Chapter 7
7
Shalendra scowled, disgusted with the entire situation. She just wanted to go home, but her promise to Freyja and her father was getting in the way. How could such a simple thing as searching and finding her aunt and uncle turn into a sinister adventure? She didn’t sign up for realm-crossing diseases or an irritable elf who refused to listen.
He has good reason for his anger, but that is his story to tell. Ashia’s voice whispered through her mind.
Aren’t you taking a risk of being overheard by Arawn and Osiris? They are gods who speak with spirits, which is what you kind of are in your stone form.
We must talk briefly. The Egyptian god is very good at his job and will eventually realize something is off—like a buzzing in his ears. Whether or not he hears our conversation is unknown to me.
How did I become entangled in all of this? I just want to return home to my parents, know Soliana is safe, and enjoy my books.
Life doesn’t always give us what we want, I’m afraid. Look at poor Castien. He wants to be loved and respected for who he is, not what he is. He has suffered long because of this, but he perseveres, and his struggle will make him stronger for it. My dear, you have an inner strength and untold power at your fingertips. All you must do is let it out without it controlling you.
Why do you think I keep a tight rein on whatever these powers are? Shalendra inhaled, her anxiety increasing. As a child, I discovered the hard way that powers aren’t always good. I found an injured baby rabbit near my home and decided to heal it. I had no idea what I was doing, and in my simple childish thinking, I just needed to will away the injury. Instead of healing it, though, I willed away the legs.
I will never forget the horror of what I did, nor of my father when he put the tiny rabbit out of its misery. I never did tell him I was the one who hurt the poor thing.
Oh my, Ashia whispered in her mind, that would be a difficult lesson to learn as a child. But the most crucial point to the story, Shalendra, is that you were just that…a child. You had never been trained to handle your abilities. As with any tool, when given a powerful gift, it is up to that being to learn how to use it correctly. Magic is another tool that can be used for better or worse. That is the lesson we all must learn.
Shalendra exhaled. I understand this…I’m just afraid to let whatever is inside of me out again. I would never forgive myself if I hurt someone I care about or an innocent bystander.
Whether you realize it or not, you have an ally and possibly a teacher in the elf. Cyran, too, has untold healing magic. From how his power screams at me, he doesn’t use it often, either. Look past your differences because I believe the two of you can help each other out.
A subtle push pressed against Shalendra’s mind, but she kept her gaze on Cyran, who was still discussing their next move with Arawn. From the corner of her vision, Osiris’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at Castien, then moved to her.
She focused on Cyran’s emotions as they flashed across his handsome face and put herself in his shoes. He had taken time from his mission to find and then rescue her, and she was more than grateful for that. Instead of thanking him, she had not been very nice, which wasn’t like her.
Swallowing her pride or whatever had caused her to react to him like she had, she exhaled. “Excuse me.” She might as well have been talking in her head. The elf and god continued to speak over one another as their argument grew.
She cleared her throat and stepped between them, placing one hand on each male's chest. “Excuse me! Can the two of you please stop bickering like children long enough to listen to someone else? Maybe Osiris, Castien, or I have a more brilliant idea?”
The Celtic god’s gray eyes stared into hers, and he gave her a slight nod before backing away until he stood next to Osiris. She turned and met Cyran’s blue-gray gaze, which was even darker than it had been a few minutes earlier. Her body leaned forward as if she were falling into their mesmerizing depths. His chest muscles bunched against her palm, and she reluctantly pulled her hand away.
“Cyran, I would like to apologize for how I spoke to you in the prison. You rescued me, and instead of thanking you, I bit your head off. For that, I am sorry. Thank you for taking the time to find and free me from that wretched place.”
His brows rose in surprise, and the hint of a smile appeared as he bent at the waist in a quick bow. “You are welcome, my lady.” Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, “I wonder what that small courtesy cost you?”
Swallowing her retort, his smile widened as if he somehow knew she fought her response to him. She turned her head just enough to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. “That is something you will never find out… my lord. ” She stepped away. “Now, the two of you play nice while we all figure out our next move.”
“I will do you one better than that,” Arawn said. “I must return to Otherworld and check on my remaining souls. Unlike your mother’s and Osiris’s realms, mine still had several areas that had not been breached yet.” He glanced at the Egyptian god of death. “Let us hope they remain occupied, or our dilemma just increased three-fold. The last thing we need is the Fomorians freed.”
Osiris nodded. “True. Battling them would be like fighting my brother, Set, on steroids or the evil ones in Tartarus. Speaking of Greek Hell, have you heard anything from Hades?”
“No,” Arawn answered. “But he had four more layers to check, which will take some time. The size and depth of the Greek Underworld put ours to shame.”
“True. Even though Egypt has been around much longer than Greece, the Greeks had more people. The way of the world was kinder to my people and easier to live in.”
“Same for the Celts, but that is neither here nor there. We must figure out who is behind this before all the souls disappear.”
“I don’t understand.” Confused, Shalendra frowned at the two gods. “Why would anyone want to steal spirits?”
“The current school of thought is someone is using them to build an army.” Cyran shrugged. “But to what end, we have no idea. While an army of dead is feasible, the outcome will not be what whoever is in charge expects.”
“Why?” Castien's face scrunched in confusion. “Wouldn’t they be undefeatable? I mean…well, they’re dead. They can’t die again—or can they?”
“They can,” both gods answered.
“Depending on the level where they are contained determines their final outcome,” Osiris added. “The best way to explain is to use Hades’ underworld. My realm, Duat, is a bit different. We have twelve gates the dead must pass through, yet we also have a variety of places for the dead to live.”
He clasped his hands behind his back like a college professor. “The Greek Underworld has many realms on different levels. The Elysian Fields are where those with good souls and lived contented lives can stay, or they can choose to be reborn and live again in a new body. Tartarus also contains deeper places, many unnamed, and is where the evilest of beings are sent. It is in those dark and unbidden areas Hades places the worst beings—those who commit such unspeakable crimes they can never again walk in the light and be tortured for eternity.”
His gaze hardened as he met Arawn’s. “My belief is that whoever is draining the death realms is collecting all spirits—holding those who refuse his bidding or placing them in servitude—while the evil ones are promised free rein to do as they wish as his eternal soldiers.”
“That’s horrific,” Shalendra whispered. “And terrifying.” Wide-eyed, she turned to Cyran. “I realize you did not sign up for this and want to return to your own life, but will you please consider staying and helping us? If my parents and Ailuin and Lamruil believed you to be honorable and trusted you to find me, then I must also believe you to be honorable. Will you stay and help us or walk away when needed most?”
Her words were like a punch in Cyran’s gut. Had he become that shallow? He had always prided himself on doing what was right and caring for those in need. Staring into her aqua eyes, he felt as if he were floating on the water… No, the Mediterranean Sea on Midgard.
His thoughts returned to the first time he had seen the brilliant blue-green water. Falling deeper into Shalendra’s gaze, memories surfaced from the war on Midgard. He helped the Allies push back the German army from the island of Sicily and later liberated Italy.
After treating the thousands of Allied and even a few German soldiers, he took a single afternoon for himself. He swam in the warm waters before returning to Europe to rejoin Lamruil and Ailuin in Germany. That one afternoon had been bliss.
“Well?” Shalendra stared at him, her annoyance beating at him, yet like the warm waters of the Mediterranean, her eyes pulled him deeper into their teal depths.
He gave her a wry grin. “When put like that, I can do nothing else but help, now can I? I am an honorable elf and pride myself on doing what’s right, so yes, Shalendra, I will stay and aid you in any way I can. I will also keep my oath to your parents and guard you from harm until I get you back to Helheimr.”
She shook her head, her long black curls bouncing. “No. You will return me to my home in France. Until I know I can visit my mother’s realm without it killing me, I will remain on Midgard.”
He gave her a slight bow. “Your wish is my command, my lady.” Straightening, he caught her unamused expression and laughed. After dealing with his father, he hadn’t felt much like laughing. Her eyes narrowed, and he coughed back the remaining joy that threatened to break free. He was beginning to enjoy this adventure. Feeling more like himself than he had in a while, he turned to the two death gods.
“So, now what? Are we stuck here?”
Arawn frowned, which morphed into a scowl as the seconds passed. Finally, he shook his head and glared at Osiris. “Have you put a spell over this realm because I can’t apparate?”
“No. While this realm is ancient and mostly unknown, I know of no magic to keep anyone here. Have you tried to go to a different place? Try apparating to Freyja’s quarters in Asgard.”
Arawn’s worried expression morphed into fear. “And have her furious because I invaded her private space? I think not.”
“Go to Idunn’s garden,” Shalendra suggested. “Even if she is home, she would never do anything to hurt you. Anyone who needs her help is welcome.” A warm smile appeared, and her already beautiful face became mesmerizing. “I am quite positive you will be greeted with warmth and sweetness—including a delicious treat. She feeds everyone who shows up on her doorstep, so to speak.”
With doubt visible in Arawn's eyes, he nodded, closing his eyelids. A second later, he disappeared.
Cyran grunted. “Well, that worked. Doesn’t bode well for the Celtic Otherworld, though, does it?”
Osiris shook his head. “No, it does not.” He turned his black eyes on Cyran, who had to work to keep his expression neutral. The last thing he wanted to do was offend a god, much less a death god, even if he did seem nice.
“If Arawn can’t enter his realm,” Osiris continued. “He has either been locked out, or it's no longer there. In which case, it could mean complete devastation for the Nine Worlds, the god’s eventual death since he is tied to the realm, or something worse we haven’t thought of yet.”
“Wow,” Cyran shook his head. “Nothing warm and fuzzy about those. In fact, I’d say the options are downright terrifying. If a death god dies, the people remain and are, for lack of a better term, immortal—both good and evil. Not a world I would want to live in.”
“Nor I,” Shalendra and Castien muttered at the same time.
She frowned, her gaze staring off into the distance. He could almost hear her thoughts tumbling over one another in her mind. With a loud exhale, she met Osiris’s black gaze. “Do all death realms have places like this that aren’t normally accessible?”
He nodded. “Yes. As the worlds and people change, our realms adapt. If a culture stops believing one aspect of the religion, then the realms change to what's needed at that moment, shelving the unused space and creating new areas that fit the culture’s morphing beliefs. Christianity is one example. It began as a way for the Hebrews to become better Jews. Instead, a follower of Jesus disagreed with the other apostles and created his own religion.”
He watched the Egyptian god slightly rock back on his heels a few times as if he enjoyed relating history. “Over the centuries,” Osiris added, “the tumultuous religion has changed so much that the once peaceful heaven now includes a fire-and-brimstone hell for those who believe the ancient stories about a devil. It was only a bedtime story, like the bogeyman, so children would mind their parents. The church adopted the idea, using the Hebrew word “ ha-Sa?an ” for the same reason. The name means 'opposer' or 'adversary' and is Lucifer’s job title, nothing more. The Christian Church’s idea was for the people to do as the popes and bishops said, not ask questions or think for themselves, getting them to abandon their religions for this new one. What better way than fear?”
Shalendra’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. I had no idea. Growing up in France, I learned about modern Christianity but never paid much attention to its history. So, there’s no devil, Satan, or Lucifer—whatever name he goes by?”
“Oh, Lucifer is real. I feel for the guy. He has to spend eternity living under a guise and getting accused of vile things when his only job is to guard Earth and keep the humans lawful and moral. His job was nearly impossible, but without God’s presence to remind humans about the good in life, more and more evil crept in until nothing could hold it back. By then, the Christian faith was everywhere, and the Church decided it needed more leverage to get people on board with their teachings, so they taught that God punished his favorite angel by relegating him to what the humans called hell and named him Satan.”
“And demons?” Castien asked. “Are they real or fictitious? I mean, I know we were told there was one impersonating the dwarf king, but if they aren’t real, then what replaced King Windsword?”
Cyran met the dwarf’s green gaze. “Oh, demons are very real and come in all forms, as with every other race of creatures. I have met several demons I would trust to guard my back, while there are others I would sooner kill than be near. No race or species is all good or all bad.”
“And to think I thought you weren’t all that smart,” a familiar voice said.
Cyran turned to Arawn, who returned with a friend. Ignoring the god, he smiled at the beautiful goddess standing beside him. He tilted his head. “Freyja, it is good to see you again.”
The goddess returned his smile and stepped closer, cupping his cheek with her hand. “I wondered where the twins had sent you. I do not think they understood just how difficult your task would become or that I would find you in a death realm, no less.” Her face lit up when she saw Shalendra. Opening her arms, the matching amethysts in her necklace and the golden filigreed amulet across her forehead glittered as if they, too, were happy to see the young elf.
Shalendra walked into the goddess’s embrace and buried her face in Freyja’s shoulder. “I am so glad you’re here.”
After a few pats on her back, the goddess leaned back. Tucking a curled finger under the young girl’s chin, she raised Shalendra’s face. “I did not expect to find you here either, my dear. Your parents are quite worried about you.”
A tear slid down Shalendra’s cheek. It was the first deep emotion Cyran had seen from her, and he couldn’t help but wonder about it. “I failed. Not only did I not find Uncle Olivier and Aunt Jessica, but I managed to get myself arrested and thrown in the dwarf prison.” She shrugged. “I’m so sorry.”
Freyja’s pretty face scowled. “Never apologize for trying to do something. The key is that you tried, Shalendra. I can be nothing but proud of you for that. You have lived in a world that limits your abilities and growth. Your father has much to answer for. Since you were a baby, I’ve sensed a raw power inside of you—one you should already be quite adept at wielding by now. From what I saw in my God’s Glass, you will solve the puzzle behind the disappearance of Olivier and Jessica.”
She turned her amethyst-colored eyes to Cyran, “Along with the help of an equally strong-willed and closed-off elf, I might add. The two of you will discover their secret and how to bring them home.”
“You have seen this?” Cyran heard the veiled tone behind the goddess’s words and wondered what she meant.
“Yes, Cyran, I saw that and so much more. You both need to return to Svartálfheimr. Many good people are dying. Your healing magic and a few gifts my goddaughter possesses are needed there and in many more realms. Something has been set free, much like the plague that devastated Midgard in ancient times. Whole villages and worlds are dying, and we cannot find a reason behind the spreading disease or its cure. Idunn is beside herself because she hasn’t been able to help. You know how sensitive she is.”
Freyja took Shalendra’s hand in hers and placed it in Cyran’s, closing his long fingers around Shalendra’s. “You must work together, or this will fail. If you fail, the Nine Worlds will as well.”
“My lady, what am I to do? I would help if I’m allowed.” Castien stood off to one side of their small group, tall and proud.
Freyja smiled. “You remind me of another Bloodminer I once knew. His name was Voron, if my memory serves.”
“Voron is my grandfather. He retired when I was old enough to begin mining. He and my grandmother are on a long-promised vacation. The minute he walked through the door on his last day of work, Grandmama greeted him with their packed bags, knowing he would try to talk her out of going anywhere.” His gaze moved between Freyja and Cyran. “I never realized how many people my grandfather knew.”
“Yes, be that as it may, it’s good to hear he is living well and experiencing life. I’ve never understood miners. I could never stay down in dank, dark caves and tunnels. I need the sun.” She narrowed her gaze, a smile slowly appearing. “You will go with Cyran and Shalendra. If my instincts are correct—and they are—your specific talents and a certain stone will be needed before the end of all this chaos.”
Castien frowned. “How do you?—”
Freyja shook her head. “If she wants you to know, it is her story to tell. Now, let’s see about getting the three of you to where a few of my friends are waiting. I believe you will all get along quite well.”
Her amethyst gaze speared Cyran’s. “You will need one another before this is all said and done. You will recognize where you are once you’ve arrived. Study everything around you and leave nothing to chance. React with speed, or you will not be able to fix what’s happening in Svartálfheimr or Alfheimr. Every day that passes, the twins' difficulty increases.”
Cyran scowled and stepped toward the goddess, his worry beating at Shalendra. She placed her more petite body between theirs. “If they are in trouble, Freyja, I need to be with them, not running off on some wild goose chase,” Cyran argued. “They are as close to me as brothers, and if something happened to either of them, I would never forgive myself.”
Freyja smiled at her goddaughter. “Protective as usual. He means what he says, but finding fault with someone driven by love was never in my wheelhouse.”
Her gaze rose to Cyran’s. “From the moment you arrive, you must be on your toes and wary of everyone and everything. Like me, whoever is behind this has access to a God’s Glass or something else that allows them to skip through time. During the war on Midgard, my Night Witches discovered this anomaly, so be very careful.”
She approached Cyran, her purple gaze cutting into him like a cold blade. “I love Shalendra as if she were my daughter, and I entrust her to your care, Elf Lord. Do not disappoint me.”
Cyran gave her a slight tilt of his head. “While I am not an elf lord, I won’t, my lady. I will return your goddaughter in the same condition she is now.”
Freyja’s gaze warmed. “You have no idea about your lineage, do you, Cyran?”
Before he could ask her what she meant, Freyja turned and pulled Shalendra into a tight hug, kissing her on each cheek. “Stay strong and listen to your instincts. They have never led you astray. You may discover that your strength lies in the amazing gifts you have held at bay for so long. Open yourself up and live, my dear.”
The goddess stepped back. Closing her eyes, she raised her arms wide as a silvery light appeared around her body and seemed to be coming from the matching amethyst gemstones she wore. As the brilliance increased, she opened her eyes and met Cyran’s. “Go and become who you were meant to be.” Her hands crashed together in front of her, and they were plunged into darkness.