Page 170 of The Last Valkyrie

My brow furrowed. “Then why did you ally with the Dokkalfar against us? Seems you chose a side.”

She shook her head, the matted locks of her long stringy hair swaying across her breasts. “We did not bring ourselves here, little human. The winged little elf promised us new realm, the return of our relic. He did not expect fragile humans to put up vicious defense. You did. The act of retrievingFlytja’orlogwas to be fluid. Seamless. It was not.” She eyed the dark elf commander behind me to my left, and Vaalnath behind me to my right. “We kill dark elves. We kill light elves. We kill humans. All the same to us, while you lord our relic as your own.”

Was that true? I glanced back at my mates and saw Grim and Magnus nodding.

Grim said, “I thought it was odd when I saw that club-wielding jotun killing Dokkalfar as they came up the hill, and the dark elves avoiding them just as much as we were. She’s speaking the truth, Ravinica.”

I turned back to the giant necromancer, with the confused knot in my brow flattening. “Then I feel even better about giving the Runesphere to you, since it truly belongs in Jotunheim where it was found.”

She glanced down, seeing my hand was still holding the Runesphere out for her. Gently, she took it. Then she lifted her head to address the entire audience—elves and humans alike.

“Flytja’orlogis dangerous. You know not its power. Your races have attained great magic with it. Now, that magic flows in your blood. Enough magic in your bloodlines to last ages,if not forever.” She stuffed the Runesphere in a pouch at her side, which was the size of a backpack when adjusted for our size difference. “If, in thousand years, that power runs out . . . Jotunheim will be there. You may come study it once more, under our watchful eye.”

When I turned to see their reaction, both Vaalnath and the leader of the dark elves looked stunned. They didn’t know what to do—notreturning with the Runesphere to their respective realms had clearly never crossed their minds.

But it had to be done. For Midgard, for our people, and to stop this bloody fighting.

There would always be spats and quarrels between the dark, light, and wood elves. That was their nature, as it was the nature of humans. Conflict was not always a bad thing—it led to evolution and innovation.

But fighting over this fuckingrockmade no gods-damned sense to me. It had to stop, because Midgard was getting thrust in the middle of it. I wouldn’t let my people suffer over something none of us collectively knew much about.

The jotun woman was right. I didn’t even know her name, and I didn’t need to.

She said, “Your fallen humans will remain underground, honored in your way,” and turned around to walk off.

I assumed she meant to say that she would no longer felt the need to summon draug and terrorize us with the ghoulish dead of our own damned people.

It was a small kindness, but a kindness nonetheless.

Her four huge, alien comrades walked off with her in the slowly rising gray morning of dawn. They reached a point in the earth and the jotun woman cast a spell and easily summoned a portal at her side.

“Little winged human,” she called to me, and I blinked in awe at her power, her grace when I had expected none. “Dragon can close portal. Do so once we leave.”

I nodded firmly, and then the jotnar vanished to their realm, one by one stepping through the misty mirage-looking gateway the necromancer had summoned.

My heart dislodged from my throat and I gawked as I turned to everyone else gathered there. “Well . . . that went better than expected.”

MaltorVaalnath said, “For you, perhaps. The Ljosalfar have lost a treasured artifact.”

“No,Maltor,” Corym said at his side. “We have not lost a treasured artifact. We have gainedpeace. Don’t you see?”

I said, “If you disagreed so heartily with what I was doing,Malto, then why did you not try to stop them from leaving with it?”

Vaalnath sighed and shook their head. “Because you were right. As were they. I may not like it for my people, yet I cannot deny the usefulness of the endeavor. It is a job well done, dragonborn.”

The dark elf at the other end of the crowd scoffed and shook his head. He turned away with his white-haired Dokkalfar.

“Wait!” I called out, rushing over to them.

When the trio of leadership turned with their hands on their weapons, apprehensive expressions on their faces, I lifted my hands in surrender.

“Do you agree to abide by the terms set, Dokkalfar?”

“We had no part in making such terms,” the leader said. “Neither did you, human.”

“So you will continue to attack Midgard and Alfheim?”

He flared his nostrils, clearly chagrined, and swiftly shook his head like he was embarrassed to say what he had to say. “We will return to Svartalfheim. Consider our options. Consult ourleaders. One thing the giant was right about: None of this has come as easy as Korvan or Gresh’kellen promised.”

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