Addictive Rimeshade (16 page)

Chapter 16

when Óðinn goes to fight with the wolf...

...Then shall Frigg's sweet friend fall.

~
Vafþrúðnismál

Deliah:

I see him! I'm just about to shout to Ewan up ahead in a world so black and white it looks alien, when Emma falls right out of the sky, becoming a mist and smothering me with the fog. Hissing at me, “Shut up! He mustn't know we're here! We can sneak in the back entrance using my mist. Hurry, if Ewan is at the front door no one will be watching the back.”

Getting more pissed off with miss know-it-all by the second, I nod, intending to ditch her the second we get inside. I'll find Lara on my own. I don't need Emma's interference another god damn second.

*

Lara
:

I sound looney every time I think of how I've been given the qualities of fire and ice, making me immune to the lava and chills of this planet, of this plane, of Hel, of the underworld.

Invincible, the closer I walk to the exit, the brighter my skin glows. It's bizarre.

But that sound, the strains of an esoteric melody, calling to my soul, coaxing me closer to the source, I'm fascinated and compelled to locate the minstrel scrying subliminally for my spirit. I can't resist, pulled instinctively the same way a mother responds to the cries of her baby. It's a part of me, a song reaching through the ether, tempting me out of safety, into the night.

Mindless, acting on impulse, I wander outside, following the call of Skadi. The sight in the night sky robs my limbs of strength and I sit abruptly, watching the aurora, the merry dancers, prancing lambent brilliance to me, engulfing me, sucking me onward, back onto my feet and forcing me forward where I become the specter of fluorescence, summoned to the cosmic dark glittering with constellations, running over snow, the brittle powder wedging between my toes, the harmony urging me to the horizon where petals of magenta confetti the sky in a wild streak of purifying radiance.

Beneath it runs a bow of aquamarine haze, the two flirting and twirling, the sound violent against the atmosphere, but I reach up regardless, my skin on fire, paler than its ever been, but so bright internally I'm a female nightlight, touching the barreling rays of vivid hue, becoming the mist, becoming the light, melting my soul and mind into this bright.

Enriched, welcomed, serenity flattens my pulse, I'm still me, but now... now I've become something else. The visceral frisson releases me from a mortal prison, euphoria my only reality, my only being. Blowing hot and cold I run through the heavens of the underworld, for the first time in my existence experiencing the gleam of my creator's sigh. I fly with the wings of the wind, spirit hunting, aura soaring.

*

Leug
:

Where is he? Slapping my hand against the tektite wall of the ancient tunnel I up the ante, filling the empty pockets behind the stone glass with the heat of a volcano's kernel. I'll flush him out because he can't handle heat, none of the frost giants can.

Rage surges through my veins, a scourge of suffering, a portent that the winter of swords will cut deep indeed. He fights for Odin when that old man isn't worthy of another's blood, another's life. There is no honor in war. What fools are the warriors and legions who fall in the fight only to join another army in their afterlife. That is why there truly is no rest for the wicked, they will die again and again until they turn from his system, from their allegiance. If god is all he claims to be you have to ask yourself why he'd feel the need to have a heavenly army?

Coward, hiding behind the many who never knew any different, who were never free, not in life, not in death. They don't realize their liege is afraid of his own death, yet he expects them to suffer it in order to protect him. If they only knew they have more bravery and courage than their god ever had, they'd not worship him if they knew the truth.

Running now, sprinting around the next bend, eager to meet Ewan and force feed the little prick some humble pie, I slam to a halt.

She runs to me, her hair flowing behind her, the scent of my lover of old, the tension immediate, the intention irrepressible.

Skadi?

Her hair is all wrong, but she morphs, first to mist, then to owl. The whitest snow owl with female black spots in her plumage, she is the bird of night and light, wearing camouflage of snow and ash. Polarities. Now! I must hamask!

Skadi! I come. I'm here!

Launching, hamasking midair, I become the falcon, flying flat out, the two of us colliding, talons locked, beaks knocked, tumbling and falling, rolling bent wings across the dusty floor, morphing to limb and leg, kisses and clenches, ripping and shredding, unable to abstain, unable to refrain.

*

Emma
:

The shadow man enters my thoughts, fills up my heart with lascivious palpitations, engorging my logic with paralyzing heat, smothering and gutting my ability to function, the intense lust crushing my logic and purpose underfoot.

I can't explain it but it's shocking, as if I have no control, as if I've loved him like a wildcat in every dream since puberty, and now I am here, smelling him, seeing his ice cold eyes and the bitter frost of angelic hair. Lifted in a strong embrace, I clench my legs around his hips, unwilling to release, clinging to wide shoulders, licking the vein etching the skin from the curve of his chest over the top of his arm, fighting for dominance with the extended vein lining his neck. He's tense, strong, ripping my clothes off, ramming into me, using the wall at my back for stability, sweet sweat glistening his brow, prurience scything through my senses, inhaling a man locked into the subliminal psyche of every woman on earth and in heaven.

We all crave this, him, the knowledge, the refuge, the tame in the wild, the wild in the tame, the burn of his flame, the penance for speaking his name.

Your name? Who are you? Oh my fucking god! Yes!

Vesicant lips leave a trail of welts down my neck, his bite enough to blast alchemy from my womb to my tomb, smashing my soul to ash, the eruption of pleasure beyond insufferable, my scream an accolade, applause, begging for more, for mercy, a battle cry for conquer, a white flag of surrender. I am dichotomous, a paradox, a hypocrite. I am undone.

First me, then he, cresting the apex of passion, leaving me gasping, clutching, broken, elated, on the cusp of shame. His cuspid teeth surprise me and it's reflex to touch my neck, feeling the mark he's left there. A vampire? Did Valhalla, or Asgard, have vamps? Briefly he allows me a glimpse of a wolf, explaining away the teeth exposed in a susceptible moment.

He releases me, stepping back, his breathing erratic, zipping his jeans closed, splaying his trembling hands in a helpless gesture, regret branding his expression.

“
Uh...” He clears his throat, his eyes eerily lustrous in the dim tunnel, standing straight and tall, squaring his shoulders, saying, “I beg your pardon. I... thought you were... her. Pray tell lady, just who are you?”

I'm standing here in nothing more than a sweat drenched t-shirt, my own jeans nothing more than tatters for mice to nest in. It makes me vulnerable, no longer of a mind to clash, my strength robbed, my limbs lethargic, an odd compassion lingering in my heart after the... that... what the fuck was that?

“Em... Emma. I er, fuck. Who are you?”

“
Leug. I'm the master of rime and shade, of Skadi, and you, you wear her scent, her colors, her aura shines around you. I'm so sorry for the intrusion, for taking liberties... it's a long story that goes back... forever. It's a love so fierce it destroys from the inside.”

Oh my god, I just fucked the king of hel, or rather, he fucked me, and I liked it, a lot ... and I'm married, I'm damned.

Well at least when I'm condemned I know we started our eternity of suffering together, for our sins, on the right foot.

Mac is going to go apeshit.

Not that I have to tell him mind you, although I should, but then guilt never was my virtue. Staring at my morphine, I lick my lips, wondering what harm there could be in another ravaging kiss.

He flickers so fast, like staring at the faces of the arcana in a shuffling pack of tarot cards, snake, wolf, man, bird, woman, man, mouse, dragon, bear, salmon, more and more into a blur, whipping me into his whirlwind, twisting his serpentine scales around me, squeezing me so tight I can't breathe, licking a forked tongue in my nose, bright crystal eyes staring into mine, the shake of a rattle the only rhythm left to contain my sanity. We are every season, every wind, every raindrop, every age.... and he is the light by which god reads my soul.

Prepare the hearse, because I cannot slay this man. I will protect him because my marrow is filled with his wishes, my spinal fluid a vial of his tears, and I know he has suffered for too many years.

Injecting his grief and sorrow into the humanity within, I tremble and collapse, a torn page where the scribble runs off the parchment, where words no longer have meaning and all you require to know is the ink stains, it saturates, penetrates, and for this kind of agony there is no salve.

We have been manipulated.

Weak and nimble I clutch at his claw, mentally swearing a vow, to undo the damage, to prevent this fight, to locate Lara and prove to Ewan and Macala that all along Skadi was right.

Right about him, Lucifer, Logi, Leug, Loki... so many names, the outcome always the same. She holds all wolves and snakes sacred, now I know why. The effigy of her first love, the first man to show her compassion and real love, he's more precious than every galaxy of the universe.

Given one last searing kiss, I have tears in my eyes as I watch him stroll away to his doom, the Valhalla mark on my hand gone. Everything I had is ruptured, every vow incinerated, every promise nullified.

He leaves glowing footprints in the rock, like vivid autumn leaves waiting for the yuletide wind to kiss them goodnight.

This is a new beginning, absolution is found in the annals of Niflhell. Now I hope the lady of the manor will locate me, gifting me modesty to hide my new secret, so I can run onto the battlefield and take the spear for the saint.

*

Deliah
:

Sneaking into the next passage, the walls a weird greeny black glass, warped and odd, my own reflection shadows me as I tiptoe, wishing I had the ability the harii have, to become shadows and sneak in and out undetected.

A woman appears out of nowhere, blocking my path, tall as a mature giant, smiling down at me, saying, “Kin. You are Lara's kin. You smell identical. She's safe, but your handfast is outside the main gate. Come with me, you will witness this.”

And before I can say fuck you, she's gripped me by the arm and popped me back into another tunnel where Emma sits, looking chagrined, her jeans shredded.

The strange lady laughs musically at her, waving her hand and redressing Em, as if the problem with the fish-moths eating through clothing is a common plague in this place.

So much for rescuing Lara, now I wish we'd told Gunn, or Mac, or someone with some might and skill.

Emma doesn't seem interested in fighting the blond giantess, and I can't. Resigned to fate, I pray that the gods are on our side in this.

Chapter 17

from where will a sun come into the smooth heaven

when Fenrir has assailed this one?

~
Vafþrúðnismál

Leug:

Finally I find him. Waiting for me outside the entrance to Hel. He stands out on the basalt darkness of volcanic ash, having cleared the snow while he waits, creating a circle of black, a battle zone with a boundary.

Ewan always did like to fight in the limelight, in his pit of suffering. I don't abide by your rules spawn of Odin, I am a freeman, the only free Æsir, and now, you will taste my ás-móðr (divine wrath).

Seeing me, he roars savagely, breaking the crepuscular stillness of my haven. Odin's bloodline have so many anger issues, so many prideful pursuits to prove, always so deficient they feel the need to prove their worth because they know inherently that they are worthless.

Standing my ground, invulnerable to the bite of the Arctic wind, I look down at the inferior sized giant. This isn't a fair fight, I can't battle this man.

Lifting my chin, I respond to his savage war cry with a quiet tone, leaving the hush of my power to roar instead, through his heart, through his spirit, “Ewan, thank you for answering my invitation. It's time we had a heart to heart little man.”

“Hand her over!” he shouts, petulant and demanding.

Rage, it accomplishes so little. Pointless.

Raising my hand, gesturing to the sky, I pace, slowly, my zen unruffled, my calm complete, saying, “I have news for you about your precious Odin. It's time you woke up and as they say, smell the coffee.”

Out of my periphery I see three women run out the entrance to Niflheim; Hel, Emma, and the one I know from a photograph. Deliah, the twin to my sváss. Nodding acknowledgement, I note Sköll and Hati come and stand behind them, their father conspicuously missing from witnessing this endgame.

The circle closes, the ring complete, let this winter be the last for our kind.

Ewan bellows across the blackened ring, the air vacuous between us, ignorant that I am the air, I am all around him and yet he cannot recognize me. I have him surrounded, yet he perceives me as weak and impaired. “Lara! Now! No more talk old man, your death looms closer than a noose. Hand over the innocent!”

Shaking my head, I look up, muttering, “She flies across the sky, I don't think now is an opportune moment to interrupt her jubilation.”

Another savage growl and he's thundering across the makeshift zone, throwing eggs at me, blasting lightning up in impressive spires of electricity.

I am fire, I am immune to such a paltry display of fake power. He's just a novice trying valiantly to be a man in a god's world. I pity him.

He rushes me, fist poised, knuckles passing through me when I spin out of his reach, no more than a gossamer illusion hovering my visage in the air before him.

I am eternal whereas his lord is infernal. This is no contest. I refuse to be baited by his pettiness.

His anger makes him a fool when he stumbles and maneuvers, rampaging back toward me. Shoving my wind at him, creating a barrier to stay him, I walk up to press my nose against his, enjoying how the man is straining against the gale, distorting his muscles, wearing his battle gear, the berserkr enraptured with his own rage.

Softly, I whisper, “Thor will die by the bite of Jörmungandr because he is ineffectual against fate. Odin will die by Fenrir's bite. All that Odin created will fall away and his slaves set free. He has no power here.”

“
Heretic! How dare you! Thor is my father! He rides the skies, he watches, he will strike you down after I batter your bones to mash!”

Laughing, hands clasped behind my back to taunt him with my confidence, I turn to our audience, raising my voice, “Thor only rides the skies because he has a little chariot pulled by goats. Without them he's landlocked, Ewan. Your father is a bad rendition of a magician, as are you.” Spinning to face him, anger beginning to bubble my blood, I snap, “Without his props he has no power. Odin only rides the sky because I gave him a steed who can run on air! My son, from my womb! Do not preach to me about the might of your gods, not when I'm the idiot who gave them their fucking power!”

“Mjilnör will hammer your ego to dust you motherfucking prick! Give me the girl!” he shouts, sweating profusely, the strain of standing his ground against my gale becoming a sufferance for him.

“
And Mjilnör only comes to Thor if he's wearing his fucking gloves! Did you not pay attention in class as a boy? Who has his gloves, Ewan? Who? Me, that's who! And do you know why, because I was there when they were made! If you'd paid any attention whatsoever in your lessons you would know that it was the same day that I created Odin's magical spear which always hits its target, what a poor pity it is that you did not inherit something worthwhile from your grandfather!” Tilting my head, I survey Ewan, “Your father has hair so red it makes him look ill. You do not look like your sire, Ewan. Are you sure Odin hasn't played you for a fool?”

“
Fuck you!” bellows, his rage now palpable.

*

Deliah:

Emma grins at me, arms folded, seeming uncaring that the final showdown is playing out right before us and we still don't know where Lara is.

Leaning in, she says quietly, “I've been doing my homework. It's true. I thought Thor was blonde and sexy, but he's not at all. Hollywood has a lot to answer for, giving ladies fantasies with a false image of him. He's ginger, more ginger than a Spice Girl, hairier than a tarantula, and absolutely useless as a god. His only grace is the fun he got up to with Loki, and because of who his father is.”

Scowling at her, I ignore the stupid thur. She's been useless as an ally to wage war against Leug. If she'd just done what I told her the king of hel would be imprisoned all over again, this time with no one to save his sorry arse.

Watching the two opponents with paranoia, I listen intently, my tension giving me neck cramp.

“
God will strike you down with his army, you will never rest in peace Logi! Never!”

Leug shrugs, taunting Ewan, but his visage is beginning to crack with the first evidence of irritation.

“Who is god?” he says, turning to Ewan.

“
Odin! Jøl! Whichever name you wish to call him, he is god! He created the heavens and the universe, he created mankind, he's the father of the giants, he is your As and you ignore that at your own jeopardy you stupid
fuck
!”

Leug finally snaps, shouting back, punching an accusing finger toward Ewan, “He is NOT god!”

“Yes he is! No amount of denial will change the facts!”

“
Your god has a god,” hisses Leug, his ire so vivid I feel as if he just flayed the flesh off my soul with his enunciation.

“
Oh fuck you! Let me at you! Let me murder you once and for all because Odin's strength is in me. I'll show you who is god in the tradition of my forefathers! You're a coward for holding me back with your elemental magic!”

Leug hinges, his ire blatant, his muscles so engorged he looks invincible and gigantic, all muscle and vein, his body becoming larger by the second.

Then he shouts into the world, the resonance deafening, humming my body like a tuning fork, his voice so pure when enraged, so encompassing that it is a force all its own, “
Búri is god!
Búri is the father of Odin! He is not just the father of Odin, but of Ve and
Vilir too
, all three created equal! Your god is not alone as a god, his abilities are shared with his brothers! You ignore that because you are an ignorant shit! Your beginning has a source, your father has a father, your god has a
god
, and he is a master of peace, of all manifestation, of all creation before your fucking grandfather Odin corrupted the purity for his own egotistical shallowness. He hollowed out the husk of creation and called it his own kingdom! I damn your Odin, I damn
your
god, I condemn the fathers of Valhalla, I accuse the Æsir for aligning with a madman and swearing allegiance to him! I condemn you all for persecuting innocent children, for allowing mankind to do what Odin did to my offspring! Hel is not your home and neither is Valhalla, and Asgard is overcrowded because it only has room for him! Your god answers to
his
god! And he neglected to tell you he is
nothing
without his father!”

Ewan looks pale, as if he's having doubts, then remembers his mission, his pasty face hardening with rage, “Give me Lara! Give her to me now or meet me as a warrior!”

Leug's voice peals across the sky when he shouts, “I will not give you Lara! She is Búri's daughter! You may not have one more holy than yourself! You, like your grandfather, will corrupt her essence for your own gain! So be it. Let the gods witness that you insisted I fight you, do not let your warriors mourn and exact revenge because their chief is an idiot! Ragnarök is purely to end Odin's reign, no other god need be a part of the battle. This is not your fight. What kind of a god sends his grandson to wage his war? Odin created mankind, Búri created the holies with bodies. That is why mankind worship Odin and we ignore the fuck out of that megalomaniac and pay homage to his father instead. Prepare!”

And before I know what the hell is going on Leug has become a storm of hail, pelting Ewan with tennis ball sized nuggets of ice.

Hail Leug. I'm impressed. All hail the one man I've seen who yells back at these men of power, putting the record straight. Shit, does that mean I'm god's very own daughter too? Lara and me being special? Is that why there's a war? Are they truly fighting to control god?

I love Ewan, but he's revealed that pride does indeed come before a fall. It's not my place to wage this war for him. I've been traumatized, abused, misused, I know what it's like to be a victim, and I know when I hear the truth.

Now I understand Emma. This is not our war, this is not our issue, not when all we seek is peace.

Leaving the scene of carnage, the wind unbearable, the ice so frigid and the atmosphere so tense I feel wounded without having participated, I go looking for Lara. Hel smiles, turning away with me, taking my hand in hers, leading me into her domain.

“We'll send the wind to call her home. Don't fret for her, Liah. Your sister is not alone, Búri calls her home.”