Silent Shield

by S. T. Bende

  “Thank you,” I called to the dragon.

  He snorted a puff of thick, white smoke.

  “Axel’s over there.” I pointed to the hotel. “Go get him!”

  Rufus pushed himself to his feet and pounded across the sand. In ten short steps, he’d spread his wings and launched into the air. I flattened myself against his back and held on for dear life. Behind me, Janna’s nails dug into my waist. Neither of us were particularly happy fliers, but we were professional enough to keep our mouths firmly shut.

  Rufus dove. I clung desperately to his scales. Air whooshed from my chest as we landed in the grass beside the hotel. Seconds later, Axel slid into place in front of me. I sat up, and transferred my clinging arms from the dragon to his back.

  “Torstein, Brigga, and Raynor are heading to the beach,” Axel said. “I saw them when I came outside.”

  “And Sverrir?” I asked.

  “He’s close.” Axel grimaced. “Rufus, head for the water!”

  The dragon ran a few steps before jumping in the air. Wind chilled my bare arms as he climbed, flying high above the pointed red rooftops of the hotel.

  “Dive,” Axel commanded.

  I gripped my boyfriend’s back as Rufus launched himself down. My stomach lurched but I swallowed hard. Please, gods, don’t let me be sick. Not on top of Axel.

  “Torstein!” Axel shouted. “Head north!”

  I peeled my eyelids open and peered down. Torstein saluted from the sand. He waved Raynor and Brigga forward, and darted up the beach.

  “What’s our plan?” I called to Axel.

  “We still want him clear of the hotel,” Axel yelled back. “But we also want to draw him away from the convergence site. If we can keep him off-course, maybe the energy won’t come close enough to—”

  “Look out!” Janna screamed in my ear. A red beam shot up from the ground, narrowly missing Rufus’ wing. The dragon angled sharply to the left.

  “Hold on tight!” Axel shouted.

  He shifted his weight. Rufus dropped into what felt like a death dive.

  “Axel!” I shrieked.

  “Rufus, flame!” Axel yelled.

  Heat slammed into my face as the dragon released a massive burst of fire. It charred the sand, leaving fiery embers in its wake. I could only assume Sverrir had been the target.

  “Did we hit him?” I asked.

  “No. He ported out.”

  “What?” I whipped my head around. “Where did he go?”

  A spark of light flashed on the sand. Sverrir appeared a short distance up the beach. An array of objects surrounded his feet.

  “Never mind—there he is.” I pointed. “He must have collected some things on his port because he—oh. Oh, no.”

  “He’s got the ingredients?” Janna guessed.

  “It sure as Helheim looks like it.” Axel leaned forward. “But the convergence site is south of here. And it’s not supposed to happen for another hour. Why would he bring them here unless . . .”

  “Unless the calculations were wrong.” I blinked at the sky. A row of bright dots twinkled in a nearly straight line. “Oh my gods, it’s happening. It’s happening right now.”

  “We have to attack,” Janna said.

  “He doesn’t have the dagger,” Axel countered. “If we keep Ingrid airborne—”

  “We have to take him out.” I stared at the ground. “He’ll never stop coming for us. But if we capture him now, he won’t be able to hurt us—in the future, or the past, or ever.”

  “We’d better do it fast,” Janna warned. “Those planets look awfully close.”

  “Good thing I’m a fast flier.” Axel lowered his head. He issued his command, and Rufus soared up the beach. The dragon dropped low, his toes skimming the ocean and sending a spray of saltwater splashing against my bare feet. The tulle of my skirt clung to my legs, and I squeezed my knees against the dragon’s ribs to keep from slipping.

  We’d nearly reached Sverrir when a bright flash erupted in the sky.

  “It’s starting!” Torstein’s voice boomed from the beach. He, Brigga, and Raynor were nearly even with us—the light mage must have ported them in. He’d also brought Bodil, who floated in some kind of suspended bubble. Now, my friends ran—and hovered—parallel to our flight path. They narrowed the distance between themselves and Sverrir with impressive speed. Raynor carried his sword—he must have grabbed it from the storage closet when he’d left with Torstein. And the light mage had fired up a white orb. He tossed it between his palms while keeping an eye on the sky. I followed his sightline to the spot where the planets had very nearly come together.

  Oh, gods. Are we too late?

  The white beam came from the farthest of the twinkling lights. It shot forward, illuminating each planet in turn until they formed a single, interconnected string. In the time it took me to send up a silent prayer, the beam burst down from the sky. It hit the ocean with a deafening boom. A massive wave erupted at the impact site. It moved swiftly toward the shore, the glowing, glittering mass of water driving straight for the spot where Sverrir stood.

  “Stop him!” I screamed. “Before it hits!”

  “Rufus!” Axel ordered. “Get there!”

  The dragon lowered his head and flapped harder. Icy wind whipped against my wet legs. Hope flickered in my heart as I held tight to Axel’s waist. This was a race against nature—one we could win. The wave had momentum, but we had motivation. We were going to capture Sverrir. I firmly believed it—with every last fiber of my heart.

  Until the moment that we didn’t.

  Chapter 15

  THE WAVE CRASHED AGAINST the shore at the exact moment that we did. Rufus’ feet slammed into the ground, launching Janna and I off his back. I tucked my knees to my chest as I soared through the air. The second my bare feet hit the sand, I drew my sword and charged at Sverrir. Janna’s battle cry sounded behind me. The thunder of footsteps let me know that Torstein, Brigga, Raynor and the still-suspended Bodil weren’t far behind. It was seven on one, and we had a dragon on our side. Victory was all but assured.

  Snap!

  The sound echoed across the beach. Its deep vibration resonated against the front of my skull, as if it were trying to push its way out. The world spun, and the edges of my vision grew blurry. Heat built between my shoulder blades, low at first, then building to the point of pain. I transferred my sword to one hand and reached overhead to claw at what I assumed was the source of the inferno—Freia’s dagger. But my fingertips jammed into hard wood. I’d forgotten my shield was still on my back. The heat beneath it intensified, and I wrenched my arm to my waist to try and snake it up the back of my shirt. My fingers wrapped around the dagger, and I wedged them beneath the straps holding it down. The metal blade sparked, sending a surge of heat through my hand. I gritted my teeth and tried again. This time, I managed to wrap my palm around the handle.

  And then everything went black.

  For a seeming eternity, I spiraled in an endless void of darkness. The moment before, my senses had been completely overwhelmed. Icy seawater had weighed down my skirt while burning metal seared my back. The flash of lights had lit my vision—both from the crashing wave and the beams thrown between Sverrir and Torstein. And the shouts of my teammates had filled the empty beach, their cries signaling the conclusion of something inevitable and irreversible. But now, there was nothing. No sound. No sensation. No sign of life. The entire world was cloaked in darkness.

  My stomach dropped. Did we lose?

  A burst of light turned everything white. It came from above—a single stream illuminating what looked to be a long, vertical shaft. Its walls shimmered slightly, as if it were made of pearl—or the extremely fancy plates we’d used for formal meals at Kappa Mu. I continued to fall, but I was no longer alone. Now, Janna tumbled beside me. Her intricate updo had come undone, so her wild, black braids whipped against her face. She’d managed to remove her shield, and she held it in front of her chest as she spiraled. Brigga and Raynor
were directly across from me, and Bodil was just above—still suspended in her bubble. Axel was slightly below us, atop a flailing Rufus. The dragon’s wings flapped frantically but they didn’t seem to be doing him any good. Rufus and Axel fell as fast as the rest of us. We spiraled downward in a descent that was sure to kill us—if we weren’t dead already. Maybe this was the path to Valhalla. Or maybe I’d been hit on the head and was smack in the middle of an epic hallucination. Or maybe—

  Snap!

  My body was wrenched upward, the sudden motion shooting jolts of pain through my joints. Now I was traveling up . . . but instead of falling, I was being jerked by my limbs. Sharp jabs fired through my elbows, shoulders, knees and hips until I thought I might be ripped apart. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the agony to end.

  A few seconds later, it did. My upward trajectory stopped along with it. Now I was moving . . . nowhere?

  I pulled my shield from my back, and cautiously pried my eyes open. All around me, my friends were suspended in the air. They seemed to float, their bodies hovering around the moonlit shaft in a bizarre state of suspension. Below, Rufus continued flapping his wings. But now, the motion carried Axel up to our level.

  “What the Helheim is going on?” Axel demanded.

  “I have no idea.” I drew my shoulders back, eliciting a fresh wave of pain. The skin beneath Freia’s dagger felt as if it had spent the last few minutes inside a bonfire. It was tender, and probably badly blistered, but at least the agony was beginning to ebb.

  Is that because the dagger is gone?

  “Oh, gods. No.” I turned my head, desperate to see if I’d lost our prize. I would never forgive myself if—

  “Freia’s dagger is still there,” Brigga called from across the circle. “It looks like it burned a hole in your dress, but it’s still strapped to you. I can see the blade.”

  “Thank gods.” My torso slumped in relief. The motion stretched the charred skin, and I winced again. Ouch.

  “But we didn’t activate Freia’s dagger,” Janna pointed out. “So how are we in this . . . what exactly are we—”

  Another flash interrupted my captain. I looked up—carefully, so as not to hurt my back again—to find Torstein barreling down the shaft. He fell back-first, his arms above his chest and his hands sending long, white beams up the cylinder. A second figure appeared above him—this one cloaked, and firing off shots of his own. I raised my shield as the two mages neared, and angled my sword so I could strike Sverrir on his descent.

  He’d nearly reached me when he and Torstein slammed into an invisible wall. They lay in the center of the void, just out of my reach and frozen in a moment of suspended animation.

  And then all Helheim broke loose.

  The two mages dropped so they were on our level. Sverrir fired the first shot. The red beam burst from his hand and struck the wall behind me. Its surface crackled, then lit up in a brilliant flame. I leapt to the side, running for Janna before I realized I was walking on air. With nothing beneath my feet, I should have fallen straight down the shaft. But wherever we were, the laws of physics had ceased to apply.

  Don’t think about it, Ingrid. Just fight.

  “Wait!” Bodil’s rasp filled the void. We all froze as she floated lower. Torstein raised his hand, using whatever invisible force he possessed to keep her from getting too close to Sverrir.

  “He’s dangerous,” Torstein warned.

  “I don’t—cough, cough—care.” Bodil was even paler than I’d remembered. Her hands trembled, and her voice shook, but she held Torstein’s gaze with a steady eye—and the determination of a chieftess. She’d sworn to use the last of her strength to try to stop Sverrir; to salvage at least some small part of the man she’d known.

  But the dark mage was too far gone.

  “Sver—cough. Sverrir,” Bodil croaked. “Please, don’t do this. You’re—cough—more than—cough—a killer.”

  “You’re dying,” Sverrir spat. “This is the only way I can save you.”

  “You’re—cough—better than this.” A sheen broke out across Bodil’s forehead. She held out a hand, supporting her weight against the edge of her bubble. “Be the man I know you are—cough. Do it . . . gasp . . . for me . . .” Bodil rested the back of her head against the filmy surface that supported her.

  Below, Sverrir ignited a fresh orb between his hands.

  “On guard,” Axel ordered. We all raised our weapons.

  “I am doing this for you.” Sverrir’s voice cracked. “Everything I’ve done since you were taken from me was to find my way back to you.”

  “No.” Bodil stared at him sadly. “This isn’t who you are. I know you’ve—cough. Seen loss. I know—cough, cough—you’re in pain. But you had to know I wouldn’t want this for you. I only ever—cough—wanted you to be happy.”

  “I will be,” Sverrir growled. “Once I reset the—”

  Bodil broke into a coughing fit so fierce, Sverrir dropped his orb. She clutched at her chest and slumped against the wall of her bubble. As she drew a shaky breath, her eyes widened and she reached out to Sverrir. “Please,” she rasped. “I—cough—lo—cough, cough.” She slumped over. As she drew her final breath, her voice was no more than a whisper. “I love you.”

  And just like that, Bodil was gone.

  Sverrir’s rage was instant. He threw his head back and screamed into the void, then fired a series of orbs at my team. One nearly nicked my shoulder, and I hurriedly dropped into position. I lunged forward. My sword struck the dark mage’s arm. He whirled around and fired another beam at me. My shield blocked his shot. Smoking wood filled the air, and I slammed my fist against my shield to stamp out the flame. Sverrir shook off his injury. He extended his arms to his sides, spun in a slow circle, and fired a fresh round. Flashes of red pinged off the walls, the seemingly endless column lighting up with bursts of crimson. My teammates went on the defense. Brigga and Raynor flung themselves onto the invisible ground. Axel drove Rufus farther down the tunnel. Torstein dusted the smoldering debris from his suit coat. And Janna and I jumped out of the path of neighboring shots. We crashed into each other, our swords reverberating with the contact. My shoulder slammed into the wall, and I landed hard on my back. Janna landed on top of me, sending the air whooshing from my lungs. I struggled to draw a breath. My captain rolled onto her knees, extended her hand, and helped me to stand.

  “Get up, Ingrid. We don’t want to give him any opportunity to—skit.” Janna raised her sword. It deflected another blast. I raised my own weapon and dropped into a fighting stance, ready to cover my friend.

  Not today, Sverrir.

  As I prepared myself to attack, Torstein threw a white orb. It hit the dark mage’s chest, and Sverrir doubled over. Raynor swung his sword low, slicing Sverrir across the ankle and drawing first blood. A low growl erupted from Sverrir’s throat. He threw his arm out to the side, firing a red beam that whizzed past Brigga’s face. She dropped to her knees, and flung herself forward.

  “Augh!” Brigga rammed her dagger into Sverrir’s calf. Raynor pulled her back just as the dark mage fired again. His beam pierced the air where Brigga’s head had been, pinging off the wall and turning in a downward trajectory that sent it on a path straight to—

  “Axel!” I screamed. “Look out!”

  Axel shouted a command. Rufus swung his neck to one side and dove. The pair spiraled down, pulling away from the red beam then rotating upward. Rufus’ wings flapped hard, carrying him back up the shaft until he and Axel were nearly level with the rest of us.

  Axel shouted again, and Rufus shot a narrow stream of fire. It struck Sverrir from below, lighting up his cloak and forcing him to abandon his attack. With Sverrir distracted—and about to be engulfed in flames—I shuffled across the air and delivered a fierce front-kick. The dark mage stumbled back. He tripped on his own cloak. When he landed on his butt I kicked again—this time, a low roundhouse that landed square on his face with a satisfying crack. The blow vibrated from the top o
f my foot up my leg.

  I’d struck gold.

  Sverrir hissed. He brought his hands to his face, swiping away the blood that oozed from his nose. Janna delivered her own roundhouse, and the dark mage lashed out again. But he swiped at his eyes, and when he fired at me his aim was off. His shot missed, the beams leaning slightly to my left. They hit an already compromised section of the wall. A chunk tumbled down the shaft, but I kept my focus on the dark mage directly in front of me. He snaked one foot, hooking his boot around my ankle and nearly taking me down. Janna threw out her arm, and I grabbed onto it to steady myself. Then, I slammed my heel into Sverrir’s ribcage. He swore loudly before rolling onto one side. His palms hit the unseen ground, and he pushed himself slowly up. If he stood, and if he got a clear shot at any one of us . . .

  “No!” Torstein bellowed. He launched a massive orb—the biggest I’d seen him make—straight at the dark mage. Silver streaks lined the white sphere, so it sparked from within as it barreled through the air. Sverrir lifted a hand, probably intending to deflect it, but he lacked his usual strength. His fingertips shook and his arm dropped to his side.

  The orb never wavered from its path.

  The ball hit Sverrir in the chest, sparking silver streaks piercing its edges before circling the dark mage’s body. He was immediately engulfed in what looked to be a tangle of unwieldy silver ropes. They wound together, tightening in a tapestry of impenetrable fibers. Magic sparked from within, lifting Sverrir in the air and lighting him up with blinding charges. His agony set my teeth on edge, but he’d left us no choice. If Torstein let up, the dark mage would seize the opportunity to gain the upper hand. We had to stop him from destroying our world. My team was the final line of defense—the silent shield protecting Valkyris, Los Angeles, and everything in between from the darkness this monster could cultivate. Sverrir’s fall was inevitable. And yet . . .

  An unexpected sadness flickered through me as the mage’s screams fell silent. Despite Bodil’s faith, Sverrir had proven himself unredeemable. There had been no doubt that the world he desired would be filled with immeasurable pain. But even so, I pitied him for the life he’d chosen. He could have—and should have—amounted to so much more. He’d just never been able to pull himself out of his own darkness.