Dead Wrath (A Valkyrie Novel - Book 4)(4)

I set out in the opposite direction down the hallway. With Sarah and her husband taken care of, I now had other things to worry about.

Namely, the impending war that dogged our every step.





CHAPTER THREE



Back in the war room, I hung my cloak on one of the row of hooks beside the door, then crouched to light the fire in the hearth. Amazing that this simple act was something I'd never done before until I arrived in Asgard. A city without electricity, without technology, but otherwise filled with everything we needed for a fulfilling life. All of that would soon be taken away from us if we didn't find a way to stop Loki.

With the fire flaring up and flames licking at the newly stacked woodpile, I was already feeling warmer. I turned my attention to the table to pore over the reports brought back by many of the scout teams, trying to find a connection between what they were saying was happening and what the prophecy predicted. So far it all looked like a big old mess to my eyes.

Adjusting the straps of the holster holding Odin's spear, I considered removing it, then thought better of it. The last thing I needed was to lose the damned spear. I should be thankful at least that the magic of the weapon allowed the solid length of gold to collapse into a piece short enough to fit comfortably at my back.

I was rubbing my head, mussing my neatly plaited hair in the process, and trying to ignore the rumble in my stomach when I heard someone enter the room again. Annoyed, I snapped my wary gaze to the visitor whose boots barely made a sound on the stone floor. Only the soft clink of his chainmail and the almost silent brush of leather on leather, sword sheath against leather pants, broke the silence.

Fen strolled in, his unhurried gait no indicator of his mood. He looked troubled, his forehead furrowed, his eyes dark, his shoulders hunched and tight.

"What's wrong?" I asked, curious why he'd come to me looking like he had the worries of all nine realms on his shoulders. The person with that particular burden was me.

"Nothing I cannot handle. Just the influx of new soldiers from the other realms have been a mission in itself to get them practicing and preparing." He sounded impatient and more than a little frustrated.

I grinned, amused. "The other realms not as efficient at the art of war as Asgardians?" I asked as he came toward me and took a seat on one of the high-backed wooden chairs that surrounded the aged oak table.

He snorted, tipping his head up to look at me, causing his unruly shoulder-length hair to sway back and forth. "Exactly. Most of them are a bunch of unruly misfits." His voice held a trace of disdain. Fen had little patience for soldiers who didn't perform to his exacting standards.

"Misfits that we will be needing sooner or later," I responded, suppressing a chuckle. I'd seen the regiments that had poured into Asgard since the horn had been blown. Not only had the gods returned, but they'd brought with them their own armies. If you could call them armies. Most of them looked like a bunch of ragtag ruffians, but I wasn't about to voice my opinion. Fen didn't need any support in that department.

Now the Ulfr general sighed. "Yes. I am fully aware of how much we need them. Although, I think our time is better spent focusing our resources on Midgard."

I nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking." I glanced at the stack of reports at my elbow. "Every one of these reports makes me more and more concerned with Loki's activities in Midgard. We need more boots on the ground to try and unravel what he is planning."

"The problem is, where do we start?" asked Fen, rubbing his chin. The movement made a sharp grazing sound against his bristly beard. "Maybe we should check with Odin before making any definitive plans."

"Odin's here?" I asked, feeling the anticipation rise within me. I'd been waiting for him to show up again. I had to admit I missed the old guy.

Fen grinned at me and for a second I saw the wolf in him. I bit back a smile at the memory of my first reaction to seeing his face, all wolf-like. I hadn't actually been swooning at the sight of Ulfr Fen. Human-form Fen was a totally other story.

Now I waved at him and hurried out the door, heading straight for Odin's Hall. When I entered, it was already occupied by the All-Father himself. He lifted his gaze to me the moment I hesitated on the threshold.

"Come, Brynhildr. What are you waiting for?" He beckoned, raising one eyebrow. He sat on the intricately carved stone throne, the back of which rose at least eighteen feet in the air. Viking designs snaked their way across the armrests and the legs, giving the seat an almost living quality.

I hurried across the marble tiles, weaving past the six thick, fat pillars that dotted the gigantic hall. They too were carved with serpentine, hypnotic patterns, strange creatures, and branchlike designs. I'd gotten so used to the majestic nature of the hall that I no longer noticed them very much.

I reached the stone dais and stared up at Odin, who shimmered in an invisible breeze. A twelve-foot-tall giant of a god didn't look very imposing when the image of him wavered as if about to disappear into nothing. It made him seem far too fragile for my liking. Today, he was dressed in his fighting best, gold armor and flaming helmet. He beckoned for me to come forward, and I climbed up the dais, moving as close as possible without showing disrespect.

I stood there for a moment, just staring at him, gaping like a fool. "I'm glad you came," I blurted out before the silence threatened to become uncomfortable. What did a girl say to a man who had just claimed her as his child? And what did a girl say to a god who did the same thing? I was in over my head and I knew it.

He gave me an indulgent smile, reminding me he'd always had a soft spot for me and had never bothered to hide it. "I came to see that you are well. I have little strength left so it will be a while before I'm strong enough to return." His voice wavered too, sounding tinny, as if coming through on a bad telephone line.

My heart sank at the words. "Then you shouldn't have risked it. Not when you are so weak," I admonished him, as if he was a mere man instead of the All-Father.

He merely chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "But my child, the other gods need guidance, my followers need encouragement. That I cannot do when I am of no substance." When he stopped speaking, I wasn't sure what to say. Then he said, "And of course you, Brynhildr. You more than most need me now, at a time when I am unable to be of much comfort to you."

I shook my head. "I don't--I mean, I do need you, but I don't need you to kill yourself in the process." I almost folded my arms in annoyance but just managed to stop myself in time.

"So melodramatic, my child," said Odin with a bark of laughter. "I know you struggle with the responsibility and I thought you might need to talk about it."

I frowned, then stepped closer to the god. This was my chance. "Take it away. I don't want it. Surely there's someone else more worthy to take up the task?" I asked, facing his kind eyes down with my own stony emerald ones.

"But, my dear Brynhildr. You must know you are the only choice that makes sense. You are the only one who will truly have the interests of Odin and of Asgard itself at heart. Too many people can be swayed by their own personal desires, but you, my dear, have proven that nothing can make you change your mind once you have it set."

I merely nodded. He was right. I was as stubborn as it gets.

"This is the reason I chose you. Not because you are my child, but because of your strength and your tenacity. You will not let anything change your course. So set your sights on saving the nine realms and we will all rest easy knowing you have it under control."

I shook my head, the fingers of both my hands curling into fists. "But can't you see I don't have it under control? Nothing makes much sense at the moment." I sighed softly and looked away from Odin's penetrating gaze. Even with one eye, a mere look could reduce a giant to a sniveling fool.

But he wasn't listening to my doubt. He shook his head and said, "It will make sense in time. All you need is patience and smarts. And you have much of both." He gave a loud laugh that reverberated around the hall.

I sighed, figuring I had to accept his words or continue this argument until, in the end, I would have to give in anyway. "I wish you would just tell us where you are so we can find a way to come and get you," I snapped, suddenly impatient with godly games and manipulations.

He tilted his head and looked at me sadly. "Perhaps I would if I knew you would still concentrate on the war at hand. But I know you too well, Brynhildr. You are much like Thor and Vidarr, and even Loki in some ways."

I shuddered at that thought. Vidarr I suppose I could handle, but not Loki. I never wanted to be in any way like Loki. But I hid my feelings, not wanting to upset Odin when I knew how much energy he must be using just to project himself here.

Odin chuckled. "Ah, see. No answer to that, eh, girl?" He laughed and his familiarity with me made me want to cry.

It also made me all the more impatient to find a way to get him home safely. "So when will you tell us where you are?" I asked, my gaze narrowing on him.

"I won't." He spoke the words so softly and so matter-of-fact that I almost didn't register them.

I stiffened when his meaning sank in. "What do you mean?" I asked, my tone a little too high to be respectful, but I couldn't help it. When I blinked at the sudden heat in my eyes, I saw he'd reduced to human size.