Kara pulled the last of the spikes from his limbs, and Baldr collapsed onto the ground.
“Find that fury, for should you not, this woman you are so apt to save will already be dead, and I have a strange feeling that this is what your friend Melqart waits upon—her sacrifice to Minerva. How great a sacrifice that will be—to see the blood of the one who stood up against Rome running down those streets.”
In Munin’s words, he could hear the voice of his father.
He was the son of Odin, who’d created their entire kingdom from the bones and blood of his enemies.
Slowly, Baldr rose, his skin now radiating a light he’d pushed down. He ripped off his tunic, revealing his carved out bare chest. Fury rumbled in his lungs. His muscles tensed. The air practically danced with excitement.
Chills coursed throughout his body from the bog myrtle. His teeth began to chatter. A purplish hue, the shade of elderberries, rose from his darkened fingertips up his arms, when he started to grunt and howl like a beast.
He took the weapon offered by Kara.
“What is happening?” he asked.
“Your wound, it is changing you. You grow into a frenzy.”
Rage wrapped around him like a warm bear pelt. Berserker!
“Just remember, I did not start this battle, Kara. I came here on good terms,” he said through clenched teeth, before he threw back his head and howled again.
“But you seek to end it?” Kara shot back up into the sky.
Baldr screamed, and blinding white light rained down from the heavens. His skin practically sizzled, but it didn’t burn. Gripping his sword, its blade hummed, radiating a bluish glow.
He pierced the veil, and moved through toward the sounds of battle. The Roman garrison was fully entrenched in slashing and stabbing the Carthaginians, while Melqart watched from his throne.
The drug that coursed through Baldr sought for him to rip everything apart that came his way, but he was no mortal, still controlling his reasoning in recognizing the enemy. Things spun around him, but all he thought about was her—he needed her to stay alive.
One by one, he gutted, stabbed, slashed, and eliminated his foe. His face drenched in their blood, he headed thicker into the crowd.
Nanna…Nanna…Nanna
In the alleyway, beneath the temple steps, he saw Minerva standing with her arms raised, blessing her troops as they continued to ravage.
“What will the pantheons say now that you have violated their treaty and spilled blood, the blood of subjects who do not belong to you?” A maniacal laugh escaped.
Baldr looked past her, though, and saw Nanna racing up the temple steps, as soldiers gave chase.
He moved left, then right to weave through the soldiers, ridding them of their lives as he continued forward, one by one, until only he and Minerva faced off.
“You’ll never reach her in time, and I will celebrate and behold your downfall with utter schadenfreude as you watch her die. Just as your past lover had to witness her son, your son’s demise.”
“My son!”
The fury spiked, and the angrier he became, the more difficult it remained to keep hold of why he was fighting. Nanna’s name began to slip away, replaced by that of his son, Foresti.
Livid, a murderous rage began to claw him from the inside, peeling away the weak hold he had on being rational. No one threatened his family, and no one hurt them. The rumbling spread in his chest.
The sun beat down on him and sweat trailed along his brow. He sucked in a breath, attempting to calm himself.
“This is as close to mortal as you will become,” Minerva said and appeared behind him. She kicked him in the back until he fell, only to roll back to his feet.
Now he faced her, and she twirled her spear, to then strike.
“I will make you pay for your dishonor,” Baldr threatened, barely containing his rage just beneath the surface.
Baldr picked up one of her soldiers by the throat, removed his sword, and tossed him at her.
“I will not kill you,” he said through clenched teeth, fighting back against the urge to kill them all, and burn the place to the ground.
“I shall not make that promise.” She smiled and struck out at him again, this time piercing his shoulder.
Her spear quickly morphed into a jagged sword.
“You do not heal as quickly as I thought one like you would—not instantaneously. What do you need to heal? But even more, what do I need to do to make you die?”
They parlayed, back and forth, metal striking metal. For every blow he landed, it healed. She was invincible.
She lashed out, slashing Baldr’s leg, forcing him to his knees.
“I shall make you bow, and then you will watch as she is killed before you, poor innocent Baldr.”
Nanna? He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, and if he had to sacrifice his innocence to save her, then he would.
Again, she slashed and stabbed him with the tip of her blade.
“Let’s see if that pretty head detaching from your body gives me what I want.”
Waves of light filled him. His skin prickled and illuminated until it burned with white light more potent than that of the sun.
“Ah,” he screamed, and all reasoning disappeared.
He waited for her to move in, and then reached out and took hold of the metal, bending it within his grasp. It no longer cut, now a useless tool.
Minerva’s smile faltered.
She took a step back and dropped her weapons.
“Surely, you know this was just done in jest. Even your son knew how to behave and kneel.”
Kara came and landed at Baldr’s side. “You will show mercy as not to break our treaty.”
Each step he took heated the sand to make glass. The fury of the berserker mixed with that of light, as reasoning changed to full rage. “You shall pay for what you have done to my son.”
“Your son lives,” Minerva cooed. “Those were the entrails of one of my sacrifices. But they did get your attention. I know you’ve missed me.”
Taking his sword, he ran her through.
“It is not enough to kill you, Minerva,” he spat.
“No, my love. It is just a scratch.” She panted while a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of her crimson-shaded lips.
Kara moved in and removed the thin silk chain from Minerva’s possession, and quickly bound her so that she could not move. “Woah, Baldr. I will take her back to Asgard to be judged by Odin, but you should instead go”—She pointed to the hilltop—“or all of Carthage will fall.”
Baldr rushed toward the Temple area, where the high priest had begun the rites for the human sacrifices. The temple area was filled with pious spectators, who prayed that this offering would stop the scourge of the invasion. Many looked on as the priest then led a child to the sacrificial altar—first to have the holy tablet sprinkled with fresh blood, and then to the waiting roaring fire.
Behind the priest, even more wood was being tossed into the flames. Death by fire for anyone would be worse than torture.
And Baldr knew that no matter how much they prayed, Melqart would not intervene.
Several armed temple guards protected the priests.
Honor or life? How was he to choose?
Life! Honor was empty if it didn’t care about the lives of those in Midgard. Even if these people did not carry the Nordic tattoos, he would answer and save them from the torture their unfaithful gods had in store for them.
“Move before I move you,” he demanded, approaching the armed men. “Melqart is not here to help you—I am, but you must allow me to pass.”
The temple guards turned one to the other and looked for direction from the priest.
“If you do not stop this, a great terror will occur, and these innocents will die for no reason.”
“But the streets must run red, that is the only way,” the old priest said. He moved over and grabbed the infant from the shaking wet nurse, and again, began to utte
r the rites.”
Baldr stretched out his hand, and the energy he’d absorbed shot from him, causing the surrounding men and women to fall in slow motion. As they tumbled backward, he swooped in and took the child from the priest’s arms. Tonight, no child shall die.
As if on cue, Loki appeared.
“What finds you here?” Baldr asked. “I could have used some of your assistance.”
“You had it all under control.” Loki glanced around. “But I must warn you, Melqart will not take kindly to this. What will you do with these children? What of these men and women?”
Baldr paused to consider his options. He’d already disregarded the treaty by poaching the children, what would it matter if he also took all of those allied with her, from the wet nurses to the great soldiers? Surely, he could find a place for them to hide until he figured something out. He quickly counted thirty-five. He’d have to hide thirty-five humans in Asgard. If anyone could do it, it would be Loki.
He glanced around as the children sat in a circle, and he remembered the dream. “Take them to Asgard, to Dragon’s Mountain, and hide them there.”
“They will be easily found. They will never get through with Heimdall being tattooed with the Phoenician symbol.”
“I’ve prepared for that.” Baldr removed a vial filled with red liquid from his pocket. “Make sure that they each take a drop of this—no more, no less, then open the portal and send them through.”
“And what will happen?”
“They will become blood of my blood.”
Loki nodded and headed off.
“And, Loki?”
Loki paused, then asked, “Yes?”
“Despite what the future may bring, thank you for this. Plus, we must save them all, as when Minerva comes to, she will be more than infuriated, she’ll demand revenge.”
“Hard to do that from the inside of a jail cell.”
Loki nodded his head and began to tend to the children, wet nurses, and Nanna’s elite team, then Baldr rushed in the direction of the ringing sounds of swords clashing.
Chapter 12
Loki
High in the mountains of Asgard
At the mouth of the dark cave, high in the mountains, the children waited for Loki to return to the cave’s entrance to beckon them further inside, as he promised them he’d do. Heimdall had allowed them entry after scanning them and having found Baldr’s blood coursing through their veins. Loki moved throughout the cave, which had been made to accommodate the children—it wasn’t just cold bare walls, as he’d expected, but instead, modern comfort that rivaled even that of Asgard.
This change granted them entry into where most Midgardians had never stepped foot.
“Come,” Loki said, and waved them inside. “Your father will be here soon.” Loki looked to their questioning faces. “Yes, you now carry his blood and are his children.”
“But those others—will they come for us?” A young girl of no more than five asked. Loki could see her fear. She made him think of when his own daughter had been that age, and small, so long, long ago.
“You mustn’t worry. Here, you are safe, but I fear a genetic transformation must take place over the next few days to change you into what the gods need you to be, or rather, what I need you to be.” Loki removed another vial, but this one contained a liquid, green in color.
“What is that?” the young girl asked. She must have been the spokesperson for them all.
“It is to ensure that you can remain here, little girl.”
To each of the children, he walked and gave them three drops of the vial’s contents, enough to hopefully dilute Baldr’s sufficient contribution. These children would be the walkers of light and darkness, and a useful tool for later on.
After they’d emptied the vial, Loki walked them all back toward a larger area in the cave, waved his hand, and a portal of a different kind appeared.
“Until things settle down, you are to hide here as the others will be looking for you. This place is safe, a place within a place, where even the All-Father cannot see you. It is the Ether, where dragons shall rule.”
“Dragons? We aren’t dragons.”
“But you shall become dragons, beautiful and mighty dragons that no one shall ever take for granted. Even more, you shall one day rule, for your strength and vitality will ensure that this kingdom will not fall.”
“You are stripping us of our humanity?” the little girl asked.
“No, I am saving you from it. The gods plan to play a horrible game with the people of Midgard, and I know you might not understand it now, but it is to save you from a fate worse than what Melqart had in store for you. You, dear children, will never be beasts or scary monsters, but treasured and wonderful, powerful souls who will guard this magnificent kingdom until the end of time.”
“And what of our father?”
“He must prepare this place for you, and I will act as your uncle and trainer, helping you to become what you truly are: magnificent dragons.”
There was no issue of if they would be able to shift between humanity and beast, no questions as to what might happen to them. Instead, these orphans had been saved from death, and as Loki smiled upon them and promised them a life filled with great and mighty moments, he won them over.
This would be the beginning of the dragons rising, and the fall of Asgard.
Chapter 13
The Norns
The Norns sat on the roots of the ash tree, their heads bent over their hands as they carved in the intricate details of fate.
“Now, wasn’t that an interesting twist?” Verdandi smiled and nodded. She held up her runic-carved stick to show the others before placing it on Yggdrasil’s bark and watching it as it was absorbed into the tree’s bark.
“Yes, yes, this will do.” Urd tilted her head and looked at her handy work, too. “This will do nicely.” She, too, placed her finished carving into the tree.
Verdandi stood to stretch her legs and stared at the tree trunk filled with shapes, runes, and sketches of all sizes. “It was a great idea to give Loki Ymir’s blood,” she said to Urd, “as that will guarantee the transformation and that the battle to rule can begin.”
“Yes, yes, sometimes even I can outdo myself.” She snickered.
Skuld nodded in agreement and placed her carved bark against the tree until it, too, was absorbed. “Surely, the game of the gods will be an interesting feat to watch and see who will occupy that empty seat in the council, but even more, what shall become of the dragons?”
Skuld, too, rose from her perch on the roots and walked over to where her two sisters stood to eye the tree. “Baldr’s son remains hidden, and safe, as even the likes of Minerva shall not undo our plan for him, as he has a destiny to fulfill.”
With the latest carvings in place, the three new carvings then began to glow, illuminating the carvings one by one until the base of the tree lit up, revealing the numerous carvings of varying shapes, sizes, and even in runes.
Verdandi pointed. “The dragons will cause even more magical creatures to come forth, and magic will be born again in Midgard; magic will exist in all of the realms. Everything must fall for the truth to rise again.”
“And with magic now in the realm, the son’s role will be imperative,” Skuld said.
The three Norns silently agreed and turned to walk back toward the prophetic well. It was time to once again water the tree and feed from the water’s magic before they again could begin to carve out the fates of all on the tree.
The destinies of men and gods awaited.
Chapter 14
Baldr
Across the temple’s entryway, the desert sands blew, and under the hot sun the swords of Carthaginians fighting back against the Roman invasion reflected light as if a god was present. Steel clanged against steel, while men and women fought in the streets.
Sweat dripped down Nanna’s heart-shaped face, and she blew her reddish hair out of her eyes. How much was enough? He could see it etched
on her face: her pain. They would exile her father; they had killed her grandfather and now sought to erase her from history.
They will die.
The god beneath called out just under his skin. It whispered to him, called him deeper into something that should have been foreign.
“Melqart, save us,” Nanna shouted for help.
Instead, Baldr passed through the veil, opening it beside her, grabbed Nanna’s hand and squeezed it, just as his heart hiccupped as it always did when she was near.
In their dreams, something had sparked between them, like she’d carved her name on his heart.
How was it possible to just meet her, and love her instantly? He loved her for her strength, and her courage to stand up for what was right. Time would cause the seed to sprout and grow, until something between them might blossom, but just as he’d lived and experienced months of dreams with her, he hoped to now experience life.
The only thing these soldiers might see was a damsel in distress. But oh, how they underestimated her, and him, god and protector. Nothing would befall her.
He saw the moment of recognition in her eyes, and her fear eased.
When he’d arrived, he’d watched her race ever higher away to seek higher ground, but now, standing here, things had changed. Baldr smiled at that, as only mere minutes had passed for them.
And now, instead of being a weakling like Melqart had expected, he’d arrived stronger. She would not perish today.
The Roman soldiers in their crimson-colored tunics converged at the temple, and there she patiently stood, perfectly poised and ready to strike. But this time not alone, for Baldr stood beside her. His sword was drawn and ready, too.
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