Chapter 50 Freya
“Where is he?” I demanded, only to gag as Bjorn’s face melted, only to re-form as Harald’s.
“Burned alive in Grindill, I expect.” Harald took up a large rock in one hand.
No. No nono.
“Thank you for rescuing me, Freya. I dare say, I’d not have escaped if it weren’t for your bravery. Never mind that you ruined a lifetime of work, you little bitch.” The last came out as a snarl, and he took a step in my direction, bouncing the rock in his hand.
“You wove your own fate, Harald.” Hate and grief burned in my chest, but I drew the seax Gyda had given me. The knife was the only weapon I had. “By manipulating the lives of everyone around you with no care for the hurt you caused, only for the control you gained. You destroyed lives for nothing more than your own amusement, and if your cabal has turned on you, it is your own doing.”
“I made them powerful.”
“You made them slaves to vengeance.” I circled, desperately wishing I had my sword and shield. “Then used them to further your own schemes. You might have succeeded for many years longer, but your ambition outreached your skill.”
“The only mistake I made was not killing you when I had the chance,” he hissed. “You ruined everything!”
“It’s a talent.” I readied for the attack. “And I’m not finished yet.”
Harald’s lip curled in a snarl, then he threw his rock. It struck my magic-coated hand and exploded off, landing with a splash in the river.
“Nice attempt—” I broke off, because Harald hadn’t been trying to hit me. He’d been trying to distractme.
While he shape-shifted into a monstrous version of Hati.
Fear filled my chest, and I took one step back. Then another. All while the black wolf prowled closer, lips pulled back in a snarl that revealed cruel fangs.
I held up my hand, Hlin’s magic glowing bright. Wolf or not, if he leaped at me, he’d be thrown back with twice the force.
Then my ankle twisted in the river rocks, pain spiking up my leg. As I fell, my arms went back to brace myself and all I saw was a flash of midnight fur and murderous fangs.
A scream tore from my lips as I tried to move my magic back between me and death. But I was too slow.
Then fire flared above me. It slammed into the wolf and sent it toppling sideways with a yelp of pain. I scrambled to my feet and snatched up a rock, ready to throw myself at the wolf-Harald and beat him to a pulp, but he disappeared into the trees and was gone.
“Freya!”
I turned. “Bjorn?”
He was on the far side of the river, axe once again in hand. Our eyes locked, then he was running. Wading through the rushing water and out the other side, and then I was in his arms. Wrapped in the warmth of him, his familiar scent filling my nose as I buried my face in his neck and wept. “You’re alive,” I sobbed. “You’re alive, you’re alive.”
“I told you that I’d have your back until we step through the gates of Valhalla.” He pressed his face to my hair. “Death was never an option.”
I clung to him, unwilling to let go even as part of me thought that it must be a dream for him to even be here. “How?” The word was choked. “How are you here?”
“Kaja.” Above us, the merlin gave a fierce cry, then soared back to the fortress. Bjorn lowered me so that my feet were again on the ground, though his arms remained wrapped possessively aroundme.
I illuminated my hand, grimacing at the wound in his shoulder. “You’re hurt.”
“Skade’s arrow, so the wound is clean.” He let go of me with obvious reluctance, and I noted that it was in his left hand that his axe appeared.
“I’m going to kill her. I’m going to cut out her heart for doing this to you.”
“You’ll have to bring her back to life.” Bjorn lowered his head to kiss me. “She’s dead. Geir killed her.”
I’d have liked to kill her myself, but it was fitting that it had been my brother who’d delivered vengeance to the one who’d killed our mother. Yet we had more pressing concerns, and my gaze turned to the forest wolf-Harald had disappeared into. “You hit him.”
“It wasn’t a good blow.” Bjorn lifted his axe and took several steps away, revealing a splatter of blood on the rocks. “Injured but not badly enough to kill him. Just badly enough to make him dangerous.”
I glanced at the cliff tops. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“Guthrum. He’ll bring the others, but if we wait for reinforcements, we’ll lose Harald’s trail and never catch him again. He can become anyone but no matter who he becomes, he’ll never let this go. We need to put an end to him now.”
The only weapon I had was my seax. No shield other than magic on my hand. My Hel power would not harm him, and in this form, Harald was lethal.
But so werewe.
“Then we hunt.” I adjusted my grip on my short blade. “Do you want to go first or shallI?”
“You, I think. You’re braver.” Bjorn grinned and started into the woods, following the trail of blood. I rolled my eyes and kept to his heels, my eyes on the shadows for any sign of motion.
The woods were strangely silent, all the animals who normally filled the night with their calls seeming to be holding their breath. I didn’t blame them. Too easily could I call to mind Harald’s wolf form, bigger than any I’d ever seen. Yet it was the mind behind the teeth that I feared, for Harald was clever.
“Where did you hit him?” I asked, noting the irregularity of the wolf’s tracks. “He’s running on only three legs but there is little blood.”
“Shoulder.” Bjorn bent to examine a drop of crimson. “But the fire will have cauterized it to some extent, which might explain the lack of blood.”
His eyes flicked to mine, suggesting another alternative, which was that Harald was not injured nearly as badly as the tracks indicated.
My pulse escalated, my hand icy yet slick with sweat around the seax’s hilt. Because there was a possibility we were not the hunters.
But the prey.
“Do you think he can see in the dark?” Every shadow seemed to be moving. “And hear with the skill of a true wolf?”
“Likely,” Bjorn replied. “But given that you are glowing and keep asking questions, I’m quite confident he knows where we are, Born-in-Fire.”
My cheeks warmed, but his teasing eased my fear. “Should we extinguish the magic, then? For the sake of stealth?”
“Let’s try silence, first.”
I drew in a steadying breath and stepped carefully through the woods, watching to the sides and behind, but with my magic covering my hand, there was nothing but blackness beyond the pool of light.
A snapping branch echoed to my left, and I jerked in that direction, heart in my throat. Certain I heard panting breath, I held my own, but silence once again reigned over the forest, and Bjorn pressedon.
Only to draw to a stop a dozen paces later. “Trail ends.”
I moved next to him, noting that the trail of paw prints and blood had vanished, almost as though he’d taken flight. Catching Bjorn’s eye, I flapped my arms like a bird only for him to shake his head and gesture to his shoulder. No flying, then.
Yet how did we hunt a man who could become any creature, take on any living shape? In the songs, Loki himself took on the shape of a fly, and how did one hunt something so small in the darkness? I did not know the rules his kind were bound to, and frustration began to take hold.
Then a drop of something warm splattered against my cheek.
I yanked my arm upward, magic illuminating a large shadow falling, all fangs and teeth. No longer a wolf but a giant cat. A scream tore from my throat, death seeming certain, but the shadow struck my magic and flipped through the air. It slammed into Bjorn with a feline shriek of rage.
A gasp of pain filled my ears.
The sizzle of burning fur.
Then it was gone into the night.
“Oh gods,” I breathed, seeing claw marks forming crimson rows down Bjorn’s chest, blood already dampening the waistband of his trousers. “This is madness. We need to get Geir and the others to help us hunt.”
“By the time we find them and return, he’ll be long gone.” Bjorn lifted his axe, moving in the direction the cat had gone. “We kill him now.”
He broke into a run, weaving through the trees. I could not see what trail he followed or how he knew which way Harald had gone, but I had no choice but to chase after him.
I tripped and stumbled over deadfall and roots, nearly sprawling more times than I could count. “Bjorn!”
“I can see him. I can see him running and I’m going to fucking kill him!”
“Bjorn!”
No sooner did his name leave my lips did Bjorn disappear from sight, and I only barely managed to slide to a stop, teetering at the edge of a pit.
An old game trap, hastily covered by Harald. From its depths Bjorn looked up at me. “Are you all right?” I demanded. “Are you hurt?”
“Behind you!”
I whirled, lifting my seax, but claws raked across my back. I shrieked and lashed out at the dark shape, but Harald was already slinking back into the shadows.
Neither cat nor wolf.
Not any creature of this world, but a monster of Harald’s creation.
I’d never really seen Harald fight, which meant that I’d badly underestimated how dangerous he truly was.
“Freyaaaaa,” the creature whispered, voice distorted through inhuman vocal cords. “Freyaaaa!”
“Just defend yourself,” Bjorn shouted. “I’m climbing out!”
“Hurry,” I whispered, watching the creature circle. It glittered with spines and midnight scales, red tongue flickering out between rows of fangs. Muscled limbs were tipped with claws as long as my hand, and though a deep wound in its shoulder seeped blood, the injury seemed not to trouble it in the slightest.
And I was armed with a blade only the length of my forearm.
“Finally adopted your true form, I see.” I kept circling, one eye on the hole in the ground, the other on the beast. “Much more suited to your character.”
The creature made a noise that might have passed as a laugh. “Long have I desired to cut out your foolish tongue,” it hissed. “To silence the endless idiocy that pours from your mouth.”
“Is this to be death by a thousand insults, then?” I asked, willing Bjorn to climb faster, though I knew he’d be hindered by his injured shoulder. “If so, you should have asked Ylva to stand in for you in this as well. She’s much more cutting.”
Harald snarled, then spat, and I stepped away from the spraying black substance. It sizzled where it struck the ground, and my pulse ratcheted up a notch. Gods, what I wouldn’t have given for my shield. For my sword. To not have run headlong into a fight where it seemed I was woefully overmatched.
It swiped a clawed foreleg at me, and I struck, but it was already skittering back only to do the same again. Wearing me down.
But I wasn’t the one who was injured. I could keep deflecting attacks until Bjorn got out of the hole, and—
The thought died on my lips, for Harald had withdrawn, serpent’s eyes considering. Then he changed, melting and re-forming. Himself again but with multiple tentacles sprouting from his body, each with a talon on the end.
“Bjorn!” I screamed. “Fucking climb!”
A tentacle lashed toward me and I blocked it, but another one was already flying at my side, talon gleaming. I dived away, rolling to my feet and barely managing to block another strike.
Only for another to swipe at my legs.
I fell onto my back, and the impact nearly knocked my seax from my grip. Cursing, I rolled, a talon glancing off my chain mail vest. Another scaled tentacle swiped at my head, and I lifted my seax to slice off the tip.
A heartbeat later, pain lanced through my thigh and I realized my error. Harald laughed through his fanged mouth as he backed away.
My thigh was pulsing blood in the light of my magic, but it was the horrible burn that sent terror rushing through my veins. The talons were venomous.
“Foolish girl,” Harald cackled, sitting back on his haunches, clearly content to watch me slowly die. “Useless magic of a minor god, and what valuable magic you have is ineffective. Hel will not harm me out of… familial loyalty. ”
I pushed up onto my hands and knees.
Harald only laughed. “One must admire your determination. But it is I who will weave your fate, Freya, not you. Mine is the stronger thread.”
“Is this the fate you desired, Harald?” I got to my feet. My leg was in agony, so weak it would barely hold my weight. “Your cabal, lost. Your kingdom, lost. Your power, lost.”
His tentacles quivered, revealing his anger, and I kept a wary distance, circling. My eyes on the glow of fire in the hole.
I limped sideways. “I achieved my destiny, Harald. I united Skaland by controlling my own fate, which means that all of this is my doing, not yours. Saga’s vision has come to pass, and I wonder how it feels to know that despite everything you have done, all your tricks and manipulations, that you could not change the future she saw. Mine is the stronger thread.”
“Then allow me to cut it short!” He lunged at me, tentacles flashing through the air and knocking my seax from my grip, the weapon lost to the shadows.
But as he did, Bjorn’s axe cut into the earth next to the hole and he dragged himself out. Muddy and bloodied, he lifted his axe and hurledit.
Flame flipped end over end through the air, and Harald shrieked as one of his tentacles was severed, another nearlyso.
“I hope that part wasn’t important to your man-form,” Bjorn said, axe reappearing in his left hand, right arm dangling limp at his side. “I’m not entirely certain what goes where.”
Harald snarled, and more tentacles exploded from his sides, lashing out wildly. Bjorn sliced and severed, but there were too many. It was only a matter of time until one struck true, Bjorn’s fate determined by that awful black venom at the tips of those talons.
Mine already was.
There was only one way to end this.
Guile. Not force.
Feeling my strength fading, I flung myself on the creature’s back and wrapped my arms around its neck.
“I curse myself,” I whispered, feeling my magic surge. “Hel, take my body from this mortal realm.”
Roots erupted from the earth, wrapping around my body and pulling me back. Harald tried to extricate himself from my grip, but I got my good leg around him and held on. The roots dragged me into the earth, and because his blood was as divine as my own, I took Harald withme.
Dirt pressed in all around and denied me breath, but then we were falling.
I let go of Harald and caught hold of Yggdrasil’s roots, stopping my plunge while he carried on and on. My leg burned, and I could feel his venom stealing my strength. Slowly killingme.
“Freya!”
Bjorn’s voice was distant. So very distant, and yet I still looked up, imagining that I could see him digging. Trying to go after me, though his magic did not give him the power to cross between realms.
I could climb back up to him, and maybe we could get help. Maybe Volund would reach me in time. Maybe I could have the future I dreamed of for myself, a life with the man I loved that wasn’t touched by terror and violence.
I could weave that fate.
Reaching up, I heaved, dragging myself higher. Only to hear motion below.
Peering through the roots, I saw that Harald was alive and back in his human form, though he was bleeding heavily from several wounds, one hand almost entirely missing. Still, he rose to his feet, and I heard him whisper, “Sister, I need your aid.”
And beyond the gates to Helheim, I heard the soft thud of giant feet approaching.
No.
No, I could not let this happen. Could not let Hel aid her mortal half brother and set Harald loose again upon the world. I refused.
“Freya!”
The desperation in Bjorn’s distant scream tore at my heart, and I cast one last look up into the darkness, silently whispering, Please forgiveme.
Then I began to work my way down the tree’s mighty roots, arms and legs trembling as Harald’s venom continued to work its way throughme.
His heavy breathing betrayed his distress, but Harald was walking toward the gates to Hel’s realm beyond which the sound of the goddess approaching was growing.
I had to put an end to him, and time was running short.
Sliding the rest of the way down the roots, I dropped through empty air to land with a thud on the road. My legs buckled, and I fell to my knees. When I lifted my face, Harald was staring at me with a strange mix of fear and rage.
For a heartbeat, I thought he’d move to attack, but instead he stumbled down the road toward the bridge, the gates to Helheim on the far side. My body was weak, each breath a struggle, but Harald was leaving a heavy trail of blood.
The noise of the river grew louder, black waters rippling beneath the bridge, and the hound who guarded the gates rose to its feet and approached, eyes full of interest.
And recognition.
Garmr’s lips curled back at the sight of me, but I ignored the creature and flung myself at Harald’s back. We went down in a heap, grappling and rolling, fists flying. Though we were both too weak to do much damage to each other.
His skin rippled beneath my grip as he tried to change form, but it was as though he could not grasp other shapes, mutating between half-formed beasts with no reason to them.
My breathing was ragged, the world spinning in and out of focus and my heart stuttering.
We were both dying—it was only a matter of who would pass first.
You can do this, I silently chanted. You can stop him for good.
Harald went still.
He’s dead. You did it, he’s dead.
My strength abandoned me in that moment, my grip loosening on his body. I’d defeated Harald, and not a moment too soon, because my own end felt near.
His corpse shuddered.
I stiffened, praying to the gods it was nothing more than muscle spasms after death.
But then Harald’s body began to lengthen.
Elongating into a horrifying mix of man and serpent, it slithered onto the bridge. Re-forming, Harald coughed up blood. “You cannot win this.”
And the moment to try to defeat him was over, for the gates to Helheim had opened and Hel emerged. As before, her enormous form began to shrink as she walked away from her realm, and she was human-sized when she reached Harald.
“Aid me, sister,” he begged. “Please.”
Hel cocked her head, the living side seeming bemused though the dead side of her face was impassive as always. Instead of answering him, she growled, “I have not forgotten that you stole from me, daughter. You owe me a debt. You owe me your soul.”
My throat moved as I swallowed, for I had known this was the risk. Not just to be parted from Bjorn in life but in death as well. “If you agree not to aid him, you can have me.”
“You are in no position to bargain. Your mortal life fades, and I will take what belongs to me.”
“Freya does not belong to you,” a female voice said from behind me. “I made sure of that twenty-one years ago when I tempered your blood with my own.”
Hel’s amusement fell away even as shock struck me silent.
For striding toward us was a warrior goddess. Her blond war braids hung down to her waist, a shield resting on her back and a sword belted at her side.
It was like looking into a face I’d known all of my life. Like looking into the eyes of my mother.
“Hlin,” I croaked out. “You’re here.”
The goddess’s mouth curved up in a half smile. “I once told your mortal mother that if you were only given avarice, your words would be curses. But if you were gifted altruism, what divine power you might make your own was a fate yet unwoven. Except my blood was no more a gift than Hel’s, was it?”
Hlin knelt on one knee before me, then her hand curved around my cheek. “To care for others is a burden, but you have shouldered it better than I dared to hope. You tore apart the grim weavings the Norns had for this land and its people beneath the rule of Loki’s son, and their fingers work swiftly on their looms to rebuild the tapestries of fates around your thread, which shines silver-bright. I am proud to call you daughter, Freya Born-in-Fire, for you have honored my blood.”
Her expression cooled as her gaze returned to Hel. “That you fell for Freya’s trick does not put her in your debt. If you want her soul, you must fight for it.”
“Fight whom?” Hel’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “No one else stands ready to claim her and you have no hall for the dead. Freya is mine.”
Hlin didn’t answer, only smiled.
The ground quivered, enormous figures appearing all around, and the air seemed to compress with the weight of so much divinity. It seemed as though every one of the gods had come to witness this fight, just as they had all come that night on Fjalltindr.
Hel’s lips pursed in irritation and, reaching down, she touched Harald.
In a heartbeat, he was made whole.
Snickering, Harald stood with his hands on his hips. “You still lose, Freya.”
Turning, he started down the far side of the bridge, laughing as he went.
Pushing to my feet, I covered my hand with Hlin’s magic and then met the gaze of one of the gods who stood watching on, fire dancing across his palms. “Tyr,” I whispered. “Can you lend me his flame?”
The corner of the god’s mouth turned up, then he reached into Yggdrasil’s roots and pulled.
Bjorn’s axe appeared in my hand, burning with deadly intensity, but the fire did not touch me through my magic. Lifting it over my head, I heaved, watching it flip end over end, my aim as true as it had been the first time I’d thrown the weapon.
Silence stretched, broken only when Harald cackled, “It was a good attempt, Born-in-Fire. ”
He took two quick steps back, appearing ready to run, but then his gaze fell upon the corpse at his feet.
On his own skull, severed in half by Bjorn’s axe.
“No,” he whispered. “Not possible.”
“You are nothing more than a soul now.” I let go of Bjorn’s axe and it vanished. “You have lost.”
Harald’s eyes desperately searched the darkness as though he might find salvation. “Father? Father!”
“Loki is not here,” Tyr answered. “He mislikes watching his schemes come to unsatisfying ends.”
“It isn’t over!” Harald shrieked. “This is not the end!”
He turned to scamper off into the mists, only to draw up short, Saga blocking his path.
“You!” He recoiled from her. “It’s not possible!”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, Harald.” She shoved her hands into his chest, driving him back. “You took my life.”
Shove.
“You killed my people.”
Shove.
“You hurt my son!”
Saga gave him one final shove, Harald stumbling and nearly falling.
Her eyes then locked with mine, and Saga said, “Tell Bjorn that I love him.”
My lips parted, every part of me wanting her to tell Bjorn herself, but Saga flung herself at Harald, knocking him back.
“Thank you, Freya,” she whispered as they fell through the gates of Helheim, souls now bound to the realm of the goddess of death. The gates slowly shut behind them.
I dropped to my knees.
“Your end is near, daughter,” Hlin murmured. “I have not the power to change that, and I think that Hel will not aid you as she did her brother.”
With the way Hel was watching me with greedy eyes, she would do anything to claim the opportunity of taking my soul into her keeping.
“You are mine, Freya.” Hel smiled. “You will wander my halls until the end of days.”
Then the ground beneath me trembled, and all the gods around me lowered their heads as yet another appeared.
A warrior with but one eye held out his hand to me. “I claim you, Freya Born-in-Fire. You will fight well in the last battle.”
I stared at the Allfather’s palm.
The offer of Valhalla.
Hel shrieked in fury, but Odin only cast a dark look in her direction, and she scrambled back, cowering.
Meeting Odin’s eye, I shook my head. “Not yet. I’m not finished. I have to try to get back to him.”
Turning to Hlin, the goddess who had shaped the light part of my soul but also the one who had caused me the most pain, I asked, “Will you help me climb, Mother?”
Hlin nodded. “I will bring you to the base of Yggdrasil, Freya. But you must win yourself free of this place.”
Putting her shoulder beneath mine, Hlin lifted, and then it was as though I were flying. She leaped from root to root, climbing with a speed I could scarcely comprehend, everything around her illuminated by silver light. The scent of damp earth filled my nose, and Hlin arrested her momentum before steadying me on a thick root.
“I cannot see your future,” she said. “I do not know what will happen next, Freya. Show me.”
Then she was gone.
I reached for the earth above me only for my strength to falter. Suddenly, I was certain that Hlin had not seen my future because I had none. That Harald had struck the final blow, his venom the death ofme.
“If I cannot have your soul today, then I do not wish for Odin to have it either.” Hel’s voice filtered up through the tree’s roots. “You have power over death, daughter. Power over the dead. And the Unfated never lose their magic just as they never lose the power to choose the weave of destiny. Use that knowledge to save yourself.”
“How?” I tried to shout but it came out as a whisper. And Hel did not respond, the only sound the thud of the gates to Helheim closing behind her.
Power over the dead.
My eyes squeezed shut. Think.
And the answer came.
“Hel,” I whispered. “Grant me your power.”
Heat roiled through me, and though I knew not his name, I knew his face. Knew the feel of every soul I’d sent to her, and I called. The roots of the tree shook, and the leader of the Islunders that I’d cursed climbed next to me, still wearing his bear helm.
“We underestimated you, shield maiden,” he said. “And paid a heavy price. Though, judging from the corpse below, not as heavy as Harald of Nordeland.”
“I need you to do something for me,” I whispered.
“Why should I?” he asked. “You cursed me to Helheim. Denied me Valhalla.”
It was tempting to remind him that those who turned children into thralls did not deserve glory, but for once, I held my tongue. He met my gaze for a long moment, then gave a resigned sigh.
“My brother was one of those whose name Harald stole, bound, and forced to serve. One of his Nameless,” the Islunder said. “In killing Harald, you killed the volva whose magic imprisoned him. In killing Harald, you freed my brother, and if he yet lives, he is free. For that, I will grant you one favor, shield maiden.”
“I need you to find me someone.” And with what was near to the last of my strength, I whispered a name.
Seconds passed. Or a lifetime. I didn’t know. Only that when I opened my eyes again, Liv perched next to me on a root, the healer’s familiar smile tearing a sob of relief from my throat. “This is what you get for allowing yourself to be won over by good looks and a charming smile, Freya,” Liv said. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”
“One would think,” I whispered. “But wisdom has never been my strength.”
Liv laughed and then took hold of my hands. “Eir, give me the strength to help my friend.”
Her hands glowed, warmth filling me, and Liv smiled. “If you can fight your way free of this place, you will leave behind his poison.” She let go of my hands. “Climb!”
I punched my fist into the dirt above me and heaved. A groan of pain tore from my lips because the venom Harald had put into my veins was like a leash holding me back. Yet as I heaved upward, a glance down revealed strands of black ichor stretching between my body and Liv’s hands.
Tensing my muscles, I dug my other fist into the dirt and pulled. The pain was like nothing I’d ever felt before and I screamed.
I could not do this.
I could not.
“Freya!”
“Bjorn.” His name came out as little more than a whisper and, sucking in a breath, I shouted, “Bjorn!”
Digging my hands into the damp earth, I began to crawl back to him. Clawing through earth and stone, I dragged my dying body back into the mortal realm, fighting toward the sound of his voice even as my strength failed, my heart stuttering in my chest. Breath kept from me by more than just the dirt pressing all around.
If I could just make it to him, I would live.
If we were together, we could have a future.
I controlled my fate.
I controlled my fate.
I controlledmy—