Dead Wrath (3 page)

I looked at Myst, who smiled, her deep-blue eyes sparkling as she spoke softly. "I am most honored to serve you, Valkyrie Brynhildr." She inclined her head in a small bow. I did the same and welcomed her, all the while hoping Freya's assistant would prove her worth soon enough. I wasn't going to like being saddled with just another pretty face.

Freya continued. "
I will return soon, but I will only bring the army when we know the time has come. I do not wish to tax the Asgard food stores more than necessary. I expect you will see a large enough turnout." She turned to Frigga, giving Odin's wife a low bow. "My lady, please let me know if there is anything you need. We have food, grain, and water that we can supply should you need it."

"Thank you, my dear. That is most comforting to know. I will send word should we need access to them, but I am hoping if anything, we will only rely on your food reserves for the war itself."

Freya straightened and inclined her head, her gaze sweeping over me. Her formality with Frigga made me imagine her saluting the goddess, but instead, she just disappeared into thin air.

I sighed. "Now, if only someone would give me a power like that."

"But you already have it, dear," said Frigga with a sneaky smile.

I frowned as my heartbeat quickened. "What do you mean?"

Frigga gave the spear a glance. "Gungnir. The spear is a way to open the Bifrost wherever you are."

Ice froze my veins as I processed her words. "Why did no one tell me?"

"Because no one knew you'd be able to access the power. Only those who have the blood of Odin in their veins can use the spear to move within the realms at will." She spoke gently, and I suspected she knew the depth of hurt still running through me.

"Oh," I said softly, then fell silent. The single syllable was all I was capable of as I processed the full reality of the spear I had in my possession. "You mean I could have saved Sigrun with it?"

Frigga curled an arm around my shoulders and squeezed slightly. Then she cupped my cheek and said, "No, my child. That would not have been possible. The poisoned arrow made certain she was doomed the moment it hit her. There was nothing you or anyone else could have done to save her." The goddess' words were gentle and soft, and I could do nothing else but listen to her.

I'd nodded and sniffed softly, glad I'd had her on my side ever since I'd arrived in Asgard. I barely paid attention as she went on to explain how the dwarfs had imbued a special magic into the golden spear that allowed it to collapse into a rod about a foot and a half in length. She demonstrated, giving the spear a shake in her hand that sent it singing as it slid down itself and became shorter and shorter. Then she handed Gungnir to me, laying it in my hand and closing my fingers over it.

The events of that night had had their effect, throwing the realm into a fury of training and preparation. The Vigrid plains were mapped and strategy already prepared, taking into account all the warriors at our disposal.

Whatever happened, there was no turning back now.

Now, as I hurried to the war room, Gungnir lay safely tucked into a holster at my back, hidden beneath my cloak, I threw off the memories and went straight to the largest table, on which were strewn a dozen different maps. I fiddled with the ties of my cloak, hesitant to throw it off before I got the fire going.

I was about to begin examining the maps when a scuffling at the door called my attention to the entrance to the room.

I gasped.

In the doorway stood Dvalinn, Prince of the Dark Elves, and his wife Sarah McLean.

With a soft cry, I hurried forward. At the same time, Sarah strode to me. When I reached her, I froze, for a moment unsure how to greet her. I'd instinctively gone to give her a hug, but then thought the better of it, what with her princely husband watching. Instead, she threw her arms around me and gave me tight squeeze. I hadn't expected that, but I wasn't complaining. A little show of affection was good every so often.

She let out a huge sigh and stared at my face. "Oh, Bryn, I'm so glad to see you." Her honey eyes shone in her face, her high cheekbones and dark hair now healthy and glossy. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been unwashed and in chains, a prisoner of the dwarf queen.

"Me too," I responded happily. "But what are you both doing here?" I asked, staring from Sarah to her dark, swarthy dwarf husband. His glamor was up, the human look strong enough, but I'd seen him in his true form and strangely enough, his features worked well for a dwarf.

Dvalinn bowed, his expression somber as he straightened and met my eyes. "We have come to swear our allegiance to Odin in this battle of Ragnarok. I have brought my army with me. We wish to fight at the All-Father's side." The prince looked fairly happy with himself. But the expression on my face ensured his enthusiasm and cheer quickly disappeared.

"What's wrong?" asked Sarah, coming closer to me.

I hesitated a moment, then met her eyes, realizing I still trusted her. It was her dwarf husband I wasn't one hundred percent sure of.

Talk about prejudice, Bryn.

In that fleeting second, I decided to tell her everything, then spent the next few minutes giving the couple a quick rundown of the events of the past week. I said little about Odin's strange ethereal prison, only that he was away for much of the time and I was taking care of things from the Asgard end. They were both suitably stunned. At least the worst part, the fact that the great war was upon us, was nothing new since they'd heard, and answered, the call of Gjallerhorn.

"Come, let's see what we can do about finding you two a place to sleep. After that, you can get something to eat." They both looked pleased, and I glanced at Dvalinn. "I'll send someone to help organize a place for your regiment to train. I assume you will be responsible for overseeing them?"

He inclined his head. "I am quite happy to defer to the exceptional training of your warriors. I am not unaware of the skill and tenacity of the average einherjar. Or Valkyrie, for that matter," he said pleasantly, and I stifled a self-recriminating snort. I needed to loosen up a little. At least Sarah had married the brother who didn't look like he was about to kill me.

I nodded pleasantly at his compliment. "How is your brother?" I asked, wanting to ensure I was polite, although I was sure I couldn't care less.

"He remained behind to oversee the production of weapons. Whom do I speak to in order to ascertain what weaponry your armies require? I am happy to supply whatever Asgard needs." Now I was impressed.

I cleared my throat. "Thank you. That is really generous of you. I think you can speak to Fenrir regarding the weapons required. He'll have a better idea of our stocks and what needs replenishing." Dvalinn glanced at his wife, seemingly pleased that his offer had been graciously accepted. "Right, let's get you two a room."

Sarah fell in beside me as I headed for the door. She linked her arm with mine as we hurried down the passage to the service room. Unfortunately, despite my new half-god status, I was still unable to summon a Huldra with my mind, so it meant a physical trip to the service room beside the kitchens to ask for quarters to be made up for our dwarf royalty. Fortunately, it took mere seconds and a cheerful Huldra appeared to beckon them away, her fox tail skimming the floor as she guided them out the door.

I set out in the opposite direction down the hallway. With Sarah and her husband taken care of, I now had other things to worry about.

Namely, the impending war that dogged our every step.

CHAPTER THREE

Back in the war room, I hung my cloak on one of the row of hooks beside the door, then crouched to light the fire in the hearth. Amazing that this simple act was something I'd never done before until I arrived in Asgard. A city without electricity, without technology, but otherwise filled with everything we needed for a fulfilling life. All of that would soon be taken away from us if we didn't find a way to stop Loki.

With the fire flaring up and flames licking at the newly stacked woodpile, I was already feeling warmer. I turned my attention to the table to pore over the reports brought back by many of the scout teams, trying to find a connection between what they were saying was happening and what the prophecy predicted. So far it all looked like a big old mess to my eyes.

Adjusting the straps of the holster holding Odin's spear, I considered removing it, then thought better of it. The last thing I needed was to lose the damned spear. I should be thankful at least that the magic of the weapon allowed the solid length of gold to collapse into a piece short enough to fit comfortably at my back.

I was rubbing my head, mussing my neatly plaited hair in the process, and trying to ignore the rumble in my stomach when I heard someone enter the room again. Annoyed, I snapped my wary gaze to the visitor whose boots barely made a sound on the stone floor. Only the soft clink of his chainmail and the almost silent brush of leather on leather, sword sheath against leather pants, broke the silence.

Fen strolled in, his unhurried gait no indicator of his mood. He looked troubled, his forehead furrowed, his eyes dark, his shoulders hunched and tight.

"What's wrong?" I asked, curious why he'd come to me looking like he had the worries of all nine realms on his shoulders. The person with that particular burden was me.

"Nothing I cannot handle. Just the influx of new soldiers from the other realms have been a mission in itself to get them practicing and preparing." He sounded impatient and more than a little frustrated.

I grinned, amused. "The other realms not as efficient at the art of war as Asgardians?" I asked as he came toward me and took a seat on one of the high-backed wooden chairs that surrounded the aged oak table.

He snorted, tipping his head up to look at me, causing his unruly shoulder-length hair to sway back and forth. "Exactly. Most of them are a bunch of unruly misfits." His voice held a trace of disdain. Fen had little patience for soldiers who didn't perform to his exacting standards.

"Misfits that we will be needing sooner or later," I responded, suppressing a chuckle. I'd seen the regiments that had poured into Asgard since the horn had been blown. Not only had the gods returned, but they'd brought with them their own armies. If you could call them armies. Most of them looked like a bunch of ragtag ruffians, but I wasn't about to voice my opinion. Fen didn't need any support in that department.

Now the Ulfr general sighed. "Yes. I am fully aware of how much we need them. Although, I think our time is better spent focusing our resources on Midgard."

I nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking." I glanced at the stack of reports at my elbow. "Every one of these reports makes me more and more concerned with Loki's activities in Midgard. We need more boots on the ground to try and unravel what he is planning."

"The problem is, where do we start?" asked Fen, rubbing his chin. The movement made a sharp grazing sound against his bristly beard. "Maybe we should check with Odin before making any definitive plans."

"Odin's here?" I asked, feeling the anticipation rise within me. I'd been waiting for him to show up again. I had to admit I missed the old guy.

Fen grinned at me and for a second I saw the wolf in him. I bit back a smile at the memory of my first reaction to seeing his face, all wolf-like. I hadn't actually been swooning at the sight of Ulfr Fen. Human-form Fen was a totally other story.

Now I waved at him and hurried out the door, heading straight for Odin's Hall. When I entered, it was already occupied by the All-Father himself. He lifted his gaze to me the moment I hesitated on the threshold.

"Come, Brynhildr. What are you waiting for?" He beckoned, raising one eyebrow. He sat on the intricately carved stone throne, the back of which rose at least eighteen feet in the air. Viking designs snaked their way across the armrests and the legs, giving the seat an almost living quality.

I hurried across the marble tiles, weaving past the six thick, fat pillars that dotted the gigantic hall. They too were carved with serpentine, hypnotic patterns, strange creatures, and branchlike designs. I'd gotten so used to the majestic nature of the hall that I no longer noticed them very much.

I reached the stone dais and stared up at Odin, who shimmered in an invisible breeze. A twelve-foot-tall giant of a god didn't look very imposing when the image of him wavered as if about to disappear into nothing. It made him seem far too fragile for my liking. Today, he was dressed in his fighting best, gold armor and flaming helmet. He beckoned for me to come forward, and I climbed up the dais, moving as close as possible without showing disrespect.

I stood there for a moment, just staring at him, gaping like a fool. "I'm glad you came," I blurted out before the silence threatened to become uncomfortable. What did a girl say to a man who had just claimed her as his child? And what did a girl say to a god who did the same thing? I was in over my head and I knew it.

He gave me an indulgent smile, reminding me he'd always had a soft spot for me and had never bothered to hide it. "I came to see that you are well. I have little strength left so it will be a while before I'm strong enough to return." His voice wavered too, sounding tinny, as if coming through on a bad telephone line.