Ragnarok: I Bring the Fire Part VI (Loki Vowed Asgard Would Burn) Read online

  It’s Bohdi! Amy runs out of the tent; it collapses behind her like a deflated balloon. She looks back and catches her breath. A woman she’s never seen before is standing out in the open, a smile on her lips. Amy blinks. It’s a snow sculpture. “My, my,” says Beatrice. “That’s very pretty, but we have to get to cover.” Taking Amy’s shoulder, Beatrice steers her to a large boulder. The boulder is about six feet wide and seven feet high. It juts toward the beach, offering some scant protection from the sky. Some downed tree logs have been laid against it, offering more protection. The snowmobiles are arranged around the structure in a semi-circle, providing a little more cover. Claire is already tucked at the bottom of the large rock between snowmobiles and the rock face, still in the sleeping bag, sound asleep. Nari is huddled near her. Valli crouches on top of the boulder behind another crude barricade of rocks and downed logs, facing up the mountain slope, his back to the shore of Lake Balstead. His magical wind-controlling sword, Kusanagi, is drawn. Other men are positioned at the base of either side of the boulder and behind trees.

  A flash of green from the lake catches Amy’s eye. She turns and gasps. There is a wall of green fire out on the ice. She hears a crack and the bugling of whales. Black shapes in the sky above the fire draw her eye, and she sees the winged shapes of Valkyries. If they had left the camp, they would have been out there trapped between water, whales, and whatever enemy is coming down the mountain. But now … her heart pounds. She looks between the flaming lake and the mountain’s slope. They’re trapped here instead. The Valkyries fly out in wide arcs, avoiding the air above the team. “Out of range,” she hears someone say. Unholstering the Glock she was issued back on Earth, Amy clicks the safety. It shakes in her hand.

  Beatrice guides her beneath the rough arbor of logs leaning against the boulder. Putting a hand on her shoulder, she says, “Don’t worry, I’m covering you.” In Amy’s pocket, Mr. Squeakers, Amy’s spidermouse, gives a squeak, as if to say, “Me too.”

  Beyond the makeshift fort, Fenrir turns to the forested incline and begins to growl.

  Over the shared frequency comes Larson’s voice. “I don’t see anything.”

  Amy taps her radio. “With Asgardian nearly-invisible armor there won’t be much to see.”

  “Fire traces,” says Berry, voice crackling with static. “Follow up with incendiary rounds if you see them bounce.”

  Someone chuckles. Amy hears shots, and then hears a few whistles. Someone says, “Oh, this will be easy.” More shots go off. And then someone swears. “Incendiary bullets aren’t working.”

  Nari mutters, “Damn, Odin’s given them the good armor.”

  Amy swallows. Loki had armor that was nearly impenetrable to heat and projectile weapons, too. She squeezes her eyes shut. It was expensive stuff, normally something only worn by the highest ranking officers.

  Amy hears someone laugh in the forest. And then a voice rises, speaking in stilted English, “They have women and child. Freyr’s own bitch Gerðr is with them ... who going to fuck the princess?” Raucous laughter follows, male and female. Amy’s eyes slide to Gerðr. The Frost Giantess’s face is red, rifle raised, and she’s aiming into the forest. She’d been married against her will to Prince Freyr, a Vanir loyal to Odin. Larson puts a hand on her shoulder. Over the radio, Amy hears his voice. “Wait.”

  Someone among the enemy shouts, “Gerðr, surrender, and I’ll be gentle.” Amy hears more laughter. She feels a chill at the base of her spine—the rude calls, the laughter. Tapping her radio she says, “Those aren’t Einherjar.”

  “Explain,” says Steve.

  Sigyn beats her to it. “These are mercenaries in very nice armor.”

  Nari shudders. “That’s … not good.”

  Amy bites her lip. In her mind she sees Loki’s memories of Odin’s mercenaries. They were the ones who forced Odin’s hand on reinstating the brutal treatment of prisoners that even Odin found unpleasant. She remembers the bloodied, tortured Fire Giant she saw in Asgard. If they lose, it will be very bad. She looks up the slope, her heart sinking. And Bohdi is up there alone with them.

  x x x x

  Bohdi zigzags behind a tree, and another bolt of plasma streaks through the space he was just in. He hears wood cracking and smells smoke.

  Someone swears. He veers hard right. He hears footsteps and more shots. He sees the orange light of plasma above him and feels heat. Snow, rocks, and wood pieces fall on his back and shoulders. Ducking behind trees and rocks, he tries to head toward camp and finds himself entering a small clearing with tree tops just beyond it. He’s dashing across when his brain catches up with his feet. He comes to a skidding halt right at the edge of a small, rocky cliff. He looks down and sees a twenty-foot drop … He hears laughter and bolts to the right just in time for a blast of plasma fire to go over his shoulder. He finds himself once more surrounded by trees. Glancing to his left, his heart drops in dismay. The small cliff he’s found himself on continues in the direction he’s running.

  Laughter rises behind him. His skin heats as his feet pound through the snow, and his breathing becomes louder in his ear. Of course they’re laughing—he is a helpless rabbit on the run. He’s separated from his team, and from Amy, Steve, and Claire. He won’t be able to help them fight. He starts to see red at the corners of his vision. He hears a growl. Somewhere in his brain it registers—it’s him. The men continue to laugh, and intermittent bursts of plasma fire over his head. The edges of his vision get darker.

  Pausing, he looks over his shoulder. He can’t see his pursuers, but he hears their unhurried, unworried voices. It makes him furious. He will not be helpless. He sees a fallen tree leaning against a boulder and another tree with low branches just before a small clearing. Racing forward, he pulls off his parka and throws it over the log. As an afterthought he puts his hat on the log’s jagged top. He surveys his handiwork for only an instant. The black log with his clothes makes a good decoy of a skinny Indian guy. Jumping onto the boulder he launches himself onto the tree and climbs up. He knocks down a significant quantity of snow as he does, and hopes they’re too far back to see.

  Pulling out his knife—a wickedly curved karambit he’d won from one of the agents back in Chicago—he hears footsteps approaching, but peering around the tree trunk, he still sees nothing. And then a black shape descends from the sky. Bohdi’s breath catches. It’s a humanoid figure with black wings, carrying a plasma spear in one hand. The chest and face of the new person are armored and nearly invisible, but whoever it is wears leather armor on their legs and arms, and from the form he would guess he’s looking at a woman. Bohdi squints. Something about her isn’t quite right. Her wings look dirty, the leather armor on her limbs looks worn and unkempt.

  She lands and he sees three more sets of footprints in the snow beside her, and three more plasma-firing spears that seem to be walking themselves. The winged figure says something in a voice that’s clearly feminine, but rough. A visor flips up above one of the sets of footsteps in the snow, and a man’s face appears. His cheeks are red, and his nose looks swollen. He laughs, says something to the other sets of disembodied footsteps and marching spears, and then flips the visor down.

  Bohdi tilts his head. Their laughter and the woman’s dirty wings—these aren’t like the cool and professional Einherjar and Valkyries he’s met. Did Odin send the dregs of his army to exterminate them? One of the four sends a blast of plasma fire at Bohdi’s parka. All of them laugh as they stroll over.

  Their slow pace gives Bohdi a chance to think and to feel the cold. A moment later he can hear the four warriors below him, but in their armor, they’re nearly invisible. He is an idiot. He has a knife against four battle-tested warriors with spears and who knows else what.

  A voice echoes up through the barren landscape. “... Gerðr I’ll be gentle,” and then laughter echoes up from down the slope. The heat beneath Bohdi’s skin returns, the edges of his vision go crimson, and he doesn’t want to fight the warriors, he wants to end th
em. The clouds must clear, because a bolt of sunlight streams over Bohdi’s shoulders, and he can see that the armor on their backs is reflecting the blue of the sky. Bohdi leaps from the tree.

  Chapter 3

  Amy sits clutching her gun by the rock face.

  Fenrir’s growls turn to barks. Amy thinks she hears crackling twigs.

  “Here they come,” says Larson.

  In her ear, Sigyn’s voice buzzes, “Valli, now!”

  Amy looks up to see Valli stand from his crude shelter. Without a word he swings Kusanagi in a wide arc. She hears the whistling of wind and sees a cloud of snow whipping through the air. Sigyn cries, “It’s working! The snow is sticking to their visors.”

  Someone says, “They’re lifting them, I have a clear shot!”

  “Fire,” says Berry, his voice completely level.

  Amy looks up again and Valli is dropping down below his meager cover. Shots sound, over and over again, steady, like a drumbeat. Or that might be Amy’s heart. From the woods she hears men scream.

  Berry’s voice crackles. “We need another blast of snow.”

  Valli stands and swings his blade again. Amy hears the familiar gale—perhaps a little less forceful this time. And then, before he’s down, a blast of plasma hits him in the chest. He goes flying backward off the boulder and lands with a thud just beyond the wall of snowmobiles and downed logs. Nari and Sigyn scream, “Valli!”

  Without thinking, Amy hurdles over the barrier of parked vehicles. Valli’s parka is charred black and still smoking. Dropping to her knees, she pulls away the thick glob of plasma on his chest with her mittened hands and feels the burn even through the layers of fabric. She packs as much snow as she can onto the armor on Valli’s chest. The plasma hasn’t melted the Kevlar, but his armor is still hot and the snow sizzles and melts. She keeps packing more, vaguely aware of Beatrice, Sigyn and Nari at her side moments later. Gunshots sound again, and high above their heads plasma fire streaks, but they’re still in the cover of the boulder. When the snow on Valli’s chest stops melting, Amy’s hand goes to his neck. She feels his pulse, steady and sure, but his eyes are closed. Beneath his head, she sees a brown rock peeking through the snow just below the level of the helmet he’s wearing. “Concussion,” she says. “He should wake up any—”

  Valli’s eyes snap open. “Where am I? I have to get back to the fight!”

  He starts to sit up, but Amy pushes him down. “Passing out after a concussion is your brain’s way of keeping you horizontal while it gets better.”

  Valli sneers. “I am magical! My brain heals very fast.”

  Beatrice tsks. “Listen to my granddaughter.” Sigyn puts a hand on his shoulder. “You still need to give yourself a few minutes.” She glances back toward the boulder. “But we should get you back to shelter. They’re switching tactics.”

  It’s at that moment that Amy notices the plasma fire and gunshots have stopped.

  Growling, Valli jumps to his feet … and immediately pitches forward. Nari and Sigyn catch him just before he hits the ground. Amy and Beatrice hang back while they help him over the barricade. Plasma fire and more gunshots resume again. The sky above them darkens.

  “Above!” someone shouts.

  Amy looks up and sees the sky peppered with black Valkyrie wings—the bodies they should be attached to strangely transparent. She blinks, no, the wearers of the wings are wearing magical armor over their mid-sections. “Down, Amy,” shouts Beatrice, pushing her to the ground as Nari and Sigyn help Valli stumble into the shelter.

  “Get to cover,” Berry shouts.

  The team members fall back into the makeshift fort. They fire from beneath the enclosure and wings fall from the sky, their nearly invisible wearers screaming in rage. “Their wings aren’t bullet proof,” someone says.

  “Now, Amy,” Beatrice says, pulling Amy forward. Before they can reach the enclosure, plasma fire sizzles into the snow in front and to their sides, creating a cage of fire around them. From the sky comes the sound of raucous laughter.

  Sigyn shouts, “Harpies!”

  Amy is sucked into one of Loki’s memories. Sigyn is pacing in front of him, complaining about the women who come with the mercenaries. “They’re too violent and undisciplined, but they want to be Valkyries. The sisterhood is refusing to take them, but they’re petitioning for wings …”

  A shot goes off by Amy’s ear, and Amy’s consciousness comes back to the present. Beatrice is beside her. Lifting her rifle, Beatrice fires again. Amy can hear gunfire everywhere, and women are falling, screaming in anger and pain, but the plasma cage is still around them. Amy has her Glock! She folds back the fingers of her mittens, aims the pistol, squeezes, and the trigger doesn’t move. She checks—the safety isn’t on. Plasma fire streams beside her … but none is hitting her. Why aren’t they hitting her or Beatrice?

  A moment later, Beatrice is ripped away from her and into the sky and then Amy is being lifted too. She lurches toward the ground, and the hands fall away. Over the gunshots she hears someone say in Asgardian, “The Allfather still wants that one alive.” Women are screaming around her, the sky is a thick sea of wings and feathers and blood.

  She feels hands grabbing the back of her coat, and she’s being lifted up. SEAL members are running out of the shelter, and they’re attacking her attackers. She wants to struggle, she wants to help, but she’s being choked by her own parka. Dropping her Glock, she throws her hands to the fabric around her neck just to keep breathing. Harpies swarm around her, wind rushes against her face, she looks down, and sees the tips of the trees by her feet. She hears Steve’s voice over the radio. “Do not shoot Lewis!” Gunfire erupts from the ground, and beside her winged women plummet, but whoever is holding her just keeps going up and up, veering eastward. She can’t see Beatrice, but she thinks she hears her hollering below.

  The shouts from the team become faint, and more winged women come to swarm around the woman carrying Amy—disconcertedly difficult to see in their armor. But then, laughing and snarling, some raise their visors, and Amy wishes she couldn’t see them. Their faces are like grotesque masks of Valkyries. In Asgardian one of the women says, “She’s not so pretty, what does the Allfather possibly want with her?”

  Fingers burning from where she clutches her parka, Amy kicks at the woman, but misses.

  The woman laughs. Out of the sky a brilliant flash of white appears, covering the woman’s head. For a moment Amy thinks she’s passing through a cloud. The woman curses and rips at the thing. It takes Amy a moment to realize that the Harpy is covered by a parka. Plasma bolts streak by her, hitting another woman dead in the face. Around Amy, the Harpies scream and visors drop. Another woman comes hurtling toward Amy carrying four spears in one hand. Amy blinks. All she can see is short black hair and brown skin and then the new woman catches her hard in the chest, ripping her from the grip of her captor, and then they’re chest to chest, falling fast, not like they’re going to die fast, but still, too quickly.

  Amy slips, and her face is pressed against a very not-womanly chest. “I don’t really know how to work these things,” a familiar, not-female voice shouts over the wind. In her pocket, Squeakers gives a happy cheep and begins climbing up her side.

  Steve’s voice crackles over her radio, “Lewis, can you tell us what’s happening?”

  “It’s Bohdi! Bohdi’s got me!” Amy answers. Realizing he’s barely holding onto her, Amy grabs hold of his waist. His fingers relax—but only a fraction—and they’re still falling, but in a wide loop. A few Harpies break off from the flock and give chase. “Hold on!” Bohdi shouts. Whipping the spears around, he shoots plasma bolts at the womens’ wings. A few more women approach, but they’re picked off steadily from below. Without Amy in the center of the swarm, the SEAL team quickly clears the sky. She looks down and sees people in camp take off their hats and wave up at them, the wings and bodies of Harpies strewn about like leaves.

  In her ear Steve’s voice sounds, “They’re retreatin
g.”

  “Do we pursue?” someone asks. A snowflake catches on Amy’s cheek. And then another. She swears the wind is picking up.

  Steve’s voice sounds over her radio. “No. Lewis, can Bohdi land?”

  Amy looks up at Bohdi, a frigid wind whipping her hair over her face. She sees Squeakers has perched on his shoulder. “Can you land?” she shouts over the wind.

  Two spears clutched in either hand, he looks down and shouts. “Wings, down!”

  They drop like a stone, and Bohdi screams, “Not so fast, Wings!” Their descent slows, and Bohdi shouts, “That way!” The directions do absolutely nothing; they continue to descend in a wide loop.

  Amy looks down. The clearing they are headed toward is pretty small and dotted with trees. They swoop past it, and Bohdi says, “Whoops.”

  Amy gulps. Her arms are starting to burn with the effort to keep from dropping. She tightens her grip and Bohdi chokes out, “Wings, circle back!” They swoop toward the camp, and Bohdi says, “Wings down slowly.” They start descending into the narrow space in which the tent had been. Amy hears some admiring whistles. And then from below, Steve calls, “Your wings are going to clip that tree!”

  “What?” says Bohdi.

  Mr. Squeakers gives a frantic cheep. It startles Amy, and she slips down Bohdi’s waist, putting her cheek in a very awkward position.

  “Sorry,” she says, face getting hot.

  “Umm …” says Bohdi.

  “This way,” shouts Steve, his voice very close.

  At just that moment, a gust of wind hits them, hastening their descent. Amy’s feet connect with something and suddenly Bohdi is tumbling on top of her. She topples backward, and Bohdi follows. It’s only when the wind is whipped out of her, she’s flat on her back, and her face is plastered in Bohdi’s stomach—thankfully not lower—that she realizes that the something her feet connected with is actually Steve and she’s now laying on top of him. Steve’s about as comfortable as a bag of rocks, and Bohdi is surprisingly heavy. She feels herself getting light-headed by the effort to breathe.