Destined (Desolation #3) (24 page)

“I have long desired the chance to try my hand against one of Odin’s notorious Gardians,” he said. His voice had a silver, sparkling tone to it, all sharp edges and brilliance. I ignored its lure and dove forward, thrusting my sword into the air where, until that moment, his chest had been. I spun away, seeking him, and found him standing behind me, leaning on the hilt of his sword as if it were a walking stick.

“Not as impressive as I’d hoped.” He whirled, a flash of silver, and I felt a stripe of blood bloom across the skin on my shoulder. “And you’re Michael, are you not? Odin’s own general? The greatest of them all?”

I stood still, trying to make sense of him, to gauge his next move, to determine how I could best him.

“Oh, but then again.” He removed a white cloth from his pocket and ran it along the length of his blade. He held up the cloth and wrinkled his nose at the bloody mess of it. Between one blink and the next the cloth was gone. “I forgot. Your darling love is the greatest of you all. And where is she?”

He made a show of looking all around and while he faced away from me, I struck.

I claimed my Halo and flew through the air, bringing my blade downward to his neck. It was a cowardly move, but I had no time for word games. I would not miss this time, I would not fail. I could see it in his eyes when he spun back around.

When he lay on the ground, my knee on his chest, his blood on my sword, he laughed.

“You think this is all there is, Gardian? You think if you win here, you can live happily ever after with your beloved half-breed?” He coughed and blood flecked his lips, coloring them an unnatural red against his pale, icy skin. “Look around you. The battle has changed, has it not?” He waited, but I resisted the urge to obey him.

“Hurry up and die, already,” I said through gritted teeth. I did not enjoy death, but I wished for her to come claim this creature before I was forced to kill him twice.

“This has—” he coughed again and my heart lurched. What was I doing?
End him!
Yet a part of me held a sick fascination with his words. I felt like I had to know his message—needed to know. “Only been a ruse, Gardian. Only a game.” He laughed then, which drew his coughing to such a state that the two became one until he finally fell silent.

I stayed with him longer than I had to, fearing what he said might be true. First I listened—heard the familiar clang of steel against steel. Heard the sound of flesh hitting the hard-packed earth. Heard the cries of anguish and courage that rang out on all sides.

Slowly I stood and turned. 

All around me, humans lay. Warriors of The Hallowed, bleeding into the barren land.

The Svarts and Giants had been drawn away by my wrath. Fahria and her sisters, and the few humans that remained, still contended with the genii, and the fight was not fair. The humans were exhausted, almost to the point of being utterly useless. The Valkyrie fought with valiant, fierce determination. They fought as if they had only begun—but I knew the truth. They would pay the price—just not now. Not yet.

For now they were all that saved this place, Midgard, from the genii’s crush.

I signaled to my Lieutenants to spare who they could and join with the Valkyrie against the small-but-lethal genii. 

I made my way toward Fahria, dismembering three genii who fell upon me. 

“What is happening?” I shouted at Fahria between grunts of exertion. 

She thrust forward, knocking the midsection of a genii backward, causing it to fall to the ground in a useless pile. With the momentum of her arms she moved them sideways, whipping her leg around to knock the head off another stone creature on her right. “The battle has changed,” she said.

“I can see that!” Frustration oozed out of every pore. I punched and kicked at the genii with an unnatural ruthlessness. 

“Loki has been exiled from Helheimer,” Fahria shouted as she pressed her back to mine. I reached backward, grabbing the knife she kept in her boot, and brought it up to stick it into the chin of a genii who had grabbed Fahria’s hair and was about to take a bite out of her neck. 

“Hel used this war to distract him, to leave Helheimer unguarded—and now Loki has been cast out.”

I used the dagger to hold the genii’s head in place while I thrust my knee against its midsection, dismembering it. My gut twisted, but I pushed down the revulsion that threatened to rise at thoughts of how Loki would seek vengeance. 

Fahria and I worked seamlessly together, like a creature with four limbs, as we thrust and kicked at the unceasing genii. I don’t know how many we killed. How many fell under my hand or to hers. As the creatures fell, they disintegrated into dirt and blew away on the breeze like so much dust.

All I knew was, as the sun sank beyond the horizon, my limbs were slowing. The cool desert air settled in around me, luring me to rest. Fahria separated from me and I’d only just turned, only begun the walk back to the rocks where The Hallowed were treating their wounded, when I heard it.

A cry of grief and pain—a man’s. I had never before heard that voice cry out in such sorrow and so I walked faster. Then broke into a run.

“Longinus!” Fahria cried. I saw her huddled form, saw she held Longinus in her arms. And even from a distance, I could see the blood that colored the ground where he lay.

I fell to my knees by her side, horror making my stomach sour.

“He will be revived.” I spoke with haste, not realizing that it wasn’t Longinus’ wounds that were deadly, but the man’s behind him.

Fahria helped Longinus sit up, the wound on his neck already healing. But Longinus took no care for his own body, which should have been mortal—he spun as soon as he was able, to reveal Cornelius on the hard dirt beside him. 

“Father,” Longinus cried. But I could tell, and surely Longinus could see as well, that the man was already gone. “He shouldn’t have been on the field. He was supposed to remain on the rocks, tend the wounded.” Longinus crossed the father’s arms on his chest, his calloused hands trembling. “I tried to protect him, but the Giant’s thrust was too great, his reach beyond my ability to deflect.”

“You did what you could.” Fahria hesitated only a moment before placing her hand on Longinus’ arm. He looked away from Cornelius and locked eyes with Fahria.

“I am tired of this death. I am tired of losing the ones I love.”

“I know,” Fahria said.

I focused my attention on the ridge where Loki stood with Ophelia. Before I could move, Fahria touched the back of her hand to my arm. 

“Here.” Her fingers held a small golden vial. I looked at it, then at her. She nodded.

I took the vial, popped the cork with my thumb and drank the teaspoonful of liquid left. Ambrosia. It would not heal all my wounds, but it was enough.

Without a word to Longinus or Fahria, I grasped my sword and flew toward Loki.

In a flash of light, a scream already tearing through my throat, I landed on the mesa and backhanded Ophelia. She fell to the rocky surface a few feet behind me. I circled my prey like a lion hunts the zebra.

“Michael, my old friend.” Loki, dressed in black slacks and a white silk shirt that fluttered in the breeze stirred up by my wings, spread his arms in something like a warm greeting. 

“We haven’t been friends since before civilization began on this planet.”

“Ah, but I still care about you. I still want the best for you.” His words were sweet but I saw the way his chin dipped and his eyes darkened with his bitter poison.

“My friends are tired. It is time to end this.”

“By all means.” Loki stopped clocking me, and stood still as I crossed behind him. “But I won’t be as easy to defeat as you once found me.”

I stepped to his front. He smiled like the snake he was—slow and deceptive. 

“Hey!” Ophelia screeched. “What about—” 

Loki raised his hand, a flick of his wrist and Ophelia was thrown backward again, this time down to the desert floor far below us. 

For a moment we considered each other. My former friend, my one time master. I understood him better than ever before, his evil still tainted my memories. I had no idea how much of him still remained inside my heart, inside my mind, but I intended to exorcise him—and any lingering connection to him—thoroughly and without prejudice.

Loki would be defeated and I would banish him from this world.

I drew my blade from its sheath, its voice ringing, revealing my intentions in the way it sliced through the air, thirsting for blood. My focus narrowed to Loki’s eyes, gauging the moment when he would Become, and I would be Odin’s fierce hand against the dark.

Loki burst forth with black lightning, his wings beating a maelstrom around me, but I held my ground, swung my blade and pressed forward.

In his hands appeared two dark blades, each double-edged, their surface gleaming as if already drenched in blood. With a roar I raised my sword and fell upon him, our weapons clanging, ringing, our voices echoing around us. Rocks skittered beneath my feet, wind beat around me, until I drew my focus inward, lasered it on the face of the man before me. The face of my enemy.

I watched him, watched his eyes, the curl of his lip, the sweat that dripped on his brow. I watched him as we danced, our blades beating to the rhythm of our steps, our breath. He lashed out with his wings, but I blocked him, matched him blow for blow. 

Odin
, I prayed.
Grant me strength.
Then there was no more time for thought, there was only action, only now. I allowed my mind to conjure an image of Desi, the golden light of Asgard flickering on her face while she smiled, the sunlight bringing out the freckles on her nose.
For you.

And I was no longer Michael, no longer a Gardian, no longer a soldier. I was my blade.
I am the blade.

I lie curled up like a baby on the cold granite floor, trying really hard not to shiver overly much because my lady doesn’t like it. My butt and back sting from where she’d kicked me with her stilettos when my shivering annoyed her. I am so cold I think maybe I will freeze to death—and the idea seems like a great one. I’d be glad for death right now.

I don’t remember feeling this way before. Never until I’d been with my lady at the battlefront and I’d seen that girl and heard that name . . .
James
.

Until then, I think I was happy. I think I enjoyed being my lady’s pet. 

But not now.

Now all I can think of is that face—the pale skin and black hair. The wild eyes that seemed to see right through me, that seemed to see
me
. I can’t remember a time when anyone had even taken notice of me. And why would they? I’m just a dog. My lady said so.

But that name.
James
.

James
.

I like the sound of it. Like how it feels in my mouth when I whisper it quietly to myself. James.

With the name and with the face of the girl, other images flash before my eyes. Kissing the dark haired girl. Feeling . . . something. Regret? Hope? I’m not even sure what those words mean, what those feelings are, but they rise up inside me like leaves floating on a river.

And there are other faces, other feelings.

A pair of crystal blue eyes, brimming with tears. Those eyes feel like a stab to my heart. The first time I saw them in my mind, I gasped—my lady lashed out and dug the heel of her shoe into my calf. I learned to control my reactions after that. To let the tears fall without notice.

The eyes, those shining diamond blue eyes, make me feel strong. Powerful. They fill me with a need to do something—what, I can’t say. To be something for the owner of those eyes. To protect her.

Her
.

A girl with messy blonde hair, a small face, with lips that I . . .

Another gasp, another reprimand immediately followed by a stabbing pain in my back . . . 

. . . like to kiss.

I kissed this girl. This blue-eyed, blonde-haired girl.

I loved her.

I love her still.

Her name haunts me, whispers at me from the corners of my memory but I can’t quite grasp it. All I can remember is the name on her lips.