Chapter 32
Vincent blinked, and everything changed. Destiny, the knights, the dozens of dead bodies, and even the sun disappeared, replaced by a canopy of constellations that stretched across the cloudless sky. Several feet away, the flames of a small campfire danced wildly, making one half of his face uncomfortably warm while leaving the other side as cold as a gravestone.
He sat up suddenly, his heart racing.
Does Valenthor always wake up in a state of panic? Whoever’s directing this show needs a new trick.
Vincent looked around the campsite. The three knights, still wearing their heavy armor, lay motionless on the other side of the fire. Sir Angus had insisted on lighting a fire, arguing that the likelihood of freezing to death without one eclipsed the risk of attracting more Jötunn.
How can I remember that when I wasn’t there? Did I lose control to Valenthor in between the conversation with that giant and now? Or did the conversation about lighting a campfire not really happen…like when a memory in a dream becomes real the exact moment you think of it?
It suddenly occurred to Vincent that something was very wrong. One didn’t light a beacon in enemy territory without keeping watch, and all three knights were sleeping soundly. Up until a few seconds ago, Valenthor had been too.
Then he noticed Destiny was gone.
Vincent reached for his hammer and peered into the dense blackness that ringed the meager firelight. Although he hoped the elf had gone to answer nature’s call, he suspected something more sinister—something more significant—was occurring.
Which means it must be time for me to wander off and find out what happened to her.
Quietly, he slipped away from the snoring knights, heading in the same direction that the elf had been leading him for the past few days, first while following the magical pull of Locke’s mask and, later, while following her inner compass to Yggdrasil. Apparently, that’s where Daniel had been headed all along.
Vincent didn’t question where the vague memories of the long, exhausting hike with Destiny and the knights came from or how he was able to use the stars to orient himself. In some ways, The Dream was like any other dream. Logic took a backseat to momentum.
If I keep moving forward, eventually I’ll find Daniel. He’ll make sure of that.
After several minutes, Vincent’s eyes adjusted to the starlight, and he could make out more and more features of the landscape. The rocky terrain presented enough natural obstacles to keep him stumbling. Since he had survived the battle against the Jötunn, he wasn’t too worried about walking off a cliff. Valenthor was the hero of the story. Vincent was beginning to think he was invincible.
Nonetheless, he jumped and nearly lost his balance altogether when Destiny’s voice came out of nowhere:
“It was foolish of me not to ensnare you in the same slumber spell as the knights.”
Vincent saw her an instant later, standing on a rocky outcropping and looking as though she herself were made of stone, a majestic statue whose beauty alone might have drawn him onward except for the severe expression on her face.
She carried no weapon, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous. The three unconscious knights were evidence of that.
Just what I need, another plot twist.
“So why didn’t you cast your spell on me?” Vincent asked, daring to take a step closer.
“If the Jötunn discovered you, I did not want your sleep’s hold to be so strong that you could not hear their approach,” she replied.
Vincent took another step toward her. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to stick with the knights. Sir Angus is an asshole. But that’s no reason to ditch me too.”
The hardness of Destiny’s countenance crumbled, and her sudden sadness was so palpable Vincent stopped mid step. Her stern expression returned an instant later. “Our paths must diverge here, Valenthor. You cannot follow me to Yggdrasil.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You came to me, remember? You asked me to save your homeland, and I followed you because you convinced me I could save my daughter. What makes you think I’m going to give up now?”
Her jaw stiffened, but she didn’t look away. “The Ancestors entrust only the high priests to preserve that most hallowed of shrines. No human has ever beheld the holy sanctuary of Yggdrasil. Your presence would defile it.”
“The world is about to end, and you’re worried about breaking the rules?” Vincent exclaimed. “If you and I have a shot at stopping Daniel…at stopping Locke and the Jötunn, then your gods should be grateful we’re dropping by.”
Destiny looked away. Vincent wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her—or shake the truth out of her—but a battle was raging inside of her, and he didn’t want to give her a reason to lash out with her magic.
Finally, she said, “My people have known of the prophecy since the dawn of the ages. As has been foretold, the Dark Ones, those vile spirits who corrupted the Jötunn and wrought evil in the hearts of men, have finally returned to enslave the mortal races. If their conquest is to be thwarted, the Chosen One must reach Yggdrasil with all haste to summon the Ancestors to unite in battle against the armies of evil.”
Sensing that the danger had passed, if only for the moment, Vincent approached her. Speaking with as much calm as he could muster, he said, “But you said the Ancestors came to you in a dream and told you all of this was about to happen months ago. That’s why you came looking for Valenthor in the first place, right?”
When she didn’t reply, he added, “What I can’t figure out is why you were so surprised when that giant confirmed that it’s all going down in a couple of days. What has changed?”
Destiny looked away, but not before he saw the glint of a teardrop on her cheek. “The prophecy also says a sacrifice will be demanded…a noble soul that will open the Heart of Yggdrasil and call upon the Ancestors to defend the realms. From a very young age, I was taught the mysteries of the Ancestors, and during my earliest lessons, I learned that the Ancestors’ advent will take place only after the royal priestess willingly gives her life for her people.”
She took a steadying breath. “I am the eldest daughter of my people’s sovereign ruler.”
It took him a moment to connect the statement to her earlier explanation.
“Wait, you’re a princess?”
She nodded.
Chalk up another point for the Master of All Things Fantasy.
Destiny reached for his hand. Her shimmering eyes bore into his as she said, “You see, Valenthor, I am the Chosen One, not you.”
Vincent opened his mouth, but no words came out.
She continued, “When the Ancestors told me that the time of the prophecy was upon us, I was terrified of what I must do. And so they revealed to me another way to fulfill the prophecy. They showed me your daughter, and then they also showed me a worthy substitute for the required sacrifice. You, Valenthor.”
Vincent tried to pull away from her, but her small, delicate hands held his with a strength that surprised him.
“You brought me along so that I could die in your place?”
Her betrayal hurt more than Vincent would have expected, considering she was a fictional character. He wanted to push her away from him, but something deep inside insisted on patience and compassion. At last, he asked, “So what made you change your mind?”
Destiny’s hand trembled. “I am ashamed of my cowardice and my deception. I beg your forgiveness, though I deserve it not.” She stifled a sob and said, “The reason I cannot allow you to die in my place is because…because I have come to love you, Valenthor.”
Again, Vincent was at a loss for words. Her big green eyes contained so much raw emotion that all of his anger and frustration disappeared. With her honey-blond hair blowing in the wind and her breasts heaving with each rapid breath, Vincent was awestruck by her beauty—no, her perfection. The sudden urge to kiss the elf nearly overwhelmed him.
Destiny drew clos
er, taking his other hand in her own. His desire grew stronger, intolerable.
Why fight it? The Dream always gets its way…
Vincent pulled the elf to him, crushing her slender body against his own. He kissed her deeply. Her lips tasted like an exotic fruit, sweet and enticing. Not even the snowflake-laden gales could cool his burning skin.
When the kiss ended, Destiny whispered, “I am so afraid.”
“Don’t worry,” Vincent replied. “This story is bound to have a happy ending.”
He gently guided the elf down to the flat-topped rock, cupping her head with his calloused hand. The fine golden strands of hair tickled his cheek as he devoured her neck and pulled open her shirt. She let out a moan and dug her fingernails into his back.
Then their lips met once more. Daniel, dream drifters, and the end of the world couldn’t have been farther from his mind.
***
The world whizzed by at a nauseating speed, and when Vincent’s vision could focus again, he was back on his feet, standing beside a fully-clothed Destiny, who was staring at something with an expression of absolute horror. The sun had returned. So had the knights.
Vincent followed Destiny’s gaze to a humongous castle that resembled an oversized church. Its tall towers were dwarfed only by the ring of jagged mountains that fenced in the valley from all sides. But his eyes didn’t linger on the architectural marvel because at that moment, thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of Jötunn were throwing themselves at the castle’s defenders, which could only be the elves.
One minute I’m about to make love to a gorgeous elf princess and the next I’m facing a war to end all wars? When I figure out who is in control of all this, I’m going to punch them square in the face.
In the distance, giants fell by the score, but Vincent knew it was only a matter of time before they breached the castle. There were simply too many of them.
“Alas, Yggdrasil,” Destiny moaned.
Yggdrasil? This castle is the elves’ holiest of temples? There’s no way we’re going to be able to fight our way through the Jötunn army to get inside.
“We’re too late,” said Vincent numbly.
“Nay,” Sir Angus said with a broad smile and a wild gleam in his eyes. “Let us lend our swords to a battle that will beget legends untold. Anon, we die with honor!”
“If this is the Final Battle, who is going to be around to talk about it afterward?” Vincent wondered aloud.
Sir Angus raised his sword, and his men followed suit. “Come, Valenthor, we shall bathe the earth with the blood of our foes!”
Vincent looked from the fanatical knight to the Jötunn hoard. Arrows rained down from the castle walls. The giants retaliated with catapults that launched huge balls of fire. Battle cries and the screams of agony echoed off of the mountains.
It would take a certified miracle to make it in and out of that mess alive, and I’m not even the Chosen One. But if Destiny is the Chosen One, maybe I’m supposed to protect her while she makes a run for it.
Maybe I’m here to die after all.
“Wait!” cried Destiny. “There is another way.”
Oh, thank God!
“I know of a hidden route that will take us to the Heart of Yggdrasil,” she said.
Sir Angus stabbed the blade of his sword into the ground. “Bah! I came here to slay giants, not cower behind the gates of yon elfish stronghold. Choose thy course wisely, Valenthor. The gods demand atonement for our sins. Let not this witch lure thee away from redemption’s path.”
Vincent let the handle of the hammer slide from his grip and crossed his arms. “Not gonna happen, pal. But do enjoy your suicide run.”
Angus wrenched his sword from the ground. Vincent braced himself for an attack, but it never came. “Damn thee, Valenthor,” the knight snarled. “Damn thee to hell!”
As the three knights turned and ran toward the battlefield, Vincent almost pitied Sir Angus. Sure, he was a pain in the ass, but it wasn’t Sir Angus’s fault he was a two-dimensional cliché. He was only doing what he thought was right.
Maybe it’s impossible to change who we really are.
“We must hurry, Valenthor.”
Destiny offered him her hand, and he took it unquestioningly. With his other hand, he clenched the hammer. The gears were turning. The game pieces were in place. One way or another, the ordeal was coming to a close.
As he followed Destiny along an invisible path among the evergreens, Vincent knew that if he tried, he could remember everything that had happened since he and Destiny had started fooling around, but he didn’t bother to harness the pseudo memories. In the end, it didn’t matter if Valenthor and Destiny went all the way or how they came to join up with the knights again.
What came next was important. Every fast-forward brought him closer to Daniel.
And this time I’ll be ready.
Destiny stopped in front of an enormous tree with a trunk that must have been five yards thick. Its branches stretched twice as tall as the neighboring trees. Vincent wondered why he hadn’t noticed it earlier. Was it another of the Ancestors’ enchantments or a convenient shortcut courtesy of The Dream?
The elf lay a hand on the knotty bark and spoke a handful of words that raised the hairs on Vincent’s neck. A faint green glimmer flowed between the deep furrows of the bark and formed the unmistakable shape of a doorway.
“A secret passageway,” Vincent laughed. “Who’d of thunk it?”
Destiny stepped through the opening, and Vincent hurried after her before the bark could reappear and separate them. While Valenthor was duty-bound to protect the elf, Vincent had a more practical reason for staying close by her side. If he lost her, he would have to figure out what to do all on his own.
The interior of the passage smelled like Christmas and was dimly lit by a dull yellow glow. As they walked, logic told him there should have been a spiraling staircase or something, that it was impossible for them to walk yard after yard inside a tree that, while gigantic, was nowhere near big enough to account for their unerringly straight course.
He told logic to shut up.
After walking maybe a mile through the wood-lined tunnel, Vincent noticed a brighter light up ahead. The air grew warmer the closer they came to it. Then the path ended, and Vincent found himself inside a space about the size of his kitchen and living room combined. The walls were carved with a million tiny symbols that reflected the light from a golden ball that levitated in the center of the room.
The sphere’s light was inexplicably comforting and filled him with a deep contentment he couldn’t comprehend. The feeling was both simple and complicated, like when he was a kid and found joy in just lying in the warm grass under the bright summer sun. Vincent couldn’t take his eyes off of the thing.
Dazedly, he approached the orb, reaching out for the source of the awesome light.
“No!” Destiny’s cry echoed off the walls. “I alone must touch the Heart of Yggdrasil and add my inner light to the holy reservoir!”
Vincent snatched his hand back, as though pulling them from the gaping jaws of a wild beast. He reluctantly looked away from the sphere and asked, “You’re really going to touch it? Like Sir Angus, you’re going to throw your life away?”
“I have no choice,” she whispered.
Vincent said the words before he quite realized what they meant. “Unless I really am the Chosen One and the reason the Ancestors brought you to me was because you are supposed to survive this, not me.”
Scoff.
Vincent and Destiny spun around to confront Locke, but without the mask to conceal the fair skin, intense blue eyes, and tangle of red curls, there was no Locke—only Daniel. His brother. His nemesis.
“So the Heart of Yggdrasil isn’t even inside the temple,” Daniel said. “Tricky, tricky.”
“You followed us!” Destiny gasped.
“Technically, you followed me to Yggdrasil’s hidden vale, but once you got here, I knew you’d lead me right to the s
ecret talisman.” Daniel tapped the bottom of his staff against the smooth wooden floor as he walked up to them. Vincent took a step in front of Destiny, holding the hammer across his chest.
“But don’t let me interrupt.” Daniel flashed a crooked smile. “I think you were arguing about which one of you gets to die first.”
Chapter 33
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A thick fog filled the small chamber. Destiny and Daniel vanished. A second later, even the brilliant Heart of Yggdrasil faded from sight. Completely blind, Vincent focused on the sound of Daniel’s staff rapping against the smooth wooden floor.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Vincent tried to shout his brother’s name, but no sound came out. He was paralyzed. He was alone.
This isn’t one of Daniel’s tricks. I’m waking up!
“No!” Vincent yelled, a pillow muffling his voice. He rolled onto his back, blinking in confusion at the unfamiliar room. Then the memory of his ride with Leah from the mental health center to the hotel slammed into his brain like a runaway semitrailer. A thin line of sunlight framed the large, curtain-covered windows beside the bed.
How long have I been sleeping?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
So much for the do-not-disturb sign.
“Vincent, are you in there?” The voice on the other side of the door was unmistakably Leah’s.
Swearing under his breath, he dragged himself out of bed and scooped up his only clothes from the floor. He performed a ridiculous jig across the room while pulling on the pants, and he managed to worm his head and one arm through the appropriate shirt holes before yanking open the door.
“Oh,” a visibly surprised Leah Chedid said. “Are you just now waking up?”
Vincent wrestled with the uncooperative shirt until he got his other arm in place. “Yeah. What time is it, anyway? Did I miss breakfast?”
“And lunch too,” Jerry said, following Leah into the hotel room. He dropped a grease-soaked brown bag onto the small table by the TV.
The pungent smell of fast food filed the room. Vincent’s stomach rumbled.
If Souls Can Sleep Page 26
