I knew my chosen one would feel hot or tingle or something .
Fen crouched next to me. “I think it’s no surprise that you would find your weapon in this chest.” His presence comforted me, as always.
I smiled at him. “Why’s that?” I asked as I discarded some sort of swinging cudgel with a big loopy chain. It made lots of clanging noise as I added it to the growing pile.
“Because,” Ingrid answered first, “Tyr is your brother and these are his weapons. As the god of war, he would have some doozies in his arsenal, and sometimes gene pool trumps everything.”
“I wasn’t sure your weapon would be here,” Tyr agreed, his voice deep and steady, “but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. Plus, we’re going to need these weapons once the mission starts.” He referred to our upcoming trip to Svartalfheim to find my mother, where she had been trapped for years. “When I was young, I found my weapons among this arsenal as well.” He nodded down at the chest. My brother could call up at least five weapons at any time. They flew right into his outstretched hand. Coolest thing ever .
As I neared the bottom, my breath caught.
“What?” Sam cried. “Which one is it? Is it that funny-looking sword or the awesome spear? I can’t stand the suspense! Hurry up!”
“Neither,” I answered, pushing aside the bigger weapons, making my way to the bottom where a tattered leather scabbard lay. It was about three feet long and well worn.
I lifted the thing out, my fingers hot, the weapon feeling electric under my grip.
The straps snagged on another weapon, and I had to patiently free them, my intake of breath increasing as the anticipation rose. The scabbard looked as though it was meant to be strapped on my back. Two beautifully carved handles made of dark onyx stuck out of each end. My hands tingled as they cupped the broken-in leather, almost like when I touched Yggdrasil to feed, but different.
I brought it out as ceremoniously as I could. The weapon demanded reverence, and I was ready to give it.
“That old thing?” Sam asked, skepticism in her voice. “Really?”
Once it was out, Tyr exhaled sharply, and Fen made a noise that sounded like a cough.
I tried to read their faces. Ingrid’s appeared semishocked. “What?” I asked. “You guys are freaking me out!” I held the weapon in my open palms, like an offering, not knowing what else to do with it. “What is this thing? It’s vibrating my entire body. My heart is literally beating in tandem to the currents of electricity pulsing through me. It’s the strangest feeling.”
Fen answered first. “If I’m correct, that is Gundren, sister to Gungnir, both crafted for Odin and extremely powerful.”
Tyr nodded gravely. “Both weapons were made for our father many years ago,” he told me, clearing his throat. “Gungnir never leaves Odin’s side. The spear has true aim and always kills. Odin’s runes are carved into the side of his spear”—he nodded at the scabbard—“just as you see there on the handles of those swords. The runes make the weapons even more powerful.”
“Why would Odin’s sword be here?” I asked Tyr, confused. “Shouldn’t it be with him?”
“Swords,” Tyr corrected. “There are two nestled together, one at each end. The blades are slightly curved and extremely deadly. You are to wear the scabbard on your back and reach around”—he mimicked one hand over one shoulder and one arm around his lower back—“releasing both to fight at once.” Then his facial expression changed to something I couldn’t read. “I do not know why it is here. I didn’t request this weapon to be added to the arsenal, nor would it have been granted to me if I had. In fact, if the commonwealth of Asgard knew Gundren was out of the realm, where someone could steal it, there would be riots. Those blades will cut through any hide, the blow lethal to any creature, wherever it lands, in all Nine Worlds. This is Odin’s personal weapon.”
“Okay.” I had no idea what else to say. It was a lot to take in.
Ingrid leaned over, peering into the chest. “It was at the bottom, covered by the others.” She grinned, crossing her brawny arms in front of her, her breastplate shining. “Odin is sneaky, I’ll give him that.” She met my gaze. “There’s no doubt he stuck Gundren in there himself. He wants you to survive at all costs, Phoebe, and that’s a very good thing. You’ll need those swords, especially when we descend into Svartalfheim. They will deflect dark elf magic.” Her eyes gleamed. “Those little suckers have it coming. Can’t wait to see their faces.”
“The boatman who delivered these weapons,” Tyr said as I stood, the scabbard still outstretched in my hands, “also told me to expect something to arrive in the next few days, but he would not elaborate. He is one of Odin’s closest advisers.”
“How…how do I put this on?” I tried to control my shaking, but it was difficult. Little eddies of energy swirled inside me, mixed with excitement, making me feel like a kid who’d just opened the best gift ever. Ingrid had been right.
Fen grinned. “Hand me the weapon and turn around.” I complied, although it was tough to actually let the swords go. My body bucked at the separation, and a prick of physical pain winced through me. Once I had my back to him, Fen leaned over my shoulder and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek. Thoughts about what we did last night crept into my mind. I blushed. The man was passion personified. Having him this near gave me goose bumps on top of my already-hyped adrenaline.
“Good grief, you two,” Sam joked. “Is there ever a time when you’re not swooning over each other? I’d gag if it wasn’t so damn cute.”
I chuckled as Fen untangled the straps. “Hold out your left arm.”
I did, and he slipped one strap over my shoulder. Electricity rushed through me. I closed my eyes to drink it in.
“Now turn around, and I’ll slide it over your other shoulder.”
Once it was on, I straightened.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
I didn’t have words for how my body felt.
Invincible, electric, powerful, strong.
Gundren had its own current, and once again, it flowed in harmony with the blood pumping through my veins.
“It should feel like a million bucks,” Ingrid cracked. “Like the weapon is a part of you, an extension of your limbs. Just go with it, don’t force anything.” She placed her hands out in front of her. “Drink in the moment.”
I nodded as I moved toward a hay bale. I was too overcome to speak.
Needing to feel the dark onyx in my hands, I stopped, and without knowing exactly what I was going to do, I reached around with both hands, one over my shoulder and one around my right side, and clasped the sword hilts simultaneously, drawing them out quickly.
As they left the scabbard, they made a zinging noise.
There was no sweeter sound.
The hilts melded into my hands, like oil coating a pan. The weapon felt like an extension of my body.
As I lashed them both into the bale of hay, one from each side, making a solid X, I noticed how thin the blades were, slightly curved and wicked sharp.
The bale broke neatly into four triangles and fell to the ground. Not one errant piece of straw flew anywhere. The effort it took to make mincemeat out of the bale was equivalent to sliding a warm knife through a stick of butter.
I stood there, stunned. Holy crap!
“Well,” Ingrid chuckled, coming up behind me, “that’s one way to do it. That pile of hay never saw it coming.” She kicked one of the triangles, and it tumbled over.
“That was incredible, Phoebe!” Sam exclaimed. “You were so fast. I didn’t even register it until I saw the bale break apart like it was your bitch . You know, I’m beginning to rethink those swords. Maybe you did get the best of the bunch.”
I snorted, bringing the blades in front of me to inspect them. Best was an understatement.
The two swords were identical in every way. The steel was two inches across at the widest. The metal was extremely thin, not more than a few millimeters thick. The blades had matching elegant cu
rves midway up, and they glinted sharply in the sun.
I knew if I ran a hand over either of the edges, it would cut to the bone. They were deadly weapons. The polar opposite of the ninny pickax.
A noise interrupted my reverie, and I turned to look. I was surprised to see a crowd of Valkyries had amassed. It was the first time they’d come into our tiny training area. I’d been introduced to most of them, but none had chosen to interact with me yet.
Ragnhild, the battle captain, stood slightly in front of the group, her arms crossed. Her jet-black hair was shaved on the sides, plaited on top in intricate braids woven together, ending in a fall of dark waves which flowed freely down her back. She stood taller than all other Valkyries, and that was saying something, since the average height of a shieldmaiden was almost six feet. She nodded once and stated boldly, “You will join us in the Park tomorrow at dawn.”
The Park was the area where the Valkyries trained.
She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she walked away, the other shieldmaidens trailing behind her, some giving me tentative smiles, others cold glares. Once they were gone, I said, “Well, that was unexpected.”
Ingrid clasped me on the back. “Way to go, Phoebe!” she said. “Rae is a hard nut to crack. Do you know her name actually translates to adviser in battle ? I mean, with a name like that, there’s no denying your fate. And her weapon is a lethal katana. It’s a good thing she didn’t want to become a gardener. Lucky for us, too, since she’s the fiercest commander we’ve had since Brynhildr, but that’s a story for another day. Come on, let’s see what else you can do with those things.” She led me toward the edge of our training area.
I brought the blades in front of me, and my brother whistled low, causing me to glance his way.
“Those weapons even make me envious,” he said, his mouth going up slightly on one side. “Only Gungnir comes close to those in beauty and grace.”
I had a thought. “Do you think Odin will want them back when we’re done with the mission?” My heart pinged. I didn’t want to relinquish them. Ever.
“No,” Tyr stated evenly. His voice held certainty, and I let myself breathe. “Those swords have clearly changed their allegiance. Once given as a gift, if they find the host agreeable, a magical weapon stays true. If some other picked those up”—he gestured to my blades—“and Gundren did not agree, they would not work to the same capacity. You are safe.”
I sighed, relief filling me. “Great.”
Fen stood behind us. “Your father chose well,” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Fen wasn’t a fan of my father, which was understandable since Odin had been the one to toss him into Muspelheim, a place Fen had been jailed for more years than I could fully comprehend. It didn’t help that Fen had been slated to kill Odin during Ragnarok, the fated battle between the gods. I’d never met my birth father, so I had no idea what he was like. I imagined him to be fierce and intimidating, with a big beard and a stern demeanor. I had no idea why I thought he had a beard. No one had said anything, but that’s just what popped into my head. Meeting him was going to be beyond weird. Fen cracked, “It seems Odin wants you to live after all.”
“Yes, that appears to be true,” I replied. The two of us had had many debates about what Odin’s true intentions were in all this. We’d thought, on different occasions, that Odin was both actively trying to aid me and not interested in helping at all. Our late-night pillow talk revolved around whether Odin sought to protect himself in the eyes of the Norns or really wanted me to survive. After all, he was the god of gods. It made sense that he could step in if he wanted to. But he hadn’t. “Like we’ve said all along, if Odin wanted to, he could go free my mom, or swoop down and bring me up to Asgard until all this blows over with the Norns. But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for Gundren, because I am. It was nice that he sent it.” It made me feel like he cared.
Tyr shook his head. “He can’t do either.”
“Why not?” I raised my eyebrows. “He’s Odin. He’s the leader of gods. Why can’t he help us?” I’d tried to ask Tyr about this before, but every time I’d broached the subject, he was suddenly busy with another task.
He exhaled, taking his time to answer. I could tell he was reluctant to speak about it, like if he did, he would betray some sacred trust. Tyr had his own way of talking, and much of it was in the form of long sighs. “He must save his interfering until the last possible second. Right now, he’s trying to garner formal support for your cause from other gods and goddesses. As I’ve told you, he cannot kill the Norns outright. It is forbidden. Because he’d kept you a secret for twenty-four years, he has to justify his reasons for doing so. It’s a tall order. There will be challenges, and he must contend with them. If he fails to garner any support for you and your mother, everything crumbles.”
“What do you mean by crumbles , exactly? That sounds kind of hopeless.”
Tyr scrubbed his hand over his face, looking tired. “Some gods or goddesses are challenging his authority. It’s common practice after finding out a god has lied or killed someone he or she shouldn’t have. Keeping a secret like this is considered a big infraction. Many will be angry, and many fear the Norns. If he cannot find the support, you will be exiled, or worse.”
Well, that was dire news. “So, he’s going to court to defend me?”
“Something like that.” Tyr nodded. “The Council is similar to a Midgard court, but it has its own rules, and all the gods and goddess in attendance decide judgment. The room is grand and round, and the speaker must stand in the middle and address the attendees, who sit higher up. If he can succeed in exonerating himself for keeping such a secret, he can gain allies, which is what he will need to save you from the Norns and their wrath. It is no easy task. So thus, he cannot leave the realm.”
I positioned my legs apart and raised my swords. “So if he’s not successful, I will be banished or worse?” I eyed a pile of stacked tree trunks in front of us. They sat on top of a wooden beam that spanned two sawhorses. I was ready for the next task, especially after this conversation.
“Don’t worry about it, Phoebe,” Ingrid interjected, angling her head toward the logs to give me permission to have at them. “If anyone can convince a crowd, it’s Odin. Your dad had good reason to scuttle you and your mother away, and once the story comes out, they will see his side of things. I’m sure of it. Let’s shelve this discussion for later. The day is waning, and you need to keep training. If Rae wants you in the Park tomorrow at dawn, you can’t go in green. They will be expecting a Valkyrie to join them, not a greenhorn.”
I nodded. “Thanks for letting me know, Tyr. It helps to have all the information.” I rallied my concentration back to the task and took a deep breath. I positioned myself in front of the pile and swung my swords down, my right hand a little ahead of my left.
When Gundren collided with the wood, as with the hay, there was little resistance. The blades sliced right through. The kickback from my hands was almost nonexistent.
One second later I realized I was going too fast, the momentum too strong. I couldn’t pull back in time. My blades not only cut through the logs, but kept going through the wooden platform, and the entire pile crashed to the ground, sawhorses and all.
I jumped out of the way, yanking my swords up, and missed stabbing them into the ground by an inch. I stumbled backward, trying to regain my footing, panting heavily with the effort it had taken.
I glanced around, wild-eyed.
“That was impressive, bordering on manic.” Sam giggled. “I guess we could say the new swords are a success. It took you zero effort to heft through those logs, and they were huge. I’m pretty sure you could sever a torso, and it would be like a cartoon where, after a few moments, the body parts go in two different directions.” She used her hands to demonstrate, still laughing. “That would be cool, but so, so gruesome.”
“Yes, that would be grisly,” I agreed, hoping I never had to witness it.
Ingrid pointed. �
��Those swords are a couple of zingers. But I can see we’re going to have to work on your long game. You can’t go in swinging like crazy and end up slicing and dicing the entire place. It will take some practice and control.”
I blushed, drawing the blades back to examine them again. They were obviously old, but there wasn’t a scratch anywhere to be seen on the steel. The blades were shiny and new, like they’d been forged yesterday. “Yeah,” I said. “I think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to hurt anyone. They’re just so light. They don’t feel like much in my hands.” I took a few practice swings in front of me.
Fen cleared his throat. I suddenly noticed everyone had taken a big step backward. “Easy there, shieldmaiden.” He chuckled. “Let’s get you working on some stop-and-start drills.” He gestured at another hay bale, this one dressed in battle gear, including a breastplate.
I followed him over, trying not to feel silly for not being able to control myself, as Tyr announced, “I’m going to take the rest of these weapons back to the living area and take inventory.”
“I’ll go with you!” Sam said eagerly. “Staying here with Han Solo is too risky. I might look like Swiss cheese when she’s finished with those things.”
“Ha-ha,” I said. “But Han didn’t use a light saber, Luke did. I thought you were smart.” I arced both blades above my head in a sweet crisscross maneuver. Or what I thought was a sweet maneuver. I might very well have looked ridiculous.
Except no one was laughing.
“You’re right,” Sam called as she followed Tyr out. “But Han was the closest thing to hot as shit I could think of. And you’re definitely that, even if you could use a little help from Yoda to find your Valkyrie force.” She waved. “See you later. Hit me up when you get back.”
“Will do,” I answered.
“Okay, time to get down to business,” Ingrid said. “We only have a few scant hours until dawn. You can’t go into the Park looking like you have no idea what you’re doing. Fenrir, do you have your sword on you?” He drew it out of his waistband. “Good. Go stand over there, and let’s rock this out.” She gestured to the other side of the area. “Phoebe, get your head out of the clouds and put those things down. Follow the wolf. He’s going to put you through your paces.”
Freed: (Phoebe Meadows Book 2) Page 2
