by Kate O'Hearn
“No, he’s waiting until we get deeper into the keep, where we stand no chance of escaping,” Orus cawed softly.
“There’s no escape for us anyway,” Freya said. “I can’t fly.”
“But he doesn’t know that,” Orus finished.
Freya nodded. “Forget him. We must find Vanir-Freyja and Skuld. I can feel them; they’re beneath us in the dungeons.”
Freya’s senses picked up on at least four Dark Searchers entering the stairwell from above. The sound of thudding feet storming down the stairs confirmed her senses.
“They’re coming for us—run!” Archie cried, but in the tight confines of the round tower stairs, they were trapped with nowhere to go but down.
Freya forced her aching body to move. Each step was like a hammer pounding on her tender skin as her damaged wings rubbed against her blistered back.
“Faster, Gee,” Archie called. He ran past her and caught her by the hand, dragging her along.
At the bottom of the steps they faced a large, closed door. Archie grasped the handle and cried as the metal burned his palm. He pulled his sleeve down over his other hand and grasped the door handle again. It gave without resistance, and they ran through it into a dark corridor.
With the pursuers close behind them, Freya looked around, working out what to do next. She could feel that Vanir-Freyja wasn’t on this level, but she sensed an older presence to her left. “Skuld is here—come on!”
They ran down the dark corridor and straight into two large, imposing Dark Searchers. They turned to run back, but the Dark Searchers from the tower stairs were waiting for them.
They were trapped!
Freya and Archie stood back-to-back, holding their swords high.
“Does the foolish Valkyrie really believe she can fight her way out of this?”
The Dark Searchers from the tower steps parted and a Dark Elf walked between them, wearing a forest-green cape and a mask. As it approached, it removed its mask, revealing a green, pinched elfin face and elliptical black eyes.
“You!” Freya gasped. It was the same female Dark Elf who had exposed them in Utgard. If it hadn’t been for her, they would have escaped the city with no one knowing about it.
“Oh, I see the Valkyrie remembers me,” the Dark Elf said. Her eyes narrowed and focused on Archie. “At least the dead human has stopped pretending to be an elf.”
“So you’ve joined Dirian,” Freya challenged, holding up her golden sword.
The Dark Elf shook her head. “Foolish Valkyrie—I have been with him all along. Dirian is the one true leader of all the realms. He will see us into a new and glorious age—seated on Odin’s throne.”
“He’s starting Ragnarök,” Freya challenged. “If you can’t see that, you’re as demented as he is!”
The Dark Elf screeched and tried to run at her. But the hand of a Dark Searcher shot out and caught her by the shoulder. He shook his head.
The Dark Elf struggled for a moment and then became still. “You’re right,” she said. “This one belongs to Dirian. It is not my right to seek pleasure in her pain.” She focused on Freya again. “When Dirian is through with you, you will wish you’d never been born.” She motioned to the other Searchers. “Take their weapons and put them in the cells.”
Freya looked around and assessed the situation. She and Archie were completely surrounded. They could fight, but it wouldn’t last long and would end with them hurt or killed. It wouldn’t give Quinn or Skye the time they needed to get to Vanir-Freyja.
Freya put down her sword and looked over at Archie. “Drop your sword.”
“But we can fight them!” Archie swung his weapon at one of the Searchers.
Freya reached out to grab his arm. “Not now,” she insisted, hoping he would understand.
Archie looked at her and held her eyes for several heartbeats. Finally he nodded and surrendered his weapon. She could see the message in his eyes saying he hoped she had a plan.
When the Dark Searchers came forward and seized them roughly by the arms, she hoped she had a plan as well.
* * *
The first thing the Dark Searchers did was separate them. Orus cawed and bit into the Searcher that tried to take him from Freya. He finally launched into the air, flew down the dungeon corridor, and disappeared around the corner.
“I’ll get him,” the Dark Elf called. She shot a cruel look at Freya. “I may not be allowed to hurt you or the dead human, but I have no such orders for the bird. I’m feeling particularly hungry for roast raven!” She cackled with laughter and took off in a run after the raven.
“Go, Orus!” Freya shouted. “Get out of here. Don’t let her catch you!”
“Fly, Orus!” Archie called. “Keep going!”
The Dark Searcher holding Freya shook her into silence. But Freya looked defiantly up into his visor. “He’s fast. She won’t get him. You’ll see. He’ll get away from you!”
Deadly silent, the Dark Searchers dragged Freya in one direction while Archie was taken in the opposite. At the end of the corridor, she was shoved into a dark cell. It was almost identical to the one at the keep in Utgard. There were no windows and nothing to sit on but the red stone floor.
The walls and door were newer, but the feelings of dread they instilled were the same. Freya stood at the door, waiting for Dirian. He would come. She knew he would. And when he did, she would face the end with dignity.
After a time she gave up waiting, walked to the corner of the small cell, and lay down. The drug Skye had given her was wearing off, and the pain from her burns was back. With nothing left to do but wait for the end, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
It felt as if she had only just dozed off when she heard a key entering the lock. Freya rose and watched the cell door swing open. Standing at the entrance was a Dark Searcher and a troll.
“Come, come,” the troll ordered, wagging a crooked finger at her. He was small, round, and gray. Freya couldn’t tell whether this was his natural color, or dirt. More than likely dirt, she decided, when she took in his tattered, smelly rags.
The troll could barely walk, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Freya felt pure evil emanating from him. He stumbled forward and caught her by the arm. “Don’t keep the master waiting.” Freya had to muffle her nose with her hand to stifle his vile smell.
She snatched her arm from his grip. “If Dirian wants to see me, he can come down here and get me himself!”
The troll squeaked his displeasure and punched her in the midsection, knocking her back and slamming her against the wall. Freya cried out as her damaged wings pressed against her burnt back.
Trolls may be small, but she quickly discovered they packed a vicious punch. Freya righted herself and kicked the troll across the cell. The foul creature squealed as he hit the opposite wall.
“You touch me again and I’ll break your arm!” she warned. Freya turned on the Dark Searcher. “Well, what about you?”
He stood staring at the troll. Eventually he drew one of his black swords. “Move . . . ,” he rasped with his broken voice. “I cannot kill you, but I have no orders not to harm you. I will if you don’t come.”
Freya stood defiantly before the Dark Searcher. The troll had climbed to his feet and took this opportunity to charge at her again. But Freya was too quick for him. She turned her back and struck out with her right wing, smacking him hard in the face. The troll smashed against the wall a second time and fell to the ground, unconscious. Freya sneered at him. “I’ve never liked trolls!”
“Valkyrie!” the Dark Searcher commanded. He loomed above her with his imposing height. “I am no troll,” he said. “You would be wise not to try that with me.”
“No, you’re a Dark Searcher—and I don’t care for them either!” Freya was baiting him. It was dangerous, but at this point she had little to lose.
The Dark Searcher balled his hand into a fist but held it back. “Do not try my patience. I will hurt you.”
As Freya
stood before him, weaponless and wounded, there was no way she could hope to fight and win. She walked toward the door.
Two Dark Searchers, a dwarf, and a male Dark Elf stood waiting for her in the corridor, ready to escort her further. She sensed they’d been testing her, to see how much she would resist. She looked at the Dark Elf. “Sorry to disappoint you. Looks as if you won’t be the one to kill me today.”
“The day is yet young,” the masked elf said lightly, “and I remain hopeful.”
As they walked toward the tower steps, Freya stole a look back to see if Archie was being brought with them. He wasn’t.
Making it up to the ground floor, Freya looked around. Again, it looked similar to the old keep in Utgard, but somehow it was even darker, as though the evil from the occupants was driving away any light. Their steps echoed as they walked through the wide, empty corridors. They entered a chamber where the ceiling high above their heads gave the large, desolate room a lonely, cavernous feeling.
In the center of the chamber was a long rectangular table with scrolls sprawled across it. Around the table were a few stools. As they walked past the table, Freya saw the papers were maps of the realms and diagrams showing the giants’ military movements.
Freya immediately recognized this as a war room. It was here that Dirian was conducting his fight against Odin. There had been no attempt to hide anything from her eyes.
As she tried to get a closer look at the maps, a sound of rattling broke her concentration. She turned as another Dark Elf and a troll came toward her, holding a metal collar and a chain lead.
“If you think you’re putting that on me, you’d better think again,” she warned the elf. Freya instinctively took a step back, but the Dark Searcher standing behind her blocked her retreat.
The Dark Elf laughed, exposing his tiny, pointed teeth. “Oh, please do try to stop me. I would love to take on a Valkyrie. I’ve heard of your fighting skills, Freya, but never witnessed them personally.”
“Come closer and I’ll show you.”
That comment only made the elf laugh harder.
“Enough!”
Freya’s heart sank. She knew that broken voice all too well. It was the voice that haunted her nightmares and made her wake in the night covered in a film of sweat. Every nerve in her body told her not to move—to simply close her eyes and await the end. But she couldn’t obey. She turned and saw Dirian striding into the chamber.
The Dark Searcher was as terrifying as always. He was wearing his helmet and full armor, with his two black swords strapped to his sides. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel him, could feel his hatred mixed with joy at having her as his prisoner . . . but worst of all was his anticipation. It was all there, offered for her to feel. He held nothing back.
Dirian stood before her—unmoving and silent. Only the slight change in the pitch of his breathing revealed he wasn’t a statue.
“Well?” Freya managed. “Come on, get it over with. . . .”
Freya expected many things, but she never imagined she’d hear him laugh. His deep, fractured voice choked on his mirthless laughter as he stepped closer to her. His visor stopped mere inches away from her face.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Freya, but you will not die this day or any day in the near future. You are to be my special guest for a very, very long time. You alone will bear witness to the defeat of Odin. You will watch Asgard fall to my giants and see all the realms bow to me. You will be there as your Valkyrie sisters are enslaved and traded like coins. I promise you will see it all and will be helpless to stop any of it.”
“You’re insane!” Freya cried.
“I am only what you made me,” he replied. “Actually, I should thank you. Were it not for you, I would still be a slave to Odin—blindly serving his every whim. Now I know what it is to be truly free.” The large, imposing Dark Searcher slowly turned his back to her. “See how I have freed myself? Odin removed one of my wings. I chose to remove the other.”
Freya was horrified by the sight of his smooth, wingless, armored back. “Why would you do that?”
“It was what I chose!” he spat. “Now, to show my gratitude to you, I will share with you that same exhilarating freedom.”
Those words chilled Freya to the bone. She tried to deny their implication, but when Dirian ordered his men to grab her and pry open her wings, Freya realized the meaning was clear.
The tall Dark Searcher slowly drew one of his black blades. “Now, you can make this easy on yourself, or you can make it hard. The choice is yours—but have no illusion, I will take your wings.”
“No!” Freya cried, struggling in the Dark Searchers’ grip. “You can’t do this!”
Dirian took a step closer and rasped, “Good. You’re going to fight.”
He stepped back and pulled his second sword from its sheath. Dirian threw it onto the ground at her feet. “Release her. Let’s see if this Valkyrie has learned anything new.”
When the two Dark Searchers let her go, Freya snatched up the black sword and faced Dirian. Her eyes scanned the room wildly. Other Dark Searchers, elves, and dwarfs were filing in, blocking her only exit.
The choice was simple. Surrender to Dirian and let him cut off her wings. Or fight, knowing she stood no chance against him. But every moment she delayed, every second she had his full attention, gave the others time to get to Vanir-Freyja.
“Come on, then, Dirian,” she challenged bravely. “You want my wings? You’re going to have to take them!”
Freya moved first and lunged toward the demented Dark Searcher. But her burns slowed her movement. Dirian easily deflected her sword thrust.
“You can do better than that,” he teased.
She sensed his pleasure. He was toying with her, and they both knew it. But each moment bought more precious time for the others to arrive. She would give him the fight he wanted.
Dirian made two halfhearted swipes that Freya easily defended. She could sense he was holding back, not wanting to end the fight too soon. In anger, she launched her own attack, a fraction of a second faster than him. Her blade cut across his breastplate, slicing into his leather armor. It didn’t touch his skin, but it was enough to surprise him and make him jump back.
Immediately Dirian’s mood changed and the game ended. His swipes became more aggressive. While his blade moved in one direction, his free hand moved in the opposite and struck Freya across her burnt and blistered face with a blow that knocked her off her feet.
Freya opened her wings to slow the fall. The next thing she knew, Dirian’s blade flashed faster than she imagined possible. So fast that Freya didn’t feel the actual cuts—what she did feel was both her wings coming away from her body and falling to the floor beside her.
Moments later, pain arrived. Sharper than anything she’d felt before. So intense, it sucked the wind from her lungs, leaving her unable to breathe, let alone scream.
Freya was in too much pain to think. She tried to climb to her feet, but Dirian was there, pushing her back. When she hit the ground, he moved in for a final, bone-breaking kick that sent her flying across the room. She hit the wall, her senses overwhelmed. She welcomed the coming darkness and surrendered gladly to oblivion.
25
MAYA AND KAI RAN THROUGH the tunnel toward Muspelheim as fast as their legs would carry them. They had to catch up with Freya.
Soon they felt the realm slip from Midgard into Muspelheim and saw something ahead in the tunnel. As they moved closer, they made out the bodies of the five soldiers who had been reaped, slumped against the wall. They looked as if they were napping peacefully.
“What kind of person would ask to be reaped?” Kai said, studying the soldiers.
“The kind who are devoted to the service of their realm,” Maya answered. “They knew they couldn’t go on any farther, but they didn’t want to give up. It was an extreme but honorable decision.”
“Would you have reaped them?”
Maya considered for a momen
t and then nodded. “Considering what’s at stake, I would. I’m sure no one will condemn Freya or the soldiers for what they did.”
As they prepared to get moving again, they heard footsteps running toward them. A young soldier emerged from the darkness ahead.
“Can you see me?” he gasped, bending over to catch his breath.
“Yes,” Maya said. She immediately recognized him as one of the dead soldiers.
The young man stole a quick look at his body against the wall and then turned away. “I—I’m Private Cornish. I have an urgent message from Freya.”
“I’m her sister, and this is Kai, her twin brother,” Maya said. “What’s the message?”
Taking a couple more breaths, the young private started to speak. He passed on the message he’d been given from Quinn. He went on to explain Freya’s plan.
“Freya is handing herself over to Dirian!” Kai cried. “Is she crazy?”
The private shook his head. “She’s trying to keep him distracted long enough for the others to free Vanir-Freyja and Skuld.”
Kai’s eyes were wide and wild. “But he’ll kill her!”
“She knows that, but she went in there anyway. In the short time I’ve known your sister, I’ve discovered that she’s one selfless but very stubborn Valkyrie.”
“She’s an idiot if she thinks handing herself over to Dirian can help,” Kai said.
The soldier continued. “Quinn ordered me to get back to Earth to try to find your people to ask them to help us. If we can free Vanir-Freyja and Skuld, it will end the war and save Earth.”
“We’re on our way to Muspelheim now,” Maya finally said. “I won’t let Freya sacrifice herself. Not to him. But Quinn is right. Thor must be told.” She looked back down the tunnel to Earth. “Private, I need you to keep going. Get to Earth and, even though you will be a spirit, do what you can to find Thor and the others. Tell them what you just told us.”
The private nodded. “I should warn you, Muspelheim is hot and very dangerous. It’s essential that you don’t touch anything.” He held up his burnt palm. “Everything there burns at the touch. I picked a berry and this is what happened. Freya was caught in the rain and has burns all over her body. Quinn has made extra protective shoes out of the root of Yggdrasil. He has left them farther down the tunnel for you—put them on or your feet will burn to a crisp. And one other thing: The air is corrosive and will eventually destroy your feathers. So be as quick as you can.”
