The Fox and the Falcon (No Other Gods #2)

Chapter Fourteen

The wolves led the way with Fauna as their master, leashed with an invisible tether. We trailed behind as we trudged through the sickening slurps and loamy soil of the marsh. I didn’t miss the polished bones scattered throughout our path, but I was no longer afraid. I did wonder what sort of prey was large enough to sustain a wolf pack, but then again, far stranger things had happened today than the ecosystem of a marsh lake.

After all, we were here to meet with a god-killer.

Estrid alone could famously fight man or fae.

Fauna could handle whatever nature threw our way.

Hafna’s fog did not lift. Instead, we remained in the dense cloud, a gray-white world free from sun or sky or anything that could indicate the passage of time. Only the ache in my lungs, the burn of my thighs as my legs battled the ground with each and every step, and the carnation-red bloom through the bandages of my injured shoulder confirmed that we’d been walking for a long, long time.

The crumbling of ancient mountains, the crack of thunder, the rumble of earthquakes, the splintering of frozen lakes filled me as a single question pierced the fog.

“Who disturbs me?”

I wasn’t sure what stopped first—my heart, or my breathing. The party around me froze. I caught the smallest flick of Fauna’s fingers as she released the pack. They scrambled free like mice before a cat.

Fauna took three silent steps backward until she was at my side. Slipping an arm behind me, she planted her hand on my lower back and urged me ahead of the group.

“What—”

“Tell him,” she whispered.

Tell who? I wanted to demand. I saw nothing through the thick wall of white. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. I knew in my core that it belonged to Fenrir.

The drugs had loosened my tongue as I spilled our motives to Ella, Estrid, and my ancestors. Telling the bringer of Ragnarok why I’d trudged through Hafna’s bog to find him was another matter entirely.

“I…” I stammered, looking at Fauna with wide, pleading eyes. I shot a look over my shoulder at Ella and Estrid, but they gave me tight, urgent looks to hurry. I swallowed as I turned my face forward. Fauna gave me another short shove, and as if the hand forced the message from my diaphragm and out of my mouth, the words escaped me. “We need help killing a god,” I said.

A low chuckle.

I tried again, sweat and fear and adrenaline spiking me like the bites of thousands of ants. I felt them on every part of me, pinching me, wounding me, filling me. I was worried my heart would catch in my throat and I’d choke on its flutter before I could say what needed to be said. “I’m Merit. And I’m…well, I suppose I’m positioning myself against a couple gods at the moment.”

It was the least convincing sentence in the history of mortal languages. I was fucking up. I was dropping the ball. Gods and goddesses, I didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to pull myself together to address someone—or some thing —so ancient, so worthy, so omnipotent. I wished Fauna would take over, that she’d speak over me as she so often did. But no. She left this to me.

The pause that followed contained an energetic charge, but not of disapproval. I could feel curiosity as it tingled through the mist.

“I’m…” I didn’t know how to say what I was. It felt hollow on my lips. I’d only heard it said by others, but I knew the weight it carried. “I’m the Prince of Hell’s human.”

The low, deep voice growled, “Oh?”

I couldn’t fully comprehend why the words mattered, but they elicited the desired reaction. Maybe everyone wanted to garner favor with a powerful realm. Perhaps they all saw Caliban’s mention as a reason to hasten their claims or rush my allegiances, as had Silas and Fauna, in their own ways. Whatever it was, no one responded to the statement with neutrality.

“There’s more,” I swallowed. “The king of Heaven set out to have me bond with an angel. He intended to turn the war tide in their favor, against Hell. And one thing led to another and…I’m more or less responsible for the death of Astarte. Now her sister, Anath, has the Prince.”

“So,” said the voice, deep as the trenches at the bottom of the sea, “you’ve made enemies of gods from two realms, and you seek me because you’d like to make enemies of three?”

I looked at Fauna.

“The time has come,” Fauna said to the beast beyond the mist. “Listen to her.”

At my side, Ella nodded with hopeful encouragement for me to continue.

“I’m Nordic,” I said uncertainly. “Partly. It’s why I’m here. It’s why Fauna—” I was making it worse. I had no idea what I was saying. I had no idea what to say to a god so powerful that he’d made Odin tremble to bring about the Twilight of the Gods, as they’d called it. “I have no qualms with the Nordes. To be honest, I don’t even hate the Phoenician gods, or the god of Heaven. But Astarte and Anath kept a god—Dagon—captive for hundreds of years to serve their agenda.”

A low snarl emanated from the dense, white void.

I pressed on. “The god of Heaven has attempted to use me as a pawn in his war, and the angels who serve him have no say in their lives. We’re slaves to their whims and agendas. Now the one I love is in the Phoenician realm because he stood against the will of a powerful deity. I just don’t believe gods should be able to make choices on behalf of others without their consent.”

“That, human,” said the voice, “is how I feel precisely.”

“Will you help me?”

The dense cloud thrummed with tension while I waited for his answer.

“You’ll cut me free?”

“I will,” I said. I didn’t know much of Ella’s precious knife, but if she believed the treasure could cut the chain, then I trusted her judgment.

“And you have a plan, human? Or have you come to waste my time?”

I looked over my shoulder toward Fauna, but saw only mist. “I have something better than a plan. I have spite, fire, motive, and a powerful team.”

“Why should I not take my freedom and run from those who might capture me once more?” he asked. “What would I get in return for aiding you?”

After a long pause, I landed on the only answer that made sense to me. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as the word filled me. It tingled in my fingertips, dancing on the tip of my tongue as I realized that I did not want to make a deal. I didn’t want to return Fenrir to this marshy purgatory. I didn’t want to give him anything that he himself didn’t want.

Smile still on my face, I offered a single word.

“Anarchy.”

***

Finding Fenrir was the hardest part. It had been arduous, terrifying, and had left me with a throbbing wound to the shoulder. As Geir had not joined our party, blood trickled freely from where I’d been gored by the wolf. My companions remained deathly still as I outlined the terms of our agreement while skirting the binding oaths of the immortal. I would set the wolf of Ragnarok free. What he did with his liberation was none of my business.

Ella exhaled slowly as she stepped into the cloud bank and was swallowed by its opaque walls. Seconds stretched into minutes without a sound. I wasn’t sure how long I was supposed to wait before I asked Fauna or Estrid what we needed to do.

A small grunt, the ring of metal striking metal, and a sharp growl cut through the air. I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted, almost as if I’d been staring at static for far too long. The sun made a distant, muddied appearance. It grew clearer with every passing moment as the mist thinned, evaporating as it leached from the island and washed over the dark lake that surrounded us on all sides.

As the fog disappeared, I craned my neck, expecting to see a wolf the size of a mountain. The large shape before me was not that of an animal, but an enormous boulder. I heard metal against rock and caught the glint of something as the sun pierced through at long last.

I saw Ella. I saw a rock. I saw the silver-white gleam of the tether that had contained the god-killer. But I scanned the space in search of a giant who was nowhere to be seen.

Prancing toward me over the marsh was a dog wagging its tail.

Not a titan, as I knew one.

Not a monster.

Not even a wolf.

The long black and reddish coat of a large wild dog caught in the sunlight. Its sable, shepherd-like tail trailed behind it. It took a seat in front of me and looked up at me with wickedly deep, wise eyes. I looked away from it only long enough to see that, as the fog fully lifted, I was in the empty, marshy wilds with no other beast to be seen—only green clumps of grass, sitting water, clusters of gnats, and the white shapes of long-dead trees.

The beautiful dog looked at Fauna and huffed before turning his attention to me.

“Fenrir?” I barely breathed his name.

Without opening its mouth, it said, “Shall we get started?”