Dead Embers(44)

"Do you really think that elixir of yours is going to help Aidan?" Her sweet voice echoed gently around the pillared hall. I hated the way she said Aidan's name, as if she knew him so well.

How well can a girl get to know an unconscious guy, anyway?

"It will work. Odin confirmed the elixir will work." I wanted to throttle myself as soon as the words left my mouth. I sounded like I was trying really hard to convince myself that it would work. And I’d just given Astrid every reason to try to sabotage me.

The answering smile on Astrid's face confirmed she knew how desperate I was, knew the power she had over me. "Oh dear, Brynhildr. Do you have doubts now? I hope I was not the one who sowed the seeds of doubt in your mind." The fake sincerity in her voice sounded almost perfect, and then she spoiled it all by laughing. A laugh that grated even when it sounded halfway angelic.

I steadied my nerves, relaxing the desperate hold my fingers had on the goblet. As Astrid's laughter petered away, I took a few slow, small steps backward to the nearest table along the wall, and set the goblet down as fast as I dared. The ruby liquid sloshed, but thankfully nothing spilled. To the right of the goblet sat an array of ancient daggers. They gleamed malevolently, and reflected in each shiny blade was Astrid's cold, blue-eyed glare.

Without the burden of the goblet, I was free to grab my sword if and when I needed it. I faced Astrid, never taking my eyes off the other Valkyrie. She was certainly no friend. Never had been. I found it hard to believe Sigrun's revelation that Astrid had been part of Brunhilde's life, and that the guy she'd loved had left her for Brunhilde. Sad story, and if it were true I could understand a bit of her coldness. But I could never accept her icy, bitter hatred for me. I'd done nothing to her and yet she hated me as if I were the one who'd stolen her boyfriend.

My thoughts touched on Aidan, and I hoped that Astrid hadn't decided that he was up for the taking, since he was here in Hel with her.

Alone. Without me.

My hands quivered, but I focused on Astrid and bounced lightly on my knees. My wings fluttered at my back, reminding me that I actually knew how to fly now. The other girl would find herself equally matched should she decide to fly away. Which she did. As Astrid trained her gaze on my face, she rose into the air, her eyes a deep, impossibly dark shade of blue. She hovered above me at least by a head.

I gave a quick nod and shook out my wings. Rich rusty red, both wings puffed wide behind me. Astrid raised an eyebrow as if to say Yeah right, you are no match for me. That was okay with me. She would soon have to think again. I rose slowly, bringing myself to her level, my wings fluttering lightly at my back.

Astrid's eyes widened, their cold blue paling to an almost colorless ice. Her jaw worked as she gritted it, probably struggling not to ask me when I'd learned to fly. A little glow of joy ignited somewhere deep inside me, reveling in the knowledge that in some tiny way I'd already triumphed over Astrid.

I tossed her a tiny smile. "I take it you aren't going to let me pass?"

She just glared.

I reached for the sword at my waist and so did Astrid. Both metal blades sang as they left their scabbards. Although Astrid's sword possessed a beauty in its own song, it was no match for my sword.

The sword of Brunhilde.

The musical note rang around the hall, echoing repeatedly, swallowed at last by the shadows in the furthest corners. Astrid remained silent while my sword sang. If possible, her pale skin lost more color as the sound enveloped her. Her cheekbones stuck out starkly and, for a few seconds, she appeared a haggard, skeletal woman. I felt a little sorry for her. What must it be like to hold hate so close to one's heart for centuries?

We hovered a few feet off the ground, circling each other slowly, white and red wings fluttering, shedding a feather every so often. The hall fell deathly quiet, except for the susurration of shivering feathers and the thick malevolence of imminent battle.

Astrid struck first, and I would've thought she'd have learned something from our last battle on the field with Fen, before Freya had decided to use Aidan against me. She put her full fury behind the lunge, screaming her rage with vicious ferocity. Her strike was filled more with anger and passion than precision and intention, and it went wide. I ducked the blow with ease, spinning around to meet Astrid head on, careful to position myself between her and the goblet.

She struck again, this time breathing deeper, clearly calming herself, her chest rising and falling. Learning from her mistakes. Her eyes flashed blue fire, and she still gritted her teeth. Changing her tactic, she used a series of short sharp stabs rather than long sweeping swipes.

Time seemed to slow down as I watched her sword pass me by. I could almost trace the arc of the sword with my finger. Was I just imagining this?

What's happening to me?

My ears rang, but it wasn't the ringing clang of our swords as they crashed into each other. My senses seemed on fire; I could hear the beat of her heart, the tiny soughing of her breath as she inhaled and exhaled.

I watched as she blinked, so slowly that I could see each individual eyelash as her eyes closed.

Touch. Mesh. And pull apart again.

The thrall of the strange awareness pulled me off guard. Astrid's next blow almost landed right between my ribs, and I had to force myself to pay attention. Something extraordinary was happening to me, but I had no time to figure it out. I deflected Astrid's last blow and floated away from her. It gave me a chance to observe her.

My eyes fixed on Astrid's face again: her eyes, and even the way her muscles twitched in anticipation of her intended move. She thrust and I just knew where she aimed, parrying so easily it seemed like child's play.

All I did was stir Astrid's fury.

With a sudden surge, she spread her wings out to flap upward. I followed, forcing myself not to admire the beauty of her pure, white, silver-tipped wings.

I flapped hard and rose to meet her, and she took the challenge. She dove, keeping her wings tight against her, heading straight for me. I paused and waited for the very last second. I waited until she was almost upon me—then twisted hard to move out of her way. Too late. I'd undercompensated somehow. Or maybe Astrid was smarter than I'd given her credit. She slammed into me and we tumbled.

Limbs and wings entangled, we fell to the ground, unable to release each other to fly off safely. Astrid hit the ground first, uttering a slightly comical oomph! on impact as the air slammed out of her lungs. Luckily for her she fell on her wings, the soft feathers and pliable bone taking her weight.

I shoved my way up, got back onto wobbly legs and brandished my sword again, losing all patience with her. She seemed determined to stop me. But the thought of Aidan, waiting patiently and unconsciously for me to save him, spurred me on, giving me the strength and determination to challenge Astrid again.

Time to get my Valkyrie on.

I took the lead, wasting no time in charging at her. Astrid lunged with her sword, a flurry of stabs, a set of swipes. I parried, tried to hold her off, but she advanced. Pushed me back against one of the gigantic wooden pillars dotting the hall.

She brought her sword down on me. I ducked, the sword missing my cheek by a mere inch, chopping off a hunk of hair and missing my ear by a whisper of a prayer.

I shoved at her, pushing off the pillar, but she spun, landing a solid back-fist to my face, strengthened by the heavy weight of the hilt of her sword. My cheek exploded with agony, pain splintering my jaw. I gasped, shuddering against the rising bile in my throat.

I fell to the ground, giving Astrid the upper hand. Although I scrambled to get back on my feet, I was too late. She ran at me, sword in hand, tip piercing my throat. I swallowed, despite my fear that the slightest rise of my skin would slit my throat.

"I have you now, Brunhilde. All this while you thought you could get away from me?" Astrid's voice shuddered, echoing strangely around the empty hall. "It is time you paid for taking Gunther from me."

I gasped, sucking in air even though the vicious point of her sword pressed against my throat. "What are you talking about? Astrid! You're not making sense." With each word I spoke, I could feel her blade draw shallow notches in my skin.

"Sense!?" she screamed, bending low over me in a pained crouch, her eyes rolling, shadowed now by an eerie darkness. "I do not need to make sense. You took him away, and if I cannot have him back then I will make you pay."

In her fury Astrid paid close attention only to my face and neck.

She didn't see my leg.

I flung my foot out, connecting to the back of her knee, throwing her off balance. At the same time, I sunk as far into the ground as I could to get away from her sword, missing the point by a hairsbreadth as she swept it around.

I gasped, sucking air back into my lungs, tenderly tracing my throat.

Talk about a close shave. Too close for comfort.

I leapt back onto my feet, legs still unsteady, but my heart and mind filled with purpose.

Astrid screamed her anger. She launched to her feet again and meant to meet me head on. Only my instinct told me when to swing my sword wide, when to kick her feet out from under her.

She fell again, her sword clattering on the light wood floor. She grimaced; ruby splotches marring her serene beauty. Astrid rolled away from me, barely getting to her feet in time before I lunged again.

She ducked, then ran for her sword. I didn't stop her.

I was no coward.

We fought, sweat pouring from my forehead, soaking through chainmail and jacket. Astrid soon sported two flaming red cuts—I loved my sword. As yet, I was free from injury, except for the little cuts at my throat.