by T. G. Ayer
The shards of the queen's goblet lay scattered around the graveled ground like an explosion of a glittering rainbow. I worked slowly, careful not to break any pieces, careful not to cut myself. At last, I faced my Ulfr partner.
The last piece lay in Mika's neck, and that was the hardest for me. I hesitated so many times, standing over her body, casting a mournful shadow over her still and silent corpse, willing myself to move, to grab it and give it a firm jerk.
But I was terrified.
Terrified of hurting her. Terrified of getting her blood on my hands. Terrified of breaking the crystal shard.
Even though common sense said I wouldn't hurt her, since she was dead, I still felt so terrible, as if I'd be inflicting some horrible pain on my poor friend. But that was it. She wasn't poor and from what I could tell, she wasn't a friend. Never had been a friend.
My hand shook as I gripped the shard and tugged, but my fingers slipped on the slowly cooling blood. I sat back on my heels, turning away to breathe, pressing the back of my hand against my mouth, unsure if I was holding back the urge to cry or the urge to vomit.
It didn't matter which.
I tried again, this time wiping the end of the piece of crystal clean so I could get a better grip. Gripping tight, I took a shattered breath and then pulled slowly. The shard shifted, and an almost hysterical scream bubbled up in my throat. It was the most horrible feeling I'd ever experienced; the shard moving against the muscles within Mika's neck, the softness of the way the piece of crystal moved inside her throat, against her flesh.
My knees hurt from pressing my whole weight onto jagged stones, and the sun bruised my head and back. Another gentle tug and the shard came free. I'd expected a flood of blood to flow from Mika's neck, but then it struck me—there wouldn't be any blood because her heart had stopped.
Forever.
Suddenly I felt icy cold. Steeped in a frozen ocean, lost in a blizzard of grief. I sat back on my heels and wiped furiously at the rest of the shard. Desperate to remove all traces of Mika from the colored crystal.
I laid it along with the other shards in a small pile within the open mouth of the pillowslip. With the greatest of care I tied the knot and stood up abruptly, filled with an anger I couldn't explain.
I was suddenly furious with a lot of people. With Loki for turning Mika against her father. With Fen for not trying harder with his child. With Mika herself for betraying him.
And for betraying me.
I placed the pillowslip inside my bag, shuddering at the thought of the bloody fabric against my weapons. I supposed I should have been grateful the blood had dried out a bit. Not so bad. Cloak in hand, I paused as I turned on my heel to walk toward the opening, to get away from this place, to hightail it to the Bifrost.
But something pulled me back. I couldn't just leave Mika there like that. I had to bring her back to Asgard. It didn't matter that she would go back home in disgrace, having betrayed her family. Her body had to be returned to Asgard, and to Fen, even if I had no idea if Fen would forgive his daughter.
I had to do my duty.
Resolved, I bent over and grabbed her by her hands, lifting her limp form into my arms. She was dead weight, pulling me into the ground. Bracing myself, I slung her body over my shoulder, shifting slightly at the discomfort of having a body pressed against my wing.
I blinked away my tears. Aidan and Siri were lost to us forever. All because of Mika's misplaced loyalty.
And Loki's treachery.
As I turned to make my way to the Bifrost, the dragon's eye bumped against my thigh—heavy in my pocket. Heavy and warm. I shifted, struggling a little to retrieve the sphere. The golden eye gleamed at me and I stared back, my sadness deepening to bitter despair. I had failed everyone. Tyra wouldn't be too happy, either.
I looked away and faced a landscape that in the darkness and gloom of our arrival had been a shadowy, eerie forest of gnarled bark and leafless limbs. Now the sunlight threw the black trees into a stark clarity. Brightly lit bark and leafless limbs pointed at the sky. My laughter echoed, the sound as hollow and as dead as the trees themselves.
Taking a deep breath, I trudged into the woods, ignoring the groping fingers of ghost trees, absently rubbing my thumb against the smooth surface of the dragon's eye. I gritted my teeth.
Thor had told me not to trust anyone.
I'd disobeyed.
I'd let my feelings get the better of me; put my trust and my life in Mika's hands. Worse, I'd put Aidan's and Siri's lives in her hands. And she'd betrayed me.
How laughable.
Bitter tears leaked from my eyes, and this time I didn't have the strength to hold them back. Not now. Not when everything was lost to me.
Head down, deep in self-pity, I almost walked straight into the woman standing in my path.
Lady Tyra.
Chapter 32
I froze, swallowing a stutter, trying not to make myself look guilty before I even opened my mouth. Although I was pretty weighed down with Mika's dead body, it was the remnants of the goblet that filled me with shame.
"Valkyrie." Lady Tyra nodded in greeting, her pale blonde hair so cool and regal against the red of her gown. She folded her hands before her, waiting patiently.
Trouble.
"Lady Tyra," I answered, hoping I sounded graceful despite talking with a corpse on my shoulder.
"Put the Ulfr down, child." Tyra gave Mika a distasteful stare. I heaved the dead weight off my shoulder and allowed Mika's body to fall slowly to the barren ground. Around us, the dead trees waved bare talons at us and despite the sunshine, the place held the promise of all things bad.
I shivered, fear weakening my resolve. I could try prideful denial, but in the end I knew I was afraid of the wrath of this powerful dragon matriarch. I could almost hear the remains of the goblet chinking within my bag, laughing at me, so ready to give me away.
"Where is the goblet, Brynhildr?" Tyra's face looked so patient, but behind her kind and gentle voice lay an inch of steel and within her eyes burned twin flames of warning.
"I'm afraid I have failed." I could do no more than whisper the words, hanging my head in grief and shame.
Cool fingers touched my chin and lifted my face, bringing my gaze up to meet with hers. "Where is the goblet, child?"
I scrabbled within my bag and withdrew the folded, bloodied fabric, careful not to jar the shards, careful not to stab myself with them. I knelt, laying the pillowslip on the ground, untying it to reveal the remains of the goblet in all its broken glory.
Then I rose, the urge to turn and run so strong I had to press my feet into the ground to keep myself from bolting. Tyra was so quiet.
Too quiet.
I snuck a peek at her face and gave a silent sigh of relief. She hadn't turned a hideous shade of killer dragon purple. Not yet, anyway.
"I'm so sorry, Lady Tyra. I've failed you and I've failed Aidan." I threw a dirty glance at Mika, my anger and hatred for her still so strong that a part of me wished I hadn't ended her life only by accident. A white-hot fury surged within my blood, coloring my thoughts. Good thing Mika wasn't alive, because if she were, I'd be tempted to end her sorry life on purpose.
I blinked, shocked at the level of my anger.
Tyra shook her head, a tinge of sadness in her golden eyes. My face must have broadcast my feelings, because she spoke gently in response to my unspoken thoughts. "Your heart is good and honest, Valkyrie. Do not attempt to be someone you are not. To harden your heart is to remove it." A sad curve formed on her lips as she looked at the shards glittering on the ground.
Tyra focused so intently on the shattered pieces that I felt as if I'd faded into the background. I blinked as something shone at the edge of my vision. A bright ball of heat emanated from the pile of crystal shards, and an ethereal steam began to twist and rise from the shiny pile. I watched in awed silence. The shards glistened and gradually lost their shape, melting into each other.
The molten crystal rose slowly i
nto the air in an amorphous blob, still continuing to melt and mix. Waves of heat blasted me as the sphere swirled and twirled, its yellow and red and purple streaks all blending into each other, though never losing their inherent colors.
Soon the ball glowed red, and I almost gasped in amazement when Tyra extended her hand beneath the spinning globe, the sleeves of her elegant ruby gown hanging almost to the ground. She turned her palm up, and the heated, malleable mass fell onto her soft skin. And though I expected her skin to sizzle, I heard nothing.
The golden sheen on the skin of her palm and hands reminded me that she was a dragon, the mother of the Nidhogg, king of the dragons. She worked the molten crystal, fingers moving, sculpting, heat still emanating from her hands in visible, smoky waves. Until soon her dexterous fingers shaped the heated glass into a goblet. Not to the same quality as the original, superbly crafted goblet. Just a crude receptacle that would hold a liquid within its bowl safely.
Again, the dragon matriarch seemed to be in tune with my thoughts. "The goblet is merely the vessel," she said. "It is the crystal and the blood of the dwarf king which has the power to drain the poison from someone afflicted with the goddess Skadi's viper poison. Thus we need only to fashion a drinking bowl, though I do believe the goblet was once a thing of beauty."
I nodded, afraid to speak, my throat tight. I really, really wanted to cry. Must have been relief or a sudden drop in adrenalin. Or something. Whatever it was, I wanted to hug Tyra and bawl my eyes out.
Way to be a big baby, Bryn.
"You have done well, Valkyrie," Tyra said. She handed the goblet back to me. It felt strange, all those smoother edges compared to its previous crystalline sharpness.
Lady Tyra's approval did nothing to make me feel better, though. The sight of Mika's lifeless body slumped on the stones filled me with a deep sadness. I felt my earlier anger begin to fade.
"Brynhildr, the Ulfr made her choice. No doubt, it was the wrong choice and one that resulted in her end. But there is nothing you should feel responsible for."
"I trusted her. Even when I was told not to trust anyone." My voice and heart were bitter and hard.
"Why did you place your trust in her?" Tyra asked, the question gentle, without judgment or admonition.
"Because she was my friend. And she seemed to care about what happened to me. I guess I was pretty well fooled now, wasn't I?"
"There is nothing wrong with trusting someone. That she betrayed you is unfortunate, but it is the way things often happen. One must learn from one's mistakes. Life seems to love throwing those lessons at us when we least expect it."
I nodded. She spoke the truth, but I drew little comfort from her words as the sun bled its cheery brightness upon my gloom. I much preferred the shadowed night.
"Come, we need to get you back to Asgard."
I squinted at Tyra, a bit unsure now that she'd assumed control. But I did need some kind of guidance. Mika's betrayal proved a painful reminder that my judgment of people sucked. Now I felt lost, unable to make a solid decision without doubting myself.
Good thing I have Lady Tyra.
Or was it time to remember Thor's warning? Time to question if Steinn's mother could really be trusted?
I frowned as I realized she'd arrived just when I needed her most. "How did you know where I was? How did you get here so fast?"
"The eye of the dragon," Tyra answered enigmatically.
I reached into my pocket and grabbed the sphere, holding it up to the sunlight. The flame still flickered inside it, less vigorously than before, though. I scowled at the ball, urging my eyes to see something that would explain how the ball had summoned Steinn's mother to me.
Tyra continued, "The eye of the dragon helped me to see your need of my assistance." She smiled. "You touched the eye and it sensed your unhappiness, your grief. When I recognized those emotions, I knew you needed my help."
I offered her a hesitant nod, still feeling that the whole thing was a little too convenient. "You gave me the eye so you could keep an eye on me?" Somewhere inside me the urge to grin swelled, as a tiny part of me saw how funny this was.
Tyra gave me another one of her regal nods. "And I am most glad that you accepted it. Had you declined my gift, you would still be upset and would still fear that all was lost."
"Thank you so much." I couldn't think of anything more appropriate to say. I knew I should demonstrate my appreciation in a better way but was ultimately at a loss as to how.
"Do not worry, child. You are on your way to saving both your friend and my granddaughter. Now we must be going." Tyra held my arm, urging me toward the Bifrost.
I slipped out of her grip and bent to grab Mika and shimmy her over my shoulder again, ignoring Tyra's admonishing glare. She definitely didn't want me to bring Mika along. Well, tough. I was taking her home no matter what the dragon lady thought.
With Mika finally settled on my shoulder, I shuddered as the warmth began to leave her corpse. I followed Tyra, juggling the goblet and Mika. I didn't want to part with either of those burdens just then.
When we reached the Bridge, Tyra turned to face me. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, and I knew she meant to insist I leave Mika behind. Maybe it was the grim determination in my eyes that made her pause, that made her give me an assessing glance. My earlier fear of her was gone now, replaced by a steely resolve. With an almost imperceptible nod, the dragon queen stepped on the Bifrost and disappeared. I guess she figured I wouldn't leave Mika behind no matter what she said.
She was right.
Chapter 33
This time I barely registered any discomfort on the Bifrost. We stepped off the bridge into the transfer room, where the fire flared a bright warm welcome. I righted myself, legs a bit wobbly now, stomach still a bit whirly, but concentrating on my burdens and not much else.
"Where is Heimdall?" Tyra looked around, frowning, as if expecting someone to be there.
"Who?" I barely paid attention to her as I adjusted Mika's weight on my shoulder.
"Heimdall, the guard of the Bifrost?" Worry and concern flared in her eyes. "It is not normal for him to leave his post unattended."
"I'm sorry, Lady Tyra. I've never met anyone with that name in Asgard. And nobody has mentioned him to me either."
Tyra blanched, then clicked her tongue. "In all the time you have been here, nobody thought to mention the fact that the guard of the Bifrost is absent?" Her rant ended in a little high-pitched lilt, and I curbed the urge to smile. Boy, was she a tad worked up.
"Do you want me to ask somebody . . . ?"
"Never mind, child. You may want to get rid of that Ulfr, though." Tyra wrinkled her nose, as if she too had suddenly developed a special Ulfr odor detector.
I stiffened, a tiny bit offended at the implied insult, but caring a lot less now than I would have yesterday, or any day before Mika had betrayed me.
We left the transfer room and its comforting warmth and headed down the warren of welcoming torch-lit passages to Odin's hall. Lady Tyra followed me without a word. Inside the hall, silence reigned, but I knew it wouldn't be long before Odin arrived. He always seemed to know when I needed to talk to him, or just when I needed him.
Godly powers, no doubt.
I let Mika slide to the white marble tiles and straightened, enjoying the relief from her dead weight. My right hand, curled around the stocky base of the crude goblet, had almost fallen asleep. I pried my fingers from the goblet and rubbed them against my hip to get the blood moving again.
Barely seconds later, a figure shimmered at the dais, then another in the second throne. Both Odin and Frigga appeared, worry lining their foreheads. They sent curious glances and quick smiles in Lady Tyra's direction but soon the spotlight returned to me.
"Brynhildr." Odin's voice boomed across the empty hall.
"My lord," I said, bowing my head. "My lady."
"Come, child, tell us—have you succeeded?" Odin seemed a tad impatient.
I hesitate
d and swallowed hard before answering, "Yes. Sort of." I frowned, unsure of how my news would be received, suddenly terrified of their wrath.
"What is it, child?" asked Frigga, her voice much calmer and less antagonistic than the All-Father's booming tone. Her dark, warm eyes encouraged me to talk, as did her gentle smile. "Has Mika been injured?" I nodded, but before I could clarify the mortality of her injuries, Frigga asked, "Did you get the goblet?"
"The goblet was shattered." I winced, expecting a furious reaction. One that I did receive.
"What?" bellowed Odin. "How did such a thing happen?"
"Mika . . ." I turned to glance at her body. "She attacked me, grabbed the goblet from my hands. And when I tried to take it back, she threw it against a wall. It shattered into so many pieces. . . . It's fine now, I think." I held the ugly goblet up for both gods to inspect.
Odin's one grey eye swirled with stormy clouds. "I thought you said it shattered?" High above us, the wooden eaves shuddered at his question.
"Yes, and Lady Tyra put it back together. Will it still work?" I asked meekly, terrified I'd be punished, probably struck by lightning on the spot, reduced to a pile of Bryn-ashes in the blink of an eye.
"We can only try and hope that it does work." Frigga rose, sending Lady Tyra a grateful smile. The goddess held out her hand. A cloudy mist swirled above her palm, shimmering as if someone had thrown silver dust onto a puff of cotton wool. A pestle and mortar solidified in her hand as she drew closer to me, her pale dress shimmering with silver thread as she moved. "Take this." I stared at the pestle and mortar, confused. A heavy silence hung over the hall. "The Glasir has gifted you with that which you need, my child. Use the leaf, Brynhildr."
For a minute I was lost, and then it slowly sunk in.
Did I really have to sacrifice my leaf from the Glasir tree? This sucked.
