The Goddess Embraced (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 3)

by Deborah Davitt

  They didn’t have long to wait. Hades had been one of the more powerful Hellene gods. Even humans of other faiths tended to refer to the idea of a place of punishment after death by his name. And Pluto had been a very powerful twin for Hades. Pluto could feel himself diminished, in part, by Hades’ death . . . but he felt lighter, somehow. Freer.

  Until the first disturbance on the horizon. They come from all directions, Minerva warned, lifting her spear and the Aegis. Small ones, at the moment. They move quickly. Seven of them, as a pack. Most should not be troublesome to handle.

  Thor shook his head. I sense four more, larger ones. The smaller ones hang back now. The smallest godlings were chary of larger ones, who would devour them as freely as any other source of energy.

  Should we go to them? Sekhmet was clearly chafing to engage the enemy, her teeth curving and white in her blood-covered face.

  Stand together! Thor said, urgently. They will pull us apart, and surround anyone who stands alone.

  The first wave hit them, then, a sea of energy and hungry vortices and tendrils. Another behind us! Juno called, urgently. Coming over the Alps. It must have been in Hellas!

  At first, Pluto couldn’t even see the creature. It pulled light in on itself in the same way his sword had, and it seemed somehow . . . smaller than all the others. But light distorted around it, slowing as it pulled into the vortex at its heart. It is one of the original fifteen. One of the eldest godlings, Amaterasu called to the others. It is far more powerful than the rest!

  Pluto! Thor called. With me! I will drag it down to you and Juno! The thunder-god rose into the air to challenge the powerful entity, while Venus and Amaterasu confronted one of the larger creatures to the west, as Mercury and Minerva did the same to the east. Vesta, looking around frantically, moved to assist Sekhmet with one of the smaller creatures. The leonine war-goddess hardly seemed to need her help, however, while Baldur held off a swarm of smaller godlings that circled around to the east, angling to attack them from the seemingly undefended flank.

  Pluto could see everything that transpired around him, with the crystalline, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree panoramic sense that was true Veil sight. Anyone other than a native of the Veil would have been overwhelmed by the fact that in this battle, everything happened at once.

  Quetzalcoatl and Sekhmet slew their first minor godlings, tearing them asunder like impatient diners splitting cooked quail with their fingers. Less than an eyeblink later, the godlings’ power poured out, some absorbed by the very gods who’d slain them, but the rest lapped up by the other hungry godlings around them.

  The snow underfoot had already been melted by Hades’ death; a glacier perched high on the mountain overhead shuddered, and fell now, collapsing into a brown torrent of freezing cold mud. It hit all of them like a wave, but they were prepared for it, demanifesting until it had passed. Pluto himself drew power from the earth, and gloried in it, though his body’s legs were now buried to the knees in clinging clay.

  Rings of the dying godlings’ power coruscated out, striking the two larger godlings behind him, even as Amaterasu, in mid-air, lashed out with a blade forged of plasma, gravity, and will, destabilizing one of them. To her right, Minerva caught the tendrils of another godling on the Aegis, dropping under her shield to stab her spear home . . . no mere physical blade, this. Venus gripped the godling that Amaterasu fought, trying to keep it distracted, while Mercury ran circles around the one that Minerva battled, striking it from a dozen angles . . . but none was a telling blow.

  Two smaller godlings moved in on Baldur at once, as two more advanced on Sekhmet; another caught Mercury as the fleet-footed god swung around his target again, pulling him into its toils. And still more of the larger creatures moved in, warily, skirting around to try to attack from the south, hovering over the granite faces of the mountains.

  All this inside of seconds, and they weren’t even the major threat. Thor ascended, and the vortex of power around the oldest godling caught him. Pluto could hear the thunder-god’s growl of pure effort, as he swung his hammer in a circle slowly. Trying to build up the speed, the momentum, that would allow him to throw Mjolnir, and himself with it, to the ground. Heavy, Thor admitted, his voice strained. Not just energy. Gravity. It has . . . learned to manipulate such . . . .

  And then Thor hurled himself to the ground, dragging his opponent with him. Pluto could see wisps of Thor’s essence being pulled from him. Dragged from his core and into the vortex that was the mad one. Pluto leaped forward, hauling at the mad one with all his strength, and Juno moved with him. Everything he wrenched apart, she collected. Sequestered. Refused to yield back to the mad one. Gravity fluctuated. Mud and earth trembled. Broken tree branches, and fallen logs nearby began to fly towards them. Flickers of power, attention, to parry them away, to where they collapsed in on the godling, only to be spat out again with disdain. Everything that was a distraction was a danger in itself. One wrong move, and they would be pulled into the powerful godling’s hungry maw.

  Chaos. Mercury spun and destroyed the godling that had caught him off-guard. Shockwave. Minerva, hissing in Pluto’s mind, landed another hit on her and Mercury’s first opponent, though now energy bled from her, and the godling eagerly fed from the energy of the creature Mercury had just slain. Baldur, already in combat with several smaller entities, managed to shatter one of them, just as a larger one bowled him over, the creature’s snarl of hatred loud in all their minds. Baldur! Thor shouted. Hold fast! I will aid you! And yet, Thor’s grip on the creature was probably all that held it close to the ground. Where Pluto and Juno could strike it, fight it.

  Another eyeblink. Venus, caught off-guard by the explosion behind her, tumbled forwards into the grip of the creature that Amaterasu and she were fighting; the sun-goddess cried out and lashed the godling with a solar flare, while Venus opened herself to it. Tried to engulf it, swallow it whole. Not yet! Pluto called, harried. It is not yet weak enough! And you are no devourer!

  You would be surprised what I can hold inside of me, Venus snapped, and Mercury laughed, a mad, fey cackle.

  Sekhmet sundered one of the small godlings surrounding her and Vesta with strikes from her twin blades. This sent out yet another shockwave, which Pluto couldn’t contain. He was too busy fighting the mad one that Thor was wrestling.

  Eyeblink. A mad one, taking advantage of Sekhmet’s distraction, wrenched at Vesta, as a second, smaller godling, destabilized by its companion’s death, lurched forward as well, clawing at her, trying to draw on her energy to stabilize itself. Pluto growled, and tried to reach out a hand, to throw some of his essence, in the form of worms, right at the larger of the two, to protect Vesta—and as he did so, the large godling that he was fighting struck, spearing Juno through the chest with a tendril that looked like the descending funnel of a cyclone. Juno screamed, and Pluto aborted the gesture, forming his sword of entropy instead, slicing off the creature’s energy connection. The godling rushed him now, knocking him to the ground and trying to force its way into his core. Trying to siphon his power into itself.

  I need assistance! Baldur shouted. Quetzalcoatl raced to Baldur’s side, taking his feathered serpent form and crashing directly into the largest mad god that the Valhallan faced, pulling it away from the rest of them as he fought with every weapon at his disposal. Any trees still standing splintered and toppled at the impact of Quetzalcoatl’s massive body. Baldur regained his feet . . . and Minerva finally brought down the creature that she and Mercury had been fighting.

  The blast rippled out for miles, and at the edges of Pluto’s perception, he could sense more mad ones coming. Drawn by the conflict, by the displays of raw energy. A new wave comes, before we are done with the first! he called, struggling, still pinned by the oldest creature, as Thor brought lightning down on it. Pluto flinched; his manifested form was sensitive to lightning, and every shock of it that went through the godling, threatened him, as well. There is trust, and there is trust.

  He hurled
that thought at Thor, who bared his teeth and retorted, My brother Njord endured worse at my hands, and Tyr’s! before bringing lightning down again. Juno linked her essence with Pluto, pulling him free . . . and Pluto retaliated on the elder godling, tearing at it with raw entropy.

  Another eyeblink, and Vesta screamed as the godling she fought latched onto her, and began to devour her from the inside. Sekhmet launched herself at the beast, as Minerva did, as well . . . . and then the second wave of godlings hit them.

  Veil sight captured it all, in excruciating detail. But even a god couldn’t be everywhere at once. Not in this scrum.

  Flicker. Another wall of mud and ice, logs and broken boulders, coursing down the mountain, all the gods demanifesting and then materializing once more.

  Blink. Amaterasu sundering the one that she and Venus had fought.

  Flicker. Another shockwave, and the major godling that Pluto was fighting absorbed it. Swallowed it. Stop feeding it! Juno snapped.

  No choice! Thor hurled back at her. Hold the line!

  Blink. Holding the massive godling down with raw will, feeling it try to consume him, as he consumed it.

  Flicker. Minerva and Mercury falling back to aid Vesta and Sekhmet . . . but now, their entire line was surrounded. Quetzalcoatl rent another of the larger godlings, and half a dozen of the smaller ones were ripped in half by the explosion, their energies rippling through the ley-lines, the fault-lines. Blink. Vesta screaming in agony, overwhelmed. Too much power, and she was already wounded. Sekhmet, back-to-back with Minerva now, trying to hold the mad ones at bay. Mercury lifting Vesta into his arms, getting her away from the mad ones. Flick. Aid them! Pluto hurled the thought at Baldur, Amaterasu, Quetzalcoatl, and Venus. Red blood trickled from Venus’ nose, mouth, and eyes, streaking her lovely face . . . . Blink. Tendrils boring into his core once more, wrapping around Juno and Thor as they struggled to hold the oldest godling away from the others. Trying to give the others time. Time, bane and boon, curse and cure . . . .

  Flicker. Mercury, helping Vesta out of the scrum, carrying her to the shelter of one of the cliffs. Go to the Veil. Go. Go now.

  I can’t. Not enough energy left. Vesta’s voice was anguished.

  Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare. No more deaths. We can’t afford it. And we can’t lose you.

  I can’t . . . hold myself . . . together . . . . Her gentle face spasmed in pain.

  I’ll take you to Olympus, just hold on—

  No matter how winged the feet, everything in this universe needed time to occur. Mercury ripped open the Veil and tried to take Vesta through, to where she could not die, and as he did so, one last tendril from a godling crossed the intervening space, and caught her through the heart.

  The goddess of the hearth died in his arms.

  White radiance, all over again, on the same scarred earth where Hades had just died. Where a dozen small godlings and four of the larger ones had already loosed their energies. The mountains groaned. The ley-lines flooded. Pluto cried out in pain, feeling his sister die, and used her gift of energy to pull the massive godling down to himself. Opened himself, though he knew it was too soon. The damnable creature wasn’t injured enough yet, but it was distracted.

  Blink. Mercury raced back into the fight, tears, unaccustomed and unaccountable, streaming down his face. And the distant snarls of more godlings, being drawn by the increasing power being loosed in this time and in this place. Flicker. Minerva spinning to catch a tendril meant for Sekhmet on the Aegis . . . and then another one, also meant for the Egyptian war-goddess, right through Minerva’s torso. The look of pale astonishment on her face, her lips forming a perfect O of surprise as she fought to stay upright. Blink. Quetzalcoatl a blur of scales and feathers as he moved in, taking that godling off of goddesses. Flicker. Amaterasu shoving Venus through a portal into the Veil, tripping the wounded goddess through the gate with a deft weave of her own power, before taking to the air once more. Blink. Sekhmet snarling as she tried to shear away the tendrils that impaled Minerva, while Baldur tried to drag the stricken goddess away, taking hits to his own arms and torso as he did so. Flicker. Thor’s lightning, once again slamming through the mad one Pluto held, transferring into his own body, livid agony . . . . bli—

  White light. So much energy, it was like watching, Sekhmet and Amaterasu kill Jupiter all over again. This time, however, Pluto couldn’t retreat. Couldn’t protect himself from it, save to brace and absorb as much as he could, to try to protect the others. He’d already sheared off large portions of the creature’s essence, and he could feel its urge to devour rise inside of him. Could feel it try to crawl down along his bond to Juno. Pluto closed himself down, dropping to his knees, realizing, dimly, that the mud underfoot had turned to molten rock.

  Veil senses, overwhelmed for an instant, returned. Followed the path of the energy as it sheared through the Alps, bringing down powerful avalanches and mudslides. Radiated northwest, past Lutetia, and far enough west to hit encampments of Britannians who’d evacuated across the Fimbul-ice of the North Sea. Rippled southwest, edging into Iberia. Mostly ruined lands, but it also passed over the mountains, to Mediolanum, and then further south, awakening Vesuvius again on its way to the very edges of Rome itself, with all its destructive, warping power . . . .

  —nk. Pluto’s dazed awareness snapped back into focus, as Minerva, wounded, one arm draped over Baldur’s shoulders, pointed silently at the sky. Pluto looked up, and understood why.

  A hundred smaller godlings, vortexes of power, now hovered in the air. As dazed as the gods themselves were, but recovering as rapidly. A handful of the smaller ones that they had already been fighting had been caught and sundered by the shockwave, now appearing to Veil senses like notes of energy written on a score of air.

  All of them were beaten and weary, and Minerva herself was leaking energy and blood in equal measures. The largest one split, Thor assessed. At least each of these hundred should be weaker. Still, there was no lust for battle in his tone.

  And more come, Quetzalcoatl added.

  Pluto, more than any of them, was a creature of the earth. He was chthonic. And he could feel . . . resonances under the superheated crust at his feet. Dissonances. Something else is wrong, he warned. Something in the earth . . . it warps. It . . . shifts.

  They’d chosen this place as being equidistant between two ley-lines, both solid, stable ones. With so much energy loosed, however, it was hardly a wonder that the lines were fraying. And now, as the swarm of mad ones attacked them like maddened hornets . . . both lines split.

  Searing wrongness spread through him, and Pluto reached into the earth, trying to hold it together by pure will. He could feel the substance of the mountains dissolving, as the wall between universes buckled. Inimical energies and the antithesis of matter began to leak through. Exotic radiation welled up beneath them, and Pluto sank to his knees, trying to knit the ground back together, as he usually struggled to knit his own flesh. Keep . . . them . . . off . . . me . . . .

  Juno and Thor stood over him, fending off the tiny, vicious godlings, but they were coming in from all sides now. Amaterasu gave up attacking, and tried to hold a dome of seething plasma over them, but she could only hold the creatures off for so long. Open the way to the Veil, Juno ordered, imperatively. It’s time to retreat, and fight again another day. In another place.

  I can’t leave while the land is like this! Pluto protested. It . . . buckles. It weakens. So much energy. So much destruction, as matter annihilates itself into energy.

  They will feed here, Quetzalcoatl said. Feed and grow. We cannot allow that.

  That, and worse. This place will become a volcano. Earthquakes will radiate out from here. There are fault lines extending out from this place, across the whole of Europa. They pass into Britannia. Into the North Sea. If these shift, the Reykjanes Ridge shifts. The trench at the heart of the Sea of Atlas moves. And when it moves, Caesaria Aquilonis moves, too. Pluto couldn’t stop the transmission of energy along
the ley-lines. That had already happened, and that energy was still resonating across the invisible web of lines that traced the globe. But he might be able to stop the tectonics. If he just had time.

  Time. Slave and master. Binder and bound.

  They struggled. They fought. But there were over a hundred of the entities now—each alone, no more than a gnat, but it was impossible to keep them all at bay. And there were still larger creatures that hadn’t been sundered. Minerva threw herself in front of a hit meant for Juno, taking it across the face. Juno tossed Pluto a harried glance. We have no more time.

  And I cannot mend this. Not entirely. Pluto was exhausted. He’d managed to slow the effects, but he couldn’t repair the ley-lines. It would have to wait. Retreat.

  Where they had been nine on the mountainside, with Vesta dead, and Venus fled mid-battle, they should have been seven as they entered Olympus. But now, they were only six. Pluto turned, raising his cowled head. Where is Minerva? he demanded as Venus approached them now, some of the blood cleaned off her face. He reached out and found Minerva’s mind, still in the Alps. What are you doing?