Perfekt Control (The Ære Saga Book 2) (19 page)

“
Ja
,” she agreed. “The Norns only hand
out what we can take, but I’ll be honest—there are times when the
sheer weight of it all feels unbearable. Sometimes I worry Mia
won’t be able to handle it. What’s everyday for us is overwhelming
to her. I can see that.”

I picked up an errant vial from the desk and
placed it in Elsa’s kit. “I understand what you’re saying, but
Mia’s a fighter. Every time we give her a new piece of the puzzle,
she retreats to internalize it, then comes back more resolved than
ever. She’s going to be a force to be reckoned with by the time she
fully commits to this. And then whoever’s not on our side better
watch out.”

Elsa smiled, and closed her kit. “I hope
you’re right, Brynn. We sure could use her energy on our team.”

“Oh, come on.” I cuffed Elsa on the shoulder.
“With guardians like us to keep her on the straight and narrow,
she’ll be signing on to full-time Asgardian duty in no time.”

“But how?” Elsa walked to the door. She
paused with her hand on the knob. “Odin’s never turned a human
before. And even if we use anti-aging enchantments, she’s limited
by her mortal form.”

“I honestly don’t know, but I wouldn’t count
her out.” I shook my head. “I think we’re both going to be
surprised by what Mia’s able to do with her gifts—mortal, or
otherwise.”

Elsa met my eyes with a wide smile and threw
her arms around me. “Be careful out there, Brynn. You’ve got
beautiful things to accomplish with that existence of yours.”

I hugged her back, testing my weight on my
right leg and exhaling at the absence of pain.
Well done,
Elsa.

“Keep everyone in check here while I’m gone,”
I said. “Once this whole Freya debacle is over, let’s make getting
Mia up to speed our top priority. We’re going to need every hand on
deck to make sure nothing gets through our defenses again.”

Elsa nodded. “Agreed. Now get out of here. I
believe a certain hot god has a fresh plate of hotcakes with your
name on them.”

I snorted as I opened the door. “Henrik’s
Hotcakes? Is that what we’re calling the Swedish pancakes now?”

Elsa giggled. “I thinking Hottie’s Hotcakes,
or possibly
Perfekt
Pancakes, but yours is good too.”

I wrapped my arm around Elsa’s shoulders and
steered her toward the stairs. “You’re trouble, Fredriksen.”

She looked at me with a laugh. “I am Tyr’s
sister. What else would you expect?”

“
ACCORDING TO FORSE, THE
dragon guy’s
house should be three hundred meters east of the drop site. He’s
extremely cautious—he refused to give up any intel unless it was
face-to-face. And whatever you do, don’t call him Berling. He
prefers Berry.” Henrik held out his forearm as the Bifrost
retracted. I shook my head, placing my elbows on my thighs and
bending over until the heaving passed.

“You’re going to have to touch me
eventually,” Henrik pointed out. “Things can’t be weird with us
forever.”

I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand
as I stood up. As much as I hoped he was right, I doubted things
could ever be normal between us. Henrik grossly underestimated the
deeply scarred girl psyche.

“I touched you in Muspelheim,” I said, for
the sake of argument.

“If you mean you let me carry you out of the
fire giant graveyard because you couldn’t walk, that doesn’t
count.”

“Whatever. Which way to Berry?”

Henrik pushed the thin silver frames up the
bridge of his nose and jutted his chin. “Should be just over that
hill.”

“You know you don’t have to wear your fake
glasses. It’s just us.”

“Maybe,” Henrik said. “But I’ve never met the
dragon guy, and I want him to think I’m smart.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just open your mouth and
start talking. He’ll figure it out pretty quick.”

“Luck favors the prepared,
sötnos
. Now
are you steady enough to walk or do you still feel unwell?”

I glared at Henrik as I stomped across the
snow-dusted field. “I’m fine,
thank you very much
.”

The low chuckle from behind let me know that
Henrik followed.

We reached the hill without talking, and
paused just below the top to assess the environment. Pink clouds,
pastel songbirds, and a light layer of white covered the tapestry
of trees.

I snuck a glance at Henrik. He stood at the
crest of the hill, one leg in front of the other in a strong
stance. One hand rested on the hilt of his sheathed broadsword,
while the other shielded his eyes from the twin suns overhead. The
light bounced off the waves of his hair, creating a halo effect. He
looked every bit the conquering, avenging deity he was.

And he made my black box jump up and down in
a dance that showed
zero
respect to my flimsily erected
boundaries.

“I assume Berry’s place is somewhere in the
trees?” I bounced on my toes to distract myself. A dense, deciduous
forest rested at the base of the slope, its thick-trunked trees
barren beneath the frost. A heavy fog settled on this side of the
valley, filtering the early morning light. It was beautiful, the
way the fog bathed the tree branches in a dim glow. It was the kind
of place I’d always imagined Henrik grabbing me by the arms and
pushing me up against the—

THWACK!

My wholly inappropriate train of thought came
to a screeching halt as a large rock pelted me in the side.

“Look out!” I yelled.

Henrik and I dove for the ground, unsheathing
our weapons as we moved. We leapt to our feet, blades out, and came
face-to-face with an image so off-putting, I had to force myself
not to scream like a Midgardian schoolgirl. A mottled face with
beady eyes and pointed teeth sat atop a hunched body so gnarled
with age or injury, just looking at it made my bones actually hurt.
The creature drew back his fist to launch another rock, and Henrik
jumped to action. He ran to the dwarf’s side and wrenched the rock
out of his hand.

“Stand down,” Henrik commanded. The dwarf
clawed at Henrik’s arm, its yellowing nails leaving thick rake
marks across Henrik’s perfect skin. My partner picked the dwarf up
by the scruff of the neck.

“Trespassers,” the dwarf called in a shrill
voice. The sound made me cringe.

“We’re here by invitation of your king.”
Henrik lifted the dwarf higher, and the creature swung his legs in
protest. “Should we tell him you’re detaining an ally? I hear a
century in the mines is the going rate for treason nowadays.”

The dwarf fell still. His shoulders slumped
in defeat, and he released his hold on Henrik’s arm. “Proceed,” he
said. “But one misstep and…” The dwarf drew a slicing motion across
his throat.

“Mmm-hmm.” Henrik set the dwarf on the ground
and it scampered off.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Apparently King Hreidmar didn’t alert the
welcome wagon of our arrival.” Henrik put his hand on the hilt of
his sword and led the way into the woods. “It’s probably better
that way. Even with a hall pass, we’re not exactly anyone’s
favorites around here. Asgardians have a reputation for using the
dwarves to get what we want.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I muttered as we
walked through the trees. Our feet left light prints on the freshly
fallen snow. “They’ve made practically every treasure we
have—Mjölnir, Megingjörd, Járngreipr… hold up. Do they make things
for anyone
other
than Thor?”

“Plenty,” Henrik confirmed. “And they’ll
continue to—we pay them pretty well for their work. But helping us
right now, well, they’re just doing it because they like Freya.
They always have.”

The wicked dwarves had a soft spot for love.
Who knew?

“Is this it?” I pointed at the tiny cottage
hidden behind a thick grove of tree trunks. Its grey stone façade
fit the cool atmosphere of the forest, and a trail of smoke emitted
from its chimney.

“Should be.” Henrik pulled a folded piece of
paper from his pocket and read his tidy scrawl. “Forse says knock
nine times and ask for Berry.” He stuffed the paper back in his
pocket and walked up to the door. He turned to me and waggled his
eyebrows. “Secret code.”

I giggled in spite of myself.

“Care to do the honors?” Henrik offered.

I squared my shoulders and knocked on the
thick wooden planks. “Berry? Are you there?” I kept my voice quiet.
By all accounts, Berry’s was the only residence nearby, but
apparently dwarves could sneak up on you.

“Who is it?” A hard voice came from the other
side of the door.

“We’re friends of Tyr and Forse. They sent us
to ask you about the dragons?” We waited for what felt like an
hour, but eventually the door cracked open. A tiny creature peeked
around the handle, its face every bit as mottled as the one that
had attacked Henrik. We appraised each other for a long beat before
the door opened all the way and Berry stepped aside.

“Come in,” he growled.

I nodded in gratitude as I stepped inside the
little cottage, Henrik close behind. It was impeccably tidy, with a
small kitchen off the entrance, a sitting area of sorts straight
ahead, and what I assumed was a bedroom behind the door to my
left.

Berry hurried to close the door behind us.
“Tea?” He grunted.

“Um, yes please.” I offered an unreturned
smile. “Thank you.”

Berry shuffled into the sitting area and put
a kettle over the fire. He added leaves to a stone mortar, and
ground them to a fine dust with a pestle. He portioned the mixture
into three cups and waited until the kettle steamed before pouring
the water. He held out the cups with a grunt. “Elderflower
tea.”

“Thank you.” Henrik took two cups and handed
one to me. He set his down on the low table and dug around in his
backpack. He pulled out a small satchel and offered it to the
dwarf. “Tyr sends these for you—he appreciates your help with
this.”

Berry took the satchel from Henrik and peeked
inside. His face broke into a terrifying smile as he looked at the
contents. Thank Odin he was on our side.

“Tell Tyr it is my honor to help. We will all
fall if they keep Love from Asgard.” Berry set the satchel on the
mantel over the fire, and climbed into a leather armchair. He
raised his mug to his lips. “To Freya,” he saluted.

“To Freya.” We mimicked his motion and sipped
the tea. It burned my tongue, but it would have been poor form to
refuse Berry’s tribute. The last thing I wanted to do was get on
his bad side. Dwarves lived by a very strict code. An eye for an
eye. No favor without payment. Honor above all.

Though their definition of honor was slightly
different than ours.

“We need your help.” Henrik leaned forward,
hands clasped and elbows on his knees. “Tyr says you might know why
the dragons are acting weird. If they’ve got anything to do with
Freya’s disappearance, we need to figure it out.” Henrik quickly
recapped what we’d learned about the recent Nidavellir dragon
uprisings, their sudden presence in Muspelheim and the
transmutation of the fire giants, and the unusually fast reaction
the mortals were having to Freya’s absence.

Berry steepled his fingers. “The dragons are
moving with more cohesion than usual. Normally the four main clans
battle amongst themselves, but in the past month they have turned
on us.”

My eyes widened. “They’re supposed to protect
dwarves—or at least your minerals and treasures.”

“They used to.” Berry stared at his hands.
“But now they are hunting my people.”

Oh, Odin’s ravens. This is so not good.

“The dragons gather at the base of Einak
Mountain at sunrise and disappear for the day. After dark, they
raid the villages, abducting any dwarf they can capture. Most of us
took to the caves for protection.” Now Berry’s gnarled fingers
cupped his tea.

“Why aren’t you underground?” I asked.

“The dragons granted me immunity.”

“Why would they do that?” Henrik
wondered.

Berry lifted his shoulders. “Because I am
their healer.”

Back the Bifrost up. This little old man was…
a veterinarian?

Henrik nodded. “And so long as you’re useful
as their healer, they let you live.”

“Oh, you misunderstand.” Berry shook his
head. “They are not killing the dwarves they abduct. They take them
to Nidhogg alive.”

“Nidhogg?” I tried to keep the incredulity
out of my voice. There was no way the dragon king from my childhood
bedtime stories was real.

Berry raised one spiky eyebrow. “Have you
heard of him?”

“Who hasn’t?” I stared at Henrik. “He’s not
some fairytale villain?”

Henrik drained his cup and set it on the
table. “It’s news to me. There’s actually a dragon king?”

Berry nodded. “I healed him once. He lives in
Náströnd, protected by his guardians—dense, black shadows that
shape-shift to take on whatever form serves their purpose. They are
like the
ikkedød
, but crueler.”

“We’ve seen them.” I elbowed Henrik with
enough enthusiasm that he rubbed his ribs. “Sorry. But now we know
what they are. Those are the things from the attack footage, the
ones that tried to kill Tyr, and abducted Freya.”

“They sure are.” Henrik narrowed his
eyes.

“So the shadows are the guardians of
Náströnd?” I continued. “Like, they guard the dragon king’s lair?
What do you call them?”

“Around here we call them the specters.”
Berry shivered.

The specters. Yeesh. Those things were
seriously terrifying. And seriously powerful. They’d incapacitated
the God of War and kidnapped the leader of the valkyries, all
without suffering a single casualty.

I sipped my tea as my brain whirred. “I know
Náströnd is in one of the dark realms, but just
where
is it
exactly?”

The dwarf’s face scrunched in distaste.
“Helheim.”