Perfekt Order (The Ære Saga Book 1) (41 page)

“I can’t take this.” I turned to Brynn. “I
have to know what they’re doing.”

“Absolutely not.” Brynn shook her head.
“There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near that scene. Tyr would
kill me.”

“Please,” I begged. Tears filled my eyes. “I
can’t lose him. I have to see that he’s okay.”

“What if he isn’t okay? Do you want to see
that, too?”

My insides lurched. Tyr had to be all right.
But that wasn’t the only problem with my request. As much as I
needed to be there to support him, I didn’t want to be a
distraction. And if Tyr saw me watching him, I knew he wouldn’t be
able to help worrying about me.

The tears spilled over, and I swiped at my
cheeks. “Once they’re outside the barrier, can they see inside
it?”

“No.” Brynn shook her head. “The enchantment
works like a mirage—the gods who have access to the compound only
see the shimmer of the protection from the outside, nothing more.
For everyone else, this place just looks like a deserted cove.”

“Good.” I wiped my nose with my sleeve. “Then
take me somewhere inside the barrier where I can see over the
dunes. I’ll know I’m there for him, but he won’t.”

“Unless he picks up on your thoughts,” Brynn
pointed out.

“He promised he’d stay out of my head.” I
sniffled. “And besides, my thoughts here are going to be the same
as my thoughts anywhere else. I’m worrying about him, either
way.”

Brynn glanced at Forse, who stood on Elsa’s
porch. He nodded, and she gave me a stern look. “I’ll let you
watch. But we’re staying here.”

“How am I going to see over the dune? It’s
thirty feet high.”

“Oh, honey. I’m a valkyrie.” Brynn put her
fingers between her lips and let out a wolf whistle. Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw Forse raise and lower his arm, but I didn’t
pay much attention to the gesture.

Because at that moment, an enormous winged
horse landed on the grass. It was white, with long silver hair
woven in an intricate series of braids. It easily stood ten-feet
tall, with intimidating haunches and silver hooves.

“Mia, Fang. Fang, Mia.” Brynn made the
introductions. The horse nodded at me while I stared,
dumbstruck.

“Your horse has wings.”

“Duh.” Brynn rolled her eyes. She climbed on
its back easily and held out a hand. “She’s a pegasus. Now, are we
going or not?”

I grabbed her hand and struggled to climb
onto the horse. Without a saddle, there wasn’t anywhere for me to
get leverage, and I didn’t want to wedge my foot in the poor
animal’s leg. Brynn wrapped her fingers around my forearm, and
lifted me with an ease that made it clear the valkyrie was anything
but human
.
My arms wrapped around Brynn’s waist, and I
rested my heels against Fang’s ribs. She shimmied.

“Just so you know, I’ve never ridden
bareback.”

Brynn stared at me. “Well, have you ever
ridden a pegasus?”

Point, valkyrie.

“Just hold on. We’ll take care of the rest,
ja,
Fang
?
” She nudged the animal with her heel and
Fang took off. I tried not to scream while we hurtled upward in a
tight circle. We came to a stop forty feet in the air. When Fang
flapped her wings, we hovered directly above the spot where we’d
just been sitting.

A rush of fear chilled me. I wished I’d
stayed on the ground.

The gods and the wolf were locked in battle
on the sand. Freya kept guard at the perimeter of the compound,
lunging with her rapier each time Fenrir got too close. He snarled
at the weapon, baring his yellow teeth. Freya didn’t flinch. With
each growl, she simply squared her shoulders and struck again,
jabbing at Fenrir’s dripping fangs until he backed up. When he
charged, she pulled a dagger out of her back pocket. She swung her
weapons at the wolf, the blades moving so fast they blurred. Fenrir
let out a yelp. Freya swiped again and Fenrir took two steps back
to the water. He pawed at his ear. Freya kept her swords at the
ready, but her face was triumphant as she wiped the blood from her
blade.

Fenrir stomped the sand with a vicious howl,
while Tyr and Henrik closed in on each side. Tyr stalked a half
circle around Fenrir in a hunter’s crouch, crossbow still strapped
across his back. Henrik moved opposite the war god, twirling his
Samurai swords in slow figure-eights. Fenrir whipped his head back
and forth between the gods.

He lunged for Tyr.

My breath caught in my throat as Fenrir
closed the gap between them. Tyr bent at the knees and flew into
the air. He met Fenrir ten feet above the ground. The wolf struck
Tyr’s face with one paw, leaving thick claw marks across Tyr’s
cheek. Tyr didn’t flinch. He grabbed the animal’s leg and bit down
with his teeth. The sound of crunching bones echoed across the
beach.

Fenrir howled again. It was an agonized sound
that bounced off the dunes. The god and the wolf crashed to the
ground, scrambling apart. Freya saw her chance and lunged for
Fenrir, driving him away from Tyr. The wolf was so focused on
Freya’s rapier, he didn’t see Henrik approach from behind. Henrik
swung his swords in vicious circles over his head. He swiped at the
canine’s haunches so quickly his weapons were a blur of silver.

Henrik sliced Fenrir’s leg and Tyr held out
his hand, sending a beam of magic that shot the animal into the
air. Blood gushed from Fenrir’s open vein, covering the sand in a
shower of red. The wolf hovered over the ground, shrieking in pain,
while Tyr, Henrik and Freya shifted positions beneath him. Fenrir
was losing a lot of blood, and the minute he touched the ground
he’d find himself outnumbered, if not outmaneuvered. From my perch
on the flying horse, I allowed myself a moment of relief.

That was when the dragon swept in.

The beast rose from the ocean outside our
protective dome like a sunken Viking ship, its head breaking the
surface in one smooth movement. Its skin was an inky purple, with
sharp black plates along its spine and a wrecking ball-sized orb at
the end of its tail. The orb was cloaked in thick spikes.

“What. Is. That?” I clung to Brynn’s
waist.

“I think it’s Hel’s guard, Garm. Hel would
have sent her lackey when her brother called. She doesn’t leave her
post.” Brynn stared at the dragon in awe. “I’ve never seen Garm in
person. I always figured she was a dog. You know, like ‘the hound
of Hel’? Guess I should have paid better attention in my Dark
Realms lectures.”

“The dragon’s a girl?” My eyeballs burned as
the dragon spewed fire from her mouth. Even at this distance, the
heat was debilitating.

“Yes.” Brynn gripped Fang’s neck with white
knuckles. “Mia, you don’t need to see this. Let me take you back
down.”

“I don’t want to leave Tyr.” The words came
out on a sob.

“Mia,” Brynn pleaded. “Hel’s guard doesn’t
leave survivors.”

“Please,” I whispered.

Brynn was quiet, but the way she set her jaw
spoke volumes.

On the ground, the gods circled beneath the
wolf. I presumed they were working out the best way to tie him up
before the dragon got any closer. Blood still flowed freely from
Fenrir’s leg. His howl caught Garm’s attention, and the dragon
swooped over the ocean. She was easily forty feet long from nose to
tail, with five-inch claws dangling beneath thick legs. She flew
effortlessly to the edge of the shore, then blew a stream of fire
at Fenrir. Instead of burning his fur, the fire acted as a healing
agent. It stopped the flow of blood and Fenrir’s legs went from
limp and dangling, to firm and strong.
Did the dragon just reset
the wolf’s broken legs?

Tyr and Henrik locked eyes and grinned. I had
to shake my head. It was so like them to have fun, even in the
worst possible situation.

Henrik bolted south along the shore. He swung
his swords over his head so the moonlight bounced off their silvery
surface. The dragon’s head turned toward the moving reflection. She
took off after Henrik, shooting fire from her mouth as she flew.
Henrik used his blades as shields, deflecting each inferno with a
dexterity that left me breathless. It would have been a beautiful
dance, if Henrik’s life wasn’t on the line.

While Henrik drew the dragon toward the
rocks, Tyr and Freya prepared to take on the wolf. They took up
arms on opposite sides of the beast—Tyr at the shoreline, Freya
against the compound’s barrier. Fenrir pawed at the ground. He
turned in a slow circle.

Tyr drew the crossbow over his shoulder and
took aim. “You’re trapped, Fenrir. Submit yourself to Odin or
prepare to meet your end.”

The wolf snarled, a stream of angry sounds
passing through his lips.

“He’s saying Tyr’s wrong. Jörmungandr and Hel
will come when he calls them, and together they’ll wipe out the
gods
and
take down the compound.” Brynn shook her head.

“You can speak wolf?” I asked
incredulously.

“Can’t you?” Brynn whispered over her
shoulder.

“No,” I muttered.

“Then Odin and Thor will come, and we’ll wipe
out you
and
your siblings,” Tyr countered.

As he spoke, a bolt of lightning shot from
the sky. It landed in the sand where Fenrir’s blood had gathered,
creating a molten-hot pool of crimson glass. Fenrir stared at the
pool, then whipped his head from Freya to Tyr and back. His growl
came out in a bitter hiss.

“He’s saying he won’t surrender,” Brynn
translated. “He knows Odin would have killed him if it wasn’t for
Tyr, and he doesn’t trust the gods. He wants to know what Odin’s
terms would be for a truce. He knows Thor’s bolt could have hurt
him if he’d wanted to. The lightning was a warning.”

“I thought Thor was the God of Thunder,” I
whispered back.

“He multitasks.” Brynn waved her hand.

“He missed on purpose?” I shouted. “What the
hell?”

“We need him alive, remember?” Brynn
said.

Cheese and freaking crackers.
I
shifted my attention to the sand.

“Fair enough,” Tyr said. “Odin’s requests are
simple. He wants you to stay away from Asgard, Midgard, Alfheim and
Vanaheim. Is that something you’re willing to do?”

Fenrir snarled. Then he nodded once.

“Excellent.” Tyr looked at Freya and she
pulled the ribbon from her back pocket. “Odin also wants you to
wear this ribbon. It’s a tracking device. To make sure you comply
with the terms.”

Fenrir let out a series of growls so
visceral, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Brynn
tensed in front of me, and even her horse let out a nervous
whinny.

“What did he say?” I almost didn’t want to
ask.

“He doesn’t believe Tyr. He thinks it’s a
trap.” Brynn’s voice cracked.

Well, it is.

Tyr exhaled slowly. He glanced at the sky,
where Brynn and I were cloaked behind the invisible barrier. My
stomach clenched as he gave a sad smile. What was he going to
do?

“Take my arm.” Tyr gave the wolf a cool gaze.
“Hold it between your teeth while Freya attaches the tracking
ribbon. If anything bad happens to you, you can bite my arm clean
off. But if nothing happens, you let me go unharmed. Do we have a
deal?”

The wolf let out one sharp bark and opened
his mouth. Tyr placed his forearm between Fenrir’s teeth.

“No,” I whispered. Brynn tensed as I squeezed
her torso. “Can’t you stop him?”

Brynn shook her head. “He knows exactly what
he’s doing.”

My eyes closed for the briefest of moments.
In that instant, I sent silent prayers to the universe, asking God,
Odin, Zeus, Buddha, and whoever else might be listening, to protect
Tyr from the monster on the sand. When I looked down again, Freya
was tying the ribbon around Fenrir’s neck. The pink fabric emitted
a sharp burst of light as it sealed itself against the wolf’s fur.
In that moment, Fenrir let loose a terrifying growl.

It was done.

But it wasn’t over. Just before Fenrir was
rendered immobile, he gnashed his teeth together and jerked his
head left, then right. He must have realized it was a trap. The
sickening crunch of bones was punctuated by the image of gushing
liquid as blood poured from Tyr’s arm. And since the ribbon
appeared to lock every muscle in Fenrir’s body in place, when Tyr’s
body flew through the air, Fenrir had no way to release his
limb.

Tyr lost his arm.

He landed in a heap on the sand, and rolled
unsteadily to his knees. As he shifted, he stared with resignation
at the exposed sinew dangling just below his right elbow. The
jagged muscles were unsettling; the blood gushing from the exposed
tissue was downright horrifying.

Tyr lurched to the side. A cardinal pool
formed at his feet as the blood flowed freely. Freya dove forward
just as Tyr fell to the ground, unconscious. She pulled him away
from the now-immobilized wolf. My heart stilled—it felt like
someone had dropped a lead balloon on my chest.

This couldn’t be happening.

Freya glanced down the beach, where Henrik
was locked in a mid-air battle with the dragon. He delivered a
well-timed jab to the dragon’s chest, sending Garm plunging into
the water. Henrik dove after her, taking the battle under water. It
felt like an eternity before Henrik rose to the surface, sputtered
for air, then dove again. He emerged ten seconds later, sword in
one hand and Garm’s severed head in the other.

“Heimdall!” Freya shrieked at the sky. “Open
the Bifrost!”

The sky parted and a beam of light shot onto
the sand, where Fenrir struggled against the seemingly flimsy pink
ribbon.

“Heimdall, take Fenrir to the prison chamber.
Bring Garm’s remains with him. Brynn, get down here. We need to get
Tyr to the healers.” Freya issued her commands like a seasoned
warrior.

An offshoot of the Bifrost beamed in Henrik’s
direction. He tossed the dragon’s head at the light while it drew
the monster’s body from the depths of the sea. The light pulled
back from the sand, sucking Fenrir into the sky when it retracted.
As quickly as it had come, the Bifrost was gone.