Shadow Empress (Night Elves Trilogy Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  I forced myself to tear my gaze away, only to see something even worse. Barthol stood in the shadows just next to Hela’s throne. Dressed in his favorite cave bear jacket, he looked even bigger than I remembered. His eyes were fixed on Hela, but instead of a look of resolute anger, all I could see was an expression of blissful rapture spread across his face. I wanted to throw up.

  Hela spoke then, her voice a sharp hiss over the crowd. “Are we ready?”

  Below me, the shades cheered—a terrifying sound like a thousand cave bears sharpening their claws. The hair on the back of my neck rose with fear.

  “Now,” said Hela, “I am going to free my people.”

  And this was why Galin had brought her Surtr’s sword. She picked it up from the floor. As she raised it above her head, flames began to lick along the blade.

  “I have the sword of the fire giants,” she shouted. “I will use it to carve through the iron wall. I will create a new gate. Not an entrance, but an exit from this vile place. We will travel into the realms of the living.”

  The shades cheered again.

  “I will rule each of the nine worlds, a goddess among the dead! We will be free!”

  Then, holding the sword above her head like a talisman, she jumped down from her throne. Around her swarmed the shades in a vortex of spectral darkness. At her heels strode Galin and Barthol.

  An idea began to take root, as it became clear that she had total control over both of them.

  Maybe this hadn’t been Galin’s choice. What did I believe? Did I believe that he truly loved me—without the mating bond? Without the fairy wine?

  The thoughts twisted wildly in my mind. The only thing I knew for sure was that Hela was my enemy. And she would not be easy to take down.

  I watched as they walked, a grim procession.

  I thought at first that they were going to cross out through the main passage. But partway across the room, Hela stopped and turned to face the wall.

  Lowering Surtr’s sword to her side, she raised her free hand. Her fingers twitched like the legs of a dying insect as she scribed a rapid series of runes. In front of her the stones of the wall began to shiver and tremble, then with a sharp report, they cracked open, revealing a new passage. Immediately she strode inside with Barthol, Galin, and the shades piling in behind.

  I watched all this holding my breath. When the last shade crossed into the passage, I saw the rocks begin to shimmer.

  And that was my cue to leap out from my hiding spot, to sprint across the broken flagstones. I slipped into the passage just as the door closed behind me with a resounding thunk.

  Shadows filled the tunnel, and dark alcoves and crevices. That meant I could move behind Hela’s party undetected.

  I hurried along behind them, slipping between shadowy nooks for what seemed like hours. Finally, the passage sloped upwards. A cold breeze brought with it the wet scent of decay.

  We were close to the muddy plains of Hel.

  Hela and the shades slipped out of the tunnel through a wide opening. I crept up as close as I dared, and peered out. The tunnel opened onto a low hillside—muddy and wet, with misting rain filling the air.

  A hundred yards off, I saw the dark shape of the iron wall of Hel. Dripping with a rusty trickle of water, it looked just as cold and unpleasant as I remembered.

  At the base of the wall stood the goddess, my brother, and Galin. And around them, thousands of shades, each transfixed by their queen.

  A light blazed in the semi-darkness. Hela had raised Surtr’s sword above her head again, and it cast warm light in the gloom, burning with a preternatural fire. She was shouting, but I was too far away to hear the words distinctly. The sword blazed brighter, and she turned to face the wall.

  She was about to carve through it, and somehow I had to stop her.

  “Skalei.”

  A dagger. That was all I had. As the blade appeared in my hand, I leapt up and hurled it at the goddess. It arced through the air, slicing through the drizzle like an arrow. Just like Swegde had taught me. A wet thunk sounded across the muddy field as it struck the goddess in the back.

  Hela shrieked, dropping the sword. She staggered, clutching for the hilt that now protruded between her shoulder blades.

  I didn’t stay to watch. Instead I raced down the hillside, my eyes fixed on Surtr’s sword where it lay steaming in the mud.

  As Hela screamed, pandemonium reigned. The shades flew about like angry bees unsure who’d disturbed their hive. My brother stood only a few feet from the goddess, his mouth half open.

  I’d have asked him to help, but clearly he would not.

  I dodged between shades, closing the gap. Thirty, twenty, ten, I was five feet from the blade, when a heavy body slammed into my side, throwing me to the mud. I tried to scramble up, but a massive hand held me down in the muck.

  Galin stared at me, eyes dark as night. He pinned me down, holding me in an iron grip, one hand on each of my wrists, a knee on my stomach.

  I stared up at him. Did I believe that he loved me, despite everything? Despite taking the sword, the note he’d left, despite the fact that he appeared to be thwarting my attempts down here?

  When I looked into his eyes, I felt it again. Our souls twining. Underneath it all—yes, I did think he loved me.

  This was Hela’s work.

  And even if I had to try to kick the shit out of him right now, I would save him from her too.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Surtr’s sword, only a few feet away. So close.

  I headbutted Galin, smashing my forehead into his nose, but his grip didn’t let up. Snarling, I brought my knee up into his crotch—for which I would apologize when I got him out of here. At last, I was able to shove him off me, and I scrambled up. Now there was nothing left except the sword …

  She was there in a flash. Hela stood over me, holding Skalei to my throat. Pure rage contorted her otherwise beautiful face, and a thin trickle of blood ran from the side of her mouth to her chin.

  She twirled the blade. “Is this yours?”

  I tried to call for it, but all that came out of my mouth was a guttural grunting sound. Hela had taken control of my tongue.

  She held Skalei above my head. “This is a very nice dagger.”

  I waited for her to slash downwards, to kill me and be done with it, but instead she turned the blade over in her hands. “I haven’t seen a blade like this in a thousand years. Very rare. Very valuable.”

  I wanted to scream at her, to call Skalei to me, but my tongue wouldn’t move.

  “Very valuable. Which is why it’s so unfortunate that I have to destroy it.”

  Pure panic rolled over me as Hela adjusted her grip on Skalei. Her shadow magic slipped over it, twisting the blade beyond recognition. It flexed, then shattered with a sharp crack.

  But I hardly noticed, because a white-hot pain lanced down my arm as the silver tattoos that bound Skalei to me blazed with magic.

  A storm of pain engulfed my mind.

  Chapter 39

  Galin

  I felt as shattered as Ali’s blade. Desperately, I wanted to get her out of here, but sharp vines of icy magic spread through my body, keeping me under Hela’s control.

  With Ali vanquished, Hela seemed to grow in strength. Blood dripped from her lips, and a rapturous smile spread across her face. Her pearlescent skin was practically glowing, and her indigo tattoos grew more bright. The Goddess of the Dead was ready to become the Goddess of the Nine Worlds. She’d rule both sun and rain, darkness and light, life and death. With only a sea of the draugr around her.

  In moments she would use Surtr’s sword to carve her way out of Hel. Free from the iron walls, she’d rule the nine realms as the only living god.

  There would be no check on this Hela; she would never be controlled, never vanquished.

  “King Galin, it is time you joined me at my side.” Her voice was a ringing bell in my mind, one I could not ignore.

  The goddess knelt to pick up
the sword. This time when she raised it, she didn't brandish it above her head for the adulation of the shades. She simply leveled the blade at the iron wall. Surtr’s sword began to glow, brighter and brighter. Hela became a silhouette, a wavering shadow behind incandescent light, then the blade blazed so brightly I couldn’t see her at all.

  Hela’s magic encased my mind like a gate of darkness, iron walls within my skull.

  When I’d been trapped before, I’d used portals. Love was the way to travel through walls, to transport to another place. I thought of Ali’s eyes as she looked up at me, the feeling of my soul entwining with hers—even if it wasn’t meant to be.

  Love warmed me from within, melting the ice of Hela’s magic.

  I could move again, move my hands …

  I started to run for Hela, but a blast of hot magic knocked me back again. A tremendous report rent the air, the tearing of ancient magic. Then, the air filled with primal screams of joy as the shades realized what had happened. The light of the sword faded.

  My heart was ready to wither in my chest. I’d meant to free her—but only after we’d trapped the draugr. This was a disaster.

  A vast crack marred the iron wall. Hela stood beaming, molten metal glowing at her feet, as hundreds and hundreds of shades streamed past and into the nine worlds.

  Why? I wanted to scream at her. Why did you do this?

  But I couldn't speak. My throat was as dry, as parched, as broken as always.

  So I could only watch when she walked towards me, hands raised. I could not kill a goddess—not without Loki’s wand, not without my voice.

  “I have freed my people. There is nothing here for me,” her voice rasped. “It is bleak. It is dark. It is full of souls, but it has no life. The gods are dead. It is only right that a goddess should rule the nine worlds. The elves will die. The giants, too. Some now, some tomorrow. But other things will live. That’s the brilliance of my plan. When their corporeal bodies perish, they won’t have to live in Hel. They can stay exactly where they fell. In Midgard, Vanaheim—don’t you see? I am saving the world.”

  Every kingdom will become a kingdom of death! I screamed in my mind.

  Hela beamed. “It is time that I reacquainted my shades with their bodies. They should not be left mouldering in the dirt.”

  She plucked Levateinn from her belt, and turned again to face the jagged hole in the wall.

  Chapter 40

  Ali

  The heat from Surtr’s sword had been so intense that my only option had been to press myself into the mud, cover my head with my hands, and hope I wasn’t burnt to a crisp.

  The good news was that I was unharmed. The bad news was that the heat of the blade had hardened Hel’s black mud into a brick-like crust. Now I was trapped, stuck like a bug in flypaper, barely able to breathe, and not able to see anything other than the grime and dirt in front of my face.

  This was disastrous, and panic slid through my veins. Hela would destroy the nine realms.

  Strong hands grabbed me under the shoulders and tore me free. Even as I gulped down air, terrible pain twisted around my wrists and forearms. The severed runes of Skalei’s binding spell burned with preternatural fire, and a deep agony filled my heart as I thought of what Hela had done to my blade.

  I might have given up then, but I saw Galin’s face. His eyes shone even in the darkness of Hel, the mesmerized look gone. He was back.

  I knew then that I’d been right—even if he couldn’t speak to say what he felt, I could see it in his eyes.

  He took one of my hands and pressed it to his bare chest. As the shadowy vapors circled my fingers, I felt his warm skin, his heart beating, thrumming within him.

  My eyes widened. There was more than that churning under the surface: I could feel his emotions, his feelings, his desires. He continued to look at me, his eyes demanding my attention.

  He pointed at Hela. She’d turned from us again, and I saw silver shimmering in the darkness. She held Levateinn, Loki’s wand. Whatever she was going to do with it, it couldn't be good. I stared, watching the shades pour through the hole in the wall. There was no sign of Barthol.

  Then, Galin pointed at the dried mud, where he’d scratched a symbol, roughly the shape of a circle. And next to it, a word: Asgard. His eyes fixed on mine as he pressed my hand harder against his chest. I could feel his heart, deep and strong, booming like a cannon behind his ribs.

  He wasn't scared. He wasn't calm either. He was steadfast, brave, and filled with love.

  We were supposed to portal to Asgard. I didn’t know why, or what the plan was.

  I only knew that I trusted him more than anything.

  He pulled me in close. My heart might have been beating wildly, but as I began to scribe a portal rune I felt completely, utterly safe.

  Chapter 41

  Galin

  I allowed my emotions to pour into Ali’s, strengthening and fortifying her magic. As our powers mixed, relief flooded me, and a sense of peace. Somehow I knew that whatever happened next, it’d be okay.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hela scribing the final runes—the ones that brought back life. It was the very spell I’d used to bring her back from the dead. In a moment, she’d reanimate all the shades that had just entered Vanaheim and Midgard. Thousands of living corpses, each one a draugr ready to feed on any living human or elf that remained.

  But I would stop her. Odin had shown me the way in Mimisbrunnr.

  Hela was almost finished, only a few runes left before the spell would be complete. Likewise, I sensed that Ali was full of our magic, her spell ready—just a single rune remained. Timing would be crucial.

  Hela’s wand twitched—three, two, one. She scribed the last rune. A momentary pause.

  I grabbed Ali’s hand.

  Shimmering magic sprang from Hela’s wand, a silver streak, racing towards the hole in the wall.

  Now! I jerked Ali’s arm down. Together we completed the final rune. An electric pop crackled in the air, and a massive portal filled the hole in the wall. Hela’s spell slammed into it— then passed through.

  Into Asgard.

  The air shimmered for a second, then the portal vanished. For a long moment, nothing moved but the falling rain. Ali leaned against me, spent from the magic.

  Hela’s voice was like a curse in my mind. What have you done?

  She spun towards Ali and me. There was no sign of the wand, only Surtr’s sword blazing in her grasp. I threw Ali out of the goddess’s path, then shadow jumped towards Hela.

  I was unarmed, and going up against an immortal goddess. There was no way I could win. But I didn’t need to win. I just needed to stall her.

  The sword’s fire blazed towards me. Hela’s voice cut like a knife. “You cannot defeat me.”

  I ignored her, shadow jumping to her side. Before she could swing the blade, I punched her as hard as I could in the side of the head.

  As she staggered, I grabbed for the sword. But already, she’d regained her footing. She threw me down, the force impossibly powerful. I slammed backward into the caked mud.

  In the next moment, her foot was on my throat, pressing down. She pointed the sword at Ali.

  “Now watch as you lose everything,” she murmured.

  The sword began to glow. Ali tried to run, but she was far too slow. I summoned the dark magic that filled my body, then shadow jumped again. I smashed into Ali, throwing her out of the path of the arc of fire. I leapt up again and whirled to face the goddess.

  Hela stalked towards us. “I seem to have discovered your weakness, King Galin,” she hissed. “Do you want to die first, or second?” She raised the sword, and fire licked along the blade.

  But a distant tremor, like the aftershock of an earthquake, shook the hardened mud under my feet.

  Hela stiffened, her eyes suddenly widening. Her expression was no longer triumphant. “What have you done?” She stalked towards me, pointing the flaming sword at my chest.

  Then, her gaze dipp
ed to the word I’d written in the dried mud. Asgard.

  “No …” she snarled.

  Electricity flashed, and a portal snapped open. Instantly, a silver lightning bolt shot through the air, striking Hela in the center of the chest.

  A god dressed in chainmail strode through the portal, his body glowing. He gripped an enormous hammer.

  “What in Odin’s name is going on here?” he bellowed, and his voice rumbled over the landscape.

  Hela’s dress was now singed, smoke rising from it. “Thor.” She spat his name like a curse.

  As I heard his name, joy rippled through me. Odin’s plan had worked. With Ali’s help, we’d sent Hela’s spell into Asgard. Instead of reviving elves and humans, she’d breathed new life into dead gods.

  Even as I felt profound relief, pandemonium erupted around us. More and more portals appeared. Enormous men and women entered Hel.

  The beautiful Freyja with golden hair, Tyr with his missing arm. A lithe hooded god—Loki. Odin, with his single sapphire eye.

  The gods and goddess gathered round us, towering over Hela.

  Odin’s gaze swung to Ali and me. I saw now the full planes of his face, wrinkled and lined, the black eye patch covering his missing eye. The cost of a knowledge we both now bore. “Who are these two?” Then, his single eye narrowed. “You are the ones who freed us?”

  Ali stood, dusting herself off. “I’m Ali, Empress of the Elves. I made a portal into Asgard, so Hela’s magic would raise you.” She glanced at me. “This is Galin, the world’s greatest sorcerer.”

  Odin frowned. “He can’t speak for himself?”

  Ali cleared her throat. “He traded his voice—his magic—for knowledge in Mimisbrunnr’s water.”

  “Ahhh …” Odin’s eye gleamed as he took me in. “Of course. I remember.”