Wrath of Aten

by S. A. Ashdown

She shrugged her bare shoulder. ‘If you say so. How did you get rid of the last lot?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. This isn’t the same situation.’ He bit his tongue, annoyed that he’d contradicted himself. ‘I think we’ll need stronger herbs.’

  ‘Oh, those are to put you to sleep. Trust me, you don’t want to be awake for this.’ She clicked her fingers, and twelve cloaked witches emerged from the base of the hill, encircling him.

  Sure, he could escape; his Elvish gifts would trump whatever these witches could throw at them. No, not them. Him. That didn’t mean he’d survive the separation. This was a risk – Alastair had warned him well.

  A lump rippled under the skin on his face as one of the sprites attempted to see through his eyes. He yelled – it hurt like Hel – and the coven mistook his pain for fear.

  ‘We’ll stop if we have to,’ the priestess said.

  ‘If you can,’ said Nikolaj. He watched as she crushed the sour-smelling herbs between her palms, blowing the spell that slipped from her lips into the wild crumble, lighting it. She chucked the burning power in his face. His muscles solidified.

  But he was still awake.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nikolaj,’ the priestess said, ‘but you must focus on shutting the sprites out of you. I know, I said the herbs would put you to sleep.’

  He tried to nod but the gears that controlled his head and neck had jammed together.

  ‘I may have fibbed. Stay strong; they won’t like this. They’ll try to hide by latching onto your mind. Don’t let them in.’

  The witches linked hands, turning in a circle under the moon, the ground sparking under their bare feet. He felt the magic building up around him, dredged from Jörð’s belly, teased in spirals up their legs to loop around their waists, only to burst from their heart chakras, crashing into his. The chanting echoed in his head, chasing the sprites from every crevice of his soul.

  Like she had warned, they came banging on the door of his core identity, demanding safe harbour. After all, they could not bond to this foreign land, and their Vital Essence would surely burn up and be scattered to the four winds.

  But damn it, he had bonded with them. He didn’t want to leave them exposed on this hill, waiting to die.

  The energy pushed into him from every angle, the pressure threatening to topple his internal structure. Stop! Stop! His tongue was limp and useless. The half-Elf, who had lived his life by telling stories, and he was powerless to say a word to save himself.

  Well, Nikolaj, old chap. It’s been nice knowing you.

  The sprites’ screaming replicated the pitch of a dentist’s drill.

  I suppose it’s time to open the door.

  Nikolaj drew in his last breath as himself alone, and yes, this was worse than death, this was fracturing his Essence because he lacked the heart to banish Raphael’s kin.

  Blue and green wheeled above his head as the magic reached its crescendo.

  Wait, he thought, that’s not magic.

  The Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights. They streaked the sky, horizon to horizon, as if a cosmic painter had given up on his masterpiece and tossed his paint pot across the canvas.

  The accompanying magnetic blast shot through his body, blasting the circle of witches apart. They tumbled down the hill, leaving Nikolaj, free, alone, and horrified as the city of Inverness started to shake in the distance.

  The sprites clamoured inside him, closer to his thoughts than ever before.

  Mother! Mother! Mother!

  She has perished!

  Our Father has ascended!

  In his mind’s eye, Nikolaj saw Raphael. The gentle-hearted amulet thief, the violet-eyed imp. Not a sprite at all.

  He wore a crown of amber and gold.

  Raphael – Freyr – the missing god.

  14

  King of Renewal

  The Fae retreated to the safety of the palace island. Ava twirled on her heels as she wandered around the grand entrance hall, awed by the variety and colours, the flashes of silver and sparkle of every face, the wings so delicate that they almost didn’t exist at all.

  The earthquake had stopped for now, but they were waiting for the aftershocks. Theo had left her with Aurelia while he reinforced the magic supporting the foundations of the palace. This fortress must not fall.

  Envoys were on the way, the head of every royal battalion across the Nine Realms due to arrive any moment.

  Raphael – Freyr – had called for the War Council. He sat rigid on Aurelia’s throne, his limbs longer and more filled out than they had been, his black curls peppered with gold specs. And the crown – its inlaid amber stones caught the dawn light pouring through the high, narrow windows.

  Lorenzo stood behind the throne, bow in his hands, an arrow pointed at the floor, ready for aiming at a moment’s notice. What must Lorenzo be thinking? His little sprite had metamorphosed into this lithe, regal king.

  Not even Aurelia had known Raphael’s true identity.

  ‘What does this mean for us?’ Ava asked, as Aurelia returned from calming a group of agitated subjects.

  ‘It must mean war,’ she said, her expression pained. ‘Akhen ensured it by murdering Freyja. Such a deed cannot go unpunished.’

  ‘I can see Ragnarök on the horizon,’ Ava said. She pushed back the vision straining to capture her in its threats. ‘If we don’t get to Menelaus, he’ll be drawn back into Loki’s army.’

  Aurelia touched Ava’s hand. ‘The Norns have given us our clue,’ she said. ‘I realised what it meant when Freyr took my throne. “To fall is to rise, to rise is to return to the path of resolution.”’ She paused. ‘Look at Raphael. He has ascended because he reached the end of his purpose. The amulet was destroyed, and now he once again rules Alfheim.’

  Ava puzzled out her meaning. ‘So you’re saying that Menelaus has a purpose of his own to fulfil – in Hel?’

  ‘One that may work to our advantage,’ Aurelia said. ‘Wait until the Council convenes. Freyr’s return has given me an idea.’

  15

  War Council

  By the time I had finished warding the palace – the building had more angles than a fractal – Aurelia’s court had split into factions.

  Malik and Sayen had arrived with a contingent of Elves, wearing the garb of the various clans, including the current rulers of Alfheim, who looked a little bewildered. The remaining three corners of the hall were defended by ice giants, fire giants, and dwarves respectively. Familiar faces from Akhen’s assault at the Well of Urd filled the middle, already thronged with Fae. I was disappointed not to see Thor and his wife, Sif, among the deities. They hadn’t been with the others at the Well either.

  Odin, Thor and… I approached Raphael – Freyr, or Frey, as it was pronounced. The very god I had been sacrificing to my whole life in the Clemensen temple. And he had been watching over our family since the dawn of humanity, ensuring our power didn’t lead us to tyranny. He had changed, his face maturing into that of a man in his mid-twenties, instead of the tender shoot he had appeared to be before. I stood in front of his throne, unsure.

  He watched me intently, eyes wide as a fawn’s, saying nothing. The commotion of eclectic language between the envoys petered out. They wanted to see how I was going to react to Freyr’s return. No one knew how my heart had softened for the sprite, the sprite who was so much more than an Elder – a god, but also a friend.

  ‘My Lord,’ I said, kneeling at the foot of the steps leading to the throne. In my periphery, I saw Ava joining me at Raphael’s feet. ‘I believe it’s fair that we represent the Midgard-born.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and though his voice remained as soft as a chick’s feathers, it took flight across the hall. ‘And I believe everyone who needs to attend is here.’

  I didn’t agree. This was a war council. Uncle Nikolaj, General in the Elven-Fae War, belonged in this room, mad or not. It frustrated me that we hadn’t had the chance to find him and free him from the sprites that Akhen had used to torture Raphae
l – if it was even possible.

  Freyr stood up. ‘Queen Aurelia and I have summoned you to announce the slaughter of my beloved twin – my sister, Freyja.’

  The floor shook as the giants stamped against the marble. Ava grabbed my arm. Arguing broke out among the factions, and they hurtled questions at Freyr.

  He held up his hands for calm.

  The palace doors flew open, a blast of coloured, refracted light blinding us as a ten-foot monstrosity of a man shoved his way to the centre of the hall. His neat, white beard and ice-blue eyes matched his wintry clothing, as if he’d roamed down from the mountain to join us.

  Or a rainbow bridge.

  A great horn was hooked over his belt.

  ‘Heimdall!’ someone shouted, confirming my suspicion. Heimdall – the guardian of the bridge between Midgard and Asgard, and the one responsible for sounding the horn that would signal the start of Ragnarök.

  And he was pissed off.

  He didn’t kneel – he ran up the steps, ignoring Aurelia, Freyr, and Lorenzo, and turned to address the crowd. ‘Dwellers of Yggdrasil, our enemies are lice eating at the very supports of the Nine Realms. Look amongst yourselves and tell me who is not present. Who has come to pledge their fealty to the gods of light, and who has remained in the home of darkness? The Midgard Serpent – Loki’s spawn – has destroyed our princess!’

  If he keeps this up, Ragnarök will begin tonight.

  Ava whispered in my ear, ‘Theo, he loved Freyja.’ I didn’t ask her how she knew.

  And angry people do stupid things – like blow horns they have no business blowing.

  ‘Heimdall,’ Aurelia said, ‘do not barge your way into my home and presume to address the good people of the Nine Realms, whom I invited.’

  He didn’t budge. I ran up the steps and stood between him and Aurelia. I had to get in control of this; the whole situation was my fault. I trusted Akhen; I believed he’d wanted his wife back, and I’d played right into his hands. Never again would I allow someone to ruin me with ulterior motives.

  ‘If you’re so grieved by Freyja’s death,’ I hissed, ‘perhaps you should offer condolences to her brother, and then shut up and let him speak.’

  I was an ant compared to Heimdall’s rock, but after noticing Lorenzo’s arrow was trained right between his eyes, he huffed and retreated back down the steps, saluting Freyr with an arm braced against his chest.

  ‘Thank you, Theo,’ Freyr said, sounding like Raphael again. ‘As I was saying, I have lost the greatest love of my life. My sister.’

  Lorenzo’s grip weakened on his bow as if an arrow of pain had slipped out of his grasp and pierced his own heart. Even a smouldering vampire couldn’t compete with an immortal twin.

  ‘I have more cause than anyone to call for war.’ Freyr paused. ‘But I beg you not to waste the lives of your kin by bloodying the blade of fate.’

  ‘What would you have us do then?’ Heimdall shouted. ‘Wait in our beds like little children while the Serpent consumes the whole cosmos in fire?’

  Everyone clamoured at once. The sound of weapons leaving sheaths and kissing the air.

  I summoned Ormdreper and shouted at the top of my voice. ‘No one is taking up arms against Akhenaten. No one is seeking Loki’s head on a pike. Let the Ruler of the Sun and the King of Darkness fight against one another for supremacy. They will both lose.’

  I sprang down the steps and stalked into the middle of the hall, the gods and goddesses filling its core parting before me. ‘I am your defender. I will not fail you.’

  The dwarves laughed at me. Apparently, no one had told them I was the Gatekeeper of the Lífkelda and the only force capable of silencing the two greatest threats in history. Sayen found their king and shared the news. A few jaws dropped, which I admit, satisfied me a little.

  ‘I only ask for your cooperation,’ I said. ‘My friends and I must cross realms, open portals, and move through Yggdrasil to catch up with Akhen and defeat him. I don’t expect resistance.’ When had I started talking like Father, making demands? I had suffered too much heartache and loss to mince my words, and I could lose yet more with a snap of fate’s fingers. How I’d judged Father, when his motivation had been the same as mine. ‘Oh, and Heimdall, if you blow that horn before I say so, I’ll ram it down your throat.’

  ‘I’d like to see you try, boy,’ he muttered.

  ‘It’s not an idle threat,’ I said, turning to him. ‘We are destined for defeat if Ragnarök begins. If we have any chance, it means nipping Akhen’s threat in the bud.’

  ‘And Loki? He waits in the wings for his chance. And you worked with him.’

  ‘I was out of options,’ I said, ‘and because of me he’s contained in Hel until I let him out.’

  ‘Or he finds a way to escape.’ Heimdall retreated into the crowd, his anger diffused – for now.

  I sighed with relief.

  ‘How do you propose to kill the Serpent?’ That was Malik.

  A good question.

  Aurelia answered in my place. ‘Leave that to us, we have a plan.’ That was news to me.

  ‘It better be a good one, Your Highness,’ Malik said, ‘because we’re all doomed if it fails. My people are at your disposal if you require our assistance.’

  A similar pledge came from the remaining clans and races. Except the fire and ice giants. Aurelia was watching them, her mind ticking over. Did her plan have something to do with them?

  The meeting was over, and the factions brought gifts to Freyr, announcing their delight at his return. He’d been missing for…a while. He smiled and nodded, but said very little. Lorenzo placed a hand on his shoulder, but Freyr didn’t respond to his comfort either. Perhaps his mind was in shock.

  At last, Aurelia invited the guests to the feast that would be served in the palace courtyard.

  But we weren’t done with the interruptions. Redheart – who’d been patrolling the perimeter – flew in through the open window. ‘My Queen, a chariot is approaching the palace.’

  My heart froze. ‘Akhen’s carriage?’

  ‘It is the Consul’s, from the inscription on the side. Should we intercept?’

  ‘How did they get here?’ Aurelia’s usually pale skin turned scarlet with rage. ‘They were not invited.’

  ‘They exploited an opportunity like they always do,’ I said, thinking about how Akhen had used the Battle of Hellingstead and my temporary death to break through the wards surrounding Hellingstead Hall to steal the amulet. ‘And piggybacked someone else’s portal.’

  Aurelia hissed. ‘Let the brute in. I haven’t eaten human flesh in a while.’

  Freyr winced, his fingers gripping the side of the throne. Raphael would’ve turned to wind, but Freyr’s kingship required courage.

  ‘What do you think the chances are that he’s defecting?’ I asked Ava.

  The sound of the carriage’s wheels crossing the bridge floated into the hall. We were silent as we listened to the door shutting and the footsteps approaching the palace. I had imagined the Consul as a middle-aged politician-type, but the man who entered brimmed with self-confidence, his imposing frame and hooked nose signalling him as a fierce warrior in his own right. His golden cloak was laced with intricate, Egyptian symbols, the many-handed Aten embellished across the front.

  ‘I presume my invite was mislaid?’ He smiled, glancing around at his silent audience. ‘Tough crowd.’ He held out a scroll to Aurelia. ‘From the Magnificent Akhenaten, Beloved of Aten and Rightful Ruler of the Nine Realms.’ He winked at Ava, immediately raising my hackles.

  Aurelia snatched the scroll from his calloused hand.

  ‘I must say, I am impressed with your hospitality,’ the Consul said while Aurelia unrolled the parchment. ‘I expected at least three attempts on my life by now.’

  Ava shot Lorenzo a long stare, then bit her lip.

  ‘We are not as brutal as you,’ Freyr said, finding his voice again.

  The Consul shrugged. ‘Which is why you are destined
to perish under Aten’s fire.’

  ‘Don’t you dare threaten him,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not. I’m merely speaking the truth.’

  ‘What does it say?’ I asked Aurelia.

  ‘It says he will not accept our surrender. Aten requires that we all be exterminated.’

  ‘He’s trying to incite war,’ I said. ‘It won’t work.’ I eyed each faction leader in turn.

  ’No,’ the Consul said, ‘Akhenaten doesn’t like his time wasted. However, all those who fight for Aten shall be spared the inevitable. The boundaries between the Nine Realms are shifting closer together. Yggdrasil cannot take the strain. Soon, the Nine Realms shall become one great disc, and there will be no shadow where you can hide from Aten’s rule. Join us, or die. The choice is simple.’

  He shook his head at Aurelia. ‘Don’t expect the so-called Queen of the Fae to save you; now the Old Sorceress is dead,’ he said, referring to Freyja, ‘magic will wane. However, the offer is void for the Odin spawn.’ He waved at the gods and goddesses. ‘There is no place for your kind in the New Dawn.’

  He stepped closer to the throne. ‘Freyr, you should’ve remained a landvættir. Your sister has damned you by waking you up. It will be a pleasure to watch you and your Syphon burn together.’

  He spun on his heel, ready to leave.

  Lorenzo released his arrow. It whistled, cutting the flesh at the back of the Consul’s neck, slicing his windpipe. He collapsed onto the floor. ‘It’s a pleasure to watch you die,’ Lorenzo spat.

  Except the Consul didn’t die.

  He rolled over to his knees and looked Lorenzo straight in the eye as he tore out the arrow, the wound healing once it was freed. ‘Aten protects me,’ he said, ‘can you say the same for your sprite-god? Do you think he’d raise a finger to protect you? We shall find out.’

  This time, no one tried to stop the Consul leaving.

  That was until my anger erupted. Even if I managed to kill Akhen, what was to stop the Consul taking his place? What was to stop him killing my friends? May the gods judge me, but the Consul will still be more damned than I.