Destined (Desolation #3) Page 14

Before closing my eyes I saw the sky alight with bright streams as Valkyrie and shi’lil rained arrows down on the enemies surrounding us. When I Became I let the good and the bad fill every part of me, embracing all that I was. All I was created to be.

  A Svart dove for me, his mouth opening in a soundless scream, revealing two rows of sharpened teeth. He raised his weapon above his head, its blade gleaming in my golden light. I thrust my staff forward and blocked his arm, spinning three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around to my left, catching him on the side of the head with my boot. He fell to the ground. I kicked his sword out of the way before slamming the butt of my staff against his head.

  I had barely lifted my weapon before another Svart dove low and tried to thrust his blade upward into my stomach. I shoved my knee into his sternum at the same time as I slammed each side of his head with my fists.

  I spun again, slicing the edge of my right wing through the chest of a Svart attacking Fahria. As I rotated I saw the scene behind me—the press of fiery Giants and Michael shining glorious in their midst, wielding his sword like a whirling dervish.

  But my sisters and I were pressed on all sides by the icy Svarts and there was little time to consider my love and how he fared. I had to trust we hadn’t come this far to be torn apart now.

  Gods, let it be so, I thought.

  Three Svarts fell upon me, one digging his blade deep into my left wing. I bit back a cry—no time for pain. My concentration narrowed down to one singular thought: Survive.

  Only movement existed. Only thrust, parry, strike. Kick, feint, block.

  My fists were frozen where they fell time and again on the icy skin of the Svarts.

  The staff in my hand slipped in my palm from their blood that painted it a pale blue.

  My throat grew raw from screaming.

  I barely moved from my spot as the enemy came to me. It seemed they meant to bury me alive in their bodies, as the pile of their dead surrounded me on all sides—yet still they came.

  My arms grew weak, but I forced myself to fight on.

  The sound of battle deafened me, gradually taking on the muted tone of Helheimer, as if it came through a long tube. Exhaustion teased me, made me long to lie down. Made me consider giving up.

  Yet still I pressed on.

  And then . . . the attack stopped.

  It took me a moment to recognize the change. To realize the air no longer rang with steel.

  I climbed over the bodies surveyed the barren landscape. The bodies of Svarts littered the hard-packed ground all the way to the rocky mesas that dotted the horizon. A few Valkyrie sat or crouched on the ground, but I didn’t see any lying among the dead. I could not see Fahria.

  I whirled around, seeking Michael—but I couldn’t see him anywhere, either. There were far fewer Giants dead upon the ground, and more than a handful of Gardians that I could see. The Svarts and Giants had retreated, no doubt calling for reinforcements—for though their number had surpassed ours by far, they had suffered badly in battle.

  Where the hell is Michael?

  An alarm went off in my mind. A persistent driving sound of need to find. my. love.

  I ran toward the Giants, then flew, excruciating pain accompanying every beat of my injured wing. Everything fell into my peripheral vision, everything beyond the singular focus of my need. I darted from one fallen Gardian to another, but could not find my love.

  “Michael!” His name tore from my throat, burning fear, again and again.

  Someone flew into me, plummeting me back down to Earth, holding me in her arms.

  “Shh,” Fahria said, pressing my head to her shoulder. “Shh.”

  I grabbed the shoulder straps of her armor, and wrapped my fists around them as I fell against her. I felt myself die. I could not exist without Michael. I didn’t want to.

  “What’s it all been for?” I asked over and over. “Without him, what’s the point?”

  Fahria made no reply, but continued to hold me. I wanted to die. I willed myself to die. My Halo faded. My knees gave way. Fahria held me upright by her own strength alone.

  And then . . .

  as quiet as a whispered breeze . . .

  rustling the golden leaves of our garden . . .

  as gentle as the nodding bells of the Lily of the Valley . . .

  I am here, Love.

  I am here.

  I didn’t know if Fahria heard him, or if she knew intuitively, but she threw her arms back and I burst away from her, Becoming and taking to the sky in a flash of golden light and black shadow. I followed my heart across the battlefield, where the survivors crouched together, tending to their wounded and dead. I flew to the rocky outcropping and the soul of the person I would never again forget and would always find.

  Landing near the rocks, I let my spirit recede into Halo and Shadow, unwilling to entirely let go of the strength and comfort they brought me. Fahria landed beside me. I glanced at her, then stepped into the cool darkness of a maze of rocks, my staff held ready.

  A dark form separated itself from the shadows.

  “Longinus!” Fahria cried and took two fast steps forward before stopping abruptly. She glanced back at me, and for a moment I saw her as a young woman in love, and not the fierce warrior she portrayed the rest of the time. While I watched, she assumed that mask and instead of leaping into Longinus’ arms like I knew she longed to do, she reached out and they clasped forearms. They didn’t say anything, but I understood it all.

  This was relief at finding the other unharmed. This was joy in being in another’s company again.

  This was love.

  I hadn’t known they loved each other, but it sat on my heart with the easiness of inevitability. They were perfect together.

  Longinus stepped past Fahria, but I didn’t miss the way his fingers trailed up her arm as he let her go of her. He took my right hand in his. “Lady,” he said, bowing his head. The respect and care that radiated from him made me uncomfortable—I didn’t deserve either of those things. At least, no more than he did.

  “Come with me.” A stone settled in my heart as he led me behind the outcropping and into a small sunlit chamber between the rocks. Fear of what I would find slowed my steps and filled my throat with unshed tears.

  The first thing I saw was Cornelius sitting on the ground, his head bowed. And then . . . Michael.

  His back was to me, but as soon as I stepped into view he stood. In a flash he had me in his arms, lifted me from the ground, buried his face against my neck. Oh, love, he said in my mind.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  “What is it?” I asked when he set me on my feet.

  “Come.” He took my hand and led me forward to where Miri lay on the ground, her head in Cornelius’ lap.

  “Miri!” I fell to my knees beside her, stroked her hair and searched for how she might be injured.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I asked when I couldn’t see any sign of injury.

  Cornelius’s blue eyes sparkled with a brief smile. He reached out and touched my cheek. “I am so glad to see you, Desolation.”

  I put my hand on his, pressing his palm to my skin. “And I’m glad to see you.”

  Our focus returned to Miri, and Cornelius brushed back the damp hair on her forehead. “We stood together, near the rocks, watching the battle unfold,” he said. “She saw you return, saw Michael—and oh, she was happy.” He glanced at me and I caught his eyes.

  “She asked where James was, and I didn’t know what to say. I put my arm around her shoulder, to offer what comfort I could, but her body began trembling, then convulsing, with great force. At first I thought it was sorrow or fear, but once I helped her to the ground I realized she was not responsive. Longinus helped me bring her here, where she is out of harm’s way.” His eyes met mine, as he added, “I believe she’s had a vision. A terrible premonition that has sent her mind into a state of shock.”

  He poured a bit of water from a bottle onto a piece of torn cloth and dabbed
it on Miri’s forehead. “She stopped seizing shortly afterward, but has since lain still, not waking, not stirring. Her breathing has remained even, which I take as a hopeful sign.” He looked at me, an expression of expectation on his face, though I had no idea how to offer him, or anyone, comfort.

  My mind spun, the usual war raging within me. If only we hadn’t needed to release Helena in order to rescue Heimdall. If only I’d chosen Michael over Miri—maybe an eternity in Hell would be better than all that I’d put her through since then.

  I felt Michael’s hand on my shoulder; warm, steady. “You made the right choice, love. This is Miri’s gift and her burden. She’ll come out of this, I’m sure of it.”

  “I fear she is dreaming, and what she sees has her heart and mind strangled with terror.” Cornelius’ tone was as soft as the touch he used on Miri’s brow, but it didn’t do anything to diminish the weight of his words.

  “But what could she be dreaming about? How could there be anything more than—” I waved my hand to indicate all the hell we’d endured on the desert. “How could there be anything worse?”

  Michael said, “Odin believes this is the Ragnarok—Midgard’s Apocalypse. This fight is not over, my love. The enemies are merely regrouping, taking time to tend their wounds and replenish their numbers.”

  I noted how haggard, sad, and resigned he seemed. “We can’t win a second time,” I said, fear coloring my words like mold on bread.

  Michael stroked my hair, a constant soothing rhythm. “But we must.”

  And I realized—it needed to be as simple as that. We could not afford to fail. Midgard might be a small planet, but it was the hub around which all the others orbited—should Midgard fall, then Asgard would fall. And without Asgard, there could be no order among the worlds and chaos would invade all creation.

  The scrape of a boot against stone came from behind me and I turned in time to see Fahria, followed closely by Longinus, run from the rock enclosure. I focused on Miri, willing her to wake, whispering words of encouragement. A moment later, Longinus returned.

  “Excuse me, Lady.” He leaned down, took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “It has begun again.”

  My eyes grew wide while my mind looped on, Again? My mouth said, “What?”

  “The Svarts and Giants have joined forces and call us to battle. Fahria and her sisters have already been forced to engage them.”

  Michael jumped to his feet, placing a hand on Cornelius’ shoulder. “Keep her safe. Call for me should she wake or . . . if anything changes.” Cornelius nodded in reply.

  “Go safely, my son.” To me, he said, “Desolation. The story of your mother’s courage and strength has been passed down through eons of time. What she did for you, and the potential of what you could do for our cause—for the victory of light over dark—has been the foundation upon which we have built all our efforts against Loki.”

  He gently moved Miri so he could stand. He took my hands in his own and pierced me with the intensity of his gaze. “You are not only her daughter, not only Loki’s—but all of ours. You are the best of all of us—though you have a great capacity for evil, you must never think yourself unworthy because of it. We all have our own sins to bear.” He held my left hand, palm down, tracing his thumb over the swirls of black that covered my skin. “Your darkness and light give you a strength unlike any other. It enlivens your soul with a richness and depth no one in all the worlds possesses. You, unlike anyone else, have the power to push back the darkness in the worlds—just as you did in your own soul.”

  “But—” My mind reeled with the implications of his words. “I didn’t do it alone. Aaron helped me.” And had died doing it.

  To my surprise, Cornelius smiled. “As you’re not alone now.” His face lit up as if what he’d said made sense, then he released my hands and shooed me away. “Now go. Make haste and return to us swiftly. Miri will need you when she wakes.”

  I searched his eyes and didn’t see even a shred of doubt there. Not a hint of worry that I would fail to do as he asked, as hope demanded. At stake was the fate of all the worlds, and all that stood between life and death was me—a broken, confused half-breed with a handful of the best friends in all the worlds. I nodded, hoping Cornelius knew I’d do my best. Because I might not feel like the sharpest blade or strongest fist, but I’d be damned if I’d let my friends down.

  Michael grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Miri and Cornelius before I had a chance to say any of the things that rose like buoys in my mind. Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for being there for Miri. Just . . . thank you.

  We ran out to the desert and beheld the battle in full swing once more. We saw Fahria, her sisters and Gardians fanned out in front of us on all sides—it wasn’t until Michael and I took to the sky that I got a clear view of the enemy. And an understanding of how dire our situation had become.

  The tall, pale, blue-skinned Svarts stood atop the rocks that rose out of the sand, lobbing volleys of arrows like rain upon the Gardians that rose against them. On the desert beneath them, the Giants spread outward, their numbers so vast I couldn’t see the end of them. They seemed to be as numerous as the grains of sand beneath our feet.

  I felt a wave of love pass from Michael to me—no words, only love. Only a reassurance that, whatever happened, he loved me, and knew I loved him. I tried to push my love for him through the muck of fear and doubt crowding my heart, but I was out of time. I followed him to the ground, to join my sisters and brothers, the Valkyrie and Gardians, the children of Asgard, in a fight for all that was good.

  I swung my staff in wide arcs, spinning, spinning, spinning. I fought with every ounce of my being, fought with all that I had, all that I was. I fought with staff and sword, elbow, knee and foot. I used all my body to take down enemy after enemy, and still they came.

  My breath grew ragged in my throat; burning as if I were swallowing searing hot coals, yet still I fought on. From time to time, I was aware of Michael, Fahria or Longinus fighting near me, but my attention was always drawn away so I had no idea how they fared, or the state of the battle in general. I only knew what was right in front of me—the never ending press of bodies and killing weapons.

  With a blast of heat that blew over me like a fiery furnace, a Giant stepped in my path, rocking the earth beneath my feet and making me lose my balance. I fell forward, reaching out to steady myself, and landed against him. The heat of his skin burned my hand and his breath singed my eyebrows. He grasped me by my shoulders and proceeded to squeeze, lifting me from the ground, a visceral scream building in his gut and pouring out in a barrage of burning air.

  I felt helpless in his hands, trapped, and so, so tired.

  But beyond him I saw something that fueled my weary body. Breathed fury into my weakening heart. I saw James.

  A canopied litter sat in the dirt atop a rocky outcropping some twenty yards away. The curtains were pulled back to allow the occupant a clear view of the battle.On a throne of red and gold cushions, wearing a sheath of pale pink, her red hair cascading down her shoulders, reclined Helena. She smiled as she caught my eye and glanced downward, inviting my line of sight to follow hers.

  In her hand she held a fine gold chain which led to the collar around the neck of a young man wearing only a white loincloth. There, on hands and knees, providing a footstool for Helena, knelt James.

  I sunk my teeth into the inside of the giant’s wrist. He howled and let go of my left arm. I swung wildly in his one hand, my feet unable to touch the ground. I reached for my boot and the small golden blade I’d tucked there. Grabbing the dagger, I kicked my feet and brought myself around, thrusting the knife into the giant’s chin. He screamed, feral and vicious, baring his teeth and lunging forward, but now I was on my feet and he was falling forward, trying to staunch the flow of blood that gushed down his neck.

  He fell face-first into the dirt, soaking the baked clay with his sizzling blood. I jumped onto his back and grabbed my sword with my
free hand. With a blade in both fists, I ran toward the litter, a battle cry on my lips while my brain shouted, Kill Helena, save James. Kill Helena, save James.

  But before I reached them, a blast of frigid air threw me backward, twisting, sending me skittering several feet chest-down across the dirt. People—Valkyrie, Giant, Svart, Gardian—fell to the ground all around me. Only Helena, who I could see clearly before me, remained untouched within her canopied sanctuary.

  Only seconds after I’d thought, Father, did a booming voice cry, “This is my world, and you will not possess it, Witch.”

  I tried to stand, but found myself pinned to the ground beneath the force of Father’s power. To my left and right I saw others struggling against the weight of his presence. He flew slowly forward, coming to hover above the ground in front of me, blocking my view of Helena and James. Father was glorious—his ebony bat-like wings towered far above him, blocking out the sun, blocking much of the sky from my view. He radiated power like an armed missile prepared for launch.

  Helena laughed.

  “This is not your world, Loki,” Helena replied in a sultry, lazy voice. “It is merely Odin’s playground. But I say it’s time for others to enjoy its bounty.”

  Father stepped to the ground, sending shockwaves like small earthquakes trembling through the dirt. “This is no place for Svarts or Giants,” he said. “This place was never meant for them.”

  Helena laughed and the ground trembled beneath me. “And it was never meant for you. One of your birth has no claim on any of the worlds.”

  “Odin is my father—and I lead a third of his children in asserting claim to this land.” His voice trembled with fury and his wings stretched and snapped in the frigid wind he conjured around him.

  Fear clouded my vision until I saw only black. I feared he would take me up in another of his dark tornadoes and leave me imprisoned once again. Imprisoned or worse. My friends were here, and James on his knees between the two combatants. Thoughts of what Father could do to those I loved plagued me. I called out to Michael in my mind—but he was as trapped and helpless as I.