Tyra shook her head. "I suspect the elixir will only work while it remains within the goblet." Tyra glanced past me, looking to Odin for corroboration.
"The Grand Lady Tyra is correct, Brynhildr. You will need to take the goblet and the elixir to Aidan and revive him first."
I hesitated. "But what about Siri?"
"Siri can wait, Brynhildr." Lady Tyra grasped my arm in an uncharacteristically tender move. "It is just a matter of time before my grandchild drinks of the cure, and time means naught to her. Perhaps time is more important to you and to your young Warrior. So please. Go to him and make him better. I know you will not be long; therefore I will wait here."
"Brynhildr, Tyra is right," said Odin. "Aidan must be attended to first. The scout teams are in need of bolstering, and Brody is still somewhere out there waiting to be rescued."
Odin's words struck me with a shuddering force. I'd been deep within the bowels of Swartelfheim, battling evil dwarf queens and fighting for my life against my traitorous Ulfr partner, and for me, the real world had pretty much ceased to be. Now that I'd returned to Asgard, I was reminded of the grave danger to all the einherjar. Reminded that life wasn't going back to normal. There was no normal anymore.
"Come, Brynhildr. I will take you straight to Freya's Hall." Odin's voice echoed a little in the gigantic room. He held out his hand, beckoning me to take it. Was he really asking me to hold his hand?
I tried to contain my surprise, but I didn't do a very good job. Odin laughed at my confused expression. "The gods have a special access to the Bifrost. We are able to enter it at will, and wherever we require it."
I remembered how Freya had disappeared with Aidan in her arms. In just a blink, she'd been gone. And then, for the first time, something made a lot of sense. "Is that how Sigrun brought me to Asgard?"
Odin nodded, and his single eye crinkled at the corners with a smile. "You are very astute, my child. I helped Sigrun to go to your home and bring you to Asgard safely. When the gods use the Bifrost, the trip is a little different."
"Speaking of the Bifrost, my lord, the Lady Tyra has enquired about Heimdall." I frowned, since I still had no idea who this Heimdall person was. Admittedly, my Asgard general knowledge was still sadly lacking.
Odin's face darkened and he sat back down on his throne. I gulped, suddenly afraid I'd asked the worst question possible, but I couldn’t retract it. And, now that Odin's scowl made the answer seem more intriguing, I no longer wanted to take it back.
"Who is Heimdall, my lord?" I ventured the question.
Odin's smile had disappeared, his face now just terribly sad. "Heimdall is the guardian of the Bifrost."
"What happened to him? I've never seen him around."
"Many moons ago, we discovered that Heimdall had disappeared from Asgard," said Odin, his voice now as sad as his expression.
"Disappeared?" Tyra interjected, her tone a tad too loud and shrill.
"Yes, Tyra, my dear. One day, a few months ago, Heimdall was just not here. Gjallarhorn was gone too."
"Gjallarhorn?" I asked, too confused to keep silent, despite the tension hanging in the air.
This time the All-Father seemed to welcome my question. Maybe he realized I had a few sizeable gaps in my Asgard knowledge. He stroked his chin as he answered. "Heimdall possesses a horn called Gjallarhorn. It is the horn with which Heimdall is meant to summon the gods when Ragnarok commences." He shared a worried glance with Frigga, and she leaned over to squeeze his hand between hers.
If Odin needs comforting, then this Heimdall thing must be bad.
"And without the horn?" I asked.
"Without the horn, the task of summoning all the gods will become ten times more difficult. The call of Gjallarhorn can be heard across all nine realms. Such is the power of Heimdall's horn."
"And you have not sent anyone to look for him?" Tyra snapped, her eyes blazing, almost accusing. Her bold reprimand shocked me. No one spoke like that to the All-Father.
Odin shook his head, a deep sorrow shadowing his single grey eye. "No, Tyra. We have no idea where he is or if he will return."
"And what does Mimir say?" The edge of an angry challenge still sharpened Tyra's voice.
"Sadly, Mimir cannot tell. He can see nothing but shadows, not even a glimpse of Heimdall's life or future."
Something told me this was very, very bad. My gut clenched with an unknown fear for the missing god.
"But why, why would he leave?" Tyra stuttered, almost pleading for an answer.
"He did not just leave, my dear. Gulltoppr is still in Asgard," said Odin, his voice neutral though his single eye still blazed. With what? Anger or fear? Or a little of both?
I risked another interruption. "Who—"
Tyra answered before I even finished my question. "Gulltoppr is Heimdall's golden stallion. I know Heimdall; he would never leave his beloved horse behind." She glowered at Odin. "There must be something we can do."
But Odin shook his head, the weight of his sadness forcing him to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees. "Mimir has no sight of him, Tyra. You must understand we have no idea where to look. And we are so shorthanded we cannot spare anyone to go looking on the off-chance of finding him."
Tyra nodded, though her jaw hardened, the muscles tensing in her cheek. Odin rose and stepped off the dais. He paused beside the dragon matriarch and touched her shoulder. And then I understood that perhaps Heimdall meant more to Tyra than a mere acquaintance, or even just a friend. Odin squeezed her shoulder, then walked to me.
"Come, Brynhildr, we must hurry. Hold on to that goblet, my dear." Odin beckoned, and I hurried to stand beside him. I wasn't keen to test his patience by taking my own sweet time or asking any more ignorant questions. I wanted to get to Aidan as fast as was possible.
"Keep calm, and take care of the goblet."
Okay. Goblet, got it. Can we go already?
And then in a few short moments I stood in Freya's Hall, my stomach churning and an invisible tornado whipping my hair about my face and sending the feathers on my wings aflutter.
Chapter 34
Odin blinked away in a rush of air, but I barely noticed. I was too busy trying to keep hold of the contents of my stomach. I blew strands of hair out of my face and swallowed repeatedly. Despite the warmth of the wood and the fires, Freya's empty hall felt hollow, spiritless, as if no ghost or shadow dared to linger.
I tread cautiously across the wooden floor, gripping the goblet, careful not to tilt the fragile glass, so careful not to lose a drop of the precious bloody liquid. My concentration on the elixir took my eyes off my surroundings for a few brief moments, and I paused and scanned the room again, my heart knocking hard against my ribs.
Empty dais, empty throne, empty hall.
No Freya, and, more importantly, no Astrid.
I let out a little sigh of relief . . . then wanted to kick myself. Why the hell should I care whether Astrid was around or not? I'd proved I could fulfill a task that even the Warrior Brunhilde had been unable to complete. I'd shown Astrid up, lived up to her challenge, proved I had better sword-fighting skills than she had.
And yet I still felt a slight trepidation at the thought of facing Astrid again. The girl just plain didn't like me. In fact, I'd bet my sword that she hated me.
I headed toward the double wooden doors to the right of the dais, hoping my memory was good enough to guide me to Aidan's room. But I didn't get more than a few steps farther before a sudden rush of feathers and air swirled toward me. The faint scent of perfume trailed the gust like an invisible scattering of petals.
Guess I should have known better than to think that Astrid would pass up an opportunity to get me alone. She hovered before me, pristine wings outspread, sending a deceptively gentle breeze toward me. She looked decidedly angelic.
Well, with Astrid what you see certainly ain't what you get.
No way was I going to give her the satisfaction of craning my neck to look up at her. I just kept an eye on the distance between her hands and the gleaming hilt of her sword.
I really didn't want to fight, not here, not now. I'd spill the elixir for sure, no matter how careful I was. But I didn't dare set it on the floor. Not with Astrid armed and in kill mode right in front of me. All I could do was wait for her next move.
Astrid landed; she touched the ground with the tip of a graceful toe, her hair floating around her in soft blonde clouds. She exuded a beauty so ethereal, so angelic, that it just didn't seem fair to me, because Astrid possessed a heart as icy as the depths of Hel's frigid wastelands. Not to mention the fact that she was far too eager to relieve me of my head.
I didn't plan to give her the chance.
"I see you have returned, Brynhildr," Astrid said, her tone amused, with a hint of arrogance.
Yeah, tell me something I don't know. But I kept that thought to myself, saying, "I have the elixir. I need to see Aidan."
With my eyes glued to Astrid, and holding the goblet as steady as I could, I took a few careful steps toward the double doors that would take me to Aidan's room. But Astrid rose and flew right into my path, a hard challenge in her eye. Her cool blue gaze trailed my precious burden, and my stomach lurched. I imagined the irreplaceable liquid freezing over from the touch of her stare. But I met those ice-blue eyes head on, refusing to allow her to intimidate me.