by Poppet
Ewan shakes his head, pointing at me, “Remember our little pow-wow? The way you shut off mentally when you're in attack mode, that's what happens to all of us. It's like meditation, calm, serene, perfect. It is akin to reveling directly in Odin and Búri's presence. They channel their peace into us but only when we're in the throes of violence.”
Alweada grins at me, “Needless to say when we have nookie it gets a bit wild. Our orgasms are brutal.”
Ewan erupts with laughter, turning back to the contraption, fiddling until it blinks to life to display an image as if it's connected to a satellite.
Glancing at Gunn, I catch him watching me, his expression a little less hostile. Seeing my observation, he says, “Now you know why I'm dressed like this. I earned the right.” Dismissing me, he stalks to the screen where the other two men stand as if before a jury.
Jeez! He's got a sword strapped to his back with a double axe-head at the bottom. It's like a javelin with two weapons in one. He must be stronger than a bison to wield that thing.
Ewan glances back at me, a smile playing on his lips while he multitasks, eavesdropping on my thoughts. Embarrassed, I stick my tongue at him behind everyone's backs.
Seeing the three of them side by side like that I'm truly beginning to feel like a ballerina. They look like gladiators who fell into the potion when they were wee lads.
Twisting slightly, Ewan flexes his bicep at me, giving me his shit eating smirk.
It's enough to snap the tension eating me and I burst out laughing just as the screen in front of them shows a mountain falling flat. Like it fainted and couldn't be bothered to be tall and indomitable another second.
Ewan looks at it, then at me, then at the other two men, grabbing bibs and bobs off his desk with urgency. The alarm on his face which flicked across his features for a nanosecond pumps panic into me.
“What? What's going on?”
“That chick is a Thur. No doubt about it,” Ewan answers.
“What's a Thur?” I ask, looking between them, despairing at the clenched jaws and battle ready expressions.
“A Thur... fuck we don't have time for this. Liah, everything you think of when someone mentions Thor, that sums up a Thur for you. It's a race of men created for god. They are immortals amongst giants. They are the best of the best.”
“With hammers and stuff?” I ask, unclasping my shoe straps so I can run if I have to.
“They are the fucking hammers, Deliah,” says Gunn, in an impatient tone. “Mjilnor is a sect of our society. Nothing – not even a god – can apprehend or stop a Thur. Thor's name represents his lineage. He was the first Thur. For the record we don't call him Thor, we call him Thur. The power of the hammer Mjilnor is not lightning, it's way worse. You just witnessed it on that screen.”
“Pack sandwiches Cotton, it looks like we're all going to hel,” Ewan says, rushing through the viewing lounge.
“What?” I mumble, staring at the dust cloud billowing up from the 'satellite' image on the big screen.
Spiraling back to face me, wearing his Odin is displeased glare, he semi smiles while sarcasm drips off his tone, “What did you think Thur's hammer is, a Tesla coil sending out lightning bolts? Sorry love, if it was that simple we'd not be knee deep in the valley of despair right now. Hell's bells Cotton, that chick is a risi. We're in a mountain and if we don't get the fuck out right this second we're going to die by being crushed with three thousand tons of granite.”
“What's a risi?” I wail. Fuck, fuck, I don't know what the hell is happening.
“A risi is a mountain raiser, and a mountain slayer. Only Thurs have the ability. In a nutshell Deliah, we're sitting ducks because her reach is too close for comfort.”
“And sandwiches?” I snap, diving out of my chair, unsure of which direction to run while I panic.
“Cucumber or corned beef, it all depends on how hungry you get in the heat of battle,” says Ewan with an edge.
“You're kidding?” I check, still finding his humor hard to read. Am I supposed to go find Lloyd, now!?
Laughing now, strapping that weird sword to his back, Ewan strides my way, gripping my hand as if it is an afterthought, “It's hard to hate a man who comes this well armed to a fight. Fuck me but he's on the wrong damn team. I wonder if she packed sandwiches? She doesn't look like the sandwich type, does she? She looks like carrion is more her speed.”
Alweada paused the footage and I look back at her visage.
And yet I know that look when he glances back to the concentration of her fierce scowl and glowing left eye forever frozen on the big screen. Ewan is wondering what such a powerful woman would be like in the sack.
I'm damn tempted to introduce him to my short temper at the expression betraying his curiosity. You want fierce, let's test your reflexes darling.
That gives him the broadest smile as he locks my hand in his biting hold, pulling me with him as we rush down the tunnel.
Gunn pauses for a moment as he turns right to go a different way, “I'm heading out now. Get everyone out, I'll send word when I can.”
Alweada changes his trajectory, following Gunn, “I'll fly back with the news. I'm not letting him die out there without a witness.”
“Who said I'm dying. That bitch with her Raven eye is the one about to die,” he growls, deep and decidedly sexy. I like him pissed off, I think I've found my calling in life. I shall live to annoy the pants off this man.
Ewan holds me back protectively behind him, stalling to argue with Gunn, “She is not dying! They think we attacked them. I expect you to put the record straight. She looks injured, which means you will not raise your sword to her! You hearing me Gunn?”
But Gunn's gone, sprinting away, his heavy footfalls echoing down the catacomb at us, a weird light flickering with them as they run toward the fight they're itching for.
Ewan grabs me and hauls me in front of him, pushing me with a hard shove, “Run Liah! Get Arrabella and some decent shoes. I'll meet you back here in two minutes.”
I don't have time to interrogate or doubt, I feel the urgency as if the walls are doused in petrol and burning me alive.
This is do or die time.
Chapter 16
From his eyes comes a horrible light, like a flame
(him of eagumstod ligge gelicost leoht unfægr)
~ Edda
Macala:
My palm starts pulsating the red light of clan leader. It's a warning, we are under threat.
Stepping close to Emma, I drop to my haunches and whisper, “Change over to telepathy. We've got company.”
I don't have time to explain, throwing thick shadows over the fire and Emma, cloaking her in a black so absolute no flashlight could penetrate. Sidling to the edge of the cave, I peer into the slashing rain, the mist so dense and low it could hide a fucking battalion.
Curling the miasma around my own body, I step out a little further, glad I have my contacts in so the light in my eye doesn't penetrate the gloom. Feeling the miasma which coasts down the gullies and crevices, I can't sense a damn thing. They could be airborne.
Her pain isn't helping, wracking my bones with piercing agony every time she inhales. I royally messed up and now we're fucked.
A bear rises in my periphery and I hold my breath instinctively, when a raptor with the wingspan of a pterodactyl alights on my left, the bear launching from the right.
Shit!
The glint of metal catches the predawn breath of light and I morph into insubstantial shadow, the blade just missing me as the handle blocks the escape and two men materialize on my doorstep.
“We can see you harii,” snarls the Eagle.
Clever bastards, using both forms at their disposal to corner me without alerting us of their advancing.
“We're here to negotiate,” says the Eagle without the battle axe.
He gives me a half friendly warning smile, his green eyes flat as icepicks in a glacier, tawny hair billowing in the gale.
How the hell di
d he manage to fly in this weather? Fuck, I forgot how fierce these men are. One false move and we're dead.
Solidifying in a show of good faith, I address the spokesperson, “We have no wish to speak to intermediaries. We're on our way to see the chieftan of Eagle.”
Flint eyes gives me his death smile, “Good, we'll escort you. We know you have a female companion. Warn her that I will cut you into chum if she so much as rattles another mountain in the vicinity.”
How the hell do they know? How long have they been watching us before moving in?
Fuck! I'm third in command of the Raven clan and I'm thicker than mud. We're not prepared for conflict should things turn sour. Love addles the mind. Emma's proposal seemed so easy and reasonable that it never dawned on me that the Eagle have no motivation to be reasonable.
Irked, I tell the behemoth, “Your clan felled my mountain first. We did not incite violence or conflict, it came out of the blue. We are on the same team, your actions require an explanation.”
“Macala, grandson of Kake, I am Alweada and this is my kinsman Gunn. We understand your skepticism as we had a flock alighting at the time of the attack. They were caught in the conflict themselves. Eagle did not attack Raven. This is a misunderstanding.”
Alweada's green eyes warm a tad, as if inciting me to take him at his word. It's not like I didn't wonder the same thing myself. Eagle had no cause to attack our clan and were not provoked.
“If not you, then who are you proposing launched this attack?” I argue, standing my ground, prepared to die to defend Emma.
“It would be better if you discussed this in person with the chief.”
Flint eyed Gunn steps his scarred chest up to my nose, growling down at me, “I'll take the woman so you don't try anything stupid.”
I shake my head, “She can't be moved. Her back is broken.”
Alweada looks beyond me into the shadows, “Your miasma cannot hide the scent of fire. For a Raven you aren't very stealthy. Why have you not healed her?”
“I tried, it's not working,” I mutter, my despondency and shame cracking my baritone.
Odin damn you for exposing my only vulnerability. I can't help it, I love her and am so bitter that I was so fucking dumb.
Gunn lowers his weapon, glaring down at me, “I need a show of honest intent from you. Give me a gift to take to my chief so he will return to heal your woman.”
“I have nothing to offer. All we have are food supplies.”
Alweada steps away from where the fire waits in cloaked darkness, perilously close to Em, saying, “Do you have læraðr?”
I nod.
“It was for læraðr that we sent an Eagle to your nest. That will make a good peace offering to our liege.”
“How's he going to heal her when it can't?” I debate, instinctively suspicious.
Gunn grunts a serrated laugh, “He is finfolk. Why did your clan send you if you know so little? You show our chief disrespect.”
“It was a spontaneous decision. It was my lady's idea and she is a young Raven yet. We wanted no war, we came to reinstate peace between our clans, hence we come unarmed.”
“That's not what we heard,” snarls Alweada. “And even without the thundereggs, bringing a risi with you is as armed as you can be.”
“I was tutoring her. This is her first Thur training. It was a necessity, not a threat to your clan.” I'm drowning here. I'd do anything to have my elskling back to healthy, but they have good reason to consider this a circumspect assault.
Alweada raises eyebrows, “Show us the woman is injured. We have no reason to take you at your word.”
She's been so silent that I'm trying my best not to freak out and show my weakness to these goons. Waving my hands I suck the shadows back, exposing my angel.
She shakes, her teeth clatter, but she's unconscious. Not giving a flying monkey about the bastards in my zone I scoot to my knees, pawing the saturated hair off her face, dropping my head, double checking she's breathing.
Hang on Em, they have help. I promise I'll make this right. Please elskling, hold on just an hour longer.
Gunn holds out his gigantic hand, “Læraðr. I will return shortly.”
Fuck off!
Gesturing vaguely in the direction of our supplies, I snap, “Over there!”
I refuse to look up and show them the tears of worry in my eyes.
Heavy footsteps walk to the hidden larder, scuff and scrape the cave floor, and then the Eagle plonks his weapon down in a heavy thunk, saying to his kinsman, “I'm leaving this with you. I will be back faster than Thur's wrath.”
He strides away, probably to hamask.
Alweada joins me at the fire, saying congenially, “Your weakness is obvious, Raven. Why do you have the clan leader mark when you are so poorly prepared to lead?”
“It is the way of the Raven clan. I am leader destined by blood, but I am young still. Far too young to lead my men onto the field of conflict.”
“How did your woman injure herself?” he says, dropping to his haunches to face me.
“It was my fault. I wanted to alarm her into exercising her blood-borne gift, her birthright, falsely believing the læraðr would heal her. It has done nothing.”
He stands, looming over me, “You broke your woman? When Ewan hears that he'll break you.”
Clearly disgusted, he turns his back on me, hefting his weapon and returning to the mouth of the cave to wait for his kin, acting as a sentry and a jailor.
Fuck! This is becoming dire so fast I wish she could fly with me out of here.
Come on Emma, wake up baby, please.
*
Deliah:
We're carrying the family secrets, quite literally, the legion of giants exiting their haven for the first time in hundreds of years, the clean cold air blowing down the exit tunnel enough to make me pine for the comfort I've taken for granted in such deep protection. The mountain insulates and protects and I haven't even missed the natural passage of light into night.
It's as if I was born to adapt to these conditions.
I'm shocked by how many men I'd not yet met, their gargantuan size filling me with awe. I wish I had a camera, but then even if I could show it to Lara she'd say it was a special effect done by CGI.
Footsteps rattle the tunnel with thunder and Ewan's hand in mine lights up like a lighthouse warning a ship.
“It's okay everyone, it's Gunn!” he yells to the agitated men dropping sacks and scraping blades out of sheaths. He winks at me, “Now you know why your clan chief has to hear your thoughts. It could save your life.”
Cradling Bella, I'm the lucky one, expected to carry nothing but clothes in my bag.
Gunn strides up to Ewan, holding out a golden apple.
They have a silent conversation, speaking confidentially mind to mind, when Gunn drops a sack at Ewan's feet.
Ewan nods, his hazel eyes flaring with that strange amber light. He offers the apple in his hand to me, “Eat this.” Glancing to Adam on my right, he orders, “Make sure she consumes all of it. I have to go. The risi is injured, that was the cause for the tectonic disturbance and her shaking of the volcanic cavern beneath the range.”
Giving the sack to Adam, he turns to face his men, “Return to the nest! All is well! There is no threat if I act swiftly!”
Rifling in his backpack he pulls out a tiny harp, shifting as he pivots, leaning close and giving me a kiss on my forehead, “Keep the bed warm, I'll be home soon.”
A little tongue-tied, holding an apple and a cat, I watch the leaders march away from their warriors.
He says everything is fine, but that's not his happy walk. That's a man getting ready to inflict violence. He had that look when he told me Dias was here.
I have separation anxiety. I've been adopted so many times just to be abandoned, that this is hurting. Tears are welling and my heart feels like it's being torn from my chest.
Watching Ewan leave me shreds my carefully constructed pocket of home.
I shake my head, a sob bellowing in amplified pain down the tunnel.
Gangly arms fold around me and the tall man hugs me to his chest, “He'll be back. I swear it on Odin. Here, let me take Bella. I'll walk with you back to your rooms, okay?”
But he doesn't let go, letting me weep my broken heart into his chest.
Who am I crying for? Ewan?
He gave me a home, he's become my family so fast that it rocks my foundations to feel this much anguish.
Chapter 17
He screamed and prayed for mercy, but was
told by the eagle that he should not be loosed until he
had sworn to bring Idun with her apples out of Asgard
~ Edda
Macala:
Alweada lowers the weapon, stepping out of the way as two seasoned giants trample into my hideout.
I recognize Gunn and gather the man with him is his healer.
His eyes are as golden as an eagle's, glinting orenda in his irises, numinous and powerful. He carries a skald's instrument in a hand bright with clan-chief fire. He's their chief?
Scrambling to stand, I bow my head respectfully. “Hail Eagle chief.”
“Shut up you pathetic pillock. You have no right to call yourself vithar. I'll deal with you later,” says the indomitable wall of muscle, so tall he ducks to avoid smacking his head on the rock of the cavern's roof.
Gunn gives me a lethal grin, gesturing to the man, “Ewan, chief of Eagle.”
Chastised I remain silent, worrying about the repercussions of upsetting this powerful man before even meeting him. Giving the arnlaug a sidelong glance, I sweat at the hatred in his flat steel eyes. The man is clearly the personification of their reputation. He's as indomitable and battle scarred as the skald's stories of them.
