Baldwin clucked, and they all lost it again.
Things felt better now that he was with them. Laurie realized that the last night when they’d all been together, Baldwin had died. The night before that, they’d fought the mara, and the day before that involved a fight with three trolls who had kidnapped Ray and Reyna. Laurie didn’t want to point any of that out to the others, but as she thought about their prior attempts to sleep, she wasn’t feeling particularly relaxed. She kept her worries to herself as the boys talked about soggy zombies and flaming trolls and giant chickens. If a stranger heard them, they might think the boys were talking about some very strange video game.
Equally strange, perhaps, was looking at the ground and seeing that the backpacks they’d been given in Hel were once more in their possession. They’d simply reappeared. Cautiously, Laurie opened hers and pulled out her sleeping roll—which was far too big to fit into the very compact and lightweight bag. “Do you all have yours?”
They did, and so they spread out their new sleeping rolls in a circle of sorts. They needed to build a fire before they rested, or the damp night would feel far too cold for them to get any real sleep. There was a small stack of wood near a fire pit that had been dug into the ground. A line of soil surrounded it, and no leaves or dry grasses were too near where the fire would be.
While Matt, Laurie, and Fen gathered more fallen wood to burn, Baldwin started building a little pyramid of twigs. “Lighter?”
Fen tossed it to him.
Baldwin ignited his tiny pyramid in the pit. “Kindling.”
Fen snorted, but he brought a pile of smaller pieces of wood over to the fire pit. Baldwin nodded, but his full attention was on his task. He muttered as he sorted through the bits of wood to select the right pieces—although Laurie had no idea what the criteria were for the selection.
Once a steady blaze was going and backup wood was piled nearby—but not too near, at Baldwin’s insistence—they sat down to eat. The Valkyries had left them with some basic foods: a loaf of bread, a chunk of cheese, a bag of assorted apples and oranges, and some sort of dried jerky. Laurie wasn’t keen on dried meat, but the rest of the food seemed okay. It was certainly better than going hungry.
She thought about the banquet in Hel that they hadn’t eaten, and the meager food in their possession seemed even less appetizing. She decided to keep that thought to herself, along with thoughts of other dangers they’d faced in the dark of the night. There really wasn’t much she could think of to talk about… unless she brought up the next steps in their quest or worry over Owen. No one else was talking much anymore, either, and Laurie had the overwhelming sense that it was a matter of both physical and emotional exhaustion.
She wasn’t sure why Fen opened the flap of his bag, but after he did, he promptly let out a sound of surprise. “Umm, guys?”
They looked at him as he withdrew a can of soda. Frowning, he dug around inside the bag, and in short order, he’d pulled out a bag of chips, a toothbrush and toothpaste, a bottle of water, and bug spray. After he’d piled it all beside him, he said, “None of that was in there earlier.”
The other kids opened their bags. Various sandwiches, bottles of juices, and snacks had appeared in their bags. Also in Laurie’s was a brush, and Baldwin had wet wipes. Surprisingly, Baldwin seemed thrilled by them. He tore them open and was about to pull one out when he stopped.
“Are gifts from Helen safe?” he asked.
Levelly, Fen said, “She freed you and helped us get out. She didn’t need to do that. She was a little strange, but…” He shrugged. “We’re all wearing clothes from the bags.”
No one replied to that at first, and then Matt shrugged. “My amulet doesn’t react to the stuff she gave us.”
“And, you know, Helen isn’t evil, either,” Laurie pointed out. “She’s just an immortal who rules a land for the dead. It’s not a place of punishment or for evil people or anything. It’s just another world.”
No one commented on the oddity of “just another world,” but considering the things they’d seen and done lately, the existence of another world wasn’t that impossible. They were silent for a moment, and then Matt said, “She’s right.”
Everyone looked at him.
“The myths only say that she fights on her father’s side in Ragnarök, but”—Matt shot a friendly look at Fen—“Loki isn’t on that side now. His representative is one of us.”
“So maybe Hel’s on our side, too!” Baldwin took out the wipe and cleaned his hands. When he realized the others were watching him, he said, “Zombie-filled water that burned, slimy zombies in a fight, dirt and who knows what from the buffalo, and now ashes from building the fire. I don’t want to taste any of that, so I’m cleaning my hands first.”
As he spoke, they seemed to realize how many gross things they’d touched, too, and everyone quickly followed Baldwin’s lead.
Once their hands were clean of any possible buffalo droppings and zombie slime, they ate, consuming some of the things from their bags and from the Valkyries. They were still quiet, but it felt less weighty now that they had some food. Laurie suspected that sleep would help, too.
Not long after they ate, both Matt and Fen went to sleep. Baldwin was taking the first shift minding the fire, so he was still awake. The other two boys were snoring as soon as they closed their eyes.
Laurie was supposed to be sleeping, too. She tried—but failed. She knew they were all safe, for now at least, but she couldn’t sleep. She should. There was no telling when they would next be able to do so. She knew that, too. Knowing didn’t seem to erase the insomnia that she was having. Her mind kept replaying scenes from their travels—mara, zombies, trolls, buffalo—everything felt so treacherous. Everywhere they had been, there were threats waiting.
And all I can do is open doors so we can run.
She figured that her record was about half “open doors into trouble” and half “open doors away from trouble.” Maybe she could be more useful now that the immortal being who reigned over the land of the dead, who was apparently daughter of the god who was their ancestor, had given her a weapon.
Laurie was grateful to Helen, but possession of a bow wasn’t enough. The first problem, of course, was that Helen hadn’t included arrows; the second problem, though, was that Laurie hadn’t exactly been trained in archery. Her father was a wolf, like Fen and a lot of their family, so Stig Brekke had spent most of his only daughter’s life roaming the world. Sure, he’d visited, but he didn’t take her out hunting when he was in town. He hadn’t even told her he was wolf. She’d only learned that from Fen after the first time she saw the Raiders. The fact that most of her relatives turned into wolves was still strange. Worse yet, most of them weren’t good wolves. They worked for the other side.
“I’m going for a walk,” she whispered to Baldwin.
He looked panicked. “Are you sure that Fen and Matt would be okay with that?”
“There are Valkyries guarding us,” she pointed out.
After a moment, Baldwin nodded. There wasn’t really any good argument against that. The warrior women had said they were safe, so that was enough assurance for Laurie. Baldwin apparently agreed enough not to insist she check with the others.
Quietly, so as not to wake either of the sleeping boys—who might not be as reasonable as Baldwin—she pulled the bow out of her bag and crept toward the edge of their campsite. She didn’t have arrows, but she could at least practice drawing the string back and figure out how to hold the bow. Maybe she could try to see how one aimed a bow.
It looked simple enough: a curved bone and string meant to fire projectiles. She ran her hand over it, a little grossed out by the bone and trying very hard not to wonder about the string. Somehow, after seeing Helen’s dress and the pavilion of bone, Laurie didn’t think Helen would string it with anything common—or maybe this was common for her. She was in charge of the dead, so her sense of the ordinary was probably a little different from what a thirteen-year-ol
d living girl’s was.
Of course, Laurie also wasn’t sure she should have a bow. Maybe it wasn’t really meant for her. Maybe it’d be better to give the bow to Fen. She held it in her hand, feeling foolish. He was the champion, the warrior. She was a girl who opened doors. Even as she told herself she should give it away, an insistent thought intruded: It’s mine.
Her hand tightened on the curve of the bone, and she decided that—no matter how silly she felt—she was going to figure out how to use it. She was going to help keep the champions safe so they could fight in the final battle and save the world. Now she just needed arrows. Which are made of wood. She smiled to herself. Maybe she could make some sort of basic arrows.
As she looked for a tree branch to break off for a potential arrow, a flash of blue hair caught her attention.
“Owen!”
He walked toward her, looking a bit less confident than he had in Blackwell.
“I’m sorry that… you…” Her words faltered as she saw that one of his eyes was missing. The skin around it was still red. She gasped, and then she clamped a hand over her mouth. Owen is as he was meant to be. The words of the Valkyries came back to her, and she understood with sickening clarity what they’d meant: he was destined to lose an eye.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Some things are unavoidable.” Owen shrugged like it didn’t bother him, but she knew it did. She didn’t know him, not really, but most of the friends she grew up with were boys. A lot of boys acted like things were okay when they were really, really not. There was no way he wasn’t upset about losing an eye.
“This had to happen,” he added quietly.
“No!” She shook her head. “It’s not fair. Baldwin died, but he came back. If we were just acting out the myth, he’d still be dead.”
“Not everything can be changed. We aren’t trapped by the myths completely; we aren’t really the gods. We’re their stand-ins, so we have some of their gifts and some of their fates, but not all. Matt can call the storms; you and Fenrir have some of Loki’s skills. Baldwin is nearly impossible to kill.” Owen shook his head. “And yet he died, as in the myth. Loki’s descendants wept this time, and unlike the myth, Balder lives again.” He paused and smiled sadly at her before continuing, “But I am still the one-eyed god. This is a better path than Baldwin staying dead.”
They stood there silently for a few moments. She felt like there were so many things she had to say that she couldn’t figure out how to say any of them. She settled on, “We were coming back from Hel to rescue you, but when we got here, the Valkyries said you were free.”
“I escaped. It wasn’t time for any of you to face my captor.” He shook his head. “I wish you didn’t ever have to, but I can’t see any future where it’s avoidable.”
“Any future?”
“There isn’t one set future. When we make choices, there are different possible futures that result from them. As long as I’m not involved in the choices, I can see the possible outcomes.”
Laurie tried to remember what she knew of Odin from her mythology lessons. She wasn’t a bad student, but mythology wasn’t one of the things she’d loved. Of course, she’d never realized just how important myth would be in her life or she would’ve studied it a lot more. She tried to remember what she knew about Odin, but couldn’t remember anything other than the fact that he was supposed to be the wisest of the gods, the All-Father.
He held out a hand for her bow. “Can I try?”
She gave it to him.
As if they hadn’t just been discussing Baldwin’s death, Owen’s lost eye, and the end of the world, he calmly pulled the string back and demonstrated how to hold the bow. “You need to be steady. The arrows will fly true, but you need to trust yourself.”
She took the bow back from him and tried to imitate his posture.
Owen gestured to her feet. “Widen your stance.”
She stepped so she had her feet farther apart. “What else?”
“Think of your body like the letter t. You’ll want your bow arm straight and steady, directly out, and your string arm should be straight and in line with the bow arm.” Owen demonstrated with his body, as if he held an invisible bow. “Spine straight. Neck straight. Imagine arrows lining your spine and arms to make them straight and strong.”
She tried to do as he directed. As she did, she realized that he’d said something odd. “You said ‘captor.’ Do you mean the Raiders?”
“In part,” Owen murmured. “When you grasp the bow, keep your wrist straight and steady, not curling.”
“What do you mean, ‘in part’?” She continued to position herself as he suggested. The straightness of her form made everything feel more in control. “Was someone else with the Raiders? That Astrid girl? She said she was your girlfriend, and then she killed Baldwin.”
“She isn’t my girlfriend.” He put one of his hands on Laurie’s, and he showed her how to draw back the string. “Straight back, so your hand goes under your chin.”
As he demonstrated, she could swear that she felt not only the tension in the sinew-string, but a whisper of a feather and shaft as if an arrow were there. “Owen, who was with the R—”
“Focus, Laurie,” he interrupted. “Aim at the tree. Release the tension, and let the arrow fly.”
She dropped her question for the moment and concentrated on his instructions. She released the string as if there were an arrow. It was a surprisingly natural process. She couldn’t swear she’d be able to do it quickly any time soon, but once she had arrows, she could… try.
Thwack.
“Good,” Owen murmured.
As she stared at the spot she’d targeted, she saw a white arrow sticking out of the tree. Silently, she lowered the bow so it hung loosely in her hand, and she walked to the tree. Cautiously, she lifted one hand. Her fingertips slid down the arrow that was stuck in the tree. The arrow was real: she could touch it.
Owen had followed her. He moved almost as silently as her wolfy cousin. Unlike Fen, however, Owen was very patient. He simply stood waiting for her to speak.
“You knew there were arrows,” Laurie half accused.
“Without them, it was no use to you as a weapon.” Owen tugged the arrow from the tree. As soon as he had pulled it free, it vanished as if it hadn’t existed at all. He touched one fingertip to the cut in the bark. “The wound is as if by the strongest of arrows. The arrows, though, are only ghosts.”
“Ghost arrows?” she echoed.
He nodded. “An endless supply of lethal arrows that exists only when fired by your hands.” He caught her gaze. “Loki’s daughter has chosen her side in the coming fight. Helen stands with you. She answered that question when she gave you this. It won’t work for anyone else.”
At that, Laurie didn’t know what to say. She’d been given a warrior’s weapon, one that would only work for her, if Owen was right, but she hadn’t even been sure she could convince Fen and Matt to let her help in the final battle. Helen had given her the means to do so.
And now Owen was with the rest of the descendants, too.
“Thank you,” she told him. “I’ll keep practicing. Maybe I can do that while you talk to the others. You can at least tell them about your captors, and then we can figure out where to find Mjölnir.” She remembered what she’d been trying to think of earlier. “Ravens! Odin had ravens. That was how he knew things. Do you have ravens?”
“Always thinking, aren’t you?” Owen smiled at her. “I used to think that part of Odin’s story was weird. I’ve always just known things, but I didn’t have ravens.”
“Maybe we can help you find them,” she suggested. “There was a pair of giant black birds in Hel. They could’ve been ravens. I’m not quite sure the difference between ravens and crows.” She shuddered. “I didn’t look at them too closely anyhow. I’m not a bird lover.”
Owen nodded but didn’t speak.
Impulsively, Laurie threw her arms around Owen and hugged him. S
he whispered, “I’m so sorry about your eye.”
“It was meant to be,” he said, his words sounding sad enough that she knew he wasn’t as at peace with it as he was pretending to be.
“That doesn’t change anything!” She squeezed him tighter. “It had to have hurt. You must have been so scared.”
Owen held on to her, but he didn’t speak at first. After several moments had passed, he admitted, “I was afraid. I thought knowing would mean I wasn’t going to be scared when the time came. I was so… wrong.”
“We’re all scared.” Laurie squeezed him once more, and then she pulled away. “Baldwin died. The twins bailed. Matt is supposed to die fighting a giant snake, and Fen is to turn evil or something. We’ve been fighting monsters nonstop, and… I don’t think we’re going to win every fight. We can’t.”
“I wish I could tell you,” Owen murmured. “I wish I could tell you everything I see, but the Norns and the Valkyries and so many others would all stop me. All I can do is tell you that I will fight at your side when the time comes.”
“They’ll be relieved! We—”
“Not them, Laurie,” Owen interrupted. “I will fight at your side.” He paused and stared down at her. “I wish I could stay, but I shouldn’t be here.”
When she said nothing, he kissed her cheek, and then he turned and walked away. She had the urge to chase after him, to force him to tell her something more, but she knew that Owen would say only what he thought he should—and there was nothing else he was willing to say now.
I’ll be at the fight.
Owen will be at the fight.
A boy just kissed me.
She wasn’t going to share that third thing with Matt and Fen. She knew Owen was a good guy; he was part of their team. The problem was that Fen took his overprotective-brother role very seriously, and although he and Matt were her two closest friends, they were boys. They would either not care that Owen kissed her or they would threaten him for doing so. Neither response was one she liked; she’d keep that detail to herself.
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