Dead Embers(2)

So, time for my telling off at last. A few days hiding in my quarters must have gotten tongues wagging and a whole heap of people worried if the Supreme Father of the Norse Pantheon was so concerned for the well-being of a nobody like me.

"I understand, my lord."

Odin nodded at my words, but I wasn't finished, and I hadn't intended to just agree with him. I couldn't agree. Tears rose and singed my throat, and I added, "But I should really have paid closer attention to Loki, and to Aidan. Aidan was my responsibility. And no matter how I look at it, I failed."

Odin's mouth twitched, and his one-eyed expression shifted from pleasant to scowling. His eyebrows, thick and wiry, almost met at the middle of his forehead. I glared back without flinching. Somehow, I had no fear of this great god. Not that I lacked respect for him or his almighty power. I knew he cared about me, and something told me he would never harm me.

But I was still mad at him.

A soft rumbling like distant thunder sounded as Odin cleared his throat. "Come now, Brynhildr. You must pull yourself out of this grief and self-blame. It is time to move ahead. Time to act instead of feeling sorry for yourself." Odin paused, and a flush spread across his pale cheeks; whatever he'd been thinking had just angered him. When he spoke again, he raised his voice. "Life is moving along without you, and I can no longer allow you to wallow in self-pity. I need you on the front lines."

Something about the urgency in his words piqued my curiosity. "What's going on?" My forehead creased as I looked around the room at the gathered troops, then back at Odin.

Odin's gaze shifted to something behind me, just for an instant, and then his eyes met mine again with a fierce intensity. "We have assembled the scout teams," the All-Father said. "And Fenrir needs to train and dispatch the teams. We need you, Brynhildr, and we cannot wait."

Bootsteps scruffed the marble behind me, the sound making me glance over my shoulder, just as a new voice spoke.

"Well, I thought I would have to come and drag you out of your room by your lovely red hair, Bryn!" Fen's voice rang through the hall as he strode toward the dais.

His teasing brought a small smile to my lips. As much as I'd stubbornly denied it all this time, I now had to admit I had a certain fondness for Fenrir, despite the unfortunate fact that he happened to be the son of the god who'd stabbed Aidan. Or the fact that he also just happened to be a living, breathing, super-strong werewolf. He grinned at me and slapped my shoulder as he stopped beside me.

"What say you, Bryn, are you ready to return to Midgard? We have a fair amount of trouble to attend to," Fen said.

"What do you mean?" My eyes flicked from Fen to Odin. "What's going on?"

"Mimir has spoken," Odin said, his voice booming. "The Vanir have placed their spies in Midgard. People in strategic and important positions. Positions that will be sure to undermine the power of the gods."

I still didn't understand what this had to do with me. Had the god Mimir seen something in my future? I cast a glance at Fen, but his eyes were on Odin, waiting for the Father of the Gods to finish.

"Brynhildr, we have to increase our effort to gather more Warriors. We are no longer in a position to wait. We are creating an elite scout team, one that will do both Search and Retrieval, and do it in double or triple the volume of the old teams. And we will be including the Warriors, too."

This news startled me enough that I risked interrupting. "But I thought the scout teams were always Valkyrie and Ulfr?"

Odin's scowl darkened, tracking deeply above his eyebrows. "Yes, they are, and always have been," he said. "But things are different now. Our army of Warriors has been depleted over time. Retrievals are occurring less and less often. Our army is no longer at a capacity that will ensure our success at Ragnarok."

Fen grumbled, "We need more Warriors, and we are just not getting them anymore."

"Why aren't we getting new Warriors?" I blinked. Confusion clouded my brain as a dull headache set in. I was starting to think I should have stayed in my room.

"That is what we need to find out," answered Fen. "And that is why we need a skilled, strong and courageous team." He gripped my shoulder and gave it a light shake.

"So who's on the team?" I asked.

"Joshua, Aimee and Sigrun, plus our Ulfr."

"Joshua and Aimee?" My jaw dropped. "But they aren't even trained properly." As soon as I spoke I regretted my outburst. Who was I to judge, when I'd been so deeply immersed in self-blame and self-pity. Fen's next words confirmed my thoughts.

"Bryn, the whole Nine Realms did not stop when you went to find Brisingamen. Nor did it stop when Aidan was poisoned." He smiled a little, perhaps to take the edge off his words.

Too right. It was just my world that had ground to a halt.

Fen jabbed his hand toward the back of the hall, where my two friends from Craven stood among the crowd. "Joshua and Aimee have trained long and hard these past few weeks, and from their progress they are ready enough to take on this mission."

Aimee grinned at me, and Joshua flashed a thumbs-up. My heart warmed at the sight of them, and I gave them a small, happy wave. Adrenalin surged through me at the very thought of working again, of training again, and for a brief moment I forgot the steady ache in my heart. It had taken me far too long to embrace who and what I was: a real, living, breathing Valkyrie—and the only one in the history of Asgard born as a Valkyrie. Accepting that news would've been hard had it not been for my friends. And now I had the opportunity to work beside them.

I grinned at Fen. "So when do we leave?"

"Patience, Brynhildr." Fen's dark eyes narrowed to lupine slits, and my grin dissolved. He hadn't called me anything but Bryn in a long while now, and he knew the full name irked me. But I let it slide.

"You have a few things to learn," he said.

I crossed my arms, my tense shoulders no doubt revealing my stubborn streak. I didn't want to be held back any longer. I'd beaten a fire giant for heaven's sake . . . what more did they expect me to learn?

Fen's eyebrows rose an inch, his eyes gleaming in amusement. My wings fluttered in nervous response as he fixed his stare upon them. I opened my mouth, but Fen's next words startled me into silence, forcing me to swallow whatever smartass quip hovered on my tongue.

"Those things are useless until you actually learn how to use them, you know?"

For the first time since I'd scrubbed Aidan's blood from my hands, a thrill of excitement coursed through me—sweet and hot and filled with delight.

I was going to learn how to fly!





Chapter 3




Fenrir shoved the carved palace doors open, and a blast of cold air struck my face. He headed around the stone building, walking briskly. I followed in silence. The sword hilt at my side clinked against my chainmail vest, the noise echoing off the palace's tall walls.

When we reached the end of the wall, I paused for a moment to gaze at the impressive structure emerging from the side of the snow-kissed mountain. The full majesty of Odin’s white stone palace bore down on me, and yet the weight of it was hardly oppressive. It seemed to impart a bit of that majesty to me. I smiled, grateful to borrow from its strength.

I needed strength, now more than ever. Sure, I wanted to learn how to fly, but I wasn't a real Valkyrie. Not like all the other Valkyries. They were chosen after a lifetime of earning their position in Odin's army. I, on the other hand, was a fraud. I hadn't earned my place. I was just a clone, created in a test tube by a father who'd lied to me my entire life. What if something went wrong? What if I couldn't fly at all? A sudden violent urge to run turned my legs into a bundle of tense nerves and muscles.

But fleeing was not an option.

I gritted my teeth, suddenly not looking forward to this training session with the Ulfr general. My wings fluttered at my back, fine-tuned to the butterflies that thrashed around in my stomach. A Valkyrie warrior maiden should be brave and strong. Unfortunately, this Valkyrie happened to be a great big chicken.

Up ahead, Fen barked my name. "Bryn!"

I dragged my eyes from the beauty of the palace, and my thoughts from the mire of my nervous doubts, and trudged after him, kicking at clumps of snow-drowned stones, just in time to see him disappear behind a tall standing stone.

At first I assumed Fen meant to lead me to a special training area behind the palace, but nothing of the sort existed here. Just snow and great, big, human-sized rocks littering the ground. I scowled and used his tracks in the snow to find his path. He'd branched to the right, away from the palace boundary, toward the craggy boulders and the snow-covered mountain peaks high above.

Icy fingers of cold clawed at my tongue and throat as I huffed and hurried after him. Winter had already taken Asgard in her grasp when I'd lost Aidan to Loki’s venom. Lost him to Freya’s Hel-bound ministrations. But within the last week, winter’s fist had tightened mercilessly, deepening the season's dark and frigid ache.

A gust of wind whipped my hair around my face, and I tugged at it impatiently, trying to pay attention to my footing as I followed Fen. Soon I caught sight of him again, a dark shape amongst the gigantic boulders. Pulling my woolen cloak closer, I bent against the driving gusts that grew in strength as we plodded up the face of the mountain— and stopped only when I almost ploughed straight into Fen’s back as he came to a sudden halt.