“Wait, what?” Imorean frowned, still confused.
Gabriel called back. “Like an alcove!”
“Exactly. Yggdrasil and its forest act like filters for supernatural energy. A normal human can walk these sites without seeing anything extraordinary and without ever being able to pass into one of these alcoves. An angel, demon or other paranormal being will see the way into Odin’s world.”
Imorean pulled his wing from a strong thermal. “So, we just pass through? Anyone supernatural can get in?”
“Oh, no,” said Michael, smiling. “No. Odin’s entrances and exits are heavily guarded. He would not let Vortigern’s forces inside.”
“They don’t like each other?”
“They hate each other,” replied Michael, swooping up and dodging an eddy. “The angels have always had a good relationship with the Norse gods. We have helped them in the past. They are part of the reason that we chose to build some of our schools here.”
Imorean flexed one wing, holding firm against the strong headwind. “I don’t get it. It’s not sacrilegious to have the Norse gods as allies? Didn’t you say they’re demons?”
“Oh, they are,” nodded Michael. “But they are also good allies and they are not a threat at current. Odin and his group have come to our aid before, just as we have come to theirs. There is nothing wrong with having an alliance, Imorean.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Chest aching and wings throbbing, Imorean groaned as he and the others descended. He could smell the needles of spruce and pine below. He flared his wings open wide, as wide as he could push them, to break his fall. Michael landed first. Imorean landed just a few seconds behind him. More thuds followed as Raphael and Gabriel landed, too. Imorean looked around the forest for anything unusual.
“Looks like a forest to me,” said Imorean.
“How observant,” sighed Michael. “Our presence here must first be acknowledged, which may take a while. In the meantime, Gabriel, set up some watches for the night. Raphael, you can help me make camp.”
“And me?” asked Imorean.
“Scout. Establish a perimeter. Report back with anything odd.”
Imorean narrowed his eyes as Michael turned to him with a grin and shrugged. It always set him on edge when Michael, not given to smiling, smiled at all. With a suspicious frown, Imorean pushed his tired wings down hard and leaped back up into the air. He circled over the others a few times and breathed deeply. He loved the smell of pine. It reminded him of home. A bittersweet smile crept over his face and he circled outward, setting up a boundary. Just as he was winging his way back, he heard something that chilled his blood. A howl echoed from over the mountains, cold and menacing. Immediate panic. Hellhounds! How could they be here? Imorean shot back down to the ground. They had to get out of here!
“Michael!” shouted Imorean, landing hard on the dark earth. Michael was crouched on the ground, piling a few pieces of kindling together.
“What is it?” asked Michael nonchalantly, rocking back on his heels.
Imorean swallowed and calmed his voice enough to speak. “Hellhounds. Didn’t you hear them?”
“Relax,” said Gabriel, pulling on a hammock string. “Those aren’t Hellhounds. Not really. It’s a wolf. He’s just part of the world of the Norse gods. Pay him no mind.”
“Okay …” breathed Imorean. Again, that terrible howl sailed over the mountains. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” said Michael. “Gabriel, do we have a watch rotation?”
“‘Course we do.”
“Good. We will be needing it. Imorean, go ahead and get some rest.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Imorean stood in fog. It crept around him, curling and writhing as though it was alive. He held himself still and kept his breathing quiet. He swallowed, terrified to even let the faintest bit of sound out of his mouth. A thud heralded movement away to his right and he tensed, ready to flee.
“Imorean, is that you?”
Slowly, Imorean turned. He knew that voice. He had lived with that voice for almost a year. “Toddy?”
“Help me,” begged Toddy, his voice little more than a whimper. “Please, Imorean, you’ve got to get me out of here.”
“Where are you? I swear, I’ll find you, but I have to know where. Tell me where to find you!”
Toddy shook his head. Imorean stood taller. The fog was closing between them.
“Toddy, please! Toddy! Come back! Toddy!” shouted Imorean, pushing through the fog. It was thicker now. It darkened as it closed around him. The vapor was impossible to see through. He broke into a run, but running was like dragging his legs through concrete. The world tilted and he fell, spinning down, down, down into darkness. As the world dissolved, something green flickered in the shadows.
Desperation seizing him, Imorean opened his wings, but they were useless. He landed hard on something firm. Something strange yet oddly familiar. He looked down. In this darkened world, all he could see was the vague color and outline. It was something wide, flat and oddly fleshy. He looked over one shoulder. Curving up high above him, like trees, were fingers. Massive, angry eyes and a haggard face leered at him from the darkness. Long tendrils of hair masked the woman’s face and her voice rasped monstrously.
“You’ll never find him. He’s ours.”
With that, the fingers curled down and Imorean found himself powerless to run, to move, to even breathe.
Chapter 9
“Imorean, wake up.”
Imorean shuffled. He knew he heard his name, but he didn’t want to wake up. After hours of terror, the dreams had left him in peace. He was free for a few short hours.
“Imorean.”
He pulled his blankets over his head. He wanted to be left alone. His eyes flew open as his hammock swayed wildly. He cried out, flailing for a moment, before landing hard in the leaf litter on the forest floor. Angry, he thrashed and turned, facing his disturber. Green eyes glared back at him. Imorean stood. He should have known.
“Rise and shine. Your watch runs from now until dawn.”
Imorean pulled on a jacket. There was a chill in the air this morning. “You’re not going to stay awake with me?”
Michael’s brows rose. “My watch is over. I do not believe you want dormant company.”
Imorean shrugged and opened his AL Pack. He was glad of the Pack’s design and its ability to fit heavy, overlarge or cumbersome things inside it. Slowly, he withdrew his sword. Even under the low firelight, it looked lethal.
“Big task to assign me,” said Imorean, settling on the ground next to the fire. Michael snorted and sat next to him.
“We trust you. We only ask that you do the same for us.”
“Yeah,” said Imorean, looking up at the stars again. Already, they were growing dimmer overhead. He stiffened as Michael moved. Green feathers shuffled as Michael lay down and cocooned himself under his own wings. Imorean paused and studied him. He knew already that Michael wouldn’t sleep – Archangels didn’t sleep – but he would go dormant for a few hours. What he did in those few hours, Imorean wasn’t sure. All the same, he smiled, glad of the company. As he turned his attention back to the world around them, he chuckled, taking in Michael’s resting position. He had done the same thing to keep warm during his time alone in Iceland. He shook himself, not wanting his thoughts to return to that place. He rested his sword across his lap and stared into the dark forest surrounding them. Perhaps this pattern of thought was inevitable. His thoughts turned to Vortigern, the demon who had ruined his life. Where was Vortigern now? Where was Toddy? Were they together? Had Vortigern dumped Toddy somewhere to die? Imorean didn’t know which would be worse. He blinked hard, staring into the dark. In the pitch, something moved. Imorean started and leaned forward. Something was out there. He stood up, gripping his still-sheathed sword tight. He was ready to use it if he had to. Brown eyes flicked to the side as a few twigs snapped. He drew his sword, throwing the scabbard to the ground, and strained into the darkness. Seco
nds passed. No movement. A whisper stirred the treetops. An owl hooted twice. Imorean could hear the tiny crackle of a beetle’s legs on a dead leaf. All his senses were on high alert. Minutes passed. No more sound. No more movement. Silence. Imorean lowered his sword back to his side. Maybe his own mind had been deceiving him, playing tricks in the dark. Then, the world came alive. There was a loud stamp nearby. Imorean snarled and raised his sword again. He turned, searching blindly. A moment later came a sound that he barely recognized. The disgruntled snorting of a horse. Then, the voices. All around, the forest trembled, thousands of voices whispering over each other. Words that Imorean couldn’t make out. The voices echoed, as though spoken down a tunnel, long past words or words from a future long to come. The world spun. Imorean’s vision swirled and his legs went weak. He had to make this stop!
White wings flashed up, flaring out wide. The tiniest glimmer of white light caught in his peripherals. The voices fell silent. The scuffling animals stilled. Even the faint breeze overhead died down. Imorean’s vision cleared. He looked up. The first fingers of rosy dawn were working their way across the sky. But how? He had only been standing a matter of minutes. He looked at his watch. Had he lost time? Two hours had passed in little more than a blink.
“The forest here plays tricks.”
Imorean looked over his shoulder. Michael was sitting half up, propped on an elbow.
“What happened?”
“Yggdrasil and the Norse gods have decided we are welcome in their realm. Come on. Help me get Raphael and Gabriel on their feet. We still have ground to cover.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Gabriel acted as the windbreaker today. Imorean could see him fighting and straining against the headwind. Below them was a wide fjord, water unnaturally blue. Beyond them were more mountains. As yet, Imorean had seen no sign of any other life.
“Listen!” shouted Michael from the second position. The pace slowed. “Remember, be respectful to Odin. Imorean, it would be best if you said little or nothing. We have only one shot at this, and there is no room for error.”
“We’ve got this,” said Gabriel, dropping out of the windbreaker position and swooping under Michael.
“I am just saying that we must exercise caution. Imorean –”
Raphael interrupted. “Michael! We’ve got Valkyries!”
Michael tore to the head of the formation. Imorean gained a little altitude to see over the others. Approaching them was a large group of women and … Imorean narrowed his eyes. Were those horses? Flying horses?
“Keep swords in scabbards,” snapped Michael, his voice low and serious. “We need to pose as little threat as possible. Remember, we are friendly with the Norse gods, and we do not need to upset that relationship.”
Michael slowed them into a hover. Imorean tensed. The women were coming in fast, and they did not show any sign of being friendly. His hand itched to land on his sword. He took a deep breath and tried to push away his growing sense of fear. Then, the women arrived. Hooting, hollering and whooping, they circled the Archangels. Imorean glanced at Michael. He felt trapped. He wanted to fly, to get out of here.
Michael’s voice cut clear across the front of his mind. ‘Relax. This is a greeting.’
“Eir!” shouted Michael, silencing the Valkyries. “Is this any way to greet a patrol of Seraphim?”
One of the Valkyries broke away from the others. Mounted on a bright bay horse, Imorean was struck by her beauty. Her face was hard and chiseled, blonde hair cascading back over her shoulders, her body lithe and athletic. Everything about her exuded boldness and strength.
“Archangel Michael,” she said. Imorean had to shake himself. Her voice was smooth as water over stones. “It has been so long. I almost didn’t recognize you. Tell me, why you have come. Was that proud, lonely heart of yours yearning for the company of a woman?”
The Valkyries burst into laughter. Their merriment was contagious, and Imorean couldn’t help but feel the humor of the moment. He glanced at Michael. Unsmiling. Unamused.
“You are more beast than woman, Eir,” said Michael. The Valkyries quieted. Eir advanced on Michael. Imorean held his breath. The air felt thick with tension. They were outnumbered three to one. If a fight broke out … Michael stuck out his wing and brushed primaries with Eir’s horse.
“I am glad to see that you haven’t lost your sense of humor, Seraph,” said Eir. A grin split her face.
“And I you, Valkyrie,” replied Michael.
“What brings you here?” asked Eir, backing her horse away. Imorean stared at the beast. It was massive, bigger than any horse he had ever seen. Its eyes were deep and intelligent, and its entire body rippled with power. What held Imorean’s gaze, though, were the beast’s wings. Bigger and far more powerful than his own, they supported the horse in the air against all logic.
“We must talk to Odin,” said Michael. “Can you take us to him?”
“There was no need for you to come all this way, Michael. Odin would oblige you near anything.”
“I know. But in this instance, I must talk to him face-to-face.”
“Then so you shall. Gather your brothers and follow us.”
Chapter 10
A warm thermal rose under Imorean’s wings and pushed him higher into the sky as he followed Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Eir, the other Valkyries over a mountain ridge and into a valley below. The midafternoon sun had lit the world properly. Imorean’s mouth opened. In the valley, taking up all available space, sprawled a city. Buildings were spaced beautifully and offered an aesthetic feel. Longhouses adorned with ornate wood carvings marked hubs of activity within the city. Tiny figures of people were walking, roaming the streets. The city was built on an island and surrounded by water, flanked by mountains. In the very center of the island was a huge hall, the largest and highest building in the city.
“Valhalla,” said Gabriel, slipping into place next to Imorean. “Central focus for us is that giant mead hall there.”
Imorean looked back at the central hall. Already, a few of the Valkyries were breaking free of the group, tearing toward the building. The front portion of it appeared to be made entirely of wood, except for the base, which was stone. Then Imorean’s jaw dropped. The rest of the structure rose up behind it, big enough to be another building entirely. Almost a city in itself.
“Fun fact,” said Gabriel, tipping his wings. “Valhalla’s main hall has a total of five hundred and forty doors.”
“What?” spluttered Imorean, tilting his wings as they began to descend.
“The place is massive. We’ll only be perching in an antechamber for a while.”
“Odin will be awaiting your arrival in there,” said Eir, pulling her horse to a halt. Imorean fell in beside Michael. Gabriel drew up on Michael’s other side.
Raphael spoke once they were out of range of the Valkyries. “How long are we going to be here?”
Michael didn’t falter for a second. “As long as it takes, Raphael.”
Imorean stumbled half a step as they touched down on the rough stone. An entrance porch. Two Valkyries stood ahead of them, hands on the great, iron door handles. Michael turned and tapped the hilts of his swords. “Give them to me. We do not want to cause any undue tension.”
Imorean reached back, but hesitated at the last moment. He hated the idea of going into demon territory without his weapon. Michael extended one hand toward him.
“Do as I have said. Give me your sword,” said Michael, his voice cutting clear and cold across the front of Imorean’s mind. His wings flinched. He could hear icy tension in Michael’s voice. Imorean pulled his sword free of its scabbard and passed it to Michael, watching as five angel blades were handed to Eir. They were all unarmed.
“Look after these,” Michael said with a tiny smile.
“With my life,” replied Eir. “Go. Odin is waiting.”
Imorean watched in silence as Michael shook himself, stood straighter and flared his wings away from his body. He looked bigger, t
aller and more impressive. Quickly, Imorean glanced at Raphael and Gabriel as they gathered up behind Michael in the diamond formation they had used in the air. Both mirrored Michael, taking on a dominant posture. Imorean took a deep breath, pulled himself to his full height and elevated his chin, trying not to think about how much smaller than them he was. He widened his wings, careful not to look at the black scars on his feathers.
It was cool inside the hall. Imorean’s heart seemed to beat too loud in his chest. On both sides of the hall were rows of great, long tables filled with people. All faces craned toward the Archangels in their midst. Imorean kept his eyes on Michael. He looked neither to the right nor to the left, as though in a world of his own. There was something admirable about it. Imorean’s ears caught a low buzz of noise. Whispers. Barely audible over the tattoo beat of their footsteps, but whispers all the same. Michael ascended a set of steps and came to a halt. Gabriel flared out to his right, and Raphael stopped on Michael’s left.
“Go left,” ordered Michael. Imorean halted next to Raphael and finally took the opportunity to look around. From his peripherals, Imorean spotted shields and spears forming the ceiling. An inordinate amount of food set the table just ahead of them. A great set of double doors were barely visible behind the table’s seats, each of which were filled. Slowly, Imorean’s eyes roved over each of the figures. Men, women, warriors. All eyes were on him and the Archangels. Finally, a man in the center of the table stood. He was dressed in a simple, green tunic, with a pale, blue cloak draped over his shoulders. Imorean noticed a heartbeat later that he had only one eye. Complete silence fell.
“Hello, Odin,” said Michael, nodding slowly.
“Welcome, Seraph,” replied Odin.
Imorean finally turned his head as Michael extended one hand across the table and clasped Odin’s like a brother.
“Sit,” said Odin, opening his arms. “Eat, drink. You know you are welcome at our table.”
Angels Falling Page 6
