Realm of Fate

by Kelly N. Jane

  If Ingrid could talk to Galwain, she could teach the queen how to block her mind. That might make Jarrick vulnerable, then he’d lose his grip on Ingrid’s powers. She and Galwain could escape together, and Ingrid could find a way to the Yggdrasil tree and bind the spell. Everything would be made right.

  Aguane applied kohl to Ingrid’s eyes, then held a hand mirror out for her to view the results. No longer in braids, Ingrid’s blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders in waves with some pulled back from her face to fasten at the back of her head with a golden clasp. It was hardly a practical style for battle, but Ingrid sat up a little taller and pulled her shoulders back. A woman, not a girl, reflected at her. Confident, prepared, and capable.

  Caelya had said she would go to court. As if she wasn’t a prisoner held against her will. So many people had underestimated her throughout her life. She stared at herself once more. Perhaps it would be easy to lull Jarrick into believing he controlled her. If he wanted her to become queen of his new regime, she’d play along. Her family was alive, and Galwain was nearby. Hope dared to prick at her heart.

  If she couldn’t defeat Jarrick in battle, she’d pull him down from within his own palace.

  8

  Jorg

  With Selby and Bremen distracted by the need to clean up from their fight, and probably have a word or two over it, Jorg slipped away. He hadn’t wanted to talk to Bremen, anyway. Selby could help deal with the Wilbert issue. As far as Jorg was concerned, the man was not his relation.

  He’d not gone five strides, however, when a familiar lumbering dwarf climbed over the embankment. With the gate destroyed, the only option to get in or out of the courtyard was to climb down and back up the steep grassy slope of the ditch outside the broken palisade wall. Jorg stopped and waited for Plintze.

  So much for some time to myself. It’s not like he minded being around Plintze. If anyone knew how to keep their words to a minimum, it was the dwarf. Besides, being back meant that he’d found and buried Lazuli. That had to be hard, and he’d done it alone. Jorg hoped he would never personally find out exactly how hard a job that was.

  They nodded at each other without exchanging words. Plintze tilted sideways and peered behind Jorg at where Selby and Bremen stood. Jorg didn’t bother to look over his shoulder; he knew what was happening. He thought sometimes that if he could stop himself from having exceptional hearing, he definitely would. They had apologized to each other and now found the fight amusing.

  “Do I need to know what that’s about?” Plintze asked.

  “Probably not, but you did miss the chance to see a decent fight. I’ve made a mental note to teach Selby a few things while we’re on our way to Swartaflheim. She almost had him there for a while.”

  “Humph. I’d have bet on her.” Crinkles showed around the edges of Plintze’s eyes.

  Jorg had not expected him to be capable of smiling for a long time. The little sprite had been fickle and challenging, but it was good to think he’d heal from the loss of his friend.

  Now that they were all back together, they needed to push Bremen to get going. Gavin was capable of doing the last of the preparations to get everyone on the boats back to Ireland.

  “I’m surprised everyone is still here. Why is it taking so long for them to leave?” Plintze asked.

  “Dwarves don’t hear others’ thoughts, do they?” Jorg chuckled under his breath, but he was only half joking.

  It wasn’t a thought he’d considered and didn’t know how comfortable he was with anyone reading his mind. Except for Ingrid. He’d have gladly let her into his head. Their connection, however, was only a one-way conversation, and the void of silence she’d left behind created a constant throb that pounded against his skull.

  “The delay is what started the whole storm between those two, actually. I was going to push Bremen to get moving faster when he decided to insult Selby.”

  “I don’t want to wait around. If they aren’t ready to go, they can try to catch up to us.”

  “Well said.” Jorg hadn’t dared let himself believe that Plintze would agree to leave without the other two. It felt like a flower bloomed in his chest, and he was ready to head out that moment. “Let’s go tell them now . . . or maybe not.”

  When Plintze furrowed his brows with a questioning look, Jorg pointed with a nod of his head toward where the gates once stood. Striding toward them with elegant steps, was Eir.

  A guttural growl came from Plintze’s chest, and Jorg couldn’t agree more. Where was the goddess earlier, before Jarrick had ripped Ingrid away?

  Why didn’t you show up to help?

  “I couldn’t interfere,” Eir said without a greeting when she arrived next to the duo.

  Jorg narrowed his eyes and studied the woman. This time, he fully believed his thoughts had been heard.

  Eir met his stare and didn’t flinch. “I taught Ingrid how to guard her thoughts. I can see I’ll have to do the same for you.”

  “You should have taught her how to return from being pulled through a portal,” Jorg said.

  With a shake of her head, Eir clasped her hands together and rested them in front of her. “We did work on how to make portals, and she’s quite good when it is within the same realm. Moving between realms is a skill that is not easily mastered. A simple mistake and she’d be lost forever in the gap between the realms. Not only would that be disastrous—but also irreversible. I have come because I have a plan that may get her back.”

  Jorg’s heart squeezed. If the goddess had a way to get Ingrid, perhaps it was better than going into the dwarven tunnels. The thought of which was unsettling if he was honest with himself.

  “There is a door to Alfheim from Svartalfheim,” Plintze said.

  “And if you use that, not only will you endanger yourselves to the point that you may never make it to Alfheim, you would also alert all the realms to Midgard’s weakened position. The giants would find that information very interesting. You know that your fellow countrymen will sell anything, including information if they can make a profit.” Eir cocked her brow at Plintze, and he nodded.

  There was no use trying to deny it. It was the biggest reason no one trusted the dwarves. They would double-cross anyone for the best profit. Everything had a price to them, and the highest bidder was the best type of friend.

  “Let’s go speak to those two.” Eir twisted her mouth in obvious distaste for either the appearance of Selby and Bremen, or the fact that they were now lost in their own world as they sat off to the side talking. Jorg guessed for the latter.

  The three approached the couple and stood just out of arm’s length without notice. Finally, Plintze made his customary grunt, and Selby turned in their direction.

  “Thank you, Plintze. If you two are quite finished ignoring everything around you, we need to discuss a plan to retrieve Ingrid,” Eir said with undisguised irritation in her voice.

  Bremen rose to his feet, offering a hand to Selby as he did. “We would be happy to hear your plans, and I hope they include the rescue of my mother as well.”

  “If that’s possible, of course. But Ingrid has to be the primary focus, or nothing else in any realm will matter.”

  The look on Bremen’s face was a mixture of frustration, respect, and concession. Jorg had already thought about what might happen if it came down to a choice between Ingrid or his mother. For him, the choice was obvious, though difficult. He understood Bremen’s emotional turmoil.

  The council chamber they’d used for meetings was destroyed in the dragon attack, as was most of the monastery, but a small room near the kitchen was still intact, and Bremen commandeered that for them to speak in private.

  The small room had a single bed, a small side table with a candle, and one hard-backed chair. With the five of them in the space, it became immediately claustrophobic to Jorg. He’d been on his way out to the forest when Plintze arrived. The small space was the opposite of what his nerves could handle.

  Selby and Bremen sat on th
e edge of the bed, leaving just enough room for Plintze as well. Jorg leaned against the wall, giving the chair to Eir. Before she sat, she turned to face him.

  “Can I see it?” She held her hand out to Jorg with a sad smile.

  He stared for a minute trying to decide if he would acknowledge that he knew what she wanted. Finally, he opened his palm, exposing the amber bead he still held.

  Gently, Eir took it from his hand and held it in the air between them. Jorg’s palm felt instantly cold and empty, like his heart.

  “When I gave this to Ingrid, I had imbued it so I could stay connected to her. I needed to know when her abilities began to manifest in order to train her.” Eir cupped both her hands around the bead and closed her eyes. She mumbled a few incoherent words and then brought her hands to her lips.

  Jorg couldn’t tell if she blew into her hands or sucked the air out, but he couldn’t move. He was transfixed on what happened before him. His heart pounded, his breath shallow as he watched. When Eir looked up, she met his gaze and stepped uncomfortably close to him. He leaned into the wall as far as he could, but then she blew into his face.

  Unable to move or blink, he felt the warm air wash over him. A fine mist formed and swirled around his vision. With a sudden gasp, the mist shot up his nose and into his mouth, temporarily choking him before dissolving into his body. A tingle spread throughout his chest, and he heaved several hard breaths before settling back into an easy rhythm.

  An empty space in his mind still existed where Ingrid’s voice had resided, but he no longer felt the pain. The throbbing headache faded away, and it almost made him dizzy with relief.

  “The bead will respond to you now. It will guide you in the direction you need to go to find her,” Eir said as she placed the bead back into Jorg’s palm.

  He couldn’t speak. His knees felt weak, and he had to blink back the sting of tears. Jorg could only nod, grateful for the wall at his back to keep him upright. Eir smiled and seemed to understand.

  When she turned to face the others, he realized the strength of her presence. She’d been Ingrid’s guide, and he’d forgotten to think of her as a goddess of Asgard. The power she wielded in the small quarters was palpable. From the wide eyes and motionless rigid spines of the other three, they’d felt it, too.

  “Now that’s out of the way. Let’s talk about why you should not go to Svartalfheim,” Eir said with a pointed stare at Plintze.

  9

  Ingrid

  Caelya returned and sullenly escorted Ingrid down several hallways made of cream-colored marble stone. It was impossible to memorize an escape route. She wanted to ask more questions about Jarrick’s castle and Galwain, but the princess seemed intent to hurry in silence.

  It took Ingrid two strides to match each of Caelya’s graceful steps as they sped through the halls. Caelya wore a flowing gown in the same style as Ingrid’s, but hers was deep green like the forest. It was regal and shimmered when she walked. The silver crown embedded with jewels that adorned her head created a total vision of elegance and royalty. Spirals of vines and leaves wove around and created small peaks with the largest centered at the front. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds nestled among the vines like beautiful thorns.

  Though Ingrid was sure they’d turned a different direction than they’d gone before, the halls all looked alike. Each had the same smooth stone, plush rugs, and occasional side table with decor that seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time. It was as if the halls themselves could disguise their appearance.

  When they finally made it to a door at the end of a hall, Caelya hesitated and appeared like she wanted to say something but changed her mind. Instead, she just flung open the door and ushered Ingrid through.

  They arrived in a large open area with a ceiling that soared overhead with golden arches forming a domed center. Golden sconces lined the walls of the circular room and silver torches were placed among lush potted greenery. The walls shimmered in the light, and the floor tiles shined like glass.

  Even with the soft, silken slippers on her feet, Ingrid was afraid to step through the sparkling chamber. In order to squelch her rising nerves, she asked about something that had been bothering her.

  “Have you stayed in contact with Galwain? Is that how you know she’s been in hiding—and about Bremen?” Ingrid’s curiosity burst out. She needed to know how the princess knew so much about Galwain’s life.

  “I have not heard from her in many years.” Caelya glanced over her shoulder as she walked in front of Ingrid. “But—I have spoken with her since her return.”

  Ingrid nodded. That made sense. More than the concern she had that Caelya was somehow a spy for Jarrick.

  “Come, this way,” Caelya coaxed in a low voice. “We should arrive before the others.”

  Ingrid followed in a daze as she gawked at all the beauty. Even though everything had been unfamiliar since she’d arrived, it was the first time she’d truly felt like she was in a different realm. She scoffed at herself because after all she’d seen, the room before her was what surprised her? She’d been surrounded by new sights, beings, and even the air was different. Yet, somehow, this room made it all real to her. She was on Alfheim—probably forever.

  They left the grand hall and entered a smaller room. There were many softly cushioned chairs set around. Some looked to be for one person, and some were built for several to sit on in groups. There were even a couple small tables that had game boards on them, at the ready to play. As with every other room, a large fireplace took the space of one wall, with ornately carved stone surrounding it.

  Ingrid shivered though the room was at a perfectly comfortable temperature. There were no flames, but the sight of it still forced her to shove away the memories of dragon fire.

  She turned away quickly, looking anywhere other than the fireplace, and noticed there were no tables for dining. As she took in the sights, two creatures—she didn’t know how else to think of them—entered the room through a simple side door.

  Each wore a white tunic covered by a long black jacket that split in the back to reveal the tail of a deer. Ingrid’s gaze trailed down two slender legs covered in tawny fur that ended with delicate cloven hooves, yet each held a silver tray with arms and hands of a man. Their faces were also that of a man, but with a small cleft in their upper lips that blended into their nose. Finally, poking through their hair were soft, deer-like ears that stood alert.

  “Fauns, my dear,” Caelya whispered next to Ingrid’s ear, snapping her attention to the floor. “They would prefer you didn’t stare but would be happy to offer you something to drink.”

  Ingrid glanced up at Caelya who clearly enjoyed Ingrid’s discomfort. “I’m not thirsty, thank you.” She used her most polite voice and smiled. The opulent surroundings had mesmerized her, but she needed to remember why she was there. She was a prisoner, being used in a game by those who thought she was weak and controllable.

  “No one will poison you. Everything is safe.”

  “And you are the one I’m to trust? The one who helps make sure I stay caged for Jarrick?”

  Caelya moved her gaze to the ceiling and exhaled sharply. It gave Ingrid momentary satisfaction.

  “I’m impressed at your bravado, however, your distrust of me is unfounded. At least, for tonight.” Caelya’s mouth twitched as she fought a grin.

  There was something in the gleam of her eye that made Ingrid accept her words as truth. Caelya could work with Jarrick, but she wasn’t lying. At least, it didn’t seem so. Perhaps some food and drink would help her stay strong and keep her wits.

  When a faun approached her with a tray of slender chalices, she accepted one with a smile. The faun nodded back and winked. She stared as it—he, she?—tip-toed away with quick steps. The chalice was half filled with a bubbly rose-colored liquid that had a subtle floral scent.

  Hesitantly, she lifted it to her lips and took a tiny sip. The bubbles tingled on her tongue, and the sweet apple-like flavor practically eva
porated before she could swallow. It was delicious, but she waited to drink any more until she let it settle to see what happened.

  As she and Caelya waited in the room, it filled with more elegantly attired elves. Both male and female who drank freely from the faun’s trays and chatted politely among themselves. No one approached Ingrid though she’d caught all of them sneak peeks in her direction. No matter, she didn’t want to know them either. Galwain was the only person she wanted to see. Hopefully, she’d arrive soon.

  Ingrid wandered to the edge of the room. Several rows of books sat on shelves next to one of the game tables. She roved over the titles, somewhat amused at how many appeared to be stories of romance. Then one simply titled, Herian, snagged her attention. It was one of the numerous identities of Odin. Curious what the elves might say about the god of Asgard, Ingrid started to reach for the tome but stopped herself. A sensation of being watched skittered across the back of her neck.

  Peeking over her shoulder, she found Caelya watching her with a curious expression. Perhaps she should wait for another time to read. Caught in the midst of her indecision, she gasped and forgot everything when she spied the next individual to arrive.

  A man strode through the doorway. The one she’d seen speaking with Jarrick. Urkon—the dark arts master who wanted her dead!

  10

  Jorg

  Plintze squirmed as Eir stared at him. It made little sense to Jorg why she focused on the dwarf. It wasn’t like he was leading any of them to his homeland without a clear understanding of the dangers. She acted like he had a hidden motive.

  “We need to get to Alfheim, and that’s the best way we’ve heard. Do you have any other ideas?” Jorg said. He expected it would draw Eir’s stare to him, but she stayed focused on the dwarf.