COF 10

 Off the coast of the plains of Lassan there is an island. It is of moderate size, more than adequate to host a a thriving city, and is separated from the main land by a thin strip of water. And yet this was a patch of land where few if any would dare tread. It would seem a perfectly ordinary land, extending for miles in four directions, ripe and fertile for the taking. The soil fresh and perfect for farming, the lake filled with pure, crystal clear water, and dense foliage from the many fruit trees that grew in the forests dotting the island. But no one came to farm, no fish were lured from the lake, and no one ever dared pick the fruit from those trees.

In the beginning, a few tried of course. They came from all over, hoping to eek out a new life on this land, create a new town in this spot. But strange things began occurring…the dogs they had brought with them began howling every night, even beating them could not quiet their voices. People began acting strangely, walking around half asleep, some even downright vanishing into the night never to be heard from again. And then there was the matter of the trees…at night they seemed to grow, their limbs turning gnarled and twisted, their stumps widening, the wood crowding against each other, encroaching on the land of the humans, directing them ever inwards into the woods. They had little choice but to continue deeper into the forest, their axe blades dull against the bark.

But when the sun rose, everything seemed back to normal, the trees harmless, the dogs quiet. And still they did not try to leave, urged on by their sleepy eyed compatriots to remain though their every instinct cried out for them to leave. It was not known what eventually became of the settlers, though a few managed to escape from the cursed land, returning to town with incredible stories, and wild looks in their eyes. One thing they all agreed on was a castle existed in the middle of a forest, a grand building of stone and mortar, that stood ominously in the darkness.

Of course no one could ever prove the existence of this castle. The search parties that were sent out, often didn’t return. And those few stragglers that did make it back were deemed insane from the experience. Scholars from around the world came to study this castle from afar. Telescopes were set up, and try as they might, no one was able to pinpoint it’s location. At least not during the day, when the sun was high in the sky, it’s natural light alighting on the green canopy of the forest. Nothing could be made out at night, even the moon did not shine on this forest.

It was a mystery, one easily solved if you already knew the answer. When the sun was out, bright and bulbous, it’s protective rays shining down on the forest, the castle simply did not exist. It shifted into another realm where time and space could not touch it, carried aloft on invisible wings that carted it to and fro in the ever after. However, when the sun set, the castle returned, shifting it’s power onto the forest, twisting it into it’s true nature. The land became that of the undead, ruinous and evil, eager to assist the vampire’s quest to destroy mankind.

In it’s own way, it was a fail-safe, providing safe daylight harbor to those who came seeking shelter at it’s doors. At night, a gathering place, where plans could be plotted, orders given and obeyed, and bloody feasts could be enjoyed. But for one inhabitant, it was merely a prison. Suspended in mid air, floating behind the throne of the Vampire Lord, was an immense crystal, brilliant blue and as tall as a human. Contained inside was what looked to be a mere wisp of a girl, but the empty sword sheathe that hung limply by her side bade all who watch to be wary for this tigress had claws. She lay upright, her blonde hair floating around her, caught and frozen in place. A feathered helm covered her head, tinged silver and blue to match the armor she wore. She was beautiful, innocence frozen in time.

The room needed no other ornament, for she outshone them all. And yet…it hurt the vampire to look at her long, his long thought dead heart aching to see her like this. Every night he crawled out of his bed to come see her, making her his number one priority.

“Silmeria…” The dark haired Lord whispered, stroking the glass with his hand almost lovingly. “Return to me…” He ordered, his eyes glowing red in the darkness of the room. The crystal seemed to melt under his fingers, his hands sinking into it. He concentrated, the glass turning to watery sand, sucking him in up to his elbows, until he was able to touch her, his hands roughly grasping hold of her arms. He gave a tug, and her body resisted, wanting to stay in that place. He let out a growl of impatience, a hint of fang appearing against his lips.

He gave a mighty flexing of his muscles and pulled, the crystal whining in protest as his hands emerged, the girl clutched between them. Her chest inhaled, and she let out a shaky breath, taking in huge gulps of air. Still he pulled, gathering her to his chest as best he could, the crystal sticking to her like quicksand, wanting to suck her back in to it’s icy depths.

Her eyes opened, and they were baby blue. “Brahms…” Her lips formed his name, but no sound came, she unused to having a voice to speak with. He shifted an arm around her waist, jostling her slightly as her legs came free. He stumbled backwards with her held gently in his arms, catching his footing at the last minute. “It’s getting harder and harder to remove you from that crystal.” He noted gravely, his magic growing weaker. He stared down at the tiny girl he had in his arms, the petite blonde with the hair that fell in waves down to her waist. She was beautiful, and he thought that he could love her if she let him.

Silmeria licked her lips, trying to get her voice to work again. “Brahms..”

“Here…” He carried her over to the throne, and set her down, reaching for a jug. He poured out a goblet of red wine, which she reluctantly took from him. He watched as her throat worked it down, staring at that smooth skin of the side of her neck, the tempting vein that beat out a tantalizing rhythm that he alone could hear.

“Why did you free me…?” She asked hoarsely, making a face at the bitter taste of the wine.

“You know why.” He told her, and she sighed.

“Brahms, I already told you…” He put a large finger against her lips, bidding her be quiet. “Please, not yet…not now…”

She looked away from him, her eyes big and sad. She took in the throne room, it’s former splendor now gone, with over turned and broken furniture lying in pieces on the floor. Cobwebs decorated the corners, and tapestries, once rich and vibrant with colors, now a faded mess, their pictures of violence and gore shredded by claws, and hanging half off the walls. There were three small windows on the South wall, facing towards the castle’s moat. She stood and walked towards one, eager to see the outside world. She knew what she would find, and yet she couldn’t help the wistful sigh that escaped her mouth. How she wished she could lay her eyes on the sun once more, yearning to feel it’s warmth on her naked arms, as she danced on Asgard hill, listening to the melodious sounds of Ull’s flute playing. How long had it been since she had once walked upon Midgard a free woman, picking souls and fighting battles? Centuries, at least. Now she spent her days and most nights, trapped, a bird in a gilded cage, decorating Brahms destroyed throne room.

“The night is beautiful, although it pales in reflection to you.” Brahms came up behind her, holding himself stiff and formal as he leaned in to inhale her scent. It tantalized him, smelling of springtime and flowers, of all the things he had left behind when he became that of the undead. Even her hair reminded him of the forgotten sun, and he touched it now, letting it spill through his fingers as though it was water.

SIlmeria turned, her hair whirling around her body. “Thank you.” She said this without emotion, as though he had not just paid her a great compliment.

“Silmeria…” He reached out to her, but she danced out of reach. He frowned at her, not liking that she kept her distance from him.

“What news do you have of my sisters?” She asked, not daring to hope.

“They have not come for you if that is what you are asking.” He smirked at her. “Nor have there been any talks between us.”

“Oh…” She said this dully, and lowered her eyes to the floor.

“It’s been months since Lenneth took the throne. More than enough time to send a rescue party. Surely they have forgotten about you.” He shrugged unconcerned. “That they no longer care for you…love you…not like I do…”

“Stop it!” She cried, her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”

“Truth cuts quick to the heart, and isn’t always pretty.” But she ignored him, turning longing eyes to the outside once again.

“I could take you outside…” He suggested, noting how her heart leaped at the suggestion. “If you would just agree to my…requests.”

“You’re demands you mean.” She corrected him with a hiss.

“Call it what you like…they’re reasonable.”

“Reasonable?! You call holding me hostage reasonable?” Silmeria demanded angrily. “Placing me back inside that crystal whenever I refuse you?!”

“I’d call it incentive.” Brahms said, unmoved by her anger.

“It’s cruel.” She told him. “I wish…I wish you had never taken me out in the first place. Better to stay there, in that prison unmoving and unfeeling, than to have my freedom dangled before me, than snatched back. I can’t stand it! I can’t stand this mean game you play with me!”

“Calm yourself Silmeria.” His tone held a warning to it. Her face looked ready to crumple into tears, and she stared at him, eyes icy and cold as she glared at him through a haze of tears. “Damn you…” She whispered. “Damn you!” She said louder, and lunged at him, her hands clenching into fists. She took a swipe at him, and he easily dodged her punches. She lifted up her leg, lashing out to kick him, and he held his arms up before him in a cross pattern, her foot rebounding off his wrist. She went to punch him again, and gasped as he disappeared before her eyes.

She let out a scream as he grabbed her from behind, holding onto her hands, pushing her down to the ground. She screamed and howled with rage, struggling against his embrace, being held on her knees. Brahms restrained her, listening to her angry cries, letting her feel the strength of him, how easily he restrained her without the slightest of effort, letting her calm herself as she realized it was pointless to resist. And still she did not cry, the valkyrie maiden too proud to let her tears fall in front of her foe.

“I just want to go home…” She whispered, falling still in his arms.

“That isn’t an option.” He told her. “However…you can make a new home…a better home…”

“With you, you mean…” She said bitterly.

“Yes.” He said, planting a kiss in her hair.

“No!” Silmeria cried, shaking her head. He released her immediately, and she quickly got to her feet eyeing him warily.

“So that’s your answer then?” He asked with a sigh.

“You already knew it would be that before you took me out of my crystal.” Silmeria said sadly.

“SIlmeria…why do you torment me so?” Brahms asked, his eyes heavy with sadness. “I would make you happy, if only you agreed to be mine.”

“My sisters will come for me.” She said stubbornly.

“It’s foolish to keep hoping that!” He roared at her.

“Maybe…maybe not.” She sighed, looking at the empty crystal. He looked too, and shook his head. “Not yet…the night is still young…and the days grow longer between the times I am able to do the spell. I would not part from your company so soon this eve.” He held out his hand to her.

“…all right then.” She agreed, taking hold of his hand. It wasn’t as though she had any choice in the matter…

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

What was time? A counting out of the day’s events? A way to measure the passing of the sun? A limit mortals put on their own lives? All that and more? To the Gods time meant nothing at all, a curiosity of Midgard they adopted into their own lives, a convenient way to mark off important events. A day was nothing to a God, as short as a mere blinking of the eyes when all of the cosmos stretched out before them, past and future immeasurably long.

Time…it takes on a new meaning when you are mortal. As a human, she was aware of it, it danced upon her consciences whenever she was left all alone. It pressed in on her, suffocatingly close, reminding her that as a mortal she was in the unique position of having both too little and too much time on her hands. Lenneth would almost laugh at that, the thoughts contradicting themselves. But it was true. She was far too aware of the fact her life span was limited in this new body of hers. And yet, she was bored, having nothing to do but pace when Lezard excused himself from the room. Slowly she became aware of the fact that she was not only growing used to his presence, but looking forward to it. Their talks a break in the monotony of her day.

She frowned, hating how isolated she was. It fostered a need for contact with a person, any person, to hear their voice, to feel their warmth. It made her crave touch and laughter in a way she had never before experienced. Lenneth missed other things as well. The simple task of leaving a room when she chose to. Of going outside, of choosing her own clothes she thought, catching sight of her reflection. She was clad in a floor length violet dress, a darker purple top fitting over it. It fell to mid thigh on her, and two buttons held it closed under her breasts, open enough to show off the lacy material of the under dress. The sleeves were long and flimsy, the wrists spilling open wide and loose. Some time after Lezard had made his exit, his minion Zephyr had come to her, bringing breakfast and a change of clothes. Lenneth had accepted both gratefully, fighting back a twinge of disappointment at seeing the hulking brute of a homunculus instead of his master on her doorstep.

She paced back and forth across the room, wandering aimlessly across the floor. Occasionally she stopped at the window, gripping the bars tightly. Standing on tip toe, Lenneth peered out, seeing the forest stretch on for miles as far as her eyes could see. She sighed, frustration and boredom resonating in the sound. She knew if she had her Godly strength these bars would pose no trouble for her, she’d just snap them off. But now, even tugging with all her might didn’t budge them. And even if she could get them off, where would she go? She had no wings to take flight from this window.

With a muttered curse she resumed her pacing, looking around the room for the hundredth time. Nothing had changed, and yet she gazed about, hoping to spot something she had missed the first few times. She strode over to the closet, throwing wide open the doors. Lenneth jabbed hanger after hanger aside, deeming the necromancer’s clothes as unimportant. He favored the same style and colors, having identical copies of whole outfits. Her fingers caressed canvas, and she gripped it, pulling it out expectantly. It was a painting…done in charcoal, an expertly done rendition of her face. She stared at it quietly, fingers tracing over the smile on her lips. The sound of the door unlocking caused her to hastily jam the portrait back into the closet, door slamming close. She hurried away, to stand by the bed as nonchalantly as she could manage, when Lezard entered the room.

He greeted her with a smile on his face, clad in a midnight blue velvet jacket, and matching pants. She studied his face, seeing his purple eyes sparkling with excitement. One hand remained behind his back, clearly hiding something from her. “Good afternoon Lady Lenneth.”

“Lezard…” She acknowledged his greeting with a slight dip of her head.

“I have something to share with you…” He told her, stepping nearer. “A surprise.”

She blinked. “A surprise? For me?” He practically vibrated with emotion, so pleased with himself was Lezard. “I…I don’t want it.”

“Come now Lady Valkyrie…” He remained smiling, a teasing edge in his voice. “I’m sure you don’t mean that.” He was right, she wasn’t sure. But she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking. “It’s guaranteed to put a smile on that lovely face of yours.”

Curiosity was working away at her, but still she remained silent.

He sighed then, her stubborn act at remaining disinterested annoying him. He reached out to grab hold of her wrist. “I’m going to show it to you anyway.” He announced, trying not to sound put off by her silence. He took notice of her dress, eyeing the jacket. “Good, you’re dressed warmly. It’s chilly where we’re going.”

“What?” This startled her into talking. “We’re going somewhere? Where…” She didn’t resist as he pulled her to him, his hidden hand quickly coming up to rest on her hip, molding her against his body. She shifted, trying to see his hand, and caught sight of a length of black silk clutched in his fingers. She looked at it with suspicion.

“Merely part of the surprise.” He hastened to assure her.

“Right…” She said doubtfully.

If you would allow me to…”

“To what?” She interrupted Lezard, staring at him with unease in her blue eyes.

“It’s merely a blindfold.” He explained. “To further build up the anticipation.”

“I think I have all the suspense I can take.” Lenneth replied wryly.

“Please…” He said, a hint of begging in his voice. “Just humor me…indulge this whim, fair lady.”

She pursed her lips, trying to keep a frown off her face but failing. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this…but all right…”

Lezard smiled widely, “You won’t regret this!” He told her, giving her hand a small squeeze.

“I better not.” She said in warning as his hands came up near her face. The silk was held loosely between his hands, the dark material looming ever closer to her eyes. The cold silk touched her skin, soft and smooth, sliding into place as he tied it about her face, his hands working it into a knot behind her head. She felt him smoothing down her hair, hands coming to rest on her shoulders. Lezard stared at her face, her head tilted up towards his, almost trustingly as she stood there blindfolded. He had to fight to resist the urge to kiss her, not wanting to risk angering her just now. Instead he slid his hands down her arms, a slow caress that ended when he took hold of her wrists. “Hang on tightly now…” He advised her, placing her arms around his chest.

Slipping one hand around her waist, he flung out his right arm, fingers flexing, making shapes with his hand as he began chanting in an alien language. “What are you doing?” Lenneth asked nervously, hearing ringing in her ears. She couldn’t see the light flare up around them, washing over them in blue shadows, circling ever closer around them. Disoriented, her stomach wrenched as she felt her body pulled, tugged and pushed through the air, and she stifled a cry, digging her nails into Lezard’s shoulders. The ground seemed to fade away under her feet, if only for a second, before firm stone appeared in place of the carpeting. She stumbled, her shoes catching on the ground. Only Lezard’s arms kept her upright, and Lenneth leaned against him for support.

“First time teleportation is always a jarring experience.” She heard Lezard say, feeling him slowly spin her around. “The blindfold helps minimize the sensations that can occur. But really I wanted your first sight to be this…” His fingers unwound the knot, the blindfold slipping down her face. She blinked, her eyes taking a moment to adjust from darkness to light, but when she could see she let out an appreciative gasp. They were on top of his tower, a spot she remembered well due to the grief her einherjar Lorenta had experienced here. But back then it had been night, and she had been in no mood to appreciate the view.

All of Midgard was laid out before them, with the setting sun as backdrop, a wash of dark hues of orange and gold, with a hint of purple mixing in across the rapidly darkening sky. Lenneth stepped away from Lezard, going towards the roof’s edge, peering out. She could hear the sound of windmills from her room, and from this vantage point she could see them, three of them attached to the tower’s turrets, generating power for what she did not know. His spells she supposed. Nearby the town of Flenceburg was visible, magical lights powering on as the inhabitants prepared for the coming night.

Lenneth felt the wind pull at her hair, her dress moving about her legs in the breeze, and she closed her eyes enjoying the feel. For a second she could almost imagine being up in the air, of the times she had floated over Midgard, surveying the land for souls. This view very much like the one she had enjoyed back then. She felt a smile on her face, and she gave in to it, a dazzling expanse of white teeth as she inhaled the fresh air deeply. “The view…It’s beautiful.”

“Yes…it is…” Lezard agreed. She turned her head, and found him watching her closely, and flushed. The way he looked at her, she knew he wasn’t thinking of Midgard when he agreed on beauty. “I thought a change of scenery would be good for you.” He said this casually. “Even I on occasion get bored of being in that stuffy tower all day long.”

At least you have a choice. She kept this thought silent. Instead she gave him her thanks, truly glad to be outside for once.

“I had Zephyr set us up a meal.” He added, gesturing towards the center of the roof. She turned to follow where he pointed, and saw a blanket spread out, with covered plates and silverware laying across it’s surface. “I am not much of a cook, but almost anything is better than what the homunculus attempts to make.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She said, settling her legs underneath herself on the blanket. Lezard sat down next to her, uncovering the plates, revealing a modest but impressive feast of meats, vegetables, and cake.

“I don’t suppose you cook?” He asked by way of small talk.

She considered this, at last shaking her head no. “No, I don’t believe I do. I’ve never had reason to try. Why?”

“Ah no matter.” Lezard shrugged his shoulders. He poured himself a glass of wine, and offered it to her. She took it from him, sipping cautiously at the bright red liquid. It had a tantalizing taste, sweet with the hint of berries to it, which disguised the bitter taste of the alcohol. She found she liked this drink, and held out her cup, wanting more. “This taste…it’s almost as good as ambrosia!” She exclaimed, savoring the liquid on her tongue. She sighed happily, a warm flush in her cheeks.

“Ah ambrosia…the food of the Gods.” His lips quirked into a smile. “Surely you exaggerate my lady. Mortal food cannot compare to that of the divine.”

“It’s close enough.” She told him, taking another sip from her glass.

“I find when one is hungry enough, just about anything tastes good.” said Lezard. “I think we need to work on expanding your tastes, cultivate your culinary experience to something more than the simple meals I am capable of.”

“I’d like that.” She said, but her eyes darkened with sadness for a second. She lowered her face, trying to hide her expression from him. He saw and sighed, placing his fork down. “What now Lenneth…?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” Lenneth said, shaking her head. He accepted her words, not pressing her any further. “Did you have any favorite foods up in Vahalla…? Apples perhaps?”

“Apples? What would make you ask that?” She asked, giving him a puzzled look.

“You talk in your sleep.” He replied with a small laugh. “You seemed really obsessed with apples, Idun’s in particular.”

She stiffened then, and said faintly. “Oh…really…?”

“Yes, really.” Her reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed by Lezard. “Care to tell me what the fascination is for a simple curative?”

She paused, gulping down the rest of her drink. “It’s nothing. I don’t even know why I could have mentioned apples once, let alone several times.”

“Most have been some dream.” He said doubtfully.

“Yes…a dream…” Lenneth sighed, fiddling with her cup. “I didn’t mention anything else did I?”

“Oh, nothing that important.” He said, thinking of her one sided conversation with Lucian. “Just some tidbits about the other Aesir. They really ran you ragged up there.”

“Being the All Mother is an important job…” She replied, holding out her cup for more wine. He refilled it thinking to loosen her lips with the alchoholic content in the wine.

“I don’t doubt that.” Lezard said. “What will happen with you gone?”

“I don’t know…” She whispered sadly, looking morosely at her cup. “They’ll probably replace me.” She let out a bitter sounding laugh. “Freya will be angry at having to train someone all over again. She’s an old hand at working with the Lord Creator.” She rubbed at her eyes with her free hand, feeling tired and sad. It depressed her to think about her old life, think about what she had lost and might never regain.

“They’d be fools to try.” Lezard said, and she looked questioningly at him. “Replacing you, that is. As if anyone could ever equal your measure.”

“Oh…” She said faintly, embarrassed. “I don’t think I was particularly impressive at the job. I still had a great many things to learn.”

“Better than Odin at least.” said one who was extremely biased when it came to this particular Goddess.

“I hope so.”

“I have something else for you Lenneth.” Lezard reached into his pocket. “I was planning to give it to you later, but I sense you could use the pick me up.”

“More surprises?” She asked, setting down her goblet on the blanket.

“Just one more…a gift to you…” He pulled out his hand, a necklace clutched in his fist. Her eyes widened in appreciation as he held it up before her face, a generous sized lapis lazuli jewel dangling before her. It hung on a silver chain, and the blue of the jewel offset the color of her eyes quite nicely. “It’s gorgeous…” She breathed, reaching out to touch it. She hesitated though. “I can’t accept it though…it must have cost a fortune!”

“Keep it.” He said, rising to his feet. He moved to stand behind her, bending down so as to place the necklace round her neck. She touched the jewel then, a shot of static electricity emanating from it’s center. “I have many such trinkets. Plus it will keep you safe…”

“Safe from what?” She wondered.

“From monsters, demons that sort of thing.” Lezard said, not committing to a full answer. “I’m also thinking of working a spell into the jewel. One that would allow you to roam my home freely…a spell that would bar you from entering the more dangerous parts of my tower.”

“I would love that.” She said, still fingering her new necklace.

“Good, then perhaps tomorrow we can work on that.” He smiled at Lenneth. “It looks lovely on you.”

“Thank you.”

“We should eat…the food is getting cold.”

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

It had been late when the meeting at Gladsheim had finally come to an end. Sol’s chariot beginning it’s final run across the sky, a slow leisurely pace that would invoke the setting sun and usher in Nott’s cue to bring about night. It was still day enough to see by, although with their far superior eyesight, the Aesir would be able to catch details by torch light just as well as when the sun was at it’s highest peak in the sky. No matter the lighting, the blast sight was hard to miss, the ground charred and ruined, Ull dropping to his knees upon seeing it.

“So this is soul transference?” Thor said, stroking his beard as he stared at the ground. “Hard to believe anything could survive this much power.” It made the God ill at ease to see such devastation so close to the sacred World Tree.

“This is the sovereign’s rite gone wrong.” Ull said. The youth stayed crouched on the ground, dirtying his hands as he gripped handfuls of soil. “This is an abomination!”

“Yes.” agreed Freya, with a sidelong glance at the tree. Lucian was there again, leaning against the base of Yggdrasil, arms crossed over his chest as he stared sullenly at the scorched ground. He had circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and his skin looked paler than usual. He barely acknowledge the inspection party, aside from a brief wave when they had arrived.

“It is much like in Dipan.” Ull said, throwing free the dirt. “You can see the pattern on the ground is exactly the same.”

“Isn’t that odd?” asked Thor. “To mimic one another exactly…surely there would be some discrepancies.”

“I am not the one to ask. Only Odin could tell you for sure…” Ull shrugged helplessly, getting to his feet.

Thor sighed. “This is grave news indeed.”

“She would have been standing right here when it hit her…” Ull’s footsteps crunched on the ground as he walked across the charred remains of grass, calmly standing in the centerpiece of untouched ground. “The pattern would mark where the cage of air solidified, trapping her among the ice carved runes.”

“Ice?” questioned Freya. “I thought fire did this.”

“A common misconception.” Ull retorted. “It would be ice, but not like that which you are used to. Ice so cold it burns at the touch. A coldness that sucks away at all heat in the air, storing it in it’s core, ruining the ground beneath it. I have heard tales that the realm of the Frost Giants in Nifleheim is very much cold like that.”

Freya felt a shiver shake her body, imagining what it would feel like to experience that coldness. She looked at Lucian again, a pitiful sight, sad and forlorn as he stood there eavesdropping on the God’s conversation. With a sigh she excused herself from her companions, and took to the air. Thor and Ull watched her for a second, before resuming their conversation.

“Lucian…what are you doing here?” Freya asked, coming to touch down by the man’s side. He shrugged, unsure of himself. “I had nothing else to do..training is over for the day.”

“Oh…” She looked at him, seeing his disheveled appearance. “You look tired. Have you been sleeping at all these past few days?”

He shrugged again. “I manage to get some sleep…an hour or so a day.” Lucian let out a sigh. “It’s like my mind refuses to shut down, not until I know for sure she’s out there, and safe.”

“I could speak to Eir for you…get her to make you a sleeping draught.” suggested Freya.

“No!” He shook his head, and repeated more softly. “No. Thank you…but no…I’ll be fine on my own.”

“But it isn’t healthy for you to continue like this…plus…you won’t be in any condition to help Lenneth if you’re falling asleep in the midst of a battle.”

“I’ll be fine.” Lucian insisted.

“Will you really?” She asked.

“Why do you care?” He demanded. “I’m just a stupid mortal in love with your boss. What do you care what happens to me?”

Freya looked away from him, considering her words. “…I don’t.” She said at last. “But…I know Lenneth does. She’d be very cross with us if we let something happen to you.”

Lucian let out a humorless laugh at that. “Gee…for a second I almost thought you cared.”

Her cheeks flamed, and she angrily retorted. “Me? Care about a mortal?! Get real!” She glared at him. “Honestly! The very thought makes my skin crawl!”

“Right…”

“It does!” She insisted.

“Okay, I believe you.” He held up his hands in defeat. “Has Ull any theories on the hole in the ground?”

Confusion was in the Goddess’ eyes. “What hole?”

“You mean you haven’t seen it yet?” He grabbed at her wrist, and she fought her reaction to pull away as he tugged on it, urging her to follow him. Walking hand in hand, Lucian led her a small distance away from the blast site. “It’s probably nothing.” He added, stopping next to a small hole in the ground. “The ground even seems to be healing itself, unlike that mess over there.” He nodded at the two male Aesir, who were watching them curiously. Embarrassed Freya pulled her hand free of Lucian’s, and peered at the soil.

“What is it?” She asked, leaning down, her golden hair brushing against Lucian’s face. His nose twitched, and he swept it away from his face.

“I think it’s an imprint from a fist…”

“Is that all?” She said disappointed.

“Lenneth’s fist.” He said, placing his hand against the hole. It was much larger than the imprint in the soil.

Freya straightened up. “I don’t think this is important. We already know she was here…”

“But this could prove she wasn’t taken by surprise…that she put up a fight first.” Lucian sighed. “I thought it was something…I need it to mean something…”

“Lucian…” Suddenly the Goddess let out a strangled gasp, whatever she was to say lost in the cry. She stumbled forward, falling to her knees, a surprised Lucian wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her upright. “I’m…I’m okay…” She whispered, putting her hands against his chest, pushing out of his embrace. “The energy just took me by surprise…”

“Freya?!” Ull and Thor hurried towards the pair, weapons in hand. Ull had an arrow notched on his bowstring, scouting the darkness for an unseen threat.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing…it…” She shook her head, a bemused smile on her face. “No…nothing doesn’t begin to describe it.” Her body glowed with a golden light, and she stood tall and sure of herself. Her eyes came alive with excitement. “This presence…this energy…it’s her…” Her words held wonder to them.

“What?” asked Thor, staring at the Goddess in surprise.

“Anyone care to explain what is going on?” asked a bemused Lucian.

“It’s like a light switch coming on…the emptiness has been filled…”

“You’re babbling…” commented Lucian.

“Shhhh!” hissed Ull. “Something has changed.” He glanced up, as though looking to the sky for a response. “Asgard itself vibrates with the power.”

“And that would mean what in mortal terms?” demanded Lucian.

Freya shushed them, urging them to be quiet. She held her hands out before her, and concentrated, lifting up into the air. A dazzling smile appeared on her face, making her radiant in her happiness. “I sense her!” She said ecstatic. “I sense Lenneth!”

“WHAT?!” Lucian stumbled to his feet, reaching to grab hold of Freya. Thor grabbed him by the arms, a stern look on his face as he advised him to not be so quick to place his hands on the Fertility Goddess.

“Lucian…she’s back!” Freya wanted to giggle like a school girl, so giddy with relief was she. “The Lord Creator is back!”