I slipped out of her grip and bent to grab Mika and shimmy her over my shoulder again, ignoring Tyra's admonishing glare. She definitely didn't want me to bring Mika along. Well, tough. I was taking her home no matter what the dragon lady thought.
With Mika finally settled on my shoulder, I shuddered as the warmth began to leave her corpse. I followed Tyra, juggling the goblet and Mika. I didn't want to part with either of those burdens just then.
When we reached the Bridge, Tyra turned to face me. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, and I knew she meant to insist I leave Mika behind. Maybe it was the grim determination in my eyes that made her pause, that made her give me an assessing glance. My earlier fear of her was gone now, replaced by a steely resolve. With an almost imperceptible nod, the dragon queen stepped on the Bifrost and disappeared. I guess she figured I wouldn't leave Mika behind no matter what she said.
She was right.
Chapter 33
This time I barely registered any discomfort on the Bifrost. We stepped off the bridge into the transfer room, where the fire flared a bright warm welcome. I righted myself, legs a bit wobbly now, stomach still a bit whirly, but concentrating on my burdens and not much else.
"Where is Heimdall?" Tyra looked around, frowning, as if expecting someone to be there.
"Who?" I barely paid attention to her as I adjusted Mika's weight on my shoulder.
"Heimdall, the guard of the Bifrost?" Worry and concern flared in her eyes. "It is not normal for him to leave his post unattended."
"I'm sorry, Lady Tyra. I've never met anyone with that name in Asgard. And nobody has mentioned him to me either."
Tyra blanched, then clicked her tongue. "In all the time you have been here, nobody thought to mention the fact that the guard of the Bifrost is absent?" Her rant ended in a little high-pitched lilt, and I curbed the urge to smile. Boy, was she a tad worked up.
"Do you want me to ask somebody . . . ?"
"Never mind, child. You may want to get rid of that Ulfr, though." Tyra wrinkled her nose, as if she too had suddenly developed a special Ulfr odor detector.
I stiffened, a tiny bit offended at the implied insult, but caring a lot less now than I would have yesterday, or any day before Mika had betrayed me.
We left the transfer room and its comforting warmth and headed down the warren of welcoming torch-lit passages to Odin's hall. Lady Tyra followed me without a word. Inside the hall, silence reigned, but I knew it wouldn't be long before Odin arrived. He always seemed to know when I needed to talk to him, or just when I needed him.
Godly powers, no doubt.
I let Mika slide to the white marble tiles and straightened, enjoying the relief from her dead weight. My right hand, curled around the stocky base of the crude goblet, had almost fallen asleep. I pried my fingers from the goblet and rubbed them against my hip to get the blood moving again.
Barely seconds later, a figure shimmered at the dais, then another in the second throne. Both Odin and Frigga appeared, worry lining their foreheads. They sent curious glances and quick smiles in Lady Tyra's direction but soon the spotlight returned to me.
"Brynhildr." Odin's voice boomed across the empty hall.
"My lord," I said, bowing my head. "My lady."
"Come, child, tell us—have you succeeded?" Odin seemed a tad impatient.
I hesitated and swallowed hard before answering, "Yes. Sort of." I frowned, unsure of how my news would be received, suddenly terrified of their wrath.
"What is it, child?" asked Frigga, her voice much calmer and less antagonistic than the All-Father's booming tone. Her dark, warm eyes encouraged me to talk, as did her gentle smile. "Has Mika been injured?" I nodded, but before I could clarify the mortality of her injuries, Frigga asked, "Did you get the goblet?"
"The goblet was shattered." I winced, expecting a furious reaction. One that I did receive.
"What?" bellowed Odin. "How did such a thing happen?"
"Mika . . ." I turned to glance at her body. "She attacked me, grabbed the goblet from my hands. And when I tried to take it back, she threw it against a wall. It shattered into so many pieces. . . . It's fine now, I think." I held the ugly goblet up for both gods to inspect.
Odin's one grey eye swirled with stormy clouds. "I thought you said it shattered?" High above us, the wooden eaves shuddered at his question.
"Yes, and Lady Tyra put it back together. Will it still work?" I asked meekly, terrified I'd be punished, probably struck by lightning on the spot, reduced to a pile of Bryn-ashes in the blink of an eye.
"We can only try and hope that it does work." Frigga rose, sending Lady Tyra a grateful smile. The goddess held out her hand. A cloudy mist swirled above her palm, shimmering as if someone had thrown silver dust onto a puff of cotton wool. A pestle and mortar solidified in her hand as she drew closer to me, her pale dress shimmering with silver thread as she moved. "Take this." I stared at the pestle and mortar, confused. A heavy silence hung over the hall. "The Glasir has gifted you with that which you need, my child. Use the leaf, Brynhildr."
For a minute I was lost, and then it slowly sunk in.
Did I really have to sacrifice my leaf from the Glasir tree? This sucked.
I placed the goblet and the pestle and mortar on the floor before me, and bent my head to stare at the golden Glasir ring around my middle finger.
I'd grown so used to seeing it there, never removing it. I had to admit it had never given me the kind of comfort that my amber pendant had once given me, but it had sustained me in its own way.
My fingers traced the ridges of the shimmering golden leaf, then I pulled it off my hand, my heart lurching at the thought of pounding my precious leaf into dust.
I had no choice.
To save Aidan and Siri, I'd do just about anything. Dropping the leaf into the mortar, I began to pound it; each blow reverberated through the hall, and I felt the vibrations in my bones. Just minutes later, the bowl contained a little pile of fine gold dust.
Frigga bent over the mortar and nodded. "That will do." She rose to her feet and summoned a Huldra with the flick of her fingers. Heaven knew where they hid, only to appear as soon as Odin or Frigga wanted them.
The goddess sent the Huldra scurrying off to fetch Mead. It didn't take long before the red-tailed girl returned, carrying a tray that bore a small goblet of Mead, which Frigga handed to me. "Pour the powder into the goblet, then mix in the Mead. If the Mead changes to the color of blood, then the antidote will still work. Any other color means the power of the goblet is destroyed."
I swallowed, just staring at her until at last she beckoned for me to continue. It was now or never. There wasn't a prayer in the world that could change the way things were if I'd destroyed the goblet.
My hands shook as I poured in the golden dust. The silken sand swirled so smoothly into the rough-hewn base of the goblet. Next, I dribbled the Mead into the goblet, twisting the cup around and around in my hand to help the powder dissolve easily into the whirlpool of liquid gold.
My breath grew stale within my chest. I stood very still as I watched the golden liquid, watched it so hard I refused to blink.
Nothing.
It didn't change. The Mead just sat there in the lumpy goblet looking all gold and beautiful and disappointing. Tears burned at my eyelids and pooled in my throat. I feared that even an attempt to take a breath would bring me to my knees.
At long last, I blinked and lifted my gaze toward Odin and Frigga, my face crumpling and hot and aching. But even as I did so, Lady Tyra's soft gasp caught my ear, and my eyes shot back to the goblet. Within the golden swirling liquid, a thin line of red spun around and around, growing larger and thicker as the dust continued to mix into the Mead.
A choked sob erupted from my throat, and the dammed tears dissipated in the wake of such relief. With each passing second, the liquid bloomed redder and darker, until no sign remained of the Mead. Now the cup just held a thick red liquid that bore an eerily similar sheen to fresh warm blood.
Of all the amazing colors to choose, why, in heaven's name, did it have to be blood red?
In my mind's eye a vision shifted into startling clarity: Aidan's blood staining my palms. The thought of the unconscious duo of Siri and Aidan brought me back to a question I'd pondered often, before the shattering of the goblet. A question that I hadn't dared to voice yet. Who would get to use the elixir first? Would Lady Tyra expect me to give it to Siri first, or would she want me to try it on Aidan to see if it worked? Had I been in Tyra's shoes, I would've done just that—ensured the elixir worked before letting my child drink it, even if it meant using someone else as a guinea pig.
Or would I?
Maybe I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to endanger the life of an innocent person just to ensure Aidan would live.
I took the coward's way out and glanced over at Tyra, hoping she would make the decision for me. She drew closer, her rich skirts swishing on the smooth marble, to stare at the swirling liquid. It still spun in a tiny whirlpool even though I'd stopped twirling the goblet a long while ago.
"I think perhaps your young man would need the elixir first."
I couldn't hold back the soft sigh of relief that passed my lips. Neither could I bear the thought of the little girl having to wait any longer than necessary. "Can't we just both take half?"