Starlight glittered on the smooth horn-bone as Heimdall lifted his head, his great chest expanding as his lungs filled with air. I unclipped Thor’s hammer from my belt, the size and weight of it increasing in my palm, and lobbed it, smashing the horn into a thousand little pieces that sank through the bridge. ‘I told you not to do that!’
Heimdall stared at his empty hands. ‘You stupid boy! What have you done?’
I pointed at Akhen’s advancing army. The pharaoh must’ve taken advantage of the thinning veil to take his shot at Asgard. If we could see the earth from here, what was to stop him starting from the opposite direction? ‘If we don’t destroy that bastard ourselves, no one else stands a chance. You’ll be leading lambs to the slaughter. Vent your rage at the evil cretin who murdered Freyja.’ I paused. ‘How exactly do you mean to defend the bridge?’
Heimdall smiled. ‘By fire,’ he said, ‘and by wind. They don’t call Asgard the Windy City for nothing.’ He squatted down, circling his left hand in the air until fire materialised, and drew back his right, generating air around it. Then he pushed the wind into the fire, building a wall that he shoved down the length of the bridge.
I knew the second it collided with Akhen’s army that it wasn’t going to work. The pharaoh’s unification with Aten was no mere delusion, and the Son of the Sun couldn’t be burned. His army continued, streaming through the flames, but at least the wind had blown the outmost flanks of men off the sides, sending them into the abyss.
‘Any other tricks?’
Heimdall wiped the sweat off his forehead. ‘We need to divide them. If a force like that breaks into Asgard…’
‘Break the bridge.’
‘What?’
‘Break the goddamned bridge! We’ll fight on the veil. Odin’s army of the dead can fly, right? As far as I know, Akhen’s men can’t. That way, they’ll have to face me. They’ll have to slaughter every last one of us to get to the city.’ Never mind the fact that if I died, there’d be no Windy City. ‘Do it now!’
Heimdall shook his head. ‘You, young warlock, are either very brave or very—’
‘Desperate. Yeah, I know.’
‘I’m not sure if it’s possible. It has not been foreseen.’
‘That’s fantastic. Means it might work.’
He frowned, but squatted down again, this time forcing his palms deep into the coloured light. I placed my hands on his shoulders. ‘I’ll help.’ I roared in my head at the Gatekeeper and released it from its cage. The magic poured into Heimdall and into the bridge.
The whole universe seemed to shake.
And the rainbow road snapped like a branch struck by lightning.
Akhen’s glorious golden army fell, their capes flying up as they crashed into the Midgardian Veil.
I glanced behind me, admiring the splendour of Mum and Father’s matching breastplates, and brandished Freyr’s sword – the signal. Trumpets blared as I leapt off the bridge, ready to obliterate Akhen and everything he stood for.
I landed on the moon, or the veil-equivalent of it. Every object existed in every dimension in a different way, but I still hadn’t worked out the relationship between realms, veils, and dimensions. But I didn’t have time to ponder the mysteries of the universe.
I had to save it.
Where was Akhen? On the other side of the planet, the sun behind his back. His army was scattered, and from my vantage point, it appeared that the fall had decimated his men – that is, perhaps killed one in every ten. He has thousands. Thousands of men who hate Pneuma. I’d once believed Father’s constant warnings about the Praefecti to be sheer paranoia, born out of grief, but in that moment, I absorbed and appreciated his foresight and wisdom.
I’d also once told him I wished I wasn’t a Clemensen.
Now I felt nothing but pride. ‘Make your move, Akhen,’ I whispered, as I watched my parents’ army slide down the wilting, Asgardian end of the bridge, taking flight above Earth and forming into ranks. A chain of trumpets echoed a single tune: attack.
‘Good luck killing the dead.’ I laughed, and despite the distance between us, I believed Akhen heard me. My smugness diluted a little when his men unleashed magic that rightfully belonged to warlocks and witches, Proteans and vampires. But the Golden Knives weren’t Pneuma. Each minute use of magic tugged at the Gatekeeper, signalling its origin.
Where did they get it from? I asked it.
Hmmm… It is stolen. Stolen from our children.
Akhen has been stripping the powers from Pneuma for centuries, I thought. This is why; to weaponise his army with magic.
Brann acted as his standard, drawing Akhen’s army close to him. I focused my super-sharp vision, picking out a band of twelve men and women surrounding their leader. The King’s Guard.
Where was my personal guard?
Summon them, the Gatekeeper said. Bring those you trust to your side.
The only person I wanted was Ava. I still didn’t know where she was. My only hope lay in Freyja’s promise. I could at least protect her from this, from witnessing a war to determine the fate of the Nine Realms. I couldn’t face her watching me fail. If I won, I would find her and never let her go.
Lorenzo. I want Lorenzo. Nikolaj and Ullr. And my coven.
It was as if I’d taken a knife to the fabric of time and space; moon dust exploded, and when the cloud faded, my warriors were with me. Lorenzo was trembling, Freyr holding tightly onto him. Without thinking, I unhooked Thor’s ambrosia from my belt and pressed it to Lorenzo’s lips. He drunk deeply, his eyes the same colour as the moon. I screwed the cap back on.
As soon as the ambrosia hit his bloodstream, he jumped to his feet and threw his arms around my neck. ‘Surt’s contained for now. Thanks for saving us – again. I presume it was you?’ He gestured to the coven, who all looked very odd, their hair standing up on ends like Nikolaj’s had done. Nikolaj, who seemed distinctly normal. ‘’Ere, where are we?’
‘Front row seats for the Final Battle,’ I said, struggling to keep my tone light. ‘Although I’m hoping you’d prefer a starring role.’
Lorenzo shot me a fang-y grin and jabbed me in the arm. I winced. ‘You said I could punch you when you returned from Jotunheim, remember?’
I sighed. ‘I was hoping you’d forget.’
‘Nope. What are your orders?’
‘You see that crazy pharaoh flying towards us with his flaming sword?’ Lorenzo’s complexion went slightly green. ‘Leave him to me. Take out his freakish coven of bodyguards.’ I nodded to my witches and warlocks. ‘You lot too. And remind your sprites that this is a fight for their beloved Earth.’
‘Yes, Liege.’ Their voices echoed together, their thoughts seemingly connected.
‘And me?’ What was I meant to do with Freyr?
‘Be in the wind. Help the armies below, keep them organised. It’ll do them good to see their lost god is with them. And make sure the Elves keep their arrows coming from the edge of Asgard.’
Freyr nodded. He and Lorenzo exchanged a long kiss, and the urge for Ava almost tore me apart.
‘Err, Theo, I can’t exactly fly,’ Lorenzo said, ‘and I’ve lost all my arrows.’
His eyes widened as Ormdreper materialised in my hand. ‘This is an extension of my magic. I bequeath it to you, Lorenzo. It’s only fair, as I wield Freyr’s blade. Remind our enemies that the Gatekeeper is everywhere…and not to fuck with his best man.’ I thrust it at him and he had no choice but to accept.
‘It’s lighter than I thought it would be,’ he said. He grabbed Freyr and they left the surface of the ‘moon’, my coven at their rear like a nest of bats.
‘What about us?’ Nikolaj asked. I glanced at him and Ullr, standing side by side. ‘I need you to be my shield. Watch my back. I expect Akhen has something up his sleeve. He always does.’
50
Hands Off My Cousin
Menelaus was standing shoulder to shoulder with Michele and Julian on the ramparts, surrounding Asgard, when the rainbow br
idge cracked apart. He wasn’t surprised; Theo’s response to the situation was typically Clemensen – run through the brick wall and take advantage of the resulting chaos. Menelaus preferred a more considered approach, but who could say what course of action was more effective?
He glanced at his father – his biological one anyway – and noted his hard-set expression, whereas Julian’s eyebrows bounced all over the place, watching the action. The Elves and Fae – led by Aurelia on horseback – thronged the ledge, stepping forward as Espen and Isobel’s army used the broken bridge as a cosmic slide.
‘Where is Odin?’ Menelaus asked. ‘Why isn’t he out there smiting people?’
‘Because then it won’t matter that Theo smashed Heimdall’s horn,’ Michele said. ‘Odin joining the battle will light the flame of Ragnarök and seal our fate.’ He glanced at Menelaus. ‘I may have overheard Odin consulting with Frigg.’
‘But using his army is okay?’
Michele shrugged. ‘It may be his army technically, but Theo’s parents are leading it.’ He stepped aside as a valkyrie with wild hair raced along the wall, her lips pulling back and revealing teeth sharper than Michele’s. Someone’s not a fan of vampires and dhampir.
When the Valkyrie passed, Menelaus turned away from the unsettling scene and peered into the lower left quadrant of the city, its pristine roads and physics-defying curved buildings breaking through the ground like metal flowers. Somewhere down there, Rosalia and Elspeth were busy spreading Odin’s edict to the inhabitants. Keep calm and trust in the Gatekeeper to protect you. Rosalia claimed she’d keep the city busy, and he’d learned to listen to his big sister.
Julian tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Son, look.’
Menelaus glanced round to spot Freyr sailing over the heads of his Elves. ‘He made it out of Alfheim!’ He clapped in relief; when Odin’s portal had closed, he hadn’t known whether the god-sprite and Lorenzo had escaped in time.
‘He’s heading for us,’ Michele said.
He’s right. The Elves and Fae cheered as they realised their god was safe, and the rear ranks averted their faces from the unfolding war to watch Freyr fly to the ramparts, landing next to Menelaus – well, an arms-length away, which was as close as Freyr liked to get.
‘My Lord,’ Menelaus said, bowing, along with Julian and Michele behind him. ‘You escaped. Surt?’
‘Contained for now. Lorenzo and the coven are with Theo. He sent me. Come.’ Freyr tugged his sleeve and pulled him off the ramparts. They dipped down as Freyr adjusted to bearing Menelaus’s weight, and then they were soaring over the lantern-lit hills towards Aurelia.
‘I’m the god of life, Menelaus. I cannot kill by my own hand. I’ve never even touched Istapp – I controlled it with my mind. The irony is that the only weapon that can save me from Surt is one I cannot wield.’ They hit the ground beside Aurelia’s horse. ‘Menelaus, do you understand? I must be Theo’s eyes and ears. But I need to relay my orders for you and Aurelia to carry out. Listen to the wind.’
‘Wait—’
But Freyr had already melted into the night.
‘Are you up for the challenge, dhampir?’ Aurelia asked. She nodded to the giant, six-legged steed as it approached, throwing strange shadows as it passed under the orbs of light Aurelia had fixed above the army. Warriors parted around it. ‘I think the beast befits a creature of your caliber.’
Menelaus swallowed.
The steed stopped in front of him and snorted. ‘He’ll do,’ Menelaus said, vaulting himself onto the horse’s back and gathering the reins in his hands.
Malik waved from atop his own beast before barking an order at the archers in front of him.
Hold your fire. Wait for the signal.
Menelaus started – the whisper in the wind.
He nodded to Aurelia and galloped down the line to Malik. ‘Let the archers save their arrows,’ Menelaus said, relaying Freyr’s orders. He cantered to the rift and peered down. What kind of world had Theo chosen for a battlefield? Earth but not Earth, a sun and moon that lit the surface of the planet, a ghost of the Midgardian version. What would the sapiens see through the thinning veil when they looked to the sky?
‘Menelaus! Where are you going?’ Malik’s voice died away as Menelaus left him behind, riding hard until he was parallel with the fight unfolding between Akhen and Theo, the former attempting his own bloody version of the moon-landing. Menelaus had no intention of being just an errand boy; he’d lost Surt’s sword to Akhen and he’d be damned again if he allowed the crazed pharaoh use it to murder his cousin.
51
That’s My Ride
Ava braced for impact.
The Craven, with Loki in her beak, was heading straight for the sky-tower. Ava could only pray that the atmosphere was breathable once the glass came showering down. She lifted the mattress off the princess bed, aided by Persephone’s strengthening magic, and hid behind it as the Craven crashed into Ava’s prison, shards pattering against her shield like heavy rain.
‘Drop me, you miserable vermin!’ Loki roared.
Ava peeked over the top as the Craven tossed the God of Chaos aside, taking out the opposite wall. Ava jumped to her feet as Loki toppled backwards and out of sight. Her rapid heartbeat skittered then slowed. He’s—
Calloused fingers appeared over the ledge, and the immortal being that her fiancé had condemned to Hel pulled himself back into the tower, fixing his green eyes on her. Loki’s foremost virtue is perseverance, Persephone noted.
He just had to pick that one, didn’t he?
The Craven screamed at him, whipping up the air to the extent that Loki almost lost balance again. Instead, he lost his temper, the chunks of missing flesh that the Craven had evidently torn out seething with his fury. ‘I’m going to roast you on a spit, you decrepit, stupid—’
‘You will do no such thing.’ Ava straightened her spine, tapping on her link to Nefertiti. ‘You shall kneel to your Queen.’
Loki laughed, although he lost his smile when the Craven stepped towards him. He held out a steadying hand. ‘You’re arrogant, aren’t you, little girl? I suppose you think opening your legs for the Gatekeeper entitles you to rule?’
Funny, Persephone said, he said something similar to me the night I wedded Hades.
When Ava opened her mouth, it wasn’t her voice, it wasn’t her laugh, but something twisted and cold. It was then she remembered the wig she wore, how she’d decorated her face to look every inch the Egyptian Queen with the paints Akhen had left his wife, lost in a trance of her own making. ‘You’re a little misinformed, aren’t you, little tyrant? I suppose you think stealing the crown from the slow-witted Hades is enough to make you king?’
He stared at her. ‘Kings destroy. In destruction, true power is found.’
Nefertiti shrugged, patting her belly. ‘Say only those incapable of creating life. Every destructive force requires union with a productive one. This “little girl” I am forced to inhabit has greater understanding than you.’
She turned her back. Loki stomped over to her.
‘Oh,’ Ava said, spinning back round and shooting vines – courtesy of Persephone – out of either palm and knocking Loki back to the tower edge, binding him head to foot and lowering him backwards within a heartbeat. ‘This is for Hades.’
‘Your precious pharaoh is going to die,’ he hissed, too surprised perhaps to realise the deception – whose magic held him fast.
‘Loki,’ Ava said in her own voice. ‘I’m counting on it. Thanks for my ride.’
Persephone released the vines from their palms and Loki tumbled into the endless clouds.
‘Now, that’s what I call flower power.’
She felt the Craven’s smooth beak rub against her cheek. She rubbed the glossy black feathers running down the side of the bird’s face. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, ‘for coming when I sang for you. You like singing, don’t you?’
The Craven nudged her away from the edge and lowered her head. Ava climbed on a
nd focused on the farthest clouds in the sky, letting the worries in her heart unravel with each lyric. She fuelled the Craven with harmonic truths as they sliced through the veil between realms.
52
Jewel in the Crown
Lorenzo put Ormdreper to good use, immediately cutting one of Akhen’s guards in half as they tangled with my small army. Did he realise his instrument of death was a piece of my soul? Would the voices of my ancestors speak into his mind and direct his movements like they had with me? Would they make him more violent?
Mind you, he’d been pretty content tearing off heads in the Battle of Hellingstead.
Gods, Hellingstead. I felt its absence like a piercing arrow. Mere hours ago I’d been amidst an extended fantasy, blissfully happy with Ava and my parents, with nothing but a glorious future to look forward to. And now I was thrusting myself into a meld of space and Asgard, trying not to let the Realms fuse together, the frozen heart of Istapp vibrating through my body and wrapping its arteries around my arm. I can’t let it go. Come to think of it, we’d been linked since I’d unveiled it within proximity to Surt’s flame-thrower. It wants to complete its mission.
Lorenzo had made an opening, so I flew straight at Akhen, Nikolaj and Ullr completing the arrowhead formation from behind.
Then the bastard corkscrewed in the air, driving down to Earth’s surface, where his army clashed against Father’s. The boundary must have been thickest there; soldiers charged about as if on solid ground, despite the oceans and continents and clouds beneath their feet. Where is a lightsaber when I need one?
As I twisted round to mimic Akhen’s descent, pockets of golden-caped warriors lit up as if they’d tripped the city lights beaming up from Earth.
I looked to my left, where the long chain of Elvish kinsmen hunkered down into rows, bows at the ready, along the gradual incline leading back to the Windy City. I imagined Asgard piercing the veil and smashing into Midgard. My stomach turned as the hoarse shouts of men and women ricocheted along the breach. ‘Fire!’
Wrath of Aten Page 26
