“Someone from within the Valkyries is betraying you,” Grim said. “They’re rotten at the core.”
“Tell me something I didn’t know, Captain Obvious.” I scowled at Grim’s profile, but he had the sense not to take my bait. He stood at Thorin’s opposite shoulder, and the two brothers, side by side, formed a formidable force. Thor had split his might between his sons, giving Magni Alexander his strength and Modi Grimr his lust for battle. One look at them and any sensible opponent would run for the hills. Neither Helen nor her stone men had demonstrated much sensibility, however.
I scowled at Grim. “I have to believe the Valkyries aren’t all—”
Baldur gasped and sank to his knee. Thorin grabbed the Allfather’s shoulder and held him steady.
Baldur rubbed his temples and ground his teeth. He rose unsteadily to his feet. “The wards... I don’t know what she’s done, but if she keeps it up, I won’t last much longer.”
I stared into the distance, and a shimmer of iridescent colors quivered across the horizon. I pointed. “I see something.”
Thorin followed the direction of my gesture. He grunted low in his throat. “Shit.”
“What is that?”
“It’s the wards,” Grim said. “They become more visible as they lose their strength. Helen’s hitting that spot with everything she’s got.”
“What can we do to help?”
Baldur winced and clutched his head in his hands. “I don’t know. Maybe... Maybe if there was someone who could reinforce the wards...”
“Who could do that?” An idea struck. “What about Skyla? She’s a direct descendent. Do you think she could help?”
“Couldn’t hurt.” Baldur grunted.
“It’ll mean telling her the truth about you and her.”
He turned his glittering, pain-filled eyes on me. “If it means saving everyone’s lives, I’ll risk it. Even if she hates me.”
I looked at Thorin. “Can you get her? Bring her here?”
Worry lines crinkled around his eyes. He licked his lips. “I’ll get her if you can find her. But the moment Helen breaches the wards, I’ll have to stay and fight. No matter what.”
I swallowed past the hard lump rising in my throat. “I understand.”
Thorin slipped his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it to me. After thumbing through his recent call log, I found Skyla’s name and swiped the call button. Her phone rang and went to voicemail. I tried again with no success. Where the hell are you, Skyla?
“Call me immediately,” I said to her voicemail. “I need you here as soon as possible. Thorin will come get you, but he has to know exactly where you are. Baldur’s wards are failing, and there’s a way you might be able to help if we can get you here. Now.”
I ended the call and met Thorin’s dark stare. “Do you have any of the Valkyries’ other numbers?”
He shook his head. “They mostly use disposable phones. They aren’t very trusting.”
Baldur’s wards shimmered again, ghostly greens and blues rippling from the golems’ point of impact like concentric rings in a pool of water. The undulations dispersed into the atmosphere in a twinkle of glittering sparks that resounded like fireworks. Baldur uttered a steady litany of words under his breath, most likely naming the runes that had fabricated his enchanted wall. He spoke the runes with specific intent, giving them power, converting them from inert symbols into active weapons.
A crack like the felling of a massive oak tree cut through the dissonance of thunder, lightning, and wind. A web of veins—glowing and pulsing with every hue of the rainbow—clawed through Baldur’s invisible barricade.
“It’s going,” Baldur groaned. “I can’t...”
Thorin threw back his head and roared something in his ancient tongue. A glowing network of electrical highways and byways crisscrossed the clouds like a celestial map, crackling and popping with potential energy. The lightning fell apart and rocketed toward the earth, slicing the sky into jagged shards and ribbons. Thorin folded himself around me, forming a shelter against the concussion of sound and dynamic force exploding across New Breidablick as his ammunition found its target.
I clamped my hands over my ears and clenched my eyes shut, but the blast rocked through me despite Thorin’s insulation. My heart stumbled and stuttered, its rhythm disturbed by the blast. I wheezed and pounded my chest until the sensation faded. Still, my ears rang, and the world swirled in a dizzying soup. He stroked my back and kept me wrapped in his arms until my senses recovered.
“Good Lord,” I rasped. “Why don’t you just drop an atomic bomb next time?”
He ignored my bad joke. “You’re all right?”
I shifted and peered at his face. Amber flecks swirled in his dark eyes like suns in faraway galaxies. I offered a limp smile. “I’m fine.”
We straightened up and surveyed the results of his literal Blitzkrieg. “Her army has fallen back,” he said. “They’re regrouping.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I still can’t see anything.”
“They’ve taken a hit,” Grim said. “I can’t say how many, but there are rubble piles everywhere.”
My heart swelled in my chest, filling with pride and awe that temporarily alleviated the fear. I believe in you, Thorin. I believe... I believe...
Baldur shook himself, clearing the dazed look from his face. “I need to narrow the perimeter of the wards. I don’t have much juice left in me, but I can hold out a little longer if I bring the wards in closer. It’ll give us a smaller buffer zone, but I don’t have the strength for anything bigger. Maybe it’ll buy us some time.” He turned his blue eyes on me. “Any luck finding Skyla?”
I shook my head. “Nothing yet.” Common sense listed a dozen reasons why my calls had failed to reach my best friend: her phone battery had died; her route to New Breidablick carried her through spotty reception zones; she was distracted, occupied, et cetera. But a little niggling voice of doubt suggested otherwise. Something’s gone wrong, it said in insistent tones.
Baldur, Grim, Thorin, and I retreated to New Breidablick’s wraparound front porch. Baldur inhaled several deep breaths, rolled his head around on his neck, and flexed his shoulders. Then he strained as if lifting an enormous weight. A chorus of snaps, pops, and hisses sang out, and a translucent blue curtain rose before us, rippling like the surface of a glacial bay.
From our perch, we watched the golems approach. They spread themselves wide apart, diluting Thorin’s target, making it harder for him to take out many at one time. From somewhere behind us, near the vicinity of Baldur’s barn, a rooster crowed. I shivered, and goose bumps broke out over my arms.
Overhead, black clouds boiled and expanded, tumbling over each other. Slim filaments of electricity crawled through the tumultuous heavens, flashing, fizzing, breaking apart, and reforming. I turned to Thorin and pointed overhead. “What are you doing up there?”
“Recharging. That last blast spent a huge amount of energy. It’ll take time to build up to that level again.”
