AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’s a berserker, I reasoned, curling my fingers into the fabric to conceal the fact that my hands had started to shake. He’s a wolf shifter from an ancient bloodline that traces back to the All-Father himself. No stinking giant is going to beat him.
But I couldn’t stop myself from worrying. What did I really know about his world? Yes, he seemed tough to me, but I was a witch. An uneducated witch, at that. Any non-human would fare better in a fight than I would. I didn’t know how time passed in Muspelheim. Maybe it ran parallel to Midgard. Or maybe we were dealing with a Narnia-style situation, and he’d come winking back into existence seconds from now, claiming he’d been gone for months. Or, and I didn’t want to think of it, maybe time moved faster there. I just didn’t know, and the uncertainty was killing me. Torsten only had until sunset to return from the realm of fire or else he would be trapped there forever.
“What if he didn’t make it?” I asked Skarde, Torsten’s brother. “What if he just burned during the ritual and he never got to Muspelheim?”
The large Viking loomed nearby, seeming as uncomfortable as I was after Fyrcat’s ritual. He crossed his impossibly thick arms over his massive chest, face scrunching into a grimace. Knowing Skarde, it was probably his attempt to look thoughtful. Then again, I didn’t know much about Skarde either. He was just as much a mystery to me as the world he came from.
“My kind believes that all witches are vile creatures that feed off the torment of others,” Skarde replied. “And Fyrcat is far worse than any ordinary witch. Her dabbling in death magic makes her far less trustworthy…”
“So, you’re saying we shouldn’t trust her?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders. “We don’t have much choice, do we? I never thought it would come to this. Putting our fate into the hands of a witch. Unbelievable…”
The way Skarde sneered the word ‘witch’ made my stomach turn with fresh nausea. He couldn’t be bothered to conceal just how much contempt he had for those like me. I cursed myself for feeling even an inkling of attraction toward him. I’d already been in a relationship with a man who looked down on me. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I had Torsten, and that was what mattered.
Or at least, I hoped I still had Torsten. Maybe the dusting of ash on my boots was all that was left of him.
“Is there any way for us to go after him?” I asked quietly. “Maybe one of us could go in and yank him out of there.”
Skarde shook his head. “I do not know the first thing about that sort of ritual.”
“Do you know if time is passing the same way in Muspelheim as it is here?”
His scowl deepened. “What do I look like, a damned Völva? It’s not usually our place to travel between the branches of the World Tree. If you want answers, ask the seeress.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes, accidentally smearing black soot on my face. “I wish there was a way to leave her out of this. She’s already doing so much.”
“For her own gain,” he muttered. “A witch like that doesn’t deal in altruism.”
I studied my reflection in a shiny disc laying on one of the tables so he wouldn’t see the flinching around my eyes. Did he understand how his words landed? Did he care? And why did I care what he thought? He was Torsten’s brother, not my boyfriend. We didn’t have to get along to care about Torsten. We were on the same side.
The silence stretched, and Skarde let out a long-suffering sigh.
“She should be awake now,” he grumbled, then he looked at me. “Follow me. Don’t trip into an elixir while you’re at it. I won’t be able to turn you back from whatever abomination you transform into.”
Skarde led me down the short corridor and knocked on Fyrcat’s door. It was glowing faintly, which I took to mean it was locked. Or warded. Or something equally as magical. He looked me up and down as we waited. I shifted self-consciously beneath his scrutiny. What did he see when he looked at me? A witch? Torsten’s mate? Was I an enemy or ally in his mind?
There was a muffled sound from behind the door, like someone muttering under their breath, before Fyrcat finally called, “Come in.”
When the door pushed open, my eyes didn’t know where to settle. To call the place cluttered was an understatement. The bed in one corner was in danger of being buried by a towering stack of books. Armchairs and settees were arranged without much regard for walking room, and candles decorated almost every nightstand. A few glass globes were suspended from the ceiling, dangling at head height. Skarde actually bumped into one before he could stop himself. I had to fight an irrational urge to giggle when his hand flew to the hilt of his sword, ready to do battle with the bulbous plant growing within.
Fyrcat was lounging on a settee like some sort of lazy feline. She twirled a tendril of hair around her finger, examining a flickering candle flame, rather than looking at us. It was as if she was bored with our company already. Her nonchalance pissed me off. How could she just casually burn a man alive, and then lounge around in her bedroom as if nothing had happened?
“I need answers,” I snapped.
“You’ll have to ask a question first, dear,” she said, offering me a lazy smile to match the indolent posture.
Heat flushed across my chest, and I chewed my tongue to keep from shouting at her. What she said was technically true, but the delivery just dripped of condescension. Maybe Skarde was right to dislike her.
“How does time pass in Muspelheim? When should we expect him back?”
Fyrcat twined the lock of hair more slowly, biting her lip. “It’s hard to say. Muspelheim burns slowly, so it could take him months to find the dwarf. Years, if he’s unlucky. The time between realms is difficult to calculate, and I haven’t the energy for such trifles.”
“Trifles?” I repeated, the heat spreading up into my neck. I wasn’t sure how this magic stuff worked yet, but if Fyrcat wasn’t careful, she was going to be my first lesson. “We’re trying to free him from slavery, so he can help us stop this damned war. That’s not a trifle.”
“There were easier ways,” she countered. “Binding him as your companion, for example. He’d be beholden to you, but you would be an improvement over his current circumstance, I think.”
“What if he… what if Torsten dies in there?”
