Page 80 of A Curse Carved in Bone
I clenched my teeth, annoyance beginning to rise above my fear because it seemed she would give me no straight answers. “Don’t you want his soul?”
Hel bent closer and exhaled, the stench of a corpse wafting over me. “Yes, Freya. I do.”
“Then why won’t you help me kill him!” The words came out as a shout, which I immediately regretted as she bent even closer. The hair on her dead side brushed my hand, and it felt like barrow worms crawling over my skin.
“I have given you power over death,” she hissed. “Power to make those destined for Valhalla tremble in terror. Weave your own fate, daughter.”
And then she was gone.
I curled up tightly and wrapped my arms around myself, my breath coming in great heaving gasps. Shakes wracked my body and my throat burned with nausea. I’d come here for nothing, and who knew what horrors had befallen Bjorn in the time I’d wasted here.
Then a warm tongue slid up my arm.
I cried out and toppled sideways, my shield striking the ground with a clatter. It was Garmr who’d licked me, and he now stood watchingme.
“What do you want?” I asked him. “Do you have a solution?”
He only snuffled my arm with his huge snout, then turned his great head to watch as shadowed shapes climbed out of the river and walked toward the open gates of Helheim, what lay beyond obscured by mist.
“I have to go back,” I said to the hound. “I need to help Bjorn.”
My voice cracked on his name, because I had no idea how I’d save him. But I had to try. Shoving to my feet, I tried to walk back over the bridge. But Garmr blocked my path.
“Let me go,” I snapped at him, trying to go around, but the hound only stepped again into my path. “Bjorn needs me!”
Bjorn.
I froze, his name having drawn up from the recesses of my mind the story of Baldur. Of how he’d been sent to Helheim through Loki’s trickery. Hel had agreed to release him if all the world wept, and though that had not come to pass, it struck me that the offer had still been made.
Hel had the power to release souls from Helheim.
I have given you power over death. Power to make those destined for Valhalla tremble in terror. Weave your own fate, daughter.
Slowly, I turned to watch as the gates opened for yet another soul, watching as it disappeared into the swirling mist. Not long ago, I’d sent hundreds upon hundreds of Skalanders through those gates, though they hadn’t deserved it. Warriors who deserved a chance at Valhalla.
The gates began to slowly close.
Hel had given me her power. All of her power. But I had one that she did not.
Sucking in a deep breath, I bolted toward the gates and dived through their opening.
Right before they closed with an echoing thud.
It was cold.
Colder than the depths of winter, my breath blooming in great gusting clouds and my hands already aching as I climbed to my feet. I pulled my hood over my head and shoved my hands in my armpits, but it made no difference.
Because this was the coldness of death.
All around me were mist and darkness, the former swirling as I lifted my left hand and covered it with Hlin’s magic, the silver light revealing a tunnel. Seeing the soul I’d followed, I hurried after her, my shield bouncing on my back. She was old and gray, but when I touched her shoulder, she didn’t seem to feel it. “Hello,” I said. “Do you hear me?”
She gave no reaction, only carried on walking with a blank expression on her face.
“This might have been a mistake,” I muttered, then broke into a run, winding my way through the endless tunnels. I passed dozens of souls, young and old, and none paid me any mind.
I raced onward, the cold piercing deeper with each passing moment,and it occurred to me that I might be dying. That by coming within the hall of the dead, I’d not only secured a new fate but an inglorious one that achieved none of what I’d hoped for. That Harald would rule over all the north while I walked the dark and misty halls of Helheim until the end of days.
Faster,I ordered myself.Run faster.
