Dead Radiance(22)

"No, no. I mean, our location in the world?" The weather seemed similar to back home, so I assumed we were somewhere in the Northern Hemisphere. I hadn't been in Asgard long enough to observe the time of sunset or anything that would let me know how far north we were, or any information to help me find a way home.

"You are not thinking of running away from Asgard, are you?" She stopped in her tracks, frowning, and faced me. Her wings fluttered, emphasizing her consternation. She gripped my arm with a ferocity I'd never have expected from such a mild-mannered girl. "You cannot try to leave yet. You are here to fulfill your purpose, and you have so much more to learn."

I gently pulled my arm free. I didn't want her to worry. And perhaps she would be in serious trouble if her charge ran away. So I lied. "No, don't worry. I have no intention of running away. Things here are far too interesting."

And she still had so much to tell me. What was this purpose I was meant to fulfill? Why couldn't they be clear from the start? But I didn't want her to be suspicious, to stop trusting me with information. So I smiled.

She scrutinized my face as if my features would reveal my lie. Then she nodded and let go of my arm. "Good. Then come. I have something else to show you today." She tucked her arm into mine.

I wanted to rub my arm where her vice-like grip had dug into my flesh, but I steeled myself against such a show of weakness. The pain ebbed. Together we walked over another hill, farther away from the castle.

Grunts and groans and the sounds of scuffling disturbed my enjoyment of the scenic view. Horses whinnied and chuffed somewhere beyond the hill, and a strange yipping filled the air. Dogs?

I assumed it was a dog hunt.

Yeah, I assumed.

Until I rounded the corner and almost fell on my butt in shock.

A handful of strange horses, along with wolves the size of the horses, were walking, prancing and running as if going through some kind of training. My jaw dropped and I stared in awe.

Sleipnir. A magnificent eight-legged horse. Reading about one and imagining what it would look like was an entirely different experience from actually seeing a Sleipnir in the flesh. And in this case not just one, but at least a dozen. I would have thought any land creature with that many legs would look clumsy and overburdened. But the Sleipnir displayed both the grace and the elegance of an Arabian stallion.

Wow.



They were simply magnificent. Of varying dark colors, they were solidly muscled and moved with a liquid grace. Despite the mud and solid clumps of soil mixed with upturned sods of grass, the Sleipnir seemed to have magically avoided the mess and came away clean and gleaming.

The wolves, on the other hand, weren't that fortunate. Their mud-splattered, matted pelts gave them the look of your average drenched dog at bath time. I blinked many times, expecting the scene to disappear once I opened my eyes again.

Unbelievable.

"Come." Sigrun pulled my arm.

My gaze strayed behind me, back to the fascinating sight, but the pressure of Sigrun's grip on my arm forced me to move. I followed with a wistful sigh, walking along a stone wall until I stood at the open gate.

"Why did they leave the gate open? Won't the animals escape?" I regretted the question as soon as I'd asked it. Sigrun's face darkened at the word animals, and I knew I'd insulted her in some way. "I'm sorry. I . . ."

I wasn't exactly sure what I should say to make her feel better, nor did I understand what I'd said to offend her, but an apology seemed appropriate.

She brushed it off, though her face still retained a stiffness I'd never seen before. She said, "Do not worry about it. You have much to learn and we cannot get angry at you when you have no idea what you are saying."

Her gaze returned to the field where a rather large man stood near the fence, watching the melee within the grounds. As we approached, he turned and I swallowed, trying really hard not to faint.

He was not a man. Where his head should have been was the head of a wolf. A large, black-haired, toothy, scary wolf. At first I thought he was merely a bipedal wolf, but when he turned and waved at Sigrun he used a perfectly normal human hand. I desperately wanted to ask Sigrun what was going on and who this creature was, but it was too late. We were standing right beside him now, and all I wanted to do was to turn and make a run for it. My knees shivered, my wings fluttered in fear and my heart thumped faster than a freight train.

He smiled at Sigrun and glanced at me, curiosity gleaming within intelligent eyes.

Sigrun smiled back and blushed as she made introductions. "Fenrir, this is Brynhildr, our newest Valkyrie." The rosy color in her cheeks and the way her eyes widened made me wonder if my new friend had a crush on this monster. "Bryn, this is Fenrir, the General of the Ulfr Army," she said.

We shook hands and I managed not to grimace as my palm met his. Normal skin to normal skin. What had I expected? Oh yeah, claws and fur. I forced myself to meet his eyes and smile. Ms. Custer would be so proud of my impeccable manners. He smiled back with a toothy, still-scary grin.

But his eyes dropped to gaze at the amber jewel, which I hadn't been able to hide yet. His eyes lingered there. My father's gift attracted a constant stream of attention wherever I went.

A crash among the heaving bodies in the field drew his attention away. Relieved, I watched him lope back into the thick of bodies to attend to whatever mess the wolves and horses had created.

For the first time I recognized men among the animals. Men, dressed in reddish bronze chainmail similar to mine, who glowed a dull gold. Not the bright, blinding gold of Joshua or Brody, but a muted, angelic aura.

"What is this place, Sigrun?" Concern and unease stirred in my gut. "And what is this 'Ulfr' army?"

Sigrun had forgotten me in her silent adoration of Fenrir. She blinked, as if coming out a dream, and turned to me. "Oh, yes. The Ulfr are the wolves of Valhalla. They are the mounts of the Valkyries."

"But I thought Valkyries rode horses."

"A common Western misconception. We never ride Midgard horses, and only the highest ranked Valkyries are ever allowed the use of the Sleipnir." She nodded at the eight-legged horses prancing and dancing around the field. "They are the mounts of Odin. And gifted to the best of the Valkyrie Army. Most Valkyries travel with their Ulfr, but it is seen as far more acceptable for beautiful winged women to ride powerful horses than mangy wolves. Hence the modern perception." The anger in her voice was clear. It appeared that the modern telling of the ancient Norse legends did not sit well here in Asgard.

"Then why doesn't someone set them straight?" I asked. "Appear on a wolf and let the world know they are wrong."

Sigrun opened her mouth to answer, but a deeper voice spoke first. "Because Odin does not believe it is necessary to pander to the modern cultural need for beauty and acceptability," said Fenrir as he returned to the fence.

I sucked in a harsh breath. Looking up at him, I now knew why Sigrun was half in love with this man-beast. He approached us, his furred pelt and snout gone. Replaced by long dark hair that tugged at my tummy with its painful resemblance to Aidan's beautiful curls. He had the looks of a dark Adonis, only his eyes were a steel grey. A grey that matched, strangely enough, the beautiful metallic grey of Sigrun's feathers.

Fenrir was Asgard's answer to the werewolf.



One of the men marched over, eyes gleaming as his shoulders heaved beneath glittering mail. His skin shimmered as if the low flame of a candle flickered inside him. Spattered with mud, and marked with purpling bruises, he strode toward us, his brow furrowed in frustration. He gave us a nod, then pulled Fenrir aside to have what seemed like a fairly heated discussion.

I tapped Sigrun's elbow to get her attention. "And him? What is he? Why does he have that glow?"

I hadn't yet discussed my visions with Sigrun. Hadn't yet been confident enough to bare my fears and worries to my new friend. Even in a city that shouldn't exist, even when a pair of wings grew out of my back and even when I'd just been eyeball to eyeball with a real live wolf-man, what guarantee did I have that I wasn't imagining it all or going completely off my rocker?

She turned and looked at me. "Have you seen the aura before?"

My throat closed and all I could do was nod.

"When did it begin?" she asked, eagerness bright on her face.

"Ever since I was a little girl, actually. But it changed recently." When she waited in silence, I continued. "I started seeing the auras of people who ended up dead." The bleakness in my voice pretty much matched the way my heart felt when I thought of my inability to help those poor people.

"Then you are ready," she said firmly.

"Ready for what?"

"Ready for Retrieval," she replied.

I was getting impatient. All this cryptic implication annoyed the hell out of me. "Sigrun, can you just be straight with me, please. What is this glow? What does it mean? And what in heaven's name is Retrieval?"

She grinned and said, "The aura is only seen in a true Warrior. A Warrior worthy of the halls of Valhalla. A Warrior worthy of fighting for Odin. A Valkyrie looks for the people who glow and collects those people after they die. That is Retrieval."

"Oh yes, I remember. Valkyries collect the dead. . . ." I trailed off as I turned the facts over in my head. "But there were girls as well. I thought Valkyries collected only the bodies of great Warriors."