Wrath of Aten

by S. A. Ashdown

  ‘I spent long enough listening to his schemes,’ she said. ‘I know him better than my own father.’

  Michele. He must know I’m here. And Julian. He couldn’t let himself dwell on it. ‘But why wait until now?’ he asked as they continued to descend into the bowels of the city. ‘He’s had eons.’

  ‘And a lot of that time he was chained to the Midgard Serpent – the sea snake – for killing Baldr. Then after that he was confined to Hel. You remember Eggther’s song? All I know is that Loki wants this fight between the Gatekeeper and Akhenaten. They are destined to kill each other and once they do, he is perfectly placed to invade Asgard and seize the throne…or worse.’

  Rosalia’s theory provided another urgent reason to steal Surt’s sword; if he didn’t have it, the fire giant wouldn’t be such an enormous threat to Freyr and the other gods.

  At last, the barracks came into view – more a palace reminiscent of the Taj Mahal, inlaid with jewels he assumed had been mined by the dwarves.

  ‘What are we going to say to Narvi and Vali?’ he said, hanging back from the long, straight road that led to the entrance.

  Rosalia kept going. ‘Haven’t you been listening? Loki’s ambition has given us the perfect reason.’

  Rosalia talked her way past the perimeter guards, Menelaus playing the silent but deadly escort, his glare fixed on any vampire that blocked their path as they walked through the grand hallway with its mosaic walls. ‘Where are Narvi and Vali?’ she demanded, feigning exasperation. ‘We’re on a schedule here.’

  After the guards confiscated Rosalia’s newly acquired club, they were led though a series of pointed archways, reaching the south gardens. Two channels of water divided the gardens into quadrants, intersecting at the centre, where a gateway with fluted columns, similar to the Arch of Titus in Rome, rose out of the water.

  Menelaus paused, observing the undead soldiers practising their formations in each quadrant, under the watchful eyes of their commanders, who were sitting in the shaded pavilions on either side of the gardens.

  ‘The barman was right,’ Rosalia whispered. ‘Look at the relief on the keystone. Whoever carved the giants musculature was very skilled, the level of detail…’

  ‘And?’

  Rosalia smiled. ‘Forgive me. I mean to say you’d be forgiven for thinking the lines of the giants’ faces were intentional. But they are cracks. See the cluster in the top middle of the keystone? It radiates out and down the columns.’

  Menelaus nodded. ‘But why is the gateway surrounded by water?’

  ‘I suspect to counteract the lake of fire on the other side.’

  He looked through the arch. Bars protected the front and back entrances, yet he could see right through the structure to the other half of the gardens. ‘I’m guessing you mean in Muspelheim?’ He returned his attention to the squads of vampires, who had stopped marching to pair off and practise hand-to-hand combat. ‘No one seems to want to go too near the thing.’

  Rosalia nudged his hip. ‘They’re coming.’

  Menelaus stepped forward as Narvi and Vali glided down the causeway from their mutual pavilions, blocking them in to the left and right. He glanced behind to confirm his suspicion – yep, guards filled the doorway too. The only means of escape lay ahead, not on the mud-trodden lawn, but the long, narrow channel. He was contemplating running for the gateway when Rosalia marched over towards the twin on her side. ‘It’s about time,’ she said, ‘Loki said you’d have the gateway open by now.’

  Narvi – or Vali – halted and flared the nostrils of his broad, flat nose. ‘I know you,’ he said. ‘Persephone’s plaything? What gives a slave like you the right to address me, General Narvi of Loki’s Great and Fierce—’

  ‘We really don’t have time for pleasantries,’ she said. ‘Loki requires Brann. We’re here to retrieve it as he’s…indisposed.’ Narvi looked unconvinced.

  Menelaus had followed her. ‘Preferably before the cracks widen enough to let the fire giants through,’ he added.

  Vali had caught up – like his twin, he was twice Menelaus’s height. ‘Why would Father want that,’ he asked, ‘when Surt is good as useless without it?’

  Menelaus turned aside to allow Rosalia to explain to both of them at once. ‘Ragnarök is close,’ she said, ‘but Loki and Surt have yet to solidify their alliance. His Highness needs a bargaining chip to cool Surt’s rage so he’ll listen to reason.’

  ‘Father hasn’t contacted us. Where is your writ?’

  Menelaus held his breath. ‘You’re lucky,’ Rosalia said, fishing a roll of parchment from her saddle bag. ‘We almost lost it to Nidhug on the way here.’ She presented the roll to Narvi and tapped her foot impatiently.

  What the heck has she just given him? Whatever it was, he admired her nerve.

  Narvi nodded. ‘That’s his seal,’ he said, satisfied.

  Vali snatched it from him, scanning Menelaus’s body. ‘And how do you, Horde-boy, propose to steal it?’

  ‘I have certain skills,’ he said.

  ‘Slipping through cracks one of them, is it?’

  ‘You’ll soon find out.’

  Vali shrugged. ‘Bring up the dwarf-witch!’ The guards at the door hustled, disappearing inside. Narvi and Vali went to address their men, who began to form a perimeter around the gateway.

  ‘You never told me you had a writ,’ Menelaus said.

  Rosalia smiled. ‘It’s not,’ she said. ‘Narvi and Vali can’t read. They don’t like anyone to know and they can’t appear to be questioning Loki’s orders either.’

  ‘And I thought Hellos was devious.’

  ‘It worked, didn’t it?’

  ‘Funny, that’s what he said about pretending to poison you.’

  The humour of the moment drained away as the guards dragged a young, female dwarf into the garden, throwing her to the ground. She rolled onto her back, pushing her matted hair out of her face.

  Menelaus recognised a glint of defiance in her eyes – something feral. When Narvi prowled over, she snarled, biting his forearm as he leaned down and gripped her by the hair.

  He dragged her towards the gateway. ‘Time to do your bit,’ he hissed. ‘Loki says its time.’

  ‘Loki is a fool!’

  Narvi lifted her by her neck.

  Menelaus stormed across the garden. ‘Put her down! She’s not to come to any harm.’ He took the educated guess that they needed the dwarf to do their bidding. ‘We need her to keep the gateway open long enough for us to return.’

  Narvi dropped her and spat though his teeth. ‘I’ll have my fun with you later. Open the portal.’

  The dwarf-witch spun round and narrowed her eyes at Menelaus. ‘You’re not like the others,’ she said, ‘is that why Loki sent you?’

  Narvi lifted his hand, ready to smack her. Menelaus stepped in front of him. ‘She’s no use with her brains splattered over the floor.’ He turned back to her. ‘Yes, I’m different. That’s why Loki sent me.’

  ‘That’s what I just said to you.’

  ‘Well, he did.’

  ‘Did he indeed?’

  ‘Hurry up, witch. Don’t forget those who remain in our dungeon.’

  The surface of her defiance crumbled – a flinch, a small movement, but enough to prove what she was willing to do. ‘It might not work. I might blast the gateway into a million pieces. The fire giants might be lined up on the other side, ready to trample us underfoot.’

  Menelaus smiled. ‘I don’t know your name but I’ve been through too much shit for this not to work. I’m Loki’s pawn just as much as you are.’ I’m getting that damn sword, he thought, and the first thing I’m going to do with it is set this goddamn city of vampires on fire.

  Narvi grunted – perhaps he felt the same way about his father. He stalked off and joined Vali at the intersection, throwing several glances back at them.

  ‘My name is Jancit…Princess Jancit.’

  ‘Menelaus—’

  ‘Ah, like the Spartan King.’
/>
  And just like him, I have trouble holding onto women. Menelaus smiled. ‘My Lady, I’m counting on you to get us back in one piece. I’ll make it worth your while. You have my word.’

  She glanced at the flat-nosed twins. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ she said. ‘For whatever the word of Loki’s servant is worth.’ Jancit tightened the belt around her tartan-esque skirt and rolled up her sleeves. ‘I’m the last of my kind who knows how to work this thing – in theory. Don’t blame me if you get stuck there.’

  He touched her arm, a brush that went by in a blink. ‘If you want the chance to continue your reign, Princess, you’ll make that theory real.’

  ‘Don’t threaten me.’

  ‘It’s not a threat,’ he said, as Rosalia took her position beside him. ‘It’s a promise.’

  Jancit stared at him. ‘Let’s get this done.’ She strode forward and waded into the channel. The vampires, who had gathered around, reared back, as if they were afraid of what the water might do to them. ‘Come,’ Jancit said, beckoning them to join her.

  Rosalia and Menelaus stepped down into the water, standing on each side of Jancit. She took their hands. ‘Neither of you are dead. Nor are you alive. I cannot say how the heat will affect you.’ She closed her eyes, muttering under her breath.

  The water crept up his body – and Rosalia’s – a thin layer of liquid that seeped through their clothing and clung to the skin, including his face and hair, his eyelids, his lips. Moisture clung everywhere but his nostrils. ‘That will buy you time. These waters are special, which is why the others are afraid.’

  She tightened her grip. ‘I’d close your eyes for this bit unless you want to go blind.’

  Menelaus squeezed his eyes closed. Jancit didn’t chant, she hummed. The vibration built in her throat, travelled down her chest, and rolled into the bed of the channel – Menelaus mistook his trembling legs for trepidation before realising it was the ground shaking as she sent pulses to the gateway.

  He saw the gateway in his mind, as if Jancit was spreading her vision through her touch. The crack in the keystone shuddered but did not grow. No, the crack didn’t grow.

  The gaps between the stones did.

  White, searing light streamed around the stones, radiating across the gardens like the sun. Vampires all around them screamed.

  Menelaus shielded his face with his free arm. The ground continued to shake, Jancit’s humming growing in volume and urgency, reminding him of Penny and Malachi on Black Down, delivering men to Hel.

  Her wordless song resounded in his ears, buzzing in his head.

  I can’t cope with this. The vibrations shook his bones until breaking point.

  And then it stopped, plunging him into silence.

  ‘Menelaus?’ He felt his sister twining her fingers with his own. ‘Menelaus. Open your eyes.’

  As he obeyed, the wall of heat smacked into them, giving him a glimpse of the molten veins threading the landscape before knocking them both off the side of the volcano.

  Menelaus shook off the soot clinging to his clothes, thankful for Jancit’s anti-burning barrier. He peered up the side of the volcano, amazed that they hadn’t been ignited by the churning rivers of flame that crisscrossed it.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked Rosalia, who was crouching down. He touched her shoulder.

  She lifted her head, revealing the map unrolled in her hands – his sister didn’t hang about. ‘Hot,’ she said, smearing the soot across her cheek. ‘I think we’re in the dead middle of Muspelheim. The volcano itself must be the equivalent gateway.’

  ‘Okay, and how the heck do we find Brann?’

  Rosalia stood up. ‘Look behind you.’

  In the middle distance, a bolt of yellow light shot into the heavens. ‘Don’t suppose you have anything in that side-satchel to fly us over the lava?’

  ‘I’ve got you.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Menelaus, you underestimate yourself. You’re a vampire down here, even though you have the blood of a witch and the heart of a human. Crouch down.’ He hesitated. ‘Go on.’

  Menelaus leaned forward and bent his knees, relived that his sister wasn’t heavy as she climbed onto his back. ‘We’re taking a shortcut through the clouds,’ she said. ‘You’ll need a running jump. What are you waiting for?’

  ‘You didn’t say “giddy up”’.

  Rosalia banged her heels into his sides. ‘It’s been a while since I was on horseback.’

  Menelaus eyed the lava lakes between them and the light. ‘Get ready for the ride of your life. And death.’ He uncorked the bottle of blood he’d bought at the drinking den and drained it.

  Menelaus ran, outpacing the heat chasing them like a many-clawed beast across the flat landscape. He thought about Theo, wondering how his own quest was progressing, and Ava – the glimpses of her rainbow hair had stopped altogether.

  Rosalia’s quickening breath warmed his neck. As he leapt into the air, he saw Michele in his mind’s eye, and Elspeth, wearing Isobel’s face, just as Narvi reflected Vali. It was as if the hands of his mother and aunt were beneath him, pushing against his feet, propelling him into the sky.

  They landed unharmed on the other side of the fire lake, Rosalia whooping in his ear as he took the next running jump. He laughed as the atmosphere beat around him, feeling free, weightless. The power of invisibility was one thing.

  But he had always wanted to fly.

  Menelaus ground his boots into the sooty bank to avoid the plasma blast that shot up in front of them. His sweat melded with Jancit’s watery barrier but his internal heat had nearly burnt up the energy he’d extracted from the blood.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ he said, ‘if this is the land of the fire giants, where are they?’

  The ground shifted beneath his feet, five tendrils poking out nearby like coral. ‘Menelaus, I might be wrong, but that looks like a hand.’

  We’re running along the backs of sleeping giants.

  And waking them up.

  Menelaus hitched Rosalia higher on his back and adjusted his grip. They’d covered about half the distance but the lava lakes increased in frequency from this point on – one misjudged leap and not even Jancit’s protection would save them. I’ve come too far to let everyone down.

  He backed up and counted the beats of the geysers exploding across the plain, timing his jumps between flareups. Soon it became a rhythm, a blend of mathematics and musical timing. His life throbbed as brightly in his mind: all those times his reflexes had adverted disaster; thriving on little sleep; strength without work – how hadn’t he looked in the mirror and seen the vampire beneath the surface?

  He stumbled.

  Beasts of rock and flame unfurled into the sky from the earthy ring that circled the mounted beacon, an unbroken chain of demons ready to obliterate them. Fuck.

  ‘Menelaus? What are we going to do?’

  He swallowed hard. ‘This realm isn’t controlled by Hel or Loki, right?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  He clapped his hands. ‘Finally. Let’s see how good they are at smiting an invisible foe.’

  He let the flesh between the wispy-edges of his body melt away, Rosalia protected from sight because of their contact. The ring of giants roared, stomping towards them, their footfall enhancing Menelaus’s jumps.

  ‘Menelaus, duck!’

  He threw himself to the ground as a huge fist flew over his head. A moment later, the giants had passed, leaving them free to approach the beacon. ‘See, “duck” is a useful word.’

  Rosalia laughed. ‘I’ve learnt so much from you. Duck is an imperative and an animal.’

  So close now. ‘I think you can walk from here,’ Menelaus said.

  They approached the outcrop, the rocky slabs slotted together to form an altar, with steps leading up to it at all angles. He tested the steps with his foot in case they crumbled or their movement awakened any other mythological creature raring to tear them in two.

  ‘Hurry, brother. The giants wi
ll soon realise we fooled them.’

  One, two, three, go. Menelaus took her hand and dashed to the altar, shielding his eyes against the bolt of solid light coming from Brann. I can sharpen my vision by absorbing more light, he thought, so maybe I can shut out some light too. He concentrated on his feet, attempting to veil them in darkness. He slowly removed his hand from his eyes – it worked, just as if he’d slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

  As they reached the altar, Menelaus glanced over his shoulder. As Rosalia had warned, a ring of fiery blobs were galloping on four limbs back to the platform. ’Menelaus, can you see anything? I can’t take my hand away.’

  He tugged her hat down like a visa over her eyes. ‘Keep that there – only look at your feet. I’m okay.’ He walked closer to the altar. ’You were right, Rosalia. The light must be coming from Brann. I don’t get it – why would he leave it here undefended, apart from the other giants?’

  But they didn’t have time to ponder. The giants had almost reached them. If this didn’t work, their souls would add to the soot that coated the land. Menelaus seized Brann’s hilt, lodged in the mound, and placing each foot on either side for leverage, pulled it clean out.

  Easier than he had expected. He fell onto his back, the light shifting across the sky with the movement of the blade. Rosalia turned away. Menelaus watched in awe as Brann shrank into proportion with his body, its topside a dull, pulsing red, while the underside threw out its searing shadow.

  The rock underneath him juddered with the weight of several hundred giants. He rolled onto his feet, pulling Rosalia to him so they both faced the dark side of Brann. ‘Lift up your hat,’ he said, ‘you’re going to want to see this bit.’

  She tilted the brim back over her forehead as Menelaus held up the bright side towards the oncoming stampede, its pure light bursting each being into burning coals as he edged around the altar, destroying everything in the panorama. He wondered if they saw him before they died but decided it didn’t matter; the sun’s shadow was just as deadly as its fire. He thought of Belle and Isis, leaders of the Solem Umbra who had risked so much to revolt against Akhen’s persecution of their kind. He’d be damned if he’d let Surt and Loki take Akhen’s throne of bones once Theo defeated him.