Dead Embers (30 page)

Tyra focused so intently on the shattered pieces that I felt
as if I'd faded into the background. I blinked as something shone at the edge of
my vision. A bright ball of heat emanated from the pile of crystal shards, and
an ethereal steam began to twist and rise from the shiny pile. I watched in
awed silence. The shards glistened and gradually lost their shape, melting into
each other.

The molten crystal rose slowly into the air in an amorphous
blob, still continuing to melt and mix. Waves of heat blasted me as the sphere
swirled and twirled, its yellow and red and purple streaks all blending into
each other, though never losing their inherent colors.

Soon the ball glowed red, and I almost gasped in amazement
when Tyra extended her hand beneath the spinning globe, the sleeves of her
elegant ruby gown hanging almost to the ground. She turned her palm up, and the
heated, malleable mass fell onto her soft skin. And though I expected her skin
to sizzle, I heard nothing.

The golden sheen on the skin of her palm and hands reminded
me that she was a dragon, the mother of the Nidhogg, king of the dragons. She
worked the molten crystal, fingers moving, sculpting, heat still emanating from
her hands in visible, smoky waves. Until soon her dexterous fingers shaped the
heated glass into a goblet. Not to the same quality as the original, superbly
crafted goblet. Just a crude receptacle that would hold a liquid within its
bowl safely.

Again, the dragon matriarch seemed to be in tune with my
thoughts. "The goblet is merely the vessel," she said. "It is
the crystal and the blood of the dwarf king which has the power to drain the
poison from someone afflicted with the goddess Skadi's viper poison. Thus we
need only to fashion a drinking bowl, though I do believe the goblet was once a
thing of beauty."

I nodded, afraid to speak, my throat tight. I really, really
wanted to cry. Must have been relief or a sudden drop in adrenalin. Or
something. Whatever it was, I wanted to hug Tyra and bawl my eyes out.

Way to be a big baby, Bryn.

"You have done well, Valkyrie," Tyra said. She
handed the goblet back to me. It felt strange, all those smoother edges
compared to its previous crystalline sharpness.

Lady Tyra's approval did nothing to make me feel better,
though. The sight of Mika's lifeless body slumped on the stones filled me with
a deep sadness. I felt my earlier anger begin to fade.

"Brynhildr, the Ulfr made her choice. No doubt, it was
the wrong choice and one that resulted in her end. But there is nothing you
should feel responsible for."

"I trusted her. Even when I was told not to trust
anyone." My voice and heart were bitter and hard.

"Why did you place your trust in her?" Tyra asked,
the question gentle, without judgment or admonition.

"Because she was my friend. And she seemed to care
about what happened to me. I guess I was pretty well fooled now, wasn't
I?"

"There is nothing wrong with trusting someone. That she
betrayed you is unfortunate, but it is the way things often happen. One must
learn from one's mistakes. Life seems to love throwing those lessons at us when
we least expect it."

I nodded. She spoke the truth, but I drew little comfort
from her words as the sun bled its cheery brightness upon my gloom. I much
preferred the shadowed night.

"Come, we need to get you back to Asgard."

I squinted at Tyra, a bit unsure now that she'd assumed
control. But I did need some kind of guidance. Mika's betrayal proved a painful
reminder that my judgment of people sucked. Now I felt lost, unable to make a
solid decision without doubting myself.

Good thing I have Lady Tyra.

Or was it time to remember Thor's warning? Time to question
if Steinn's mother could really be trusted?

I frowned as I realized she'd arrived just when I needed her
most. "How did you know where I was? How did you get here so fast?"

"The eye of the dragon," Tyra answered
enigmatically.

I reached into my pocket and grabbed the sphere, holding it
up to the sunlight. The flame still flickered inside it, less vigorously than
before, though. I scowled at the ball, urging my eyes to see something that
would explain how the ball had summoned Steinn's mother to me.

Tyra continued, "The eye of the dragon helped me to see
your need of my assistance." She smiled. "You touched the eye and it
sensed your unhappiness, your grief. When I recognized those emotions, I knew
you needed my help."

I offered her a hesitant nod, still feeling that the whole
thing was a little too convenient. "You gave me the eye so you could keep
an eye on me?" Somewhere inside me the urge to grin swelled, as a tiny
part of me saw how funny this was.

Tyra gave me another one of her regal nods. "And I am
most glad that you accepted it. Had you declined my gift, you would still be
upset and would still fear that all was lost."

"Thank you so much." I couldn't think of anything
more appropriate to say. I knew I should demonstrate my appreciation in a
better way but was ultimately at a loss as to how.

"Do not worry, child. You are on your way to saving
both your friend and my granddaughter. Now we must be going." Tyra held my
arm, urging me toward the Bifrost.

I slipped out of her grip and bent to grab Mika and shimmy
her over my shoulder again, ignoring Tyra's admonishing glare. She definitely
didn't want me to bring Mika along. Well, tough. I was taking her home no
matter what the dragon lady thought.

With Mika finally settled on my shoulder, I shuddered as the
warmth began to leave her corpse. I followed Tyra, juggling the goblet and
Mika. I didn't want to part with either of those burdens just then.

When we reached the Bridge, Tyra turned to face me. She
crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, and I knew she meant to insist I leave
Mika behind. Maybe it was the grim determination in my eyes that made her
pause, that made her give me an assessing glance. My earlier fear of her was
gone now, replaced by a steely resolve. With an almost imperceptible nod, the
dragon queen stepped on the Bifrost and disappeared. I guess she figured I
wouldn't leave Mika behind no matter what she said.

She was right.

This time I barely registered any discomfort on the Bifrost.
We stepped off the bridge into the transfer room, where the fire flared a
bright warm welcome. I righted myself, legs a bit wobbly now, stomach still a
bit whirly, but concentrating on my burdens and not much else.

"Where is Heimdall?" Tyra looked around, frowning,
as if expecting someone to be there.

"Who?" I barely paid attention to her as I
adjusted Mika's weight on my shoulder.

"Heimdall, the guard of the Bifrost?" Worry and
concern flared in her eyes. "It is not normal for him to leave his post
unattended."

"I'm sorry, Lady Tyra. I've never met anyone with that
name in Asgard. And nobody has mentioned him to me either."

Tyra blanched, then clicked her tongue. "In all the
time you have been here, nobody thought to mention the fact that the guard of
the Bifrost is absent?" Her rant ended in a little high-pitched lilt, and
I curbed the urge to smile. Boy, was she a tad worked up.

"Do you want me to ask somebody . . . ?"

"Never mind, child. You may want to get rid of that
Ulfr, though." Tyra wrinkled her nose, as if she too had suddenly
developed a special Ulfr odor detector.

I stiffened, a tiny bit offended at the implied insult, but
caring a lot less now than I would have yesterday, or any day before Mika had
betrayed me.

We left the transfer room and its comforting warmth and
headed down the warren of welcoming torch-lit passages to Odin's hall. Lady
Tyra followed me without a word. Inside the hall, silence reigned, but I knew
it wouldn't be long before Odin arrived. He always seemed to know when I needed
to talk to him, or just when I needed him.

Godly powers, no doubt.

I let Mika slide to the white marble tiles and straightened,
enjoying the relief from her dead weight. My right hand, curled around the
stocky base of the crude goblet, had almost fallen asleep. I pried my fingers
from the goblet and rubbed them against my hip to get the blood moving again.

Barely seconds later, a figure shimmered at the dais, then
another in the second throne. Both Odin and Frigga appeared, worry lining their
foreheads. They sent curious glances and quick smiles in Lady Tyra's direction
but soon the spotlight returned to me.

"Brynhildr." Odin's voice boomed across the empty
hall.

"My lord," I said, bowing my head. "My
lady."

"Come, child, tell us—have you succeeded?" Odin
seemed a tad impatient.

I hesitated and swallowed hard before answering, "Yes.
Sort of." I frowned, unsure of how my news would be received, suddenly
terrified of their wrath.

"What is it, child?" asked Frigga, her voice much
calmer and less antagonistic than the All-Father's booming tone. Her dark, warm
eyes encouraged me to talk, as did her gentle smile. "Has Mika been
injured?" I nodded, but before I could clarify the mortality of her
injuries, Frigga asked, "Did you get the goblet?"

"The goblet was shattered." I winced, expecting a
furious reaction. One that I did receive.

"What?" bellowed Odin. "How did such a thing
happen?"

"Mika . . ." I turned to glance at her body.
"She attacked me, grabbed the goblet from my hands. And when I tried to
take it back, she threw it against a wall. It shattered into so many pieces. .
. . It's fine now, I think." I held the ugly goblet up for both gods to
inspect.

Odin's one grey eye swirled with stormy clouds. "I
thought you said it shattered?" High above us, the wooden eaves shuddered
at his question.

"Yes, and Lady Tyra put it back together. Will it still
work?" I asked meekly, terrified I'd be punished, probably struck by
lightning on the spot, reduced to a pile of Bryn-ashes in the blink of an eye.

"We can only try and hope that it does work."
Frigga rose, sending Lady Tyra a grateful smile. The goddess held out her hand.
A cloudy mist swirled above her palm, shimmering as if someone had thrown
silver dust onto a puff of cotton wool. A pestle and mortar solidified in her
hand as she drew closer to me, her pale dress shimmering with silver thread as
she moved. "Take this." I stared at the pestle and mortar, confused.
A heavy silence hung over the hall. "The Glasir has gifted you with that
which you need, my child. Use the leaf, Brynhildr."

For a minute I was lost, and then it slowly sunk in.

Did I really have to sacrifice my leaf from the Glasir
tree? This sucked.

I placed the goblet and the pestle and mortar on the floor
before me, and bent my head to stare at the golden Glasir ring around my middle
finger.

I'd grown so used to seeing it there, never removing it. I
had to admit it had never given me the kind of comfort that my amber pendant
had once given me, but it had sustained me in its own way.

My fingers traced the ridges of the shimmering golden leaf,
then I pulled it off my hand, my heart lurching at the thought of pounding my
precious leaf into dust.

I had no choice.

To save Aidan and Siri, I'd do just about anything. Dropping
the leaf into the mortar, I began to pound it; each blow reverberated through
the hall, and I felt the vibrations in my bones. Just minutes later, the bowl
contained a little pile of fine gold dust.

Frigga bent over the mortar and nodded. "That will
do." She rose to her feet and summoned a Huldra with the flick of her
fingers. Heaven knew where they hid, only to appear as soon as Odin or Frigga
wanted them.

The goddess sent the Huldra scurrying off to fetch Mead. It
didn't take long before the red-tailed girl returned, carrying a tray that bore
a small goblet of Mead, which Frigga handed to me. "Pour the powder into
the goblet, then mix in the Mead. If the Mead changes to the color of blood,
then the antidote will still work. Any other color means the power of the
goblet is destroyed."

I swallowed, just staring at her until at last she beckoned
for me to continue. It was now or never. There wasn't a prayer in the world
that could change the way things were if I'd destroyed the goblet.

My hands shook as I poured in the golden dust. The silken
sand swirled so smoothly into the rough-hewn base of the goblet. Next, I dribbled
the Mead into the goblet, twisting the cup around and around in my hand to help
the powder dissolve easily into the whirlpool of liquid gold.

My breath grew stale within my chest. I stood very still as
I watched the golden liquid, watched it so hard I refused to blink.

Nothing.

It didn't change. The Mead just sat there in the lumpy
goblet looking all gold and beautiful and disappointing. Tears burned at my
eyelids and pooled in my throat. I feared that even an attempt to take a breath
would bring me to my knees.

At long last, I blinked and lifted my gaze toward Odin and
Frigga, my face crumpling and hot and aching. But even as I did so, Lady Tyra's
soft gasp caught my ear, and my eyes shot back to the goblet. Within the golden
swirling liquid, a thin line of red spun around and around, growing larger and
thicker as the dust continued to mix into the Mead.

A choked sob erupted from my throat, and the dammed tears
dissipated in the wake of such relief. With each passing second, the liquid
bloomed redder and darker, until no sign remained of the Mead. Now the cup just
held a thick red liquid that bore an eerily similar sheen to fresh warm blood.

Of all the amazing colors to choose, why, in heaven's
name, did it have to be blood red?

In my mind's eye a vision shifted into startling clarity:
Aidan's blood staining my palms. The thought of the unconscious duo of Siri and
Aidan brought me back to a question I'd pondered often, before the shattering
of the goblet. A question that I hadn't dared to voice yet. Who would get to
use the elixir first? Would Lady Tyra expect me to give it to Siri first, or
would she want me to try it on Aidan to see if it worked? Had I been in Tyra's
shoes, I would've done just that—ensured the elixir worked before letting my
child drink it, even if it meant using someone else as a guinea pig.