Chapter 13 Trust #2
“You feel conflict now about your life’s purpose, which is driving your Berserker’s nature,” I say as I finally understand what’s devouring him right now.
“After Hekla convinced you of her visions, you had faith; you felt you had a destiny, which could redeem you of what you did. Now, you feel like all that is being stripped away as your innermost temptation and darkness rises again. Like that destiny is gone, along with your belief in it… and it’s never coming back. ”
“You think I’m the brightest light in your Bloodbond, but really, I’m nothing but an imposter, Rikyava.
” A terrible smile takes Baldur now, twisted with darkness and regret.
“I’m nothing but a killer who wants to be a god and do it all over again.
How’s that for fucked up, when you thought I was carrying your light? ”
“Hey, we’re all fucked up in this bond.” I grip his hand, hard.
“Bjorn has his rage and heinous jealousy, Strom has his agony that he’ll never measure up to the prince he’s supposed to be.
Mikkel… well, Mikkel fears he can never be good, that he’ll always be his dragon.
And you’ve seen what happened to me. I became the Black Dragon, or something very like it, when I mistakenly tried to command that big fucker.
I’m still fighting that, every day. Some dark voice inside me still tells me I could wield it…
if I just gave in to my blackest nature and let my better self die. ”
“But you won’t do that, will you?” Baldur breathes, as something like hope sparks in his eyes, at last. He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek in his palm as a flicker of opal-white finally flares in his dark blue eyes. “You’re going to fight it unto your very last breath, because that’s what you do.”
“Because that’s what I am, Baldur,” I say firmly now as I trap his hand to my cheek, holding his gaze like firebrands.
My truest magic flares all around me now as I feel it rush into my united Bloodwalker energy, Aesa’s Truthstone blazing upon my chest. “I am a warrior, and you are, too. All my drakes are, even Mikkel. None of us ever give up—ever. None of us ever surrender.”
“Galaxy Quest.” Baldur chuckles as that small flicker of star-white brightens in his eyes. “I have seen some modern human media, you know.”
“Good, because you should take that line to heart.” I stare him down hard now.
“You’re a fighter and you know it, Baldur.
You held on eight hundred years because you knew there was something better out there for you than drowning in your guilt at being a murderer and letting it kill you.
You practiced your inner light; you became a better man.
You did all that work; I had nothing to do with it.
I was nothing but a fancy—a vision in your sister’s mind.
Hell, she could have just been making me the fuck up to help you heal. You ever think about that?”
“I didn’t, actually.” Baldur blinks, and I know I got through to him on that one. He draws a deep breath. As he glances over my shoulder at the scroll, still displayed high above on the silver mirror-stone, I see him war with his inner demons as his eyes flicker red, then blue.
Then hold.
“I need to deal with my inner guilt, don’t I? Not just push it aside by trying to be better…” he says, as he looks at me again.
“Yup.” I nod, as I take his hand down from my face and clasp it to my heart.
“Fortunately, there are four of us in this bond who know all about dealing with shit like that, even though we’re all only getting to it recently.
Let us help you, Baldur. Let us in. Because if you can’t do that, if you can’t trust us to hold you in your deepest inner darkness, your Berserk rage at yourself, along with all your most beautiful light…
then we won’t be able to help. And you truly will succumb to your darkness.
Plus, everything that goes along with it. ”
“I’m afraid my inner self-hate will kill you if I let you feel it, Rikyava. It’s that… endless a void, even amongst the stars,” Baldur tells me now, as a terrible look devours his eyes, awful.
“Is it any worse than my self-hate at having nearly turned into a creature like the Black Dragon, almost killing all my drakes, or that I might still do so?” I challenge him now, not backing down.
“Or what about Mikkel’s self-hate at having lost his shit so completely into his Wraith that he got us all into that insane fuck-storm, which nearly killed us in Copenhagen?
Trust us, Baldur; we’re not saints. We’re sinners and lovers, just like you.
And we will fight to our very last breath to save you, along with all the rest of us, from each of our fates worse than death. ”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Baldur breathes as the softest smile takes him now. His blue eyes light at last as he hears my words.
Cosmic, in their shining belief.
“Try me and find out, bitch.” I give an answering smile now, fierce.
“My strong, defiant Hog Skjaldmaer.” Baldur smiles more as he reaches up, brushing a lock of hair back from my face. “My Xena: Warrior Princess.”
“Hey, Lucy Lawless is a badass bitch, and so am I,” I say, though I love Baldur’s human pop culture reference and my firmness comes with a smile. “Bring the wall down, Baldur; let us in. Trust us to hold you when you crumble. And put you back together again, into your faith. Hey?”
I see Baldur take my words and process them. It’s not a small thing, however, to dismantle all your protection mechanisms and trust others to have your back, when all your life, you’ve been doing the opposite.
It’s not an immediate thing now, as I show Baldur what we’ve got to hold him, and he thinks about it. At least he is thinking about it now, though, and that’s immense progress as he nods.
“I want to.” He breathes as he watches me with only blue in his eyes now, no longer red.
“Truly… I do. But it is no small thing to trust others to penetrate my isolation… or that they can help me not get lost in it. For now, I can tell you what I do have. Though my faith in myself has been shaken deeply, I still believe in you, Rikyava. I believe in your beautiful heart and your stalwart ferocity. I still believe you can take down the Black Dragon, the False Knights’ Council, Litha, and anyone else who opposes you. I believe in that.”
“Not without my Fourth Bloodmate,” I say as I squeeze his hand, hard.
“You are an integral part of this, Baldur, the last piece that balances my true Bloodwalker power. Without you, none of this is possible. Without you… my brightest light dies and shrivels up deep inside. Because even though we’ve only known each other a few days, I feel as though I’ve known you for lifetimes.
That is the power of a true life-mate. You’ve blazed your way into my heart and you’re never leaving now.
I’m never leaving you, either. So let’s get crackin’ and figure all this out. Before it takes us down, to dust.”
As I give him my last volley, I feel it finally get through. As Baldur’s blue eyes blaze a searing opal-white now, not quite their brilliant diamond color, but close to it, I know he’s finally feeling genuine hope.
Now is our time to nurture it, as I grip his hands and he grips mine back. Turning on the chaise, I nod at the scrolls.
And challenge him to get real, for the first time in his life.
“Look at Hedda’s writings. Tell me what you feel.”
As he takes a deep breath, Baldur looks.
Then blows his breath out slow—telling me the truth.
“I feel… enraptured when I look at her works.” He stares at the scroll open upon the silver mirror-stone, blowing through with all its infinitesimal runes.
“I feel like all the power of the cosmos and the Void itself is open to me… if I can just sit with these instructions and make more sense of them.”
“Do it. Sit with it. Keep talking,” I command him now, gently but firmly, as I hold him in this powerful space.
“I see… architecture.” Baldur watches the scroll, then suddenly closes his eyes. He tips his head up, and it’s as if he’s listening to cosmic winds dancing, as I feel him place a good part of his attention far out in the Void.
“I feel… majesty,” he murmurs as a trance-like state takes him, though he still grips my hand.
“Hedda was majestic, with what she knew. Seeing her work in the Void, feeling how she navigated her way through the weft and weave of worlds, figuring them out… is like listening to music for me. Ineffable music, powerful music, it blares through my blood like war trumpets and thunders through my bones like battle-drums. With this creation, she left her imprint on the stars. And I want to be like that, to do as she did… regardless of the consequences.”
“What else?” I push him now as we finally get into it. “That’s your darker side talking. What’s your brighter side got to say? Other than criticizing you and telling you that you’re evil?”
“My brighter side says…” Here, Baldur’s brows knit, as if it’s painful to consider, before he clears.
“It says that I’m instrumental in helping you all succeed.
It says that I can do this, that I can navigate my way through my pain and self-hatred, and the temptation to be a god with this power…
to actually help the world and find my redemption. If I’m dragon enough.”
“How do you do that?” I push him harder, hoping he can hold on.
“I…” He pauses. “I learn from Hedda’s works, and evaluate them.
I let my darker magic understand them, so I can create a Soulstone like she did.
I let my mates hold me and help me, being with me every step of the way when I am tempted to go dark.
I communicate with them and let them feel what I’m feeling, so they can step in and help me get control the moment I lose it. Or my faith.”
“Sounds like your higher self is pretty smart.” I smile now, as everything inside me lifts at Baldur’s words. “So, where do we start?”
“We start by evaluating how Hedda imbued Soulstones with the right sigil-binding power to entrap a soul from the Void, and what runes were worked under what conditions to separate that soul from the corporate body.” Baldur seems to go into an even deeper trance now—as if reading Hedda’s works right through the Void itself.
“We have to learn in what way the souls of the Five were bonded to the Black Dragon, and how they might be severed from it now, by using the right, precise ancient Bloodwalker sigil-runes. We’ll need a ritual…
such things are only done with the strongest power to back them up.
Hedda was a Bloodwalker with four mates.
She must have used a Bloodwalking of some kind to stabilize these soul-binding runes into the Black Dragon.
We must do the same, to ritually entrap the souls of the Five away from the Usurper. Into a vessel of our choosing.”
“Once they’re out, the souls of the Five… how do we kill them?” I push, knowing Baldur’s drawing massive information right down from the Void, without a damn drop of blood spilled or any formal Bloodwalking taking place, incredible.
“Draw the souls out of the wights. Trap them in the vessel,” Baldur says suddenly, in a voice that’s not his own, powerful and booming. “Destroy the vessel in true love’s unity, to return the souls to their Ancestors. And sever them from the creature, forever.”
Even as this voice booms all the way through Baldur, however, he’s spent. With a massive tremor, so hard it shudders all the way through him to the bed, then the floor, he’s out.
Falling into my arms as I catch him—unconscious.