Bridge Burned: A Norse Myths & Legends Fantasy Romance (Bridge of the Gods Book 1)

by Elliana Thered

  Magic is not as strong on worlds not its own. I knew it myself, from my own experience. Heimdal had admitted that his was the same. He’d said Loki’s worked less well here on Asgard, too.

  The snakes Odin had summoned were magic. So was the poison intended to kill Loki.

  I opened my eyes.

  Loki slumped within his shackles. The snakes were gone, but puncture marks riddled his flesh, reddened and already bruising. Darker, larger bruises marred Loki’s forearms.

  No. Not bruises. Along each of Loki’s arms, a tattoo-like shape of a snake writhed.

  Loki lifted his head. All expression had drained from his face. His eyes were unnaturally wide. They blinked, unfocused, searching.

  Until they fixed on me. Loki’s face was that of a child’s, one who’s been punished past the point of comprehension. One who felt lost and had never felt any other way. One who had trusted me to understand that feeling. To help him feel less alone.

  One who murdered one of his adopted kinsman—and used me to do it. One who made it perfectly clear that he did not want to be saved.

  But I desperately wanted to save Loki. And there was no chance of saving someone who was no longer alive to save.

  Midgard, I decided. According to Loki, Jotunheim no longer wanted him. And Asgard’s magic was at its least potent in Midgard. If the poison in Loki’s veins could be weakened enough to no longer cause his death, that world would be the most likely place for it to happen. Maybe someone on that world would even be able to counteract the poison entirely.

  “It’s a nice world, isn’t it? Room to breathe.” Loki had seemed so content that day.

  Because his plot to bring back mistletoe to Asgard had been a success?

  Baldur’s fingers, viciously pinching Loki.

  “Nothing that it would do me any good to repeat.”

  I stood up straighter. Maybe Heimdal took my action as a sign that I understood Loki’s sentence and had accepted it. He released my hand.

  All of the Aesir knew, most likely, that I did not require a bridge stone to open my ways and send someone along them. Physical contact, yes, but only for the briefest moment. Only tradition demanded the bridge stone, but they’d become so accustomed to that setting for my magic that they might not think of me using it anywhere else.

  They wouldn’t be thinking at all about what I could or couldn’t do, not right now. Their attention was on Loki, and none of them were weeping. They were busy taking satisfaction in his agony.

  No one was looking at me. No one but Loki, and I wasn’t sure he was actually seeing me.

  I took a deep breath and began to call down the light—quietly, carefully, without fuss. As I did, I edged away from Heimdal. Closer to the horrible scene at the center of the sentencing ground.

  Colors gathered around me, darkening at the edges.

  Loki’s gaze focused. His eyes widened.

  If he’d noticed, so would everyone else. I dashed forward, away from Heimdal and past Odin.

  Shouts went up behind me. I threw myself at Loki, clasping my fingers around his bloodied forearms as I fell into him.

  The snake tattoos writhed against my touch. I gasped and nearly drew back. My magic faltered.

  “Iris!”

  Heimdal’s voice. He would come for me, any second now.

  Leaning forward again, I gritted my teeth and pressed my hand against Loki’s arm. Colors swirled anew, flashing rainbows against the grim sky.

  I pictured the first bridge stone I could think of on Midgard. Sturdy gray stone. Ancient crystal dulled beneath centuries of grime. It stood inside a city, where someone might find him.

  My bridge’s void opened before us. It drew Loki forward, and I slipped after him.

  “No!” An icy chill buffeted past me. Sapphire light lanced through the darkness.

  Loki jerked free from my grasp. Gasping, I reached for him. But the cold.

  So cold!

  I couldn’t move. I tumbled backward, out of the bridge I’d opened. Asgard’s frozen ground slammed into my back.

  Icy runes of deepest blue shimmered around me.

  “What did you do?” My words barely came out, more a gasp than a sentence.

  Heimdal’s barrier lasted only a second longer. I felt it fade, and the brittle cold that had knocked me back gave way to returning warmth. I rolled onto my side and levered an elbow beneath me.

  Before I could do more than that, Heimdal was over me, reaching for me with both hands. His eyes were wide and his face unnaturally pale. He was asking if I was all right, I thought, but his voice came from so far away. The world tipped and tilted around me.

  On the other side of Heimdal, Loki’s chains, now empty, clattered to the ground.

  22

  * * *

  As Heimdal half-helped, half-lifted me to my feet, the dizziness that had swept over me faded. His hands remained on my arms, but by then a warming indignation swelled through me.

  He used his magic. Against me.

  I pulled free of Heimdal and shot a warning frown up at him. His jaw clenched, but he kept his hands to himself. He stayed close, though, close enough to grab me again at a moment’s notice.

  By then, Odin had reached me. My eyes barely reached the level of his neck, where cords stood out as he glared down at me. He loomed over me, steel gray hair and furious eyes.

  “Where did you send him?” Odin spoke with a deadly calm.

  My heart thudded. But at the same time, I heard my father’s voice in my head.

  “Odin may make whatever requests he likes, and we will certainly consider them. But they will not dictate our actions.”

  I hesitated. Under ordinary circumstances, Loki was clever enough to take advantage of a head start. These didn’t seem like ordinary circumstances.

  The cords of Odin’s neck bulged. “Which bridge stone? Tell me where you sent him!”

  Behind Odin, Thor, more apoplectic than ever, regarded me with barely-restrained fury. Beside Thor, Frigg stared coldly. Lines of grief turned her face far older than her true age.

  I just helped the man who killed her son to escape.

  A son who may have spent years abusing Loki. Still, I felt vaguely guilty for adding to Frigg’s pain.

  Odin took a step toward me, one hand raised.

  Before I could even begin to flinch back, Heimdal stepped into Odin’s path, blocking him from me.

  “This is not the way, Allfather.”

  “She has made it the way. Step aside, Watcher.”

  “You tasked me with her guardianship. She is the last of the Alfar.” Nothing resembling affection or real concern colored Heimdal’s voice. He spoke with all his usual business-like lack of emotion. “She is under my protection.”

  Odin hesitated. Outright rage receded from his face, tempered by something more calculating.

  “She is fast overstaying her welcome,” Odin finally said.

  “You don’t mean that.” Heimdal’s posture relented—slightly. His words continued to come in a carefully-modulated tone that walked a line between insistence and respect.

  “Yet.” Odin glared over Heimdal’s shoulder at me. “Bivrost. Take us where you sent Loki. Now.”

  Despite the pounding of my pulse, irritation again spiked, this time at Odin’s continuing refusal to acknowledge any name but the one he’d given me. Again, I thought of my father’s words.

  I do not belong to him.

  “Iris. Please do as he says.” Heimdal turned his head only far enough to speak quietly to me. No softness touched his voice, but he at least addressed me by my true name.

  Heimdal and Loki. The only two in Asgard who’d ever done so.

  I glanced past Heimdal at Odin, and past Odin at Thor. They’d go after Loki, of course, just as soon as I delivered them to the bridge stone I’d used as Loki’s receiving point.

  I could, of course, lie.

  Trembling, although I still couldn’t tell whether from emotion or from whatever Heimdal had done to me,
I stood straighter. I was Alfar. I would fulfill my duties—as if the Aesir intended to give me any other choice. But I would do it with dignity. And on my terms.

  I extended my arm, palm up. Odin laid his atop mine with such force that it stung. I managed to avoid flinching.

  “Thor. Heimdal. You will accompany me.” Odin spoke without looking away from me.

  Immediately—eagerly—Thor stepped up and laid one massive hand on Odin’s shoulder. Heimdal’s hand settled onto my shoulder, his fingers pressing firmly into my flesh.

  I opened a way. Asgard’s sentencing ground faded amidst a whirl of colors and a flare of light. The bridge’s darkness swallowed all four of us.

  Moments later, a vast plain opened around us, flat with tall but sparse grasses. Cracked earth puffed dust into the air as our feet touched it. Red sky to the west indicated sunset, and the air held immense heat touched by the cool of impending night. The bridge stone in this part of Midgard was basalt, carved with geometries nearly like runes but less sharply-angled.

  It was not the bridge to which I’d sent Loki.

  As soon as we were through, I broke contact with Odin and stepped away from Heimdal’s lingering grasp. Crossing my arms, I waited for them to go, so that I could—

  I could what? My earlier dizziness returned, abruptly. I had no plan whatsoever for what to do next.

  “Heimdal.” Odin ignored me, instead scanning the horizons. “Tell us which way he’s gone.”

  Heimdal didn’t answer. I glanced his way and found him staring at me. His face revealed nothing of what he was thinking, but renewed anxiety tickled in my stomach as I realized my mistake.

  Heimdal’s senses—he’d know Loki was nowhere near here. He knew already that I was misleading them.

  Misleading him. That wrenched my heart, but no more than the hard look he directed at me. Or the memory of cold light knocking me to the ground.

  Against me. He used his magic against me.

  Suddenly, I was scared. The Heimdal I’d thought I’d known, the one with sunshine in his voice and a hint of a smile—that was not the man who stood before me now.

  The god who stands before me. He is Aesir, not a man at all.

  And his duty was to Asgard.

  I thought about fleeing. If I were fast enough, I could draw down the light and be gone before they could stop me. Being in Midgard would make that more difficult—my magic was slower to respond than on Alfheim or even Asgard. Midgard had the least magic of all the worlds.

  But if I could manage it—

  As if reading my thoughts, Heimdal reached out and clasped his fingers around my wrist. His grip didn’t hurt, but it was as strong as any shackle. And it ensured that wherever I went, he would go with me.

  “Heimdal?” Odin had stopped scanning the area and turned toward us again. Beside him, Thor did the same.

  “No more misdirection.” Heimdal’s gaze locked onto mine. “Take us to where you really sent him.”

  Odin uttered a curse like a snarl and closed the space between him and me. He didn’t wait for me to offer him my hand, this time. He slapped his hand onto my shoulder—and his grip did hurt. Thor crowded up behind him.

  “Iris.” Heimdal’s voice sharpened to a dagger’s point. He stared into my eyes as if he could mentally force me. “He is a murderer. Whatever Loki convinced you of before, how can you believe any of his claims now?”

  I felt like crying all over again. Under Heimdal’s fierce gaze as much as the pain of Odin’s fingers on my shoulder, my resolve broke. At least, perhaps, I’d bought Loki enough time to get away.

  For the third time in less than an hour, I called on the light.

  Sturdy gray stone as broad as it was tall sat half-sunken and overgrown in a clearing so small that branches from the surrounding trees reached across the space and brushed leaves against each other. The breeze that stirred those leaves was cool, but it held the promise of coming warmth. Morning light filtered through the shade cast over the stone.

  Except for the four of us and the bridge stone, the clearing was empty.

  Odin let go of me immediately and turned his attention to peering into the trees. Thor crashed through the short spring grass and plowed toward the trees, searching between them.

  Heimdal kept my wrist enclosed very firmly in his hand.

  “Heimdal?” Odin’s bark was more command than question.

  “Yes.” Heimdal half-closed his eyes and tipped his head. His nostrils flared. He raised his free arm to indicate the side of the clearing opposite the rising sun. “Try that direction first.”

  Thor stomped back to the center of the clearing and started the other way. Scowling, Odin headed after him.

  “There’s a city.” Heimdal opened his eyes. “You’ll want to be careful.”

  Thor only grunted and kept going. Odin stopped and turned back. He narrowed his eyes at Heimdal.

  “You’re coming with us.” Odin ignored my presence entirely. “We need your senses to track Loki.”

  “You need me watching Bivrost.” Heimdal chose my Asgardian name over my given one, no hesitation in his voice. “To ensure that she returns to Asgard and stays there until you call for her. Loki is here. You’ll find him.”

  With Heimdal’s words—and the cold way he spoke them—I realized that Loki had been right about one thing.

  Heimdal would always put the Aesir first. One of his duties might be to protect me, but he was not on my side. I was merely another piece of Odin’s property to be guarded and controlled.

  For a moment, that odd, calculating expression crossed Odin’s face. He glanced sharply in my direction. Then he scowled and jabbed a finger at me. “You are not to leave Heimdal’s sight. If someone needs you, we will send for you. Go. Now.”

  My face warmed.

  Odin may make whatever requests he likes.

  Heimdal’s grip on my wrist tightened briefly, still not hurting me but most certainly warning me.

  Warning me to listen. Warning me to obey. Warning me that I alone acted in defiance of Odin, and if I tried anything else, Heimdal himself would stop me. Ice crept down my spine, not unlike that I’d felt when Heimdal used his magic.

  Against me.

  The ice didn’t linger, this time. Betrayed anger flushed me clean of it.

  Odin followed Thor out of the clearing. I didn’t wait for Heimdal’s permission. With his hand still clasped around my wrist, I opened a bridge to Asgard.

  23

  * * *

  Present day

  Whatever was going on with Claire, I was suddenly uncertain about how much it had to do with drugs.

  Claire whimpered and slapped at me. I realized how hard I was gripping her arm.

  “Sorry.” I made an effort to ease my death grip on Claire’s arm. She lowered herself the last couple of feet to the ground and leaned against the scorched alabaster of the bridge stone. In the dewy morning light, her dark makeup seemed even more stark against her wan complexion. She leaned her head beside the stone’s char-encrusted communication crystal and closed her eyes.

  I crouched beside Claire and concentrated on the stink of wrongness that clung to her, trying to divine more from it than just a general sense of darkness.

  But darkness really did cover it best. A bitterness like an old coffee pot covered a deeper stench like sweat at the bottom of a laundry hamper and the ancient remains of a rodent stuck inside a wall.

  Wrong. Dark. Some sort of mortal magic? Claire and her alleged boyfriend were both into the occult. Maybe they’d stumbled across something more potent than at least Claire had realized. I wondered if this guy—Joel—knew what he was doing, or if he was under some foul influence himself.

  Claire mumbled. Then she whined, like a dog in pain.

  “Joel.” She whispered his name so faintly, I wondered if Claire even realized she’d spoken.

  She was still asking for the loser. It was like she had physical withdrawals from this guy, needing to go back to him in a way tha
t was beyond a natural attraction.

  “Claire?” Gods. This was so not right. This was like something that—

  I leaned back from Claire. Without waiting to see if she answered me, I stood bolt upright. My heart stuttered into my throat.

  A dark stink. Like chaos. Like poison.

  A split second of dizziness caught me unaware. An odd scent I could classify only as dark tainted the crisp air.

  This was like something that Loki would do.

  Even though I’d already done it, I turned in place, peering into the burned trees and listening with all my strength.

  I’d wondered about Loki during the past six years. I’d sent him to Midgard, after all, in hopes that the poison meant to kill him would allow him to live. Would provide him the opportunity to live with the consequences of his actions. That maybe, away from the gods who constantly inspired him to make bad choices, he’d learn to make better ones. I’d spent my first months in Midgard watching for him. I still wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed that I’d never found him.

  Maybe he didn’t know I was here, too. Maybe he thought leaving me alone was the better part of friendship.

  Or maybe, I thought now… Maybe I simply no longer had anything he needed, so he’d sought out fairer game.

  A warning tingled in the back of my mind.

  How did I get my magic back?

  The prophecy that had finally convinced Odin to drive me out of Asgard altogether stated that Loki would use me to get back at the Aesir. Was Loki toying with Claire and her boyfriend?

  Or had Loki been lurking around and watching me?

  Despite being home in Alfheim again, a headache threatened, this one confusion-induced as much as anything.

  I have my magic. Heimdal will want to take it back. Loki will want to use it. Nothing confusing about that.

  The only solution was to stay away from both of them until I figured out what to do next.

  Claire whined again, a sound that set all the hairs on the back of my neck to standing on end.

  “He has powers of his own, Loki does. He spreads his chaotic influence like a poison into the minds of those who are susceptible.”