Battlestorm

by Susan Krinard

  And he had concealed it. From Loki, from Danny, from her, even from himself. His captivity had nearly shattered him, but it was her presence that had finished the job.

  There was nothing more she could ever do to punish him more than he had already punished himself.

  “Please,” he whispered. “If you cannot help Danny, at least remember to trust no one but yourself, and doubt any thought that craves power or urges you to belittle the mortals for whom you fight.”

  “I doubt everything,” she said, reaching toward him. “I need to know—”

  He jerked away violently, huddling in the corner like a prisoner seeing light for the first time in a decade. She retreated, her legs barely carrying her to the door. She stumbled on the threshold, and the elven guard caught at her arm.

  “Do you need assistance, Lady?” he asked. “Did the traitor do you harm?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m fine. Bring him fresh clothes, water, and decent food. After that, he isn’t to be disturbed.”

  Whatever the elf might feel about Dainn, he took his cue from the tone of Mist’s voice, bowed, and moved quickly to follow her instructions.

  Dazed by the horrors of the past week, Mist stepped out of the warehouse. The same men and women scurried about, the same troops marched, and the sun struck down out of the clouds.

  But everything had changed. Freya’s influence was gone, and Mist felt no satisfaction, no pride in what she had accomplished. She remembered what Taylor had told her about calling mortals who might not have been willing, what Rick had said about fights and conflict within the ranks. She remembered treating her own advisors and friends like servants. As Freya had done.

  She touched the pouch, hanging from a new cord around her neck. Bryn was still trapped. She hadn’t seen Gabi anywhere, Ryan was missing, and so was Konur. And Danny was Dainn’s son, who had to be saved.

  She faced a chaotic situation she had helped create, and she alone could make it right. She had to confess what she had done to her mother, and why. She had to learn who among the mortals shouldn’t be here, for any reason. She would have to rely even more on her commanders and administrators and advisors.

  Even then, there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t fail, and take every one of the allies down with her.

  The sunlight faded again, as if it knew she wanted nothing to do with its promise of victory over the darkness. A warm hand closed around hers, and she jerked her head toward the one to whom it belonged.

  “You’re scared,” Anna said, squeezing Mist’s hand. “You don’t need to be afraid.” The young woman smiled, and it was not Anna’s smile. “I know someone who can help you.”

  All at once Mist recognized what was different about Anna’s voice and the way she smiled. Both voice and smile were those of a child, secure and happy and oblivious to the chaos around her. The agitation, the furtive behavior, and inexplicable fear were gone.

  “Come,” Anna said, tugging on Mist’s hand.

  Mist allowed Anna to guide her past the occupied warehouses toward the one where Freya had died. Mist stopped when she saw where they were going, her heart turning over beneath her ribs.

  “It’s okay,” Anna said. “He isn’t mad. He understands.”

  “He?” Mist said blankly.

  “He’s waiting,” Anna said. She tugged again, and Mist shuffled after her like a zombie on Valium.

  Only when they reached the door and stepped into the roofless building did her tattoo begin to burn again, and she felt the force of the magic: not Freya’s or that of any elf, but a blast of pure masculine energy, the essence of primal dominance and virility. The broad-shouldered figure was limned in light, half-solid but very real.

  “Odin,” Mist said.

  The All-father smiled down on Mist, his single eye very bright, his broad, muscular body flickering in and out of focus.

  He’s not all here, Mist thought, though thinking at all required considerable effort. But this was no illusion, no manifestation.

  Odin had come to Midgard. Odin: Lord of the Aesir; Father of Men; Flaming-eye; Spear-shaker; Weather-maker. Odin, who had sacrificed his own eye for knowledge of the Runes he had passed on to the Aesir. Odin, whose magic was greater than that of any of the other gods, and who had never been defeated.

  “All-father,” she whispered. “How—”

  His laughter boomed, bouncing off the walls and surging toward the sky like a jet breaking the sound barrier.

  “You have seen me before,” he said. He smiled at Anna, who gazed up at him with love and awe. He opened his fist, and black feathers exploded from his hand to circle around his head.

  Orn.

  Mist rose slowly, beating down the anger she had no right to feel. “You were … hiding?” she asked in astonishment.

  “Hiding.” Odin turned his head and spat. The feathers fell like stones at his feet. “Anna.”

  The young woman approached him, bowed, and held up her hand. The raven pendant hung from a chain clasped between her fingers. Mist felt a second jolt of shock, as if she hadn’t seen the stone since she’d first given it to Rebekka seventy years ago.

  “Take it to Mist,” Odin said.

  Anna obeyed, offering the pendant to Mist. She took it and cradled the flat stone in her palm. Her tattoo seemed ready to sever her hand from her arm.

  “You were meant to hold this for me,” Odin said, his voice stern again. “Yet you gave it away.”

  “All-father, I—”

  “It is fortunate that the child Rebekka, and Anna, kept it safe for me until I led her here, for it was the pendant that tied me to this world and held the means by which I would regain my true form.”

  “You … were in Midgard since the Last Battle?”

  “Within the raven, yes. And in the parrot, which allowed me to conceal myself in the sight of mortals who might wonder at a child keeping a raven as a pet. For many years I forgot who and what I was, but I protected myself, and even now my enemies remain ignorant of my survival and my plan for the restoration of the Aesir.”

  Mist glanced toward the door. Odin laughed. “We are well warded. Only you and Anna can hear or see me, until I choose otherwise.”

  Sorting through her disordered thoughts, Mist struggled to find the right questions. “Why did you come to Midgard in the first place?” she asked. “How did you know what would happen after the Last Battle?”

  “I learned a second prophecy in Asgard, one that offered hope of escaping the doom of Ragnarok.”

  The second prophecy, Mist thought. When she and Freya had joined, the Lady had also thought of such a prophecy.

  “Did you not learn of it when you destroyed the bitch goddess?” Odin demanded.

  “You were…” she stammered. “You saw—”

  “I did not have to see what passed between you. Her destruction echoed throughout this world as Thor’s Hammer strikes down our enemies.”

  Mist locked her knees, hoping she wouldn’t fall. “You knew this was coming,” she said.

  “I knew the Last Battle would not destroy us. I did not know what would become of the Homeworlds until the moment we were flung into Ginnungagap, but the prophecy made clear that Midgard would be spared.”

  Yet he hadn’t told his Valkyrie why he sent them to Midgard with the Treasures, Mist thought, or why he believed they might one day be reclaimed.

  “When Freya called to the elf Dainn Faith-breaker from the great Void,” Odin said, speaking over her silence, “she woke me from my long sleep. I sensed where to find you, and I influenced Anna to move to this city. Even the bird’s dim intelligence understood that I must warn you of the Sow’s machinations.”

  “You mean her bargain with Loki to keep the Aesir from interfering until either she or Loki conquered Midgard?”

  “So you did learn something from Freya’s addled mind.”

  “But if you were already on Earth…”

  “Immediately after the Dispersal, I had a single line of communication open be
tween me and the new Shadow-Realms. It did not last, but before I began to lose my memory, I learned that Freya held the Aesir in a state not unlike death. I was able to create a simulacrum of myself, and the All-father she bespelled in our Shadow-Realm was but a puppet made to deceive her.”

  “But Orn … you came to me after Dainn lost contact with Freya and the Void,” Mist said. “And when she returned, you went into hiding again, without ever giving me a message.”

  Odin frowned. “I would not face her until I regained enough power to meet her on my terms.”

  And in the end, Mist thought, he hadn’t had to face Freya at all.

  “You knew Freya was my mother, didn’t you?” Mist asked.

  “Of course, though she concealed your kinship from everyone else. I chose you as my champion long before the Last Battle.” He chuckled at Mist’s expression. “I was aware that Freya attempted a spell at your conception that would give you the magic of all the races.”

  Mist released her breath. What did he mean by “all the races”? Did he realize that the “spell” had involved creating a child of two fathers?

  “In Asgard, Freya believed that her efforts had failed, and she abandoned you in childhood. I knew you had great potential, and so I turned you to my service as my Valkyrie. I sent you to Midgard knowing that you were loyal only to me, and if Freya survived to turn against me, you would stand against her.”

  Mist’s head began to pound in time to the throbbing of her tattoo. “You never told me what she would try to do to me here, in Midgard,” she said. “If she’d succeeded…”

  “She made those plans for you after the Dispersal. I knew nothing of them. It took time for me to regain enough intelligence to observe and understand the circumstances of your life here, and when I recognized the influence the traitor elf had over you, I knew that I could not yet reveal the Sow’s original scheme and her relationship to you.”

  The traitor elf, Mist thought, barely hearing the rest of Odin’s explanation. Odin himself had condemned Dainn in Asgard, and there would be no mercy in him now. Dainn was in terrible danger.

  But Odin spoke in the past tense. Could he be unaware that Dainn was within this camp?

  “What happened when Vali abducted you and Anna?” she asked, eager to distract him. “Why did you let him take you to Vidarr?”

  “Because there were things Orn needed to learn.” Odin bared his teeth. “He discovered how thoroughly Odin’s sons had betrayed him.”

  “I never recognized what Vali was capable of,” Mist said. “I—”

  “Vidarr had already betrayed me, when he sought the Treasures under the guise of a mortal soldier during your so-called World War.”

  Anna’s memories of Horja being interrogated by Nazis, Mist thought.

  “I had sent him and Vali to Midgard to await my coming,” Odin continued, “but even then I knew that Vidarr craved more power than I had ever granted him in Asgard. And Vali eventually became his willing lackey … until I gave him another chance to avoid his rightful punishment.”

  “Vali is working for you?”

  “Posing as one who hates me enough to become Loki’s loyal servant.”

  “Then you have a way of knowing what Loki’s doing.”

  “To the extent that Vali is taken into the Slanderer’s confidence.”

  “And Vidarr is still alive.”

  “He serves me, but he is … not quite himself.” Odin smiled unpleasantly. “He fulfills a purpose by observing and doing what I believe mortals call ‘odd jobs.’”

  And he had been in the garage, Mist thought, however briefly. Odin had to know about the party and its aftermath.

  “You knew about Sleipnir,” Mist said slowly.

  “Of course.”

  “But you did not intervene.”

  Odin’s heavy brows met above his eye and eye patch. “I was otherwise occupied, and I thought I could trust you with Sleipnir’s safety. But Loki deceived you, and you failed to protect what is mine.”

  Mist tried not to flinch. “He’s not in Loki’s hands yet, All-father. It’s only a matter of time—”

  “There is no time. I am still not fully within this realm, or I would have acted to end this farce myself. I must have my mount and the Gjallarhorn to be complete.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The true worth of the Treasures does not lie in their value as weapons to be used against Loki, or by him against me. Each one of them contained a part of my soul.”

  22

  Mist was grateful that she still had full control of her body, because shock was pushing her toward a very humiliating collapse.

  “Do not berate yourself too harshly for failing to see it,” Odin said. “It is evident that Loki has also remained ignorant as to the Treasures’ true worth.”

  Or he would have spared no effort in taking the ones she had found, Mist thought. “How do you … regain your soul?” she asked.

  “I must come into contact with each Treasure, as I have done with the ones you now hold.” He nodded benevolently toward Anna. “This my servant has done for me.”

  “But Loki has two of the—”

  “While you entertained him at your party, I entered Loki’s mansion and found where he had hidden them.”

  Mist almost laughed. Loki’s scheme had backfired in a way she had never anticipated.

  “You have his Treasures?” she asked.

  “Touching them was enough. I led him to believe that Freya had broken in to find them, but failed.”

  “Did you find Regin and Skuld?”

  “They were also at the mansion. They are mine again.” He flashed another grin, casting a spell as powerful as Freya’s glamour had ever been. “I already have Bragi’s Harp and Freyr’s Sword.”

  “Hrist and Olrun?” Mist asked, a little faintly.

  “Yes. And when I take Sleipnir from Loki, he will be all but finished.”

  Finished. Finally, Mist understood what the obvious truth her astonishment and awe had prevented her from seeing. What she’d hoped for all along, ever since Dainn had dumped the unwanted and unanticipated responsibility into her lap.

  She wasn’t alone now. She would no longer be in charge of a seemingly endless holding action, waiting with growing pessimism for Freya to act, for the Aesir to arrive.

  The All-father would take the burden from her.

  “Who else knows about the Treasures’ real purpose?” she asked.

  “None but you, this girl, and Vali. And no one else may know until I have come into my full power.”

  “I understand.” She hesitated. “What of the other Aesir? Have they awakened? Can you bring them here?”

  “The spell Freya cast against them is a powerful one, and I will need Sleipnir before I attempt it. Freya was never weak, though her spirit was corrupted long ago.” Odin’s one-eyed gaze grew distant. “I remember a time when she was very different.”

  A Lady of Light, Mist thought … a goddess of passion and fertility and life. But she had never known that Freya.

  “What changed her?” Mist asked.

  “The thirst to take what was not hers,” Odin said. His face hardened. “Now she has paid for her crimes.”

  I made her pay, Mist thought. She bowed her head. “All-father,” she said, “I have made many mistakes, and there is still so much I don’t understand—”

  “It is enough for you to know that your mistakes can be rectified. Your magic will help us to regain Sleipnir.” He extended his arm. “Show me your right hand.”

  She did. The tattoo around her wrist was black and red, as if live coals burned in the wolf-and-raven design.

  “When you obtained this tattoo in Asgard, it was no random impulse,” Odin said. “I made certain that circumstances led you to the decision, and that the spell I placed in it would respond to your use of magic.” He took her wrist and turned it up. “In this is recorded every instance of when you pushed beyond the simplest Rune-magic.”

  Mist fle
xed her fingers. “Recorded?”

  “Because of this mark, I know that your abilities can serve me.”

  He knew what she was capable of? Did he know about her ancient magic, and her use of the Eitr?

  “All-father—” she began.

  “You already know what it is to join souls and magic with another. Now you will give me complete access to your spirit, and this time Sleipnir will be found.”

  * * *

  It was all Mist could do not to shake her head, back away, refuse.

  Yes, she knew what it was to “join souls and magic with another.” She knew what it was to lose her way, lose herself, to almost become her mother.

  And Odin was more powerful still. He could obliterate her mind with a stray thought.

  “I see your fear,” Odin said, almost gently. “There is no need.” He laid his hand on her head. She barely felt the touch, but it filled her with joy in the way Freya’s embraces had never done.

  “It is only in obedience and recognizing your purpose that you will help me save Midgard,” he said. “You will be well rewarded. Soon we will have the true paradise promised us after the Last Battle.” He lifted her chin with his fist. “The retrieval may well be easier than we anticipated. Vali tells me that a child may have stolen Sleipnir away. Loki’s son.”

  Mist concealed her shock. She had been afraid that Freya would find a way to kill Danny, but she hadn’t even considered what Odin might know about the boy.

  It had always been said that the All-father could observe the Homeworlds and the doings of their inhabitants from his throne in Asgard, and that his ravens Huginn and Muninn brought him news of all nine worlds every evening. But if he hadn’t known about Danny in Asgard or Ginnungagap, Vali would have told him anything he needed to know by now.

  That meant he’d also know that Dainn was one of Danny’s parents. He might even have seen Danny when he had raided Loki’s mansion.

  “What do you know of this boy?” Odin asked, dropping his hand.

  “He ran away from Loki twice, and one of those times I spent a few hours with him,” Mist said, taking great care with her words in case Odin knew the circumstances of their journey to the steppes. “He is very much like an ordinary child.”