttle. Grim yelped and dropped me, and I turned to face him. In the circle of my light stood a large man who I might have mistaken for Thorin if not for the brutality in his face. Skyla had crumpled, lifeless, at his feet, and Val was gone.
Grim’s lips split into a sneer. Cruelty shone in the gleam of his teeth. Grim watched me with focused attention, possibly searching out my weak spots. I had them, for sure, but he wouldn’t find them without a fight.
“What do you want, Grim?” I asked, crouched in a defensive stance.
“Your death by Skoll is a great threat to my well-being,” he said.
Where had I heard that before?
“I survived Ragnarok once. I will not take my chances again.”
“There’s no mistaking whose brother you are.” Besides looking a great deal like Thorin, Grim also sounded just like him.
“Magni is soft. He has failed in his duty to his race.”
“But not you. You’re going to kill me and assure your perpetuity. That’s how your brother put it.”
Grim smiled, and his iciness brought goose bumps to my arms. “I am most certainly going to kill you. Just not right this minute.”
“You won’t touch her. Not now, not ever.” Naomi appeared from the darkness and moved into my circle of light. She had drawn her sword and pointed it at Grim.
“Put away your toy, Valkyrie,” Grim said, condescension thick in his tone. “You are my servant. You will do no harm to me.”
Embla stepped up beside Naomi. She raised her weapon, a long, dark blade the perfect length for throwing. “For too long we’ve been your servants. We have fulfilled your desires and demands at your whim—at the whims of all Aesir. In return, we have been used and discarded— shoved in a corner and forgotten. For centuries, we have trained and prepared. We held ourselves ready, but for nothing. The days when we were your servants, your whores, are over.”
I expected Embla’s words to outrage Grim. Instead, he threw back his head and laughed. Embla’s grip tightened. Naomi leaned in closer. Animosity and the promise of violence sparked through the air like static electricity.
“I have cared for you,” Grim said, “provided for your every need. I have celebrated your success, and in your despair, I gave you support. I have always been faithful to you. In return, you betray me.” Grim pulled himself up tall and straight. He threw his gaze into the distant darkness. “All have forsaken me, except one. Only she has remained true.”
A streak of light blinded us. The Valkyries cried out, and Embla threw her knife as a wall of fire erupted through the night, cutting between the Valkyries and me. Naomi shouted my name. I called to her, trying to reach for her, but the flames were too hot.
“Fight fire with fire, they say.” It was the voice from my dream—and it belonged to Tori.
No big surprise, but the fact she would turn on me like that stung my pride.
“Tori!” Naomi screamed over the roar of the fire. “Why are you doing this?”
Naomi lunged closer, ready to strike, but Tori swiped her weapon, Surtr’s sword, and sent a literal rain of fire falling over the Valkyries. They shrieked and fell back.
Tori’s attack on the others had absorbed her attention. Taking advantage of her distraction, I prepared to strike.
Grim understood my intent and called out, “Tori, watch it!”
Tori spun, and the sword vomited flames over me. I had yet to develop my ability into much of an offensive weapon unless someone stood still long enough for me to give them a bear hug made of fire, but my abilities provided for a pretty terrific defensive shield. I raised my fire and created a barricade, a protective wall that resisted the scorch of Surtalogi’s flames.
Voices yelled and cried out around me, but my own fight required all my concentration, and I had no attention to spare for the others. I let down all my walls and engaged Surtalogi fully, pouring out my flames. The sword took everything I gave and more. I pushed harder, fearing that I was treading close to the threshold between corporality and supernova star power, when I would convert to that other state of being. But that moment never came. The sword sucked away my heat and light until my well ran dry.
“Tori, that’s enough,” Grim said.
Tori turned the sword aside, throwing a fiery wall up between me and the Valkyries who might have helped me. I fell to my knees and slumped to the ground. A dark and bitter chill filled the place where my fire had lived. A void opened in me and drew me toward a frigid, bottomless abyss. I had nothing left with which to resist. Naomi cried out my name once and fell silent.
Strangely, the face I saw in the dimness of my fading consciousness wasn’t hers. No, in those last moments, my gaze fell on a shadowy figure standing in the gloom behind Grim, watching my defeat with a cold, detached expression.
I reached out and pointed, willing someone to turn around and see him—to verify he was real. But the darkness came, and I passed out, not knowing if I had really seen Rolf Lockhart or if my imagination had made him up.
Chapter Twenty-four
A blackened and ancient city loomed over me—a skeleton left out in the elements to age and decay. In the distance rose a monstrous mountain range, crowned by snow. The sourness of old smoke lay heavy on my tongue and stung my eyes. I walked the dead city’s streets, dodging broken stones and bricks, fallen pillars, and shattered glass. A frozen wind tore through the torched and ruined landscape, carrying the shrill cries of ghosts.
One voice rose above the others, mournful and wrecked. I searched for it, stepping over and through piles of rubble and ash. The voice called higher and louder. Like a siren, it screamed and wailed until I could no longer bear it. I crouched, covered my ears, and squeezed shut my eyes.
I stayed like that for an eternity before the sound faded. When I finally pulled my hands away, an echo rang in my ears, but the horrible noise had faded away. The place where I’d stopped was the courtyard of what had probably once been a fine home. A few beams and doorframes remained, teetering on a foundation of besmirched stone. In the yard beside me stood the burned-out remnants of a tree, little more than a twisted, blackened stump.
Compelled to touch the charred remains, I went to the tree and flattened my palm against its cold, dead bark. At the instant of my touch, new shoots sprang from the blackened body. I gasped and pulled my hand away, and the new growth withered. I touched the stump again, and the shoots recovered and grew. The roots beneath me stretched and wriggled in the ground like a child waking from a long sleep.
