Dead Embers (31 page)

Or would I?

Maybe I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to endanger
the life of an innocent person just to ensure Aidan would live.

I took the coward's way out and glanced over at Tyra, hoping
she would make the decision for me. She drew closer, her rich skirts swishing
on the smooth marble, to stare at the swirling liquid. It still spun in a tiny
whirlpool even though I'd stopped twirling the goblet a long while ago.

"I think perhaps your young man would need the elixir
first."

I couldn't hold back the soft sigh of relief that passed my
lips. Neither could I bear the thought of the little girl having to wait any
longer than necessary. "Can't we just both take half?"

Tyra shook her head. "I suspect the elixir will only
work while it remains within the goblet." Tyra glanced past me, looking to
Odin for corroboration.

"The Grand Lady Tyra is correct, Brynhildr. You will
need to take the goblet and the elixir to Aidan and revive him first."

I hesitated. "But what about Siri?"

"Siri can wait, Brynhildr." Lady Tyra grasped my
arm in an uncharacteristically tender move. "It is just a matter of time
before my grandchild drinks of the cure, and time means naught to her. Perhaps
time is more important to you and to your young Warrior. So please. Go to him
and make him better. I know you will not be long; therefore I will wait
here."

"Brynhildr, Tyra is right," said Odin. "Aidan
must be attended to first. The scout teams are in need of bolstering, and Brody
is still somewhere out there waiting to be rescued."

Odin's words struck me with a shuddering force. I'd been
deep within the bowels of Swartelfheim, battling evil dwarf queens and fighting
for my life against my traitorous Ulfr partner, and for me, the real world had
pretty much ceased to be. Now that I'd returned to Asgard, I was reminded of
the grave danger to all the
einherjar
. Reminded that life wasn't going
back to normal. There was no
normal
anymore.

"Come, Brynhildr. I will take you straight to Freya's
Hall." Odin's voice echoed a little in the gigantic room. He held out his
hand, beckoning me to take it. Was he really asking me to hold his hand?

I tried to contain my surprise, but I didn't do a very good
job. Odin laughed at my confused expression. "The gods have a special
access to the Bifrost. We are able to enter it at will, and wherever we require
it."

I remembered how Freya had disappeared with Aidan in her
arms. In just a blink, she'd been gone. And then, for the first time, something
made a lot of sense. "Is that how Sigrun brought me to Asgard?"

Odin nodded, and his single eye crinkled at the corners with
a smile. "You are very astute, my child. I helped Sigrun to go to your
home and bring you to Asgard safely. When the gods use the Bifrost, the trip is
a little different."

"Speaking of the Bifrost, my lord, the Lady Tyra has
enquired about Heimdall." I frowned, since I still had no idea who this
Heimdall person was. Admittedly, my Asgard general knowledge was still sadly
lacking.

Odin's face darkened and he sat back down on his throne. I
gulped, suddenly afraid I'd asked the worst question possible, but I couldn’t
retract it. And, now that Odin's scowl made the answer seem more intriguing, I
no longer wanted to take it back.

"Who is Heimdall, my lord?" I ventured the
question.

Odin's smile had disappeared, his face now just terribly
sad. "Heimdall is the guardian of the Bifrost."

"What happened to him? I've never seen him
around."

"Many moons ago, we discovered that Heimdall had
disappeared from Asgard," said Odin, his voice now as sad as his
expression.

"Disappeared?" Tyra interjected, her tone a tad
too loud and shrill.

"Yes, Tyra, my dear. One day, a few months ago,
Heimdall was just not here. Gjallarhorn was gone too."

"Gjallarhorn?" I asked, too confused to keep
silent, despite the tension hanging in the air.

This time the All-Father seemed to welcome my question.
Maybe he realized I had a few sizeable gaps in my Asgard knowledge. He stroked
his chin as he answered. "Heimdall possesses a horn called Gjallarhorn. It
is the horn with which Heimdall is meant to summon the gods when Ragnarok
commences." He shared a worried glance with Frigga, and she leaned over to
squeeze his hand between hers.

If Odin needs comforting, then this Heimdall thing must
be bad.

"And without the horn?" I asked.

"Without the horn, the task of summoning all the gods
will become ten times more difficult. The call of Gjallarhorn can be heard
across all nine realms. Such is the power of Heimdall's horn."

"And you have not sent anyone to look for him?"
Tyra snapped, her eyes blazing, almost accusing. Her bold reprimand shocked me.
No one spoke like that to the All-Father.

Odin shook his head, a deep sorrow shadowing his single grey
eye. "No, Tyra. We have no idea where he is or if he will return."

"And what does Mimir say?" The edge of an angry
challenge still sharpened Tyra's voice.

"Sadly, Mimir cannot tell. He can see nothing but
shadows, not even a glimpse of Heimdall's life or future."

Something told me this was very, very bad. My gut clenched
with an unknown fear for the missing god.

"But why, why would he leave?" Tyra stuttered,
almost pleading for an answer.

"He did not just leave, my dear. Gulltoppr is still in
Asgard," said Odin, his voice neutral though his single eye still blazed.
With what? Anger or fear? Or a little of both?

I risked another interruption. "Who—"

Tyra answered before I even finished my question.
"Gulltoppr is Heimdall's golden stallion. I know Heimdall; he would never
leave his beloved horse behind." She glowered at Odin. "There must be
something we can do."

But Odin shook his head, the weight of his sadness forcing
him to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees. "Mimir has no sight
of him, Tyra. You must understand we have no idea where to look. And we are so
shorthanded we cannot spare anyone to go looking on the off-chance of finding
him."

Tyra nodded, though her jaw hardened, the muscles tensing in
her cheek. Odin rose and stepped off the dais. He paused beside the dragon
matriarch and touched her shoulder. And then I understood that perhaps Heimdall
meant more to Tyra than a mere acquaintance, or even just a friend. Odin
squeezed her shoulder, then walked to me.

"Come, Brynhildr, we must hurry. Hold on to that
goblet, my dear." Odin beckoned, and I hurried to stand beside him. I
wasn't keen to test his patience by taking my own sweet time or asking any more
ignorant questions. I wanted to get to Aidan as fast as was possible.

"Keep calm, and take care of the goblet."

Okay. Goblet, got it. Can we go already?

And then in a few short moments I stood in Freya's Hall, my
stomach churning and an invisible tornado whipping my hair about my face and
sending the feathers on my wings aflutter.

Odin blinked away in a rush of air, but I barely noticed. I
was too busy trying to keep hold of the contents of my stomach. I blew strands
of hair out of my face and swallowed repeatedly. Despite the warmth of the wood
and the fires, Freya's empty hall felt hollow, spiritless, as if no ghost or
shadow dared to linger.

I tread cautiously across the wooden floor, gripping the
goblet, careful not to tilt the fragile glass, so careful not to lose a drop of
the precious bloody liquid. My concentration on the elixir took my eyes off my
surroundings for a few brief moments, and I paused and scanned the room again,
my heart knocking hard against my ribs.

Empty dais, empty throne, empty hall.

No Freya, and, more importantly, no Astrid.

I let out a little sigh of relief . . . then wanted to kick
myself. Why the hell should I care whether Astrid was around or not? I'd proved
I could fulfill a task that even the Warrior Brunhilde had been unable to
complete. I'd shown Astrid up, lived up to her challenge, proved I had better
sword-fighting skills than she had.

And yet I still felt a slight trepidation at the thought of
facing Astrid again. The girl just plain didn't like me. In fact, I'd bet my
sword that she hated me.

I headed toward the double wooden doors to the right of the
dais, hoping my memory was good enough to guide me to Aidan's room. But I
didn't get more than a few steps farther before a sudden rush of feathers and
air swirled toward me. The faint scent of perfume trailed the gust like an
invisible scattering of petals.

Guess I should have known better than to think that Astrid
would pass up an opportunity to get me alone. She hovered before me, pristine
wings outspread, sending a deceptively gentle breeze toward me. She looked
decidedly angelic.

Well, with Astrid what you see certainly ain't what you
get.

No way was I going to give her the satisfaction of craning
my neck to look up at her. I just kept an eye on the distance between her hands
and the gleaming hilt of her sword.

I really didn't want to fight, not here, not now. I'd spill
the elixir for sure, no matter how careful I was. But I didn't dare set it on
the floor. Not with Astrid armed and in kill mode right in front of me. All I
could do was wait for her next move.

Astrid landed; she touched the ground with the tip of a graceful
toe, her hair floating around her in soft blonde clouds. She exuded a beauty so
ethereal, so angelic, that it just didn't seem fair to me, because Astrid
possessed a heart as icy as the depths of Hel's frigid wastelands. Not to
mention the fact that she was far too eager to relieve me of my head.

I didn't plan to give her the chance.

"I see you have returned, Brynhildr," Astrid said,
her tone amused, with a hint of arrogance.

Yeah, tell me something I don't know.
But I kept that
thought to myself, saying, "I have the elixir. I need to see Aidan."

With my eyes glued to Astrid, and holding the goblet as
steady as I could, I took a few careful steps toward the double doors that
would take me to Aidan's room. But Astrid rose and flew right into my path, a hard
challenge in her eye. Her cool blue gaze trailed my precious burden, and my
stomach lurched. I imagined the irreplaceable liquid freezing over from the
touch of her stare. But I met those ice-blue eyes head on, refusing to allow
her to intimidate me.

"Do you really think that elixir of yours is going to
help Aidan?" Her sweet voice echoed gently around the pillared hall. I
hated the way she said Aidan's name, as if she knew him so well.

How well can a girl get to know an unconscious guy,
anyway?

"It will work. Odin confirmed the elixir will
work." I wanted to throttle myself as soon as the words left my mouth. I
sounded like I was trying really hard to convince myself that it would work.
And I’d just given Astrid every reason to try to sabotage me.

The answering smile on Astrid's face confirmed she knew how
desperate I was, knew the power she had over me. "Oh dear, Brynhildr. Do
you have doubts now? I hope I was not the one who sowed the seeds of doubt in
your mind." The fake sincerity in her voice sounded almost perfect, and
then she spoiled it all by laughing. A laugh that grated even when it sounded
halfway angelic.

I steadied my nerves, relaxing the desperate hold my fingers
had on the goblet. As Astrid's laughter petered away, I took a few slow, small
steps backward to the nearest table along the wall, and set the goblet down as
fast as I dared. The ruby liquid sloshed, but thankfully nothing spilled. To
the right of the goblet sat an array of ancient daggers. They gleamed
malevolently, and reflected in each shiny blade was Astrid's cold, blue-eyed
glare.

Without the burden of the goblet, I was free to grab my
sword if and when I needed it. I faced Astrid, never taking my eyes off the
other Valkyrie. She was certainly no friend. Never had been. I found it hard to
believe Sigrun's revelation that Astrid had been part of Brunhilde's life, and
that the guy she'd loved had left her for Brunhilde. Sad story, and if it were
true I could understand a bit of her coldness. But I could never accept her
icy, bitter hatred for me. I'd done nothing to her and yet she hated me as if I
were the one who'd stolen her boyfriend.

My thoughts touched on Aidan, and I hoped that Astrid hadn't
decided that he was up for the taking, since he was here in Hel with her.

Alone. Without me.

My hands quivered, but I focused on Astrid and bounced
lightly on my knees. My wings fluttered at my back, reminding me that I
actually knew how to fly now. The other girl would find herself equally matched
should she decide to fly away. Which she did. As Astrid trained her gaze on my
face, she rose into the air, her eyes a deep, impossibly dark shade of blue.
She hovered above me at least by a head.

I gave a quick nod and shook out my wings. Rich rusty red,
both wings puffed wide behind me. Astrid raised an eyebrow as if to say
Yeah
right, you are no match for me
. That was okay with me. She would soon have
to think again. I rose slowly, bringing myself to her level, my wings
fluttering lightly at my back.

Astrid's eyes widened, their cold blue paling to an almost
colorless ice. Her jaw worked as she gritted it, probably struggling not to ask
me when I'd learned to fly. A little glow of joy ignited somewhere deep inside
me, reveling in the knowledge that in some tiny way I'd already triumphed over Astrid.

I tossed her a tiny smile. "I take it you aren't going
to let me pass?"

She just glared.

I reached for the sword at my waist and so did Astrid. Both
metal blades sang as they left their scabbards. Although Astrid's sword
possessed a beauty in its own song, it was no match for my sword.