Myths and Magic: An Epic Fantasy and Speculative Fiction Boxed Set

by K.N. Lee

The winged woman slugged him in the arm.

  “Ouch! I was only commenting.” Smiling, his gaze slid to the female. “You know my heart is your heart.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “You’ve got this, right, Fraya?”

  Fraya huffed out a sigh. “If I must.”

  She pursed her ruby red lips, her fiery gaze giving Kara a critical sweep.

  “That’s my girl.” The male leaned over and gave her cheek a gentle kiss. Then, he looked at Kara. “Good luck! And welcome back.”

  “Welcome back to where?” Kara pivoted in a circle again. She eyed the dancing flames. They didn’t seem to throw off any heat and covered the stones lining the floor and the wall. “Is this hell?”

  Freya laughed. She settled on the floor and folded her massive wings. “Not quite, my pet. This is the corridor to central command. And you, Agent Falko, are one of its commanders.”

  3

  Kara backed away from the gorgeous winged-woman.

  “No, no, no, no, no. We’re done here. I’m heading back to the hospital. I am not going to be a commander of hell. I’ve done good works in my life. I don’t deserve a fate like this.” Her hands shot out and she gestured in circles, indicating her surroundings. She craned her head, peering around the tall figure before her, to look down the hallway. The comforting image of her childhood home in the suburbs of Boston still beckoned. “There. That’s where I belong.”

  Fraya’s hands landed on her hips. Framed by the hellish flames dancing all around her, which bathed the stone walls in blood red and orange, her stance widened, making her look like Wonder Woman. The flames backlit her raven-colored hair, giving her a fiery halo. Her jaw stiffened.

  “You’re going to die. First, you’ll be a vegetable.” She stuck out her tongue and made a garbled sound, like an imbecile might make. “Then...” She raked her hand in front of her neck. “End of story.”

  “I’m what?” Kara said. “Big fat double-no to that.” She pictured the diamond ring on her finger...and Jaidon’s immanent sorrow at her death. He’ll be heartbroken. He’ll blame himself. This will wreck him.

  The woman nodded. “Afraid so. You got shot through the chest. You’re on life support in Sisters of Mercy hospital in Boston. Ringing any bells?”

  Kara assumed the same stance as the female facing her. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “No joke. I’m Fraya, by the way. Sorry we skipped over introductions.” She held out her hand.

  Kara studied the leather cuffs adorning Fraya’s wrists. Accented with gold dagger-looking things, they looked like they could be used as weapons. Then, she noticed the crossbow slung across Fraya’s back. Her eyes widened, and she took a step backward.

  Fraya jerked her hand impatiently. “This is where you take my hand in a show of greeting because you don’t think you know me. You say your name, add, ‘It’s a pleasure, Fraya’, and we shake. It’s a common Earth greeting.”

  Kara swallowed, then let her hand be enveloped in the warm strength of Fraya’s. “Kara Falko. I’m not sure if it’s a pleasure or not. And, I don’t know you. What are you, anyway? Some sort of weird angel?”

  Fraya threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, this is rich. You’re so not with the program. Not yet, anyway. You don’t even recognize me. We’ve worked together for years. Eons. We’re both, like, two-thousand-years-old.”

  Kara’s forehead furrowed. “I don’t think so. I’m twenty-eight.”

  “In Earth terms, yes.” Fraya inclined her head to the side, as if someone stood next to her. “My partner forgot his manners, too. He’s Bork...” She looked overhead and said in a louder voice, “Yes, it rhymes with Dork.” Her tone sounded lighter—playful, even.

  Kara blinked at the about face in this ancient seeming woman’s change in demeanor.

  The stone walls rumbled, and Fraya laughed. She turned her scorching eyes back to Kara. “He’s Bork Delling.” She cast her gaze toward the ceiling and spoke loudly. “Which means shining. Everything about him shines, even his big, gorgeous dick.”

  Flames surged from the walls. Kara’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t worry about Bork. He’s my Norse warrior-god, sex fiend, and love-monkey.”

  “Hey,” a disembodied male voice called out. “I’m no one’s monkey.”

  “Privacy, Bork. Give us some privacy.” Fraya smiled.

  “Stop calling me a monkey and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “You can never leave me alone. You live to seduce me.”

  The stone walls rumbled again, in a low purring vibration.

  “He lives in the walls?” Kara asked.

  “Bork?” Fraya’s eyebrows shot up. “Not even close. He lives with me. He’s merely throwing a few tricks around to show you what a bad-ass he is.” Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Isn’t that right, lover-man?” When no response came from the walls, she nodded. “He’s gone now. It’s just you and me.” She rested her hands along Kara’s shoulders and gazed into her eyes.

  For a moment, Kara said nothing.

  Fraya’s gaze made her stomach twist. It tugged at her insides. She imagined the woman reaching inside her heart and prying open a long-forgotten treasure chest, buried in her soul.

  Then, Fraya spun her in a 180, placing an arm around Kara’s shoulders. “Walk with me. I’ve got something to show you.”

  Kara stiffened, her feet refusing to move. “We’re not going through that door. That will mean I’m dead, and I’ve gone to hell.”

  “Oh, honey, laying in a coma on a hospital bed—now that’s hell. Don’t let your imagination get the best of you. We’re going somewhere cool.”

  Kara looked up at the strange woman, casting a skeptical gaze.

  As they approached the flaming door, Kara tried to slow her steps.

  The far too muscular arm around her shoulders tightened. “I’m not taking you to be executed.”

  “Where are you taking me, then?”

  “Wait for it,” Fraya said. She reached for the brass doorknob. “Ready?” She grinned.

  “What? No!” A sheen of sweat covered Kara’s neck and face. Her heart began a fast galloping beat, clattering against her ribs like hooves.

  As Fraya twisted the knob, Kara’s legs turned oatmeal soft. Her head began to wobble on her neck, like a pumpkin about to fall off a post.

  The winged-woman spun and grabbed her by her shoulders. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re not going to faint on me.” She slapped Kara’s face.

  Kara’s hand flew to her smarting skin. “Why’d you do that? It hurt.” Then, as if shook free, a vision of herself, dressed in some freakish armor, standing on a battlefield, quivered through her Jell-O-like brain.

  “That’s why.” Fraya gave Kara’s cheek a single, sharp pinch.

  The vision evaporated, replaced by bee-sting sized pain. Kara stroked her face.

  “You’re resisting your destiny. You and I—we’re Valkyries. You seem to have forgotten everything you once knew. And this Valkyrie is tired of waiting for you.” She stabbed her chest with her thumb. “I’m not going to coddle you the way Bork would. Or, try to seduce you,” she added with an if you try anything with him I’ll drive an ax through your chest kind of voice.

  She leapt behind Kara, preventing her escape. Then, she reached past her. She twisted the brass knob and threw open the massive iron door. Her hands landed on Kara’s shoulder-blades. And then, with the force of an entire battalion, she shoved Kara through the door.

  Kara fell to her hands and knees. The beautiful green garment she wore pooled around her wrists and knees. Positioned in a familiar “cat-cow” yoga pose—the kind she did on Tuesday nights at yoga class staring serenely at lotus blossoms on the wall—she gaped at a massacre in progress. Blades swung and heads fell. Cries of agony rang out, followed by the release of bodily fluids and gas as the spirits of the dead fluttered away. The stench made her gag. The cries shot through her like arrows. It was worse, far worse, then watching a movie.

  Winged
-women hovered above the battlefield, their faces grim. They kept their attention on one female in particular—a woman who looked exactly like Fraya.

  The Fraya lookalike pointed and gave commands like a general. “We spare him, him, and him. Send them to Valhalla.” Her lip curled as she pointed to another man. “Give him to the Shadespawn Drascatu.”

  The man moaned and cried out. “Save me, goddess. Don’t make me go to the dark place.”

  “Why not? You live there already, what with your terrible crimes against humanity...and against woman-kind.”

  “I loved women,” he protested. “I love them still.”

  The Fraya lookalike dropped to the ground. Seizing the man by his armor, she hefted him in the air, as if he were a wee mouse. “You’ve raped them. Seeded them and abandoned them with your wicked offspring. Left them to misery and a wretched existence. All so you could wave this thing...” Her hand shot between his legs and squeezed.

  The man screamed.

  “All so you could wave this puny thing around and feel good about yourself for the fleeting moments you got off.” She flung him away like roadkill. “Leave him,” she commanded.

  A dark shadowy creature flitted into view.

  Kara nearly lost her lunch.

  About the size of a bulldog, the thing was beyond ugly. It had some black, shiny, leathery-looking substance covering its dwarf-like body. A bony skeleton poked and protruded through the skin, adding to its grotesque appearance. Black webbed wings gave it flight. Its hands and feet ended in claws.

  The worst part was its face. Crisscrossed with scars, its skin stretched tightly across its cheeks. In the place where eyes should be, it had black indentations. Instead of a mouth, its lips had been sliced away. The skin had healed in a brutal scar which pulled back from its decaying teeth and red, swollen gums.

  Its head twisted to face her.

  For a few seconds, Kara felt pinned in some horror flick, like an actor forced to witness herself in her own play.

  The creature seemed to see her, even though it had no eyeballs. The scarred hole where its mouth should be stretched back along his face like a horrible smile of acknowledgment. It nodded and turned back to the blubbering male.

  “Put him out of his misery. Take him beyond hell.” The Fraya lookalike issued orders, then zipped away like a falcon.

  A shiver coiled through Kara, forcing her intestines into a twisted knot.

  The thing hovered over the male’s fallen form for a few seconds. Landing, it hooked one of its clawed fingers over a wound in the dying man’s abdomen and gave it a quick yank.

  The dying man screamed.

  The Drascatu melted into a jelly-like substance and oozed toward the wound.

  The man writhed and gagged, screaming for his life. His abdomen rippled and bulged, as if he were trying to digest a small dog, eaten whole. Finally, he stilled.

  The Drascatu thing popped out of the man’s guts, covered with blood and undigested food. It burped loudly and wiped blood from its face. Then, it shook like a dog, resumed its solid shape, and flew away.

  “What’s going on here?” Kara asked, frozen in her cat-cow pose. Her brain had no way of processing what she’d witnessed.

  “Oh,” Fraya said. “He’s heading to what you call hell. The Drascatu also track the weak. There was one flitting around your hospital room, trying to decide whether you’re strong or helpless. Show us you’re strong and assume your destiny.” She sneered.

  Kara cringed. At the thought of one of those demonic creatures slithering inside her body, eating her insides, Kara’s stomach heaved. She clamped her hand over her mouth.

  “They used to be human—all the Drascatu Shadespawn. When they take a soul with them, they make it one of their own. Whoever they consume will live in misery the rest of their existence.”

  Saliva pooled in Kara’s mouth. She fought back the vomit threatening to explode from her mouth.

  One of the winged-women retrieved an arrow from a quiver on her back, fit it into the crossbow, and shot one of the men she was told to save. The arrow flew true and straight, puncturing the man’s chest.

  With one last exclamation, his body stilled. A small light coiled from his head like smoke, and then disappeared.

  “What about him?” Kara pointed at the place where the light burst had risen.

  “Him? He’s going to hang with Odin.”

  “Is Odin like God?”

  Fraya laughed. “He thinks so. Odin’s a bit self-centered. Someone called him the ‘Master of Ecstasy’ once and, boy, did he seize on that term. Now he insists everyone call him that.” Her fiery eyes rolled in their sockets. “He lets these chosen souls party with him throughout time in exchange for their protection from the wolf god Fenrir. Long story, that. I don’t have time to explain.”

  Kara scrambled to her feet. She waved her hand at Fraya’s face. “I need answers.”

  A smug smile crossed the winged-woman’s face. “Oh, no. What you need are your memories. Come on.” Stepping to Kara’s back, she wrapped her arm under her armpits, unfurled her giant wings, and took off into the sky.

  They sailed over similar battle scenes throughout time and history. One war blurred into the next. They flew past horrific events from every culture, everywhere on Earth.

  When they flew past the terrorist attack on the World Trade center, a sob escaped Kara’s lips.

  “What’s the matter?” the winged woman said.

  “I lost friends in that attack. I’d gladly send those terrorist bastards to the depth of hell.”

  “Now you’re getting with the program. You get to choose.”

  “Choose what?” Kara asked, giving Fraya a sidelong glance.

  “Who goes where. You say the word. Either choose or yield to command from another who chooses for you. A few go to hell or somewhere worse, some go to a better place. Although hanging out with the Master of Ecstasy throughout time is not my idea of fun. Still, I love my job. Look—there’s a committee at work now.” She landed in a huge oak tree, overlooking a dusk-lit clearing.

  Kara settled beside her.

  Winged women sat in a circle around huge looms, weaving. They laughed and talked as they worked. Goblets of wine were freely consumed, along with chocolate and pastries. They pressed on foot pedals, making the loom harnesses slide through whitish fibers. Holding wooden shuttles wound with colorful threads, they pushed them through the two layers of white fibers poised between the harnesses. Then, they sharply pulled bone-colored beaters against the fibers, once, twice, three-times. On the third whack against the fibers, their weaving began to glow bright red.

  Perched on a sturdy branch, Kara clutched the trunk of the tree. “Can they hear us?”

  “No. We’re outside of their dimension. They can perhaps sense us, but not hear us or see us.”

  “What are they weaving? Some magical garment for a king perhaps?”

  “No.” Fraya scoffed, tossing her mane of hair behind her shoulder. “They’re weaving destinies. Look closer.”

  Kara peered at the weights keeping the warp fibers taut. Her nose wrinkled as recognition dawned. “Are those weights...human heads?”

  “Yes,” said Fraya, smiling. “Keep looking. Tell me what you see.”

  Kara squinted, wishing she were closer to the women.

  “Go ahead,” Fraya said, as if reading her mind. “Propel your dream-self closer.”

  As soon as the thought occurred to her, Kara found herself next to the loom, fingering the white fibers of the warp.

  Underneath the loom lay corpses, the “threads” being pulled from their stomach cavities.

  She made a garbled cry and jerked her hand back. “Holy crows! These are intestines! And the beaters...they’re arrows shaped from bones.”

  The threads of the weft were also pulled from the corpses.

  “Blood vessels!” Kara screeched. “They’re weaving destinies out of human parts!”

  One of the women looked up from her weaving an
d stared straight at Kara with sunset-golden eyes. Her long red hair fell along her shoulders. She gave Kara a thumbs-up. Then, with a flip of her head, she got back to work. Turning to another woman, she said something, stabbing her thumb toward Kara.

  They all laughed.

  “The woman talking to me—that’s me!” Unable to view another incomprehensible thing, she ran.

  “Wait,” Fraya called. “You have to make a choice. You can either be a Valkyrie, or...”

  Like a balloon pricked by a pin, Kara careened past the forest and the wolves and the snow-capped mountains, heading to familiar ground. When she got to the hospital, she rocketed along the corridor, bouncing against the walls like a pin-ball.

  Bursting into the hospital room, she raced to the edge of the bed. Her fingers clutched the cool frame.

  Her body still lay unconscious on the bed.

  Jaidon held her hand.

  Her father continued to stand in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

  Her mother hovered with her hands on Jaidon’s shoulders, as if drawing strength.

  And one of those evil little Drascatu bastards fluttered about her body, practically salivating.

  Kara’s lungs heaved. Her heart raced. “I can either choose to be a Valkyrie or die here in this hospital room. Then, the wretched Drascatu creature might crawl inside me, whisking me to God knows where, because I’m deemed weak. What kind of choice is that?”

  4

  A long string of spit fell from the Drascatu’s mouth-place, landing on Kara’s body in the hospital bed. The spit stain blossomed on the crisp sheet, flowering into the shape of an atom bomb explosion.

  Still witnessing everything from the ceiling, Kara yelled, “Get away from me! Get out of here!”

  The creature didn’t register her presence, remaining focused on her human self.

  A long moan escaped her physical lips.

  Jaidon jerked from his zombie-like stupor.

  Her mother squeezed Jaidon’s shoulders, then rushed to her husband’s side. “Go get a nurse. She’s coming to.”

  “No, you don’t get it,” Kara yelled from her vantage point on the ceiling. “I’m about to die if I don’t choose to be a Valkyrie. This butt ugly creature might eat me from the inside and take me to hell. I’m terrified.” She darted around the hospital room like a dragonfly, picturing weaving someone’s destiny with guts, blood vessels, and bones. “No, no, no. What am I going to do? Nothing in my FBI training prepared me for this.”