I reached for her arm, determined to stop her. I didn't enjoy talking to a set of rigid wings, any more than the next Valkyrie. "Because you just answered a question with a question," I said. "Dead giveaway for you, Sigrun. And because I know you well enough by now to tell when something is bothering you."
She stopped, then made a quick sidestep to avoid a passing Ulfr. He nodded a greeting at us and walked off toward the gigantic carved doors of the palace.
Sigrun sighed and said, "Well, if you must know, I have been waiting for you to transition from your grief to accepting how much we have to do." She flicked me a cross look and narrowed her eyes. Yup, she wasn't happy at all. Guess she'd gotten over her amusement at my predicament fast enough. "And when you finally do let yourself free from your grief, instead of doing something meaningful, you do something stupid and stubborn like this? We need you, Bryn. You have to remind yourself of that!" She flicked me another irritated glance, then walked off, pushing open the doors to the paths outside.
I wanted to answer, to deny her words, but she was right. I'd been so absorbed with my grief. Losing Aidan for the second time had knocked me flat. Odin's words should have reminded me that I had more of a purpose here in Asgard than just saving Aidan.
I hurried after Sigrun, thinking silence was better than voicing my opinions, which would no doubt get me in trouble. I tried to hold my tongue. And failed miserably. I had to know.
"Is he angry?"
"Fenrir? No. He is amused." Sigrun gifted me with a tentative smile, her wings relaxing a fraction. "He said it was amusing."
"Yeah, real funny to see me crash land and go lights out!"
"Well . . ."
"Yeah, I know, it's my own fault. I should have listened to him." I exhaled, my breath cooling into a fine cloud before me.
"Why did you not listen and come back down?"
"Didn't he tell you how he got me to fly?"
Sigrun tilted her head and frowned.
I threw up my hands, gesturing toward the towering mountain in the distance. "He pushed me off the edge of a cliff! I thought I was going to die. Only panic made me react and flap my wings just enough to save me."
Sigrun's cheeks darkened with shock.
"As if that wasn't bad enough, he ran at me with his sword. I panicked, thought he meant to kill me and just flew straight up into the air."
"So he used a different method to teach you how to fly," Sigrun said, almost to herself, her brow furrowing.
"Yeah, I'd say trying to kill someone is a pretty different method of teaching flying techniques."
Sigrun sniffed, and if I read the signs in her face right, Fen was in deep trouble. Good. It never failed to amaze me how a centuries-old werewolf who could rip a person apart with his bare hands could be put into his place by a slip of a Valkyrie like Sigrun.
I looked away and smiled, pitying the General of the Ulfr when Sigrun found him today.
The brisk air prodded my aching flesh, cooling and tightening my sore muscles. Boy, was I glad when we entered the Bathhouse. I never got tired of the gold-veined marble pools, the ornate carvings, the sheer size and beauty of the bathing area. Or the amazing healing properties of the water.
We soaked in its heat, silent, contemplating our own private concerns. Sigrun's disapproval had got me thinking. I'd made my decision on where to go from here. A jab of temptation urged me to confide in my friend, but my common sense answered with a firm no way. Sigrun wouldn't approve.
Now her eyes were closed, a happy smile on her face as she soaked in the warm waters. I studied my friend for a moment and sighed. I'd been tempted to tell her what my intentions were. But it didn't matter what she would think or say. I'd already made up my mind. With my training for Fen's scout team starting soon, I'd be too busy to do much else. But there was still one obligation I had to fulfill first.
I had to see Aidan. See him up close and personal. Which meant only one thing.
I was going to Hel.
Chapter 7
I decided the only person I needed to tell about my trip to Hel would be the All-Father himself. To be honest, I suspected I'd need his permission before I set foot in Hel's realm anyway. Finding a time when old One-Eye was alone in the Great Hall would be the trickiest part.
In the end it wasn't tricky at all. Sigrun popped her head into my room to let me know I'd be alone at dinner. "I will be part of a scout team making a short trip to Midgard," she explained, before disappearing with a quick wave. I grabbed the opportunity and headed off to Odin's Hall.
Thankfully, the cavernous space was empty, but this hall was never deserted for very long at all. Odin paced the floor in front of his throne, one of his ravens balancing on his shoulder as he walked. I strode up to him, throwing a hurried glance around the hall to be certain we were totally alone.
I bowed my head and waited.
"Speak, Valkyrie Brynhildr." His single grey eye scrutinized me.
So I told him. And then I braced myself, watching his expression as he scanned my face. Would he forbid me? Or try to talk me out of it?
Whatever you do, please don't say no. I'm going, that's that.
I exhaled only when Odin nodded, his golden helmet reflecting the hall's many torchlights. "You will need a guide." He snapped his fingers. A rustle of wings brought the sudden weight of his raven to my shoulder. "Hugin will keep you out of trouble."
I frowned, eying the bird with mixed feelings. He'd better be more helpful than the last time Odin loaned him to me.
Minutes later I traveled the Rainbow of the Gods again with Hugin as my companion. The Bifrost still managed to be as disconcerting as ever. A mini-tornado swirled in my stomach, accompanied by a whirling in my head. For Asgard's main transportation system, the Bifrost scored a big fat zero for in-transit comfort.
My feet touched solid ground, and it took me a while to reorient myself. Tall trees and icy, stagnant air welcomed me to Hel. I'd expected Helheim to be hot, like Muspelheim, as both realms were technically part of the underworld. Shows how much I really knew.
I shivered, convulsion after convulsion rippling through me as I inspected the dark forest. Shadows clung to everything, and I stepped forward, needing to move to get some warmth into my limbs.
My feet trod a path of shattered stones that covered raw, black soil; the stones clattered underfoot like a chorus of chattering teeth. Ominous sounds that sent strange chills down my back. Dark trees loomed over me, limbs creaking eerily in the still air. Every tree stood stripped of its leaves, blackened, bark-bare and as bleak as the low sky above us. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and I was sure the trees reached out to grab hold of me. I blinked, then laughed at myself. Scaredy-cat. Shivering harder, I struggled to process this strange, bone-penetrating cold. Not a breeze stirred the icy air; no wind drifted past to shift the cold around.
I glared at Hugin.
Thanks for not telling me to bring warmer clothing, Blackbird.
What more could I expect from a birdbrain? The bundle of feathers probably had no idea how debilitating the cold was to me. And knowing him, he'd just say he didn't tell me because I hadn't asked. I huffed in silence.
The strange cold seeped into my skin, soaking into my bones. My breath emerged warm from my lungs but didn't mist in front of my face. Bare ground crunched beneath the soles of my sandals.
The odd, odorless quality of the air raised a prickle of goose bumps on my arms. The place smelled like nothing. No musty odor of dried wood, no smell of ice on the wind, promising a snowfall or a frost. I took a deep, and loud, breath. And frowned. Maybe my nose needed fixing.
Hugin shifted, then tightened his grip on my shoulder. "In Hel, one cannot smell."
"Huh? You mean you lose the ability to smell odors? Or is it that nothing generates an odor in this dead place?"
"Either. Both," came the enigmatic reply.
I clicked my tongue, disgusted with the bird's convoluted confusions. I didn't think I could get used to the bird's cryptic guidance at all. I walked on, hurrying down the path through the blackened trees, feeling as though a thousand dark eyes stared from the shadows as I went.
The sky hovered above, a dull, ashen grey, offering not a hint of the time of day. No pale moon shone, no vibrant stars sparkled. No clouds danced dull and lusterless.
"Strange place for Freya to live," I said to the bird, pondering how the glowing beauty of Freya would fit in here.
"Goddess Freya resides in this place, where the goddess Hel is queen, and though Freya may not belong, she has a purpose to fulfill here in Helheim."
I frowned at the words of Odin's oh-so-wise raven. Yeah, well, let's hope she's fulfilling her purpose and finding Aidan a cure.
The path curved, and the sounds of a battle up ahead pierced my ears. Metal clashed and clanged, ringing in my ears without an echo. The racket of the fight rang high and sharp, yet hollow, as if the air absorbed not only the natural odors but also the timbre of sound.
"What are they up to?" The question stuttered through my chattering teeth.
Just ahead of us, the trees parted to reveal a field in which two regiments of mismatched soldiers charged and fought a fierce but strangely bloodless battle. All around, the clang and clatter of sword on sword spiked my senses, a needle to my awareness.
Right in front of me, one man's sword sliced into his opponent's flesh, then dislodged with a rapid jerk, coming free without a drop of blood marring its gleaming surface. I gasped, shock trickling through my veins, yet still mesmerized by the horror. My gaze remained on the soldiers, absorbing detail after detail.