Wrath of Aten

by S. A. Ashdown

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Her lips bite into mine and I roll on top of her, cupping her breast under her white dress with one hand, and sliding the other up her thigh. She smells like lilacs and warm sunshine. ‘I don’t know where your hair ends and the wheat begins,’ she says.

  ‘And I don’t know what’s sky and what’s rainbow,’ I reply as she jumps on top and undoes the buttons on my shirt. I feel like I’m already dying just looking at her. My best friend, my guardian angel, and she’s mine. The best twenty-first birthday present I could ever have.

  ‘I love you,’ I croak, and she leans down, her hair blending with mine, and the warmth between her legs presses into the right place and for a while I cannot feel the ice that has been following me everywhere.

  ‘Theo,’ she says as she rolls off me, ‘I’m afraid too.’ She hooks her leg over mine and we gaze at each other, side by side. ‘But we’ll meet the future together. And when you wake up tomorrow morning, the first face you’re going to see is mine.’

  The azure sky above us suddenly fills with billowing storm clouds. As they rip open, Ava and I do up our buttons and zips and run towards Oakley Park.

  Ava shrieks as the downpour increases, taking shelter under the old oak tree in the middle of the path. ‘Come over here, you madman!’

  She’s referring to the fact I am standing in the open, staring at the raw power being unleashed across Hellingstead, and I feel the symbiotic stirring in my soul, fuelling the storm above us. ‘That’s me,’ I whisper, ‘that’s the Gatekeeper.’

  Ava is shivering in her white dress. I trot over and summon her a blanket. We are safe from the rain, so we sit down against the trunk and don’t say anything for a while. Then she picks up her handbag and pulls out a cupcake, a candle, and a small box of matches. ‘A good a time as any, I suppose,’ she says, unwrapping the cake and lighting the candle. ‘Happy birthday, Theo.’

  I take the cupcake from her.

  ‘Happy death-day, you mean.’

  Ava rolls her eyes and straddles my legs, the blanket around her shoulders and over my knees. Her hands support mine, so we’re holding the cake together.

  ‘What if I said you have one last choice, Theo? What if by blowing out this candle you were deciding the future of the whole world? Would you give this up to save it?’

  Her wet hair clings to her neck. I cannot look away. You are the whole world to me.

  I extinguish the candle between my fingers; there’s no need to blow it out, no need to wish for anything more than I already have. ‘Ava, the Nine Realms aren’t enough of a reason to leave you. This – here, right now – you and me under this old oak in the pouring rain, it’s all I could ever want.’

  She seems sad and beautiful and happy at the same time. The rain and the light that creates the bow. ‘Come here, Ava,’ I say, feeling a pain in my chest. ‘Kiss me.’ I cup my hand around her face. ‘I choose this, Ava. I choose us.’

  Our lips crushing together, sending a chill like a shard of ice to shatter my heart completely.

  43

  Quake

  Lorenzo regarded the emergency council Freyr had convened in the Royal Forest. Malik and Sayen stood with him behind their king, while Nikolaj and Aurelia fronted the Elvish and Fae contingents respectively. He noted how those two refused to make eye contact. Michele, Elspeth, and the coven had chosen to remain in the relative safety of the low-lying huts in the Sarrow encampment.

  No one appeared comfortable on the mountain, but it was an improvement on being stuck in the city and towns below, as the quakes wracked the opulent buildings and shook half the Iepen out of their tree-homes. Although, Freyr appeared more concerned for the wildlife than the Elves themselves. Lorenzo smiled; his Raphael shone through the god’s cool exterior whenever he had the chance.

  ‘My Lord, what’s happening?’ asked an Iepen chieftain, almost as tall as Ullr but paler and far thinner. ‘How long can Alfheim withstand this before the volcano unleashes its fury?’

  The volcano, Lorenzo had learned, drew much of its fire from Muspelheim. The evident terror Aurelia induced in Freyr, when she had suggested Surt might have found a way to escape, shook Lorenzo more than any rumble in the ground.

  Nikolaj strode into the centre of the gathering. ‘I think I know,’ he said. ‘I have felt this rift before. Surt may well have awoken, but Theo’s death on the battlefield caused destruction in Hellingstead. I fear he is close to failure again.’

  Another shudder sent everyone clinging to the nearest trees. Nikolaj and Aurelia simply floated in the air with Freyr until it was over. ‘I must go to him.’

  ‘I shall go,’ Freyr said. ‘It’s my sword he has risked his life for.’

  ‘No!’ Nik returned to the ground. ‘No,’ he said, softening his tone. ‘My Lord, your people need you here. Theo is my responsibility – I should never have left his side in the first place.’

  Ullr stepped into the circle’s heart. ‘Nik, I will guide you.’

  ‘There’s no time,’ the old Elf said. ‘I must be quick. The Craven will do nicely.’

  Lorenzo eyed the mammoth bird sailing in the air currents around the volcano, the churning cauldron reflecting fire in her pupils. ‘Good luck with that,’ he said.

  ‘The Craven is temperamental,’ Freyr added.

  ‘So am I.’ Nik unleashed his sprites, and they shrieked and deafened half of Alfheim, until the Craven came crashing into the clearing. Nikolaj vaulted onto her back, taking Ullr’s shield as the giant gestured for him to take it. ‘Thank you, old friend. Wish me luck.’

  Lorenzo pulled Freyr out of the way as Nik turned the Craven around the clearing, kicking up the dirt, and ran the raven off the side of the mountain.

  For a moment they dipped out of sight. Just as Lorenzo was about to zip after him, Nikolaj soared into the sky, disappearing through a cloud. ‘Will he be able to find Theo?’ Malik asked.

  ‘Clemensens are stubborn,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Especially about each other. Besides, we’ll soon know if he doesn’t.’ He examined the patch of sky where Nikolaj had disappeared. A blur moved through the cloud. ‘What the heck is that? He can’t have returned already!’

  He nocked an arrow, Aurelia’s bodyguards following suit as the creature inside the cloud let out a familiar screech. It was a Craven. And it was heading straight for them. Something must have sent Nikolaj back, he thought.

  ‘Wait, hold your fire!’ he shouted, dropping his bow to the ground and climbing like a demented squirrel up the nearest large tree. He waved his arms around in the air. ‘It’s Rosalia! Rosalia! Over ’ere!’ At least, he was pretty sure it was her from Ava’s description and the fact she looked like a feminine yet equally terrifying version of Michele.

  Freyr left his post and flew into the sky, ready to greet the lone rider – Menelaus’s sister. She almost fell off the Craven as it attempted to land in the clearing, but the girl held on, jaw set and nails buried in its feathers. Yep, she’s definitely a De Laurentis.

  By the time Lorenzo shimmied back down the tree, Rosalia had dismounted and was brushing the grime off her hands. She started as he approached her, sticking out his hand. ‘I’m Lorenzo, pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Menelaus told me a lot about you on our travels,’ she replied, shaking it.

  ‘Where is he? Did he retrieve Brann?’

  She stared at Aurelia, momentarily struck by the Fae Queen’s half-human, half-iridescent face. ‘I need a drink,’ she said, ‘and then I very much need her help.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ Lorenzo said. ‘You and Menelaus escaped, almost got eaten by a soul-munching dragon, tricked Loki’s sons into letting you steal Surt’s sword – in the process exterminating most of his army – only to be ambushed by Akhen, who has Ava trapped in a sky-tower between realms?’ He had to pause for breath.

  They’d left the clearing after Rosalia’s arrival, with Aurelia and Freyr, and retreated to an ancient cave in the side of the mountain forest, which had comfortingly withstood millennia, ea
rthquakes, floods, volcanic explosions, and more besides. He wondered if Malik had arrived on Sarrow land yet and was telling Michele that his daughter had returned from the dead, just like Menelaus’s mother.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Rosalia took another swig of Redheart’s waterskin.

  ‘Then you were sent back to Helheim, where Loki revealed he wanted Akhen to have Brann, and made you reenact the whole thing while Persephone released the Craven and you sneaked away to steal Nefertiti’s soul from the Black Widow’s creepy web with the help of a pair of magical golden scissors.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And her soul is in your satchel now.’

  Rosalia patted the bag at her hip. ‘Which Ava believes only Aurelia can keep concealed.’

  He turned to Freyr. ‘Can vampires get migraines? I think I’m having one.’

  ‘I think we all have a headache,’ Freyr said, smiling, prompting a dimple to form in his cheek. Lorenzo ached. They’d had so little time to be alone. ‘So tell me, Rosalia, where are Menelaus and Persephone now?’

  She pulled down the brim of her hat – a nervous tic. ‘Giving Akhen what he thinks he wants,’ she said, her brown eyes glittering with malice. ‘And giving him what he deserves.’

  44

  Me, You, Her

  Ava held the soul in her cupped hands. The life contained inside the sphere beat in time with her pulse, a gentle thud thud she heard from within.

  She had obeyed Akhen’s instructions to the letter. Not a drop of water or crumb had passed her lips and she had bathed, washed and combed out her rainbow hair, and fixed the Egyptian-style wig to it. She wore nothing but the purple robe he had brought for her.

  It would be the last thing she’d do for him.

  ‘You are ready?’ Akhen stared out of the window, hands clasped behind his back.

  Ava checked her mental barriers, calming her nerves while she plugged the breaches with clusters of thoughts and random memories, just as Aurelia had taught her. ‘Once Menelaus is free, as agreed.’

  Akhen said nothing. A few moments later, a vision hit her between the eyes – Menelaus in the Forest of Dreams, returned to the spot where she had been stolen. ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘Yes.’ Both a lie and the truth, as her words and actions would be from this point on. Menelaus’s safety quelled one terror and opened her heart to a different one – she was alone with Akhenaten, Imperi Ducis of the Praefecti, Pharaoh and World-Eating Serpent.

  ‘Then let us begin.’ He faced her, the apparent sunset permeating the room around him to cast the illusion of a burning aura. Ava’s lip pulled back as he uncorked the vial of foul liquid and walked towards her. ‘You must drink this. It will hurt.’

  ‘What will it do to me?’

  ‘At the moment your Vital Essence is smooth. This will make it jagged so that Nefertiti’s soul can bind with it.’ He grinned. ‘If you don’t fully accept her soul, she’ll return to the vessel you’re holding, and shred yours in the process. Can you be a good girl?’

  Ava grimaced. It was now or never. Theo was counting on her. The Nine Realms were counting on her. Nothing could go wrong, otherwise this whole charade would come crashing down around her, along with Yggdrasil itself. To fail would mean lighting the spark of Armageddon – or Ragnarök – with her own hand.

  ‘Any last words?’ he said.

  She glowered at him, snatching the vial and gulping down the contents. ‘You’re a fucking evil shitbag. I feel sorry for Nefertiti, how’s that?’

  As the pain tore through her stomach, Akhen squeezed her shoulder, digging his sharp nails into her flesh and catching the sphere before she dropped it. He whispered in her ear as she hunched over. ‘A wasted sentiment. My Queen has no pity for you.’

  Ava gagged but the fluid was already seeping into her system.

  Raking through her cells. Reassembling her soul.

  Ava screamed until her throat was on fire, clawing at her own skin. There was no escape as she collapsed across Akhen’s feet, watching through tear-filled eyes as he opened the vessel, kneeled beside her, and tipped the soul into her mouth, closing his palm over her face until she swallowed it all.

  Her stomach seemed to fizz away, leaving a gaping hole where it once was.

  The alien Essence filtered through the gaps rent by the potion, changing her from Ava to Ava plus. Plus another. Just like Theo, she thought, the last thought that was completely her own. This is what happened to him when he became the Gatekeeper. Except he didn’t know what was happening.

  Didn’t he? Ava floated above the vision, watching herself and Theo in the rain, huddling under the tree in Oakley Park where Malachi had turned Lorenzo. A cupcake. A lit candle. A kiss.

  A decision. Ava, the Nine Realms aren’t enough of a reason to leave you.

  The couple disappeared.

  Now Theo was alone, unconscious, covered in frost, his eyelashes heavy with snow, his lips pale blue. Theo. Theo. I’m coming. Hold on, please. You can’t leave me, remember?

  Hello? Is that Dorian down there?

  The pain abated – the fusion was complete. Persephone’s voice.

  It’s Theo. Ava thought back. He’s dying.

  He makes a habit of that. This body is very…delicate. Are you sure we can do this?

  Ava couldn’t take her attention away from her beloved, freezing to death because of his inability to see past the life he wished they’d shared. Well, his weakness must be her strength. His grief, her wholeness.

  Akhen shook her. ‘My Queen, my love, are you awake?’

  Ava opened her eyes. So much hope bore into her from the intensity of his expression. Gods, Rosalia, I hope you did as I asked.

  She drew on her gift – her birthright: the light of truth, the light of prophecy, enhanced by Frigg and empowered by Persephone’s divinity. She linked with the dark and ruthless mind of Nefertiti and cloaked herself in the Royal Wife’s memories and beliefs down to the last molecule of her being.

  Ava sat up as Akhen wrapped his arms around her. She gripped the side of his long face with her palm, pinching his earlobe between her thumb and forefinger as she’d always done for her husband. Then her lips met with his, tongues lashing together like the mouth and the tail of the ouroboros itself.

  The thrill ran through her body, hardening her nipples. ‘It is you, my love.’ He let his tears flow freely. ‘Millennia of labour and you are mine again.’

  ‘Hush,’ Ava said, in flawless Egyptian. ‘Never again will we be parted.’

  He carried her to the bed, exposing those nipples as he yanked off her purple robe, catching her breast between his teeth. She groaned. ‘No, stop! The girl you chose for me is strong. She is fighting. I fear until her hope is vanquished she will resurface if we try and complete our union.’

  Rage flooded Akhen’s expression. His hands threatened to crush her throat. ‘The bloody bitch!’ He hissed, and as suddenly as his rage appeared, it softened, a choke replaced with a flurry of kisses. ‘Forgive me. No matter. I have waited this long and my yearning for you shall only brighten my blade. I shall quarter that worm of hers and bring him back on a platter for you both to admire. And then we shall make love amongst the burning corpses of Yggdrasil.’

  Ava embraced him, hooking her legs around his hips, yanking his hair as she had on their wedding night, proving herself the lioness when he had expected the tame virgin. ‘Then what are you waiting for? You’re not the Syphon’s enemy – you are his god, as you are mine. Prove it. Prove it to them all. I will be waiting in this tower and when you return victorious, we can watch Yggdrasil rain its cinders together.’

  Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her again. A bright light danced behind her lids and when she opened them again, Akhen had left to do her bidding.

  END OF PART TWO

  Interlude

  Nikolaj

  We feel the eddies jostle the Craven as if we are tied to the whims of Odin’s breath. The devilish bird flings us about but our – my – sprites have sown my
limbs to her feathers.

  The Utgard Fortress glistens, a crystal in a white wasteland. We glance at the patchwork of brown moors and mature forests running alongside the Iving River in the distance. We’re in the right place. It fills us with both pride and a sense of fatalism that our nephew followed the same path Nikolaj – no, I – once ventured with Ullr. History repeating itself.

  First Espen.

  Now Theo. Our dear, arrogant, gentle-hearted boy. We should have clung to the burden of being the Gatekeeper but the choice was never given.

  Blue light shines into the sky, a beacon through the snowstorm. We shake the frost out of our eyes. The Craven screams as we reach the barrier surrounding the Fortress. Utgard-Loki holds up his spear of icicles as a warning. We care not for his posturing.

  We’re in no doubt as to where he sent Theo; we should’ve learnt, we should’ve seen it coming but Ava’s kidnap was too much of a distraction. My thoughts aren’t slow. We just all think separate things at once. We must pick out the right words. And we are so tired of pretending Nikolaj is in charge of us.

  The Craven slices through the wards. Let the ice-giant roar as we pass over his head, for he cannot stop Odin’s ravens, he cannot stop Nikolaj Clemensen, he cannot stop me.

  Nikolaj knows the legend of the Maze. But how do we fight against the memories we wish we had? How do we see through the lies they sing to us as we lie in our coffins?

  Which of Odin’s messengers are you, Craven – Huginn, faster than thought, or Muninn, with power over memory? Let it be the latter, with the swiftness of the former.

  We cross the barrier, plunge into the twists and turns of delusions, soar above it.

  A thousand days and nights smack us in the face. Aurelia in our arms, her petal-soft lips, her breath which seems to ignite the four winds.