Destined (Desolation #3)

by Ali Cross

  “We no longer serve the grand mistress, but the young mistress only,” the Hound intoned. He dropped his head to his chest for a moment before looking up again. “I mean, I serve the young mistress.”

  I reached out and placed my hand on the Hound’s arm, giving a small squeeze. “I am sorry for your loss, friend.”

  The Hound tipped his head forward in gratitude.

  “It seems you had little need for my translation services after all,” li’Morl said from behind me, his voice as cool as glass.

  “Yet, it seems your presence is still fortuitous.” Odin’s deep voice rumbled along the Bifrost. “Come. Let us return to Asgard. It would seem we have much to discuss regarding Helena and the Svarts.” Stepping past me, Odin addressed the Hound.

  “Horonius.”

  The Hound considered Odin for the space of two heartbeats. “You are the Great Gardian Odin?”

  “I am.” Odin bowed his head in acknowledgement. He held his arm out, beckoning to Horonius. “Will you return with us and share what information you have on Helena and Desolation?”

  “We—I—serve the young mistress. Yes, I will accompany you.”

  Odin moved away then, and Horonius fell into step beside him. We returned to Asgard, a journey of mere moments that felt like an eternity to me as every footfall echoed the beating of my heart. Every beat, every step rang with my hope. Rang with the name of my beloved.

  De-si.

  De-si.

  De-si.

  In Odin’s palace, we joined him around a table while white-clad children served us fruit and drink, meats and cheeses. The children giggled when Heimdall glared at them as they tried to dodge him and avoid getting poked by one of his large fingers. He didn’t exactly fit at Odin’s table, though the enormous god had been a guest often enough to know how to accommodate himself—and how to tease the children.

  Horonius refused to sit or take nourishment, electing instead to stand behind my right shoulder. I had to angle my body in order to keep him in my line of sight. Since our encounter on the Bridge he had refused to meet my gaze—or anyone else’s it seemed. li’Morl sat across the table, an amused smile on his face and a glint in his eye. When Odin asked Horonius to tell the story of how he came to be standing in Asgard, li’Morl leaned forward, his elbows propped on the table.

  I schooled my features, striving to hide the turmoil in my mind and heart. My thoughts swirled through memories of Helheimer, of the soul eaters, of Knowles, of Loki’s throne room and his cronies. Memories of Desi, both terrible and glorious. Memories of when she glowed with golden light, memories of when she was mine.

  Memories of the black-as-night tendrils that snaked across her skin and the look of death in her eyes when she was under the influence of Loki’s dark poison.

  Memories of that terrible storm that swept across the battlefield on the day she cut Solomon’s Ring from her finger and broke Loki’s hold on her.

  Memories of the last moment I saw her.

  And now Horonius stood at my shoulder, betraying Helena’s confidences, claiming allegiance to my love, offering me the first real hope I’d had in so long that Desi might yet live. That she still might come back to me.

  For the hundredth time I pushed such speculations aside so I could concentrate on the conversation unfolding around me. It seemed Helena had been rousing the spirits of the inhabitants of both Muspelheim and Svartalheim, making wild promises that mostly involved gifting them each Midgard—a world they could not both possess and was certainly not hers to give.

  “You say she coaxed the Svart king from his castle? I’ve not heard of him stepping beyond its walls since the attacks on his life several eons ago.” Odin leaned forward, his hands clasped before him.

  “Yes, my Lord. Our mistress lured him with a contest he could not refuse—a battle of wit and strength. My brother and I are known throughout all the worlds for our bravery and single-mindedness in protecting our grand mistress.”

  “I have heard the claims, yes.”

  “The grand mistress chained me to a platform far above the arena—though had she only commanded me, I would not have strayed from my perch. Perhaps she saw a weakness in me even I did not know existed.” He allowed his eyes to rise from the tabletop but stopped short of reaching Odin’s face.

  “I am sure she knew you would have rushed to your brother’s aide, had you been able,” Odin said in a soothing tone.

  Horonius nodded once before continuing his story. “The grand mistress made a procession to the center of the arena, Helonius at her shoulder. She wore little clothing and made a great show of demonstrating for the eager crowd that she was unarmed.”

  “And in the arena—there is no magic. Is that correct?” li’Morl asked.

  “Yes, Lord.”

  li’Morl’s eyes twinkled. “Fascinating.”

  “Helonius is—was—a brave and fierce warrior. I felt certain he would prevail against any foe. But then . . . then the king of the Svarts ordered the great gate be opened. At first there was no sound, even the raucous crowd had quieted. For several long heartbeats I was sure the whole thing would end with laughter and perhaps a few drinks around the old king’s table. Not once did I consider that I had embraced my brother for the last time.”

  Horonius bowed his head and took several deep breaths.

  “Take your time, my son,” Odin said.

  A child appeared at Horonius’ elbow and held forward a tray on which sat a cup, its sides glistening with condensation. The Hound at last reached out and drew the cup to his lips, draining its contents in three gulps.

  “My thanks,” he said quietly, placing the empty cup on the child’s tray. She smiled at him before dashing away.

  “When finally a trumpeting sound was heard from the shadows of the open cage, the crowd erupted with shouts of delight. My brother stood; unmoving, unconcerned surely, while I craned my neck to see what creature so excited the crowd. I felt certain the grand mistress would not willingly put herself in harm’s way, so while I still felt unsure of what was going on I was unwilling to think that things could go badly.

  “And of course Helonius was trained—created—to put the grand mistress’s life before his own, no matter the cost, no matter the circumstances.

  “When his weapons materialized in his hands and I saw his body stiffen, I strained to see what he saw—a creature unlike any I had ever laid eyes on—or dared even imagine.” Though his skin had taken on a greenish shade of gray and his hands flexed at his side, Horonius continued. “A zhaghmar appeared, lumbering from the shadows, raising its mammoth trunk, longer than a man, into the air and trumpeting with ear-splitting cries.

  “At first it moved slowly, its black eyes rolling to take in the crowd, even to take note of me, lashed to the column above it. It trumpeted again and I wished I could cover my ears with my hands as Helonius did.

  “And then the zhaghmar saw the grand mistress. He sniffed the air, pawed with his great clawed feet in the dirt. The mistress laughed and said, ‘Come to me, darling. Let’s take a look at you.’

  “But the creature did not come gently as her tone might have invited. It shook its head, its wild black mane quivering in the strange silver-light of the Svartalheim sun. Helonius stepped in front of our mistress and crossed his weapons, the ankh and scepter, in front of his chest as he had been taught to do when we were boys in Pharaoh’s court. But . . .” His words caught in his throat and it took several coughs to clear it so he could continue.

  “Helonius fought valiantly, but the top of his head only reached the creature’s belly. Enraged by the crowd’s taunting and the nearness of our mistress—a tempting treat for him, I’m sure—the zhaghmar made quick work of my brother. It wasn’t long before the creature’s scales gleamed with his blood.”

  I glanced at the Hound, but saw his features set and his mouth in a hard line, revealing nothing of the turmoil that must have raged within.

  “The creature wrapped its trunk around the mistresses’
neck, but stopped when its master called an end. The king stood then, and clapped. Clapped! And my mistress joined him in his laughter. She laughed while my brother lay at her feet, his blood staining the dirt beneath her sandals.” Finally his voice revealed his venom and his eyes blazed with fury—he seemed powerless to stop now, the words the only thing holding a flood of emotion at bay.

  “He died for her, believing her to be in mortal danger. Though truly, even if he had known it was not but a game, he would have served her however she asked. But in that moment—” He looked upward, allowing himself to peer directly into Odin’s eyes for the first time. “Lord, forgive me, but in that moment I vowed I would never again serve her. She did not even stoop to straighten his shendyt or grant him any form of dignity. She stepped on his back as she left the arena to resume her negotiations with the king.

  “I hung on the column through the day, while the crowd screamed in morbid delight as the zhaghmar devoured Helonius, and watched my brother’s blood dry in the dirt. I was still fettered when the crowd disbursed at last and the zhaghmar was coaxed back into its cave.

  “It was not until the next day that I was cut from the ropes and thrown into the chariot that carried my mistress to the Door Between Worlds. She said naught but that I should stand and take my place by her side. That she had need of my services. And I . . . I did as she commanded.”

  “Then how is it you’re here?” I asked. My voice sounded foreign, out of place in the room that seemed to have been filled, shaped and molded by the Hound’s tragic tale.

  “It wasn’t until I saw her beginning the same negotiations with the king of Muspelheim, this time sacrificing a full half of her entourage—the strange rock-like creatures, the genii—to feed the Giants at the king’s table, that I understood she cared nothing for us. We were her children; we had served her for so long, doing exactly as she commanded for longer than I dare remember. Yet she is willing to sacrifice every one of us for the pleasure of those whose allegiance she wishes to secure.”

  The Hound’s voice hitched and he choked on the anger that tangled with the sorrow in his throat. His hands curled into fists until he had regained some of his composure.

  “When she retired to her chamber that night, I escaped the palace and found the Door. I hoped it would only be a matter of time before the great god, Lord Heimdall, would find me waiting and I hoped he would deign to speak with me. This is all I dared hoped for, and yet you grant me so much more,” he added with a gesture to those sitting at the table.

  “I am grateful for the chance to tell my story, if only to do my brother the honor of remembering him in such dignified company.”

  Though he ended formally, Horonius fidgeted with the pleats of his shendyt and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

  “Thank you, son,” Odin said kindly. “Now, won’t you please sit down?”

  Horonius hesitated, looking at each of our faces to gauge, I guessed, whether this truly was allowed. When his eyes met mine, I tried to smile, tried to show him that I was sorry for his loss, but when he looked away I was unsure of what had passed between us. The Hound took a seat to the left of me, moving his chair so he would not accidentally brush his body against my own. I scooted away as well, wishing to accommodate him, to give him the space he seemed to need.

  “Fascinating,” li’Morl said. He steepled his fingers against his lips and regarded Horonius as if Odin had just announced him to be the final course of our meal. I closed my eyes against the rising tide of hatred for the light elf. How could he be so . . . so cold and detached in the face of such agony? “I believe I shall retire to my chamber,” he said abruptly. After dabbing the corners of his lips with his napkin, he laid it on top of his plate and stood.

  “If you will excuse me, Lord Odin, everyone.” He inclined his head in a sort of bow before turning smartly on his heel and striding away.

  In the absence of the Alfahr, I felt a weight lift from my heart. Being in his presence reminded me of my time in Helheimer—a time I was most anxious to forget. But there I had experienced a similar sense of oppression and euphoria. A desire to be and do things that were completely unlike me when I was in my right mind. li’Morl was far too beautiful, his presence far too overwhelming, to ever feel like I was my own man while he was near. Judging by the looks on my companions’ faces, I was in good company. Fahria even exhaled loudly, then had to apologize when she realized what she had done.

  Odin smiled indulgently at her and I wondered how the Alfahr affected him. He drank from his goblet, and with a wave of his hand he brought our attention back to him. My body tensed, my anticipation rising as I thought, Now, we will talk of how to rescue Desi.

  “Tell me, Horonius. What is your mistress’s purpose in allying with the kings of the other worlds?” By the tone of his voice, the steel in his eyes, I detected my king already had a motive in mind, but my impatience gripped me with a fist of steel. I could not bear these games, these pleasantries for much longer. I shifted in my chair, trying to focus on the Hound sitting next to me while my ears rushed with all the questions that weren’t being asked. Tell me how to reach her. Tell me how to rescue her.

  “My understanding is limited, great king,” Horonius said carefully. He examined his hands, his long, lean fingers, as he spread and then curled them on the tabletop in a rhythmic fashion. “I believe she is trying to rally an army—a host with which to come against Helheimer.”

  “An army—to raise against my son? To oust Loki from his throne—excuse me, from her throne?” Odin asked.

  Horonius met Odin’s stare, his face and lips soft. The Hound seemed to be without guile, an innocent—a far cry from the fierce warrior-protector I’d thought him to be. But even my compassion for him was overshadowed by my need to find Desi.

  “My mistress once ruled Helheimer as queen. She was already lord of that place when she spirited my brother and me from our home. At first we were adornments only, pets she took pleasure in shaping into the creatures she dreamed us to be.” He glanced at Fahria, for what purpose I did not know. “And we were glad of it—our mistress was beautiful, kind, and with her we were like sons of the court.

  “In those days Helheimer wasn’t the dark and evil place it is now. In those days, our lady delighted in a court of pleasure.”

  Odin sighed. “Yes, I am aware of the type of world Helena created for herself. She always claimed she would create a world where everyone would be welcome, everyone would be loved, and everyone would be happy. I’m afraid, however, that she had much the same idea of happiness as my own son did—a commonality, I believe, that led to her dethronement.”

  I shifted slightly in my chair. Fahria caught my eye with a stern expression and looked down at my hands with meaning. My hands were tied into tight fists, the cloth napkin starting to tear in their grip. I dropped my hands to my lap and tried to steady my breathing, to attain a state of peace and patience. But while I could muster peace, for the most part, I’d never been much of a patient man. Right now, it was all I could do not to jump up and shout for the Hound to tell me how to find Desi.

  Horonius nodded. “Yes, my king, you are exactly right. Though I am not educated and wouldn’t dare speak to the righteous purposes of the gods, it did seem to me as though Loki and Helena shared a great many things in common before he rose up and imprisoned her—and my brother and I were tasked with waiting, then guarding, the young mistress when she arrived. My queen seemed to anticipate it all—though it did little to save her.”

  “And now that she is free, she wishes to reclaim her throne? Her world?” Fahria asked.

  “Yes, lady.”

  “Are the Svartalheim and Muspelheim kings with her?” Odin asked, a hard edge to his voice.

  “I believe so, my lord.”

  Odin looked at Heimdall and for a moment the two of them considered one another without speaking. I couldn’t bear looking at them, listening to their intelligence-gathering when they were not revealing the only thing that mattered to
me. Instead, I stared at the enormous tapestry on the wall across from me.

  The weaving depicted the Vanir gods, Freyja, Freyr, Heimdall and others, reaching with outstretched arms. Floating in the starless sky all around their reaching hands were the eight Æsir gods, Odin and Helena among them.

  Heimdall startled me from my reverie when he scraped his enormous chair back and rose to his feet. He looked first to Fahria, and then to me. “I have seen the peoples of Svartalheim and Muspelheim rallying. They have gathered at the Doors, preparing to travel. It is not our concern, should their route take them directly to Helheimer—though I do not hold much faith that their warmongering will stop there.”

  “Fahria.” Odin placed his hand on hers. “We will not follow them to Helheimer, but we must protect Midgard at all costs. Be ready. The Valkyrie may need to go to battle at a moment’s notice. If the Giants turn their gaze on Midgard, it could be the beginning of Ragnarok—my children are not ready for such a thing. And so we must be.”

  Fahria slipped from her chair and knelt on one knee. She bowed her head as she placed her fist over her heart. “We will be ready, great king.”

  She stood and whirled away, the polished metal strips on her kilt clinking.

  “Wait,” I said, rising quickly to my feet. Fahria stopped and angled toward me, though I didn’t necessarily mean she should stop. Odin and Heimdall looked at me and I felt grateful for their friendship—my speaking out of turn would not be tolerated by most gods, but my question couldn’t wait any longer. I cleared my throat.

  “Apologies, my lords.” I swallowed and attempted to choose my words carefully. “But . . . what of . . .” My words failed me. I dropped my head to my chest and cursed myself for loving someone as special as Desolation. I knew from the start her path would not be an easy one, that she had a journey far more perilous than I could guess. But from that first day, I had promised I would follow her anywhere. That I would always find her. If there was a chance she yet lived, I must find her.