Perfekt Control (The Ære Saga Book 2)

by S. T. Bende

  This place seriously sucked.

  “So blades won’t hurt you.” Henrik countered Hel’s predatory circle. “I’m guessing fire’s not a big deal either.”

  “No.” Hel’s lips stretched into a cruel smile.

  “Hmm. Then I guess the only thing I’ve got up my sleeve is this.” Henrik whipped Barney out of his pocket.

  “And that is?” Hel studied her fingernails in apparent boredom. Behind her, an extremely angry dragon hovered over a semi-conscious Tyr.

  “A little something that levels the playing field.” Henrik gave me a wink. Then pulled the satchel of breakdown powder from his pocket with one hand and fired Barney with the other. The room rippled as the device emitted the wave we’d programmed to freeze time. Henrik leapt at Hel, preparing to apply the powder to her time-frozen body. It would only disable those protective enchantments she’d cast on herself—it wouldn’t extinguish the spells she’d cast on me and Freya. But it was our best shot… and the only one we had left.

  Gods, I hoped this worked.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I HELD MY BREATH as the ripple moved toward me and time froze. The next instant, Henrik stood at my side, a grin as wide as the chasm in the floor across his face.

  “Point, Asgard.” He chuckled. “I’d high five you, but you’re still stuck to the wall. Sorry about that; apparently Barney has a shorter functionality time in the field than we planned for. I’ll just cut you down—”

  He was interrupted by an angry monster flinging herself onto his back.

  “What. Did. You. Do?” Hel shrieked, turning a palm on Henrik in a vain attempt to shoot a spell.

  “The breakdown powder did its job. You’re incapable of producing new magic. It looks like you have to fight hand to hand. And sorry, sweetheart, but that’s my strength. Not yours.” Henrik reached around and flung Hel to the ground. She scrambled to her feet, then launched herself at Henrik’s ankles. He landed on the ice with a sickening crack. My stomach clenched as blood seeped from his head.

  “No,” I whispered. I fought against my bindings with every ounce of strength I had, but it wasn’t enough. Hel’s entrapment was too strong. I’d spent my life training for this very moment—to protect Asgard, Midgard, and all the realms in between from the unspeakable horrors Hel’s dominion would bring. To ensure Freya’s all-encompassing love was always available for those beings that chose to embrace it. To make sure nobody ever suffered the pain of losing someone they loved to the darkness.

  Nobody like me.

  As if sensing my thoughts, Henrik lifted himself from the pool of blood. As he launched himself at Hel, he spoke directly to me. “Come on, sötnos. Do it for Anja.”

  And though the words were barely more than a whisper, they traveled through my ear and pierced my heart, unleashing emotions I’d fought so hard to check. Henrik, more than anyone, understood the pain of losing my sister. After the ninth day of Freya’s first disappearance, the mortals had turned on each other. History wrote it off as another war, but it was so much worse than that. The mortals hadn’t been able to help themselves. An energy vacuum just wasn’t sustainable, and a realm void of love must necessarily fill itself with energy of another kind.

  The darkness was only too happy to take over.

  I whipped my head from side to side, fighting Hel’s invisible restraints. Dark magic was powerful; I knew that. But hers was stronger than anything I’d encountered. It burned at my forehead, wrists and ankles—each spot the evil ties touched. My movement loosened the ties enough that I could shift my head to see Freya’s crumpled form. She lay crouched, shaking under the weight of her curse. Her shoulders were hunched and her normally glossy hair was stringy with sweat and tears. The sight of the powerful Goddess of Love beaten into submission was heartbreaking. Freya’s gift was the most powerful thing in all the realms. My sister had known that. And she’d chosen to give her life fighting for it.

  On the ground, Freya whimpered, a sound of hopelessness that pelted my already bruised heart. I closed my eyes and for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to remember.

  Anja was sent to Midgard as a young Norn. Because she was kind and pure and knew the importance of love in shaping a realm, she was tasked early on with prophesying the fates of human babies and setting them on the path to finding their perfekt match. When Freya was kidnapped, most of the Norns fled their posts and returned to the safety of Asgard. Not Anja. Although she knew the mortals were taken with darkness, Anja chose to stay behind. She was alone and largely defenseless as she traveled from home to home, laying blessings on the human newborns and imbedding the choices that would lead them to their true loves deep within their subconscious. She believed humans’ innate goodness would overcome the darkness, and that one day the world would again be beautiful; full of hope; full of love. Just as she was.

  Freya was rescued on the eleventh day. A bomb killed my sister on the tenth.

  I squeezed my eyes harder to stop the moisture seeping out. The mortals hadn’t known some of their bombs were infused with dark magic, just as my parents hadn’t known my sister had stayed behind—they’d believed she was on lockdown in the Norns’ Asgardian compound, enhancing the protection of Yggdrasil, the world tree that linked all nine realms. But I’d known where Anja was. She’d sent me a message and asked me not to tell my parents she’d stayed behind to serve the mortals. I could have betrayed her confidence—told them where she was and made them evacuate her. But I trusted Anja knew what she was doing. In her message, she told me she was aware of the risks of remaining on Midgard, and chose to stay for the good of humankind. That was love. That was ære. And that was what we fought for.

  My eyelids flew open as I let out a wail. The trickle of emotions within lapped at my heart, and for the first time in years I did the unthinkable.

  I released my perfekt control, and with it the shackles of fear. In that moment, I chose love.

  I hoped it would be enough.

  Asgardians are taught there are two choices in life—act from fear, or act from love. Since my sister’s death, all of my decisions had come from fear—fear of physically or emotionally losing someone I loved; fear of losing myself; fear of letting my family down; fear of losing control. Every choice, no matter how minute, was made based on fear. And where had it gotten me? Shackled in Hel’s lair, watching the love of my existence bleed out in the icy underworld, while the realms’ chance at survival wept in a cage.

  Fear wasn’t exactly working out for me.

  But love… love offered the world. As I closed my eyes and purged the years of fear into the bowels of Hel’s inner sanctum, I shed layers of agony that weighed so heavily it was a wonder I’d ever withstood their weight. The fear left in layers, and I felt the magnitude of each as it passed through my consciousness—the pain at losing my sister mixed with the humiliation at Henrik’s rebuff, the frustration at the restraints of the valkyrie structure, and the loneliness I felt knowing it could be years before I truly experienced the love my kind fought daily to protect. But as the negative emotions ebbed from my heart, I released them from my body and opened myself to love. And I was filled with an overwhelming lightness that made my skin vibrate and my hands shake. I clung to the sensation, zeroing in on the first love I’d ever known—my love for my parents, my brother, and Anja. The golden memories of my beautiful childhood glowed inside of me like a pristine sunrise. Then I opened my mind to the love that graced my life in the years that had followed; my love for Elsa, Freya, and later Mia—the friends who blessed my heart in the simplest ways; my love for Tyr, Forse, Gunnar—guys whose gentle heckling reminded me someone was always looking out for me. As I thought of each drop of love that had touched my life, the fire inside burned brighter so my heart felt it had erupted in a flame equal in strength to a star’s glow.

  With my power at an all-time high, I wrenched my hands apart, knowing I’d break the ropes. Surely Hel’s dark magic couldn’t bind all the love had Odin gifted to me. But the
ropes didn’t move. It wasn’t enough.

  My heart constricted, reminding me that I hadn’t unleashed the most powerful tool in my arsenal.

  Oh, gods.

  Henrik represented my biggest fear—the fear that after all the years of friendship, of knowing all my hopes and dreams, my secrets and flaws, that he would reject me. And a rejection by the god who knew me better than anyone was something I didn’t think even my abundantly blessed heart could take. But as I watched him bleeding, his bare hands turning blue with Hel’s icy enchantment as he tried to choke the underworld’s leader to save the nine realms, I realized there was nothing to gain by holding myself back.

  There was only everything to lose.

  I opened the hermetically sealed black box and unleashed the love I felt for Henrik. For the child who’d stood up for me on the playground, the adolescent who took the high road when so many of his friends chose the easy way out, for the warrior who dedicated his life to protecting the gods he loved, and the realms he was sworn to defend. With no effort at all, I let the waves of love wash over me, and I pushed the feeling through my torso, out my extremities, and directed it at Henrik.

  It was probably coincidence, or maybe Hel was distracted by the change in my energy—Elsa swore energetic shifts were palpable, and maybe she was right. But as I opened myself up to the unfettered love I could no longer restrain, the power shifted from Hel to Henrik. Suddenly he had the upper hand, and it was Hel who looked on him with fear. The blue ebbed from Henrik’s fingers as he tightened his grip around Hel’s neck. He pushed her to the ground, driving his knee into her chest with a glorious crack. She lay pinned beneath him, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she struggled for breath. And Henrik drew his dagger, holding it high above his head.

  “Checkmate.” Henrik grinned down at his conquest. “Tyr, what’s the order?”

  Tyr exhaled loudly. My gaze shifted to where he was locked in a stand down with Nidhogg. The dragon had its feet wrapped protectively around its thick red crystal, while Tyr had his hands wrapped comfortably around the helm of his broadsword. He held the sword high, ready to deflect a flame or impale a lizard. Or maybe both.

  “Tyr,” Henrik urged. I could see the desire to remove the threat written across his beautiful features. It was what he did. And I loved him for it.

  Gods, I loved him so very much. If I had to wait two hundred more years to act on that love, I’d do it. He was worth it.

  “Now we play let’s make a deal.” Tyr kept his sword aloft. “I want the crystal, Freya, Brynn, and the promise these monsters never again attempt to harm our love goddess in any way. I also want you to release the dwarves I know you’re keeping somewhere in here, and send them back to their home realm. That’s right—I know about your weird science experiment. In exchange, we free the trapped dragons and let you live. Do we have a bargain?”

  Hel’s mouth opened and closed. Now, more than just her left side had turned dark blue.

  “I said, do we have a bargain?” Tyr’s calm voice echoed off the smooth icy walls.

  Henrik loosened his grip just enough for Hel to squeak her consent. The dragon king narrowed its eyes, but gave a regal nod.

  “The words are binding. Let it be done.” Tyr lowered his sword and Nidhogg nudged the crystal forward with one giant toe. Henrik looked disappointed, but removed his hand from Hel’s throat and stepped off her chest. She curled into the fetal position, gasping and clawing at her throat.

  “Release them,” Tyr growled.

  Hel glared, but she waved a hand in my direction. Freya’s cage disappeared at the same time the searing pain left my head, ankles and wrists. I ran to Freya’s side, and wrapped my arms around her shoulders, helping her stand. Her eyes were foggy and unrecognizing. She felt cold and weak in my arms. No doubt she’d experienced horrors she wouldn’t want to relive.

  “It’s okay,” I murmured as I pulled her to me. Her teeth chattered against my shoulder. “We’ve got you. And we have their word this will never happen again.”

  “Takk,” Freya rasped into my chest. Her body shook from head to toe.

  “We’ve got to get her out of here.” I turned to Hel, ignoring the way her eyes shot icy venom. “What’s the fastest way back to the cavern room?”

  “The cavern room?” she asked.

  “You know; the place you drop into when you jump from the outlands—the spot where all the dragons are. The first space this side of the black abyss of Hel’s gate. If you want us to uphold our bargain and free the dragons, tell us the fastest way to get there. Then we can get out of here, and Odin willing, never come back.”

  “Maybe you won’t, valkyrie, but he will,” Hel rasped. “I will possess you, War. The powers of my soldiers have grown, and I promise, we’ll ensure that you belong to me.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Henrik interjected. “What did our source tell us, Brynn? Something along the lines of, when a subterranean-based Nidavellir crystal is shattered, its power returns to the earth and it becomes just another rock. Does that ring a bell?”

  “It does,” I nodded. “It really does.”

  “No!” Hel gasped.

  “Yes.” Tyr took the crystal and threw it on the ground. It shattered into tiny pieces, the red seeping out of the shards as they slipped down the ravine in the center of the room. Nidhogg let out a harrowing wail, clamoring to the edge of the crevice as the crystal’s remains disappeared in the abyss.

  Tyr wiped his hands. “I trust the super soldiers will no longer be an issue. And I trust the dwarves will be returned to Nidavellir within the hour. I’ll send an Elite Team member to confirm their arrival, and if they aren’t back then I will personally see to your punishment. Now I do believe my companion asked about an exit?”

  Hel rubbed her throat. “The only way out is the way you came. When your Alfödr sentenced me to an eternity in Nifhel, he disabled the use of portals.”

  “Disabled portals? But you’ve got a link to Muspelheim. It’s how you’re accessing the super soldiers… isn’t it?” I asked.

  “Yes. But that portal exists in the outlands—in Niflheim. Inside the inner eight levels of Helheim, there are no shortcuts. Odin designed it that way.” Hel’s disgust was tempered with another emotion. Fear? Could it be that she was afraid of Odin? I filed that nugget away for future use.

  “Fair enough. We’ve got a sample to collect in the outlands anyway, ja?” Henrik met my eye with a wink.

  To be honest, I’d totally forgotten, what with the burning bindings and kidnapping rescue and near death by dragon and all. But the prospect of experimenting on the irid crystals with Henrik gave my brain a buzz, and before I knew it, I brimmed with excitement.

  “Yes. Yes, we do. Okay. Let’s get out of here. Wait.” I turned to Hel and let my gaze pierce her evil soul. The minute I saw her empty eyes, the hollowness of her life filled me with sadness. She would never know the love we fought to protect. She was too filled with hatred and bitterness, too locked into the wounds of her past to appreciate the hopes of the future. My threat fell mute on my lips. Nothing I could say would make her life any more torturous than it already was. Her darkness kept her trapped in her own personal Helheim.

  I tightened my grip on Freya and marched her to Tyr. “She’s too weak to walk the whole way on her own. You fly her to the outlands. Henrik and I will free the dragons and meet you there.”

  Tyr nodded. He lifted Freya in his arms and pressed his forehead to hers. “Don’t scare me again, okay, battle axe? I’m not sure the black parts of my heart can hold out next time.”

  Freya smiled thinly as she wrapped her arms around Tyr’s neck and spoke in a weak voice. “If they haven’t turned you yet, halfling, I doubt there’s anything that can. Take me home. There’s some business I need to talk to Brynn about.”

  What? Had Brynhild somehow gotten to her? I shot a panicked look at Henrik but he just gave a sanguine smile. His refusal to be a stress case like me was infuriating.

 
“Deal. Henrik, Brynn, finish out our business here and meet us in the Niflheim forest. We’ll catch the Bifrost from there.” Tyr rose from the ground, carrying Freya as he flew through the entry of Hel’s sanctuary, en route to the outlands.

  “We’re on it.” Henrik crossed to my side and gripped my hand. My pulse skyrocketed as he took off running, pulling me with him. We raced through the levels of Helheim, fully expecting Hel to go back on her word, but the ikkedød and souls of the mortals let us pass, so that we reached the door to the cavern room in a quarter of the time it had taken us to descend. I put my hand on the door to open it, but Henrik pulled me back.

  I turned, the question in my eyes, and Henrik tapped his ear. Oh, right. I forgot we’d be paralyzed by the sound wave the minute we opened the door.

  “I’ll call Tyr; he can send the muffling spell through the phone. But before I do, there’s something I need you to know.” Henrik cupped my face in his hands, and rested his forehead against mine. My breathing became very shallow.

  “Yes?” I squeaked.

  “What you did back there,” he began, “I felt it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.

  “Yes, you do.” Henrik’s lips turned up in a smile. Gods, they were beautiful lips. Perfect lips. Pale pink, with just a touch of fullness. They were really soft too, if my mortifying memory served correctly. But also hard when he wanted them to be. And probably demanding. And—stop it Brynn!

  “Nope. Don’t.” I clamped my mouth shut.

  “Well, before we go back up there and deal with whatever Freya’s going to dish out, I just need you to know.” Henrik rubbed his thumb across my cheek. My knees turned to the consistency of Jell-O.

  “Hmm?” I whimpered. Immortal battle goddess and you whimper? Seriously, get it together, Brynn.

  “I need you to know that I feel the same way.”

  Back the Bifrost up. Henrik felt the same way? My heart soared right out of my chest, through the pit of Helheim, and so high into the cosmos Heimdall probably mistook it for a shooting star. Henrik. Andersson. Was. Into. Me?!