Dead Embers (2 page)

So, time for my telling off at last. A few days hiding in my
quarters must have gotten tongues wagging and a whole heap of people worried if
the Supreme Father of the Norse Pantheon was so concerned for the well-being of
a nobody like me.

"I understand, my lord."

Odin nodded at my words, but I wasn't finished, and I hadn't
intended to just agree with him. I couldn't agree. Tears rose and singed my
throat, and I added, "But I should really have paid closer attention to
Loki, and to Aidan. Aidan was my responsibility. And no matter how I look at
it, I failed."

Odin's mouth twitched, and his one-eyed expression shifted
from pleasant to scowling. His eyebrows, thick and wiry, almost met at the
middle of his forehead. I glared back without flinching. Somehow, I had no fear
of this great god. Not that I lacked respect for him or his almighty power. I
knew he cared about me, and something told me he would never harm me.

But I was still mad at him.

A soft rumbling like distant thunder sounded as Odin cleared
his throat. "Come now, Brynhildr. You must pull yourself out of this grief
and self-blame. It is time to move ahead. Time to act instead of feeling sorry
for yourself." Odin paused, and a flush spread across his pale cheeks;
whatever he'd been thinking had just angered him. When he spoke again, he
raised his voice. "Life is moving along without you, and I can no longer
allow you to wallow in self-pity. I need you on the front lines."

Something about the urgency in his words piqued my
curiosity. "What's going on?" My forehead creased as I looked around
the room at the gathered troops, then back at Odin.

Odin's gaze shifted to something behind me, just for an
instant, and then his eyes met mine again with a fierce intensity. "We
have assembled the scout teams," the All-Father said. "And Fenrir
needs to train and dispatch the teams. We need you, Brynhildr, and we cannot
wait."

Bootsteps scruffed the marble behind me, the sound making me
glance over my shoulder, just as a new voice spoke.

"Well, I thought I would have to come and drag you out
of your room by your lovely red hair, Bryn!" Fen's voice rang through the
hall as he strode toward the dais.

His teasing brought a small smile to my lips. As much as I'd
stubbornly denied it all this time, I now had to admit I had a certain fondness
for Fenrir, despite the unfortunate fact that he happened to be the son of the
god who'd stabbed Aidan. Or the fact that he also just happened to be a living,
breathing, super-strong werewolf. He grinned at me and slapped my shoulder as
he stopped beside me.

"What say you, Bryn, are you ready to return to
Midgard? We have a fair amount of trouble to attend to," Fen said.

"What do you mean?" My eyes flicked from Fen to
Odin. "What's going on?"

"Mimir has spoken," Odin said, his voice booming.
"The Vanir have placed their spies in Midgard. People in strategic and
important positions. Positions that will be sure to undermine the power of the
gods."

I still didn't understand what this had to do with me. Had
the god Mimir seen something in my future? I cast a glance at Fen, but his eyes
were on Odin, waiting for the Father of the Gods to finish.

"Brynhildr, we have to increase our effort to gather
more Warriors. We are no longer in a position to wait. We are creating an elite
scout team, one that will do both Search and Retrieval, and do it in double or
triple the volume of the old teams. And we will be including the Warriors,
too."

This news startled me enough that I risked interrupting.
"But I thought the scout teams were always Valkyrie and Ulfr?"

Odin's scowl darkened, tracking deeply above his eyebrows.
"Yes, they are, and always have been," he said. "But things are
different now. Our army of Warriors has been depleted over time. Retrievals are
occurring less and less often. Our army is no longer at a capacity that will
ensure our success at Ragnarok."

Fen grumbled, "We need more Warriors, and we are just
not getting them anymore."

"Why aren't we getting new Warriors?" I blinked.
Confusion clouded my brain as a dull headache set in. I was starting to think I
should have stayed in my room.

"That is what we need to find out," answered Fen.
"And that is why we need a skilled, strong and courageous team." He
gripped my shoulder and gave it a light shake.

"So who's on the team?" I asked.

"Joshua, Aimee and Sigrun, plus our Ulfr."

"Joshua and Aimee?" My jaw dropped. "But they
aren't even trained properly." As soon as I spoke I regretted my outburst.
Who was I to judge, when I'd been so deeply immersed in self-blame and
self-pity. Fen's next words confirmed my thoughts.

"Bryn, the whole Nine Realms did not stop when you went
to find Brisingamen. Nor did it stop when Aidan was poisoned." He smiled a
little, perhaps to take the edge off his words.

Too right. It was just my world that had ground to a
halt.

Fen jabbed his hand toward the back of the hall, where my
two friends from Craven stood among the crowd. "Joshua and Aimee have
trained long and hard these past few weeks, and from their progress they are
ready enough to take on this mission."

Aimee grinned at me, and Joshua flashed a thumbs-up. My
heart warmed at the sight of them, and I gave them a small, happy wave.
Adrenalin surged through me at the very thought of working again, of training
again, and for a brief moment I forgot the steady ache in my heart. It had
taken me far too long to embrace who and what I was: a real, living, breathing
Valkyrie—and the only one in the history of Asgard born as a Valkyrie.
Accepting that news would've been hard had it not been for my friends. And now
I had the opportunity to work beside them.

I grinned at Fen. "So when do we leave?"

"Patience, Brynhildr." Fen's dark eyes narrowed to
lupine slits, and my grin dissolved. He hadn't called me anything but Bryn in a
long while now, and he knew the full name irked me. But I let it slide.

"You have a few things to learn," he said.

I crossed my arms, my tense shoulders no doubt revealing my
stubborn streak. I didn't want to be held back any longer. I'd beaten a fire
giant for heaven's sake . . . what more did they expect me to learn?

Fen's eyebrows rose an inch, his eyes gleaming in amusement.
My wings fluttered in nervous response as he fixed his stare upon them. I
opened my mouth, but Fen's next words startled me into silence, forcing me to
swallow whatever smartass quip hovered on my tongue.

"Those things are useless until you actually learn how
to use them, you know?"

For the first time since I'd scrubbed Aidan's blood from my
hands, a thrill of excitement coursed through me—sweet and hot and filled with
delight.

I was going to learn how to fly!

Fenrir shoved the carved palace doors open, and a blast of
cold air struck my face. He headed around the stone building, walking briskly.
I followed in silence. The sword hilt at my side clinked against my chainmail
vest, the noise echoing off the palace's tall walls.

When we reached the end of the wall, I paused for a moment
to gaze at the impressive structure emerging from the side of the snow-kissed
mountain. The full majesty of Odin’s white stone palace bore down on me, and
yet the weight of it was hardly oppressive. It seemed to impart a bit of that
majesty to me. I smiled, grateful to borrow from its strength.

I needed strength, now more than ever. Sure, I wanted to
learn how to fly, but I wasn't a real Valkyrie. Not like all the other
Valkyries. They were chosen after a lifetime of earning their position in
Odin's army. I, on the other hand, was a fraud. I hadn't earned my place. I was
just a clone, created in a test tube by a father who'd lied to me my entire
life. What if something went wrong? What if I couldn't fly at all? A sudden
violent urge to run turned my legs into a bundle of tense nerves and muscles.

But fleeing was not an option.

I gritted my teeth, suddenly not looking forward to this
training session with the Ulfr general. My wings fluttered at my back, fine-tuned
to the butterflies that thrashed around in my stomach. A Valkyrie warrior
maiden should be brave and strong. Unfortunately, this Valkyrie happened to be
a great big chicken.

Up ahead, Fen barked my name. "Bryn!"

I dragged my eyes from the beauty of the palace, and my
thoughts from the mire of my nervous doubts, and trudged after him, kicking at
clumps of snow-drowned stones, just in time to see him disappear behind a tall
standing stone.

At first I assumed Fen meant to lead me to a special
training area behind the palace, but nothing of the sort existed here. Just
snow and great, big, human-sized rocks littering the ground. I scowled and used
his tracks in the snow to find his path. He'd branched to the right, away from
the palace boundary, toward the craggy boulders and the snow-covered mountain
peaks high above.

Icy fingers of cold clawed at my tongue and throat as I
huffed and hurried after him. Winter had already taken Asgard in her grasp when
I'd lost Aidan to Loki’s venom. Lost him to Freya’s Hel-bound ministrations.
But within the last week, winter’s fist had tightened mercilessly, deepening
the season's dark and frigid ache.

A gust of wind whipped my hair around my face, and I tugged
at it impatiently, trying to pay attention to my footing as I followed Fen.
Soon I caught sight of him again, a dark shape amongst the gigantic boulders.
Pulling my woolen cloak closer, I bent against the driving gusts that grew in
strength as we plodded up the face of the mountain— and stopped only when I
almost ploughed straight into Fen’s back as he came to a sudden halt.

I scowled at him, disgusted that despite my Valkyrie
strength I was still huffing and puffing like the awful storybook wolf that had
scared the living daylights out of three poor little piglets. And before me,
the real wolf barely acknowledged the stress of the hike.

"Why are we stopping?" I tried to swallow my gasps
for air, tried to put on a strong front. Fen’s lip curved in a dry smirk—he so
wasn't buying it.

"I do not want to carry you up the mountain,
Valkyrie," he replied, voice as cool as the mountain air, handsome face
unaffected by the biting wind.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, then swallowed whatever
I'd meant to say. My forehead scrunched as I pretended to seriously consider
his option. "I'm thinking that may be a very good idea, Fen."

He just shook his head as if I were a silly child begging
for a ride on his shoulders. "Not very likely, warrior maiden of
Odin."

"Well fine, if you put it that way I guess I’ll have to
walk, then." I bent over as air whistled through my lungs. A glance over
my shoulder confirmed that Fen seemed in no hurry, so I shifted to admire the
view while my breathing steadily began to resemble a human's more than a
panting pack dog's.

Magnificent.

The beauty of the palace and the Valley of Asgard stole the
breath from my lungs all over again.

We stood just above the tallest spire of the palace, and
only now did I understand its size. I'd known Odin's abode, with its
labyrinthine passages, housed his half of the Valkyrie recruits: a veritable
army living within the palace, each Valkyrie with her own quarters. Not to
mention rooms for the servants who brought our meals, who tended to our
garments and our armor. And I was pretty sure there was a whole lot of the
palace I hadn't even seen yet.

From our vantage point on this mountain of stone, the
Valkyries' bathing pools on our left were tiny shimmering ponds, glistening
like a multitude of mirrors in the pale morning sun.

Beyond the pools, further up the hill, sat Valhalla, guarded
by the gleaming Glasir tree with its magnificent golden leaves, now dappled
with snow. The sight of Valhalla brought Aidan to my mind, and with him came
memories of Freya and her strange ways. A shadow crossed my thoughts, keeping
the weak sunshine at bay. I shivered, and even that slight, jittery movement
brought me back to awareness.

I stood at the edge of a deadly precipice.

Around me, angry shards of grey and black stone rose like
hundreds of Gothic sentinels. Snow laced the jagged edges. High above, majestic
mountain peaks towered, beckoning us with their vicious yet ethereal beauty.

"Enough rest, Valkyrie. Come," Fen snapped. Icy
air twisted beside me as he swept toward the path again, cloak flying, boots
crunching on the gravelly path. A clump of pebbles rattled and rolled down the
slope, flying off the edge of the cliff. I waited to hear the sharp little
cracks of rock against rock as they landed.

Nothing.

I stamped the warmth back into my booted feet and followed
the wolf man, staring daggers at his back. He was in a strange mood today. He
didn't seem to have much to say. Not that he was the most talkative Asgardian
I’d ever met. As I pursued Fen's disappearing back, I pondered our tangled,
complicated relationship. He was many things to me: friend, mentor, secret love
of my best friend, Sigrun.

And son of Loki.

I gritted my teeth. To avoid thoughts of that treacherous
excuse for a god, I surged on, concentrating on the hike.

We stopped only twice more, short snatches in time that
barely allowed me to gulp down a breath and did nothing to ease the burning
fire in my muscles, especially with the added burden of my wings.

Just when I was certain I could no longer endure the flames
of exertion, we reached a large shelf of stone. I held onto the nearest rock
wall and concentrated on catching my breath, straining, resisting my body's
desire to faint. Blood pounded in my head, and my breath came in short, sharp
bursts.

Not enough air.

My vision clouded, eyes filling with little dancing
starbursts, and for a moment I was only vaguely aware of smoothed stone beneath
my fingers—and, of course, the desperate icy coldness of the air.