“No! Maggie!” Heimdall screamed as he lifted his sword and pointed it directly at Utra. Her image wavered through his tears, but there was no mistaking her laughter as she made a dismissive gesture and turned her back on him to bear down on Sally.
“You insufferable bitch!” He yelled every curse and expletive he could think of. Then he saw the bodies of the Fenris Wolf and his sister, Saga, lying still on the ground, and his voice was gone.
He would kill her. Though it meant sacrificing any hope of Maggie’s return, he would strike Utra down in her current flesh. He would stalk her across the snow and prevent her from taking any more life. For the sake of his remaining kin, for the Rune Witch and for the ignorant and innocent people of Midgard, he would drive his sword into Maggie’s heart to kill Utra. He would kill her, and he didn’t care what happened to himself after.
His sword was steady as he strode forward. The final battle had destroyed his household and his family. It was the literal end of the world with fire and brimstone being hurled down from the sky. He didn’t feint left or right as Utra’s followers turned his way and rushed at him. He struck each down easily, slicing through red robes and flesh and muscle with barely a thought to the mortal lives he was ending. Maybe, perhaps even just moments from now, he and Maggie would feast together in Valhalla. He’d even wolf down an entire platter of her gods-awful Spam jelly casserole or her onion-marshmallow surprise, and he’d enjoy it.
“Heimdall! No!” Freya rushed toward him. She grabbed at his hands and tried to wrestle his sword away. He pushed and shoved at her, but his Vanir cousin was strong and tenacious.
“Why are you trying to stop me?” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Let me finish this. For all our sakes.”
Freya wrapped her arms around him and lifted her mouth to his ear. “It was her choice.”
Heimdall felt his guts turn to ice. If Utra had any designs on crawling back into his heart while wearing Maggie’s body, she was even more deranged than he’d realized.
“I don’t care what Utra wants.” He tried to shake Freya off, but she held tight.
“This is how Maggie wanted it to happen.”
Heimdall turned to look at Freya. She had to have misspoken. He had to have misheard her. Maggie wouldn’t have chosen to give Utra this vessel. Unless.
His arms went limp as he lowered his sword. “To protect Opal. And Sally.”
Freya let him go and stepped back. “We have to help her now. Sally needs us.”
Heimdall didn’t entirely understand, but he knew in his bones that she was right. If there was any hope for Midgard, it would rest in the hands of the human wielder of immortal magick. Freya dashed forward over the bloody, soot-streaked snow, and Heimdall followed.
Sally was on her knees in the snow. She cradled Opal’s head in her lap, but she couldn’t get her friend to wake up. Everyone around her was screaming, and it took a few jagged breaths for her to realize that her own voice was part of the shrieking mayhem.
She forced herself to close her mouth and take a deep, quiet breath. It wasn’t easy when she was also having to bat away weird snake things bursting up from the soil beside her. A shuffling corpse lurched toward her and took an ungainly swipe at her head and then collapsed into a pile of dusty bones in the snow.
Around the field lay the bodies of Fenrir, Saga, Skuld, and countless members of the Valkyries, Einherjar, and Suleiman’s Spiral. Behind her, the Yggdrasil was battered and burnt and looking like it might splinter apart.
Sally cried. It was an entirely unconstructive response and she felt stupid for it. Her tears weren’t going to solve anything or contain any of the chaos that was raging all around her. It was the end of the world, and she was scared.
There wasn’t anything in any of the legends or histories she’d read about the role of the Rune Witch at the battle of Ragnarok. But there’d never been anything written about a Rune Witch made of chaos, either. She’d convinced herself that only she could make a real difference, and that she was the only one who could save the world and all of the realms connected to the World Tree. But so far she’d managed to accomplish exactly nothing.
Loki was dead, his body turned to tarry ash in the snow. His son, Fenrir, had given himself in a senseless death to protect her. The same for Saga. It was the end of history, and with one of the Norns dead, too, wasn’t it also the end of any possible future? Zach was probably already dead, and if the chaos at the Lodge was any indication of what was breaking loose the world over, her parents wouldn’t be faring much better.
Sally hunched over Opal and waited for a blast of fire from one of the dragons in the sky to take her out. Or maybe one of the ground snakes would strangle her. But only if Utra didn’t get to her first.
“Giving up already?” It was Maggie’s voice, but the tone was malicious. Sharper than any criticism Maggie had ever hurled at Sally. As much animosity as Maggie had shown her, Sally never truly believed Maggie meant her any harm. Sally had expected a showdown with Maggie eventually, but she hadn’t imagined it would be in the middle of Ragnarok with another deranged goddess wearing Maggie’s skin.
Sally looked up into the familiar face as Utra stood just out of reach. She was playing again with sparking chaos magick, forming it like a ball of light that she passed from one hand to the other as she grew and shaped it. Sally felt her own magick prickle in response.
Dragons shrieked overhead and desiccated corpses moaned nearby. Sally’s jacket was pockmarked with burn holes from the acid hailstones, and she had welts in both palms from picking poisonous frogs out of her hair. A tight collection of Utra’s followers still chanted their nonsense syllables behind Utra and stared at Sally with frightening intensity. And there was a deep, lower wail that trembled in the ground beneath her. Sally assumed it was the Earth itself keening.
“I can take your power from you, and it will hurt. A lot.” Utra didn’t try to hide her smile. It was Ragnarok and she was enjoying herself way too much. She didn’t flinch when the purple body of a giant beetle erupted up through the snow almost directly beneath her feet. She stomped on its chitinous head with a sickening crunch and went back to playing with her sphere of chaos. Sally knew it was meant for her.
“Or you could just give your power to me.” Utra nodded toward the black stain in the snow that had once been Loki. Sally’s jaw clenched. Loki had died trying to safeguard his magick from Utra. Sally didn’t know how Utra had managed to circumvent the barrier of his circle when she herself hadn’t been able to break through. Even after years of practice, there was so much about magick in general and chaos in particular that she didn’t understand. Now, she’d probably never get the chance.
“It’s up to you, though I imagine it will be unpleasant either way.” Utra glanced toward the sky. Dark smoke rose from the Lodge toward steel gray clouds. Thunder started rumbling again, but there was no lightning. “I’d suggest you make up your mind quickly.”
At least Utra didn’t promise to spare Sally’s friends or her city in exchange for her cooperation. Those words would have been empty anyway. Sally wiped at the tears and snot on her face as more screams sounded around the field. She just wanted it to be over.
Sally lowered Opal’s head onto the snow. Her legs were nearly numb and she was slow in getting to her feet. But she stood as tall as she could, and she faced Utra directly.
“Sally, don’t! Just hold on!” Freya came rushing toward her, with Heimdall swinging his sword behind her and taking out some of Utra’s sorcerers.
“I need to finish this!” Sally shouted back. She didn’t like the tremble in her voice, though Utra seemed positively delighted.
“You need to wait,” Freyr’s voice whispered in Sally’s ear. She glanced around but he was nowhere to be found.
“You’ve decided. Good.” Utra held her ball of chaos in front of her like she was offering up a magick softball. Sally rolled her shoulders back and prepared for Utra’s blow. Her hands sparked painfully at her sides, and she wa
s careful to hold her arms still. She didn’t want to telegraph to Utra that she would try to strike first.
Freya was out of breath when she reached Sally’s side. “We have to do this together.”
Sally tried to push Freya away, but she wouldn’t budge. Didn’t she understand that Sally was trying to protect her? Hadn’t there been enough death already? Sally felt the chaos building inside her. It wanted to be let out. It wanted to strike, and that scared her. Sally didn’t know how much power she’d absorbed from the lightning storm, but she’d already been strong even before this latest influx of chaos. If Sally didn’t have enough strength to withstand Utra and all of the magick she’d stolen from Loki, then what hope did Freya have?
Her fingers twitched with pulsing surges of static flowing from her chest and down her arms. She didn’t know if she could strike Utra without killing her—and killing Maggie. Or maybe her magick would be completely ineffective, just a pretty show of fireworks at the end of the world. Any shot she took at Utra would seal all of their fates.
She was too late. With a scream of rage, Utra hurled her ball of light at Sally, but a quick shove from Freya sent Sally stumbling backward. Freya cried out as Utra’s blow caught her in the ribs and back, and she fell in the snow at Sally’s feet.
Freya grimaced as Sally leaned over her. “Just like Managarm. Like Badbh in Ireland. You need an immortal to focus your strength.”
Sally stopped herself from hurling back an instinctive, petulant remark about how Loki’s heir didn’t need anybody. The wind picked up again without warning and carried what felt like hundreds of shards of glass over the surface of Sally’s exposed skin. She shrieked and turned away, but it was coming from all directions. The wind fell suddenly still again, and when Sally pressed her fingers against her abraded face, there wasn’t any blood.
The field was a highly kinetic version of someone’s crazy, surreal nightmare. Utra was laughing and building another energy ball. Red and purple beetles attacked the lurching corpses and leaping technicolor frogs. Sally wheeled around when she heard what sounded like machine-gun fire. An army of tiny creatures that looked like butterflies with jackhammers descended onto the limbs of the Yggdrasil and went about the noisy business of trying to dismantle the World Tree.
“Okay. Whatever.” Sally reached down and helped Freya back to her feet. She was none too gentle about it. There was no time. Ragnarok would rage on no matter what she did.
Behind Utra, a dozen men in robes circled around Heimdall and focused their chanting on him. He lunged and swung at them, but they dodged his blade and pulled their own weapons—what looked like kitchen knives and short lengths of pipe—from the folds of their robes. He was distracting the Spiralists, diverting the protection their chanting was providing to Utra. He was outnumbered but looked like he could hold his own for at least a few minutes longer, until a swarm of snake-creatures hove up from the ground and went after Norse god and mortal sorcerer alike.
That’s when Sally understood. Fenrir and Saga had sacrificed themselves to weaken Utra. The shift from Opal’s body into Maggie’s had drained the Morning Star’s magick even further, and had spared Opal’s life in the process. Everything her friends had done had been to chip away at Utra’s strength and make her slightly more vulnerable to Sally’s assault. And now Sally needed Freya beside her to finish it.
Freya planted her feet in the snow and stood shoulder to shoulder with Sally. Sally tucked one arm around Freya’s waist to help hold her up. With a collective breath, they lifted their free arms to target Utra.
“On the count of three,” Sally said. Freya nodded beside her. It was a simple thing when they came to it. Sally felt their breath and their heartbeats in synch. It felt familiar and good, even though they were about to strike a killing blow. Without understanding how she was doing it, Sally shared her magick with Freya through touch, and she felt her sparking chaos blend with Freya’s steady concentration. The static no longer prickled or hurt, but it still roiled.
Utra was still shaping the energy in her hands. Sally wondered if she knew what was coming. The first combined blast lifted Utra off her feet and hurled her backward into the scrum of sorcerers who were trying to take down Heimdall. Sally and Freya inhaled together as their shared magick churned to recharge.
Her energy scattered, Utra’s face darkened with irritated rage as she scrambled to her feet. She started building another ball of energy, but a second blast from Sally and Freya sent her to her knees in the snow. Utra’s furious howls didn’t stop the dragons or the beetles or the destructive butterflies trying to make magickal firewood out of the Yggdrasil.
“Again,” Freya hissed through her teeth. Sally was bearing nearly all of Freya’s weight now, and she was feeling dizzy from expending so much magick. Her heart strained in her chest, but she fought to keep her breathing even and matched with Freya’s.
“You can do this,” Freyr’s disembodied voice whispered again in her ear. “For all the marbles.”
Sally exhaled a silent apology to Heimdall for what they were about to do. The magick rose up from her feet and ripped through her like burning ice. The world went white with the intensity of their final blast, and Sally felt Freya go limp. Sally was dragged to her knees by Freya’s weight, and she blinked furiously to clear the white spots from her burnt retinas. Slowly the world around her took shape again.
Utra lay on her back in the snow. Her entire torso was charred black and sizzled and smoked with ungrounded static. Streaks of lightning burst upward out of her body and into the clouds above. Her unseeing eyes stared up at the dragons that still flew overheard and rained down fire and brimstone.
Sally screamed as Ragnarok raged on. Snakes slithered and strangled more men in robes. Ungainly sacks of old bones stuttered across the snow and got knocked over by rampaging beetles. Acid hail fell all around her, and her ears filled with the rending shriek of living wood as one massive branch of the Yggdrasil fell to the ground.
15
Everything was dark after the loud crash outside the door. There hadn’t been too much light inside the pantry since the power had gone out, but there was still a glow coming from beneath the door. There had been so much shouting and crashing outside in the kitchen, and now everything was quiet.
Maksim heard Zach breathing, but when he whispered to him, he got no reply. Laika sniffed at Zach and whimpered. Maksim knew Zach was injured and that he needed help.
He shifted Baron the cat off of his lap and crawled across the floor. He pressed his ear to the door. “Bonnie? Is it okay to come out now?”
He heard running water on the other side of the door. There were some shouts and loud sounds from outside the house, but that all sounded so far away. Maksim got to his feet and turned the doorknob.
Bonnie slumped into the pantry as he pulled the door open. Her sword fell out of her hand and clanged to the floor.
“Bonnie?” Maksim patted her shoulder, and she moaned a little. That was better than silence. Her face was streaked with black and her clothing was torn. Little wisps of smoke curled up from the back of her sweater.
Maksim looked around. Was there a fire? He didn’t recognize what had been the kitchen. Half the ceiling was gone and he could see dark clouds through the jagged, gaping hole where the outside wall had been. Broad, splintered beams stuck out of the ceiling at sharp angles, and the floor was covered in chunks of plaster and wood. Jets of water shot up from the debris near what had been the wall.
He could hear the battle still raging outside.
“Thor?” Maksim coughed on the dust in the air. Laika poked her head out of the pantry and started climbing over the debris and sniffing for survivors. She whined and started pawing at a pile of plaster. Maksim scrambled toward her to help uncover what she’d found, and he saw Thor’s boots in a gap below him.
“Thor!” Maksim cried, but there was no response, and the boots didn’t move. He and Laika worked together to free the big god. In the pantry threshold, Baron per
ched on Bonnie’s hip and watched. But the big pieces of plaster were too heavy for Maksim’s little fingers and Laika’s agile paws and snout.
“Get back, Laika,” Maksim said. “I have an idea.”
The wolf-dog clambered down to stand next to him, and Maksim pushed up his sleeves. He stretched his arms out in front of him and squeezed his eyes tight. He’d never tried to use his magick to do anything important before, and he wished with all his might that Thor could be free.
He heard a great creaking sound and worried that the rest of the ceiling was about to cave in on him. On instinct, Maksim grabbed the fur at Laika’s neck and stumbled backward. His eyes widened when he saw Thor lying in front of him. The big god was white with dust but was free of the beams and the plaster debris.
Had his magick done this? Maksim looked at his hands. They didn’t appear any different.
Laika pounced on Thor’s back and yipped in his ear, but Thor didn’t wake. Maksim shouted his name a few times, but Thor still didn’t stir. Maksim hadn’t thought that gods could die, but he’d thought the same about his parents. These frantic days were teaching him a lot of lessons he didn’t want to learn. He could see that Thor was breathing at least, and he felt a little better. Maksim heard a low moan from the center of the kitchen, and he used his magick again to remove more debris. He uncovered Rod, injured and bleeding but still alive.
Loud shrieks and deep wails erupted outside. Maksim knew the battle wasn’t his fault, but he’d somehow played a part in starting it. He looked at Bonnie unconscious on the floor. Shifting his weight on Bonnie’s hip, Baron stared back at him and took a moment to clean his paws. Maksim tried rousing Thor again, but it was no use, and Rod was also too hurt to respond.
Maksim willed himself not to cry. Laika nudged his hands with her nose, and he thought he understood. He could use his magick to help.
Twilight Magic (Rune Witch Book 6) Page 23
