The Path of Ravens (Asgard vs. Aliens Book 1) (21 page)

A crowd gathered, thousands strong. Most of them
cheered the prince's return on account of the omen just witnessed and
how difficult the earth and sea and sun had made their lives since
the present king's ascension. When Ozymondros appeared, guards at his
side, it was not to yield but to denounce Thamoth and order his
arrest. The order was not immediately carried out; it could not be,
for too much of the city had come to the prince's side.

Still, Ozymondros was not without his own
supporters and fighting men, and it was they who yet occupied the
palace complex. At noon, with the two sides at impasse, the earth
shook again in a second portent . No sooner was the ground steady
once more under their feet than Thamoth's men stormed the palace
gates.

Great was the bloodshed, greater than this
peaceful city had known in generations, as Atlantean slew Atlantean.
For an hour they fought, Thamoth's rebels making their way to the
great throne room and seizing it. Thamoth himself chased Ozymondros
up a winding stair to the palace roof, and there, with gazes drawn
seaward, they froze in terror.

On the horizon, the ocean had risen in a great
swell, a wall of blue dwarfing palace, Dome, king, and prince, and in
an instant, both understood: while men had started this conflict, the
sea would end it. They both were to be swallowed, along with the city
they vied for the right to rule.

Others saw the great wave, too, and their
screams filled the sky. Thamoth tore his eyes from the oncoming doom
to look again at the usurper, who remained transfixed. They could not
have more than minutes left to live, he knew, and so he made a swift
decision. Lifting his sword, he ran Ozymondros through the neck. With
that act, the prince's vow was at least partly fulfilled: Atlantis
was conquered and the usurper dethroned, even if the new king was
never to enjoy a proper coronation.

Ozymondros, fated to be a great city's last
ruler, slid to the stone with blood gurgling in his pierced throat.
His killer dropped his bloody blade, threw arms wide and waited for
the deluge to take him. He knew that Ayessa was within that wave. The
sea was sending her home, into his arms. He would be  with her
again in the sea, and if it was for men and women to walk the earth
again after death, then they would do so side-by-side. So did he
swear in his final moments.

The wave fell upon the city, tearing it asunder
so that not one brick yet stood upon another. Half of its bones were
strewn across the inland plains, the rest dragged back into the
uncaring sea, forever lost

 Amazingly, the great deluge does not crush
me on impact. Instead, I am caught up in its irresistible
current—drowning! I thrash my limbs in a wild struggle against
the inevitable.

Something is not right. My arms and legs move
too easily. The resistance they meet is not that of water. And my
world presently should not have direction, neither up nor down, but
it does. There is some surface under my back, I come to realize.
Something warm and soft cushions my head.

I let my limbs fall slack. I open my eyes and
find they do not flood with stinging ocean water. A woman  looks
down upon me. My head lies in her lap. I know her, but from where?
From a dream or some other life besides the one just cut short by a
wall of sea.

As I stare, I remember. She is Gaeira, a woman
of the Vanir: vengeance-seeker, bound by a vow of silence. I have
seen her slay giants single-handed. I walked with her through the
giants' realm of Jotunheim and across a shimmering bridge into
Asgard.

On a green hillside, I made love to her.

But—no. I did no such thing. I tear my
gaze, until now a blank-eyed stare, away from her face in sudden
embarrassment.

We did not make love. Why did I think we did?

Memories begin to settle into place. I drank the
waters of Mimir's Well. I experienced a vision of my past life, that
of Thamoth, exiled prince of Atlantis, husband of—

I do not wish to think of that now.

The well has shown me other, more fleeting
visions that are not of my past life, I realize. Laying naked with
Gaeira was but one of them. There were others...

I beheld a serpent so vast that a man can
stand within its flaring nostril. Its leathern wings fill the sky.
Drops of venom that fall from its yellow teeth leave villages aflame
in the wake of its flight.

I saw a swarm of monsters, endless in form,
endless in number—the Myriad—rising up in a green land
that is not Hades.

I saw a one-eyed old man falling, falling,
falling with nothing to stop him, his doom inevitable. It is Odinn.
the All-Father, highlord of the Aesir.

These visions worry me, but they are not the
cause of the knot presently forming in the pit of my stomach. That
is—

"
Ayessa
..." I say aloud with
the lips and voice of Ares' slain son Enyalios. "I must see
her." I struggle to raise my head from Gaeira's lap.

She makes no reply, naturally. The look she
casts upon me is complex. Her sharp eyes, more expressive than I
recall them in my mind's eye, contain a measure of pity, even if it
is of a chill and hopeless variety. In drinking of the Well, I have
defied Odinn's will, an act not without consequences. Whatever they
might be, Gaeira's look manages to tell me she will not help me to
evade them. Quite the contrary. If required, she will force me to
face justice, even if she does not relish the task. I am no son of
Odinn like Baldr, entitled to deference from her.

When I sit upright, Gaeira stands. I climb to
own feet, unsteadily. She offers no aid.

"I will face Odinn," I promise her. "I
will pay his price. But first, please... you must take me to Ayessa."

There is no change in Gaeira's expression, but
somehow, in a blink of her eyes, the way she breathes, seemingly
insignificant things which I see now are anything but, I detect her
answer. She will take me to my last life's love, who is right to hate
me. I do not yet know what I will say to her. Fortunately, I have
much time to contemplate, for the return path is long. Absent the
shining palm of Baldr, it is in total darkness that Gaeira leads me
through the twisting passages of Yggdrasil's roots. With nothing on
which to fix my eyes, I instead look inward, upon the scenes from my
just-remembered past. They bring anguish.

At length we emerge from the ground, into the
World Tree's shadow and thence into light. It is twilight. Baldr's
horse is gone; mine and Gaeira's wait. We mount them and ride. Even
as dazzling vistas of Asgard fill my vision, my thoughts stay mired
in the past. They will remain so, I know, until I have seen Ayessa
and—

Done what? Begged her forgiveness? What else is
there, knowing that my cruelty drove her to take her  own life.

Gaeira rides swiftly, but I keep up. I
understand now that indeed I was no horseman in life, for like all
Atlanteans, I greatly favored sea over land. But Enyalios, I think,
must have been a capable rider while he lived, and the skill yet
resides in his flesh. It only took me some time to harness it.

We ride through wood and plain to a stout, gray
fortress upon a hill. Blazoned in blood-red across its great wooden
gates is the image of a swooping eagle in profile, identical to that
which Ayessa wore the last time I saw her. It can only be the hall of
the Valkyriar. Baldr told me its name during one of his many stories
as we rode: 
Folkvang
.

Two women warriors standing upon the fortress's
battlements cry out to others within, as we approach: "Gaeira of
the Vanir comes! And a male unknown to us!"

Gaeira's company evidently is sufficient to
allay whatever concern, if any, the Valkyriar might have about
opening their gates to an unknown male, and we are allowed to enter
into a courtyard where there wait six or eight women. All are armed,
some armored. To my disappointment, Ayessa is not among them. I
follow Gaeira's lead in dismounting. The Valkyriar offer her friendly
greetings without expectation of their return.

I wait to speak until the woman who seems most
senior of those present (though not in years, by which measure I
would hard pressed to judge) looks at me expectantly.

"I am Thamoth," I tell her.
"A... 
kinsman
... to Ayessa. I would have words with
her"

The woman considers, perhaps gauging my honesty.
I begin to hope that she has not already heard ill of me.

"Essa is not presently among us," the
Valkyr declares—not knowing what suffering she causes me in so
saying. "She has spent much time in the city of late, at Odinn's
behest."

I do not wish to believe her. I am searching for
a way I might gently accuse her of lying to keep me from Ayessa when
I hear my name called out.

"Thamoth!"

The sharp, angry exclamation comes from within
the courtyard and takes all present by surprise. The exception is
Gaeira, whom I suspect would not show surprise were the ground to
vanish beneath her feet. My eyes, and everyone's, find the speaker, a
Valkyr with sword in hand, advancing toward me at a run. I have never
seen her before, but by the fire in her eyes and purpose in her
stride, it would seem that, somehow, she knows me.

When she reaches our congregation, the point of
her sword sweeps upward to hover an inch from my throat. I refrain
from drawing my own, having no wish to brandish arms in a house
brimming with elite warriors and in which I am a guest.

My choice proves a wise one. Within an instant
of my would-be assailant putting her sword to my neck, Gaeira's is
aimed in turn at hers. I feel no worry. The Valkyriar are famed for
their prowess, but the feats I have seen Gaeira perform assure me
that I am well protected.

The Valkyr to whom I had been speaking grabs the
right arm of the woman threatening me and forces her sword down, at
which time Gaeira likewise lowers hers.

"Sigrid!" the chief Valkyr says
harshly. "Explain yourself!"

The woman, Sigrid, whose braided hair is the
color of wheat, only snarls at me, eyes blazing with a deep hatred.
Looking into them, I am sure that she knows. She knows who I am and
that in another life I wronged her fellow Valkyr. Ayessa must have
told her. Shame fills me at having my secret known.

Sigrid stands down, sheathing sword, but the
hate in her glare does not diminish. "I cannot speak of what he
did," she grates. "It was told to me in confidence. But he
can tell you himself, if he has the balls!"

She spits at my feet, whirls and stalks off,
hands clenching and unclenching.

The senior Valkyr gives me a new look in which
lurks an element of suspicion. "Have you any inkling of 
what she might mean?"

As I consider answering her, my eyes are
continually drawn to Sigrid's retreating form. In the end, I choose
not to answer the question before me at all, but instead launch
myself after my accuser.

Well before I reach her, Sigrid whirls with hand
to sword.

I halt and hoist open palms. "I would only
talk with you. In private."

The Valkyr scoffs. "If we enter a room
together, slug, only I would leave!"

"Here, then, in the open," I concede.
"Quietly."

"Quiet? Yes, you would want to keep your
deeds quiet, slug."

"You should wish it, too," I say,
"lest you betray a trust."

Fire still rages in Sigrid's eyes, but it is
contained, for now. She nods at the several Valkyriar who have come
to surround us, in case of trouble. Warily, they recede. I glance
back to locate my only ally in this  place, if I can call her
that. Without reason, I sense that she would be at my side again in
an instant were I to find myself in trouble not of my own making.

"If Ayessa has told you of our past lives,"
I say to Sigrid, "prove it. What was the name of our ship?"

The Valkyr's lip and fingers curl. "
Ship?
 You
mean her prison, slug?" She glares, and I wait. "
Wellspring
,"
she hisses at length.

She speaks it in the Atlantean tongue—which
suddenly I feel that having drunk of the Well I would now be able
speak fluently were I to try. I nod, accepting both my guilt and
Sigrid's knowledge of it. I am guilty of crimes of neglect and
willful blindness and will admit them freely. But I wish to reason
with Sigrid, make her see that I am no slug, but a man worthy of a
chance at redemption.

"Yes," I say penitently. "In
following me into exile, Ayessa put great faith in me. I proved
unworthy of it. I have no excuse. But—"

"
Faith?
" Sigrid spits the word
back at me, like venom. "What choice did she have? You
threatened to have her family slaughtered if she refused to go!"

So great are my shock and puzzlement on hearing
this that I am rendered momentarily speechless.

"Do not pretend at innocence, slug,"
Sigrid presses. "You used her, ground her to nothing, and then
you killed her!"

"I..." I begin. "That is not... I
saw... the Well's vision..." Words fail me.

"You truly know not?" Sigrid observes.
My confusion appears to bring Sigrid perverse delight, for her rage
rises afresh. Her teeth set, lips writhing like snakes. She wants to
harm me, but cannot freely do so. Not with a sword, anyway. So
instead, she wields words.

"You locked Essa under that deck," she
accuses. "You took your pleasure with her when and how it suited
you, beat her when she defied you. And when she was no longer worth
her share of water, you threw her to the sharks! You were, 
and
yet remain
, a monster." Sigrid raises a warning finger at me
and says emphatically, "In death, Essa freed herself from you.
She will never again be yours. Leave now, and 
do not return!
"

She spins to leave. Of its own accord, my hand
shoots out, heedless of risk, to seize her shoulder and spin her
back. I withdraw the hand before Sigrid can bat it away.