Siren Slave (47 page)

Hedwig gave Freya a long, wary look. She took a deep breath before she spoke. “We did our best. For being a mortal, he survived surprisingly long.” The implication hung thick in the air.

Freya clenched her fist. “Well, I came with a plan. And it might work if he isn’t dead yet.”

“You didn’t tell me about this plan,” Siegfried murmured.

“That’s because I just came up with it.” She held aloft the wineskin she had clasped on her belt before they came ashore.

“I have a healthy appreciation and respect for booze for making a shitty day way better, but ale isn’t going to fix this,” Hedwig said. “
Nothing
I had could save him. When Hecate’s powers didn’t work, I tried all kinds of potions on the poor man. He ended up with boils for a little bit, not that it made much of a difference.”

****

Hedwig led them into the airy chamber. It was filled with more mosaic designs, mostly of Hecate battling those Freya would guess were members of the Ard Righ’s army. The white curtains billowed in the warm breeze. The windows were open, admitting the fresh, floral air. But the floral scent was mixed with the stench of sickness and rot.

Freya was glad to have her mother and Siegfried on either side of her. Berengar was in a large bed, atop the blue sheets. Or at least part of Berengar. He was missing an arm and both of his legs. And part of his face. He was groaning. Siegfried went completely still. Freya turned away. It wasn’t the nausea. She was in her armor. But to see her dear friend like this?

No, she could fix this. Her hand tightened around the skin, and she approached the fallen soldier. “Berengar, friend, you are indeed a worthy warrior. Live again another day to fight with us.”

He looked up at her, brown eyes tired. He was too weary to even speak a word. She tipped the skin to his parched lips. A blinding light illuminated the room, a light so bright that it was Enbarr worthy. All four of them were thrown backward.

“Ow. Brightness. Unexpected brightness,” Hedwig said, shaking her long tresses from her face.

Freya spread the fingers before her eyes, so she could slowly reveal what was before her. She gasped.

“That’s some crazy booze,” Hedwig said.

“No.” Freya ran to the bedside and gripped Berengar’s hand. “It was the Wisdom.”

“Valkyr,” Berengar said. “Valkyr.”

“What?” She pulled away. He called her “Chooser of the Slain” like the men on Siegfried’s boat. “You weren’t slain…because you weren’t dead.” She examined the man’s whole flesh, the healthy color returning.

“Freya.” Berengar blinked, life in his eyes once again. “Freya? Where am I? Am I…dead? Why does Etainen have antlers?”

He got no further, because Freya bent and hugged him tightly, like she had so many times before. “You’re well, Berengar. You’re well. You’re safe. You’re fey…you’re…back.”

“You could bring dead people or at least nearly dead people back to life with the Wisdom,” Hedwig said, jarring Freya from her reunion. “That makes great sense. We heal better than humans do. You realize you can get your own little warrior enclave for whatever purpose. Like stopping Loki.”

Freya gasped and peered into the skin in her hands. “It’s still full. I gave him almost half. How is this possible?”

“Strange dream,” Berengar said, taking in the room. “Maybe I’m still dreaming. Fighting with Etainen and Freya in the form of a bear, or half-bear. Both.” He rubbed his head. “I was so angry in the dream, tearing apart elves? Yes, they had long ears. Elves. I was tearing them apart with my teeth. I know, very strange dream. Elves and bears. What’s going on?”

“Berengar, that’s your power dream,” Hedwig said patiently. “I’ll stay. I’ll explain.”

Berengar’s attention was still on Freya. “I knew you were a Valkyr, Freya. I don’t know why or how. But I transformed when I was angry in the dream, and there were lots of unicorns and rainbows?”

****

“Keep the Wisdom,” Siegfried said to Freya. The realization was very clear to him. “We may need more like Berengar. We don’t know many here. It will not hurt to have loyal warriors at our backs.” He thought of those that were on Avalon, those men and women who had tried to fight at his side in Folkvang.

She gave him a slow nod.

“You are keeper of the Wisdom now. Words have remarkable significance amongst the fey.” Siegfried took hold of her shoulders. “Mimir gave a price, as did you. A price Berengar was willing to pay as he has already been loyal to the cause of freedom.”

Freya’s eyes flickered from his face to the Wisdom, then a grin spread over her face. She pulled from Siegfried, looking to Hedwig. “You want to see what happens to you if I do the same as I did to Berengar? Let’s test this, Sea Bitch. Because Siegfried was your test subject for Lo—” Freya noticed Hecate, who was pointedly looking away. “That potion.”

Hedwig shrugged. “I’ve had Wisdom before, and I already lost that stupid bet. Fine. And don’t forget, Long Hard Night got you what you wanted, so I don’t want to hear any complaints. So, you owe me some of my own Wisdom.” The Sea Witch retrieved a bottle of white wine from her satchel, then downed it in its entirety.

Freya poured a single drop of Wisdom into the empty bottle. The bottle was instantly filled with the swirling liquid. Interesting. So now Freya had become a guardian of the Wisdom. And she was giving Hedwig her
own
Wisdom? Gods. If Hedwig had her own Wisdom, they’d be stuck with a lot of drunken sailors that the Sea Witch would want to be rid of the following morning.

“Say the words again,” Hedwig said when Freya handed her the bottle. When Freya repeated the words she’d spoken to Berengar, Hedwig held aloft the bottle of Wisdom. “Here’s to doing some fun and crazy shit. More times like the Well of Wisdom.” She took a long swallow.

Siegfried hardly thought the Well of Wisdom incident was
fun.
But if he was right, it proved advantageous.

Hedwig’s eyes closed. Siegfried grimaced and caught her, and the bottle before it smashed on the mosaic tiles beneath them. He was tempted to grab Freya and leave before she awoke, lest she suggest they find some other important place in the Otherworld to destroy.

Hedwig was not out for long. And it was not a slow, bleary wakening. No. The Sea Witch stepped away from Siegfried, cackling.

“The Sea Bitch now can have swan wings. I had the best power dream. Tons of snarling sailors with really nice chests all around me.” She licked her lips. “So, are we going to find more yummy warriors for Hed—, er, to fight against Loki? I’ll help you choose some men and see if I can’t find any women to assist our cause to find more adorab—worthy dying men.”

“And what is your criteria for worthy?” Why had he even asked?

“Oh, that’s easy.” Hedwig grinned at him. “Does this man have the nicest chest? No, but he has nicer eyes. Well, this one has more muscular thighs. And this one has a bigger—”

“Hedwig,” Siegfried said. “This is not a joke. This is my life, Freya’s life. We need—”

Hedwig rolled her eyes, snorting. “Would you relax? I was kidding. Gods. You’re too serious.”

He shook his head. It was all too easy to imagine her jest being real.

Freya grabbed Hedwig’s arms. “Will you acclimate Berengar to the world of the fey? In fact…” Her grin became mischievous. “In fact, choose me some more slain. Go to Folkvang and see if anyone is salvageable with the Wisdom. Yes?”

“Uh, where do you want me to send them to meet you?”

That answer was easy. “Freya, I think you should send them to Asgard,” Siegfried said slowly. “To Valhalla. It’s time your father did something for you that might be useful.”

“Look at you, Siegfried. Forcing Woden not to be a waste,” Hedwig said. “Keep him, Freya. He’s devious.”

Siegfried looked to Hecate, who’d been oddly silent. She nodded with approval at the situation, as if not surprised at all. So she’d known somehow. Enbarr had told her more than she’d told him. But he already knew it was because Hecate hadn’t had the time.

“Let Berengar rest and Hedwig explain this all,” Hecate said, gesturing toward the door. “I’m proud of you, daughter. Perhaps this is your path.” A smile slipped over her serene features.

****

“Woden is riding his nephew,” Freya said, alighting atop a palm. She frowned, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Her wings supported her so she did not tumble from the arched trunk. Her hand shielded her eyes as she gazed, presumably, at Woden.

“What?” Siegfried blinked up at her from where he stood in the flower-strewn foliage. He must have misheard her. The two had been conspiring against her father, small, childish plans that were more for satisfaction than to resolve the issue that Woden hated Siegfried. One idea had been for Freya to approach Woden with one of Hedwig’s unsavory potions.

“Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse. One of Loki’s many children.” She shook her head, tsking. “Gods. I have an eight-legged horse for a cousin.”

“Well, are the two of you going to do something besides lead the game away from him and make it rain?”
Enbarr burst from the foliage in a spray of white hibiscus blossoms. Butterflies fluttered from his mane. Bright birds circled around his horn, chirping.

“Enbarr, are you saying you would like to help?” Freya asked sweetly.

“I will do more than help. I will make this pathetic plot a success. I cannot stand that irreverent boor that is your sire, Bright Mane. Wave Walker, get on my back and hang on to my mane. I will suffer your uncoordinated presence for this.”

Freya laughed. “I’ll stick close and catch you should you fall off.”

Siegfried grabbed a fist of Enbarr’s mane and, with a grunt, leapt upon his back. Enbarr tore off. At least the ride was smooth. Ruining Woden’s would be well-deserved retribution.

“Stop trying to resist the motion of my gait. Roll with it like you do your ship. And lean forward. Do not tear out my mane either. I spend time at sea for a little while and find the two of you plotting against
him
without me. Perhaps you would prefer some drooling creature that delights in…Fetch the Starfish.”

“Enbarr, you’ve planned for everything else. What do we do about Woden? It doesn’t seem as if we will get rid of him.”

“I have already decreed that the two of you will wed. Woden does not matter.”

“I’m fairly certain we’re marrying because Freya and I decided we would.” Siegfried’s hands tightened in the wispy locks of unicorn hair.

“No, you didn’t decide a thing. When I met you, I decided to let you live for the sole purpose of my prophecy. I know you were not kind to Bright Mane when you first met. Yet, I suffered you to continue drawing breath.”

“So you are saying that Freya and I are only attracted to each other because of a prophecy?”

“Foolish faun.”
Enbarr snorted, increasing his speed. At least Enbarr’s gait was smooth, unlike any other equine he’d ridden.
“The prophecy knew the two of you were right for each other, that you’d need each other for what’s to come. Prophecies don’t make people feel certain ways. Prophecies can always be stopped. These prophecies were made before Bright Mane was even born. You could even say she was made for you, Wave Walker. So forget Woden. I can feel worry in your breast. Know that the Superior of All Equines has spoken.”

Siegfried looked behind him and up at Freya. The sun gleamed on the sharp tines of her trident. All those times he’d thought she was made for him, she had been, in a way. That amazing creature, they both belonged to each other.

“You’ve wanted this talk for some time. I, personally, left Folkvang to watch you on occasion. Bright Mane was the one who pointed me toward you, when she spoke of you. I protected the messengers who brought you her letters. If Ulf forgot one, I had butterflies or doves leave it somewhere so the next messenger in the line would find it. When I met you, I knew your Horn-Kin name instantly, just as Freya knew you as her match.”

He let Enbarr’s words settle over him before he asked the next question. “How did you come to meet Hecate?”

“During the Great War. One of my people was caught amidst a skirmish. She has a soft spot for Four-Legs and rescued her. The unicorn was my oldest daughter, Nephele. Thus, I owed Shadow Weaver a debt. When I met her, the prophecies you’ve heard came to me. I only had to guide her.”

Siegfried had to change the course of their discussion. He pulled blue wings from his teeth, nearly falling from the unicorn’s back. “Why are there butterflies surrounding you? Can you get rid of them? I’ve almost eaten three already.”

Before Enbarr answered, he gave a wild neigh, leaping into the path of an oncoming stallion with silver-blue fur and a dark blue mane. Its hooves were shining black, and its eyes a startling yellow. It had eight legs. Woden shouted as Sleipnir reared back, near throwing him.

There were more butterflies, so many Siegfried couldn’t see a thing. He wisely closed his mouth. When the gossamer wings somewhat cleared, there were bright birds, dropping garlands of flowers in Enbarr’s path. Siegfried pulled a stray one from his antlers. Gods. There were birds sitting in them, chirping, as if they planned on settling there. He batted at them until they flew away.

Enbarr, it seemed, was not content with the birds and butterflies. No, a breeze gusted, blowing flower petals, becoming a wind that formed a tunnel of them. Siegfried groaned.

“Why am I not surprised the two of you would be fast friends?” Woden said, his single eye affixed on Siegfried and Enbarr. “Birds, butterflies, flowers, and rainbows go so well with the panpipe playing and jig dancing. Balder and I are about the manly business of the hunt.”

Balder looked down at his lyre, letting his dark hair fall over his eyes.

“Race me to the beach, Woden,”
Enbarr said, rearing onto his hind legs. Siegfried clung to his mane.
“See if that eight-legged abomination can match Lord of the Unicorns.”

“Very well,” Woden said, thrusting his spear above him. “And we’ll see if the faun can stay on your back. Balder, you count. To three. Hear that, faun?
Three.
Not two. And definitely not eight.”