The bodies of the giants were still there. EMTs, cops, and a CSI unit were busy examining the corpses. Pretty soon the authorities would know that they weren’t dealing with Homo sapiens. And the panic would spread.
Wrapping herself in a cloak of invisibility, Mist ran east until she was well away from the chaos. She found a sheltered alley and leaned against the dirty yellow wall. Her whole body was shaking.
Dainn’s Rune message had said that “her” mortals were safe. But what in Hel did that mean? Odin had cleared out fast, but had he somehow transported everyone back to camp? And what then?
She had to go back and see for herself. She had to get every mortal out of there, and the Alfar as well, if Konur hadn’t already—
Idiot, she thought. You go back there, Odin catches you, and punishes you by killing as many mortals as he can get his hands on. That is, until he kills you and makes it impossible for you to help anyone ever again.
They’d be safer keeping their heads down, “worshipping” Odin and obeying him until they could find some way to escape. Captain Taylor was no fool; unless he’d been killed, he’d act accordingly to keep Odin pacified. At this point, Mist felt confident that Rota would share her judgment of Odin and stay away from him. She would be a solid ally. Rick and Vixen would do everything they could, and Konur would help them, regardless of the Alfar’s current circumstances.
Unless Mist wanted to make things worse for them, she’d have to do as the Runes instructed. That, or draw on the Eitr so deeply that she’d forget whom she was supposed to be fighting. And even who she was.
She knew in the very core of her being that if she ever reached the furthest frontiers of her magic, she might never return.
Searching for a bike she could “borrow” to get to Golden Gate Park, she felt the sound before her ears registered it: an earth-shattering blast that rattled windows, set off every car alarm on the block, and sent her crashing to her knees. For a few moments she was too deaf even to think, and then she realized what she had just heard.
The Gjallarhorn. The herald of Ragnarok, the Last Battle, the end of the world. Someone had found it. And someone had decided that it was time for that final battle to begin.
31
It would end where it had all begun.
The circling storm made it impossible to guess the time, but Dainn knew by the angle of the barely visible sun that it was close to five in the evening. The Jotunar had cleared the area of any mortals who might have braved the park in spite of the inclement weather. The Polo Fields and surrounding area was cordoned off as efficiently and thoroughly as if by a high wall manned by experienced soldiers.
But the only soldiers here now were Loki’s Jotunar and Hel with her dead. When the Gjallarhorn had blown across the city, arising from someplace not even Dainn could determine, he had known that there would be no turning back. The challenge had been laid down, and it only remained to see if Odin would accept.
And if Mist would be fighting at Dainn’s side.
“Dainn,” Loki said.
He followed Loki’s gaze. Mist was striding onto the field, hair loose and glowing as if from within, shadows under her eyes and high cheekbones. Jotunar blood streaked her clothing, and Dainn’s her sleeves.
She had read his message, as he had known she would. As he had known she would see Odin for what he was, and survive to fight against him.
“Mist,” Loki said, acknowledging her arrival.
But she didn’t seem to notice him. Her gray eyes were focused on Dainn’s. She came to him, squeezing his ribs until he was unable to draw breath. He held her lightly, his cheek against hers, breathing in her earthy scent, perspiration and blood and woman. His body stirred, and he felt the power of her emotion: relief, confusion, grief, and more intimate feelings he could not afford to acknowledge.
He pulled away gently. “You saved my life,” he said.
“I did what I could,” she said. “But Danny was responsible. If he hadn’t been—”
“We are both safe now.” He paused to satisfy himself that none of the blood on her clothing was hers. “Are you well?”
“There’s been a battle. But you know that. I’m not hurt.”
“The beast?”
“Still quiet. I told you it can’t harm me, Dainn.” She scanned the area around them, her gaze resting briefly on the Jotunar ranked behind Loki. “When did you find the Gjallarhorn?”
“We didn’t,” Loki said. “It wasn’t Odin?”
“No,” Mist said.
They all stared at each other in consternation.
“The park is empty?” Mist asked.
“Of mortals, yes,” Dainn said.
“And what of Odin?” Loki asked.
The light in her eyes dimmed. “I no longer follow him.”
“Did he turn on you?” Dainn asked, mastering his rage.
“No,” Mist said. “I turned on him first.”
“Did he realize that you did not intend to kill me?”
“He was angry that I defended you in the past. But he also knows that I destroyed Freya. Now he fears me. He fears everything and everyone that might threaten his victory. He can’t be allowed to rule this world.”
“Fancy that,” Loki muttered.
“If he suspects that the Eitr is the source of your magic,” Dainn said, “he would hate and fear you for possessing what he covets.”
“He already believes I turned it against him,” Mist said.
“He wanted me to teach him how to access it again,” Dainn said, “and he would surely have demanded the same of you if he had not determined that you were a threat to him.”
“He killed people—children—swatted them down like flies just to make a point, and then resurrected them like Einherjar. I … reacted.”
“Was that what all the noise was about?” Loki asked.
“I am sorry,” Dainn said, not knowing how to comfort her. “I knew this would come, but I could not answer your questions for you.”
“Including the question of whether or not Loki is going to betray us as soon as our backs are turned?”
“I—” Loki began.
“We can’t trust him, Dainn,” Mist said. “Your message said he didn’t have anything to do with hurting Danny, but … but he’s proven his evil again and again.”
“We have no choice,” Dainn said, stripping all inflection from his voice. “There are now three sides in this conflict—Odin’s, Loki’s, and yours. You represent the mortal inhabitants of Midgard as Odin and Loki do not, but you cannot prevail against either one alone—”
“No, indeed,” Loki said.
“—nor can you stand by while they destroy whatever lies between them and victory.”
“Loki’s piss—” Mist began.
“I beg your pardon?” Loki said.
“—you expect me to decide the fate of the whole world, here and now?”
“There is no more time. However it came about, the Gjallarhorn has been blown.” He pulled Mist aside. “Ryan insisted that we must work together. If you make no alliance with him, Loki will use his forces to wreak havoc as you and Odin fight each other, and he will have the ultimate victory. I have already undertaken the decision on your behalf, but if you still believe Odin is Midgard’s best hope and choose to make peace with him—”
“He will destroy you and everything you care for if he wins Midgard,” Loki snapped. “But if we defeat him, the contest will come back to you and me, with no interference from other Asgardians. Which odds to you prefer, Mist?”
“Don’t push it, Laufeyson,” Mist growled. “You were right about Odin, but—” She hissed through her teeth. “Danny said, ‘he will make everything bad.’ I didn’t know what he meant then, but I knew he wasn’t talking about you.”
“He spoke of Odin,” Loki said. “Now you can be certain.”
“Maybe you’re both right, but after the things you’ve done to Dainn and—”
“Mist,” Dainn said quietly, “I ask
you to trust me.”
“Do you think I didn’t feel what it was like for you when Loki—” Mist blanched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I was ashamed when you took me from the garage,” Dainn said. “I knew myself to be tainted and unworthy of you or the cause you fought for. Such feelings cannot weaken me now.”
“But it’s not because they’re gone, is it?” Mist asked, searching his eyes. “No. It’s because you’ve detached yourself from them. Nothing can touch you.”
“That isn’t quite true,” Loki said. “I—”
She swung around and kicked him hard in the groin. He yelped and bent over, clutching himself as he scrambled out of Mist’s reach.
“Mist,” Dainn said, touching her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I can no longer be certain of what I feel, as I cannot be sure of what I know. Danny and I are … very close now. His part in this is essential, though I do not understand what it will be. I cannot risk any lapse in judgment because of misplaced emotion.”
“You’re right,” she said with a crooked smile. “I know what it’s like not to be sure what you feel. But if we’re wrong about Loki…”
“Odin tried to kill Danny,” Dainn said.
He saw from Mist’s expression that she had already known, or guessed. But the shock was still there, as if hearing the words spoken aloud had shaken her deeply.
Dainn told her the details, simply and without any interjection of emotion. “Even I did not realize what was happening at the time,” he said, “as I did not know then how I had taken Danny into myself. He has no body of his own.”
“Like Bryn,” she said slowly. “Odin has her now, in the pouch that holds the Falcon Cloak.”
“But he hasn’t told you the rest,” Loki said, circling Mist like a jackal stalking a lion. “He has his Eitr and Danny’s at his fingertips, but he must take great care in using it. If too much is asked of Danny, he could cease to exist.”
“I can still use the elf-magic,” Dainn said, “as long as I do not push beyond its boundaries. And there is yet another way I can fight.” Dainn met Mist’s eyes. “Give the beast back to me.”
“No!” Loki said. “It will see Danny as a rival for mastery of your soul, and—”
“Danny can help me control it,” Dainn said.
“It’s too great a risk,” Mist said. “It could destroy you this time. We could lose everything.”
“But you have already lost,” Odin called.
* * *
Mist turned. Odin sat astride Sleipnir, ranks of Einherjar behind him framed by the dull, listless sunset. Four Valkyrie stood with him, along with Anna Stangeland, who was no longer Anna at all.
Dainn took several long, deep breaths, maintaining his state of detachment. Odin didn’t spare him as much as a glance.
“So,” the All-father said. “Is this all you have brought with you, Loki Lie-smith?”
Following Odin’s gaze, Mist seemed to notice Loki’s army for the first time, the ranks of Jotunar and the dead.
“Oh, Hel,” she whispered. “You brought her?”
“We fight Odin,” Loki said, glancing back at his daughter. “We need—”
“She took mortal lives just to prove she could get away with it,” Mist said. “If you think I’ll fight beside her…”
One of the dead stepped in front of Hel, a man with a thin, rawboned face and dressed in ragged shirt and trousers.
“Geir?” Mist said.
The man smiled, though much of his face remained in shadow. Dainn had neither seen him before nor heard his name, but it was clear that Mist spoke with more than mere recognition, or even surprise.
She had known him.
“I don’t understand,” Mist said, taking a step toward the phantom. “I thought—”
“Did you think he and his resistance would succeed?” Hel asked with a show of rotten teeth. “No rebellion against me has ever prospered, for the dead know their place, and there is nowhere they can go but into complete oblivion.”
Geir met Mist’s gaze. “I am sorry,” he said. “But we were not among those who killed innocents for Hel’s idle pleasure.”
“My pleasures are never idle,” Hel said. “And my father is most ungrateful, as are the rebels I have chosen to spare. Still, Lady Mist, I will permit you to hear this one speak.”
“Mist,” Geir said hoarsely, “you can’t win without Hel. Only the dead can truly kill the Einherjar, so they cannot rise again. But that doesn’t mean you have to become—”
He broke off with a choking sound and stumbled backward. “No!” Mist cried. She tried to follow, but Dainn gripped one arm and Loki the other, holding her until Geir faded and vanished among the dead.
“Believe me,” Loki said, “you don’t want to go there.”
Mist swung around, and Loki let go, hastily covering his genitals.
“He is right,” Dainn said, wondering what this Geir had been to Mist that she would so willingly walk into the mouth of Hel for him. “Nothing can be done for this man.”
“Surrender now,” Odin called to Mist, “and I may spare you that mortal’s fate for the sake of the services you have done me in the past.”
“He lies,” Dainn said quietly. “He will obliterate you before he sends you to Hel.”
“Odin Child-slayer,” Mist said, sweeping her arm across her face, “you are not fit to rule Midgard.”
“Then you will die, along with every mortal or Alfr who dares to follow you.”
“Where are your people, Mist?” Loki asked in a low voice.
Mist looked at Dainn. “You said they were safe.”
“Danny and I teleported them back to camp,” Dainn said.
“Did that include the Alfar?”
“Yes,” Dainn said, “but they will surely come.”
“They know better,” Odin said, shifting in his ornate saddle. “They gain nothing by giving their lives for the people of this world.”
“They will have to decide how they plan to live in it,” Mist said. She bent her head to Dainn. “I’m afraid for the mortals. I should never have gotten them involved.”
Dainn touched her arm lightly. “Remember that most of them chose to serve you and fight for their world.”
She smiled, as if his touch had restored some lost conviction. “For now, I guess it’s just the three of us, Hel, and the Jotunar,” she said.
“Remember that you possess the power of the Eitr,” Dainn said.
“If I can use it without making things worse.”
“You will.” He summoned all his courage. “Return the beast to me now.”
“Dainn—”
“You must trust me.”
She gazed into his eyes, trying without success to find what they had shared when she had entered his thoughts and taken the beast. “You won’t let me in,” she said.
Inhaling deeply, Dainn tested the strength of the protective barrier he had built around Danny’s soul and opened his mind. When she released the beast to him, he felt claws and teeth shredding his gut and lungs and liver and heart, scraping at anything that stood between it and Danny. He fell to his knees, unable to breathe, beginning to die.
“Dainn!” A touch like cool water alleviated the worst of the pain, and a healing force welled up from the very center of his being. The Eitr of light was there, the stuff of creation and growth, tempering the destructive power of the beast.
Within a few labored heartbeats, the struggle ceased. The beast was silent, and Danny …
Danny was still there, safe and whole.
“Dainn!” Mist lifted his head between her hands. “Is it all right?”
“Yes,” he said. He let her help him to his feet. “Yes. You must—”
He never had a chance to complete his warning. “I hope you’ve finished dawdling,” Loki said. “Here he comes.”
Odin shook Gungnir, bellowing curses and battle cries. The Einherjar echoed him, one great roar of male voices, and Odin’s Valkyrie joined w
ith their higher-pitched yells.
Lifting Gungnir over his head, Odin attacked.
* * *
Mist was already gathering the forge-magic as she rushed to meet the Einherjar vanguard. Dainn ran at her side, and she could feel the elf-magic awakening inside him. The Jotunar loped behind them, clubs and axes ready to swing.
Loki and Hel hung back, engaged in some kind of insanely ill-timed argument. Mist didn’t have time to find out what it was about. She struck the first Einherjar with the full weight of her body … only half that of his, but she was the one who knocked him down. He raised his ax to defend himself, and Mist hesitated, remembering a thousand other battlefields when she had saved warriors just like him.
The ax swung at her legs, and she brought Kettlingr down, severing his arm from his body. Then she was facing the next Einherji, and the next, and Dainn was awakening dormant insects and worms from beneath the grass to swarm over the warriors, slowing but not stopping them. Jotunar beat their way through the crush of Einherjar, striking wildly and randomly at whatever they could reach.
Still Hel remained behind, and there was no sign of Loki. Mist was hardly surprised that he’d turned coward. As she felled two more Einherjar, three others she’d killed sprang to their feet.
That was Odin’s great advantage, apart from his own magic. His army revived itself. There was no guarantee that any of the Einherjar would stay down without Hel and the dead to make sure of it.
But there might be another way to delay their resurrections.
“Dainn!” she shouted.
He broke off what he was doing—binding five Einherjar in writhing tree roots—and ran to join her.
“Keep them away,” Mist said, indicating the next wave of Einherjar with a jerk of her chin.
Dainn didn’t ask her what she planned to do. He pulled sandy soil from the ground beneath his feet, sang an elven Rune-spell, and flung a wall of dirt at the warriors, who coughed and stumbled as they scrubbed at their eyes.
Mist called on the forge-magic, shaping Rune-staves of iron, steel, and fire into a net of fine but immensely heavy metal filaments, each one burning red and black. As one dead Einherji began to rise, she flung it over him, and he was trapped before the transformation was complete.
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