Valhellions, p.20
Valhellions, page 20
“I’d hardly call this lying in state,” I said. “Unless the state in question is Disarray.”
“Isn’t there supposed to be a volleyball court?” Chesa asked. “With . . . shirtless Vikings? Playing volleyball?”
“Keep it in your pants, Lazaro,” Esther snapped. “Everyone, look around for the valkyries. Something weird is going on here, and I’m willing to bet it has something to do with our domains.”
Grumbling, we set about the task of searching the bodies for their winged companions. It was joyless work, especially since most of the dead seemed very comfortable in their repose, and didn’t want to budge. I began wondering if I would find Solveig among them. I recognized a few of the bodies, but for the most part the charnel carpet contained a steady supply of athletic men and women suffering from grievous and obviously fatal wounds.
We found the valkyries in the kitchen. Or, technically, the valkyrie. The rest were dead. Lined up along the back wall of the kitchen, dressed in an odd mix of ballroom wear and combat gear, they looked like the lineup of a beauty contest with a trial by combat that had gone terribly wrong.
Runa Hellesdottir lay on the dull brown tiled floor, hands tented over the hilt of the dagger that had been thrust into her heart. There was surprisingly little blood. She was dressed in a high-waisted all-black tuxedo with a silver hatchet dangling from the hip. Revna, the raven-winged valkyrie who had escorted us to the throne on our earlier visit, knelt at her side. Revna’s eyes were rimmed with red, and tears stained her cheeks. A brace of spears lay discarded nearby. She made no notice of our entrance.
“What happened?” Esther asked. “Who did this?”
“This is your fault, you know,” Revna said. “Whenever Esther bloody MacRae shows up, it’s valkyrie blood, and valkyrie tears.”
“You know we had nothing to do with this,” Esther said. She knelt by Runa’s side, checking the fallen valkyrie’s throat and wrist. “Why is there so little blood?”
“She was already dead. The mortal you led to this place, the wielder of Totenschreck, struck her down. The dagger was to send a message.” Revna pulled Runa’s hand from Esther’s grasp, then set it gingerly back on the hilt. “We are not safe. Even in our own hall. Even from our own sisters.”
“Who did this?” Esther asked again.
“I don’t know,” Revna said after a long pause. “This is how I found her.”
“Then how do you know it was the Totenpops?” I asked.
“I saw them leaving in your damned boat,” she said. “The whole host of them. They killed their way through the blessed dead, killed Runa, and then fled like the cowards they are. I tried to catch up, but they were too fast.”
“And where were you when all this was going down?” Chesa asked. “Of all the valkyries, only you were absent?”
“I was . . .” Her hesitation was as thick as wine in a poet’s blood. “I was on a mission.”
“Right,” I said. “What kind of mission? Looking for an excuse to be somewhere else while your friends stole the Hangnail?”
Revna stood and drew one of the discarded spears, setting the tip against my throat faster than I could blink. She stared at me with impassive eyes.
“I did not kill my friend. I do not kill those I love.” She pressed the spear firmly into my skin. “I do not love you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get that. Not a very lovable guy.” I swallowed and immediately regretted the decision, as the spear drew blood. “Just, you know, curious.”
“I have already lost three members of my team, Revna. If I’m going to solve this problem, I’m going to need you to not kill any of the remaining,” Esther said. “Even John.”
“Even John,” I repeated.
Revna snorted, then whipped the spear away. I rubbed my neck and took a step back, nearly tripping over the dead Runa. Fortunately, Revna was looking elsewhere.
“I was following you and your ridiculous whale,” she said. “One of your companions burned as bright as a bonfire in the Unreal. The British one. Once I locked on to him, it was like following a burning cart down a hillside in the middle of the night.”
“Why were you following us?” Esther demanded. “You already kicked us out of Valhalla. What more could we do?”
“Apparently, a great deal. Runa didn’t trust you. She thought you might go for the Tears. I’ve spoken with Lillie. I guess Runa wasn’t far wrong, was she?”
“So either the valhellions followed Percy, or they followed you. Either way, we led them straight to the Tears,” Chesa said quietly.
“What have I been saying? All of this is your fault.”
“Well, whatever you believe, all we’re trying to do is stop the end of the world,” Esther said. “But this certainly explains a lot. Knight Watch’s compact is with Runa. If she’s dead, even the half-death of the Totenschreck, it will severely inhibit our ability to access the Unreal. Revna, we’ll need to swear a new compact with you. Without our domains—”
“I will do no such thing,” the valkyrie said. “Your bumbling and interference have brought this about. Knight Watch has always overstepped its bounds. Now you are grounded. Good.”
“Who else is going to help you?” Esther asked, gesturing to the line of dead valkyries at the back of the room. “Unless I miss my guess, our fascist friend nicked the whole lot with his cursed blade before scampering off. If they do come back in the morning, and there’s no guarantee that they will, it’s going to be on the wrong team.”
“I will manage. These are my sisters. I will be able to convince them—”
“No, you idiot, you won’t be able to convince them of anything,” Esther snapped. “You were at Dunkirk. You know what they’re going to become. Best you’ll be able to do is keep them from eating you raw, and that’s only if you can run fast enough.”
“We have other allies. I will call upon the Jotun, or the aelves. You are not the only power in heaven, Esther MacRae!”
“By the time you rouse them, and convince them this isn’t some elaborate trick to steal their memories or some such nonsense, it’ll be too late. You said they fled in the Naglfr? You know where they’re going, Revna. You know what this means!”
“Where are they going?” Chesa asked.
“Folksvangr,” Revna said reluctantly. “The field of the people. The place where Freya’s portion of the dead wait for the end of the world.”
“So, like Valhalla!” Chesa said. She bit her lip and leaned forward. “Is there . . . volleyball?”
“Wait a second,” I said. “If you came straight from Lillie to here, how did the valhellions have time to kill Runa and the other valkyries, not to mention the host of blessed bloody dead, before you arrived? We used a shadow gate and barely had time to clear our heads before we came here.”
“It could have been a second team,” Esther said. “One to retrieve the Tears, another to strike at Valhalla.”
“No. Tatertots was in both places. And I’m guessing it takes more than a heartbeat to storm a place like Valhalla, even if you’re ready for it. You saw what this place looked like when we left? Runa had the girls packing for bear,” I said. “Something about this is bugging me.”
“What does it matter?” Revna asked. “They are in Folksvangr by now. Without Naglfr, you will not be able to reach it.”
“Sure we can,” Chesa said. “We got here, didn’t we?”
“Folksvangr is different,” Esther said. “After the war it was cut off from the mundane, to keep someone from accidentally stumbling through the veil. It’s one of the few places that is entirely magical. You would need a magical vessel to reach it.”
“Something like the Hangnail,” I said.
“Yes,” Revna confirmed.
“Then why the hell did you let them take it from us?” I asked Esther. “We could have kept it safe.”
“I thought it might be safer in Valhalla,” she said. “I guess I was wrong.”
“So, you see, it is hopeless,” Revna said. “In the morning they will raise the army of dead soldiers contained in Folksvangr, and they will kick off Ragnarok. The Gjallarhorn will blow, Hrym will descend from his mountain with his shield, the world tree and the serpent will shake the heavens, and mighty Fenrir will break free from his bonds and consume the moon. Then the world will die in ash and flame.”
“Fenrir, you say?” I asked.
“Yes. The mighty wolf, bound only by the trickery of the gods. He is destined to consume the moon, kill Odin, and then—”
“I have an idea,” I interrupted. “But we’re going to need to find some bacon.”
“Bacon? Rast, I know you get hungry a lot, but third breakfast is going to have to wait until after the end of the world,” Chesa said.
“It’s not for me,” I said. “It’s for the dog.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The contract had a lot of subclauses, glowing runes, and at least three different kinds of ink. Some of the words squirmed on the page even as Esther put her name on the dotted line. I did not feel good about this.
“Shouldn’t we at least read it first?” I asked.
“You know a lot about interdimensional contractual law?” Esther finished signing. “No, of course you don’t. In fact, the person who knows the most about these kinds of contracts was Kracek the Destroyer, but we can’t consult him because . . .”
“Because I killed him, yeah. But he really was an asshole.”
“An asshole, yes, but the best damned draconic lawyer in the seven realms. Bit of a good golfer, too.” Esther put down the pen and gestured to Revna. “I assume you’re screwing us over somehow?”
“That is for me to know, and for you to find out,” Revna said. “At the least opportune moment, I imagine. Unfortunately I cannot return the Naglfr to your service, as it has been stolen. And until the matter of the Totenschreck is managed, I can’t even return all of your domains to full and working order.”
“That’s fine. We only need mine,” I said.
“Hang on, that’s hardly fair. I can’t walk around looking like . . . like . . .” Chesa gestured to her jeans and comic book T-shirt. “Like a human!”
“Not to elf-shame you, but we’re all humans here,” I said. Revna cleared her throat. “Most of us. Point is, you’ll be able to get by on residual glamor until we can straighten out the realms. For now, we just need to ramp up my domain. I can get us to Folks Fanger.”
“You don’t even know where it is,” Chesa said.
“If John believes he can get the team where it needs to go, then I’m willing to believe him,” Esther said. “With just the three of you—”
“You’re not coming with us?” I asked.
“No, dear child, I am not. I need to work with Revna on establishing the links to the rest of your domains. If we can get them up and running, you’ll start recharging immediately. That’s more important than anything my old bones could contribute.”
“So . . . just the three of us. Huh.” I looked from Chesa to Matthew. “You guys ready to go?”
“Reborn ready,” Matthew said. “Let’s light this candle.”
“Do we really have to go through your domain?” Chesa asked. “I’m a little nervous finding out what my ex-boyfriend’s mythic ideal is like. Can’t you just go there, get whatever you need, and bring it back here?”
“What, you’re expecting legions of waifus or something?” I asked. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing that pathetic. We’re going to be leaving directly from there to Ragnarok.”
“You mean Folksvangr,” Esther said. “Right?”
“Whatever,” I said with a shrug. “So, what, you’re going to open a portal or something?”
“Something like that,” Revna said. “You have everything you need?”
I lifted the grease-spotted pillowcase with a smile.
“Then let us begin,” Revna said. “Security! Get these buffoons out of here.”
“Security?”
The floor rumbled and shifted under our feet. The tables slid like cannons on the deck of a storm-tossed ship. Two shapes rose from the ground, with rough-hewn rock faces and skin as rough as sandpaper, and eyes that glowed like magma. Revna gestured to the three of us.
“They’ve overstayed their welcome. Send them home.”
“Esther!” I shouted as the stone elementals loomed toward us.
“There are only two ways out of Valhalla,” Esther said. “Walk out the way you came, or get thrown out. And the way you came leads back to a suburban parking lot, so . . .”
“Try to land on something soft!” Revna called, as the elementals picked the three of us up, each with one giant hand. They waddled toward the front of the ballroom and, with a slow windup, tossed us through the front window.
The second the glass shattered around my shoulders, the world changed around us. The dim light of the parking lot was replaced by smothering night. A crystal-bright moon shone overhead. Below us was an expanse of forest that stretched to the horizon. We were hundreds of feet in the air, but I could just make out a pinprick of light, nestled in a clearing far below.
Home. Now all we had to do was fall the hundreds of feet between here and there.
“You’re not going to like this part!” I shouted to Chesa and Matthew. They probably couldn’t hear me, though, on account of their own screams of terror. I crossed my arms and plummeted to earth, the cold wind whipping past my face. I sighed. “Ah, it’s good to be home.”
My domain is all about fear. I should have mentioned that to Chesa and Matthew before we did this, but that would have spoiled some of the effect. Plus if they knew that, they might have anticipated something even more horrific than falling to their death, and I didn’t want to see whatever spirits ran the domain taking their fears and running with it. So instead of being chased by flying knives, or eaten by giants, or whatever it was that Chesa and Matthew would have thought up, we simply fell to our deaths.
Not actually. We fell for a long time, screaming the whole way, but when we hit the ground we bounced a couple times. Kind of like a trampoline, only it was the earth itself. I’d done this a dozen times, and was getting used to it. Chesa had been through this once, though that was before she had her own domain. For Matthew, this was a first.
“You should have warned us!” the priest yelled once we’d come to a halt. “I assumed she’d thrown us straight to Hel. Good God, that was terrifying!”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Fear, and overcoming fear. Though how you overcome the fear of falling when you’re actually falling . . . Yeah, I’m not sure about that.” I led us up the gentle hill to my cabin. It was the same as I’d left it, only no longer on a quiet street. Thin smoke rose from the mossy chimney, and the flames of the hearth flickered against the thick, wavy glass of the front window. “Anyway, we’re here. Everything seems to be in order.”
“This is your mythic domain? This is the best you could come up with?” Chesa asked. “You could create anything, and you settled on a cabin in a creepy forest?”
“We’re not all elven princesses,” Matthew said. He wiped the sweat from his face and looked around the clearing. “I like it, John. Humble.”
“That’s what I was going for. Humble.” I eased the front door open and, sword and shield in hand, peered into the front room. Seeing Chesa give me a weird look, I tried to explain. “Last time I was here, Percy was hiding in the kitchen. I don’t know what he has to do with all this, but I’d rather not stumble onto any more zombies.”
“Great domain, John. You’re not even safe here,” she said as she brushed past. “Is there at least a bathroom?”
“You don’t want to know about the bathroom,” I said. “Should have gone before we left.”
“Anything can be a bathroom if you try hard enough,” Matthew said. He sat down in front of the fireplace, hands steepled in his lap. “I smell soup!”
“Yeah, a pot of eternal stew in the kitchen. It may not be a treehouse castle, or the brilliance of a chorus of angels, but it’s still tasty.”
“Sure sounds good,” Matthew said.
“It is.” I stuck my nose into the kitchen, saw nothing of interest, then started toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Matthew cleared his throat. When I looked back, he blinked at me expectantly. “Would you like some stew?”
“I mean, if you’re offering.”
“I wasn’t,” I said. His mien remained unchanged, so after a long second I sighed and headed back to the kitchen. “Just keep an eye on this hallway. Should be empty, but you never know.”
“Loving this place more and more by the second,” Chesa said. She perched uncomfortably against one of the chairs, legs crossed daintily. “Do we really have time for stew?”
“Apparently,” I said.
When I ducked into the kitchen, I ran directly into a cleaver the size of my head, held precariously close to the parts of my head that were most incompatible with cleavers. I yelped and scrambled to bring my sword around. The sound of my scream brought Matthew and Chesa running, and startled my assailant just enough to cause him to drop the cleaver.
Percy backpedaled into the stove, upsetting the pot of soup and burning himself on the hot metal. He joined his scream to my own, accompanied by the sound of several gallons of scalding hot stew spilling out across the kitchen floor. Chesa and Matthew burst into the room, weapons drawn.
“Percy, damn it! What are you doing here? How are you doing here, for that matter?” I shook the now-soaked leg of my greaves, slopping bits of stew around the room. “I looked in here not ten seconds ago, and the room was empty!”
“I . . . I’m not sure, Sir John,” the terrified zombie said. “All I know is that I wasn’t here, and then I was, and I heard sounds in the antechamber. I took up the first weapon I could find, and that’s when you burst in like some kind of barbarian.”
“I’m not the one sneaking around other people’s houses and threatening them with kitchen implements!” I shouted. “If anything, you’re the barbarian!”
