ERIK
Erik faced the final night of his three-day journey deep into the heart of the Aelderwood. He carried a sacrificial offering over his broad shoulders, the goat’s throat soaked a thin line of blood down the sleeve of his tunic. The clan leaders did not agree with what he was about to do, and they demanded he stray far from the village to protect Drakame from any collateral damage. But Ailsa had been gone for nearly six moon cycles, and he was desperate to get her back.
His last moments with her were not the kind he liked to think about. His temper had once again gotten the best of him, his lack of control only rivaled that of his father’s, and he never wanted to be like that man. He remembered the hurt in her eyes when he snapped at her, when he said things he didn’t mean, the way she looked back at him one last time as she left with the fae. The memory so clear, it was like it happened just yesterday. The guilt still fresh as if no time had passed at all, and his shame ate at him day and night.
Erik needed to know if she was alive and what had befallen her after the night she left her home with that man—no—that monster with yellow eyes and godlike power. Nikros had ordered him to wait, but he had done enough waiting these last several months. He hadn’t even traveled home, breaking his vow with his promised bride and undoubtedly shaming his family name by ignoring his duties as clan leader.
But he didn’t care. He needed answers, and tonight he vowed he would have them.
He placed the offering in the center of a stone altar, using the blood from the puncture sight to draw runes the town seeress instructed him to scribe on each stone surrounding the sacrifice. He then grabbed a torch and set the bed of bramble and sticks on fire, burning the dead goat and watching the smoke curl to the heavens, calling the dark forces who would not deny a man as desperate as him.
Erik’s lips used the old language to call the witches, and to his surprise, they answered.
“Well, hello there, handsome,” a soft voice spoke behind him. Erik spun and found a woman draped in black robes emerging from the shadows spacing the trees. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder while her blood red lips curled in a smile. “Tell me, why is a pretty boy like you calling upon the Volva?”
“Answers,” he said. “A woman was taken from me by a man from another world. I need to know if she’s all right. If she is, I want to save her and bring her home.”
“Of course, a woman.” The Volva witch licked her lips with distaste. “And do you have something of hers I can use to track her location? I cannot find a soul without something they have touched.”
Erik dug into his cloak and pulled out a note she had written him before his father all but dragged him across the Great Sea. The one he replied to like a coward, breaking off their relationship so his family could start a wealthy empire in the Westlands. He had chosen his family over her all those years ago, but he kept her words. The last ones that belonged to him.
The witch snatched the letter from his hands. She brought a blade to her hand and cut her palm, letting blood bleed across the faded ink. Erik winced, but said nothing as she ruined the note, only watched as the witch’s eyes widened. Her breath hitched in surprise; a smile curled again on her porcelain face.
“This woman you seek, she is alive,” the witch said. “But she is not in this realm. If you wish to bring her home, you will need a bit of sedir to assist you with your quest.”
“I will do anything,” he replied. His heart thundered against his ribs, praising every god he could think of. Ailsa wasalive.
The witch sighed and thought for a moment, crumbling the note in her palm until it disintegrated into crimson ash. “There is a man who guards her. If you wish to save her, you must kill him first. I will give you the power to cross realms and a weapon that can slay gods, but you must repay me with your blood. When the time comes, I will find you, and you will do as I say. Even if it cost you Valhalla. Even if it costs you everything. Do you understand the consequences of this bargain, mortal?”
Erik nodded before his mind could convince him otherwise. It was his fault she was out there and held captive by a demon. It was his job to find her and bring her home. He could not live the rest of his days carrying this shame in his heart. “I understand. Help me find my Ailsa, and I will be at your service no matter the penalties.”
“Good,” the witch beamed. “This is going to be a beneficial partnership for us both, pretty boy.”
She held out her bloody hand and he took it. Lightning shot through the place they connected, the light sensation of snakes crawled beneath his skin, swirling up his arm no matter how hard he tensed. When the witch released him, the discomfort ceased. He pulled back his sleeve to find red lines covering his forearm. Markings he’d never seen before.
“They are blood runes,” she explained. “So you cannot go back on our arrangement. They will give you the power to open the portal separating Midgard from the Tree. In your satchel I have placed a dagger forged from the mines of Svartalfheim, the only blade that can penetrate fae skin, and a map of the Tree leading you to your woman. Do not speak of our deal to anyone else, especially Ailsa. If you do, I will end you using those runes.”
Erik nodded, still examining the red lines across his skin. “Thank you,” he muttered. “You don’t understand how much I want to see her again.”
“Trust me, Erik, I knowexactlyhow you feel.”
Hearing his name from her lips forced his gaze back at her, but the witch was gone. Leaving him only to wonder about her meaning. He picked up his satchel and unfolded the rolled-up map she had somehow placed inside, skimming over various lines running over the Tree of Life toward a red dot marking one of the Lower Roots.
“Vanaheim?” he whispered. “What in Odin’s eye are you doing down there, Ailsa?”
Erik took a steadying breath before strapping his new blade next to his old, feeling more hopeful as the gilded handle chilled the clammy flesh of his palm. He had the map, the magic, and now the means to kill the elfin who had taken everything from him. The embers of his rage flickered anew, the memory of those golden eyes burned a fresh fight in his heart.
He would find Ailsa and bring her home, even if it destroyed him.