Dead Embers (29 page)

On my knees, I ignored the bite of the stones on the ground.
I grabbed Mika's hands, struggling, putting all my strength into my upper body;
biceps and triceps strained against the leather of my jacket as I fought
against my Ulfr, my friend and my own betrayed heart.

Mika elbowed me in the chest and shoved me away as I
struggled to force air back into my lungs. She grasped her sword with her free
hand, swinging it around wildly, aiming for my head.

I lay there panting, flat on my back. My heart froze in my
chest as her sword descended, sunlight glinting on the vicious metal as it bore
down on me. I flicked a glance at Mika's crazed expression. She grinned, sure
of her aim.

A swift punch to her abdomen sent the blow slightly left,
and the blade crashed into the stone head of the dwarf queen, shattering what
was left of the dead queen into a million little stones. The remains of Queen
Huld scattered around the clearing like a handful of random pebbles, falling
between the darker stones as if they belonged there.

How fitting.

What she did next was the last thing I expected. Mika, so
intent on preventing me from reaching the goblet, rolled away from me and threw
the crystal against the stone wall behind us. Huge shards of colored glass
rained upon us, and I spun away just in time to avoid being stabbed in the eye.

My sword lay beneath me. The Ulfr bared her teeth again and
lunged. I didn't think, just grabbed at the ground and moved my hand forward
just in time.

Mika threw herself at me. To grapple for my sword or
strangle me. I'd never know. She let out a low, agonized howl that ended in a
visceral growl. Then she rolled away from me, slowly tipping over onto her
back.

The shard glittered, embedded deep in her neck. I'd grabbed
at it, the first thing I could think of to use to defend myself. I hadn't
expected her to throw her entire body weight onto me.

Tears burned my eyes and throat, and I desperately held them
back, fearing the despair I would feel should I give in to my emotions.
"What the hell were you thinking, Mika?" I got to my knees beside
her. She lay choking on blood that streamed from her wound.

"I had to destroy the goblet." Her eyes, still
stark with anger and hatred, narrowed against the glare of the sun.

"Why? You've just destroyed the possibility of Aidan's
recovery. And Siri's. How could you do that?" Saying the words out loud
brought me so much closer to the breaking point. Huge, wracking sobs pushed at
my throat, but I fought them back down. Not now.

"Casualties of war. . . . They are a small price to pay
for the bigger picture," Mika gasped, choking as her words escaped, wet
and sluggish, from her throat.

"What is this big picture? What the hell was so
all-fired important that you had to get yourself killed to get it?" I
yelled, angry and hurt and mourning my friend.

Her reply was so ominous, I could feel the death knell of it
deep in my bones. "The days of the Aesir are at an end. Ragnarok is here,
and I chose my side."

"What side is that?" I wanted to shake her.

"I have chosen the one who is worthy of my loyalty.
More worthy than a father who snuffles after Odin like a traitorous cub. Fenrir
knows not where his loyalty lies." Mika rolled over, palms flat on the
ground. I wanted to stop her, remind her that she did more damage to her
injured body by moving around, but I bit the words back. "My loyalty lies
with my true leader," she said. "The great god Loki."

Loki.

Can we never escape the mad insanity that is Loki?
Anger
welled within me, so visceral, so virulent. But my sadness and disappointment
tamped it down.

"But what about Fen? How could you betray your father
like this?" I sobbed, unable to assimilate the crude fact that Mika had
denied and betrayed her own father.

"Loki is more a father to me than Fenrir will ever be.
Fenrir is the traitor, and he will bring about the end to the reign of the
Aesir no matter how hard he tries not to. He is a fool to think he can change
what is meant to be. Fenrir cannot change his own future." Mika now
crouched, an odd physical act for someone with a gleaming shard of crystal
embedded in the side of her neck. The sliver jutted from the top of her
shoulder, the wound brutal and bloody.

I shook my head. "You betrayed your own father!" I
just couldn't accept that someone who had the privilege of having their father
around would deliberately betray him and all he stood for. Had Fen been my
father I would never have done such a thing to him. Ever. How long had I
dreamed I would someday get my father back? Irrational childish dreams, and yet
they were so real I could still remember.

Mika laughed, and her laughter sounded hollow to my heated
ears. The sound echoed, gurgling and drowning within the warm blood spurting
from her artery. The wolf-warrior slumped backward, collapsing on the gravel,
weakened from so much blood loss. Flat on her back, she met my eyes, and in
that instant I saw something that hurt more than anything she'd done yet. She
was so proud of her actions; not one hint of regret or sadness lay within her
eyes.

It hurt to know that she was so sure of herself, so
convinced that Fenrir was the bad guy.

She died then, while I watched her chest rise and fall, each
breath shorter than the next. Blood leaked from her jagged wound to drip and
pool in the dry sand beneath her, gleaming in the rude brilliance of the
Swartelfheim sun.

At last, when I could no longer bear the scorching heat of
the sun on my head, I rose to my feet. I had to gather every shard and piece of
crystal I could find.

I hesitated, unsure of where I would store the pieces. The
cloak was too large, and I might still need to use it. I'd chosen to wear my
short jacket for this mission and not the long coat—so no deep pockets. Then I
grimaced as my gaze fell on just the thing I could use.

The pillowslip.

I shuddered; the thought of touching fabric still moist with
Queen Huld's blood just grossed me out, but I had little choice. When I reached
the stone door, I pushed it open with ease, despite the crawling fingers of a
strange fatigue that tugged at me. With the fabric tight in my fist, I returned
to the sunlight, blinking against its awful brightness.

The shards of the queen's goblet lay scattered around the
graveled ground like an explosion of a glittering rainbow. I worked slowly,
careful not to break any pieces, careful not to cut myself. At last, I faced my
Ulfr partner.

The last piece lay in Mika's neck, and that was the hardest
for me. I hesitated so many times, standing over her body, casting a mournful
shadow over her still and silent corpse, willing myself to move, to grab it and
give it a firm jerk.

But I was terrified.

Terrified of hurting her. Terrified of getting her blood on
my hands. Terrified of breaking the crystal shard.

Even though common sense said I wouldn't hurt her, since she
was dead, I still felt so terrible, as if I'd be inflicting some horrible pain
on my poor friend. But that was it. She wasn't poor and from what I could tell,
she wasn't a friend. Never had been a friend.

My hand shook as I gripped the shard and tugged, but my
fingers slipped on the slowly cooling blood. I sat back on my heels, turning
away to breathe, pressing the back of my hand against my mouth, unsure if I was
holding back the urge to cry or the urge to vomit.

It didn't matter which.

I tried again, this time wiping the end of the piece of
crystal clean so I could get a better grip. Gripping tight, I took a shattered
breath and then pulled slowly. The shard shifted, and an almost hysterical
scream bubbled up in my throat. It was the most horrible feeling I'd ever
experienced; the shard moving against the muscles within Mika's neck, the
softness of the way the piece of crystal moved inside her throat, against her
flesh.

My knees hurt from pressing my whole weight onto jagged
stones, and the sun bruised my head and back. Another gentle tug and the shard
came free. I'd expected a flood of blood to flow from Mika's neck, but then it
struck me—there wouldn't be any blood because her heart had stopped.

Forever.

Suddenly I felt icy cold. Steeped in a frozen ocean, lost in
a blizzard of grief. I sat back on my heels and wiped furiously at the rest of
the shard. Desperate to remove all traces of Mika from the colored crystal.

I laid it along with the other shards in a small pile within
the open mouth of the pillowslip. With the greatest of care I tied the knot and
stood up abruptly, filled with an anger I couldn't explain.

I was suddenly furious with a lot of people. With Loki for
turning Mika against her father. With Fen for not trying harder with his child.
With Mika herself for betraying him.

And for betraying me.

I placed the pillowslip inside my bag, shuddering at the
thought of the bloody fabric against my weapons. I supposed I should have been
grateful the blood had dried out a bit. Not so bad. Cloak in hand, I paused as
I turned on my heel to walk toward the opening, to get away from this place, to
hightail it to the Bifrost.

But something pulled me back. I couldn't just leave Mika
there like that. I had to bring her back to Asgard. It didn't matter that she
would go back home in disgrace, having betrayed her family. Her body had to be
returned to Asgard, and to Fen, even if I had no idea if Fen would forgive his
daughter.

I had to do my duty.

Resolved, I bent over and grabbed her by her hands, lifting
her limp form into my arms. She was dead weight, pulling me into the ground.
Bracing myself, I slung her body over my shoulder, shifting slightly at the
discomfort of having a body pressed against my wing.

I blinked away my tears. Aidan and Siri were lost to us
forever. All because of Mika's misplaced loyalty.

And Loki's treachery.

As I turned to make my way to the Bifrost, the dragon's eye
bumped against my thigh—heavy in my pocket. Heavy and warm. I shifted,
struggling a little to retrieve the sphere. The golden eye gleamed at me and I
stared back, my sadness deepening to bitter despair. I had failed everyone.
Tyra wouldn't be too happy, either.

I looked away and faced a landscape that in the darkness and
gloom of our arrival had been a shadowy, eerie forest of gnarled bark and
leafless limbs. Now the sunlight threw the black trees into a stark clarity.
Brightly lit bark and leafless limbs pointed at the sky. My laughter echoed,
the sound as hollow and as dead as the trees themselves.

Taking a deep breath, I trudged into the woods, ignoring the
groping fingers of ghost trees, absently rubbing my thumb against the smooth
surface of the dragon's eye. I gritted my teeth.

Thor had told me not to trust anyone.

I'd disobeyed.

I'd let my feelings get the better of me; put my trust and
my life in Mika's hands. Worse, I'd put Aidan's and Siri's lives in her hands.
And she'd betrayed me.

How laughable.

Bitter tears leaked from my eyes, and this time I didn't
have the strength to hold them back. Not now. Not when everything was lost to
me.

Head down, deep in self-pity, I almost walked straight into
the woman standing in my path.

Lady Tyra.

I froze, swallowing a stutter, trying not to make myself
look guilty before I even opened my mouth. Although I was pretty weighed down
with Mika's dead body, it was the remnants of the goblet that filled me with
shame.

"Valkyrie." Lady Tyra nodded in greeting, her pale
blonde hair so cool and regal against the red of her gown. She folded her hands
before her, waiting patiently.

Trouble.

"Lady Tyra," I answered, hoping I sounded graceful
despite talking with a corpse on my shoulder.

"Put the Ulfr down, child." Tyra gave Mika a
distasteful stare. I heaved the dead weight off my shoulder and allowed Mika's
body to fall slowly to the barren ground. Around us, the dead trees waved bare
talons at us and despite the sunshine, the place held the promise of all things
bad.

I shivered, fear weakening my resolve. I could try prideful
denial, but in the end I knew I was afraid of the wrath of this powerful dragon
matriarch. I could almost hear the remains of the goblet chinking within my
bag, laughing at me, so ready to give me away.

"Where is the goblet, Brynhildr?" Tyra's face
looked so patient, but behind her kind and gentle voice lay an inch of steel
and within her eyes burned twin flames of warning.

"I'm afraid I have failed." I could do no more
than whisper the words, hanging my head in grief and shame.

Cool fingers touched my chin and lifted my face, bringing my
gaze up to meet with hers. "Where is the goblet, child?"

I scrabbled within my bag and withdrew the folded, bloodied
fabric, careful not to jar the shards, careful not to stab myself with them. I
knelt, laying the pillowslip on the ground, untying it to reveal the remains of
the goblet in all its broken glory.

Then I rose, the urge to turn and run so strong I had to
press my feet into the ground to keep myself from bolting. Tyra was so quiet.

Too quiet.

I snuck a peek at her face and gave a silent sigh of relief.
She hadn't turned a hideous shade of killer dragon purple. Not yet, anyway.

"I'm so sorry, Lady Tyra. I've failed you and I've
failed Aidan." I threw a dirty glance at Mika, my anger and hatred for her
still so strong that a part of me wished I hadn't ended her life only by
accident. A white-hot fury surged within my blood, coloring my thoughts. Good
thing Mika wasn't alive, because if she were, I'd be tempted to end her sorry
life on purpose.

I blinked, shocked at the level of my anger.

Tyra shook her head, a tinge of sadness in her golden eyes.
My face must have broadcast my feelings, because she spoke gently in response
to my unspoken thoughts. "Your heart is good and honest, Valkyrie. Do not
attempt to be someone you are not. To harden your heart is to remove it."
A sad curve formed on her lips as she looked at the shards glittering on the
ground.