Siren Slave (32 page)

Siegfried eyed the skin. When he died, what would happen to Freya? Freya, his staunchest friend. He already knew, somehow, he couldn’t deal with the fey as equals if he were a human. Now that fey were involved in the politics of his people, there wasn’t really a question, was there?

“First, tell me what exactly is our mission,” Siegfried said.

“There’s going to be more unicorn-speak,” Hecate warned. She laughed softly at his sigh. “Enbarr demanded his presence be kept a secret, because now is not the time for the unicorns to ride against Shadow Stalker. Enbarr will know when that time comes. He does not want himself or Freya or you to be picked off by Shadow Stalker. But if Enbarr has to, he’ll protect her. She is Horn-Kin.”

This kept getting stranger and stranger. He rested a hand on a branch of the alder, squeezing it twice. “What in the hell is Horn-Kin? What is a Shadow Stalker?”

“Horn-Kin is an honor unicorns give to we Two-Legs. It elevates them to unicorn status, in their eyes, meaning the unicorns will treat them as kin. An insult to Horn-Kin is treated as an insult to all the unicorns and requires revenge.” Hecate tilted her head thoughtfully. “This is a great honor and comes with its boons. Unicorns protect each other. Only Enbarr has the power to give another this status. The possibility of the honor has always existed, but there have only been three to ever achieve this—myself, Hecate Shadow Weaver, and Freya Bright Mane. Me, because I gave Freya to him. Freya, because he considers her his Two-Legs daughter and the fulfillment of that prophecy.”

“It sounds as if Enbarr makes his own prophecies come true.” Siegfried had to admit that Enbarr seemed a better father to Freya than Woden.
Aye, Siegfried, this is your life now. Debating whether a unicorn or the King of Asgard is the better father to the mermaid in your custody.

“No. It isn’t that way at all. He does what he has to do to prepare. Enbarr will protect Freya with his life. You already know why Enbarr permitted Freya to be Marked. If Loki is Shadow Stalker, Freya would not be merely a threat for the Frost Throne but a threat to Loki’s existence, as would you. Shadow Stalker, as a user of Oblivion, will already be aware the unicorns are his enemies. Prophecies can be changed, Siegfried. It is not time yet for the unicorns to ride into war. But Shadow Stalker, who will be an infamous user of Oblivion, could slay both of you.”

“You said there were three Horn-Kin. Yet you only mentioned two.” As soon as he became fey, he was going to have a long talk with Enbarr.

Hecate laughed again. “The third should be obvious. You don’t receive a unicorn appellation unless you are Horn-Kin,
Wave Walker.
You two do fit the prophecy well. Shadow Stalker, Master of Oblivion as he’s sometimes known, will be a tyrant with the goal of bringing the human world and the mortal realm under his control.”

Siegfried now knew Hecate’s master plan in its entirety. Only he couldn’t disagree with it as he’d expected. But this meant he was going to work closely with Freya and he would have to guard himself against her. At least Hecate was not planning another Great War for revenge.

All of it hit him very hard. He hadn’t succeeded in stopping Rome. Now he and Freya were somehow expected to defeat some inhuman, ancient evil that destroyed souls? He might have the same problem he had with the tribes. He would have succeeded if he’d had more support. The fact remained that the majority of people didn’t care or didn’t have time to care. They were eager to follow without asking questions. They would live with any indignity so long as there was food in their bellies and a constant routine to distract them.

“If you still want to do this, you’ll have a brief vision of Mimir. I didn’t want to send you to Jotunheim, lest Freya’s father is there fighting. You should meet him as a fey. Yes, Siegfried, you warranted special arrangements.” She cleared her throat and held the skin to Siegfried. “Now, drink up and be prepared to pay a price.”

Siegfried got no further than opening it before his vision blackened.

Chapter Nine

“I have arrived at my price, Siegfried the Fox.” The gravelly voice reminded Siegfried of the grating of stone. A form took shape in the blackness. A man, made of stone, like a rough statue made of granite. He had the impression Mimir was much larger in person. Here, in this vision, it was only Siegfried and Mimir in a field of blurring colors. No earth, no sky, just colors bleeding together. There was nothing to feel or to smell. It would have unsettled him had he not been reasonably certain his body was leaning against the alder.

“Name it and I will pay.” Siegfried kept his attention on the rock Jotun. It made him less dizzy than the whir of color. He would also be a fool to show fear or queasiness in the presence of a powerful stranger.

“I do not like being made of stone. Moss grows on me. I chip. I want your humanity. There is no softness or comfort for stone.”

“Is that even possible to give?” Siegfried did not like where this was going at all.

“It means that once you shift into your fey form, you cannot shift back to human. I will be able to shift to human when it suits me.”

“Shift into fey form? What exactly is fey form?”

Mimir chuckled, as if he found it amusing that Siegfried did not know such a simple thing. “A fey’s natural state. Freya’s would be her mermaid form.”

A mix of the human and animal. That could be problematic. “How can I be with Freya then? What if my other form is a sea beast? Or what if my other form is a bird?” He really hoped it would not be the latter. A Beast would not be convenient either if the enemy found a way to mark him.

“When Balder fetched the Wisdom, I used Woden’s eye before I agreed. I have seen what you will become.”

“I do not like the idea of you looking into my future, making my decisions for me on things that haven’t even happened.” What if Mimir had seen Freya as Lightning Fangs? Would Mimir reveal this to anyone?

“Always fighting authority, aren’t you?” Mimir raised a stony brow.

“I don’t like that you might have condemned me for a crime I haven’t committed. What will I become?”

“That is for you to discover when you drink,” Mimir said. “But I will tell you that you will be able to be with your woman. I will give you the power to shift then and only then, for I will not be always as a human. It would be inconvenient to be so vulnerable all the time.”

“I’ll make the sacrifice,” Siegfried said. There was no other choice. Not unless he wanted to have Freya do all his fighting for him. But this would impede his work in the human realm, to be sure. He remembered Freya with blood soaking the shoes he’d given her. She’d done enough. More than most. And she needed him now.

This was a bigger fight than Rome versus Gaul. It was a battle he would gladly wage. How often had he read the tales of the Fomori, compared their fight to his own? Never had he dreamed Hecate, one of their leaders, had been watching them and thought him a worthy soldier, believed him a man who merited playing an instrumental role in the clash that would eventually come.

He felt Hecate’s cool cheek against his own, then her breath on his ear as she whispered, “Cernunnos will be your true name.”

“Then drink,” Mimir said before Siegfried could wonder why Hecate gave him a nine-letter name. Hecate poured the Wisdom down his throat. He was surrounded by blue, watery blue. He could breathe here, though he could see naught but dark blue. Instinctively, he knew this was the Well of Wisdom, so it must be that he had been plunged into a pool of literal wisdom. It filled his mouth and his nostrils with both bitter and sweet as if it were a liquid, yet wrapped about his body as if it were rope. This was a complex vision, indeed.

He began to see other things. He stood in the gloom of a dead forest and outstretched his hands. In one, he held panpipes. He played them, hoping he would not have the same abilities as Balder. As he played, trees pushed through the earth. Vines began to grow around the new trunks. Flowers blossomed even in the shade. A young couple strolled past, not even seeming to notice him. A golden stag emerged from the trees, and then he was the stag, flowers blooming under his feet with each step he took. Each leap was long enough to carry him across a river. The stag reminded him somewhat of Enbarr.

There he stood again, but this time on the deck of a ship, facing a great sea dragon with a brown head dripping algae, rows of teeth longer than swords. The ship listed, but he did not slide. Somehow his hooves held him. Hooves?

The beast neared, and his bow was at the ready. He fired, but a great gust of wind came, knocking his arrow off course. Yet, the arrow arced, embedding itself deep within the beast’s eye.

When the water calmed, he climbed on the railing, looking at his reflection in the crystal water. He had the legs of a man, yet hooves. From the waist down, he was covered in soft, gold fur. He turned about and groaned when he saw the stag’s tail. His reflection peering back at him revealed great spreading antlers. Leaves mingled in his hair. He tried to pick them out and winced. They grew from his hair. He pushed his hair aside, seeing furred stag’s ears protruding.

The vision shifted. He was in that arena from so long ago, fighting the Cimbri warrior, his last kill for Roman pleasure. This time, the Cimbri had a giant single-edged sword, like a great cleaver. He could not move out of the way in time. The sword cut through his neck.

The scene around him had changed to the hall of a palace. Yet he was not dead… He was still watching as his body, bleeding what appeared to be sap, staggered forward to pick up the head, setting it atop his shoulders. He was whole again.

The vision disappeared, and he was leaning against a tree in the wood. The scent of pine and beasts tingled his nostrils. He shook his head to clear the dizziness caused by the swirling colors and frequent shifts of scenery. Hecate smirked down at him, silent.

“A faun,” Balder said, emerging from the trees. His golden lyre was tucked against his arm, a smile on his lips.

“I am not a faun,” Siegfried said. “A stag is my other form. Why did I end up with land powers?”

“The Well gives us what we need, not always what we want,” Balder said, then added, “You like wine. Fauns like wine. You’re lusty. Fauns are lusty. Fauns also are a little less serious than you. Methinks the Well is admonishing you to enjoy life a little more. Mull over your powers. Think on what you have, how you could use them.”

He remembered the couple who had nearly walked into him. “I think I may be able to make myself unnoticeable.”

“Fauns can be part goat, part ass, part deer…” Balder grinned. “I believe you, my friend, are a mix of stag and ass.”

****

“Four hundred thirty-four.” Freya dragged the brush through her hair. Hedwig had erected another tent for her to share with Siegfried, one made of purple and green. Her shoes, bloodstained from the fight with the Romans were placed against the wall of the tent beside the shimmering trident—her two most valuable possessions.

“Freya.” The tent flap was pulled aside, illuminating Siegfried in the afternoon sunlight.

As soon as her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw that he was half-stag. “Did I have too much blueberry ale? Is this a strange dream?”

“No, I was given Wisdom,” he said. “You aren’t dreaming.” Why did he look nervous? More importantly, he was fey. Siegfried, her lover, her master, her hero.

“You’re immortal?” She could hardly believe it. He looked so virile, so full of life. Eternal life. He was still Siegfried, only a more permanent Siegfried. Glee welled in her chest, a rush of elation. Her head and heart felt as if they were floating in a sea of clouds.

“Freya, I am pleased we were able to work together.” Even with hooves, he moved with such grace and certainty. He closed the distance between them, and her throat grew dry. “You were the last person I expected to
willingly
assist me. Most people never see things the way I see them.” He could feel that through their bond, couldn’t he?

“Maybe they do, but they’re afraid.” She set aside the brush. Without Siegfried standing in the entrance, the tent flap closed, and their surroundings grew dim.

“Were you afraid?” He sat beside her and settled her on his knee, those beautiful eyes of his so canny. She looked away.
Oh, don’t be a coward, Freya. Look at him. I’m sure your glowing eyes, especially paired with fangs, are far more intimidating than his narrowed bluish ones.

She ventured a glance.
Oh, he was still studying her, that much was clear, but somehow, he didn’t look as cold. He looked sad. Somehow she’d sensed this conversation would not be idle.

“Freya, you said you were afraid when you were roaring at the Averni.”

“Yes. I was afraid. Growing up in Folkvang, surrounded by Romans, you learn not to question too much or draw too much attention to yourself, to blend and bend. It was all those old feelings rising to the surface. But my anger was stronger than my fear, and I felt so free.” She frowned at her hands again, enjoying the feel of his hand on her shoulder. When he said nothing, just watched her, she ventured, “We are friends now, aren’t we?” What was he not telling her?

****

How was Siegfried supposed to respond to that? Friends? To Freya, friendship meant loyalty, no matter the disagreement or inconvenience. He thought of how she had known her friends were assisting the resistance, yet she had not betrayed or discarded them. She had done the same for him. He would have let her fly into the night when there was trouble in Vercingetorix’s camp. Though it would cost her freedom, she had risked her life to remain, using powers she had barely touched before. How had he come to deserve such a friend?

Dressed in a scrap of thin, yellow material, she looked fragile. A sigh escaped her pink lips, and he thought of that mouth on him. Dark eyes peered up at him from beneath a fringe of pale hair. She was still. Through the thin material, he could feel the heat between her thighs. He could feel the lust through their bond, too. There was no fear, no hate. That made him feel worse for treating her as he had. He was corrupting her with his taint, had humiliated her without ever having gotten to know her. He’d passed judgment as swiftly as some Romans on a barbarian.