Destined (Desolation #3) (22 page)

Do I know that face? That name?

My lady tugs on my leash once more and I push the traitorous thoughts away, focusing on what’s important—my lady, and only her.

Our forces were divided, fighting against the genii on the south, and the Svarts and Giants on the north. Father and Ophelia viewed the scene from atop one of the great rocks that bordered the desert. I remembered the last time I had seen him—when I stood beside him in a similar situation, commanded the genii then as Ophelia seemed to do now. I wondered if she knew she would be just one in a constantly changing retinue of Father’s favorites. How quickly she would fall. I wondered if she even cared. 

The Gardians had reduced the Giants to a handful of groups, all on the run. One climbed the rocks west of us, and while I ran forward I was aware of the mounted Valkyrie flying downward, picking off the giants as they climbed. I was the first to reach those moving north. My sword flashed in the fading sunlight as I sent another giant to his death. I jumped over the enormous man at my feet and lunged forward, only to be caught at my ankle by the one I’d thought dead. He pulled me to the ground, wrapping his fist tightly around my hair. He produced a blade—a dagger for him, but it was as long as my arm. 

He yanked on my hair, forcing my head back and I felt his blade—icy cold and red hot—slice through the skin at my neck. 

My eyes flew open, and I saw nothing but the blue sky, colored with the warm reds and oranges of the setting sun. Everything seemed to slow. I felt the Giant expel his last breath. Felt his hands go lax around me. Felt the warm flow of blood as it sluiced from my neck and down onto my shoulder.

I closed my eyes.

I hadn’t seen the end of the battle. Hadn’t experienced the pleasure of seeing the last of the Giants and Svarts escape through the portals to their worlds. Hadn’t seen what Father did then, with his genii. I tried to send my thoughts to him.

Go,
I said.
Leave them alone.
I tried to fill my words with the tang of commandment, but I heard no reply.

I opened my eyes. Noted how my vision had narrowed to a pinpoint. I saw a tiny patch of blue. Saw a fingertip’s pink-tinged sky.

Closed my eyes.

Odin, I thought.
Protect them. Miri. Cornelius. Longinus. Fahria. All the Gardians who had to pass through the mortal challenge of Midgard.

Please protect Michael.

The Giant’s great fist fell from around my hair and I slipped down until I lay mostly on the dirt, my head cradled on the bend of the big man’s elbow. I tried to lift my head but . . . it was so much easier to just lie still.  

My heart found a new rhythm. One that lulled me into a peaceful rest.

Thump. I opened my eyes, stretching them wide.

Michael. Promise you’ll find James.

Thump. 

Promise you’ll save him. 

Thump. 

I love you. 

Sleep beckoned me and oh, I was so tired. 

I’m coming!
he replied.

I opened my eyes.
Where are you?

Thump.

I’m coming, love.

But I couldn’t wait. Darkness descended on me from the inside out and I closed my eyes.

I hadn’t seen her fall. Didn’t even know I was about to lose her, until she called my name. 

In the moment her voice dropped into my thoughts like rain, I knew.

I’m coming!

With her words came the impression of all we hadn’t said, all the hopes for a future we wouldn’t have. 

Where are you?

Without thought, I shoved a Svart into the portal, and spun around—seeking Desi. Searching for her. I shouted her name. Screamed for her.

I’m coming, love.

But there was no answer, and that silence terrified me more than anything else. I couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not like this.

I ran from one cluster of fighters to the next, though there were precious few left. I found her nowhere. 

My eyes sought out Loki, standing on the rocks above us. “Where is she?” I screamed, letting my cry echo through my thoughts while it tore like thunder through the air, hoping someone—anyone—would find her. 

Loki Became, his Shadow bursting outward and sending a shockwave over the last of the skirmishes. Everyone, including myself, fell to the ground, but I was the first to rise. And that’s when I saw her.

Lying several hundred yards north of me, I saw her pale green tunic, her black hair. 

I ran for her, jumping over and skirting past anyone and anything that stood between us. I cursed the injuries I’d taken to my wings that robbed me of their use. My feet were too slow and with every step I saw the truth of the situation, saw it and dismissed it.
She isn’t dead,
I told myself.

But she did not move.

She can’t be dead.

A shadow passed overhead, but I did not look up. Loki hovered above her. “Don’t you touch her!” I screamed as I ran with all my strength. As I came to her, saw her lying on the arm of a Giant, saw her hand outstretched, palm open, her sword on the ground just out of reach, Loki disappeared.

Blood on her neck.

Blood everywhere.

“No, my love! Don’t leave me!”
Love, love. Don’t leave me.

I tore the Giant’s shirt and pressed the cloth to her neck, telling myself all the while that her heart still beat. Told myself she hadn’t lost too much blood. 

I could feel my knees soaking in it.

I tied the cloth around her neck, fearing if I tied it too tight she wouldn’t be able to breathe, but anxious to stop as much of the alarming flow of blood as possible. With great care I extricated her from the Giant’s dead limbs, laid her upon the blood-soaked ground, pressed my ear to her chest. Willed myself to stop breathing, to stop the beating of my own heart so I could listen for the only sound that mattered. The only thing.

Please
.

Thump.

“Longinus!” I pulled Desi to me, cradled her in my arms as I jumped to my feet. “Fahria!” I ran—ran, I didn’t know where. After stumbling several steps I suddenly stopped, fear finally overriding the adrenaline.

I pressed my ear to her chest.

…

…

Then, oh so quietly, almost imperceptible—

thump.

I threw my head back to scream for help, just as a portal opened and Heimdall was there. I burst onto the Bridge, running, calling to them—calling for anyone who could help me save her.

While I ran, she lay motionless in my arms, her breath a mere whisper against my wrist, her heartbeat indecipherable from my own.
No, my love. Don’t go.

Don’t go
.

My mind ran through the options, raising questions to which I had no answers. Odin had already denied her Valhalla—he’d told me of her choice to go back to Midgard when she’d died at Akaros’ hand. And of course she’d chosen to fight for her friends. She always doubted her worth, but oh, she was the most valiant of us all. But if she couldn’t seek the eternal rest of Valhalla, would she go to Vanaheim and be with her sisters there? Could she, as only part Valkyrie? As Loki’s child? 

Because she was not human, Ascension was also denied her. Where then, could her spirit go? There was only one place I knew for sure that would take her. Loki would croon with pleasure if Desi returned to him. And oh, it would be an eternity of misery for her. And for me.

Don’t go.

Heimdall convinced me to put her onto the lap of a mounted Valkyrie. No stranger to the battle-wounded, the warrior cradled Desi’s head in the crook of her arm, careful to keep her as stationary as possible. She turned the shi’lil who flew as smooth as the wind toward Valhalla. Heimdall clasped onto me, holding me upright while we watched the warrior carry Desi away.

I traveled onward, toward Asgard, and when Odin met me on the Bridge I fell into his arms and cried the sorrow of the battle weary, the sorrow of a general over so many lost soldiers, the agony of one with a broken heart.

 “It is well, my son,” Odin said, his deep voice rumbling through my ears and heart as if they came from both inside and outside of myself. “She yet lives.”

“I must go to her.” I moved to step past Odin, but he restrained me with a hand on my arm.

“She has been taken into the heart of Valhalla, to be tended by her sisters.”

Though my face must have revealed the thoughts of my heart, I still pressed him. “But—”

Odin waved his hand as if to dismiss my concerns. “In this moment all that can be done, is being done. She will be well. You have my word.”

All the adrenaline that had fueled me until this moment left and I all but dropped, all but fell against my Lord.
She will be well.

Odin placed his hand on my shoulder, pressing down a little until I turned my face to his.

“You must return my son. The battle yet lingers and you are needed.”

Beyond us rose the shining city of Asgard and the golden spires of Valhalla. Could I go back? Could I fight a war while my love fought for her life?

“You will give meaning to the sacrifice of your brothers and sisters who have already lost their lives.” My king did not spare my feelings or his own. I would return and fight or else deny my fallen comrades the worth of their souls.

I nodded and turned sharply. 

“Michael,” Odin said, his tone softer, kinder.

I looked over my shoulder. 

“I will send word.”

I sat up, gasping for air, hungry for life. My hands clutched at my throat as memory flooded back—my throat had been slit. I thought I was dead.

And yet . . .

Here I sat in a narrow bed of white, blankets trimmed with gold. On the side table, beside a golden goblet with droplets of condensation on its side, lay my sword and dagger, polished to a mirror-like shine. I grabbed the sword and held it before me, stretching my neck this way and that—no scar. No indication that anything had happened to me at all. 

My thoughts clasped onto the only possible explanation—
I am dead.

The door opened and Fahria strode in. I saw other women at the door, but they stayed in the hall. Fahria closed her eyes and exhaled a long breath.