Dead Radiance (41 page)

The torchlight nearest to her flickered as if in worried agreement with her. It hit me then that the clues had been there in the fake Sigrun. Those hugs, her overly effusive personality, even how she'd called me Brynhildr. Sigrun had stopped calling me that ages ago.

"It helped a little," I said. I was in shock, post-Loki shock.

He'd almost killed me. But I was still standing and I had Fen to thank. And Aidan. He hunched over beside me, his weight leaning more onto me than ever. The necklace was white hot around my neck and all I wanted was to rip it off. The thing had almost cost me Aidan's life. And mine.

We followed Fen as he led Loki to Odin's Hall. The backs of both men were rigid with two different brands of pure rage.

I walked behind them, supporting Aidan with one arm until we neared the entrance.

"I will bring him, you go on," Sigrun said, her voice hushed.

I shrugged the long coat off my shoulders, revealing Brisingamen shining at my neck. The necklace burned hot against my skin, sending sparks of fire into my flesh, hotter and hotter as we neared the hall, as we neared its mistress. My heart thumped within my chest. I hoped the return of her precious treasure would appease her. Aidan's life depended on it.

Chapter 43

Our footsteps echoed as we entered Odin's Hall, which thankfully was empty except for Freya, Astrid and Odin. And Hugin, who flew to his master and reclaimed his position on Odin's shoulder.

Despite Loki's intervention, we'd fulfilled our end of the bargain, bringing Brisingamen with us. Elation built within me with each slow step toward the throne. Aidan walked at my side, pushing Sigrun off, demanding to stand alone despite the weakness in his stride and the deathly white pallor of his skin. Odin turned and sent me a pride-filled glance. A burst of emotion flooded my body. Tears dammed hot behind my eyes and the urge to shed them was so strong I almost lost control of that potential flood.

Freya stood to Odin's right, her eyes alight as they settled on my neck. Her delight to see her long-lost necklace echoed in the golden glow shining from her face and body. Her pure happiness revealed her unparalleled beauty as the Goddess of Love.

Beside Freya, Astrid glared at me, cold fury shining from her face, the feathers of her white wings shivering behind her.

I moved forward, smiling.

Freya stepped off the dais, her golden chain-armor shimmering over a dress of spun gold. She seemed to me a stunning vision, and yet I knew the depth of her cruelty. At this point, though, I didn't mind ignoring the way she'd used us. It was done. Over.

She drew close. The fragrance of jasmine flowers drifted to me. I tilted my head, fiddled with the clasp and removed the shining neck piece. Freya snatched it from me, barely waiting for me to hand it over. She stared at the gleaming ring of amber and let out a peal of joyous laughter. Her smile was infectious, her laughter so happy that even I lost the edge to my anger with the goddess.

"My dear Brynhildr. You have succeeded in fulfilling my deepest desire," Freya said, her eyes still fixed on her prized necklace. "To be honest, I didn't expect you to succeed."

There it was. The vein of venom beneath the golden aura of this goddess. Aidan had almost died in the quest to return her precious trinket and she didn't care one bit. No surprise there.

With an ominous edge in her voice, Freya said, "Of course, you shall receive your reward, my dear."

My heart tripped, and I wondered if she meant to renege on her promise to remove the curse from Aidan. I almost stepped in front of him, the need to protect him still my highest priority, but I controlled my instinct. Such an insult to the goddess in Odin's own hall would not be tolerated. I had to force myself to trust her. For now. He needed to be free from her curse. Free from her hold again.

Freya stood close to Aidan, close enough to place a gentle kiss on his lips. A wave of jealous anger crashed into me. Surely she was able to remove the darned curse without making out with him. At first, wrapped up in the green folds of my jealousy, I didn't see the wisps of golden breath that wafted from her mouth. I stifled a gasp as a snaking coil of golden mist swirled and danced before Aidan's lips.

It entered his mouth.

I shuddered. Freya's magic was beautiful and disgusting at the same time. I wanted to close my eyes, to avoid seeing Freya kissing Aidan. But I remained transfixed, fascinated. A matching twist of mist erupted from Aidan's mouth, only his was a foul mix of green and purplish smoke.

Freya's golden coil pulled the poisonous smoke into it, enveloping it, swirling and twisting around until the green and purple mist was swallowed whole. Not a trace of the poison remained. I sighed, relieved, shaking, and still a little jealous. As she stepped away, I wondered how such a beautiful goddess could instill so deep a hatred within a mere mortal.

Freya returned to the dais, but my attention turned to Loki as he struggled to free himself from his son's bonds. Odin watched, his lone eye burning with fury, a living flame twisting violently within his gaze.

"Take him away, Fenrir." Odin's voice boomed, more suited to his giant presence than the old stooped man. "I will deal with him later." A deep sadness filled his eyes as son led father out of the gigantic hall.

***

"Thank you." Aidan whispered the words into my ear, color slowly returning to his pale face. "For forgiving me. For saving me."

My heart sang, joyful at the prospect of our future, at grabbing the time we had together with both hands. We'd fought so hard for this—for the chance to be together again.

"You're not so bad yourself." I smiled back at him.

He reached out a hand, tenderly tracing my cheek—and then he groaned. His warm fingers slipped from my face and his shoulders hunched over. Agony streaked across his stricken face as he slumped slowly to the floor. I tried to grab him. But his dead weight pulled me along and I ended up kneeling beside him, struggling to prop him up.

Freya!

I glared up at her, unable to hide my hatred. Had she tricked us into believing that Aidan was cured? But the furrows of concern on her face forced me to stop and think, to temper my fury.

She rushed forward. "Lay him down, let me check him," she said.

I tilted Aidan onto his back, taking his weight on my hands, to lay him gently on the ground. His pallor had worsened so quickly. I couldn't understand why just moments ago he'd seemed to be recovering. I parted his coat to free him of his sword—and let out a small cry of horror.

His simple white t-shirt glistened bright red, still wet with fresh blood.

Freya knelt beside us, lifting Aidan's sodden shirt to inspect a vicious open wound. "How old is this wound?" she asked.

I shook my head, unable to answer, my voice choked off by vicious fingers of terror.

"Speak, girl! This is no time for hysterics."

Freya's voice brought me back from my hell, and I cleared my throat. "He didn't have any such injury when we arrived. And the only fighting he did was with Loki."

As I spoke the trickster's name, I turned to the doorway, slowly replaying the fight. Loki'd had so many opportunities to stab Aidan. My gaze followed as Fen and Loki reached the threshold. Then the trickster turned and met my eyes, an evil, triumphant gleam sparkling within those bright green orbs. He smirked at me.

I shivered and broke the gaze.

Freya still sat bent over Aidan, eyes closed as if in deep meditation. I risked disturbing her. "Can you make him better?" I pleaded with her, praying she could heal his wounds, even while dread filled my veins and entwined my soul like vicious creeping vines.

Freya shook her head and sighed. "No. I can do nothing for him. The wound is not the problem. It is the poison in his wound that is killing him."

"Poison?" My voice shattered as I spoke the word.

Odin had moved to Aidan's side. "It is the poison of Skadi's venomous serpent," he explained. "Loki has used this venom before, using the very means of punishment the goddess Skadi used on him."

I knew the myth of Loki's punishment, but couldn't squeeze out a drop of sympathy for whatever agony he may have undergone. I stroked Aidan's hair, my voice sinking to a whisper as I asked, "So . . . Aidan will die?"

"It is possible. But—" Odin and Freya shared a glance. At her tiny nod, he continued. "There is one place where the poison will cease to work."

I grasped at the hope in his words. "Where? We have to take him there if it will save him."

I rose to my knees, reaching again for Aidan, but Freya held my arm and said, "I will take him. There is nothing you can do for him. But I shall try to find a cure."

"Where are you taking him? Can I come and see him?"

"I will take him with me to Hel. Hel is the only place in the world where any poison, not of my creation, becomes useless. You may visit, of course. But I fear you may be rather occupied." Freya rose slowly, golden silk shimmering with her movements.

My heart sank. I knew then that I wouldn't see Aidan for a while, that I wouldn't be able to make him better after all.

What a viciously beautiful irony.

We'd come all this way, succeeded in returning Brisingamen to Freya, even succeeded in getting Loki incarcerated again, and it was all for nothing. Aidan was still going to die. I wasn't sure I believed that Hel was the best place for him. But I had to trust Odin's advice. It didn't mean I had to trust Freya, though. Not by a long shot.

Aidan now lay so still I could have sworn he was dead. His skin had turned alabaster, his lips so blue they appeared black. I touched his cheek and was relieved to find it still held a hint of warmth. The muscles in my jaw tightened.
I will save you, whatever it takes
, I thought. Turning my head, I brushed a tear from my cheek and sat up, away from him, stiff-backed and stiff-lipped.

Freya held my gaze, a silent question simmering in the golden depths of her eyes. I nodded.

She leaned over Aidan, touched the tip of her finger to his skin. They both disappeared, the shapes of their bodies shimmering, smoky and ethereal, until they were gone and Odin and I were alone.

"He will be well, Brynhildr. Freya will find a way to heal him. Do not fear. And do not grieve. There is much to do, child. You will have need of your strength and your courage." Odin's voice, though soft, echoed around the hall, and within my head. I nodded, unable to speak. If I so much as opened my mouth I knew I'd burst into tears.

The god retreated into the shadows of the Hall. Hugin fluttered after Odin as he walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat motionless on the cool marble, admiring the pure white tiles, admiring the bright red of Aidan's blood where grotesque color marred pristine beauty. A wash of grief flowed through me, tears filling my eyes, blurring my vision. I raised my hand to wipe the rivulets of moisture from my eyes and cheeks.

A strange, sticky warmth kissed the soft skin of my face.

I froze, snatching my hand away, my throat cutting off a gasp as I stared at my quivering palms.

Aidan's blood soaked my hands; deepest ruby covered every inch of skin. And, as I studied Aidan's blood on my palms, the sound of Loki's laughter drifted toward me from the open doorway.

---THE END---

(Coming mid-2012)

DEAD EMBERS

A Valkyrie Novel # 2

by

T.G. AYER

Chapter 1 – DEAD EMBERS

"Welcome to the Hollow of the Valkyries—this is your training ground.”

Fen’s voice echoed around us as I breathed the icy air deep into my lungs. The valley floor lay far, far below, but not as far as Odin’s castle on the other side of the mountain. At least the trip down would be easier than our muscle-burning hike up. I hoped.

Fenrir folded his arms and faced me. “Are you ready, Valkyrie Brynhildr?”

I nodded, irritated that he’d used my given name, a name that reminded me that my one claim to fame was of being a clone of the real Warrior Princess Brunhilde who’d lived and died centuries ago.

“You do have to remove your cloak, you know.” He tempered his dry tone with a cheeky grin.

I returned a tight smile and undid the ornate clasp, dropping the dark silky cloak over a large boulder.

“Right, then, face the edge of the cliff and jump.” He spoke the words so matter-of-factly he might as well have invited me for a coffee.

“You're kidding, right?” I asked in horror, half believing he meant his words, half unable to think straight. The sober glance he threw me squashed my urge to burst into laughter. I’d never been afraid of heights, but then again I’d never spent much time in high-rise buildings or on mountaintops as high as Mt. Everest.

Then he laughed, the sound hollow and brittle in the frigid air, and I wondered what had gotten into Fen. I met his eyes, scanning their depths, unsure of what I should do next, of what he really expected me to do. His laughter was bitter, edged with a sadness I couldn’t explain. At first.