by Renée Jaggér
The werewitch could barely see. Though her ward kept her safe from the lightning, it created an enormous amount of visual interference. She conjured another pair of deflective shields ahead of her and off to the sides, then seized control of three of Freya’s bolts.
One she sent straight ahead at the goddess. The other two she tossed at angles, so they ricocheted off the shields before streaking toward Freya’s flanks.
The goddess seemed surprised by the tactic, but she blocked or neutralized the bolts with ease and took another step forward, summoning a gale-force windstorm laden with sharp fragments of diamond and steel.
Bailey tried to push forward, using a thick shield in front of her to block and reflect the onslaught, but there was too much of it—too much raw power. She summoned another ward to guard her against kinetic impact, which she hoped would work for both blasts of concussive force and the blows of flying solid objects.
Freya advanced, arms undulating as she summoned strange animal specters to lunge at Bailey while surgically precise blades of arcanoplasm began to carve apart her shields, opening gaps through which a killing strike could be delivered.
For a moment, the girl despaired. Fighting Freya was like struggling against the wrath of nature as directed by a witch with more knowledge and experience than she could fathom.
Bailey tried opening the necessary channel to ground and drain the goddess, but she could not get through the constant magical assaults. Soon, Freya would overwhelm her.
“Goddammit!” she grated, wracking her brain and bolstering her courage. She remembered her four-way duel with Carl.
A duplicate image of herself appeared right on top of her to disguise which one was real, then she and the illusion stepped in opposite directions behind the fragmenting shield. She doubled and quadrupled the illusion, and as she started conjuring a new shield, her clones did likewise.
Freya pressed ahead, filling the air with a chaos of elements combined with subtle psionic efforts to weaken her opponent, but now the goddess strove against five enemies instead of one. Bailey directed two of her doubles to begin attacking the goddess with looping arcs of lightning, horizontal waves of plasma, and whirlwinds of ice and fire.
Freya paused, needing an instant to grasp the nature of the changes in the battle, and it gave Bailey enough time. Barely enough.
She imagined once again a tendril emerging from her forehead to shoot out and plant itself in Freya’s heart. At the same time, she envisioned roots growing from her legs into the ground, connecting her to the substance of the divine realm, which would absorb bled-off magical energy like a giant sponge beneath a leaky faucet.
The lady of witchcraft gasped audibly, and the greenish light of her eyes wavered as the tendril struck true. She knew what was happening.
“No,” Freya raged. “You will not do to me what you did to Aradia! I’m many times stronger than she was, and not constrained by the pact.”
Bailey could feel the goddess’ incredible power flowing out and through her, noticing she absorbed some of it herself. The store of it was so vast that it would take time to weaken her to the point of destruction.
Freya still had plenty of time in which to kill her.
Pressurized lances of poisoned water and acid sprouted from the goddess, moving slowly at first, then increasing their speed as they advanced, their courses irregular and impossible to predict. The shields blocked most of them, but Bailey was unable to maintain enough mental control over one of her illusions to have it repair its barrier in time, and the deadly projectiles blasted the double into fading fragments of light.
The ground beneath Bailey’s feet melted, turning to boiling liquid, but she blocked the heat and conjured a sheet of crystal below her, jumping up to land on it just as it came into existence. Her clones did likewise, one of them continuing to harry Freya with meteor-like fireballs.
The five other gods watched the battle with intense expressions, but none spoke or intervened.
Bailey felt as though every nerve and synapse were on fire and supercharged with caffeine. The arcane might of the rival goddess was nearly impossible to channel without panicking at the magnitude of it, but she’d done this before. The process was the same as with Aradia, only more so, and her clones were automated well enough to provide limited cover and protection.
Still, if Freya didn’t weaken soon...
The goddess went to one knee, the indignity of it contrasting with her beauty and haughty demeanor, and the strength of her attacks ebbed.
Behind their protective wall, the quintet began discussing what they watched.
“Incredible,” Balder remarked, “to see Freya unleash the full force of her abilities. Bailey has demonstrated impressive control to have resisted her.”
“Aye,” Thor agreed. “And she’s grounded her! An ugly sight, but we all knew it might happen.”
“Clever,” said Coyote. “Bailey can’t match her in raw strength, which has pushed her to use her skills in innovative ways.”
Thoth stroked his chin. “There are wisdom and recklessness on both sides, but sometimes, both are needed.”
Loki said nothing. He leaned forward, however, watching the duel with gleeful interest and paying particular attention to the way Bailey grew stronger as Freya grew weaker.
The power of another goddess would soon be hers.
The two combatants had taken to roaring and screaming, trying to intimidate the other with primitive rage despite the careful control they imposed on their complex magical attacks and defenses. Freya conjured two clones of her own to help her, but Bailey directed her doubles to shift into wolf form, tackle them, and destroy them.
And the tide turned. Freya stumbled back, face drawn and pale, on a defensive footing now as Bailey assaulted her with increasingly massive blasts of magic. All the while, the werewitch bled her essence to power her own spells or dissipated it into the fabric of the universe.
“No,” Freya said again, but this time it was a pleading gasp. “No, this cannot happen!”
Bailey stomped forward, battering aside the goddess’s weakening attacks. The portion of Freya’s magic she’d absorbed had replenished her stamina, and she felt like she could crush Freya underfoot like a bug.
The goddess fell onto her hands and knees, looking less like a deity than like a simple mortal woman who’d lost the strength to resist anything.
Bailey stopped. Rage boiled within her; anger at the supercilious nastiness of the gods and Freya in particular, exasperation at the unnecessary conflicts and all the hoops she’d had to jump through. Part of her wanted to snuff the goddess out and make an example of her.
But what kind of example would that set?
The girl drew in a breath and dispelled her illusions and storming attacks. She kept her shields up in case Freya tried a last-ditch attack, but she stopped fighting.
“I win,” Bailey stated. “I could destroy you if I wanted to. The rules would allow it. But I’d rather not. Instead...” She thought of something, “It might be best if you teach me what I need to know as a witch-goddess, like how Fenris is showing me how to minister to wolves. Show me what it takes to sit in your chair, if only for a while.”
Freya’s luminous eyes widened as her mouth slowly fell open. The anger and hostility seemed to be melting away from her. She was shocked, but not in a bad way.
Thoth stood up from his throne. “It is done. Bailey won the duel, and has chosen to spare Freya, meaning that she will, as previously agreed, have the opportunity to return to her seat on this council when the time is right.”
The other gods stood, joining the Egyptian, and the next to speak was Balder.
“Bailey,” he said in his soft voice, “thank you for allowing my sister to live. We were confident in your growing wisdom and talent. Now we are confident in your compassion and mercy as well.”
Thor grunted with approval. “Yes. ‘Tis true that by rights, you could have killed her under the formal rules of a mortal duel, yet y
ou chose the higher-handed way of doing things. I’d rather not lose her either, even if at times she needs to cool her head.”
Coyote concurred. “The point was made; destroying Freya would have served no purpose, only left a great wound in the cosmos where she’d been. There is much she can teach the werewitch. This will be best for us all.”
The only deity who declined to comment was Loki. He sat in calm, collected silence, his palms held together before him, smiling a faint smile that was rich with secret amusements.
Bailey wiped her brow, and as she brushed away the sweat, it was as though she were casting off the worst of the fears and anxieties she’d built up through the ordeal. She’d somehow known that the peace and security she’d purchased by defeating Aradia wouldn’t last and a new challenge would emerge. Winning over half a dozen ancient gods was something she’d by no means been certain about.
Despite being a goddess.
Freya climbed to her feet; she seemed weak and tired. “I,” she breathed, pausing, “accept this outcome. Perhaps I judged you too harshly, Bailey Nordin. I should have been more careful and thoughtful. I own up to that. For now, I offer you my seat on the council, and I will give you my advice if you’ll have it.”
“I will.” Bailey smiled. “Thank you, and I’m glad things turned out the way they did.”
The seven figures stood in a circle then and clasped hands to seal the deal. Everyone agreed to immediately conduct the rite that would welcome Bailey onto the council.
Thoth smiled with surprising warmth. “The initiation ceremony is less intense than you might think,” he explained, “though you should find it satisfactory. The idea is to remind the initiate of the importance of her responsibilities rather than to dazzle her with her importance, you see.”
Bailey nodded. “Yeah, makes sense. I won’t lie; I’m happy I’ve made it this far. But Fenris taught me well, and I know that this is about other people and the good of the world, not about me getting the chance to strut in front of everyone.”
A jeweled chest appeared, and Balder opened it and took out golden scepters, which he passed out to almost everyone. Bailey did not get one, but Thoth got two. The five who sat on the council lined up before their seats and spoke of their long vigil over the world and its inhabitants, and their mission to ensure that wisdom prevailed throughout all the spheres of existence.
Freya stood aside and watched, pained but accepting, as Bailey stepped forward and accepted one of the scepters from Thoth.
The Egyptian god stated, “Sit in your place and know that your duties are only beginning. You have our trust, but also the burden of our expectations.”
She sat in the chair. “I understand.”
The seat was comfortable. Looking out across the chamber, she felt no different, really. She was pretty sure she could get used to this.
Freya sat in the great chair of roots and vines, perfectly grown to accommodate her lithe shape, which dominated her personal quarters adjacent to the main council room. The entire chamber resembled a large and elaborate cottage, or perhaps a temple built into the base of a tree in a dense northern forest.
Yet it was clean and orderly and decorated with a variety of arcane artifacts. Green and brown and silver predominated. A subtle sound wafted on the air, like that of a breeze moving between leaves, with the occasional rustle of wooden wind chimes. There was no fireplace, but weather magic kept the temperature on the cusp between cool and warm.
The goddess leaned forward, her face in her hands, her silver-green dress torn and dirtied by the fight against the girl. Noticing this, she flicked a finger. The dress cleaned and repaired itself.
Four quick taps sounded on the door. “Who is that? Loki?” She doubted anyone else would knock that way.
The wooden portal swung inward. “Of course,” her brother reassured her, stepping in nimbly on his long, lean legs, his black hair flapping back from his face.
Freya looked at him with a steady expression of mild distaste, mostly at having been disturbed.
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes flashed green with what remained of her sorcerous power. “And did you expect Bailey to triumph the way she did? You were curiously silent during the trials and the vote. And my duel against her.”
Loki closed the door behind him and moved with light footwork deeper into the room, approaching the chair where the goddess rested.
“No,” he admitted, “I had no idea how things would turn out. None of us, despite our knowledge and power, can predict the future with perfect accuracy. Any time we think we’ve done so, an unexpected variable arises and the whole course of the timeline shifts, taking us into uncharted territory before we can collate enough information to make another prediction.”
The lady of witchcraft responded with a weary smile. “Of course. Such is the way of things. I could not have anticipated that the girl would win and then spare me. Perhaps she has potential worth developing, after all.”
Loki nodded.
“But,” Freya continued, “why have you come to speak to me? I would be a fool to assume it was to check on me or offer comfort. You always have a motive, albeit sometimes one that is incomprehensible to the rest of us.”
Loki took a few more steps toward her. “Correct. I’ve come because I cannot allow you to move in and begin counseling, training, and mentoring Bailey.”
She sat up straight, alert, the mantle of weariness thrown from her and forgotten.
“What do you mean?” she snapped. “I may be off the council, but I am still a goddess. I have more right to advise her than Fenris does, certainly. What is your plan, Loki?”
He advanced one more step, then stopped. “To remove all potential opposition,” he stated.
Freya’s face went ashen as the fact of her weakened state struck her. It loomed between them, obvious in the face of an open threat. “You wanted me off the council, was that it? Well, you’ve succeeded. Now, leave! You have no reason to be here.”
“Yes, I do,” he replied. Then he changed.
Instead of the slim, compact man, smirking, smooth-faced, and black-haired, the figure before her was another, equally familiar. A taller, bulkier, and more grizzled man, with broad shoulders and a hood obscuring his craggy features.
Both gods cried out, speaking no words, only primal screams as magic crackled and the visitor pounced on his host.
Freya was greater in sorcery than Fenris, but Bailey had depleted her powers and left her weakened. The wolf-father’s magic brushed hers aside, and his strong body, becoming bestial as he changed into his lupine form, crashed into hers. Wood splintered as the chair shattered, and the two deities tumbled to the floor.
The witch-goddess lay twisted and half-broken beneath the bulk of her snarling brother, her eyes rolling in crazed terror and rage. Blood streamed down her face.
“I know what you’re planning!” she shrieked, trying to claim a shred of triumph by flinging the accusation in his face. “Bastard! You mean to eliminate us all, to remove the safeguard we represent. To leave the doors open for Ragnarök. You fool!”
The huge wolf-monster grinned and drooled as he pressed down on her. “Yes,” Fenris affirmed. “You are correct, except in thinking that I am a fool. Time will prove otherwise, but you will not be around to see it.”
His jaws lashed out and snapped shut, the knife-like teeth shearing through flesh and bone.
Then the chamber fell silent. The beast heaved himself to his feet, already shifting back into the form of a tall man, and the hood of his coat regrew itself over his shaggy head.
He let out a long, shaky breath. “So it is done,” he intoned. “You were never worthy to sit on the council, Freya. I will find some excuse for what’s happened to you. The others have not yet missed Loki, and after all the trouble you caused with your pompousness and hotheaded choices, they will miss you even less.”
Fenris turned away from the body of his sister and strode out of the room, allowing the wooden door to fall sh
ut behind him.
Moments passed, and the sounds of the wolf-god’s departure faded. The breeze and chimes were no more. Total quiet returned.
But not for long.
A dry, snickering laugh, low and sardonic, rose from the floor. The body it emanated from rose as well. It no longer resembled a woman, however. The inhabitant of the room had become a lean black-haired man.
“Nice try, Fenris,” Loki whispered. He spread his hands, opened a portal of glimmering purple light, and stepped through it.
Chapter Sixteen
Someone knocked on the door.
Jacob rose from the couch. “I’ll get it,” he grumbled.
“Thanks,” Kurt quipped. “I mean, it’s not like you have anything intelligent to say when baseball is the only sport on TV, right? ‘Oh, the guy swung and missed. He’s going to strike out if he misses again. Yup.’”
“Don’t make me...strike you out,” Jacob muttered in a tired voice, then cursed.
Bailey squinted, and Russell leaned close to her. “Jacob was up late last night, trying to find out if anyone had heard from you. He’s not his usual self.”
“I guess not,” his sister responded. “He didn’t even throw anything at Kurt’s head.”
Behind and to the side of her, Fenris stood leaning against the wall. He’d reappeared a short while after Bailey had been inducted into the council and Thoth had explained the basics to her, saying that with the council’s permission, it was time to go home.
No one had voiced any objections, least of all Bailey.
Jacob reached the front door and pulled it open.
“Hi,” said Roland. “What’d I miss?”
Bailey looked up, biting down on a broad smile. “Everything. The hell were you off doing, anyway?”
The wizard snorted and stepped in, briefly greeting Jacob before joining the rest in the living room. “Everything. And you missed all of it.”
She laughed, not feeling like maintaining the charade of teasing him. Instead, she stood up to wrap her arms around his neck. They exchanged a quick kiss, nothing too elaborate so as not to embarrass her brothers.
