Master of Umbra (The Valhalla Series)

by Poppet

  Ewan sits next to Emma, resting the harp on his knee, leaning close and whispering in her ear, his eyes becoming forge bright and ferocious as he harnesses his magick.

  Her shaking stops, her head lolling in unconscious bliss. He gives me a brief scowl which promises pain before lifting his harp and plucking a fey tune, singing to her in the olde language. How does he own the spells of Odin? He has the galdr power.

  Alweada steps to my other side, hemming me between the two berserkers, making me feel like the young giant that I am. They are broad and towering, men of might, renown for their ferocity in fight.

  He says in a low voice, “Our father Wutan, long blessed with Óðinn, he sang when we attacked. His songs blunt sword, renders fire harmless, forges our blood, gives us immortal sorcery and havtr. Chief is his own bloodkin. He epitomizes our god's fury and light. He can give, and he can take it away. He walks with the draugr for they too are his kin.”

  My mind reels. Ewan has Odin's gifts! A direct and close descendant of our father in Asgard. It's been so long since my lessons on our father and his many names, and his many shapes as he shifts from one to the other as easily as the wind changes course.

  In our language Óðinn who we call Odin today, first translated as rage. His name meant rage. He was the first berserker and from him bore the race of eagle's Ulfhednar. The eagle stayed with Odin, always watching over him, elevated above all as his closest ally and most trusted guard. It's legendary how fury would possess Odin and he would become the god of pain as he delivered his wrath in a mindless trance. No one dared to challenge him, no one but Skadi.

  Holy fuck! I'm dead. I'm fucking crispy and as crinkling as the souls cast into the cauldron of simmering lard. Ewan's clearly pissed at me and his fury will be sated.

  The chief's song is beautiful, his voice carrying the celestial reverberations of the most holy. It dawns on me that I no longer feel her pain. He's cut me off.

  Glancing at my palm, I touch surreptitiously inside the Valhalla triangle, and Emma doesn't even stir. His power is so great as to be diabolical. Why did no one warn me that this man has the power to break a harii oath and handfasting, with the power to woo my Emma from her bond with me?

  She opens her eyes, her Raven eye glowing with inner light, staring at Ewan as if he is an angel who has come courting. He reaches out, placing his glowing palm gently on her cheek, “You are healed.”

  Then he looks my way, his gentle expression wiped black with anger. It's a silent order as the oafs on either side of me each grab an arm, readying to march me to my torture.

  Ewan scoops Emma into his arms, standing with the harp hooked on his finger. “Walk, son. And keep walking.”

  But all I want is to take Emma, to kiss her and beg for forgiveness.

  As if he is a telepath he holds her higher, “You do not have permission to touch any woman. The man who harms his own woman will suffer the same fate.”

  My karma is sealed then. Kake will be summoned and I will be forced to take my beating like a man.

  *

  Deliah:

  I can't face my own room. As soon as Adam leaves me I sneak into Ewan's chambers, climbing onto his bed with Bella, cradling her and his huge pillow, burying my head into it and breathing in his cologne.

  Please come back. Don't be like all the other families who promised they'd call soon, and never did. I need you!

  *

  Ewan:

  I carry the risi to the ashroom, silently ordering Alweada to stand guard over her until I've dealt with the ambot named Macala.

  His grandfather must ostracize him. His actions are unforgivable.

  Placing the woman down, I crouch in front of her, holding her hand, “Emma, this is my nest, and here you are welcome. I will return shortly and we can discuss your reason for wanting an audience with me, but right now I have an urgent matter on which to attend. If you need anything just ask Alweada here and he will ensure your needs are met.”

  She grips my hand, tight, “Thank you.”

  It's loaded with her gratitude, and I offer her a smile, “I had selfish motivation. If I did not heal you I would not now have my home intact.”

  “I'm so sorry! I couldn't help it, the pain was so severe I was just gritting my teeth and sweating.”

  “I understand this was your first exercise in raising and felling a mountain?”

  She nods, white mist blinding her for a second before she sucks it back into herself.

  Hello!

  Fascinated, I state the obvious, “You are not raven. You are owl. You are the caller of mist.”

  She nods, “A rare white raven. Daughter of Skadi, I'm told.”

  “So we have you to thank for bringing us the winter of swords.”

  Sitting in my chair, she wriggles to sit up straight, “I beg your pardon?”

  Gesturing above and beyond, I say, “The weather, it is your doing.”

  “Winter of swords? What does that mean?”

  “The weather you created has the stones of ice, the snow of stealth, the bitter rain of pain. It is the portent of swords, their forged blades blending into the mist and sleet, cutting through enemies until blood pools at our feet.”

  “Do all winters have names?” she asks, wrinkling a smooth brow with cute crinkles.

  “The next one will be known as the Winter of Wolves. It is foretold.”

  “Oh,” she nods, none of my wisdom appreciated in her ignorance. “How did you heal me?”

  Ah, where to begin answering that one. “Healing music was taught by the Finfolk, and although mankind now consider all of this sentenced to the annals of folklore and fiction, the truth of the matter is there were islands off our coast which are now submersed. The Finfolk are a cosmopolitan collection of draugr and finmen who spent some of the year on Orkney and the rest of their time in Finfolkaheem. Around these parts we simply call their island Vlaenderen. It's out to sea and is a 'mystical island' of advanced civilization. Back in my parent's day it was a normal physical location, one we didn't question, and the home of our wisefolk and sages.”

  “Wow, I have so much to learn. Mac's been trying to teach me but I've only been in his clan for three weeks. One day I'll get the hang of all these names and designations. They did tell me I'm like Skadi, that I must become true to my bloodline, fierce and fearless. But that day is not today.”

  Her candid guile burns a sweet suffering into my heart. Was this what Skadi was like when she naively stomped into Asgard's hall and demanded revenge?

  “Are you a skald?” she asks, pursing full lips, reminding me of Liah.

  “I am that and much much more. Here, let me show you something. Hold out your palm for me.”

  As trusting as an egret she gives me her hand, palm up, and it is this naivete which makes me burn to punish the bastard who hurt her. What kind of man tortures a child this trusting and eager to learn?

  Holding her hand between our faces, I instruct, “Think of the power you call, the power of the mist. Concentrate on your palm and wish for Skadi's flower.”

  Sweetly she closes her eyes like a child about to blow out birthday candles while I watch in delight as the crystals form on her hand, the perfect prism of ice particles blossoming from her own flesh. Emma Raven is as powerful as my mother. Macala is unworthy of this woman. He is an unsuitable match.

  “Open your eyes,” I croon softly, smiling at her glee when she finds the frost petals clustered between our noses.

  “What is it?” she whispers, as if to speak louder would destroy the evanescent moment.

  “A frost flower. You are truly Skadi's blood. Only the mother of snow and ice, who veils the land with her love for winter, could make such beauty. One day I will take you to visit our brethren in Iceland and show you the fields of cotton grass. Even in summer her lands rejoice in her beauty.”

  Standing again, I bend over and kiss her forehead, “Welcome home Emma. This is your home too, for you have no clan. You walk the solitary path of your ances
tor.”

  Before I get mushy and melancholic I hinge back to glower at Alweada, saying silently, Keep her here until I've had words with Macala.

  He nods, stepping into my shoes and playing the role of tour guide, making idle conversation too far away for her to hear the screams of her companion. It's time to play in the pit.

  Alan winches the door up for me, the clan gathered as my witnesses for vengeance, and I burst into the ring of doom with the breaker of backs.

  Feet stomp, the eagles ready for blood, eager to feed on his suffering.

  Two wide eyes face me and he cricks his neck, saying woefully, “What are you going to do with me?”

  Cracking my knuckles in the oppressive and expectant silence, I give him the only smile he'll witness from me, “Break your back, son. It is your sworn duty to protect her and you failed. Would you like to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

  Chapter 18

  The Raven-Abode's brave Ruler

  Got the broad-faced Bride of Odin

  ~ Skáldskaparmal

  Ewan:

  Macala is on a stretcher, being relocated to a dank cave for the night. Tired from an incessant day of being chief to so many, I stop in at Gunn's on my way to Emma.

  He's waiting for me, cleaning under his nails with a knife.

  “For fuck's sake, you know I hate it when you do that.”

  He looks up, doing a shitty job of hiding his laugh, “And that's why I do it. The second I hear you turn the corner I sit down to pick my nails.”

  “You're an arsewipe, Gunn.”

  “And you're alrekr, guthbrand, but you pussyfoot around an initiate. If you are going to lead, then lead. Or your enemies will make a fool of you my friend.”

  Folding my arms, I lean lazily against the doorway, arching amused eyebrows, “Do tell.”

  His jaw twitches, his bottom lip going white in the effort to hide the smile, “Let me train with her a day. She's got potential.”

  “Are you going to be nice? Women are flighty creatures when they're young. I do not need to mop up your mess every time you piss the young lady off. Not that I mind the hugs mind you, but I have a lot on my plate right now, and as it is Adam's desperately trying to get his horse in the running to that finish line.”

  Gunn's eyes narrow, “What about you? I thought she was your foretold.”

  “She is, but I am leader. I will have many more opportunities to handfast. I'd rather she be with a man I trust with my own life than a warrior still stupid enough to get himself killed.”

  “Spit it out Ewan. What is your plan?”

  “I have no plan, no one meddles with the fates of Asgard.”

  “And you are guthbrand, you are god's sword. You have his ear, you are his kin, you work his magic, you breathe his control. You're hiding something.”

  Shaking my head, I hold up a halting finger, “When Macala heals tomorrow we must hold a meeting. There is so much more at play here than the cards on the table. I have a foreboding all is not what it seems. Watch your back and keep your ear to the well.”

  “You're changing the subject Ewan, straight up brother. Spit it out or I'll beat it out of you.”

  Sighing, I walk deeper into his heim, sitting at his dining table, relaxing and stretching my legs, “It occurs to me that the Ravens tell the truth. Emma is an open book, like Odin's book. She hides nothing, her mind is wide open and she has an open intent without subterfuge. She is the spitting image of Skadi's heart. She has Skadi's gifts and talents. She is a Thur, the real deal, not these half assed inbred wimps who call themselves Thur. So it occurs to me Gunn, that Wolf has indeed set Raven against Eagle. But for what purpose? What does he want that he'd deliberately split up the Raven clan, sending the clan leader's heir underground with a fledgeling?”

  Gunn nods, leaning forward, spiking the knife into the table between us. “He wants the Thur.”

  “And I played directly into his hands when I broke her handfast with Macala. You will recall the magic sparks flew between Wolf and Owl. Loki loved Skadi and now he has someone worthy of his affections. If he can distract both his adversary clans with internal conflict he will have successfully caused misdirection, leaving the path open for him to woo the risi girl.”

  Gunn's eyes flash briefly, his chin lifting to stare down his nose as realization dawns on him, “You're going to handfast with Emma. Doubling her power.”

  I shake my head, “I would if it was that easy, but to do so would indeed cause a rift with the Raven clan, and incite war. Wolf would have achieved his first goal if I offend the Raven chief by swindling his future clan's woman right from under Mac's nose.”

  Kneading my temple I sigh my lethargy away, wishing this day would fucking end already.

  “So what's your plan?” asks Gunn again, impatience evident in his voice. He's ready to go roaring into the glens to dent a few heads with his axe.

  “Emma has enough power of her own. We make her our ally and we set up a new trade agreement with these fucking Ravens. If we offer our protection to Mac and Emma while the Wolf Master is on the hunt, we get them to sign a treaty which doesn't just supply us with Asgard's apples but with our own trees, enough for an orchard. I still have to empower Deliah so she can reach her potential.”

  “You're harboring fugitives as bait,” smiles Gunn, slapping his hand on the table between us like a shotgun exploding a barrel. “Entrapment for Wolf.”

  Smiling, I stand, “Not just a fugitive. I'm hiding the loaded weapon of mass destruction, making her one of us, so when the time comes she will direct her mountain crunching ability on the wolf's lair and not ours. You make nice with her, she must want to defend us.”

  “You're a manipulative bastard,” winks Gunn.

  “I have my reasons. Who knows where they will lead.”

  He stands then, reaching to clench my arm in brotherly greeting, telling me my own secrets, “And she is your kin. She looks like your mother, the one destroyed by Wolf. You have a score to settle on her behalf. I'm not stupid Chief. You would die to protect this harii mongrel.”

  “Her father may be Lars but I dispute she is Raven at all. She is owl. She does not flock, she is solitary, like us. She belongs in our land of snow and ice, she should be walking the track of frost.”

  Shaking my head, I snap out of my mooning over this star fallen from heaven directly into our lair. “I must go speak with her. Rest with Hræsvelgr this night my brother, for the eagle's strength will be sorely tested over the next two moons.”

  Gunn calls after me as I enter the tunnel to the ashroom, “You are Odin's grandson, you can't hide the attraction for his chosen wife Skadi. You are twins of your forebears, the dance is familiar chief. It is destiny.”

  It is not destiny, it is foolish. I will not start a war for a fuck; end of.

  Weary after setting Emma up for the night, I walk into my chambers when a loud purr calls me to my bed. The ragamuffin stretches, lifting her tail to pad soundlessly over my quilts, pawing at my jeans for me to lift her.

  “Hello Bella, why is your mommy sleeping in daddy bear's bed?” I whisper, giving her a chin scratch, distracted by Liah curled into a pillow, exposing the gun for all to see.

  Circling the bed quietly, I silently take off my bloodied shirt as I don't want to alarm her. Peering closer, inspecting her pale cheeks, it looks to me like she's been crying.

  What the hell happened now? I'm in just the right mood to crack open a few more skulls.

  Foul tempered, I shake her, “Deliah? What's the matter darling?”

  Brown eyes as dewy as a doe's open to engage my stare, her dilated pupils contracting against the light, when the waif jumps up to fling herself at me, clamping my neck with skinny arms and hiding her face in the crook, giving poor Arrabella enough of a fright to arch her back and crab-walk to the edge of the bed.

  “Liah?”

  I've expended energy this day to heal Emma and am not inclined to deplete my reserves to scavenge her mind for the details.
She can just tell me the old fashioned way.

  “Sweetheart, tell me what happened.”

  “Just...” she sniffs, pulling back from her noose tight grip to stare vulnerability up at me, kneeling on my bed, precious and pretty and far too lithe in those thigh hugging jeans. “I feel stupid now.”

  “It wasn't stupid if you decided the only safe place in my kingdom is the king's bed. Who threatened you?”

  “No one.” She sits down, her legs folded gracefully beneath her, curling her swan neck to stare up at me, “I... Ewan it's... it sounds .. seems stupid now, even to my own mind. I just had a little meltdown.”

  Sitting next to the sex kitten with the demure voice and sultry eyes, I fold my arms to stop myself from slamming her into the headboard and fucking her to Hel. “Meltdown?” I give a gruff frown, expecting an explanation.

  “You... uhm,” she clears her throat, reaching out and slipping her hand over mine in my arm fold, “I've been abandoned a lot. As a kid it broke me so many times I never thought I'd trust anyone again. Promises leave lips and just as fast hopes are crushed when vows are broken.”

  Finally I get what she's trying to say while keeping her pride intact. “You thought I might not return. You thought I'd leave you?”

  She nods, her little chin wobbling in a shaky exaggerated inhalation, poking pert tits in my naked flesh and forcing me to think for a moment of drowning romans to halt the primal urge pumping blood to the wrong head.

  Odin, this is getting too fucking complicated. I can't ignore my own nature forever. Odin was selfish and sybaritic, and I do believe the time has come for me to follow in my grandfather's footsteps.

  Unfolding my arms I snuggle the woman who is already in my bed, into my hold.

  “Would it make you feel better if I told you I can't die? None of us die. I'll always be here for you, poppet. Don't you fret. Even if Emma brings the mountain down on top of us I'll not meet my maker. Okay?”