“Please, cousin. Desperation pushes people to make all the wrong decisions and do horrible things. I should have come home more and tried to talk to my mother. Maybe I could have helped instead of running away to nurse my own wounds. I promise I will do whatever I can. Now go!”
Alva pulled her hand back, once again cradling her head as Freyja’s voice once more pierced her brain. Maya nodded once, then turned on her heels and sprinted across the room to what looked like another tunnel, its black maw swallowing her cousin’s body as a loud crash came from the top of the stairwell.
“Alva?” a vaguely familiar feminine voice said from above, her breathy words almost drowned out by the sounds of battle. “Alva, answer me!”
She recognized the voice as Aleksandra’s—the soothing Night Witch. At least, that’s how the pretty woman always made her feel the few times she had been in her presence. The pain in her head disappeared. She cleared her throat and cried out, only to hear a sound resembling a dying toad. She cleared her throat again, and the stabbing pain returned.
“I’m here,” she said and hoped the Night Witch heard her as more screeching tore through her mind. Freyja, please stop...
The goddess withdrew, and Alva’s mind cleared once more. She breathed a quick sigh of relief, although the pain in her head remained. A noise caught her attention. Pale-blue light filled the cell behind her, bathing the passageway in front of her in its glow.
With the headache fading, she now heard the slapping of shoes against the stone stairs and prayed it wasn’t another enemy. She didn’t have the strength to stand up to the other women in her cousin’s unit. Even knowing someone was coming, when Aleksandra loomed before her, Alva jumped. Covering her mouth with both hands, she stopped the building scream from escaping. The last thing she wanted was to alert any other guards, just in case the fighting turned against them.
Aleksandra’s hands gripped the iron bars as her frantic expression turned to one of relief. “Oh, thank the gods we finally found you! Are you hurt? Do you need anything?”
Dropping her hands down to her sides, she smiled. “Well, getting out of here would be nice, then definitely a bath—with a very rough scrub brush—and after that, a meal. I’m starving.”
Aleksandra rolled her eyes. “I can be so dense sometimes.” She stuck her hand in her pants pocket and pulled out an ornate, ancient-looking gold key. She shoved it into the lock, the mechanism silently turned, and the door opened. Aleksandra pulled the door toward her and smiled. “Better?”
Alva stared at her, then at the key, still stuck in the lock. Without warning, it burst into a shower of golden lights that fell to the stone floor. She blinked and the key was gone. “What was that?”
Aleksandra reached in and pulled her from the cell. “Freyja gave it to me. It’s some kind of magic key—much like the old skeleton keys used in castles and manor houses on Midgard. She said it was keyed, pun intended, to the person needing to be released. In this case, you. Don’t ask me how it works because the magic spell she chanted was in another language.”
Alva nodded, not quite sure what to say. A noise coming from the tunnel where Maya had disappeared drew their attention. She couldn’t tell, though, whether it was a person or animal, and hoped for the latter. Battling a Huldra, especially one trained in warfare, in her current weakened condition wouldn’t end well.
Unmindful of the consequences, she stepped in front of Aleksandra. “Stay behind me. You don’t want to fight a Huldra.”
“Tell me about it. I saw the mayhem upstairs. Huldra poured into the castle’s Great Room in droves. We couldn’t tell who was friend or foe, and after a few minutes, it didn’t seem to matter. No one was safe, so we fought whoever shoved a weapon in our faces.”
Alva frowned, listening for any sound coming toward them, but heard nothing. Turning her head slightly, she whispered, “Freyja fought with a weapon? I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, it’s true. In the first few minutes, she tried using her magic, but it didn’t seem to work. None of her spells worked, so she summoned a sword. I was envious. I have never seen such a beautiful weapon.”
“Did the handle have different metals intricately twisted into a guard—the part that protected her hand?”
“I know what a guard is and yes, the metal twisted and curled around her hand in an blend of what looked like gold-, bronze-, and silver filigree.”
Alva felt the former Russian pilot move closer. Drawing in a deep breath, the woman’s sweet scent filled her nostrils, reminding her of vanilla and magnolias. Unfortunately, it was all she could smell, so if something or someone was making their way toward them in the tunnel, she wouldn’t be able to identify what or who it was.
Okay, little light, I need a bit more power, so I can see better.The now-familiar blue glow brightened until she could make out the shadowed shapes around her. She laid her hand on Aleksandra’s slender arm. “Stay here. I need to get closer to the tunnel. If there is more than one Huldra, run.” Her grip tightened. “Promise me, Aleksandra, that you will leave me.”
Her brown eyes widened, but the Night Witch pressed her lips together and nodded, stepping back until the rock wall stopped her.
Praying her friend would keep her word, Alva crept toward the tunnel entrance, then stopped. Holding as still as she could, she inhaled, recognizing the scent of adrenaline-laced blood mixed with the acrid odor of fanaticism, but it was the second, more potent scent, that gave her pause.
As she stood there, trying to decide her best move, a bit of her strength returned, and she didn’t feel quite so drained and weak. Straining her ears, she listened for any sound and almost missed the slight brush of material as it scraped against the rock wall in front of her.
A high-pitched screech filled the room and bounced off the chiseled stone walls as a large figure hurtled toward her. She raised her arms in front of her as a flash of silver momentarily blinded her. Bracing herself, she waited for the impact, but nothing happened. Holding her breath, Alva peeked around her hands and watched as Brita’s eyes widened. Maya’s first lieutenant opened her mouth and blood trickled from both corners.
Her arm rose, the sword clattering to the floor between them. A horrible, gurgling sound filled Alva’s ears, as if Brita were trying to say something, before she tilted sideways and crumbled to the cave floor. Alva’s gaze met the dark-blue eyes of her sister, Adriana, who held a bloody dagger in her hand.
Her younger sister, Clare, stepped out from behind Adriana and laid her hand on her sister’s arm, the blade slowly lowering. “You know the drill. Clean your blade, then we can take Alva to Mother.” She leaned closer to Adriana’s ear. “She’s waiting, sister,” she said in a gentle voice.
Adriana’s stricken gaze met Alva’s. “I didn’t want to kill her,” she whispered. A tear slipped from the corner of her sister’s eye and slid along the side of her perfect nose, only to disappear at the corner of her mouth.
Holding out her arms, Alva stepped toward Adriana. The dagger slipped from her sister’s trembling fingers and clattered to the floor as she met Alva halfway, sobbing against her shoulder as Alva held her close. She didn’t speak, only rubbing gentle circles over Adriana’s back as her sister’s tears slowed, then stopped.
“I’m a terrible Huldra.” Adriana sobbed against Alva’s neck.