by C. R. Jane
Gunnar blinked again, and then he burst out laughing. “Yes, yes, they could have. I don’t have much love for guns.”
“And Miss Raven has a lively tongue,” Jerrik said, pushing himself off the wall. “Well, I suppose—”
“Knock, knock,” someone called from the entrance in a bright brash tenor. Jerrik’s mouth twisted.
Gunnar turned with a smile. “Svend,” he said. “Come in.”
Jerrik cut his gaze toward the giant. “Are you sure—” he started in a low voice, but the newcomer had already sauntered up to the doorway.
This young man stood with a slight bowing of his shoulders, but everything else about him exuded confidence. He nodded to Gunnar and Jerrik, raising his eyebrow at the latter, an easy grin on his face. His brown eyes, as bright as his voice had been, settled on me. He was shorter than the other two, but nearly as brawny as Gunnar, though on him the muscles looked sturdy rather than supple. A ragged fringe of black hair swept across his pale forehead.
So, we had a dark elf in our number too.
“I thought I saw you bringing over company,” he said. “And I happened to come across some apples this morning. It seemed like this might be a good occasion for them.”
He produced four small but perfectly red apples from a pouch dangling from his belt. Jerrik’s lips parted.
“Thank you,” Gunnar said, taking one.
My stomach pinched. As a being of Asgard, as immortal as the god I’d served, I didn’t need to eat all that often, but after the day I’d had, I could use a little replenishing now.
Svend’s gaze found mine again, his grin stretching a little farther as if just for me, and heat pooled lower in my belly. The apple. Focus on the apple, not this distracting body. If Gunnar thought the food the dark elf had brought was safe, I’d trust that.
I accepted one, and Jerrik begrudgingly took the third. Svend raised the last fruit to his own lips and took a bite. The movement of his lips against each other as he chewed made me want to squirm on the blanketed table. Dear Asgard, I could not wait to be in raven form again. Apparently all I needed to prompt the shift was to be terrified out of my skull. That should be fun to arrange—but perhaps not too hard in this place.
“So, you’re Svend,” I said, tipping my head to the right as I took in the dark elf. More memories unfurled around me with his arrival.
He didn’t wait for me to peek into them. “Your resident dark elf, at your service,” he said with a little dip at the waist. “Anything you want or need, I’ll find a way to provide it.” I suspected the gleam in his brilliant eyes was intentionally provocative. I shifted my weight, and the peaks of my breasts brushed the fabric of my dress with little sparks of friction that raised the nipples into points.
“For a price,” Jerrik muttered.
I dug my teeth into my apple. Tartly sweet juice flooded my tongue. That was a sensation I’d rather lose myself in. Impressions floated from Svend of caves even narrower and darker than the one we were in, the shuffling of bodies against each other—
“And what have you been tossed away for, my lady?” Svend said, drawing my attention back to the present. “It can’t be your lovely looks. Myself, I was too tall. No room for a dark elf to live or work if his head connects with the cave ceilings. Sadly, they weren’t willing to renovate the entire city on my behalf.” He spread his hands casually as if to say, What can you do?
I choked on a laugh and almost inhaled my next bite of apple into my lungs.
A light elf whose beauty had been marred. A giant lacking in violent impulses. And a dark elf squeezed out of his heritage of diminutiveness. Quite the trio we had here.
“Muninn, raven of memory,” I replied. “Or woman of memory, temporarily. And I wasn’t tossed away. I was sent by Odin on a scouting mission. I’ve seen enough. Now I’d like to get back to Asgard.”
I only noticed the jerk of Jerrik’s hand at that moment. His gaze had gone flat. “You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you, Miss Raven?”
My brow knit. Svend let out a sigh. “Asgard will take some doing. But it’s lucky for you I stopped by. My most frequent trade is information.” He beamed at Jerrik. “Some distrustful souls believe that makes me an informer. But I can be circumspect when the situation requires. I choose what to share with whom wisely.”
“Or by how much you can get by barter.”
“Oh,” I said. “I don’t have any money.”
The dark elf waved me off. “For a friend—or a lovely lady—I don’t worry about the price. It’s just good conversation.”
Gunnar was frowning. This was the first time he was hearing my full story too. “The gate to Asgard—The Blaze will have that as tightly guarded as the rest, won’t he?”
I glanced between them. “The Blaze?”
“A giant,” Svend said. He patted Gunnar on the arm. “Much more true to form than our excellent friend here. That’s the only name he’s given to anyone I know. He’s ruled over Muspelheim for as long as anyone I’ve spoken to has been around. Built a fortress of stone in the south to shut off all of the gates out of the realm. No one leaves without his permission.”
“When I arrived from Asgard, I didn’t see any fortress,” I said.
“Muspelheim’s gates have fractured,” Jerrik said. “The way in and the way out isn’t always connected these days.” At Svend’s amused look, he crossed his arms. “I do listen even when you ramble on for ages. Have to get my trade’s worth, don’t I?”
Fractured gates? I hadn’t even known that was possible. Had Odin?
“The gate back is still here,” Gunnar said reassuringly. “It just may be harder to get to.”
“Certainly harder.” Svend sank his teeth into his apple and chewed thoughtfully. “But hard doesn’t mean impossible. I personally believe very few things are impossible.”
“Other than you ever getting straight to the point?” Jerrik said.
“Even a preamble serves a purpose, my good ljosalfar,” Svend said. “Now, Muninn, I would think your best bet—”
A roar echoed down the hall of the cave, cutting off whatever he’d meant to say.
Chapter 4
I sprang off the table, every hair on my human body standing on end. With a thunderous crash, the walls of the cave shuddered around us. A crack split through the ceiling over our heads. Gunnar’s eyes widened. “Out!” he shouted.
The ground lurched beneath us as the four of us dashed for the entrance. Chunks fell from the ceiling to smash on the floor. I narrowly dodged one that would have clipped my shoulder. Outside, another roar reverberated through the air.
We’d just reached the fore-room when the stone blocks burst apart at the lash of some massive paw. I dove back into the shelter of the cave, but it wasn’t much shelter now. One of those rocky dragons was clinging to the cliff-face, heaving and wrenching at it, while another scattered the blocks that had made up the front of Gunnar’s home across the dark plain.
Svend had whipped a dagger from his belt, and Jerrik snatched up a thin shard of stone that could serve as a spear. Neither weapon looked likely to do much damage to those beasts.
The dragon on the ground spun to face us, its maw opening to emit a belch of searing air and flame. We scrambled back into a side room just as the burst of fire hissed past us.
Flames caught on the contents of Gunnar’s shelves. The cave around us shuddered again, more rubble tumbling around us as the cracks in the ceiling gaped.
I sucked in a breath, fighting to think around the pounding of my heart. The first time one of those dragons had attacked me, I’d been unprepared and uncertain, and wounded before I’d gotten my bearings. I might be small and soft compared to their immense bodies, but I had powers of my own.
I pushed away from the wall and ran for the ruin of the entrance. “Muninn!” Gunnar shouted. Footsteps thudded after me, but I didn’t wait. I had to do this fast, before the dragons devoured us alive.
The lower dragon snarled as I sprin
ted past it. The one on the cliff-face swiveled and launched itself after me. The air burned in my throat. Feathers and wings, I could use those now. But they didn’t emerge, so I made the best of what I had.
Shadows of memory drifted around the dragons when I reached for them. I whirled around and drank them in. Flickered images washed over me, and I caught on something I could use. I clapped my hands together, my body bracing, my mind narrowing to the finest details of that one past moment.
A herd of cattle wavered into being on the rocky terrain farther beyond the cliff. A rare herd one of the dragons had gotten to stalk and feast from in a long-ago memory drenched with joyous hunger. The smell of the cows’ meaty flesh wafted from their crowded bodies. At their nervous lowing, both of the dragons snapped to attention.
I swept my arm. The herd born from the dragon’s memories charged away in a stampede. The first dragon gave a hunting cry and sprang after them. The second one followed, gnashing its teeth.
Onward, onward, I thought, with one last shove toward my creations. They ran even faster, outpacing the dragons—but never so swiftly they’d vanish from sight. Then I sagged against the cliff-face.
The three guys had been running to my side. They slowed, staring after the dragons and the herd of cattle that had appeared to their eyes out of thin air.
“What in Hel’s name was that?” Jerrik said. His gaze jerked from the retreating dragons to me.
“I can do more than just see memories,” I said. “There’s an energy to them, a power. I can sculpt with it.”
“So, you’re an artist now?”
“She’s a magician!” Svend crowed. He grinned at me. “That was fantastic. You know, with that kind of skill, maybe you could make your way to the gates after all.”
I didn’t feel all that triumphant. Mostly I felt exhausted. It’d already been a trying day, and building a construct out of memories on the fly was rather draining. I swiped my hand over my face. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Are you all right?” Gunnar asked in his low warm voice. When I nodded, he glanced back toward his home. Or what was left of it. Rocks were strewn all around the entrance, which was partly caved in. My gut pinched at the sight. I didn’t know how long he’d lived there, how much work he’d put into setting up everything that was now destroyed, but he simply said, “I’m glad we all made it out unharmed.”
“Awfully strange, two dragons randomly attacking a cave,” Jerrik said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them act like that. Almost as if there was something they particularly wanted inside.”
“Jerrik,” Gunnar said.
The light elf scowled. “I’m just saying, when she took off, the dragons went straight after her. Suddenly they didn’t give a damn about your house anymore.”
They had come right after me. A chill crept over me despite the hot breeze. “Maybe the one I escaped on my way in held a grudge?” I said, but that didn’t seem like a full enough answer. How had it even known where to find me?
Svend tipped his head, looking into the distance. “I’ve heard The Blaze hates Asgardians—even more than he dislikes everyone else. Some of the monsters in this realm follow his orders. He might have told them to be extra vicious when it comes to anyone who enters from the realm of the gods.”
I rubbed my arms. Was some scent of Asgard clinging to me? I’d spent more time in Midgard than home in the last several centuries, but no one could ever completely shed their essence.
“They’ll be back then,” I said. “And maybe others. I can only divert them for so long. I’d better get on with finding that gate. You were going to tell me how you figured I could do that.”
“I did have a few thoughts,” Svend said. “That was before I knew you could make memories come to life.” He studied me with a look both awed and appraising. “The gates are beyond the walls of the giant’s fortress. Heavily guarded walls. But if you could distract the guards and The Blaze himself… All we’d need is a diversion, and then you could make a run for it.”
That sounded simple enough. I straightened up, pushing myself off the rock. With Gunnar’s treatment, the wounds on my back only stung a little. “I’ll take that plan. Now, where’s this fortress, and I’ll be out of your hair.” Before I brought even more destruction to what little these three still had.
“Well,” Svend said, “that journey could be a rather dangerous one if the monsters of Muspelheim are out for your blood. I have to tell you, as much of a living as I’ve managed to pull together here, I can’t say it’s the most enjoyable life. If I could travel to Midgard and find a place to settle there… Would you take a little company along the way, for whatever help I can provide?”
Gunnar stepped forward. “I’d want to make the attempt too. Almost anywhere would be a better life than here. I might not be much of a fighter, but I can carry anything that needs carrying. I can make sure your wounds continue to heal.”
He glanced at Jerrik. The light elf was still scowling. The shifting glow that emanated from the magma stream nearby deepened the shadows of his scar. He sighed.
“It seems we’re as likely to get killed in the attempt as gain our freedom,” he said. “But you know I’m not at all fond of this place. I’ll watch your back on the journey there if it gets me out of here, Miss Raven.”
Not exactly the most passionate pitch I’d ever heard, but I guess I couldn’t blame him for being noncommittal when he’d only just met me. Not to mention the small matter of bringing a couple of bloodthirsty dragons down on his head.
I hesitated under the weight of their gazes. I’d always conducted my travels alone—alone, or at Odin’s side, or perhaps with my fellow raven for a bit of company. That was what I was used to. These three… The way they looked at me, the way my body responded to them, it was a distraction of a different sort, one I hadn’t been prepared for.
Part of me was tempted to say I’d rather keep to my own, look after myself, take the directions and leave. I was already tied to the Allfather, and right now that connection felt more like a shackle than anything else.
But another part of me prickled with the awareness of how tender this new body was. How damned vulnerable to claws and flame. I didn’t know how to navigate it like my raven form in any way that counted.
The guys hadn’t penned me in. Even now, they were waiting for my answer, leaving it up to me. It was my decision where I went and who went with me, not orders I was following.
And I had to admit taking in Gunnar’s hopeful expression, Svend’s sly grin, even the skeptical wryness in Jerrik’s tone… Being in their presence had been enjoyable in a way I couldn’t say I’d ever experienced before. A different kind of company, one I owed no service to.
“Oh, all right,” I said. “I don’t see what it could hurt, anyway.”
“A stunning endorsement of your confidence in us,” Jerrik muttered, but his stance had relaxed a little.
Svend was beaming now. “Brilliant,” he said. “I know the most direct route to get there—which conveniently should also give us some shelter should dragons or any other creatures come calling. We’ll grab supplies and then take the tunnels.”
Chapter 5
The tunnels dipped down beneath the cliffs, far into the hard gray ground, splitting and weaving in every direction. Patches of glowing red crystal lit our way. Svend sauntered along confidently in the lead, seeming to know exactly which way to turn without a second’s hesitation. I followed with the smell of sulfur tickling my nose.
In most places, the floor of the tunnels was smooth, worn down by passing feet. Here and there, though, a particularly stubborn ridge had resisted. I caught one of my awkward human feet on one and stumbled.
Jerrik caught my arm to steady me. His fingers slid against my skin as he released me, and one of those distracting tingles raced through my chest.
“I’m still adjusting to this body,” I said, feeling the need to justify my clumsiness. “I only ever lived in raven form until yesterday.” At least
, I assumed that was yesterday now. I was used to forgoing sleep now and then, but my head was starting to feel a bit muddled. Whether it was fatigue or the stress of this little excursion, it was hard to say.
“You look awfully grown up for an infant,” Jerrik remarked.
I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m eons older than you, elf. And I’ll live eons more.” I held out my hands, turning them as I studied them with a frown. “The human form has altogether too many parts.”
“Oh, but there are so many uses they can be put to,” Svend said from ahead of us in a singsong voice. Even though I could tell he was teasing, a flush coursed through me.
“Why don’t you slip back into your bird form then, Miss Raven?” Jerrik asked. “Like Freya with her falcon cloak, as I’ve heard it told.”
“I don’t have any cloak, as much as I wish I did,” I said. “I haven’t quite got the hang of the transitions yet. I only seem to shift when I’m in mortal danger.”
“That does sound inconvenient.”
I cut my gaze toward him, wondering if he was teasing now too, but his expression was mild. Almost friendly, for once, although he wasn’t looking at me right now but straight ahead. I had the unmarred side of his profile. His face seemed incomplete like that. Like someone else, someone I hadn’t actually met.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He glanced at me then, giving me the full view. There. That was Jerrik. The rapt attention in his clear blue eyes brought a strange flutter into my pulse. His hand shifted on the strap of the cloth bag he’d grabbed from his home—small but apparently enough to carry his few possessions.
“Sorry for what?” he said warily.
“Where do I start? I barged into your house, bled on your floor, disrupted whatever you’d been up to before I showed up—and now I’ve got you trekking across the realm on a mad caper.”
Something shifted in his expression, like a shadow lifting. The set of his mouth softened. “I don’t have to be here on this trek. I wouldn’t be if I didn’t think I might get a much better life out of it. If getting this opportunity took a little blood on my floor, I suppose I’ll forgive you that.”
