Page 79 of A Curse Carved in Bone
“I will weave my own fate,” I whispered, then let go of the root and picked up my shield.
“Freya?”
I was already running. Sprinting down the road, knowing that Saga was too afraid of being pulled into the afterlife to follow. Faster and faster, I ran, my boots slapping against the midnight stones forming the road and my shield bouncing on my back, mists pressing in on all sides. Sounds emanated from them, the growls of beastly throats and the scratch of talons, and fear coursed through my veins.
The air smelled of earth and moisture, and above me, the roots of Yggdrasil shifted and moved, though I wasn’t certain whether it was because the tree was sentient or if the motion was caused by something else.
Or someone.
I slid to a stop at the sight of a great river stretching before me, waters black and bottomless. Instead of sounding like rushing water, it was as though a battle raged in its depths in an endless clash of steel against steel. A bridge of dark stone that glittered with gold stretched over it, and on the far side, a golden wall reached up to impossible heights. In the wall was a pair of twin gates that would need the hands of giants to open. Before them stood a black hound the size of a bear, its gleaming eyes fixed onme.
Garmr.
The creature let out a low growl, sensing that I did not belong. For I was among the living, and this was a place for the dead.
He prowled onto the bridge, and I swallowed hard as I saw the crimson droplets dripping from his dark fur.
“I am Freya, Erik’s daughter,” I said to the beast, though I had no notion of whether he could comprehend my words. “Child of Hlin and of Hel. I would speak to my divine mother.”
Lips pulled back to reveal teeth as long as my hand, and the hound let out another low growl.
I reached for my shield but then thought better of it and whispered, “Hel, grant me your power.”
Magic boiled up inside me, burning hot, and the hound paused, eyeing me with a crimson gaze that I suspected mirrored my own. He leaned forward, sniffing, and it was all I could do to hold my ground. His breath reeked like a week-dead corpse but was somehow cold as a winter wind.
Then he lowered his head and stepped to one side of the bridge.
Taking a deep breath, I crossed and then stopped, my eyes fixed on the closed gates to Hel’s hall. Only the dead could enter and, once inside, no one left again. Which suggested that I was best served by remaining here.
“I would speak to my divine mother,” I shouted, expecting to be ignored. But no sooner did the words exit my lips than did the gates crack open. Beyond, all I could see was a wall of mist that obscured whatever lay behind the gates, and through it stepped a giant.
I took a staggering step back, my eyes climbing up the giant’s form, but even as I watched, she began to shrink. Diminishing in size with each step until Hel and I were of the same height when she stopped before me. Her changed stature made her no more human in appearance. Wiry and stooped, half her face was a beauty to behold, golden hair falling in lush curls to her waist. But the other…it was the bluish hue of a bruise or of flesh lost to frostbite, so sunken that I could see theshape of her skull beneath, and her hair hung in wispy lengths of the darkest gray.
Half alive. Half dead. The goddess of death.
“Daughter.”
Her voice was the sound of snakes crawling through dead leaves, terrible and horrifying, and I dropped to my knees. “Mother.”
“This is not a place for the living.”
“I am of your blood,” I countered. “It is my place.”
Icy cold fingers touched my chin and lifted my face to meet her gaze. One eye was blue, the other was milky white. Not red, as I’d thought they might be, and I didn’t know what to make of that. “I need your aid.”
Her head tilted.
“I must defeat Harald of Nordeland,” I said. “But when I try to send his soul to your realm, you will not take it. Why? Is it because he’s Loki’s child?”
“Souls of the Unfated are not so easily claimed. To do so risks the ire of my brethren, which I’ll not do without worthy cause.”
“Fair enough, but at least with the others, the roots appear. For him, you don’t even try. Do you fear retaliation from Loki?”
“Fear?” Hel smiled in amusement, and I recoiled at her teeth. Half pristine white and half rotten, but all fangs.
Every instinct in my body screamed that I should run, but I held my ground. “Why, then? Do you favor Harald over your own daughter? Do you desire him to triumph over your own blood? Already he’s made a fool of me. Tried to kill me. Imprisoned me. You could have prevented all of it by telling me his nature.”
“You are not imprisoned.”
