Dead Embers Page 2

I grinned at Fen. "So when do we leave?"

  "Patience, Brynhildr." Fen's dark eyes narrowed to lupine slits, and my grin dissolved. He hadn't called me anything but Bryn in a long while now, and he knew the full name irked me. But I let it slide.

  "You have a few things to learn," he said.

  I crossed my arms, my tense shoulders no doubt revealing my stubborn streak. I didn't want to be held back any longer. I'd beaten a fire giant for heaven's sake . . . what more did they expect me to learn?

  Fen's eyebrows rose an inch, his eyes gleaming in amusement. My wings fluttered in nervous response as he fixed his stare upon them. I opened my mouth, but Fen's next words startled me into silence, forcing me to swallow whatever smartass quip hovered on my tongue.

  "Those things are useless until you actually learn how to use them, you know?"

  For the first time since I'd scrubbed Aidan's blood from my hands, a thrill of excitement coursed through me—sweet and hot and filled with delight.

  I was going to learn how to fly!

  Chapter 3

  Fenrir shoved the carved palace doors open, and a blast of cold air struck my face. He headed around the stone building, walking briskly. I followed in silence. The sword hilt at my side clinked against my chainmail vest, the noise echoing off the palace's tall walls.

  When we reached the end of the wall, I paused for a moment to gaze at the impressive structure emerging from the side of the snow-kissed mountain. The full majesty of Odin’s white stone palace bore down on me, and yet the weight of it was hardly oppressive. It seemed to impart a bit of that majesty to me. I smiled, grateful to borrow from its strength.

  I needed strength, now more than ever. Sure, I wanted to learn how to fly, but I wasn't a real Valkyrie. Not like all the other Valkyries. They were chosen after a lifetime of earning their position in Odin's army. I, on the other hand, was a fraud. I hadn't earned my place. I was just a clone, created in a test tube by a father who'd lied to me my entire life. What if something went wrong? What if I couldn't fly at all? A sudden violent urge to run turned my legs into a bundle of tense nerves and muscles.

  But fleeing was not an option.

  I gritted my teeth, suddenly not looking forward to this training session with the Ulfr general. My wings fluttered at my back, fine-tuned to the butterflies that thrashed around in my stomach. A Valkyrie warrior maiden should be brave and strong. Unfortunately, this Valkyrie happened to be a great big chicken.

  Up ahead, Fen barked my name. "Bryn!"

  I dragged my eyes from the beauty of the palace, and my thoughts from the mire of my nervous doubts, and trudged after him, kicking at clumps of snow-drowned stones, just in time to see him disappear behind a tall standing stone.

  At first I assumed Fen meant to lead me to a special training area behind the palace, but nothing of the sort existed here. Just snow and great, big, human-sized rocks littering the ground. I scowled and used his tracks in the snow to find his path. He'd branched to the right, away from the palace boundary, toward the craggy boulders and the snow-covered mountain peaks high above.

  Icy fingers of cold clawed at my tongue and throat as I huffed and hurried after him. Winter had already taken Asgard in her grasp when I'd lost Aidan to Loki’s venom. Lost him to Freya’s Hel-bound ministrations. But within the last week, winter’s fist had tightened mercilessly, deepening the season's dark and frigid ache.

  A gust of wind whipped my hair around my face, and I tugged at it impatiently, trying to pay attention to my footing as I followed Fen. Soon I caught sight of him again, a dark shape amongst the gigantic boulders. Pulling my woolen cloak closer, I bent against the driving gusts that grew in strength as we plodded up the face of the mountain— and stopped only when I almost ploughed straight into Fen’s back as he came to a sudden halt.

  I scowled at him, disgusted that despite my Valkyrie strength I was still huffing and puffing like the awful storybook wolf that had scared the living daylights out of three poor little piglets. And before me, the real wolf barely acknowledged the stress of the hike.

  "Why are we stopping?" I tried to swallow my gasps for air, tried to put on a strong front. Fen’s lip curved in a dry smirk—he so wasn't buying it.

  "I do not want to carry you up the mountain, Valkyrie," he replied, voice as cool as the mountain air, handsome face unaffected by the biting wind.

  I opened my mouth to defend myself, then swallowed whatever I'd meant to say. My forehead scrunched as I pretended to seriously consider his option. "I'm thinking that may be a very good idea, Fen."

  He just shook his head as if I were a silly child begging for a ride on his shoulders. "Not very likely, warrior maiden of Odin."

  "Well fine, if you put it that way I guess I’ll have to walk, then." I bent over as air whistled through my lungs. A glance over my shoulder confirmed that Fen seemed in no hurry, so I shifted to admire the view while my breathing steadily began to resemble a human's more than a panting pack dog's.

  Magnificent.

  The beauty of the palace and the Valley of Asgard stole the breath from my lungs all over again.

  We stood just above the tallest spire of the palace, and only now did I understand its size. I'd known Odin's abode, with its labyrinthine passages, housed his half of the Valkyrie recruits: a veritable army living within the palace, each Valkyrie with her own quarters. Not to mention rooms for the servants who brought our meals, who tended to our garments and our armor. And I was pretty sure there was a whole lot of the palace I hadn't even seen yet.

  From our vantage point on this mountain of stone, the Valkyries' bathing pools on our left were tiny shimmering ponds, glistening like a multitude of mirrors in the pale morning sun.

  Beyond the pools, further up the hill, sat Valhalla, guarded by the gleaming Glasir tree with its magnificent golden leaves, now dappled with snow. The sight of Valhalla brought Aidan to my mind, and with him came memories of Freya and her strange ways. A shadow crossed my thoughts, keeping the weak sunshine at bay. I shivered, and even that slight, jittery movement brought me back to awareness.

  I stood at the edge of a deadly precipice.

  Around me, angry shards of grey and black stone rose like hundreds of Gothic sentinels. Snow laced the jagged edges. High above, majestic mountain peaks towered, beckoning us with their vicious yet ethereal beauty.

  "Enough rest, Valkyrie. Come," Fen snapped. Icy air twisted beside me as he swept toward the path again, cloak flying, boots crunching on the gravelly path. A clump of pebbles rattled and rolled down the slope, flying off the edge of the cliff. I waited to hear the sharp little cracks of rock against rock as they landed.

  Nothing.

  I stamped the warmth back into my booted feet and followed the wolf man, staring daggers at his back. He was in a strange mood today. He didn't seem to have much to say. Not that he was the most talkative Asgardian I’d ever met. As I pursued Fen's disappearing back, I pondered our tangled, complicated relationship. He was many things to me: friend, mentor, secret love of my best friend, Sigrun.

  And son of Loki.

  I gritted my teeth. To avoid thoughts of that treacherous excuse for a god, I surged on, concentrating on the hike.

  We stopped only twice more, short snatches in time that barely allowed me to gulp down a breath and did nothing to ease the burning fire in my muscles, especially with the added burden of my wings.

  Just when I was certain I could no longer endure the flames of exertion, we reached a large shelf of stone. I held onto the nearest rock wall and concentrated on catching my breath, straining, resisting my body's desire to faint. Blood pounded in my head, and my breath came in short, sharp bursts.

  Not enough air.

  My vision clouded, eyes filling with little dancing starbursts, and for a moment I was only vaguely aware of smoothed stone beneath my fingers—and, of course, the desperate icy coldness of the air.

  The lightheadedness of high altitude held my attention until Fen grunted. Damn it, Fen. What's your
all-fired rush, anyway? I guess Fen had missed the part where I wasn't a frickin' super-powered Ulfr like him.

  I straightened, scowling as I asked, "How much farther do we—"

  The rest of my question disappeared as my vision cleared, and I stiffened, forcing my gaping mouth shut.

  We stood on a solid stone platform, carved out of the mountainside so skillfully that no climber would know it existed until he stepped right onto it. Solid rock hemmed the ledge in on both sides. A yard or two away, the ledge narrowed toward a shadowed entrance flanked by two gigantic statues sculpted straight out of the rock itself.

  A gasp froze in my throat. Two perfectly carved Valkyries guarded the passage, wings outstretched above us, each feather so lifelike. Their wings beckoned, and promised safety. My feet moved, following Fen as he walked into the passage.

  Into the mountain.

  Inside the dark tunnel, I sensed the change in the air. With each reluctant step, my lightheadedness receded. The bite of the winter cold softened to a more bearable, breathable freshness.

  We emerged on the other side, and I squinted against the brightness, shading my eyes against the glare. Fen moved aside, and this time I did gasp out loud.

  The mountain housed an impossibly beautiful secret within its rocky face. Fenced in by the rising peaks, draped in an elegant filigree of snowflakes like a gleaming white pearl within a craggy oyster shell, lay a stunning hidden valley.

  I gaped, entranced. Then Fen's voice broke the spell. "Welcome to the Hollow of the Valkyries!"

  Chapter 4

  "This is your training ground."

  Fen's voice echoed around us, reverberating on my eardrums as I breathed the icy air deep into my lungs. The valley floor lay far, far below, almost as far down as Odin's castle on the other side of the mountain. At least the trip down would be easier than our muscle-burning hike up.

  I hoped.

  Fen folded his arms and faced me, his face as shadowed and unrelenting as the rock-faces hemming the valley in. "Are you ready, Valkyrie Brynhildr?"

  I nodded, clenching my jaw and lifting my chin a fraction. He'd used my full given name, a name that reminded me of my one claim to fame—being a clone of the real Warrior Princess Brunhilde, who'd lived and died centuries before I'd even been a figment of my father's crazed imagination.

  "You do have to remove your cloak, you know." Fen tempered his dry tone with a sudden cheeky grin, for a brief moment transforming his forbidding, hooded features into a genial, approachable face.

  I threw him a reluctant, tight smile, undid the ornate clasp at my neck and dropped the dark, silky cloak over the nearest boulder.

  "Very good. Now face the edge of the cliff. And jump." He spoke the words so matter-of-factly he might as well have invited me for a cappuccino.

  "You're kidding, right?" I asked in horror, half believing he meant his words, half unable to think straight. The sober glance he threw me squashed my urge to burst into laughter.

  I risked a peek over the edge.

  No way in hell is he serious. No friggin' way.

  I'd never been afraid of heights, but then again I'd never spent much time in skyscrapers or on mountaintops as high as Mt. Everest. But the height thing wasn't even the issue. It was the jumping-off-the-edge-of-a-cliff thing that really bugged me.

  I shook my head, taking a good half-dozen steps away, my heart thundering against my ribs. When I glanced at Fen, I couldn't hide the sudden stab of fear that thrummed through me.

  Fen must have recognized my terror—I hadn't bothered to hide it—but he just laughed, the sound hollow and brittle in the frigid air. Bitter, gravelly laughter edged with a sadness I couldn't explain.

  Whoa, Fen. What's gotten into you?

  The strange laughter stopped, and I met his eyes, scanning their depths, unsure of what I should do next. Had he really expected me to jump? The rock-hard grey of his eyes glittered, like chipped stones stolen from this hidden valley.

  Hard and dead.

  "Valkyrie, you look at me with fear in your eyes. As if I am truly my father's son."

  His words hurt my heart, and confused me at the same time. But I remembered that his father was the reason I'd lost Aidan. I studied Fen for a moment. I hesitated, my head still hot with fear, then broke eye contact, fixating on the clear, pale blue sky, wanting to look anywhere but at his face. The silence between us was cold and hard, and many minutes passed before he spoke again.

  "I am very sorry, Bryn." The ripple in his voice drew my gaze, but he just stared off into the valley, his soft words forming little puffy clouds that swirled and dissolved on the icy air.

  I shook my head, even though his attention lay somewhere out in the stark white snow. "No. You don't need to apologize to me, Fenrir. Loki may have been your father, but you can't hold yourself responsible for his actions."

  I wasn't sure anyone could be held responsible for the god Loki's notoriously deceitful actions. The blame lay solely in Loki's own traitorous hand. And the last person who should ever claim responsibility for the trickster's actions should be Fen. Fen had proven his loyalty to Odin many times over. Nobody could doubt Fenrir.

  Except, apparently, Fenrir himself.

  Fen cleared his throat, as if his words had dammed there, struggling for freedom. He avoided my eyes. "Even so, I am sorry."

  I laid a finger on his arm, muscles tight, as I hoped he wouldn't pull away. What a puzzle he was, this beautiful man who'd sent shivers of horror crawling up and down my spine the first time I'd seen him. This man who was a wolf. This man who offered his life and his service to Odin, flouting the ancient legends that claimed he would betray the All-Father and bring about the end of the world.

  Fen's rugged profile darkened, his shoulders stiff like granite. But only for a moment. I guess he struggled with his own share of brooding demons.

  I shuffled my feet, and a few loosened stones went tumbling down into the snowy slopes, scattering like my thoughts as I tried to think of something comforting to say to him. Compared to Fen's father, I could hardly complain about my own, so I mentioned a different not-so-nice father. "You know, you aren't the only one to have a crappy dad. Look at Aidan's dad. He sent his henchmen to kill his own son. That's way worse, in my opinion."

  Fenrir tilted his head, a skeptical gleam in his eyes. "Loki meant to kill Aidan. I do not understand why you are not viciously angry."

  "But I am viciously angry. Just not viciously angry with you! Come on, Fen. You can't let this whole thing affect you like this." I couldn't believe I needed to give advice to a being hundreds of years older than me, a being so powerful he could kill me with one blow.

  He shook his head and turned to face me, a contemplative wrinkle to his brow as he laid a hand on my shoulder. "I had always thought that humans did not possess the capacity for purity of heart. I believe you are different."

  "Maybe because I'm not human. Never was, never will be." I sighed, and my wings fluttered their answering sadness. A tiny part of me still yearned to fit in with humanity. But my own reality killed that option. I no longer belonged. I'd never belonged, never understood or fit in with the whole cheerleader, popularity-contest side of human life. Always on the sidelines, always playing new girl, never more than a temporary friend and freak.

  "I do understand what you mean, Bryn," said Fen, "but it is the failings of humanity that I am referring to."

  I bristled. "Failings? Are you saying you admire me because of my failings?" I clenched my fists, ready to follow my Valkyrie instinct into full-blown fury. Fen had me pretty off balance today.

  "Yes," he answered enigmatically, moving to the edge of the precipice. My heart thundered in my throat, and when I swallowed, I might as well have taken a sip of solid stone.

  What was he looking at? I inched forward and peeped over the edge.

  He stared down, eyes focused on the black rocks and snow mingling in the hushed valley. "Your failings are what make you so special. You are not perfect, and that is a rath
er good thing. It is all that emotion inside you that makes you so different."

  Different? Thanks for the reminder, Fen. At least now I know exactly what you think of me. Guess I was wrong to think I'd finally found a place where I belonged.

  I clenched my fists and snapped at him, "I hardly see how different my emotions are from yours, or any of the other gods, for that matter." Odin's and Freya's natures were both fickle and capricious, selfish and selfless—an aspect of godhood I'd found difficult to understand at first. "Freya showed me that even the gods have their popular crowd."

  "Popular crowd?" Fen glanced at me, a shadowed frown darkening his forehead, his ebony hair sweeping his shoulders.

  "Yeah. The cool dudes. The hip chicks," I teased.

  Fen scowled, though it didn't mess with his handsome face at all.

  "Okay," I relented. "The people everyone wants to be like. That's Freya. And the haters, like Loki."

  "Ah. I understand." He nodded, a sad gleam in his eye.

  "The gods of Asgard are really no different from us humans, you know," I said, a satisfied smirk at my lips. "Unless, of course, you consider the whole thirty-foot-high size thing." I paused to gauge his mood before adding, "And the gods can die just like us, too."

  Fen nodded, eyes still trained on the depths of the cavern.

  "So what are we doing here?" I followed his gaze down into the valley. "I am so not jumping off any cliff to prove how not human I am. What are you trying to do? Check if I can defy death?"

  "No, Bryn. This is part of your training." He spoke slowly with exaggerated patience.

  "What is? To jump into oblivion when I can't fly? You're supposed to teach me how to fly—not force me to jump to my death!" I couldn't help it when my voice reached a shrill and almost hysterical squeak.

  "How will you know if you can fly if you do not try?"

  "Well, I certainly ain't trying to fly by taking a flying leap off the side of a frickin' mountain!"

  I snapped my gaze away from him, folding my arms in a huff. My eyes traced the rocky pathway leading down into the valley's pristine depths, as if the scenic view somehow held the answer to Fen's psycho training plan.