Truth or Death

by Sara C. Roethle

  7

  Alaric

  Alaric soothed Erykah, his body hunched around her in the small, dark cave. The opening to the cave was close enough he could see her face red from crying, her breathing coming out in exhausted grunts.

  Silhouetted in the opening’s moonlight were Mikael and Faas. Mikael held his axe in one hand, ready to fend off more crows, or whatever else might lurk in the space between Asgard and the realm of death.

  Freyja moved near his side, then sat, leaning near his shoulder to look down at Erykah. “She’ll be alright. Such terrors make us stronger.”

  He looked down at his daughter. “Or they traumatize us.”

  “You grew up Vaettir many centuries ago, in a time much harsher than the present. You are fine.”

  Finally, he looked at her. “What do you know of it?”

  She shrugged, then leaned her back against the cavern wall. “We were all young once, though the memory is more distant for some of us.”

  “What did Odin do to you?” He’d meant to only think it, but the words slipped from his lips.

  She eyed him sharply. “Why do you think he did something to me?”

  He shrugged. Erykah had finally fallen asleep, and was breathing evenly, though she’d be hungry soon. “Loki aids us because Odin slighted him in the past. He has not revealed what happened, but he alluded that something did.”

  “So you want to know why I aid you?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed heavily. “You’ve seen the men and women who serve in our halls, yes?”

  “Some, yes. Maddy has spoken to a few. She was told they were mortals once who entered into contracts with the gods. Their service is the debt they must pay.”

  She glanced toward Faas and Mikael near the cave entrance, but all was still. She turned back to Alaric. “We used to enlist very few, just those who called out for the gods’ help, and knew the price they must pay. They came willingly from many different realms, and were released once their term of service was up.”

  He watched her, waiting for her to go on.

  “After Frigg was killed—” she hesitated, “Odin began to change. He was not always as he is now. He was a benevolent god, a creator and keeper of balance. Frigg’s death changed that. He began stealing magic from other worlds, and he demanded more mortals be enlisted to our service. I think he wanted to punish them.”

  That seemed about right. The Odin he’d met seemed far from benevolent. “Punish them for what?”

  Freyja hung her head, draping her loose, honey-blonde hair across her chest. “It was mortals who killed Frigg, back when the gods were an every day part of mortals’ lives. After that, Odin tasked me with luring more mortals into service. I was forced to . . . trick them.” She eyed him pointedly. “I am not a trickster goddess, and it is no longer an honor to serve the Aesir. Even after Yggdrasil was destroyed, I used Sleipnir to bring more mortals to us, from many different realms, replacing those Odin was forced to free when their contracts were up.”

  He nodded, wondering if Maddy knew any of this and had been sworn to secrecy. He knew her well enough to know she’d take a secret to the grave if she cared for its owner. “Okay, I understand why you would help us, but why Loki? He is a trickster god.”

  She arched a brow at him. “You mean to tell me you’ve lived this long, and know so little myth?”

  He shrugged. He enjoyed the written word, but myths had never held much of his interest.

  “Odin stole Loki’s children,” Freyja explained. “His sons were killed, and you’ll meet his daughter soon enough, trapped in a realm far from her father. You could have had your question answered by a book—at least in part—if you’d cared to read one.”

  He ignored her mocking tone. Most of what he’d seen in Asgard didn’t line up with any myths, but he didn’t say so out loud. “So Loki’s children were stolen and killed, and now Odin is trying to do the same to us. I suppose we were right to trust him.”

  She smirked. “Trust is a strong term to use when speaking of Loki, but yes, even if he does not care about you personally, his interests align with yours. He will not betray you. His daughter, however . . . ”

  Erykah began to wake up. He rocked her gently, hoping she’d sleep for just a while longer. Once they left the cave, they’d need to be quiet.

  Freyja laughed at some silent joke he knew she wouldn’t let him in on. “Well, you’ll just have to meet her to see what I mean.” She glanced toward the cave entrance again. “It’s been long enough. The crows should be gone.”

  She stood, then looked down at him. “If I tell you to run, you take the child and run, do not turn back for any of us.”

  He rose, clutching Erykah protectively in his arms. “She comes first for me. That is not an issue.”

  She nodded sharply. “Good. We’ve a long way to go to Hel’s realm. Those crows were just the beginning.”

  He looked to Mikael and Faas, both watching out the cave’s entrance, hoping they were up for the task. Madeline would be devastated if either were killed. He hated to admit it, but he would too. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgiven Mikael for what he’d done to his mother. It was hard to despise a man who cared so much for the safety of those most important to you, even a man who would probably steal them away if he could.

  Sophie

  Sophie stumbled away from Sleipnir. Strong arms wrapped around her, then lifted her back to her feet. She smiled sheepishly over her shoulder at Aila. Clumsy, she was not, but she found traveling with Sleipnir almost as jarring as traveling through Yggdrasil. And her injured—probably broken—arm did not help her balance.

  Madeline and Marcos stepped away from Sleipnir’s other side, seemingly unfazed. Of Marcos, she was not surprised, and of Maddy . . . well, she was pretty sure she wasn’t Maddy anymore. The possession that had come over her was oddly reminiscent of the Key, and she hoped it had not somehow escaped from within Yggdrasil’s root when Maddy pulled the magic into herself.

  Realizing Aila still had a hand on her waist, she stepped away, then blushed. The conflict between her and Aila was unfortunate, and she did wish to mend it, but now was not the time.

  Madeline glanced at Marcos, then walked off into a forest of maples.

  Sophie jogged after Marcos as he followed her. She reached his side, then put a hand on his bony shoulder, despite her aversion to touching him.

  He stopped walking and looked at her.

  “What the hell is inside Madeline? Is it the Key?”

  Aila reached them. “I don’t think so. Not even the Key could have decimated a god so easily. There was nothing left of Ve.” She shook her head, her hazel eyes on Madeline as she proceeded through the trees. “Not a trace. We must proceed cautiously.”

  Marcos blinked at her. “It seems to me, whatever is inside Madeline is accomplishing the task she thought herself too weak to handle. What is the issue?”

  Sophie huffed. “The issue, is that we care about Madeline, and we don’t know what this thing truly intends.”

  “I do not believe it will harm her, if that is truly your concern.” He turned and walked off in the direction Madeline had gone.

  Sophie had no choice but to follow, but there was one issue.

  She glanced back at Sleipnir, then to Aila. “You should probably lead the horse along so it doesn’t run off without us.”

  Aila’s cheeks flushed. “Why must I be the one to lead it?”

  Sophie arched a brow. “Are you not second in command after Mikael? Is not leadership your task?”

  Aila sighed. “Fine.” She walked back toward the horse.

  Sophie smiled at her back. Aila was far too easy to manipulate for her own good. It was cute . . . especially in one so otherwise formidable.

  Once Aila had Sleipnir by the reins, they crunched through the leaves in the direction Marcos and Madeline had gone.

  Aila cast a wary glance around the white-trunked maples as they walked. “Are we truly supposed to just stay back and
watch? What if Madeline is trapped inside her mind, powerless against this being’s influence?”

  Sophie brushed the fingers of her left hand against her blade’s hilt near her waist. Sometimes just touching a weapon made her feel safe, but not now. Especially since her right arm was her dominate, and would be no good to her for a while. “I don’t know what else we can do. We have no way to communicate with Loki or Freyja, and she might just cut them down with a blinding beam of light even if we did manage to summon them.”

  She spotted Marcos’ black-clad back through the trees, and beyond him, Madeline, standing before another golden root. Once again, not a creature stirred to attack them. She’d assumed at the previous root it was because of Ve. Now, she wasn’t sure. Did ghouls fear Madeline more than a god? Or did they just fear her now that Yggdrasil’s power was within her?

  She stopped walking and looked to Aila. “We could always take the horse and flee. We could return to Asgard and report what has occurred.”

  Aila snorted. “And you know how to make it travel?”

  She sighed. “We wouldn’t want to run into Odin regardless, I suppose.”

  “Can’t he hear our conversation?”

  She shrugged. “Maddy killed Ve. I doubt hearing our words now will matter one way or the other. Odin will come for us soon.”

  Aila nodded, though her gaze was ahead on Maddy and Marcos. “She’s touching the root. Let’s go.”

  She led Sleipnir along past Sophie. Sophie watched for a moment, then slunk after her. “Let’s not get too close.”

  “Agreed,” Aila replied without turning around.

  Sophie watched Madeline’s back as she touched the root. Marcos stood off to one side, no longer needed. She wondered just where her brother was, if he had actually made it to Hel’s domain. She also wondered if Hel was just as scary as what currently inhabited Madeline, and if either of them would live to tell the tale.

  Alaric

  Alaric looked up, then further up, then up some more, but no matter how he strained, he could not make out the top of the wall reaching impossibly high into the pitch black sky. The desolate land behind them seemed oddly lit with moonlight, but there was no moon. Through the adjoining gates, there was only darkness.

  Mikael stood at his side, cradling Erykah. That he’d been the only one who’d been able to quiet Erykah as they’d left the cave stung.

  Faas let out a low whistle behind them. “Now that, is a very big set of gates.”

  Freyja appeared at the other end of the wall, far to their right, walking toward them, her shoulders hunched. She didn’t seem tired, but Alaric realized with a start that his shoulders were hunched too. It was something about the feel of the place, the boundless black sky, the powdery earth like ground bone. It felt dead, but not the empty kind of dead. It was more the terror and sadness of death pushing down upon you, threatening to crush away your life and add you to its legion of lost souls.

  He shook his head.

  Mikael looked at him. “It’s getting in your thoughts, isn’t it?”

  “What is?”

  “The power of Hel,” Freyja interrupted. She looked up at the gates. “There’s no other way in to the east. We’ll have to open the gates.”

  Alaric frowned. They’d tried pushing them, but though there was no visible lock, they wouldn’t budge.

  Mikael was the next to speak. “Just how, pray tell, do you suggest we do that, oh wise ancient goddess?”

  She glared at him. “We must summon one of the messengers. They will alert Hel that a perished soul awaits her at the gates, and the gates will open.”

  “Do you intend to kill one of us?” Mikael asked. “I vote for . . . ” he looked to Faas, then to Alaric, “not me.” He moved his arms to shield more of Erykah’s small body. “Or her.”

  Freyja rolled her eyes, then looked to Faas. “You. You can control the energy of the dead, yes?”

  Faas’ eyes widened beneath his blond bangs. “Well yes, but I need something dead to work with. My gifts are geared more toward energy, not true necromancy like Madeline or Marcos.”

  “Good enough.” Freyja walked toward the gates, then positioned herself in front of them. “Drain my energy, just enough to leave me alive, then project it into the form of a deceased being.”

  Alaric looked to Faas. He knew much about Maddy’s power, but Faas guarded his secrets more closely. “Can you do that?”

  Faas shook his head. “No.”

  Freyja glanced back at him impatiently. “Just try. It is not safe standing out in the open like this.”

  Faas’ eyes went a little wider. He looked around as if he hadn’t realized they were in immediate danger.

  Mikael handed a sleeping Erykah to Alaric, then placed a comforting hand on Faas’ shoulder. “There is no harm in trying. Just don’t kill her.”

  Alaric clutched Erykah to his chest, praying she’d remain asleep. He didn’t find Mikael’s words particularly comforting, but Faas seemed to take courage from them. “Yes, Dróttinn. I will do my best.”

  Alaric recognized the Old Norsk word for leader, and wondered how many times over the centuries Faas had referred to Mikael as such. They’d probably known each other as long as Alaric had been alive, maybe longer.

  “Hurry it up,” Freyja said, a slight tremble to her voice.

  Alaric turned with Erykah in his arms to put his back against the solid wall next to the gates. He inhaled sharply. Out in the darkness, something moved. Something large.

  “Did you see that?” he asked Mikael, but he’d already lifted his axe from his belt.

  Mikael didn’t look at Faas and Freyja as he said, “Whatever you’re going to do, do it quickly. I do not imagine our peace and quiet will last for much longer.”

  Freyja gasped, then fell to her knees on the powdery earth.

  Alaric didn’t sense anything from Faas, but his eyes were closed, his head bowed, and both arms outstretched toward Freyja.

  Mikael stepped in front of Alaric with his back to him. “Please, don’t let him kill the goddess.”

  Alaric knew he wasn’t talking to him, but to some deity, though Mikael didn’t strike him as the overly pious type. He supposed the realm of Hel could bring out the religion in a man, regardless of what that religion might be.

  He spotted the dark shape again, far away yet, but getting closer. A blood-curdling hiss echoed across the barren earth. The odd movements of the shape became clear to him. It was a snake. A massive cobra, its body holding a wide hooded head nearly fifteen feet above the ground.

  “Ye gods,” Mikael hissed. “Child of Bastet, are you sure you don’t want to be the one to fight this?”

  “I have Erykah,” Alaric growled, belying the fact that his blood had turned to ice.

  He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the cobra, now clear in the ambient light.

  “I can’t do it!” Faas gasped. “I cannot give her energy shape! My gift is to take it and expend it, nothing more.”

  “Try harder,” Mikael ordered. Hefting his axe over his shoulder, he marched off toward the cobra before it could reach them.

  Clutching Erykah to his chest, Alaric looked around for a route of escape. Freyja was curled on her side on the ground, and Faas was flailing his hands wildly, tears in his eyes, trying to give her energy shape.

  “Just picture Madeline!” he blurted. “Make the energy look just like her! You know the feel of her soul probably better than anyone else. Give it shape!”

  Another hiss cut across the land, then a yell from Mikael, and a loud thwap of his axe cutting into flesh. Alaric could see the serpent flailing wildly, but there were too many shadows for him to make out Mikael.

  “There!” Faas shouted triumphantly.

  Alaric whipped his gaze to him, then past him. Over Freyja’s prostrate form stood a spectral image of Madeline. She was whitish, and transparent, but it was unmistakably her, down to the long braid she’d taken to wearing her hair in when resting at the cottage.


  The massive gates creaked open, swinging inward.

  “Mikael!” Alaric shouted. “The gates!”

  Mikael did not answer, though the serpent still flailed.

  “Oh hell,” he growled. He ran toward Faas, then handed him Erykah. She awoke and started wailing. “Get her through the gates!” he shouted.

  Faas held Erykah in his arms, but looked down at Freyja.

  “Leave her,” Alaric ordered. “Think of what your Doyen—both of them—would command.”

  Faas nodded and ran toward the gates.

  Alaric drew the blade at his hip, wishing he had something longer, though he and Sophie were both most comfortable with hunting daggers. Their mother had trained them early in the art of war, and it was her weapon of choice.

  “Curse you,” he muttered as he ran toward the cobra, though his words were most definitely not for the serpent, but for the man who might already be dead beneath its weight.

  8

  The presence inside my head was unbearably heavy. We’d drained the life from another root, taking Yggdrasil’s energy into us. I shouldn’t have been able to contain so much. If this . . . thing left me now with all this power inside of me, I would die.

  I was getting really tired of being possessed by otherworldly energies. Could my thoughts and actions never just be my own?

  “There should be only two roots left,” Marcos said behind me.

  I turned from the root I’d just killed to face him. We were in a low forest of maple trees intersected by a peaceful stream. “The one that connects this realm to Asgard, and just one other” I said. I wasn’t sure if I innately knew that, or if it was the thing inside me.

  Sophie and Aila stood back with Sleipnir. I couldn’t blame them for not helping me, after what I’d done to Ve.

  “Just who are you?” Marcos asked. “What sort of being could slay the brother of Odin?”