“Are they?” Lucas asked curiously. “Kicking your ass, I mean. You guys look pretty invincible.”
“Even the invincible can be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. There are so few of us to begin with and we can’t be everywhere at once. In the twenty centuries since the Descent, the Alfar have been breeding themselves an army while we have grown weak and our numbers depleted….” Roar pressed his lips together. “Never mind. I am speaking out of turn. It has been a long few days.”
“Have you slept at all?” Asher asked.
Roar’s shoulders lifted fractionally. “I’ve dozed.”
“I can take over here. You should sleep. Real sleep, I mean,” Asher told him.
Roar nodded. “I’m too tired to even try to argue.”
Lucas stood up. “I should let you get your sleep.” He put his glass down.
“It was good to meet you at last, Lucas. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years,” Roar told him.
“Really?” Lucas grinned, as if he was genuinely pleased. “I, of course, had no idea you existed until a while ago.”
“That was the nature of our life then,” Roar agreed soberly.
After Lucas had gone, Asher poured Roar another drink. “Finish that, then go and sleep,” he said.
Roar hesitated, then reached out for the glass. “I should remain sober,” he muttered and drank deeply.
Asher studied him. “You’re being gloomy.”
“I’m not gloomy.” Roar finished the glass. “I’m far beyond that.” He grimaced. “I didn’t know I was a pessimist until today.”
“You said the portal will hold,” Asher pointed out.
Roar stood up. “Do you know what I’ve been doing while you were in Africa?”
Asher shook his head.
“Disaster planning.” Roar’s grimace this time looked like he had bitten into something noxious and rotting. “Do you know what will happen if the Alfar make it through to New York City?”
“I have a general idea,” Asher said gently.
“Well, I know every last possible scenario. We’ve been figuring out how bad it would get, and exactly how to deal with them if they break through.” He laid the flat of his hand over the now-empty glass and deliberately pushed it toward Asher. It scraped harshly across the counter. “I won’t let them through, Asher. They must not come through. It’s that simple.” His gaze met Asher’s, and he held it.
Cold, hard fingers walked up Asher’s spine and he shuddered. “You’ve got a doomsday plan?” he asked Roar softly.
Roar’s nod was infinitesimal. “If I pull the plug, you don’t want to be within a city block of here.”
Asher knew that if the Alfar were pouring through the portal, into New York itself, he would be right there, doing his best to slow them down. They wouldn’t get New York without a fight. But he wouldn’t say that because Roar would argue with him. “You need to go and sleep,” he told Roar instead. “Go on. Go. I’ll do the rounds and make sure everything’s closed tight. You’ll feel happier after six solid hours of sleep.”
Roar shook his head. “If you believe that, then you don’t understand how precarious our position is. We’re holding on with our fingernails. All it will take is one good shove….”
Asher reached for the bottle. He hated scotch, but it suddenly felt like a good idea to drink more of it. “What do you want from me? You want me to join you? Beat my chest and wail?” He took a big mouthful of the scotch. “The Americans say it best. It’s not over until it’s over. The humans might decide that an atomic bomb dropped on the Serengeti would end this war as neatly as it ended the last world war. The Alfar might all curl up their toes and die because they can’t handle our common cold. You don’t know how it’s going to go. Anything could happen to turn this around. So go and get some sleep, and stop whining like a little girl.”
Roar grinned. “That sounds just like you. You’ve always been stupid about playing the odds.”
“So go away and let me play them,” Asher growled.
Roar lifted his hand up to signal defeat, and headed for the bedroom area. His shoulders were bowed, and his head lowered. Asher watched him go, his heart thudding unhappily. He could talk about playing the odds and fighting to the end, and he would refute every negative thing Roar said, using sheer bluff and bravado, because to admit how close to defeat they were felt like giving in. But that didn’t stop the slow trickle of hope and the drain of courage it took with it.
He finished the glass of scotch, then headed out to the hall to see to the placement and strengthening of the guards around the portals and the public entrance to the hall.
He kept his shoulders straight and his head up. It wasn’t over until it was over.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ten days after the fall of Kenya, England was lost. The Alfar, who had systematically overcome hall after hall by pouring through the portals and overwhelming the Einherjar they found with sheer numbers, did a very unexpected thing: they didn’t use the portals and they didn’t attack the Einherjar. Instead, they dropped the shield that had been protecting the tower straddling London, and Myrakar, Blakar, Sinnar and Asmegar poured out in all directions. Thousands upon thousands of them spread across greater London and southern Britain in overwhelming waves, attacking human centers of authority and reaping slaves as they went. As they conquered, the aura was expanded to shield their new territory. By sunrise the morning after their coup, the southern portion of the British Isles was occupied, the northern portion in complete disarray and panic, and the shield continued to push steadily north, claiming mile after mile of countryside.
Charlee heard the rumor of bad news when she entered the small boardroom that had been assigned to the stallari and his men for training purposes. As all the Einherjar and many of the Valkyrie were fighting in the war, there remained only Amica and a few Herleifr to keep the hall operating. None of them were excused from daily practice, but Charlee would have continued to train on her own even if the training had been abandoned. The stress relief and reassurance the training gave her was beyond price.
She slipped between the open doors of the boardroom, her long knives balanced on her shoulder, and looked around curiously. She was a few minutes late, but no one was actively training, which was what she had expected to see.
Gerda, the most senior Valkyrie still resident in the hall, was surrounded by Amica and one or two Einherjar, including Bahram, the head of security, who was acting as stallari for these training sessions, as Howard was away fighting.
Charlee walked over to the tightly gathered group. “What’s happening?” she asked, lowering her knives.
AnnaJo looked at Charlee. “Britain has gone.”
Charlee’s heart leapt, and cold fear threaded through her veins. “All of it?”
“Almost,” AnnaJo replied in a whisper. “They’re saying it’s only a matter of hours. They just crossed into Scotland, half-an-hour ago.”
“They’re going overland, instead of bulldozing their way through the portals,” another Amica said. “They learned from the Plains Battle that they’re strongest that way.”
“You don’t know that,” Gerda said disapprovingly. “Facts are hard enough to establish in wartime. There’s no need to add to the chaos by speculating on what you do not know.”
Scotland. A hop and a skip across the North Sea and they would be in Norway. Charlee took a deep breath, trying to calm her jangling nerves. “Can they cross open water?” she asked. “They don’t have vehicles of any kind.”
Gerda looked at her sharply, then straightened. “That is enough discussion for now,” she said with the same final, inarguable tone in her voice. “Our duty is to keep the hall operating smoothly. Return to your duties. Bahram, please begin training. We all need to occupy ourselves with priorities, not speculation.”
Slowly, Charlee moved to a clear space in the small boardroom, which was large enough to hold all of them once the table had been removed, and settled into her training rout
ine. She understood that Gerda was riding hard on everyone in order to kill any hint of panic before it could blossom and infect everyone in the hall. They all needed to keep their heads. Stefan and Eira would not allow the hall to go unprotected, and besides, the Alfar had not shown they were capable of crossing seas. They used the portals, and their new conquests always stopped at the waterline.
Worrying about how close they were to Tryvannshøyden wouldn’t benefit anyone. The portals were the most secure sections of any hall, with an overabundance of Einherjar protecting every single one of them. Besides, the Alfar had no idea where the Second Hall was.
But knowing it was pointless to worry, and not worrying were two completely different things. And where was Asher? In the thick of things as usual?
* * * * *
“As long as the location of the Second Hall remains unknown to the Alfar,” Stefan said, lifting his voice so that humans and Einherjar at the back of the hall could hear him, “then doing anything overt, like increasing our land-based defenses in the country where the Second Hall is located, will tell the Alfar where it is.”
The roundabout reference to Norway was because of the number of humans in the room. Most of the humans were high-ranking military, with a scattering of politicians and other power-wielders and civil servants. Journalists had been carefully screened out of the meeting, although Asher had already been told by the handful of men he had brought over from New York that the media had set up outside the hall and were waiting for an update.
They had stepped over to the Isle of Man as soon as the alarm over Britain’s occupation had gone up. Asher had doubled the Einherjar guarding the New York portals, then picked six to take with him to the hastily called meeting.
Roar stayed back at the hall, only after Asher had argued him to a standstill. Roar had still not recovered his usual robust energy, even after two weeks of lighter duties, and Asher refused to let him step onto the field of battle until he was completely his old self once more.
The hall on the Isle of Man was a tiny one and barely contained the assembled heads. It had been abandoned for decades and the smell of mold and dust was strong, even though Amica had been contributed from dozens of halls to clean the building before the heads of state descended.
The meeting had been set for noon, GMT, and the humans given full use of the portals and accompanying Einherjar guides in order to make the meeting in the few hours’ notice given them. Some of them had arrived looking sleepy, and some annoyed, but they had come.
An Einherjar tapped on Stefan’s shoulder and passed over a scrap of notepaper, then stepped off the dais and moved away.
Eira read the note over Stefan’s shoulder. Her face did not move by a millimetre, but Asher had a feeling that the news was not good. She resettled her sword and spread her feet into a ready stance, staring out at the attendees. The knuckles on the hand curled around the hilt of her sword whitened.
Stefan looked up from the note. “Scotland has fallen. That puts the main island of Britain completely in the hands of the Alfar.”
Asher held back his surprise, struggling not to show it on his face. The Alfar had moved across the land, conquering it faster than the average human train could travel. He had seen how fast they could move in Kenya, but this was unprecedented. He made a mental note to check with Roar and Stefan afterward—had the Alfar used auras to speed their progress? Was this something they had developed? They had spent centuries honing their use of the auras while the Kine had avoided using them at all. The Kine were paying for that discipline in all sorts of ways, now. The Alfar didn’t seem to care about the impact of anything they did upon anyone, or the land itself.
He sighed and refocused upon Stefan, who was standing silently, waiting for the reaction to the news about the fall of Britain to die down.
Someone in the crowd with a rich British accent spoke up. “This is worse than the Second World War. We held back the Germans. They never set foot upon mainland England, but we paid the price for that success. This, though…it’s a bit rum, wouldn’t you say? How could they possibly move so fast? Is it more magic you haven’t told us about?”
“If it is, Minister,” Stefan replied, “then it’s magic that we have no knowledge of either. The Herleifr have been completely frank about the Alfar.”
“But not about your own situation, wouldn’t you say?” the same voice shot back. “Why this panicked reaction to the taking of what amounts to a land mass about the same size as Kenya? Are they getting a tad close to home, perhaps?”
It was a shot in the dark, but it was a finely aimed one. Stefan shifted on his feet, a telling movement that nearly everyone in the room would interpret correctly. His normally steady gaze flickered sideways. Asher gritted his teeth, silently urging Stefan to hold it together.
“The time has come to look to our home defenses,” Stefan said. “That is what this meeting is for.”
“What do they want with England, anyway?” The question came from someone Asher couldn’t see between all the heads in the room, but the accent was western European. French or Danish perhaps. It was a good question, but one that Stefan couldn’t afford to answer. Not in this room, not to these people. The real answer was, they didn’t know. The Alfar were one step ahead of them and had been since Kenya. All the Einherjar seemed capable of doing was defending and retreating, to defend again, only to retreat yet again. Human military technology seemed to have no effect. But hand-to-hand combat with blades did slow them down and that was all the Kine were doing. Slowing them down.
Britain gave the Alfar nothing. Neither did Kenya. The Alfar did not know where the portals they now controlled would take them to, and as they had discovered in New York, trying to find out for themselves was costly.
Asher drew in a slow breath, hiding his reaction as ideas and facts coupled up in his mind. Fear exploded inside his chest, stealing his breath and making him almost dizzy. He bowed his head, struggling to stay calm, on the outside at least. When he thought he could move without stumbling, he pushed his way through the people standing around him, heading for the exit. As he weaved his way out of the crowd, he pulled out his cellphone and thumbed out a text message.
alfar plan to take 2nd hall - from both sides
He hit send just as he reached the big doors, and he looked over his shoulder as he pushed his way out. Eira was reaching slowly for the phone on the pouch at her hip, making it look casual, not drawing attention to herself.
It would have to be enough. Asher stepped outside into the foyer, and sprinted for the portals, calling for his men as he went.
* * * * *
Run! They’re coming! Hurry! Get out! Get out! Get out!
The words roiling in her mind barely registered as coherent thought, but the pulsing urgency driving them pushed Charlee to her feet and into a pounding run, heading for the hall doors without thought or consideration. The communication held the same overwhelming compulsion of the one that had warned her about Kenya.
Charlee threaded her way through injured, wounded and dying. Most of them had stumbled or been carried into the Second Hall from Britain, and they filled the main hall, their vacant and shell-shocked expressions and their shaky movements telling a profound story of the speed and effectiveness of the Alfar attack.
She ran past them all, with her dress hiked up in her arms, freeing most of her legs of underskirt and hem so she could run. Some heads turned to watch her go, but not the wounded.
Charlee slammed her full body weight up against the door, getting it to swing open more and let her around the steady stream of people moving in and out through the narrow gap already opened.
She looked around the rotunda, trying to assess where the threat was coming from and which direction she should take. Who could she warn? Gerda was in Britain with Eira….
Her breath caught as movement by the portals, tucked away behind the big pillars, caught her eye.
Einherjar stood by the portals, as they had since the Alfar had taken
Ganxiao. But these men were standing over the bodies of other Einherjar. Their swords and knives were red with blood.
One of them turned to look over his shoulder and Charlee recognized him. Øystein, Sindri’s best friend and confidante.
She reached for her long knives, strapped to her hips just as Eira had worn her long sword by her side every day since war had broken out, and withdrew them. “I’ll have your betraying entrails, Øystein!” she yelled as she broke out into another run, heading straight for him.
Øystein smiled and turned to face her. At the same moment, Sindri strolled into the hall from the long passage on that side. The passage led to, among other places, the old stone stairs that gave access to the basement cellars where Sindri had been held. He wore a smile of satisfaction, and he looked dirtier and smaller than ever before.
Charlee altered her direction, aiming directly for the little man.
Øystein looked startled, then uncertain, but Sindri’s smile broadened even more. He lifted his hand, palm out toward Charlee, then swiped it sideways, like he was cleaning glass.
Charlee rammed into an invisible wall. Her knee flared deep agony as it was popped backwards, then her chest and shoulders and hips slammed into the barrier. She had been moving so fast that she bounced off the wall like a rubber ball and staggered backwards. Her momentum was too much for her to keep her balance. Her feet went out from under her and she just had enough time to bring her knives up and out of the way of her body as she fell back on her butt and her shoulders. Her head rapped the shiny tiles with a knock hard enough to make her dizzy.
She forced herself to keep moving, propping herself up on one elbow and shaking her head to clear the muzziness. There was a heated spot on the back of her head and she felt it delicately. Her fingers came away bloody.
Øystein was smiling once more. The men around him were dragging the fallen Einherjar back down the passage. On the other side of the rotunda, more of Sindri’s men were doing the same.
The hall was vulnerable.
There were a few humans and Kine milling in the middle of the hall, trying to understand what was happening, for Sindri’s men looked just like any other Einherjar and Sindri was staying back in the shadows. Charlee realized that there was a lot less traffic passing through the rotunda than usual.
The Branded Rose Prophecy Page 57
