Broken: Book 2 of the ShadowLight Saga

by Mande Matthews

  "Then you must be disappointed," he said, his tone low.

  Isla hugged him, fiercely, holding on to him as if she made up for all the time she'd left him with his father. Hallad stiffened under her grip; the tighter she held him, the longer she hung on, the more Hallad relaxed, until he finally wrapped his own arms around her.

  Astrid's mind spun as the realization spurred into her awareness. "If Mamma's here, then who gave me the words to sing?"

  Her mother's head jerked toward her. "You sang?" Horror spread over her face. "That noise...that was... oh, by the grace of the Mother!"

  Astrid didn't need an answer. She already knew. There was only one trickster in the lands that could manage such a farce.

  "What have I done?" asked Astrid.

  Then the land beneath them broke into a rumble.

  Chapter 44

  The stone floors beneath them heaved. The walls crumbled. Columns splintered. Screams resonated throughout the Palace and beyond, to the streets of Glitner.

  A crack appeared, echoing like a giant slap on the floor and a tree, a mighty oak, pushed upward, breaking stone, heaving the floor skyward.

  Then another tree broke through. And another.

  People scrambled, screamed and ducked for cover. Astrid swiveled; she held her sword out straight, but no attacker came forward. The sickening sound of earth breaking, howling, screeching, and crying all around her rebounded.

  "Take cover!" yelled Hallad.

  He dove for his sister, and mother, but Balin was faster. He already sheltered Isla beneath his bulk.

  Astrid wavered back and forth; the sickening sound of the earth's injuries popped her insides as if her own bones broke. Hallad's steady hands rested on each of her arms and for a breath, she took in the comfort of reconnecting with him.

  Columns quaked all around them. The flader vines, woven into the walls, disintegrated like bits of dust, puffing ash in the air as if they exploded. The walls groaned under the new weight and beyond the walls, beyond the Green of Glitner, Astrid sensed the land moan.

  The rumble spread, reverberating outward like a thunderous boom. The ground rippled, spiraling outward, farther and farther until Astrid thought her head would topple off her neck.

  Ravenna screamed, "By the Mother! What's happening?"

  The ceiling split; a jagged ravine opened to the sky. Darkness pressed down upon them as clouds barreled inward, bogging them in a pervasive blackness.

  Only the rune stones kept light—a flickering, wavering light.

  From nowhere, people appeared. Their bodies shimmered and took form. Their looks betrayed their confusion. Some screamed, some prayed to the gods—any god, Odin, Freyja, Thor. The redness in their complexion spoke of their heritage, Scandians, appearing in Alvenheim, transported from their homeland in some ungodly act.

  From Astrid's vantage in the Palace, she spied the balcony where Hallad recently gave his speech of protection and saw, beyond their own terror, the land rippling like an uncontrolled wave bearing in on the shoreline.

  "Daughter," said Isla, her voice alarmingly level, "The words you sang, what were they?"

  Astrid shook her head in confusion, swiveling to find her mother. Hallad's fingers pressed into her skin, and his strength filled her. Ward or no ward, he was still her brother.

  "You sang," said Isla, "what words?" she asked again.

  Astrid searched her memory, working the runes out on her tongue. "Verold-brotna."

  Tears renewed in the corner of Isla’s eyes, her stare flattening.

  "What is it?" asked Hallad.

  "By the Mother," said Isla. "Please, help us."

  "Help us what!" screamed Ravenna. The First tottered on the floor, the stone crumbling beneath her.

  "Catch her," commanded Astrid.

  Hallad left his sister, scooped up the First by her waist and scrambled back to Astrid.

  "Verold-brotna. That's what you sang?" asked Isla, their world crumbling around them. "Are you sure?"

  Astrid nodded, numbly. The force of the land erupting around her felt like her insides tore apart.

  Ravenna's face leeched of all color. The black raven against her cheek seemed like a dark and foreboding omen. "Then we are lost," her tone was weak.

  "What's that mean?" asked Hallad, holding on to both his sister and the First; Ravenna’s legs threatened collapse.

  "Your sister," said Isla, her voice rising as if praying to the Mother herself, "Asked the worlds to break."

  Ravenna shook. Her arms, her legs, her ribs trembled. Even Hallad's steady arms couldn't keep her sound. "The veils between the worlds have been broken. The lands, Alvenheim, Scandia, Muspell... they're merging into one."

  "And the Shadow is free," said Astrid. Even to her own ears, her tone flattened like death.

  "Oh!" screeched a Norn, "It is too late! We are doomed!"

  Walls tumbled down like an unnatural avalanche. Rocks boomed. Dust flew; the entire side of the Palace opened to the land below.

  Hallad, with Astrid and Ravenna in each arm, scooted to the edge of the balcony. From vestr to austr, the surface of the land boiled all around them like hot liquid. Citizens screamed, running for cover, but no cover would be found. Glitner fell, like a murdered giant.

  In every street, in every spot, Scandians appeared as the lands merged, but not just any Scandians. Between citizens and innocents, Upsalla's army materialized out of thin air—their weapons held at the ready, their blue-painted faces screaming their war-cries.

  Even drengmaers popped through the chaos: dead women, bound women, and more. The rot of corpses gagged the air.

  Suddenly, a kick came from behind, tottering Hallad off balance. He spun, Astrid with him. Rolf, still bound and gagged, gestured with his head, his amber eyes wild. He tipped his chin toward the chaos and lifted his tied hands before Hallad's nose.

  Astrid cut him loose.

  "Thank Valhalla someone’s still got some sense!" Then Rolf sprung over the balcony, rolling into a ball as he hit ground; he bolted toward the fray.

  Hallad signaled the Guardians to untie the rest of the songvaris.

  Seretta wavered. "Rolf!" she yelled, staring after the boy as he raced through the chaos below. "Rolf! Come back!"

  Rolf turned, his impish grin lighting his uncertain face, "I have to get to Ginna!" He jerked his chin toward a young honey blonde girl with a baby in her arms.

  Rolf gestured wildly at the girl. "I know her!" he yelled back. "I have to save her!"

  "Who's Ginna?" Seretta yelled at him.

  "My figurine! My bright-eyed, jest loving, lay adoring girl!" Then Rolf focused on his target.

  Seretta huffed, then the woman sunk to her knees as she watched the ember-haired boy dodge swords as he rushed toward the girl.

  Above, the clouds churned, like thickening soup, and then two figures materialized below them: the Shadow and a ward dressed in grayish brown.

  The man smiled, turned and raised his arm in the air. Upsalla's army cheered while they ran and pounded their chests at his appearance.

  "Call my sword," said Hallad. He searched his sister's eyes, and she obeyed.

  Hallad's sword materialized in his grip. He raised the blade above his head.

  The sky darkened yet another degree, smothering them with darkness.

  Hallad screamed, "We fight!"

  Chapter 45

  "Hang on!" screamed Emma.

  The ground erupted beneath her feet. She grabbed for Erik, but his arms were already wrapped around her, holding her securely.

  Ginnungagap roared between them and the rest of the Merciful. She had brought them this far, and now the land broke beneath her.

  Pebbles bounced over the earth's surface. Rocks jumped. Emma chanced a peek over the edge of the cliff. Below, down deep within the river that ran the length of the Gap, the water boiled, as if lit on fire from beneath.

  "By the Goddess, or the Mother, Erik, we've got to get these people out of here, now!"

  I
n the depth of the crevice, peaks broke through the water's surface, spiraling upwards as if spears of fury, towards the sky. An entire mountain ridge rumbled up, spewing forth from the Gap.

  Emma gripped Erik, seeking his eyes, pleading, begging with everything she had. The dyrr in her hand morphed rapidly. Runes appeared and disappeared, but she had no idea how to speak them.

  "I can't read them, Erik."

  Emma’s blood thundered under her skin, like the quakes breaking the earth.

  Someone screamed.

  Alfridr.

  Emma turned, catching sight of the songvari as she fell. The woman flailed; her arms reached outward, hands grabbing air. Erik lunged. So did Emma, but their help came too late. They watched, as the woman, mouth open, song screeching, spiraled down, down, down until she disappeared into the rocky ledge that met her.

  A sob escaped Emma; she bit her lip as her eyes swept over the others—she couldn’t afford to break now, if not for her, if not for Erik, for them.

  "Now, Erik, now. We have to leave here, but I don't know how."

  "There's always a price for the Shadow's help, Emma. Always." His green eyes seemed soft, pleading, and desperate in her view.

  "I don't care! What other choices are there? Whatever it is, we'll pay!"

  The suppleness in his eyes faded as he looked at her. "I know the runes to speak." His voice sounded void of emotion.

  "How?" She shook her head, "Nei, don't tell me." Then she grabbed his hand and strode to Mundi and the other Conspirators, wobbling to keep her balance over the rumbling land. "We need to get to the other side, to the rest of them, first."

  Erik nodded. He rounded his lips and sucked in a breath. She reached out and grabbed everyone in a hug, and Erik shadowwalked.

  The sensation knocked her off kilter, like someone dunked her head underwater, and she grappled to suck air into her lungs. Her stomach lurched. As she struggled to keep the bile in her throat from spewing, they emerged on the other side. The Merciful floundered around them. Some grabbed on to one another. Some screamed. Some whimpered or cried, as the earth continued its upheaval beneath them. The wolves, under Svol's direction, padded to her side, their hackles raised and ready.

  "Say them," said Emma. She reached her hand out, displaying the dyrr. Runes morphed over the face of the medallion.

  "Are you sure?" asked Erik.

  "I'm positive," she replied.

  Erik layered his hand underneath hers. His warmth flooded her, chasing the chill from her bones.

  "Erik." She stopped him. "I want you to know this." She held his gaze with her own. "You're the strongest man I've ever known. You're more faithful than daybreak. I don't care if the Shadow speaks to you. I know, nei matter what, you'd never give over to him. Never. I have faith in you."

  The whites of his eyes pricked with redness at her speech, but she continued, "You've always been my hero, Erik Sigtriggson. When I ran off to Grimnear to save the wolves, it wasn't because I didn't need you. It was because I needed to prove to myself that I wasn't afraid anymore."

  Erik's chest heaved, and he looked down. She reached up with her free hand, still gripping the dyrr in the other, and guided his chin to her gaze.

  "Whatever happens, Erik," she said. "We do this together."

  Then his hand wrapped over hers, he said the runes aloud, and a crack ripped through the air before them.

  ***

  Emma yelled, "Run!" and the rest of their entourage, including the wolves, shuffled through the rip created by the dyrr without further instruction. She huffed, gave Erik one last look of encouragement, closed her eyes and stepped through the rift in the sky.

  Once she made it all the way through, and opened her eyes, devastation flooded her vision. They had materialized in the streets of Glitner.

  An ominous blackness pressed down from the clouds above. Lightning illuminated the distance; the sizzle of electricity filled the air. Thunder roared, and beneath it all, the Palace of Glitner was no more.

  Rubble mounded where beautiful buildings had once stood. Only remnants of the towers rose above them. People scurried, running from armored warriors, Scandians wielding knives or axes, Alvens using only their tongues to defend themselves. Though the citizens of Glitner sang for their protection, their disjointed attacks made easy marks. Warriors slashed them down as they sped, children or women in tow, through the streets.

  "The Shadow's price for his gift." Erik whispered in Emma's ear like a draugr haunting the land.

  All around them, trees sprung from the ground, thrusting civilians into the air as a forest appeared from nowhere. Dampness soaked the air as if a rainstorm threatened, heightening the sharp smell of blood.

  "We face this together, Erik Sigtriggson." Emma’s breath hit the air with a huff, creating a circle of mist as she spoke. She shivered. The temperature had dropped drastically. She pulled Erik in tight to her to feel his warmth against her, her mind racing for answers—without the Palace for protection, what would they do?

  Then Weyland appeared, the smile-frown pasting his face.

  "Join us."

  Erik laughed, an unsettling bellow that soured in his gut.

  "You!" yelled Weyland, addressing the rest of the Conspirators. "You are the Master's army! Join our triumph! Redeem your dignity! Hide who you are nei more!"

  Weyland’s skin rippled.

  Emma blinked as the man’s skin continued an upwards roll over his head.

  "We will win this battle! You will all be freed!"

  As Weyland screamed, his teeth stretched downward into sharp points. His jaw cranked backwards, opening at an unnatural angle. He howled.

  The white wolf laid her head back and hollered along with Weyland, as the man's body twisted and broke into a new form. Weyland continued howling, along with Hlif, and his body sprouted hair. His shoulders bent, mounding into haunches. His arms pounded the ground, turning to paws and long, razor-sharp claws.

  "By the gods," said Erik. "What is he?"

  "The Shadow’s creature," replied Emma.

  All the wolves started to bay, joining Weyland’s triumphant chorus.

  "Nei!" screamed Emma. "Don’t give over to him! We can seek safety with my brother!"

  But Weyland’s body continued to twist and turn until, finally, his movements stopped; a monstrous wolf stood before them. His jaw opened. Saliva dripped.

  "Come," Weyland said, his words magnified by his enlarged form. "Come and fight for your true Master."

  All the wolves yipped. They slunk toward the beast, leaving Emma’s side.

  Chapter 46

  Mundi flipped back his wolf-hide mantle, thrusting his fist in the air. "Our true Master has come to save us! We join you!"

  Another slap of thunder exploded, moving in closer, as if to accentuate Mundi’s proclamation.

  Others raised their weapons at Mundi's cry, the ruckus colliding with the sounds of slaughter ringing in Emma's ears: the gurgling of life-blood as citizens fell from the slice of an ax or sword, the roar of crumbling stone, the screams of women and children searching for safety that could not be found.

  Emma shook. The icy dampness of the air swamped her skin. Erik edged in behind her, cupping his own body to hers—a small warmth in the vastness of her chill.

  "Do not do this!" she pleaded. "I promised you safety and comfort, and I will find it for you!"

  "Your promises proved too short, little lass." Mundi raised his ax toward Emma. "And if you're not with us, you're against us."

  The crowd rallying behind Mundi leered and cheered.

  "I didn't bring you here to fight. We can have a peaceful and beneficial solution for all." Though I have nei idea how. This cannot be the answer.

  A growl vibrated in Weyland's throat. Wolves crept closer to the beast, wagging their tails. Svol swung his black head around, blinking back at Emma, his yellow eyes a glimmering brightness against the darkening sky. Arvak turned too, a whimper rumbled from the gray. Then Hlif padded up behind the two and
growled.

  "Give over, Em." Erik's tone came fast and hard in her ear. "They aren't going to listen."

  But Emma bent to her knees, closing her eyes. "I won't give up on them, Erik. I can't."

  Whitefoot hunkered down on her shoulder; his tail bristled like an unruly broom. Emma braced herself with her palms against the trembling ground. The tipping of the earth threatened to tumble her over, but she clenched her muscles tight in her position and reached for the wolves.

  Svol! Arvak! Please! Don't do this! The Shadow is a dark and dangerous lord. He'll use you and trick you. He means you harm, not solace.

  We have nei choice, said Svol.

  Please, we'll find a way together, Svol. Arvak, reason with him. Surely, you know going with the dark lord is not right?

  The two wolves hesitated. Hlif let out a clipped bark at their heels, causing Svol to step another foot toward Weyland. Though the gray wolf stilled, his head hung low as if his muscles begged to follow Svol's lead, but he held himself back for a breath of time.

  It's not a matter of right or wrong, human, said Arvak. It's a matter of survival.

  Come, Arvak, you don't believe that do you?

  Svol does. So does Hlif and the others. And I'm bound to follow where Svol leads.

  Nei, said Emma. It's a matter of choice for you all. Tell them. Reason with them, Arvak. Choose loyalty to those who have shown you friendship and care. To those you know won’t turn their backs to you when it suits them.

  The gray's eyes closed for a blink. He huffed short, shallow breaths. After a moment, both Svol and Arvak turned toward Emma, but the white wolf blocked them, growling low and deep. She crouched before the two, and though not as large as Svol and certainly no match for two wolves, she stood her ground, canines bared. Then Weyland pressed in behind them, his massive beast-like body towering over the two wolves; Hlif’s growl grew to a roar.

  Svol slunk by Hlif's head, Arvak at his side, but Hlif pounced, grabbing Svol by the scruff of his neck. Yips and growls rumbled from the white wolf's throat, but the black twisted from her grip, latched onto her ear and pushed her to the ground with his paws.