Dead Embers(26)

I didn't comment on her athleticism and neither did Steinn. He led the way through the heated passage. Before long, we reached the real entrance to the realm of Muspell. Strange. I'd made this trip with Aidan and Hugin, and I could have sworn that time the journey had lasted a whole lot longer.

A low growl up ahead interrupted my trip down memory lane. A moment later we encountered the Surt—the fire giant. Damn. I'd forgotten I would have to face him at some point. I hoped he wouldn't remember who I was. . . . The last time we'd met, we'd had a little fight in which the giant had ended up lights out and flat on his back, and I'd left with his ball-and-chain weapon as my spoils of war.

The giant grimaced down at me, flames dancing in the darkness of his pupils. His hands folded into fists.

Steinn strode past, unconcerned, hardly bothering to glance at the giant. "Thank you, Bal," he said as we passed.

The giant bowed, but I felt his eyes on me, as if he remembered our encounter and was considering the appropriate response. I walked past very slowly. And only when I was forced to exhale did I even register that I'd held my breath the entire time. Bal's glare burned a hole in my back.

We entered the passage and headed toward Steinn's realm. I hurried to catch up with him. "I take it he's still a bit peeved."

"Bal is a Surt, and the Surt are a warrior race. He knows both defeat and success. And you defeated him in a fair fight."

"If you can call a fight between a fire-breathing giant and human a fair fight," I said, raising an eyebrow and shaking my head.

Steinn didn't see my reaction; he just strode ahead, forcing me into a trot to keep up. "You are an ungracious victor, Valkyrie Brynhildr."

I snorted.

"What is he going on about?" Mika thrust her question at me through gritted teeth.

I gave her a quick rundown of my last encounter with Bal the Surt back when Aidan and I had visited Muspell to obtain the missing pieces of Brisingamen for Freya. When I finished, Mika raised an eyebrow. "A lot of good that did you," she commented, the tone of her voice lost in the darkness of the stone passageways.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you managed to retrieve the necklace, but Aidan was still lost to you in the end. You may have won your skirmish with that giant, but you lost a more important battle with Loki."

I bristled at the comment. Not because it was untrue, but hearing it aloud forced me to accept that my escapade was very much public knowledge in Asgard. And here was proof that the general perception was that I'd failed Aidan.

Gritting my teeth, I kept my silence. She was entitled to her opinion. We were only newly friends anyway. Besides, I could hardly expect every one of my friends to agree with my choices.

I will get you back, Aidan, no matter what it takes. I'd already sworn both to him and myself that I would. Brody's disappearance would only delay the inevitable.

Steinn marched ahead, growing more silent the closer we got to his home, while Mika and I tried to keep up. At last we arrived at Steinn's cavern, and a twinge of guilt twisted in my gut. The last time I'd walked the floor of Steinn's hall, I'd hurt him badly enough to draw blood. Thank goodness he held no grudge, unlike the Surt.

Steinn walked us through the cavern, through a high archway—high enough for a fully grown Steinn-sized dragon to pass through, carved with a multitude of intricate carvings that looked very much liked they belonged in Asgard.

We descended through the muggy, fire-lit passages, following Steinn. As he went further, the silence became almost deafening, the dragon-man's worry palpable. I couldn't even get him to tell us where we were going.

We reached another small cavern with a half dozen passages leading in a half dozen different directions. The dragon-man took the first passage on the left, and I had to jog to keep up.

He stopped so abruptly I almost jogged right past him. Mika came up behind us, annoyance clear in her scowl. But she didn't have a chance to raise an eyebrow, her attention focused on the amazing door standing before us.

Somehow I'd imagined most doors in this land of obsidian rock and bubbling hot lava would be made of stone. I now stared straight at an intricately carved wooden door made from the darkest of wood and polished to a high reflective sheen.

The Nidhogg let out a sad, almost defeated sigh. "My daughter is resting. Please do not raise your voices," Steinn said, his voice cold. "The last thing we need is for her health to worsen."

He reached for the knob.

My heart thumped as a terrifying thought threatened to send me into a blind panic.

Would Steinn's daughter still be okay?

Would she even be alive?

And what would Steinn do to me if she weren't?





Chapter 22




The intricately carved door swung open, its hinges barely whispering. Two people occupied the richly carpeted room. A young girl lay supine on a four-poster, gilt-edged masterpiece that could hardly be called a bed.

An older woman gazed out of a multi-paned window, engrossed in either her thoughts or the view, her pale skin bathed in a golden light.

Steinn paused by the bed, staring down at the girl. Then he cleared his throat. "Móðir, how is she?"

"The child is the same, my son. No better and no worse than yesterday." She turned to face us.

Behind me, Mika gave a soft gasp, and I choked on my own. The old woman's pale face was unlined except for a handful of wrinkles at the outer corners of her eyes, which made me think that some time, a long while ago, this woman had once been happy, had once smiled and laughed. Her leathery skin had definitely seen better days. But her eyes made me sure she was very much alive and alert, no matter how old she seemed.

The woman gazed at me with eyes that shimmered. A pair of burning, flaming, golden eyes.

"Mother, this is Brynhildr."

"Ah yes, the reason my granddaughter is in this condition." The woman's eyes flared brighter, and I almost cringed, suddenly sure that the heat of her eyes would burn out her eyeballs.

"Now, Mother, you know that is not fair."

"I hardly think it matters what is or is not fair, Steinn." She gestured toward the girl on the bed, the short, sharp movement a strange mix of anger and sadness. "Our reality is that Siri lies here in this strange sleep, worse since she drank the Mead. Mead, I might add, brought to us by this Valkyrie." Steinn's mother glided toward me, her floor-length coat swishing against the bronze silk of her skirts, her eyes reflecting the disdain so clear in her tone.

As she moved away from the window, I was surprised to see that the golden gleam did not leave her skin. I puzzled on the reason for her golden hue. Until she stood before me, and I realized I'd totally missed what had been staring me right in the face all along.

Hundreds of tiny butter-colored scales covered her pale golden skin. She was a dragon, of course.

Too many moments passed while I remained entranced by the beauty of the dragon-woman's skin. Only when she cleared her throat did I blink and meet her fiery eyes. Wow.

"I'm sorry, I—"

The silence dragged as I gave up trying to find something to say. I breathed a sigh of relief when Steinn broke the awkward silence. "Forgive me, Brynhildr. Please meet my mother, the Grand Lady Tyra. She is the Guardian of the Nidhogg and the Mother of All." Steinn ended his introduction with a little bow, which I somehow felt I needed to emulate.

I offered a quick bend at the waist and rose with a placid smile pasted on my face, still feeling slightly ridiculous, having only ever bowed to Odin before. This woman, however high up in the dragon hierarchy, was no god.

I must have done the right thing, because when I met her gaze she nodded back, the wrinkles at her eyes smoothing somewhat.

A soft snore emanated from the bed, and four heads turned toward the unconscious child. Steinn threw me a sad and weary grimace. "Siri has always snored, although she would never admit to such a thing."

"I have yet to meet a woman who approves of being accused of snoring," Tyra responded, and a sense of warmth pervaded the room. I had to squash a giggle. My heart swelled as I absorbed the affection Steinn and his mother had for Siri.

I drew close and stared at the sleeping girl, who was probably not much younger than me. Another soft snore erupted, and her eyeballs danced beneath her gold-tinged lids. I tensed, hoping she'd open her eyes and smile at her father, but they remained tightly shut.

"She dreams?" I asked, thinking of Aidan. Would he dream of me at all? That, at least, would give him some form of company in the barren land of his poisoned haze.

"I believe she does," Steinn said.

"She often speaks in her sleep, and sometimes she has nightmares," Lady Tyra answered, her voice stiff, like hard gold molded to rock-solid perfection. But when she spoke again her voice quivered; it was as if that solid gold had melted, and whatever she feared most fell into it, sending out ripples to mar its flawless surface. "Sometimes she cries."

***

Mika shuffled from one foot to another behind me, and I tried to find something else on which to focus my attention. Any other place besides the huge four-poster bed, which seemed to swallow the young girl within its carved stone maw. A blood-red blanket lay flat upon her body, outlining her slim frame and long legs. So thin, so fragile.

Lady Tyra stared at me from the other side of the bed, as tears gleamed in her eyes. The liquid proof of her ability to love deeply was at odds with the cold, hard gaze she turned on me. A gaze that drew a rash of goose bumps on the skin of my arms. At that moment, I wished I'd managed to find another place to focus my attention on. Even the sight of the unconscious girl was welcome compared to the stare of the dragon matriarch.