Page 78 of A Curse Carved in Bone
Bjorn’s mother smiled, then sat next to me. “You’re supposed to climb down, not fall.”
“Next time,” I croaked, pushing up on one elbow, it taking far too much effort to get my frozen and battered legs beneath me. Only then did I look around, finding that we sat upon a road of stone, all around us blackness and mist, and above…
“Yggdrasil,” I breathed, staring up into the web of roots that I’d fallen through. “I’m in Helheim.”
“No,” Saga said. “You are between realms, Freya. On the road to Helheim, specifically. A place for mortal souls, but your body was able to come to this place because of the divine blood in your veins. Only the dead may reside in Helheim, and as I’m sure you are aware, you are very much among the living. So do not enter the golden gates.”
Dabbing at a cut on one of my hands that was seeping blood, I had to grudgingly admit that I was indeed alive. “How are you here, Saga?”
“Because my thread is tangled with yours,” she said. “I walk the paths between realms, and while I might step into the mortal world, it is not without cost, for I must be as I was when I drew my last breath.”
Burned,burning,and my stomach twisted at the agony she must endure. “Will you ever be free?”
“I cannot see my own fate,” she answered. “Only pieces of yours, which are ever shifting. Ever changing. And right now, you are caught by the trickster’s choices, and it is he who determines the future of all. To free us, you must cut his thread short.”
Such a simple thing, and yet I knew that to kill Harald would be noeasy task because he was as clever as a mortal could be. “I’m sorry,” I said. “For not seeing through the mask he wore to mimic you.”
In hindsight, it felt so obvious that Harald-as-Saga had been a construct, for she’d been too perfect. Inhuman in her beauty, whereas the woman before me bore the signs of a life lived. Young as she’d been when she was killed, but hands marked with tiny scars, another scar on her chin, and the beginning of smile lines creasing her cheeks and the corners of her eyes. A woman who had lived and laughed and loved, not the marble statue that Harald remembered her as. It made me think he’d never truly known her, nor loved her heart, only desired to possess Saga’s body and the gift of magic in her blood.
“He has fooled many.”
“Did he fool you?”
“For a time,” Saga answered, then sighed. “Harald is not inherently cruel—the suffering of others is not his goal, which is why Nordeland has thrived for so long. Why the people love him as their king. What drives him is the desire to manipulate others, to control them, to outwit them, and suffering is merely the consequence. But above all else, he desires to be loved and adored, and nearly all he does is to achieve those ends. I saw many visions of his future, but they were ever changing and always contradictory, and he did not reveal his bloodline to me. Many times he tried to entice me to join him in Nordeland, but I always declined, for even not knowing what he was, I saw in him the desire to manipulate others. A dangerous trait in all men, but so much worse in a child of the gods, for they have the power to change fate.”
“Is that why he killed you?” I only knew what Harald had told me, and I had no certainty it hadn’t all been lies.
Saga’s green eyes grew distant. “My death was unintended, Freya. He believed that my unwillingness to join his growing cabal was because of Snorri, so he thought to turn my loyalties by making a pretense of Snorri threatening me. The fire was an accident, and though he claims otherwise, I think Harald was motivated by guilt when he took Bjorn with him so as to bring him to a child of Eir for healing. Anemotion that faded once he realized my son was a tool he could use, and his nature took control once more.”
“How do I stop him?” I asked. “How do I get close enough to kill him? Hel’s magic doesn’t harm the Unfated, and it won’t even touch him.”
“Loki is Hel’s father,” Saga said with a shrug. “Though whether she is motivated by fear or loyalty, you would have to ask her.”
My blood chilled, and I looked into the mists around us, half convinced that the goddess of death would appear. But there was only darkness and mist.
And Saga had not answered my question.
“Have you seen what I will do?” I asked. “Do you see how I can stop him?”
“No,” Saga answered. “I have only seen you fail. Seen you die. Seen Harald in a crown, king of Skaland and Nordeland both.”
My stomach dropped, my tongue incapable of words.
“But you can change your fate.” Saga took my hands. “You have the power to save Bjorn. To save Skaland. To save yourself.” She gestured to the roots. “Climb a different path than you fell, and you will emerge away from the prison on that island. As to what you do next, it must be a weave of your own making.”
Rising to my feet, I stared up at the tangle of roots, not relishing the climb, but as I contemplated how to manage it, a rush of air washed over me like the sigh of a giant. Turning, I looked down the road into the mist. “This leads to Helheim, then?”
“Yes. But only the dead cross the threshold into her domain, and they never return. She does not care to part with what belongs to her.”
“I know.” I’d heard Hel’s voice in my head enough times to have a sense of her…covetousness.A trait that, for better or worse, I’d inherited.
“Climb, Freya,” Saga urged. “Ylva means to trade my son for hers. I fear the fate the trickster will have in store for him. You are his only salvation.”
I will be at your back until I cross the threshold to Valhalla, Born-in-Fire,Bjorn’s voice echoed in my thoughts because though I’d never said it, my heart had made the same promise to him.
My aching body trembled, because every instinct in my soul demanded that I go to him. That I protect him from whatever horrible fate Harald would invent for him, because I didn’t think it would be as easy as death. Reaching up, I took hold of one of the roots.Save him,my heart whispered.You know he would come for you.
Visions of a future with him filled my mind, of a life beyond this where we could be happy. Gods, but I wanted that life. Wanted it so badly that it hurt to breathe.
