Scales.
Snakeskin.
It clothed him from throat to wrists to ankles, fitting him as if it were part of his own lean, knife-like body. He turned toward her with silent, deliberate ease, the shadow swimming around his knees.
An elegantly-shredded cape slithered along through the fog behind him, and more tatters dripped from his elbows and forearms. He took a slow breath, reached to his belt, and drew out a short, slender sword that glowed with a wicked green light, its blade dancing with swimming runes.
“Take the same corridor Thor followed,” he said. “Turn left at the first chance you get, and follow the stairs all the way down. Keep walking, Marina.” His eyebrows drew together. “Keep walking as strong and straight as you can, no matter what you find. Walk all the way through the door ahead of you, and into the chamber that holds the furnace.” Then, Loki met Marina’s eyes, and sorrow crossed his features. He lifted his chin.“Til Valhall.”
He waved his hand in front of his face—
Rose into the air on a cloud of vapor, and shot off down the corridor through which Hel had fled.
Shivering, gripping the bag of Wishstones that hung at her belt, Marina hurried down the dark corridor, trying to keep her echoing footsteps and her jagged breathing quiet. Shadows draped all around her like thick cobwebs. Dank, dungeon scent filled her nose and throat. Flickering lamps winked like ancient, malevolent eyes from out of the twists and snarls of petrified roots.
A sigh of cold air—like a death rattle—touched the left side of her face and the edges of her hair.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned her head that direction.
A thrill of dread crawled through her.
It started at her fingertips and traveled up her arms, into her chest, and through her veins. Her throat closed.
Before her yawned a huge doorway. A broad descending staircase waited beyond. Torches upon hooks flickered with a leering yellow light.
And by their illumination, she could just glimpse the texture of the walls.
Hundreds of bodies lying on their backs, each one in its own rectangular cavity set into the walls. Floor to ceiling, on both sides. None of them moved. And Marina could see the haunting outlines of skulls, the curl of white knuckles…
A catacombs.
Another terrible shiver passed through her.
With trembling fingers, she opened her little bag, reached down inside, and fumbled until she found the blue one. She brought it up to her lips, and whispered:
“Hide me.”
A watery ripple passed over her vision. Instinctively, she glanced down at her left hand…
Only a ghostly silver outline showed that she even had a hand or arm at all.
She gulped, vaguely horrified, closed her fist around that stone, and started toward the threshold.
She hesitated at the top of the staircase, feeling that deathly breeze against her skin again. Finally, she gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and forced herself to take the first step.
She landed safely. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes, chills scattering through her body, and made herself take another step. And another. Another.
Her instincts told her to hug one of the walls, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Those walls stretched up into the blackness, far beyond the reach of her sight. All stacked full of motionless figures shrouded in blankets of dust.
A library of the dead.
Occasionally, grand armor or jewels gleamed through the grime, flickering dully in the flamelight. Jawbones sagged. Empty sockets gazed out at her from beneath crooked helmets. Long finger bones curled around the hilts of rusted swords.
Some of the figures stretched twice as tall as Marina. Others could not have stood as high as her hip. One or two lay in what appeared at first to be a basket of bones—but, upon second glance, had to have been the remains of giant wings.
Down and down she climbed, at a slight curve, until a quiet sound rose up before her. A low trickling, dripping…
Finally, the staircase straightened, and ended in a broad landing. And in front of her waited a wide canal of black, smooth water. A low stone ceiling curved overhead, and a few grim torches lit the chamber. Marina stopped, her heart stuttering as she stared at the fathomless water.
Then…
Breath. Breath. Breath…
Behind her.
She went ramrod straight, clutching the stone hard to her chest, her own breathing sharpening…
A touch of hot air on the side of her neck.
“I smell you, little one,” a deep, resonant voice purred—it vibrated through her bones. “Clever. But not quite invisible.”
“Fenris,” Marina gasped, her heartbeat thundering.
Shadow moved in the corner of her eye, and suddenly the looming man swept around from behind her.
Black coat, black hair, white skin and burning eyes. And in a moment of absent realization, Marina finally glimpsed the real family resemblance between the three shape-shifting Jotuns.
She tried to take a step back, tried to turn and race back up the stairs—
Fenris reached out with both hands and grabbed her by the neck.
She jolted, almost screaming—
He didn’t strangle her. Just cradled her head firmly, and then directed his gaze at where her eyes would be if he could see them. It turned her blood to frost.
“Where is my brother?” he demanded through his teeth—low and deadly. “How did you come to be here without him?” He squeezed her, and shook her—though not nearly as hard as he could have. “He is in danger—I can feel it. Where is he?”
Marina twitched, suddenly confused.
“What? You…You know what happened to him,” she stammered, feeling strength pulse from his hands and through her skull. “You and Hel planned this—you wanted to poison him—”
Bewilderment flashed across Fenris’ face.
“Poison?” he repeated, the intensity of his gaze red-hot. “What are you talking about?”
Marina stared at him.
“You…really don’t know?”
He shook her again—harder.
“What poison?”
“He said it was an elvish hemlock,” Marina answered, trying not to fall down.
Fenris’ gaze unfocused, and his breathing unsteadied. His lips parted, but for several minutes he didn’t say anything. Then, his jaw tightened.
“Drop that stone.”
“I can’t,” Marina tried. He pinned her with a glare and bared his teeth.
“Do it now, or I will break your neck.”
Marina braced herself…
Opened her fingers, and the stone fell to the paving with a musical clink.
A ripple crossed her eyes, and she could see herself again.
Fenris instantly fixed on her.
His attention flashed all over her features, and he took deep breaths, leaning closer to her, smelling her…
His breathing slowed. He pulled back, blinked, and looked into her eyes.
And his eyebrows drew together.
“What has my sister done?” he whispered, his tone entirely different.
Marina swallowed hard.
“She tricked Loki into killing Bird,” she rasped. “So that the Aesir would blame him and throw him out of Asgard.”
Fenris’ eyes blazed, but he said nothing. Marina went on.
“Now she’s going to use the magic in Bird’s body to finish a potion to kill everyone there—and she’s going to steal Loki’s…Loki’s heart magik to help her kill Thor—”
“She can’t take Loki’s heart magik,” Fenris snapped. “Not
without—”
“She stabbed him,” Marina said, suddenly trembling. “I saw it. She stabbed him with a poisoned blade and he’s dying.”
Fenris suddenly let go of her. His gaze drifted away—he backed up, his eyelashes flickering. He raked a hand through his curls, then pressed it to his mouth.
“You didn’t know?�
�� Marina realized, stepping toward him. He looked down at her, resting his hand lightly on his chest.
“I knew she loved Bauldr and that he did not love her in return,” he said flatly. “And that she hated him for it and wished to leave Asgard with me, and with Loki.” His expression hardened, and he turned away. “But I have not been here, to Helheim, in a hundred years. And…” He swallowed. “I find I do not know it anymore.”
Marina’s heart beat faster than a rabbit’s, but she dared to take a step closer.
“Thor is here with us,” she revealed. “He’s trying to find the potion before she can use it. Loki sent me to find Bird and get him out of here. He went to find Hel to distract her. Where…Where is Bird’s body? Do you know?”
He looked at her again. His eyes burned like mounting embers.
Then, he spoke.
“Through that doorway and down the stairs,” he said, pointing across the way. “That is where the forge is, and the biers for the newly-dead.”
“How do I get across?” Marina asked frantically, gesturing to the water. He raised an eyebrow.
“You cross.”
She stared at him, then at the black water.
“Swim?”
He snickered and shook his head.
“No, you cannot swim it. It’s impossible.”
“What? Then what do I do?” she demanded.
He openly sneered at her.
“Typical Midgardian—you make complicated what is simple.” He leveled a look at her. “You simply decide whether or not you trust the one who sent you down these stairs. And you cross the water.”
Marina’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He tipped his head at her.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to find my sister.”
And with that, he bolted up the catacomb staircase, leaving Marina alone.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Marina stood motionless for several minutes, staring at the place where Fenris had vanished. That steady, distant drip-drip-drip dominated her hearing. Otherwise, all stood silent.
She turned, her heart suddenly jumping, and bent down to pick up the fallen blue stone.
“Hide me,” she whispered, standing back up. She pulled it close to her mouth. “Hide me!”
Nothing happened.
And she remembered that each Wishstone could only be used once.
She set her teeth, fighting back a low cry.
The black water captivated her attention.
A silvery surface, languid as ink, hiding hundreds of fathoms of depth.
And Fenris had said “just cross.”
What did he mean, just cross? And cross without swimming? What was he talking about? Was there a spell on the water? Would it make her fall asleep, or would it suck her under, if she tried to swim?
She hurriedly glanced back and forth, up and down the tunnel, straining to see…
But she could glimpse no bridge, or boat, or stepping stones. Nothing but the wide stretch of canal, far too broad to jump.
And a tall, square door directly across from her.
It might as well have been on another planet.
She dropped the useless stone and took a fistful of her hair.
What had Loki said?
Take the first left, go down the stairs, keep walking. Keep walking strong and straight, go through the door and to the furnace…
She squeezed her hair between her fingers.
He’d said himself that he hadn’t been here in a long time. He probably had no idea this water was here. He probably thought this was just a hallway, a harmless hallway, not some vast ocean between her and the door she so desperately needed to get to…
She frowned.
Wait. If he remembered a hallway…
That couldn’t be right. Because there would be a chasm crossing her path even if there wasn’t water in it. He wouldn’t tell her to just walk right into a chasm without a bridge to carry her across…
What if he remembered a bridge being here, and there wasn’t one anymore?
She quickly searched again…
But she found no trace of anchorage for any sort of bridge, neither on her side, nor the far side. Just smooth stone.
Now she reached up with both hands and grabbed her head, her pulse ragged, her breath short.
“Keep walking, Marina. Keep walking as strong and straight as you can, no matter what you find. Walk all the way through the door ahead of you, and into the chamber that holds the furnace.”
That’s what he had said. But it couldn’t be right! She couldn’t just walk to the door. There was no possible way for her to do that. She couldn’t use the Wishstone that would take her from one place to another because she needed it to get her and Bird back to Asgard. And the “unbind” stone was useless here. Loki had to be mistaken. She needed to go back up, retrace her steps, find some other, more plausible way…
“You simply decide whether or not you trust the one who sent you down these stairs.” Fenris’ voice suddenly echoed in her head. “And you cross the water.”
Marina’s breath paused.
Then, she let it out—long, slow and tight.
That was it.
Making complicated what was simple.
She had to trust Loki.
She squeezed her eyes shut as her heartbeat skyrocketed. Memories flashed through her head: driving snow, bright blood against Bird’s chest, chains slithering on stone…
Plummeting over the edge of an icy cliff—only to land softly at the bottom.
A barked refusal through the frosty night—jaws clamping onto his arm—blood flying…
Swirling, freezing water—a mighty thud—being yanked out of the dark depths and into the air and the light…
A beautiful, fresh, living, tingling sensation pulsing through her crippled arm and banishing that old, constant ache…Her fingers stretching out and open as they hadn’t in so long…
His mouth searing her lips.
His tears illuminating his brilliant eyes and rolling down his pale cheeks.
She opened her eyes. Lowered her hands.
Stared ahead at the door in front of her.
Straightened to her full height, took a broad stride—
And stepped out onto the surface of the water.
Her foot sank—
Splash!
Her frame jerked.
The bottom of her foot hit a hard, smooth surface. She quickly looked down.
Water covered her shoe up to her ankle.
The canal was only four inches deep.
Fierce, joyful relief surged through her. She smiled, strength rushing through her muscles—and she broke into a run.
Water noisily flew out behind her, soaking her skirt. In moments, she had crossed the wide water—no more than a puddle—and grasped the huge, iron latch of the door. She worked it—it creaked. And she pulled the door open.
Heat washed up toward her, gusting through her hair and clothes.
More stairs. Unlit this time. But the staircase was short, and strong light throbbed in the chamber beyond. Gritting her teeth and closing her fingers, Marina started down.
But when she reached the last step…
The skin on her arms tingled, and the hair on her neck stood up.
BOOM.
The whole earth shook. She fell sideways and grabbed the wall to keep from collapsing. Wide-eyed, she slipped forward to see around the corner…
A cape like a thunderhead lashed the air, sending out showers of icy water and white sparks. Two titanic bodies fell and shattered the paving stones, both roaring like tigers. They viciously struck and battered each other—massive wings beat the air, sending the stormy cape billowing upon a great wind. The two thrashed wildly for half a moment, then tore apart, leaping again to their feet and facing each other.
One—the towering, winged form of the dark angel, Valkyrie. Blood running down her lip, her eyes like the sun, her sword laughing in her hand. The other—half her size but mighty an
d quick as coiled lightning—his lionesque mane feral in the gusts, his hammer gnashing and snapping—
Thor.
To the right of them waited a waist-high railing, and beyond that, the chamber ceiling leaped high, and the floor plunged away into a fathomless pit.
Directly beyond the two combatants opened a dark hallway, down which Marina could see nothing.
And to the left of them, in a vast hearth thirty feet wide, burned a white-hot flame like the mouth of a dragon. Alabaster elves knelt, holding the white mantel up upon their shoulders, their long hair hanging in curtains around their faces. The fire spat and writhed hungrily, breathing dry clouds of heat out into the room.
Before this fire stood two ornate biers decorated in flowery vines of ivory and brass. A body lay upon each one of them, feet toward Marina, head toward the flame. The one to the left wore beautiful silver armor and helmet, his sword slack in his left hand. But he had no flesh anymore—his features were all dry, white bone.
And the body to the right…
Bird.
Marina’s heart leaped, and then banged so painfully that tears sprang to her eyes.
Draping white clothes, a metal belt, bare feet. Brown blood staining the front of his tunic. Beautiful face placid, the skin of his cheeks, neck and bare arms glowing as if he had just fallen asleep—his golden hair in a curling wreath around his head.
BOOM!
Marina grabbed the wall again as the foundations of the mountain shook, and white lightning blazed through the balcony room.
Thor bared his teeth and roared, and threw himself at Valkyrie. She slashed at him with her brilliant sword—its blade struck Mjollnir.
Marina shocked down onto her knees and covered her head.
The two fighters crashed into each other, smashing and hacking with the fury of a tornado. Static skipped through the air currents, through the seams in the stone.
Marina could never cross while they were fighting.
They clawed at each other, screeching and howling—Valkyrie battered him with her wings, tearing at his cape with her talons; Thor struck her with his free fist and entangled her sword in shafts of lighting. The energy exploding out from them threatened to shatter the balcony.
Bauldr's Tears Page 28
