Bauldr's Tears

by Alydia Rackham

  Then, of a sudden, Thor twisted, raised his hammer and landed a crushing blow to Valkyrie’s shoulder.

  Bone cracked. She screamed and staggered sideways.

  With a terrific bound, Thor leaped high, somersaulted in the air, and hit the ground running, his cape snarling behind him—and made for the dark hallway.

  Valkyrie drew her lips back from her sharp fangs and hissed. Her eyes raging, she switched her sword to her other hand and flapped her incredible wings.

  With a clap of wind that nearly knocked Marina onto her back, Valkyrie took to the air and sped after Thor into the shadows.

  Gasping, Marina clawed her way to her feet, shook her head to clear it, and darted out into the chamber.

  Her footsteps echoed deafeningly, her breath rasping in her ears. The fire growled ravenously—the sinister warmth gushed out across her skin.

  Then, in a moment, she was beside him.

  Her hands slapped down on the marble surface, her gaze falling upon his face.

  Angelic and still as stone.

  Yet, somehow…

  Not dead.

  “Bird,” she whispered, bending closer and pressing her hand to his silent heart. His body felt cold, his clothes soft.

  “Bird, I’ve come to get you.” More tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m so sorry it took so long!” With shivering hands, she reached down to pry open the bag at her belt.

  CRACK.

  Red light blasted through her skull.

  Her whole head spun.

  The next instant, she felt herself suspended in the air—

  And then her back slammed into stone.

  She rolled like a rag doll, then flopped onto her back—pain screamed through all her bones.

  She choked, trying to pull in air and clear her eyes…

  When she could see enough, she realized she was lying at the foot of the stairs again.

  Panic seized her.

  She twisted her head—

  Hel stood beside Bird’s body.

  Poison dripped from her shoulders and chaos scorched in her fiendish eye. She showed her fangs, and began striding slowly toward Marina. In her right hand, a long black blade snickered. Blackness rolled behind her like a million snakes.

  Marina struggled to sit up, but dizziness grabbed her and spun her balance sideways. She squeezed her bag in a death grip.

  Hel’s shadow spilled over her. Marina looked high up into her face.

  Hel canted her head, her lip curling.

  She exhaled a low hiss—smoke breathed from her teeth.

  And, without a word, she lifted her sword—

  And slashed it down toward Marina’s face.

  Marina threw up a hand—

  CLASH!

  A shadow hurled itself over Marina’s head and caught the swinging blade. Emerald chewed ebony for half a second, and then two figures roiled away, back onto the stones that Thor and Valkyrie had broken.

  They ripped apart. Hel, seething and spitting sparks, hopped back and then set her stance, hefting her lithe blade.

  And before her, a figure slowly raised himself to his full height.

  Loki. Clad in darkness just as black as hers—but more magnificent and terrible. He held his own weapon easily in his left hand, his skin pale as snow.

  And he turned, just slightly, and met Marina’s eyes.

  His had turned the color of a summer sky. He raised his eyebrows at her.

  And, in the depths of her heart, Marina knew what he meant.

  Hel chuckled, rivulets of fire trickling down her chin.

  Slowly, with resignation in all his features, Loki faced Hel again.

  “How are you feeling, alskling?” Hel asked.

  Loki gave her a minute smirk.

  “Ready to die,” he replied. “You?”

  “Not quite yet.” She licked her lips.

  He shrugged.

  “That’s too bad.”

  And he shot toward her like an arrow.

  She spun—slashed with her whip-like sword—

  Loki’s blade met it, caught it in its teeth—the weapons bandied and snarled with blinding speed.

  The two fencers charged back and forth, dodging and dancing, the liquid shadow from their capes swimming and swarming around their feet.

  SHINK!

  Loki’s sword went flying.

  Marina’s heart stopped.

  Loki snarled and clapped his hands.

  Hel’s sword burst.

  Shards of metal flew. She jerked her face back to protect her eyes—

  Loki clapped again, and red fire exploded in his palms. With a swift spin, he hurled it at her chest.

  It hit her and blasted her backward. She crashed to the ground.

  Loki advanced, conjuring another comet in his hands.

  Hel leaped to her feet, throwing down the useless hilt of her sword.

  She quickly rubbed her palms together, then yanked her hands apart—a bolt of darkness appeared in the space between.

  She snatched it up. Loki threw his comet—a pulse of blue-white light—

  She sliced through it with her beam of shadow—it splattered apart on either side of her.

  She let go of the shadow, lunged forward and thrust her hands out in front of her—

  A mighty concussion punched out—

  Loki brought his hands together in front of his face and lunged toward it, pointing his palms—

  The concussion split. Smoke burst.

  Loki leaped up, a knife of blue fire appearing in his right hand. He lanced down toward her head.

  She dodged and rolled—Loki landed and swiped the empty air. Hel jumped to her feet and flung her cape out—it became a tangling tendril that caught at Loki’s left arm.

  He spun, wrapped it around his wrist and grabbed it, then jerked her toward him.

  Hel tripped to him, snarling—then jumped and lunged at his throat.

  He staggered back, let go of the knife—she snatched at him—they toppled and rolled.

  A frenzy of scrabbling and eruptions swallowed them. They careened away, toward the railing.

  Marina saw her chance.

  She scrambled to her feet and hurried across the floor once more, knocking away her dizziness. An eternity later—the crackling of the battle snapping around her head—she thudded against Bird’s bier again. She swept around to his other side, so she could keep Loki and Hel in view…

  The brother and sister ruptured apart, both flying backward high in the air—but instantly regained their balance. They spun and faced each other midair, magic seething in their fingers and enflaming their eyes. Sparks shook from the ends of their hair, their capes spread like great wings.

  They landed. The floor trembled.

  In a furor of fluid, concerted motion, the two began flinging shadow, light, fire and thunder at each other. Their swift, graceful hands moved like birds and snakes and battering rams—catching, cutting, batting away and hurling deadly, furious power that sparkled, cracked and hissed like fireworks. The stones beneath their nimble feet began to fracture. Deflected spells speared the ceiling, the walls, and the railing.

  Marina found herself gripping Bird’s cold hand in both of hers. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think—

  She couldn’t rip her eyes from Loki.

  Then, two spells caught each other in the middle. Like dueling giants clasping hands. Both fighters threw out their arms and braced their legs, leaning in, pushing as hard as they could…

  With a sound like snapping wood, the spell

  broke—

  —and one shaft blasted straight up, striking the ceiling. Hel knocked back, gasping. Loki fell to one knee.

  Marina’s breath caught.

  The thunder of the concussion rolled through the room.

  Loki pressed a hand to his wound. It came away dripping with blood.

  Loki—!

  Marina’s mouth didn’t move. Silence smothered them all. But her heart screamed.

  Loki turned hi
s head.

  Looked right at her.

  That same look.

  And mouthed one word.

  “Go.”

  CRACK.

  Marina jerked her head up.

  A giant fissure had appeared in the ceiling. Little rocks began tumbling down like snowflakes—and shattered like hailstones when they hit the ground.

  Marina stuffed her hand in her bag, and pulled out the red Wishstone and pulled it to her mouth, then turned to face Bird. She squeezed his wrist, and fought to keep her voice from shaking.

  “Let him go.”

  Snap!

  A blue flash of light all around his body—and his head lolled to the side.

  CRACK.

  Another fissure opened up, this time in the wall.

  Hel cackled with glee. Marina looked up to see flames spew from her mouth and roll down her chin and throat. She whirled her hands and conjured a sword of fire, and held it aloft in both hands.

  Loki hauled himself to his feet. Blood ran in a river down his front, down his leg, and pooled on the floor by his boot. His face went ashen—grey around his eyes and lips.

  But he spat back at her—and red sparks issued from his lips. Steaming liquid gold spilled from his mouth, and his eyes burned like embers. He spread his arms out to the sides, his hands like claws. His cloak rapidly swirled in vapor all around his legs, building and rising like a boiling cauldron…

  Movement.

  Marina turned her head to see a massive wolf dart down the stairs and skid to a stop at the base.

  He saw her. Their glances caught.

  Then, he turned and glimpsed his brother and sister.

  Terror shot through Marina’s heart.

  That instant, another terrible CRACK broke through the room—

  And the towering ceiling caved in.

  Loki roared.

  Hel shrieked.

  Fenris charged toward them.

  Hel and Loki sprang toward each other, coiling their magic like scorpions.

  A flashing green dagger appeared in Loki’s

  hand—

  They slammed into each other—bound up in a deadly embrace—

  Fenris hurtled into them—

  And all three pitched over the railing and plunged into the infinite pit.

  Marina ripped the last stone from her pouch and threw herself across Bird’s chest.

  “Take us to Asgard!” she screamed, her heart tearing in half.

  A giant stone punctured the floor right next to the bier—

  FLASH.

  —and everything drowned in devastating white light.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Warmth.

  But not hot, dry, ravenous warmth. It caressed her head, and a soft breeze stroked her hair.

  Shivering, she dared to lift up, just an inch.

  Bird lay beneath her. She grasped his tunic in an iron grip with both hands. And they both sprawled deep in waving, golden grass.

  Gasping, she hurriedly sat up, loosening her death hold on him.

  A friendly wind caught her hair and blew it back…

  As she gazed out over a beautiful, sunlit hillside bordered around by tall, leafy oaks.

  And far out on the horizon, past a knotted emerald wood, stood the highest tree she had ever seen—stretching to heaven itself. And above its reaching branches arched a pure, infinite blue sky, gently joined by shimmering, gold-lined clouds. Swallows twittered and flitted past this banner, diving into the trees or skimming the stalks of the meadow grass. The sweet scent of alfalfa and hay filled her lungs.

  Tears trailed down her cheeks.

  She climbed to her feet, all her muscles shaking, and blinked through the water in her eyes.

  A soft jingling reached her.

  She turned to her left to glimpse two horsemen riding on a nearby road toward the great tree. They wore fine, bright scarlet clothes, had reddish-golden hair, and short beards. They cantered easily, laughing together. They each wore a sword, and the tack on their horses glimmered in the afternoon sunlight.

  “Hello!” Marina called, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat, and raised her tone. “Hello! Here!” She raised an arm and waved.

  The two men turned their heads and looked. Pulled back on their reins and stopped.

  “Can we help you, my lady?” one of them shouted.

  “Yes,” she answered loudly. “I need to get to Yggdrasil to speak to Odin.”

  They spoke to each other, then urged their mounts off the road and up to her at a quick trot.

  “What is your distress?” the other young man asked. “Are you lost?”

  “No,” Marina answered as they drew near and she could see their faces better. “I’m…I’m Marina Feroe. And I’ve brought Bauldr back.”

  The two men drew up beside her, frowning—

  And then they saw him.

  One of them went pale. Both men froze.

  Then, the first handsome man pinned Marina with an astonished blue gaze.

  “How did you do this?”

  “It’s a very long story,” Marina answered, more tears running down her cheeks. “And I’d like to tell it to Odin.”

  “Of course,” he rasped. “Erick, get hold of him and lift him onto your horse!”

  “Yes—All right,” Erick stammered, leaping off and diving into the grass next to Bird. He grabbed his arm, heaved him up, and then laid him across his shoulders and carried him to his startled horse.

  “My lady, come with me,” the first man held his hand out to her. “I am Erling. This is my brother Erick. We are huntsmen for the king.”

  “Thank you, Erling,” Marina managed, reaching up to grasp his hand. With no effort at all, he pulled her up and set her on the saddle in front of him. Marina looked over to see Bird’s body limply sitting in the saddle in front of Erick, who had wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him against his chest. The brothers glanced at each other, nodded, and then kicked their horses.

  The next moment, they were flying through the meadow, caught in the living wind, headed straight toward the world tree, and the home of the king of Asgard.

  The tree obscured the sun, the sky, the rest of the world.

  Tremendous, swirling clouds of fog rose up before the two horses as they headed for a wide drawbridge—a drawbridge that joined over a vast gorge, into which two mighty rivers poured. The horse hooves clattered over the boards as the dew of the frothing, churning water below coated the riders’ hair and skin.

  Before them rose Yggdrasil’s gnarled trunk—so wide that Marina could not now see around it—its edges and surfaces deep black but burnished with gold. In its center stood a great gate, carved with a hundred pictures from a hundred stories. Guards in vivid, flashing silver armor lined the lane leading up to it, flags flying from their lances.

  “Open in the name of the king!” Erling bellowed over the roar of the water, and the guards sprang into action, grasping a handle and working a great wheel that groaned deep in the foundations of the earth, slowly heaving the massive doors ajar.

  The horses pranced in place for just a moment—Erling’s arm tightened around Marina’s waist—and then they darted into the new opening, hooves clattering on worn cobbles.

  Coolness washed over them as they entered the shade. They galloped through a low, deep tunnel, their passage thundering like cannon fire…

  And in a moment, they burst out into the most awesome chamber Marina had ever seen.

  Higher than any building on earth, wider than any cathedral. The hollow heart of Yggdrasil, with walls of smoothed, pale wood—walls that leaped up beyond what Marina could see.

  High, high overhead, thick, graceful branches within the tree reached out from all the walls and intertwined with each other, and heart-shaped emerald leaves grew amongst them. Bright flickering lanterns dangled from many of these boughs by jeweled chains, filling the highest reaches with twinkling fairy lights.

  Massive knots bulged out from the great walls, and th
ese knots had been carved out—Marina glimpsed chimneys, windows and doors in the faces of these knots, and winding staircases leading up to each entrance. Scents of food and cooking smoke wafted from these open doors and chimneys—and laughter, and voices. Staircases and hanging bridges decorated the walls around these little dwellings, leading round and round, higher and higher, toward the internal branches that held hands so far above.

  Their horses sped through the narrow cobblestone streets of this living, wooden city, and then beneath a giant archway sculpted to look like two fierce, bearded men standing guard in full armor.

  “Open the doors, open the doors!” Erick shouted, his voice ringing through the great space. Ahead of them stood an immense doorway decorated around with fantastic carven knotwork. The two guards that flanked it leaped toward the handles, grabbed them and heaved the doors open just as the horses plunged through.

  They swept down a long, brightly-lit, golden corridor. Marina could just glimpse paintings on either side of them: women dressed in white, seeming to be bandaging, bathing, and feeding other people.

  The doors at the far end already hung open, and through them Marina could see what had to be sunlight. They raced through, and found themselves in a great round chamber, surrounded by pillars, and pierced down through with a shaft of sunlight from straight overhead.

  In the very center stood a white stone bier, completely bathed in this sunlight so it shone.

  At the racket their hooves caused, several people emerged from doorways past the pillars. Women, all dressed in white as well, their curly hair bound up.

  “Call for the king!” Erling commanded, leaping off his horse. “We have brought his son!”

  The women cried out, their hands flying to their mouths, and two of them dashed away.

  “My lady,” Erling panted, reaching up toward Marina. She swung her leg over and leaned, and slipped down into his grasp. He caught her and set her down easily, then hurried over to help his brother.

  Together the two men lifted Bird down very gently, then carried him to the bier. They laid him out, his skin and hair illuminating like alabaster and gold in that bath of sun.