War and Famine: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Revelations Book 2) (14 page)

“So what would you propose?” Kim asked, leaning forward so one of her hands was pressed into the center of Caleb’s chest. “I’m willing to go to Muspelheim with you if it gets us out of here.”

“You must rise and take me from the ground, but once you do that, Caleb will likely not be able to wield me again.” The shadow shook its head sadly. “I am the source of his power, the essence of who he is. At the moment, he is combined with another god known as the Blue Prince, but if they should part company, Caleb will be left powerless among his people. That is very bad. He has many enemies.”

“Why will he not be able to wield you again? Aren’t you his sword?” Kim said as a bad feeling crept down her back like an icy spider. Could she really strip Caleb of his powers? If it meant getting out here she might have to, but then again, Caleb was part god. What if he didn’t like her stealing his fire? After all, she was pretty sure Prometheus of Greek mythology was still getting his liver pecked out by a vulture for doing a similar thing.

“If you take hold of me, it will set in motion a chain of events from which it will be very hard to deviate. Incinerator will likely be taken by another or destroyed. There is no other way I see it happening.” A sad edge filled the shadow’s voice as he spoke. “I do not relish leaving Caleb. He has helped me to temper my anger, has allowed me to fight on the side of good. I have enjoyed it.”

“Perhaps this isn’t the end for the two of you,” Kim said, getting to her feet. “Perhaps it is merely the next chapter in your story, King of Muspelheim.”

She didn’t hear the sword’s response because the shadow vanished the moment she was no longer touching Caleb’s bare flesh. She took a deep breath and made her way forward. She wrapped her hands around the blade’s hilt and glanced back at Caleb.

“Sorry,” she whispered, pulling Incinerator free of the red rock. It was so heavy, she needed to use both hands, and even then she couldn’t raise the tip of the sword off the ground. “But I’m confident you’ll find a way back to each other.”

Orange flame licked across the length of the blade, casting dancing shadows across the rock. Kim tried to lift it once more, but failed to move the enormous weapon more than a few inches as fire crackled along the back of her mind. She got the vague impression of a blackened form large enough to blot out the sun itself, peering out from its hearth.

“Hello?” she asked, dragging the sword toward Caleb. As she moved, the blade left a trail of hellfire in her wake. The rock smoldered and popped before melting into puddles of molten glass.

“Hello,” Surt murmured in her ears. His voice was so faint she could scarcely hear it over the crackling fire in her brain. “Place your hand upon Caleb’s chest, and I will draw upon your mantle to conquer this place and open a portal home.”

“When you say home you mean Muspelheim and not my actual home, huh?” Kim asked as she knelt beside Caleb and tentatively touched his chest with her fingertips.

“What kind of touch is that?” Surt boomed in her ears. “Your bond with me is tenuous at best. You’ll need to use Caleb’s bond with me. That requires real skin to skin contact. Be thankful I’m not demanding you strip off your clothes and lay atop him naked!”

Kim blushed so hard her neck turned pink. Then she bit her lip and pressed her palm against the hard muscle on Caleb’s chest. A murmur escaped Caleb’s lips, and his body began to glow with ethereal light. Fire leapt through the air and struck the conjured sun above their heads. It popped like a balloon, spilling fire around them that began to swirl through the air like a tornado.

Caleb’s eyes opened, only unlike their normal green, they were the color of sapphires. His lips quirked into a smile as he reached out with one hand and laid it atop her own, trapping hers against his chest.

“Hello, Kim,” he said but his voice was distorted and higher pitched than normal. He licked his lips, and the gesture sent a shiver running down her spine. “It’s about time we’ve met.”

“Caleb?” she asked, moments before everything around them vanished in a blur of lava and hellfire.

Caden 02:04

“Caden, do you trust Odin’s judgement?” Ian cried as the broken bag of impossible objects burst across the sky. Moonlight wrapped around them, turning each one into a key etched with a design representing the impossible object from which it had been born. The keys hovered in midair for a moment before exploding across the horizon. They smashed into the snowy landscape around them like meteors, turning the icy ground surrounding them into meter-wide smoking craters of bubbling slag.

A howl split the air, ripping the horizon asunder and spilling molten light across the sky. The ground beneath their feet cracked like an icy lake. Caden stumbled as he struggled to keep his balance while his lizard brain looked for a place to run and hide. He shoved the feeling down inside himself and swung his gaze toward Oski. Did he trust the guy? He always had before, and now that he knew his former bible group leader was none other than Odin the All-Father, why should that change? If Oski said they needed to release Fenris so they could destroy the creature, Caden believed him.

“Yes,” Caden called back as the wind whipped across the snowy plains, covering the keys in whirling tornados of mist and ice. Even still, their light shone through, bright enough to light up the whole of Jotunheim even if the sky hadn’t turned the color of hot lava.

“Okay,” Ian replied, his jaw set in determination. “I’ll trust your judgment then.” Ian turned to face Vidar, the godly son of Odin and offered the man his hand. “What do you say, Vidar? Do you trust the wisest god in the nine worlds?”

“No!” Vidar hollered. His amber eyes flashed as he whirled on Ian in a rage, his axe already slicing through the air at breakneck speed.

Ian stepped aside, allowing the weapon to pass through the space he’d just occupied as a grin spread across his lips.

“I’m not sure why, but I was sort of hoping you’d say that.” Ian’s voice was colder than the frozen wastes of Jotunheim. Ian casually flicked his wrist and frost crept along Vidar’s weapon. The god reversed course, bringing the axe back around in a deadly arc that Ian blocked with an ice-sheathed palm. The head of the axe shattered into a billion scintillating shards of metal that littered the snowy plains. “Caden, get the keys. I’ll hold off Tall, Dark, and Scruffy.”

Caden nodded before sprinting off toward the first key. It glimmered only a few feet away. He wasn’t sure how long he had, but something told him, he’d be better off hurrying.

When he was almost to the key, another howl echoed across the landscape, nearly stopping him in his tracks. The ground between him and the key erupted in a sheet of flame. He skidded around it, losing his balance and toppling to the snow. Cold exploded along his arms, soaking through his thin sweatshirt in a heartbeat. He definitely wasn’t clothed for this. Already, he was starting to lose feeling in his feet. He’d have to hurry. If he didn’t, there was no way he’d survive the frozen wasteland long enough to release Fenris.

He got to his feet and staggered forward. With each step, his feet felt more and more like blocks of lead. After what felt like hours, he stood over the first key. It rested at the center of a crater. Veins of moonlight stretched out from it, worming into the cold ground and glimmering. Heat rose from the key, beckoning him to take it if for no other reason than warmth. He reached out toward it, but stopped only a few inches from the key that would unlock one of the bindings around Fenris himself as a horrible thought struck him. Was he seriously going to unleash the wolf, and furthermore, what if they couldn’t stop the creature? He shoved the thought away. No, they had to be able to kill Fenris. Oski had said they’d be victorious, hadn’t he? He’d just have to trust the god’s judgment. If not, well, they were screwed.

As he wrapped his hand around the key, cold exploded along the length of his arm, turning his skin blue. A shiver rippled down his body so violently, he collapsed to his knees in the snow, teeth chattering hard enough for it to hurt. He jerked the key free of the roots of moonlight holding it to the ground. It had a tiny mountain emblazoned on the head. So this one must unlocked the roots of a mountain. Was that why the moonlight had rooted it to Jotunheim?

“Boy, you mustn’t release the wolf!” Vidar cried as another blast of ice and sleet ripped through the air. He turned toward the sound as an axe skimmed so close to his chest, he’d have been dead if he’d so much as exhaled. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to shove off the fact he’d nearly been killed despite both Oski and Ian fighting the god. It was two on one, and even from here, Caden could tell they were losing. He had to hurry. He might not have much time left.

“Caden, I want you to think about something,” Oski called as he got back to his feet, blood dripping down his face like a crimson mask. His big hands glowed with purple light as he pointed at Vidar. “My son is currently being influenced by Fenris, and at this very moment, is actively trying to stop you from releasing him. Why do you think that is? Fenris has been trying to get free for millennia. Why would he keep you from releasing him when getting free has been his sole desire since the moment he was fettered by Gleipnir?”

Caden stood, clutching the key to his chest even though it was like an icicle in his hand. It glowed through his numb fingers, spilling moonlight across the snow in front of him. “Because the wolf knows he’ll lose if he emerges now,” Caden whispered, and even though his words were lost in a sudden gust of wind, Oski nodded knowingly. Had the god still somehow heard him?

“Why else would he wish to remain captive, Caden? He wants to take on the horsemen one by one from within the safety of his bindings. It’s the only way he can win.” Before Oski could say more, a blast of gray energy struck the god in the chest, flinging him backward across the snow.

A cry ripped from Caden’s lips, and he took an unconscious step toward the fallen god before stopping himself. Fighting Vidar and helping Oski wasn’t his task. His was to release the wolf. He had to do that. If he didn’t, everything might be for naught.

He turned toward the next key, ignoring the guilt swelling up inside him at leaving Oski to Vidar’s mercy. The key’s head stuck out of a drift to his left, barely visible beneath the swirling white mist. All he could see of it was the image of a cat’s paw. He sprinted toward the object as Ian’s body careened through the air. His friend struck the ice between him and the key with a sound that made Caden wince. Steaming blood poured from a cut above Ian’s eye, dripping down along his face and partially blinding him. It was very similar to the wound Oski had suffered from. Was that Vidar’s plan? To blind his opponents with their own blood? If it was, it definitely seemed to be working.

Another axe flew through the air, but Ian managed to get his arm up in time. A sheet of ice interposed itself between him and the weapon. They both shattered in an explosion strong enough to throw Caden from his feet. He landed hard on his back, struggling for breath. Everything around him spun as he lay there, trying to remember what was going on.

Before Ian could scramble to his feet, an iron boot struck him in the chest, lifting him into the arc of a bus-sized fist. The brutal haymaker flung Ian across the icy dunes like a broken mannequin.

Vidar turned his gaze from the fallen horseman and fixed it upon Caden. His amber eyes glinted in the light of the moon, making him seem wolfish and evil. His iron boots sunk into the snow and cracked the icy ground as he sauntered forward like he didn’t have a care in the world. Why should he? Oski and Ian both seemed like they were down for the count. What was Caden going to do to him when the two supermen had failed?

“Give me the key, boy,” Vidar said, and the whole of the frozen world trembled as the Norse god held out one hand, palm up. “Or I will kill you and take it. Either way, I will have the key.”

Caden wasn’t quite sure why the god bothered to ask for the key. He’d dropped Ian like the horseman was a fat girl at prom. Oski lay in the snow behind the god, head lolling to the side, eyes closed. Unless… was there was a reason why he was asking? If there was, well, Caden wasn’t going to give up the key without a fight. Even if it was likely to last for less time than an overhyped UFC match.

He got slowly to his feet and took a wobbly step toward the next key, ignoring Vidar’s steely gaze as best he could. “Nah, I’m good. Do you know how many strange hippies I had to ask before I found the roots of a mountain? Let me tell you, it was not my finest moment.” He shook his head in revulsion. “I’m pretty sure I got a contact high just by standing next to one of them.”

Vidar cocked his head to the side like he was thinking something over. It was a little weird because Caden sort of expected to already be dead.

“Is that so?” the god asked finally, stopping to bend down and pick up a bearded key at his feet. Caden hadn’t even noticed it was there. “I’ve never actually met a hippy, but I find tie-dye delightful. I’d always wanted to try making a t-shirt with the blood of my enemies.”

A shiver ran through Caden that was completely divorced from the chill of the arctic wasteland of Jotunheim. Was the god planning on making a tie-dye shirt out of him? Caden hoped not, but then again, it might not matter. Vidar had one of the keys. If he left with it, how the hell was Caden going to release the wolf? No, Vidar had to be stopped, somehow.

“You can’t take that,” Caden called as he scooped up the cat-paw-headed key. Two down, seven to go. Unfortunately, that last one might be a little hard to get. Then again, he could always go make a new one, even if he didn’t relish the thought to going back to ask another bearded lady to let him cop a feel. The one time he’d done so already seemed a bit much for his lifetime experiences.

“I can, and I will,” Vidar replied, turning away from him and making his way off into the snow. He made it about three steps before he was batted sideways across the wasteland by a monster-truck-sized Frosty the Snowman. Only, in addition to being ginormous, this Frosty looked like he’d been hitting the steroids a little too hard.