COF 29

 The apple was like nothing he had ever tasted, it’s flesh soft against his teeth, Lezard biting down hard. The large chunk lay on his tongue, and it seemed to sizzle with heat, it’s liquid gold juices oozing down the back of his throat. He chewed, tantalized by the taste, trying to pinpoint what it was that it reminded him of. His eyes closed, finding it sweet as candy and as intoxicating as wine.

He swallowed, and he could have sworn he was able to feel the progress of that bite of apple, follow it past the swallowing of his throat to slip down past the workings of his body, to his stomach. All the way down he stalked it, until at last it remained still, his whole body starting to tingle, feeling the apple pulsate to the beat of his heart. His body throbbed, his heart beat ringing loudly in his ears, and Lezard felt something building up inside his body.

He leaned back on his knees, stifling back a moan, feeling heat in his face. Pleasure reverberated through his body, intense and hot, leaving him straining in his pants, longing for release. His mouth opened, and Lezard cried out, drawing attention to himself, even as he felt his body explode, causing him to fall forward and writhe on the ground. He rolled, twisting this way and that, his pleasure turning to pain as his body turned against him.

He wailed out his grief, fingers scrambling in the sand, dirt getting under his nails. His back was on fire, Hel’s curse shooting intense pain down his spine. He was bowing back, hands ready to rip out his own skin, and he didn’t even notice as a stray spell bounced into him, only to be absorbed by his flesh. “Ah…AH!!” Lezard panted heavily, eyes squinted shut.

“Lezard?!” It was Lenneth, her voice fearful and worried, sounding a million miles away. It was distorted, almost muffled, and other voices joined hers in concern. “What’s wrong with him?!”

“It’s Hel’s magic! He’s dying!”

Dying? Thought Lezard. His body quaked with massive trembles, and for a second he feared he’d throw up the apple. “Fools!” raged Odin’s voice. “Worry about your own hides!” Lezard had to clap his hands over his ears, drown out the sound of thunderous magic. It was too loud!

Even as he screamed, trying to block out the sounds, his body fought him, seeming as though it would split apart. He felt the skin on his back shift, moving as though it was separate from him. Nausea rolled his mind at the sensation of movement, and he nearly wept to feel his skin cracking apart. Something emerged from his back, a large shadow falling over him.

“No!” Odin’s voice, shocked and enraged. “How can this be?!”

“He…He’s a…” Lenneth whispering, sounding as clear as bells to him. “A God!”

“I won’t allow it! Gungnir!” Lezard sensed, more than saw the blade hurtling towards him, and he welcomed the death it would bring. Anything to stop the pain his body was going through. But it was not to be, the cumbersome thing on his back moved, hunching over him protectively. The sacred lance bounced off of him, clattering harmlessly to the ground.

Lezard opened his eyes, and despaired, lost to darkness. The pain rolled him over again, and the thing…things he corrected himself, realizing there was two of them, brushed against the sand, tingling as though they were connected to his very nerves. He was lost to the pain, and this strange blackness, oblivious to what was going on around him. A cool breeze settled over him, and he shivered, finding the cold chased some of the pain away.

He went to stand, slowly rising up from his knees, and heard the rustle of feathers. If only I could see! The things on his back responded to his unspoken desire, pulling back from his front. Lezard let out a gasp, glancing about. He had no words to describe what he saw. After all how do you describe a rainbow to a man who had never seen color before? Hues he had never even dreamed of blazed into life before his eyes, and if he squinted he could make out the aura of everyone…of everything, seeing their life energy ebb and flow, some strong, some weak.

The Gods’ were the color of royalty, a deep purple, and as he gazed down at his own body, he realized his aura was that color too. He shook with excitement, and again he heard that strange rustling from behind him. Other sounds were assaulting his ears, he could hear everything from the sound of a tiny mouse’s quiet footsteps, to the loud booming voice of Odin.

Odin was screaming at him, hurling insults and power. Lezard merely shrugged off his words, simply content to take in these new sensations that flooded his body. The pain was receding as he directed his interest elsewhere, holding his hand up before his face. His skin was flawless, even the lines of his hand, including the fabled lifeline was smoothed over, gone.

Again the thing on his back curled over him protectively, preventing another ether attack from harming him. This time Lezard reached forward, touching the things, and was unsurprised to feel feathers ruffle under his hands. He tugged on one of the pointed pinions, and he felt a pin prick of pain as it came free of the mass over him. He ran his hands over the large feather, feeling it’s soft down and laughed. He now knew what this was. I have wings! Lezard thought in wonder. He concentrated, and they pulled back, unfurling around him, and he gazed down at the feather, his feather in his hands. It was sheer black, not the pure white of Lenneth’s angel wings, but an inky smear of darkness.

Lezard didn’t have time to wonder what this meant, didn’t have time to fully process all that was happening. His nostrils flared, and scents suddenly assaulted him, forcing Lezard to breathe out of his mouth, to try and control the odors. Breathe? He realized he hadn’t been breathing for a while now, hadn’t had enough need to inhale or exhale. Lezard let out a giddy laugh, and saw the mortals clamp their hands over their ears, pain on their faces. He frowned, lowering his voice to a whisper, but to them it sounded as though he was talking at a screaming volume.

His eyes drifted towards Lenneth, and even as a mundane mortal she was lovely, her beauty radiating from the inside out. He could see her soul, a shining clean thing, as pure as the driven snow. He looked past it, to see her clearly, see her blue eyes wide with shock, her mouth hanging slightly open as she gazed on him. Lezard smiled, wondering what he looked like to her, unconsciously striking a pose, his wings spreading out around him. If he concentrated, he could hear her heart, frantic in it’s beating, her anxiety apparent.

“Lenneth…” He wanted to go to her, to crush her to him. His body quivered, wondering what she would feel like in his arms, wondering what it would be like to kiss her now. He was almost in a daze as he slowly stepped in her direction, Lezard seeming to have forgotten everything else on the battlefield. He blinked, seeing Lucian step in front of her protectively, holding his sword in a two fisted grip before his face.

“Stay away from Lenneth!” shouted Lucian, the Valkyrie hidden behind his body. Lezard frowned. Who was this…this insect to keep him from his love? He took a menacingly step forward, harmful intent glinting in his eyes. Glass crunched underneath his foot, distracting him from Lucian. Lezard looked down, and saw his spectacles crushed underneath his right foot.

His hands flew up to his face, finding them empty of his glasses. Lezard let out a laugh, realizing he had no need for them now. “This is wonderful!” His pleasure bubbled out of him, the mage running his fingers through his hair, smoothing back his bangs. Lucian and Lenneth seemingly forgotten. Gungnir came intruding on his thoughts, and Lezard whirled around, holding up his hand, “Petro Disruption!” He didn’t even have to began the laborious task of chanting out the full words to the great magic, instinctually knowing that just saying the trigger words would cause his bidding to unfold.

Gungnir came up against a solid block of stone, it’s progress impeded as it’s tip scrapped harmlessly against the rock. Lezard lowered his hand, arching an eyebrow at Odin. The Elder God scowled, his face turning ugly as his features twisted in rage. “Sorcerers always make the most troublesome of Gods.” He muttered. With a flexing of his hands, he gestured, Gungnir returning to his grasp.

He looked consideringly at Lezard, an instant before he was on the move, rushing forward to swing his spear at the mage God, hoping to cleave his head clean off his neck. Lezard easily side stepped the attack, and Odin skidded to a halt, twisting around to narrow his eyes at Lezard. The mortals were watching the two square off, almost scared to speak, frightened to draw either God’s attention to them.

Lenneth moved her head from side to side, trying to peer around Lucian, to get a better look at Lezard. His appearance was mostly the same, and yet…it had changed in tiny, subtle ways, such as his hair becoming a richer shade of brown, his amethyst eyes blazing with untold power, and those wings! They were magnificent, twice as large as Lezard’s body, an oil stain of darkness that was not a true black. There was a slight purple sheen to them where the sunlight reflected off his feathers.

He was fascinating to look at, almost mesmerizing, Lenneth wanting to go to him. She felt bewitched by him, and she wondered if the fluttering of her heart was the same stirring he had felt upon looking at her for the first time? She went to take a step forward, and was startled to feel arms around her waist, hard metal against her chest. “Lucian!” She hissed. “Let me go!”

“Stay back Lenneth.” He ordered, pushing her backwards. “It’s not safe!”

“But…” She weakly protested, trailing off.

Mystina was off to the side of them, hands on her hips, stave clutched in her right hand. She glared hard at Lezard, unimpressed with his transformation. I don’t believe that little twerp! She seethed to herself. He always gets everything he wants! It’s just not fair!

Up in the sky Freya and Hel fought, golden ether attacks clashing against dark spells of fire and hatred. “Thunder sword!” Freya shouted, forming a sword of yellow lightning in her hand. She rushed towards the orange haired Goddess, thrusting her hand forward, slicing across her middle. Hel let out a gasp as the material of her dark green dress ripped open, a line of blood appearing on her stomach. It quickly healed over, but Freya smirked at her.

“First blood to you.” acknowledged Hel through gritted teeth. “But I’ll still win this fight!” She thrust her hands forward, her full red lips parting as she shouted, “Ifrit Caress!” Like Lezard she had no need to say the full spell, choosing only to do so when she wanted to show off.

Freya shimmered and disappeared, the fire spell harmlessly evaporating where she had last floated. “I’m too fast for your spells.” boasted the Fertility Goddess. “I outclass you in every way. Give up and I’ll show mercy on you.”

“I’ve only just begun to fight. And as for your claims?” Hel let out a saucy laugh. “I’m sure there are a few areas I excel in where you have failed.” She smirked. “Ask Odin, I’m sure he could tell you a tale or two.”

Freya blanched, feeling a stab of pain in her heart. Hel saw her hesitation and struck forward, intending to rake her fingernails down the Goddess’ face. “Poison Blow!” At the last second Freya’s hands came up, wrists crossed over each other, blocking Hel’s nails. They scraped harmlessly off the metal of her bracelets, and Hel let out a shriek, finding she had broken a nail on the hard metal.

“You would do well to stop worrying about your appearance and start taking this fight more seriously!” advised Freya.

Staring at her broken nail, Hel’s eyes hardened. “So I shall!” Her nails elongated, growing into wicked looking daggers. “If my magic can’t touch you, I’ll pin you down another way!” She was suddenly on the move, in front of her rival, hands striking downwards again and again. Freya dodged, backing up, frantically moving from side to side as she stayed just out of reach of Hel’s nails. Suddenly pain flared in her cheek, and she saw an arc of blood before her eyes.

Hel wiggled her fingers, smirking at Freya, as she lifted one bloody claw to her lips. Her tongue snaked out, lapping up the Goddess’ blood, practically purring in satisfaction. “How sweet you taste…you will make a fine meal for my monsters!”

Growling in annoyance, Freya brushed the back of her hand across her cheek, the cut healing over as the blood was wiped away. She let out a wordless cry, and began teleporting from spot to spot in the sky, Hel unable to keep track of her. “Prepare to be cleansed!” Energy shimmered all around her, immense and hot, arcing down her arms to build up in the center of her hands. “Divine Assualt…” She aimed her palms at the Goddess, and screamed out with all her might. “Ether Strike!”

A large round globe of energy formed, hurtling it’s way towards the Hel Goddess’ back. Hel’s eyes widened, whirling around at the last second, taking the blast head on. Her screams of pain rang out through the green house, the Goddess dropping down to the ground with a thud. She moaned, seeing smoke rise up from her clothing.

“Hel!” She heard Odin’s voice nearby. “What say you and I switch partners?!” Panting, the Goddess was quick to agree, finding she was much better suited for a contest of magic than physical combat.

Lezard turned his back on Odin, loosing his interest in the Elder God the moment Odin stopped attacking him. His purple eyes went straight to Lenneth, and he smiled charmingly at her. “Come to me my beloved…” He held out a hand to her, beckoning her closer with every fiber of his being.

“No!” Lucian again.

“Your constant interference is beginning to annoy me.” Lezard said, anger radiating off of him. “Be gone!” He gestured and Lucian went flying.

“Invoke feather!” Mystina shouted, intending to cushion the boy’s fall.

“Lenneth…” Lezard again, his smoldering gaze boring into her slim figure. The Valkyrie stepped forward, entranced, hands reaching out to him. Lezard let out a dreamy sigh as her fingers found their way to his face, small hesitant touches that he leaned into. She grew confident, caressing him harder, blue eyes soft with wonder. “You make a beautiful God…” She told him, eyes going to his wings.

“Lenneth, what are you doing?” Lucian cried out weakly. “He betrayed you…took the apple for himself!” Mystina was bending down by Lucian, hovering her stave over his head. “Heal!” She whispered softly, eyes drawn to Lezard and Lenneth.

“I didn’t betray you…” Lezard was quick to say. “I did it for us…for you…to protect you…!”

“Lezard…” She was still looking at him as though she was bewitched, seeming to enjoy the feel of his cheek against her hand.

“You believe me don’t you Lenneth?” He asked hopefully.

“I…” She blinked, seeming to come free of the spell that had taken hold of her senses. “I don’t know what to think.” Lenneth was still touching him, sliding her hand down his neck and onto his shoulders. Her fingers brushed against the nubs of his wings, and he felt a tingle of pleasure roll through his body.

“Lenneth please…” He began, but Hel’s voice interjected, shrill and high. “You would be a fool to believe anything that comes out of his mouth!”

“What do you mean?!” demanded Lenneth, glaring at Hel from around Lezard’s body.

“Why it should be obvious, even to a simpleton like you!” Hel laughed. “Shall I tell her Lezard, or do you want to?”

“Tell me what?” asked Lenneth, eyes going back and forth between the two Gods. “Lezard, what is she talking about?”

“It’s nothing…” He said, giving her hands a quick squeeze. “It’s only a trick to sow distrust between us.”

“Oh it’s no trick…remember, I don’t lie when the truth can cut just as deeply.” Hel was smirking. “And believe me, nothing would give me more pleasure than to cut you down a few pegs!”

“Shut up!” Lezard was turning, bringing his hands forward. “Celestial Star!”

“Reflect Sorcery!” The spell clashed against Hel’s shield, bouncing back to Lezard. It crashed into his body, being absorbed, though he let out a surprise gasp. That had hurt!

“It’s painful to be hit with your own spell.” Hel said, more of her vicious laughter ringing out. “I’d be careful what you toss at me!”

“You’d be well aware to take your own advice.” muttered Lezard. “Reflect Sorcery!” His own personal magic shield came up, his eyes locking together with Hel’s. “Now what will you do?!”

“I wonder…” She tapped a fingernail against her lips. “Let us have a contest! See whose magic is stronger!”

“A fine idea!” Lezard agreed, confident he would win. “I should warn you I was the best in my class, valedictorian before an unfortunate expulsion.”

“I come with my own credentials.” Hel was quick to boast. “I’ve had millennia to perfect my spells!”

“Then perhaps you will survive this encounter with your legs intact.” A grim smile from Lezard.

“Pompous brat!” hissed Hel, throwing up her hands. “As if a whelp like you, newly Godded could ever hope to defeat me!” She pointed, tracing runes in the air. It glittered to life with a blazing hot light, forming an archaic symbol before her. “Calamity Blast!” The spell zinged out from the rune, smashing into Lezard’s shield, bouncing back onto Hel. She writhed in place, shrieking her head off at the pain.

“Your anger makes you forget key details.” Lezard sneered, though inwardly he was wincing. He had felt the force of her blow, even with his shield in place. It had made cracks in it’s very fiber, threatening to crumble. “Now it’s my turn!” He scripted a rune into the air, and shouted “Crystal Strike!”

“Fool! You mimic my mistakes!” snapped Hel, surprised to see Lezard smile at her.

“Think again.” Instead of aiming the spell at the Goddess, he directed at himself, the spell then rebounding off his shield and into Hel’s. She screamed again, and even as she screamed, Lezard was repeating his move. “Fire Lance!”

The three spears of fire crashed into Hel’s body, turning her skin black with soot. She coughed, choking on the smoke that forced it’s way into her mouth. “You little ingrate! After everything I’ve done for you!”

“What is she talking about?” Lenneth asked from behind him.

“It’s nothing!” insisted Lezard.

“Oh ho ho! You’re still determined to keep her in the dark…” Hel was brushing the soot off her clothes. “Is it because you know you’ll lose her?”

“Shut up!” said Lezard, his voice a vicious hiss.

“Lenneth do you want to know the truth behind your kidnapping?” Hel asked, smiling sinisterly. “I know you’re not the brightest person out there, but surely it has occurred to you to wonder how Lezard got the power to trap you in that pretty little shell you call a body!?”

“Don’t listen to her…” begged Lezard, whirling around to place his hands over Lenneth’s ears. The Valkyrie’s hands came up, grabbing at his wrists. She pulled on them, and he reluctantly moved away, fearing if they struggled he might accidentally crush her with his newfound strength.

“Lezard what…? What is it?” Lenneth had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Lezard wouldn’t meet her eyes, and his body was stiff with tension.

“Yes Lezard, what is it you seek to hide?” Lucian was approaching the pair, sword held limply at his side. “What could you possibly have done that is so bad you want to hide it from Lenneth?”

Silence from Lezard. “Tell me…” insisted Lenneth, going to touch his chin, tilting his face so that his eyes met hers. “It’ll be okay…”

“I fear that it won’t..” He whispered too softly for her to hear.

“You’ve stalled long enough!” Hel said, hands on her hips. “Lenneth, my dear…the person who gave Lezard the power to snatch you away from your safe home, from all your little friends was…”

“It was Hel!” He interrupted, the Goddess pouting as he ruined her big reveal. “I made a bargain with Hel!”

“No…” Lenneth’s hands dropped from his face, her blues eyes shining with pain. “It’s not true…”

“Oh but it is!” Hel laughed. “Lezard would never have had the power to capture you without a God lending their strength to his! Odin and I were only all too glad to give him some of our power.”

“You made a bargain with that devil?” Lenneth whispered, staring dully into Lezard’s eyes.

“Yes…” His gaze lowered, staring at the ground. “It was the only way I could have you…”

“Then all this time…you kept it from me, lied to me?!” Her voice was raising in anger. “You didn’t tell me even when Hel appeared at your tower. You let me think it was my fault she appeared there…let me think I cost you your home!”

“Lenneth I…”

“NO!!” Her hand was flying forward, to slap him across the face. Hel laughed in sheer delight. “No more lies!” She backed up from him, body trembling with barely suppressed rage. “It was you…everything was you…the wars in Valhalla…my lost Godhood, Odin’s return…it was all because of you…and your…your sick obsession with me!”

“I’m…I’m sorry…!” Lezard was reaching out to grab her.

“Don’t touch me!” Lenneth made sure to stay out of his reach. “Don’t ever lay your hands on me again!”

Lezard was making another grab for Lenneth, when Lucian jumped forward, his sword coming between the distraught girl and God. “You heard the lady, back off!” Lezard turned his head, and Lucian gulped at the malevolency he saw shining in those purple jewels Lezard called eyes. He bit down on his lip, forcing himself to keep his sword trained on Lezard. “I won’t let you have her.”

“Funny…” Lezard’s lips were a thin line of disapproval. “I was about to say the same thing to you!” He went to throw a punch at Lucian, and Mystina’s voice rang out. “If ye shall accept the benedictions of beauty, then yea! Let these chains of aster surround thee!”

“I’m getting sick of that spell!” Lezard tiredly announced as ice formed around his limbs.

“Absolute Zero!”

“Now’s my chance!” Hel shouted, and screamed out, “Ifrit’s Carress!”

“Fool!” raged Lezard, as the spell hit him, her flames melting away at the icy chains wrapped around his body. He flexed and broke free, turning to smile at Hel. “I owe you a debt of thanks in this regard.”

“Just one of many.” Lucian pointed out darkly.

“Lezard, you are unbelievable!” said Mystina, her voice sounding disgusted. “I knew you were desperate to get laid, but making a deal with the devil? That’s low even for you!”

“Mysty, no one wants your tired old opnions.” Lezard pointed at her. “Sap power!” The blonde mage screamed, slumping down to her knees. “My…my spells…my power…” She struggled to hold onto her energy, fighting tooth and nail to keep some ounce of magic trapped in her slender body.

“I should have known it would turn out this way…” whispered Lenneth, still staring at Lezard, horror on her pretty face.

“Lenneth no…if you will just let me explain…”

“I think you’ve done enough talking.” Lucian interjecting once again. Lezard didn’t even look at the warrior, just swatting him away with the back of his hand, as though he was a fly.

“Stay away from me!” Lenneth cried, and Lezard’s heart broke to hear the fear in her voice.

“I…I can’t…” He took a step forward, watching as she backed up.

“Can’t or won’t?!” Lenneth demanded, wanting him to make the distinction between the two actions. She let out a gasp as he was suddenly right in front of her, shimmering slightly from the act of teleportation. “No…don’t!” She was bringing her hands up to her face, trying to block his hands. His fingers gripped the back of her hair, one hand resting on her hip. “I’ll make you understand…” He whispered, and forced his mouth on hers.

Lenneth screamed into his mouth, squirming in his embrace, even as she fought not to give in to the kiss. Her emotions were at war within her heart, betrayal fighting desire, love and hatred side by side. She felt his hand sliding away from her hip, to be placed at her lower back. With a slight push she was plastered against his chest, and his hand dropped from her hair.

“Let me go…” She said tersely as he gripped her right arm.

“No.” He said simply, voice devoid of any emotion, any hint of what he was plotting. Lenneth’s eyes widened as the area around them began to shimmer from an intense heat, the people and surroundings blurring, becoming harder to see. Lenneth began thrashing about wildly, realizing his intent, even as she heard Lucian scream out her name. She turned in the direction of his voice, faintly she saw a blur that matched his coloring, running towards them, hand stretched out in desperation.

“Lucian!” Lenneth cried out, just before the world tilted upside down, causing her to cling to Lezard as she was lost to darkness.

“Lenneth…” Lucian slumped to his knees, sword dropping out of his hand, to clatter to the sandy ground. “No…” His fists slammed into the floor, and he let out a cry of pain, his injured hand flaring up.

“Well, now…that was quite entertaining…” Lucian turned his head, seeing Hel towering over him. Her breasts bounced as she laughed. “You mortals put on quite a show…” She smiled down at him. “But the time for such fun is over now…” Lucian scrambled for his sword, and Hel let him, smiling wickedly. “It won’t make a difference whatever you do…the odds are back in our favor now…you can’t possibly hope to win against two Gods, even with the Vanir bitch backing you up!” She saw Lucian’s eyes briefly flicker to the sky, searching out Freya and Odin’s battle. “Give up.” She continued. “And I promise your death will be painless.”

“Sorry…” Lucian sounding anything but. “I don’t give up…in love or in battle!”

“Oh well…” Hel gave a roll of her shoulders, shrugging. “Let it be said, I wasn’t anything but fair in offering you a quick death!” She grinned, a blood thirsty look in her eyes.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

For the first time in all of eternity, the halls of Valhalla were empty, neither God nor einherjar walking it’s scared grounds. The golden halls somehow seemed less beautiful without signs of life to fill it, empty and hollow. A chill wind blew throughout the buildings, whistling an ominous sign, the barest of sound to break up the quiet. The doors to the main hall of Valhalla were thrown open, wide and beckoning, just waiting for someone to step inside.

Outside all was still, as if nature itself was waiting to see what would happen next. It didn’t have to wait long, a rumble shaking the ground, dirt kicking up as it danced from the quake of an army approaching. Grass was trampled underfoot, flowers killed by uncaring fiends as they made their charge forward. Drums beat out in time to the march of feet, disturbing the quiet, and blood thirsty screams turned it nasty.

The army was grotesque, most mortals would have been driven mad at the sight of it, the monsters twisted and horrid. Cloaked wraiths led at the front, their brains being quick enough to command lesser demons. Zombies shuffled forward, their brains rotting and falling out of their skulls. Skeletons marched, shield and sword in hand, and yet more fiercesome creatures came.

They defied nature, beings that shouldn’t have been able to exist. Eyeballs on stalks shuffling forward, winged imps clutching jagged pitchforks flying wildly in the air. Pulsating, tentacled creatures squirmed forward, leaving a corroding trail of slime that burned all that it touched. And several large blue dragons brought up the rear. The army of Nifleheim had arrived in Asgard, and it was magnificent in it’s gruesome beauty.

“You were right…” Vidar said grimly, perched on top of the roof of Valhalla’s main building. “We would have been fools to leave Asgard unguarded.”

“Yes…” Hrist’s expression was unreadable. “Even though I had witnessed with my own eyes and ears Odin’s foul plot, it is still hard to believe he would just hand over our home to these beasts.”

“Odin will pay…I will see to it personally if need be…” If anyone but the Executioner of the Gods had been standing next to the black haired God, they would have shivered at the promise in his words. The God of Revenge was most creative in his self appointed task of meting out justice against those who wronged him and his followers.

“Odin would do well to watch his own back.” smiled Hrist.

“Are you ready?” asked Vidar, and at the Dark Valkyrie’s nod, he waved his hand over his head, a dark green arc of light that shot up into the sky. His power exploded into a dazzling array of fireworks, the monsters down below screaming in pain, shielding their eyes from the bright light. The air around the Nifleheim army shimmered, and where there had been nothing but open space, there now stood a moderate sized army, surrounding the undead fiends.

Similarly positioned on nearby buildings, stood a multitude of mages, concentrating their power. They had exhausted a lot of their strength to cloak the Aesir army, and now they endeavored to cast the illusion that there was more to it than was actually there, magic tripling the army in size. The dimwitted monsters looked around, confused as to what had happened. They couldn’t tell fact from fiction, and began attacking the army.

More magic from the mages, mixing reality with the deceit, causing some of the monsters to take on the appearance of the hated Aesir foe. Demons screamed as their allies attacked them, fighting breaking out among the monsters, trust being a precarious thing at best to the fiends. “It’s working!” Vidar exclaimed, his eyes lit up with satisfaction. “Hrist you’re a genius!”

She blinked, unused to compliments. “Let us not celebrate victory just yet…” She shook her head. “We’re still outnumbered, and the battle has only just begun. We must call back the rest of our forces.”

“I’ll send an emissary down at once.” Vidar said, intending on teleporting to the side of one of the mages.

“See that you do.” Hrist said, placing her fingers to her mouth. She let out a high pitched whistle, and Volsung leapt into the air, the stallion eagerly leaving his hiding place. The horse scented blood in the air, eager to do battle. He tossed back his head, nostrils snorting as he trotted to Hrist’s side, the Valkyrie taking hold of his mane. She swung up onto the stallion’s back, and concentrated, a divine lance appearing in her hand.

“Yah!” She bellowed, and the horse responded to her knee’s squeezing directions, galloping off of the roof. The Dark Valkyrie bounced in the saddle, lance held out to her right. Volsung lowered his head, steel horn spearing aside monsters as he ran, cutting a bloody swath through the center of the Nifleheim army. Hrist laughed wildly, her steed bearing down on one of the dragons. The beast opened it’s mouth to roar at her, displaying a full row of teeth. Foul breath wafted out, hot and putrid, causing a few of the nearby einherjar to stagger from the stench.

Hrist remained unaffected, and she let her voice ring out confident and clear. “Divine Assault!” She gripped her lance tightly, feeling her wings start to form. “Nibelung Valesti!” She hurled her lance at the dragon, and it whistled as it sailed through the air. The beast was preparing to let out it’s flames, when the divine lance speared it’s way into it’s open maw. It forcefully slid through it’s jaw, not slowing till it came to the back of the dragon’s throat. It struggled but did not stop, digging into the thick skin, forcing it’s way out through the back of the dragon’s neck.

The dragon let out a pained scream, it’s tail thrashing, knocking over both friend and foe alike, before it fell to the ground dead, soldiers scattering in it’s wake. “Your soul has been released!” Hrist was sliding off Volsung’s back, drawing the sword that was sheathed by her side. She gave the blade a twirl, and with a battle cry took off running into the heart of Nifleheim’s army.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-

Night had been slow to fall on Lassan, the sun taking it’s sweet time to set down behind the mountain range. The bright oranges and reds faded away, being replaced by a deep blue, and stars twinkled in the clear sky. The moon came out, half full and shining it’s rays down on the clearing of the forest, Brahms castle fading into existence piece by piece.

Spread out before it waited the army of Valhalla, camps set up and scattered out among the trees. Warm fires glowed, the einherjar sending glances towards the castle, some impatient, some nervous, wanting this battle to begin already. The vampires were also eager, standing ready at the threshold of the closed drawbridge. They could sense fresh blood, and what’s more they knew divine blood was to be had this very night. They eagerly licked their lips, thinking of the fine feast they would have.

Their leader was in his audience chamber, lost deep in thought. Brahm’s fingers drummed on the arm of his throne, the Vampire Lord gazing off into the distance. “And you say Hrist is nowhere to be found?”

“Yes my Lord.” Vestigan nodded his head. “Neither hide nor hair of Odin’s bitch has been spotted.” He laughed. “I think she is scared to face you.”

Brahms glared at his vampire minion, lips curling in distaste. “Do not speak of her like that. If there is one thing Hrist has earned, it is our respect for her fearlessness when it comes to facing us vampires.” He sighed. “It troubles me that she is not here.”

“Trouble my lord?” The magenta haired vampire was confused. “Why? It just means the fight will end all the more quickly.”

“Perhaps…” replied Brahms. He kept his thoughts to himself, wondering what Hrist plotted. The Dark Valkyrie was a tactical genius, able to turn the worst of odds into her favor. And while it was true that the last time they had faced each other he had won, it had only been through sheer luck, having obtained the help of three mortals. He doubted such help would come to his aid now.

“Lord Brahms?”

“Release the troops!” Brahms stood up. “Tell them…” He was quiet a moment, then smiled. “Tell them not to return until the very soil of my island turns red with the blood of our enemies!”

“At once!” Vestigan bowed, before turning and leaving the room.

“Is the day of reckoning at hand…?” Brahms mused, turning to face his throne. His eyes traveled upwards to the crystal that hung suspended behind it. He could make out the figure of Silmeria, the blonde Valkyie once again trapped in it’s icy prison. “Silmeria…” Brahms said wistfully. He raised his hand as though to touch her crystal, but at the last moment pulled back, curling his hand into a fist.