The Phoinix: Age of Demigods (16 page)

“Oh shush. Save your sarcasm until we
reach the other side,” snapped Lysandros through puffs of breath as
he swung his sword deep into the Bifrost.

“You expect me to see you in Tartarus?
HA, it’s the Elysian Fields for me.”

“We’re not going to die here, you over
grown mule. I mean the other side of the bridge,” Lysandros said,
taking another slash at the bridge.

From up above their heads a strong
wind pulsated down on them. Air whistled loudly in their ears
making them deaf to their surroundings. A flash of light caught
Lysandros’ attention. When he looked up, Alina waved her sword in
the air, catching the sunlight. Desperately pointing upwards above
his head, she was yelling something inaudible against the
wind.

Lightning reared and Alina slowly
mouthed the words: Above you.

Lysandros whipped his head upwards.
Several winged horses hovering over their heads confronted him and
Magic. Each had a female rider in silver armor. The leader of the
female warriors did a swan dive off her horse and landed gracefully
on the bridge without sinking.

She addressed Lysandros, “My name is
Brynhild, and I lead this battalion of warriors. Odin has sent us.
Toss me your reins.”

“I should think not. How
can you remain still without sinking? You know, I am tired of
you
r
gods always
getting in our way. Can’t you all see…”

“Silence, petulant man! We are here to
help you. Unless of course you don’t want out of the Bifrost.”
Brynhild raised an eyebrow to Lysandros.

Magic struggled once more
with his legs but sunk further down.
Yes,
yes we want your help. Don’t pay attention to the petulant man.
He’s a simpleton whose mind isn’t all there.
Magic arched his back so that Lysandros fell forward onto his
neck.
Give her the reins,
simpleton.

Lysandros tossed the silver reins to
the mysterious woman who then leapt back up to her horse. Brynhild
tied the reins to her saddle and urged her horse forward while
another horse landed softly behind Magic. The horse stomped its
feet in a cadence, creating waves that loosened the Bifrost, slowly
freeing Magic’s legs. With his freed legs, Magic took off running
towards Lightning and Alina.

Once Magic and Lysandros were safely
on the other side, Brynhild and the other women landed next to
Alina. Alina greeted Brynhild and her warriors. "Thank you so much
for rescuing my friends. We are here to..."

"We know why you have come. Völva has
already seen you and your quest. We are a half hour’s walk from
Odin’s palace and the Great King Odin is expecting you at court,”
Brynhild instructed.

Alina bowed her head and tried to
mount Lightning. The horse reared and backed away in fright. Alina
kept a firm grip on the silver reins and hummed
soothingly.

“Fear not, Wit Blixtnedslag, you have
been safeguarded by Thor and Odin. Not even we can harm you without
severe punishment,” Brynhild reached out to stroke Lightning’s
neck, but the horse recoiled.

Lightning huffed at the sound of her
name in Swedish. She nudged Alina’s arm with her eyes wide in fear.
“Easy, Tintreach Bán,” Alina rubbed the soft spot on her nose and
smiled as she said her horses name in Gaelic, “Odin and Thor will
protect us. We are close to those we seek.”

Lightning calmed down after hearing
the proper form of her name in Gaelic. Alina remounted her steed
and followed the women. Neither Lysandros nor Magic said a
word.

“We should be on our best behavior,
boy. I don’t believe these women are overly fond of men.” Lysandros
patted Magic’s neck and he snorted in agreement.

Chapter 13

The Lost
Brothers

A
fter a thirty-minute walk, they reached Odin’s palace. The
building stood five stories tall. Statues of soldiers lined the
path to the entrance, each depicting a soldier in motion. The first
statues were of a Viking soldier with his sword stretched above his
head angled downward. He was saddled in a horse rearing above a
group of men armed with stone and metal working tools.

“They depict an epic battle waging for
years between the Jotunn and Thor,” Brynhild explained after
noticing Lysandros and Alina examining the statues. “The Jotunn are
giant savages that roam throughout nature. Unfortunately, some
Aesir blood has been tainted by such beasts.”

A woman walking behind Brynhild,
second in command, issued a warning. “The gods will hear you,
Brynhild. Odin will not respond well to your words. He has punished
you once before, my friend.”

“That is why I do not fear him, Eir.
The circle of fire meant to curse me merely kept me warm while I
waited for my beloved Sigurd,” Brynhild arrogantly dismissed Eir’s
warning.

“I know that story,” Lysandros shouted
proudly. “Sigurd rescued you and you repaid him by killing him and
one of his son’s for revenge.”

“He was betrothed to me but married
another! Sigurd disguised himself as his disgusting brother-in-law
to earn my hand in marriage for him. He deserved the death he won,”
Brynhild’s eyes lit with rage.

“You mean the death you constructed,
dear sister,” Eir corrected. “Yet you threw yourself on the funeral
pyre to die in the flames with your accused deceiver.”

Brynhild walked up the steps to
twelve-foot tall gold doors. “I command the Valkyries, Eir. I
choose what hero lives or dies, even in the battles of my own life.
It is unfortunate that Freyja chose…”

Whap!

A tall blonde haired woman in silver
armor and a feather cloak appeared in front of Brynhild. “Chose to
return you to your rightful place? Chose to restore your blessed
gifts? Chose to acknowledge the slaying of your beloved Sigurd as
the duties of a true Valkyrie?” All of the Valkyries bowed their
heads to the woman, including Brynhild. “I believe I chose well,
Brynhild. I can return you to Hel’s domain if you wish, but I
promise that if you return there you will never see Sigurd
again.”

Brynhild remained unmoved but the
slightest widening and twitch in her eyes revealed the woman’s
words cut her deeply. “I apologize, Freyja, I did not mean to
offend you or sound ungrateful you brought me back to life. I
gladly serve you faithfully,” said Brynhild as she gracefully
bowed.

“I know you do, which is
why I am willing to forgive your insolence,” Freyja said smiling.
Freyja promptly turned her attention to Alina and Lysandros. “Queen
Alina, I presume?” She looked Lysandros up and down. “And
you
are a guardian?
Hmm.” Freyja lightly tapped her lips deep in thought as she stared
at Lysandros.

Lysandros looked at Alina
with a
who does this lady think she
is?
look. “You presume correctly. Freyja,
is it? And what do you mean
a
guardian? I thought I was
the
Guardian?” Lysandros retorted
with a hint of annoyance.

“Did you honestly believe there is
only one guardian for The Queen? Oh no, Sir, she has many. Three of
whom you will pick up today. You see, guardians change because they
frequently die.”

Two Valkyries took the silver reins of
the horses from Lysandros and Alina and motioned for them to follow
Freyja. The Valkyries led the horses down a path with the rest of
the winged steeds. Magic walked close to Lightning so that his
shoulder was touching hers to provide comfort.

Freyja sighed then opened the giant
hall doors and walked inside. “Anyway, let us not keep his most
honorable divineness waiting. Otherwise, he may throw a divine
tantrum.”

Lysandros laughed, but Alina put a
finger to her lips to hush him then pointed to the Valkyries. They
did not find Freyja’s harshness towards Odin funny. Their stern
faces grimaced at the goddess. Lysandros pursed his lips together
trying to keep a straight face as he followed the women into The
Great Hall.

The title “Great” did not accurately
describe the hall. “Rustic” would better suit their view. When the
doors opened, the pungent scent of stale mead and sweaty men
assaulted their senses. The loud hall bustled with hundreds of long
wooden tables packed with drunken men. The rough looking men roared
with laughter as some recounted stories while others yelled and
cheered for arm wrestling competitions. The soldiers Shields and
spears were strewn about the room, and axes were strapped to the
men’s backs.

Various weapons decorated the White
Ash walls of the The Great Hall. The ceiling had rows of
chandeliers made of Elk antlers. At the far end, a large throne
overlooked the room. The throne was like everything else in the
room…rustic. It was also constructed out of White Ash with white
leather cushions and adorned by the largest set of antlers in the
room. In the throne sat a burly man with a modest crown made of
plain bronze. His light brown, wavy hair met his shoulders, which
were covered by grey wolf pelts.

“Welcome, friends, welcome!” a voice
boomed through the hall as they entered. The loud welcome silenced
soldiers as they turned to stare at the new comers. “I am so glad
you made it to my humble abode.”

Alina looked around the room once with
a raised eyebrow, “Humble, Odin, would be an
understatement.”

At Alina’s side, Freyja laughed, “I
like her. She has fire in her that most men lack. You would make an
excellent Valkyrie. She won’t be fooled by you and your precious
Aesir silver tongue, Odin.”

Odin ignored Freyja’s comment. “I will
not keep you long even though I wish you would stay and enjoy our
feast. Völva tells me you are running on a strict
schedule.”

Panic filled Alina’s chest and her
eyes widened as she grabbed Lysandros’ arm.

“We’ll make it,” Lysandros reassured
her, not sure what they were making it to.

“I sent my son, Týr, to retrieve the
Lost Brothers. Consider this a gift of time.” Odin refilled his
goblet and fell back into his throne with one leg over the arm of
the chair.

As if on cue, a set of doors on the
side of the hall burst open from a man flying through them. He
slammed to the ground with a thud that even made Odin
cringe.

The man was young with short dark
brown hair and a clean-shaven face. The appearance of a
twenty-year-old, his handsome features stood out among the rest of
the gruff soldiers. He wore tattered, unkempt battle gear of an
Etrusci soldier, the silver and emerald green of the uniform
unmistakable amongst the earthy browns and evergreens the rest of
the men wore.

Through the door came a large man with
one hand missing carrying two men by the collar in the other hand.
He tossed the men on the floor next to the first one.

The next two men were dressed like the
first. Their thick black hair, bright hazel eyes, and the same
chiseled jaw line confirmed their relation. One man landed directly
on the first soldier. When he rolled over, he appeared to be in his
mid-to-late twenties with medium length hair that feathered out
just below his ears. The man next to him appeared to be the oldest
of the three, about mid-thirties, with dark scruffy facial
features. He held an air of authority with his wide shoulders
pushed back and head held high. He was the first to stand with his
sword ready to attack. His presence commanded fear and
respect.

“Nikolaos! Stop!” Alina cried out,
running towards the three men.

Nikolaos’ body froze, rigid in shock.
His head swiveled towards Alina with his mouth open. He had not
seen her in twenty years. Although Alina distracted Nikolaos, Týr
did not take his attention off his opponent and swung his sword to
tear a gash in Nikolaos’ chest. Before he connected with Nikolaos,
Thor appeared in front of him and slammed Týr in the chest with his
hammer. Týr crumbled on the floor against a pillar.

“I announced in all of our lands that
these men are not to be harmed, Brother! And that order also
applies to you!” Thor screamed, outraged by his brother’s careless
disregard for his order. The other soldiers uneasily made sure
their weapons were within reach, praying they would not have to
defend themselves against the thunder god.

Týr’s throat closed up and he gasped
for air clutching at his neck. Odin sighed impatiently and ordered
Thor to release him.

“It is not I who is doing this,
father,” Thor smiled, pleased with Týr’s punishment for disobeying
him.

“I am,” Freyja walked up to Odin’s
throne lightly squeezing a ball of water. “This is the second time
your son has made a direct attack in a fight he does not belong in.
He involves himself in matters that are not his concern.” She
squeezed the ball tighter and water spewed from Týr
mouth.

Odin furiously stood up
and threw his cup of mead across the room. Instead of taking his
anger out on Freyja, he lunged from his throne and grabbed Týr by
the collar. He hoisted Týr high above his head, shaking him with
anger. Odin berated Týr for allowing Freyja to defeat him as water
gushed from Týr’s mouth. “Twice she used this spell and twice you
have fallen for it.
Twice!
” Odin tossed Týr at Freyja
and told her to do what she wanted with him. Freyja looked
disgusted and released her spell.