Battlestorm

by Susan Krinard

  “Mist?” Taylor said.

  “Go,” Mist said, giving Danny a gentle push toward the captain. “Take her and Sleipnir. I have other work to do.”

  Taylor grabbed Danny-Rebekka’s hand and shouted to the others. Mist was alone when the beast came—tongue lolling, confident, fearless.

  There was nothing of Dainn in his eyes.

  Mist remembered the ancient Runes she had heard Dainn use before, the ones she had seen in Danny’s mind. She knew their structure now, their alphabet, the way they worked. She sang them silently, one by one, and let them simmer in the back of her thoughts like a potent witch’s brew.

  The beast sat back on its haunches and laughed.

  Mist, it said into her mind. Give the child to me.

  “I know why you want him,” she said, tightening her grip on Kettlingr. “You think that only one of you can exist inside Dainn, joined with his Eitr. You’re wrong.” She crouched and laid down her sword. “You know that Odin didn’t create you. You were always the dark half of Dainn’s power. His mistake was to deny that you existed until it was too late. When Odin cursed Dainn, you were set free. But even freedom isn’t without limits.”

  I will never go back into the shadows.

  “Odin made you into a weapon to turn against Loki during the Last Battle, but Dainn didn’t let you win. Now Odin has you again, and he doesn’t even have to tell you what to do.”

  I am no man’s tool.

  Mist looked deeply into the beast’s eyes. “Dainn, fight it. You’ve mastered it before, without Danny. You can do it again. I have faith in you.”

  The beast roared, scraping deep furrows in the snow with its claws. She could feel Dainn struggling to break free, but Odin’s curse lingered, a final barrier he couldn’t overcome.

  She plunged into the beast’s mind, into its darkness, and made herself one with it. The beast convulsed, but Dainn remained beyond her reach. She let the Eitr flow into her, felt it merge with Dainn’s, bubbling and seething and seeking destruction.

  Her mind grew clouded, filled with thoughts of triumph just beyond her reach. It had to be finished.

  A tall elf tried to stand in her way as she set off to find Odin, and she drew a narrow bolt of lightning out of the clouds to strike him down. A dark-skinned mortal pursued her, calling her name, and she wrenched a stone from the ground with half a thought and hurled it back at him.

  No one else dared disturb her as she strode across the field. Odin stood alone on a hillock, guarded by a dozen mortal hostages and three times as many Einherjar who flailed at her with their axes and swords. She twisted her fingers, and heavy branches snapped off the nearest trees. She shaped them as they flew, and they impaled the Einherjar. Some went wide of the mark and struck mortals instead. Mist hardly noticed.

  “All-father!” she called.

  He looked up, teeth bared behind his blood-spattered beard. “Mist,” he said. He waved his hand, and a dozen new mortals, men and women who had never seen a battle in their lives, ran to him like well-trained dogs. Whipped dogs, cringing and afraid.

  “Come,” Odin said. “I am ready.”

  Mist laughed.

  * * *

  Ryan vomited into the snow, got to his feet again, and ran after Mist, calling her name again and again.

  She was too busy killing to hear him. His stomach heaved, and he raised his voice.

  As if she had just noticed a fly buzzing around her head, Mist glanced over her shoulder.

  “This is only a part of you!” Ryan yelled. “Remember who you are!”

  “This is what she is, boy!” Odin shouted, kicking fallen mortals away from his boots. “It is what she has always been! Or didn’t your visions prepare you?”

  They hadn’t, Ryan thought. Not like this. But he was responsible, because somewhere along the line he’d made the wrong decision: to tell or not to tell what he had seen of the future, to act or remain passive. He could blame only himself.

  Before he could speak again, the beast loped up behind him, tongue lolling, eyes slitted. Mist half-turned to face him, and for a moment she seemed torn between Dainn and Odin.

  “Perhaps you can still save him,” Odin shouted.

  “Maybe I don’t want to!” she answered. “We both want you dead!”

  “But only one of you can face me,” Odin said, brandishing Gungnir.

  Immediately the beast turned on Mist. They stared at each other, bound by the dark Eitr, ready to kill.

  “No!” Ryan called. “You’re tied together now. You’ll both die! You have to—”

  Not fight it, he thought. That would only make the darkness stronger.

  “Dainn!” he yelled. “Look at me!”

  The beast swung its head around, blinking in confusion.

  “Remember the light!” Danny said. “You saved a million lives! Can you take Mist’s now?”

  Crouching low, the beast backed away from Mist, stumbling over bodies in his way. He shook his head as if casting off parasites, and began to whine deep in his throat.

  “I know you hear me, Dainn,” Ryan said. “Mist remembers what you hid from yourself. You can see it. You can feel what she means to you. You are together, and the only way to save her is to save yourself.”

  Mist thrust Kettlingr at the beast. “Will you fight, cur?” she demanded.

  He growled and whined and retreated, shivering violently.

  “You can’t just conquer the beast, Dainn,” Ryan said. “It’s part of you. You have to accept it. Just like Mist has to accept—”

  A heavy stone from the enemy ranks struck Ryan full in the chest. He hit the ground hard and bit into his tongue. Something felt wrong inside his ribs.

  It hurt, but not as much as screwing up. He had to make them understand.

  “You have to accept,” he whispered. “Both of you. Everything that … you are, dark and light, or it’s all going to end.”

  With a contemptuous glance at Dainn, Mist moved to stand over Ryan. “Everything I am is here,” she said.

  “No.” He coughed. “Dark and light,” he said. “Both … necessary. Don’t let … either one…”

  Without warning, a little girl ran up to them, waving her arms. Rebekka’s arms, Ryan thought, but also Danny’s. Loki was right behind him. He tried to grab Danny, but Rebekka’s body fought like a demon and ran straight to Dainn.

  Ryan felt the beast struggle to escape Dainn’s control. He clawed at his own chest, howled, tore at his flesh with razor fangs.

  Then Ryan felt something pass between Dainn and Danny. The beast froze, and the little girl’s body collapsed like a doll thrown into the snow. Loki fell to his knees beside Danny with a short, sharp cry.

  Dainn knelt where the beast had been, his face drained of color. And Mist … Ryan felt her shock and horror, saw the dark Eitr spin madly inside her as if it had no way to escape.

  With dazed eyes, Ryan looked for Odin. He was watching the drama play out as if he had nothing to do with it, the corners of his heavy mustache curving up in a slight smile. If he’d wanted to attack them, he and his soldiers could have done it anytime. The fact that he hadn’t even tried scared Ryan more than the pain in his chest.

  “Mist!” Odin said.

  Her head swung toward him slowly. Ryan had the sense that the world was closing in around the three of them, the storm clearing in a circle wide enough to encompass Valkyrie, god, and Ryan.

  Everything else had ceased to exist.

  “This is your doing,” Mist said to Odin, her face a mask of hatred.

  “I underestimated your foolish devotion to the creatures who inhabit this world,” Odin said, leaning his weight on Gungnir’s shaft as Einherjar began to rise from the bloody ground at his feet.

  “You speak of the ‘creatures’ who once looked to you for wisdom instead of death,” Mist snarled.

  “But I was also their god of battles,” Odin said.

  “You incited the peaceful to strife. You were the patron of outlaws.”

/>   “And what are you, Mist? Nothing but a bringer of death.”

  “You killed the first living being in our universe.”

  “All creation must come from death,” Odin said. “The Eitr of Ginnungagap was the substance from which Ymir sprang, and my brothers and I could not create without the Eitr. His death gave us that power, and with it we made Midgard and its inhabitants.”

  “So the legends say.”

  “Nothing is beyond the power of the Eitr. It was mine to wield as I chose. But my access to the Eitr was stolen from me, along with the spells I used to control it. I had no memory of how to retrieve that power. My Aesir blamed the Vanir, and the Vanir refused to accept responsibility. So came the war between us.”

  “Which the Aesir won,” Mist said. “But it wasn’t one of them who stole it, was it?”

  A black cloud seemed to settle over Odin’s eye. “No,” he said. “But I know who did.”

  33

  “Loki,” Mist said.

  “Oh, no,” Odin said. “He was never so powerful. But a being reborn into Loki’s son—the offspring of the elf who can also touch the Eitr…”

  “Danny?” Mist asked, her voice rising in disbelief. “You think he’s the reincarnation of whatever stole your Eitr?”

  “The reincarnation, the embodiment … what difference?” Odin asked. “I did not know until I saw him with Sleipnir and felt his magic, but then I recognized our greatest enemy. And the one from whom I must regain my power.”

  “He’s a little boy, and you tried to kill him!”

  “I arranged for Dainn to kill him. It seems as if he may finally have succeeded.”

  “You’re insane,” Mist said.

  “Am I? What better parents could such a creature choose than the greatest of Tricksters and the First Elf?”

  “The First Elf?” Mist repeated. “Dainn?”

  “You knew he was very old, did you not?” Odin asked. “That he came to Asgard a wanderer, with no memory of his past?”

  “The First Elf is said to have been born in the time of your father, Bor. How could he have forgotten his true self if you haven’t?”

  “I do not know, nor do I care. But he, too, possessed the Eitr when he came to Asgard. He has said he had no knowledge of it, but I saw in him what no other did … not only the light, but the darkness he had hidden away. The noble elf without flaw had a terrible secret. When I learned that Dainn had fallen to Loki’s blandishments in pursuit of his hope to stop Ragnarok, I simply woke that darkness and gave it shape.”

  “I know,” Mist whispered. “You turned it into the beast.”

  “I sent it to kill Loki,” Odin said. “Dainn failed me that night. He let Loki live and came to Midgard, where at last he became Freya’s tool.”

  “He believed Freya’s lies when she said she could cure him.”

  “Only death will end its hold on him, and death will come as a mercy. You could have given him that mercy.”

  Mist was silent for a long time after that, and Ryan knew she was remembering something important, something Odin might not know. The burst of light, the supernova Ryan had seen so many times …

  He laughed, though it hurt and made him cough up blood. It was so clear now. Maybe Odin was insane when he said that Danny had stolen his Eitr before the kid had even been born. Maybe he was lying. But he didn’t seem to know that Dainn had stopped Ragnarok with the help of the dark part of himself.

  “You have lost Dainn,” Odin said. “His son’s death will have driven him mad. But Dainn is no longer of concern to me. You are.”

  “I will never serve you again.”

  “Your mother bred you for one purpose: to wield the Eitr as she no longer could.” He showed his teeth. “Yes, I know about your many fathers, as I knew you could navigate the fourth circle of magic the first time I met you in this body.”

  “You knew?”

  “Did you believe me when I told you that the tattoo was only meant to track the first three circles of magic? It always responded to the Eitr. The truth was within in it all along.

  “You were meant not only to be Freya’s champion, but my destroyer. I made certain that my seed was planted in her womb at precisely the right time. You are my daughter, and now you will give me what I always wanted from you.”

  * * *

  “I always wondered which god had a part in siring me,” Mist said coldly, feeling the dark Eitr dissolve with her shock. “I hoped it wasn’t Thor, but I never guessed it could be you.”

  “But you realized that you would not still be alive if you were not kin to me, whatever your magical gifts,” Odin said. “I see that you still doubt me. Know, then, that with the Eitr I can end this war swiftly, with minimal loss of mortal life. Only the wicked will die, and Loki will join his daughter in the afterworld, never to return.”

  And you, Mist thought, will rule as tyrant, destroying any being who doesn’t bow his head to you.

  “Mist,” someone called weakly behind her.

  She spun around. Ryan was lying in bloodstained snow, his arm stretched toward her. She had been utterly oblivious to his presence.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Ryan whispered.

  A blast of noise and light swirled in around them, and Odin vanished. Mist saw the bodies of mortals broken in the snow where Odin had been standing a moment before. Men and women she had been responsible for.

  She was the killer, the assassin, the wielder of dark Eitr.

  “Ryan!” she cried, running to kneel beside him. The blood on his lips told her that he was hurt somewhere inside, and she didn’t dare move him.

  “Dainn!” she shouted, looking about wildly. “Gods, Dainn…”

  He appeared out of the snow, his clothes sodden and his eyes black wells of despair. Loki trudged behind him, Danny-Rebekka in his arms. The child wasn’t moving.

  Shutting off her emotions, Mist forced herself to think only of the living. She looked into Dainn’s eyes.

  He was not mad, whatever Odin had claimed. But she had no time for relief.

  “Dainn,” she said, “you healed Ryan before. I need you to do it again.”

  The elf stared down at Ryan, his hands working at his sides, tears freezing on his cheeks. He knelt slowly. Mist looked away from Dainn’s sorrow and saw other shapes emerge from the white, several of her own fighters and a dozen women wrapped tightly in colorful shawls. Gabi was among them.

  So was Konur. He ran up to Mist, condensation wreathing his head, and took in the situation with a quick, perceptive glance. His gaze fixed on Loki, who stood unmoving, his expression blank.

  “I’ve brought the Alfar from camp,” Konur said without preamble. “Do you need us?”

  “Did you see Odin?” she asked. “He was here, and then just disappeared.”

  “The fighting is concentrated near the west end of the Polo Fields,” Konur said. “Odin is not there, but the Einherjar are doing considerable damage to your mortals.”

  Mist swore. She should be with her warriors, not here. But she couldn’t abandon Ryan, or leave Loki and Dainn alone.

  Dainn rose stiffly. “I cannot help Ryan,” he said in a choked voice. Gabi moved up beside him, followed by the beshawled women, and flung herself down beside her friend.

  “Madre de Dios,” she whispered.

  “Gabi,” Ryan said faintly. “Where did you … go?”

  “Shut up,” she said. “I have to heal you now.”

  The women gathered around Gabi, Ryan, Dainn, and Mist, forming another circle that cut off the rest of the world. Mist searched the unfamiliar faces—brown faces, some old and careworn, others young, all imbued with a quiet wisdom that was a balm in the midst of chaos. Each of them wore a cross around her neck, and some began to chant or sing softly as Gabi laid her hands on Ryan’s chest.

  Ryan gasped several times, fresh blood trickling from his mouth. He shuddered, teeth chattering, and suddenly lay still.

  “Gabi!” Mist said.

  “He’s…” Gabi lif
ted her swollen hands. “¡Mis madres, mis hermanas, ayuadame!”

  The girls and women linked arms, and the two nearest Gabi touched her head and shoulder. She laid her hands on Ryan again. His eyelids fluttered. His chest rose and fell in a deep sigh.

  Gabi lifted her hands. They were a little swollen, a little red, but she was smiling.

  “He’ll be okay,” she said. She looked at Mist, and her smile turned into a fierce expression Mist recognized all too well. “If he wakes up, don’t let him tell you anything! He could die if he speaks any visions.”

  “I won’t let him,” Mist said.

  The women broke the circle and spoke in soft Spanish, words of comfort and approval. Mist glanced at Dainn, whose gaze was turned inward, and beyond him to Loki and Danny-Rebekka. The girl’s face was slack and pale. Loki came back to life as if someone had turned on a switch, radiating an almost fiery heat. His eyes glowed with savagery.

  “If you’re healers,” he snarled, “help my son!”

  Slowly Gabi rose, glancing at Mist. “His son?”

  “And Dainn’s. Will you help him?” She saw the look on Gabi’s face and said, “Loki won’t hurt you. He cares about Danny too much.”

  And it was true, Mist thought. He might not care about anyone else in the world, but he loved his son. Maybe almost as much as Dainn did.

  Hesitantly, Gabi moved toward Loki and Danny. Loki conjured a blanket, laid Danny down on it, and stepped back.

  After a few quiet prayers and whispered references to El Diablo, the women followed Gabi, who gathered Danny-Rebekka into her arms with great tenderness. Once again the curanderas formed a tight circle around the healer and her patient.

  Then one of them cried out. The circle broke open, and Mist saw Gabi lying beside Danny in the snow. Before Mist could act, the curanderas had carried Gabi a little distance away and were already praying over her, while Danny-Rebekka was sitting up with Loki’s support.

  “What’s wrong with Gabi?” Mist demanded. “¿Que pasa con Gabi?”

  One of the women made a shushing gesture and turned back to the teenager. A few moments later, Ryan—apparently healed but still weak—staggered up to the wall of human bodies and pushed his way through to Gabi.