“Time,” she looked across the landscape leading toward the distant mountains. “As much of it as you can give me.”
Drieger smiled and clutched the mallet in his fist, his blue knuckles turning white. “Well, we didn’t plan on leaving just yet. We’ll keep the gods busy, Ailsa. Go help your elfin.”
“Thank you!” She slipped past them, following the entrance from the destroyed gathering hall where the giants lined up waiting to take their revenge. She ran as quickly as her breath allowed, ignoring the wheeze inevitably building in her throat as her feet flew across the portico leading to the Convocation.
“Ailsa, wait!”
She stumbled to a stop and turned to see Frey approaching her, his braid now unbound in long, golden waves. His robes floated in the vicious night breeze, sticking to his body, revealing the outline of his breast and curvy hips through the thin garment.
He noticed where her eyes traveled. She asked, “I thought you were—”
“I am both Frey and Freya,” he said, catching up to her. “A god and a goddess, worshiped through different names but the same deity.”
“And you switch back and forth between identities?”
He nodded. “Yes, though I am generally referred to by my masculine title. There is power in a man’s name, but Freya gets to have her fun when matters exceed a man’s authority.” He waved a hand dismissively. “But I am not here to speak about myself, I am here to help you.”
“Why would you help me?” she asked. “You’re one ofthem, one of the gods.”
Frey shook his head. “No, Ailsa. I remember being as much of a pawn in Odin’s struggle for power as you are now. Surely you know my story?”
She did. Frey and Freya were traded by the Vanir to the Aesir as an exchange of hostages to maintain the peace between the god tribes. But Ailsa maintained her guard. She no longer trusted so easily.
She nodded and Frey continued, “Gullveig was my sister, my mentor, and my closest friend. When Odin burned her, he burned a piece of my loyalty with him. Her power is inside you, and Odin will stop at nothing until he has it. But he cannot take it if you bind it to your soul.”
“I do not want the ancient power,” Ailsa protested. Her breath was heavy in her chest, drowned by the fluid in her lungs exacerbated from the stress of the evening. She wouldn’t last much longer without her medicine, but there was no time with Vali in danger.
“That is why you are the best one to control it. You’ve tasted it, have you not? You’ve let it out in spurts and glimpsed the knowledge of the original power and have done things your mortal hands could never accomplish. The fates sent you the power for a reason, made you a Tether so you would carry it into your destiny. It is threaded into your life’s spool to be your ending or your beginning. It is your choice, Ailsa.” he said. His eyes glanced at her hand. “Your rune mark is fading. Vali is dying. You can still save him if you leave now.”
Ailsa’s gaze fell to the world beneath them, her heart torn in so many pieces.“But how will we save Alfheim without Odin’s help?”
“There is more than one way to fight for something. Always remember that.”
She looked down at her hand, the back now blistering, the ink lighter than it had been before. Tears burned her eyes, blurring the corner of her vision. “I don’t even know where he is or how to complete the rune!” she admitted, finally realizing she was in way over her head.
“Look down your bond. It connects you always. As for the rune, you already know how to make one. Remember, the bloodmustbe willing. Make my sister’s sacrifice worth it, Ailsa.”
Makealltheir sacrifices worth it.
Her father, Marrin, Lochare, Sorrin, her clan, the elves, so many bodies littered the trail for this power to be with her, to come to her. For their sakes, she would make their deaths worth something.
Starting with her next choice.
Her whistle screamedinto the night, carried across the realm by the shifting wind that tugged her gown like a sail inhaling the gust. Elísar remembered her as he descended on top of the Convocation and let her mount his back. The saddle was cold between her thighs without Vali’s heat behind her.
She quickly buckled her legs into the straps, her fingers trembling from the frigid night air. Ailsa focused on the rune once more, just to be sure of the right location, before kicking off the eagle and forcing it to charge over the edge.
A string of curses left her numb lips as they caught free air. She would never get used to the rush, never tire of the thrill of flying. She stood high in the saddle, feeling more comfortable the second time around, as the eagle spread its wings and ascended over the earth.
“The Haven, Elísar,” she spoke to the bird in pain language, praying it would understand through the pleading strokes of her palm against his neck. “We must go into the mountains, to Haven. Find Vali!”
The bird shifted its wings to the west, and Ailsa shuddered a chilled breath of relief. Somehow the bird sensed her desires, and they flew above the quiet world where Vali was calling to her through the inky veins on her hand. She reached for the dagger at her thigh, the icy metal stung her skin with cold.
“I’m coming,Sólskin.”
Vali had known pain before, but this was a type of suffering he had only just been introduced.
When Ivor was through branding his body with the iron, tracing the runes on his chest and melting his skin to the hot metal, she brought a torch to his hand and set the skin on fire. Being drained of blood, he was powerless against her torture. Unable to so much as lift his head and see what was coming next.