Sword of Light Read online

  “Yeah,” I sighed, but I didn’t really believe it. Even with the arrival of some of the heroes I’d trained with in Iceland, we seemed outnumbered and the only leverage we had against Ninurta was his spear. And this bastard had kidnapped and beaten my father and invaded our home, making this war intensely personal for me. It was no longer just about saving the world, but maybe it had never only been about saving the world. Maybe it had always been about an old score between the Sumerians and me.

  Keira’s hand was on the door handle when I stopped her and asked to speak to her alone. Behind us, car doors slammed as Yngvarr and the heroes waited for the rest of us to shut up and join them. I thought they could be waiting a while.

  But Agnes and Tyr spilled out of the car, and Keira shot me an expectant look as if reminding me I kinda needed to make this quick. “I’ve been thinking about Havard and his sword ever since I saw Odin’s sword that looked so similar. I think the Sumerians are lying because it doesn’t make any sense to have Norse runes on them, right?”

  She nodded and agreed with me.

  “But Inanna did know about it. How?”

  “I have no idea, Gavyn. If she was really having an affair with Havard’s father, she might have learned about it from him.”

  “And when the affair ended, maybe the Sumerians tried to steal it. And maybe Havard defeated them, which is why they hate me so much.”

  Keira looked out the front windshield toward my dad’s house and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t worry, Gavyn. We’ve got your back.”

  I couldn’t be sure, but it sounded to me like what she’d really wanted to say was that she had my back. And I wanted to tell her I had hers, too. I wouldn’t let those assholes hurt her.

  But she offered me a small smile and nodded toward our allies still waiting outside for us. “Let’s get them out of your father’s house then return to Asgard to find out who made that sword. We’ll get the answers we need.”

  We stepped onto the sidewalk with the others, and I jumped when Tyr pressed the button on his car key to lock the doors, which made the horn beep loudly beside me. I threw my hands up and exclaimed, “We’re about to fight a bunch of demigods, and you’re worried about someone breaking into your car?”

  Tyr shot me a defensive look and said, “It’s a rental. I want my deposit back.”

  I really didn’t know what to say to that, so I turned on my heels and headed toward my dad’s house.

  It was like walking up to the O.K. Corral, only I hoped no one would pull out their guns. Trying to survive sword fights was bad enough, but since the chance of shooting myself in the ass—or worse, my face—still seemed exponentially high, I didn’t want to reenact any Wild West showdowns. And yes, the only reason I knew anything about the showdown was because Hunter and I had seen Tombstone at least half a dozen times.

  As soon as we were within earshot, Ninurta stepped out of the crowd of demigods and held up a hand, stopping us. “Let’s fight with honor,” he called out. “No firearms.”

  “Agreed,” Tyr immediately responded. And even though I’d just been thinking the same thing, I kinda wanted to punch him for answering without consulting us. But Keira seemed to agree, too, so I figured this was in that ancient epic-supernatural-battle-and-showdowns’ handbook they still refused to show me.

  Ninurta focused his attention on me and said, “I’d like to barter with you.”

  “Um…” I shuffled my feet awkwardly, because who knew bartering was a part of said epic-supernatural-battle-and-showdown? But he glanced over his shoulder and shouted a command at an actual giant of a man, who reached behind him and yanked two bound hostages in front of him. By their appearances, I guessed they were teenagers, maybe college students, one girl and one boy.

  “Sharur for their lives,” Ninurta said.

  Of course. Being an evil villain had to be so much easier than playing superhero, because they got to run around kidnapping people to force us to concede and we actually had to play by the rules of normal civility and decency.

  Bastards.

  And since Tyr hadn’t bothered to consult me about the whole no-guns thing, I didn’t bother asking him if I should immediately accept or try to negotiate. I mean, those were peoples’ kids. “Deal,” I said. “But just so you know, if you hurt them or squelch on our agreement, I’ll not only steal Sharur back, I’ll break it this time.”

  Ninurta laughed and waved to the giant to make the exchange. “I have no use for them.”

  Tyr handed me Ninurta’s spear, and I carefully approached the giant who pushed the teenagers toward me. I caught the girl with my left arm as she stumbled, which caused the stitches in my shoulder to scream in angry protest, reminding me, “Hey, dumbass! You’ve got stitches in this shoulder!” Since I held Sharur in my right hand, I couldn’t catch the poor guy, who fell forward, but Keira hurried to his side to help him rise. As the giant snatched Sharur out of my hands and handed him to Ninurta, I thought I heard it whispering, and for the first time since stealing the damn thing, I was really glad to be rid of it.

  I never signed up for possessed weapons.

  Ninurta’s face lit up in this kind of orgasmic ecstasy as that spear touched his hand, and I cringed and jutted my chin toward Goliath. “So… where’s David?”

  Goliath just blinked at me, so I turned to Keira and asked, “Any chance you have a huge stone and a slingshot?”

  “Do you actually know what to do with a slingshot?” she retorted. “Or would you just shoot yourself in the head?”

  I wanted to make a smartass reply, but she was probably right.

  And besides, Goliath looked like he was ready to disembowel me, and that’s really something I needed to pay attention to because being disemboweled would put a crimp in the epic-ness of my supernatural battle of the ages. Keira handed me the same sword I’d used in New Orleans and I parried to block his swing. A brief clinking of blades was soon followed by the impact, and in case you’ve never been attacked by a giant with a sword, they can apparently pack a lot of force in their swings. I don’t recommend fighting giants, whether they have a sword or not.

  Tyr shouted at one of our heroes to get the now released hostages to safety as the lawn erupted into the frenzied chaos of battle. And I had just enough time to think, “See? Epic supernatural battle of the ages,” before Goliath charged me, swinging toward my midsection. I had to pivot and retreat, but by the time I faced him again, he’d already redirected and thrust the blade at my chest.

  There was no way I could gain the upper hand by overpowering him, and I doubted I could outrun him either. I was most likely faster, but his size meant he’d be able to cover more ground with fewer steps. I honestly had no clue how to fight this guy because unlike David, I didn’t have a slingshot. And Keira had been right: even if I did, I’d just hurt myself with it, so what would be the point?

  I heard Sharur making that ridiculously creepy whispering noise again and just had time to catch Ninurta’s pervy, creepy smile in response before he threw it at one of our heroes. It impaled him and he collapsed, and I’m pretty sure I made some croaking sound that only Goliath heard.

  And suddenly, I remembered a guy I really liked was on this lawn with me, and he had to go home to his daughter. “Joachim,” I whispered.

  I backed up to the house to give myself a second to find his tall, blond head and spotted him by the street, shooting arrows at a pack of Sumerian demigods who’d formed the Roman’s famous testudo formation with their shields so they wouldn’t get arrows through their brains. Admittedly, that didn’t seem like a particularly pleasant way to die, but I also wasn’t convinced any way of dying would be particularly pleasant.

  Goliath leapt onto the porch with me, and this time, his attempt to disembowel me hit a little too close to home. The tip of his blade caught on my shirt, ripping a four-inch gash into it, and a sharp pinch warned me he’d gotten some skin, too. Of course, being me, I yelled, “This is my favorite shirt, asshole!”

  He gri
nned like ruining my favorite shirt had been his plan all along.

  I’d been so focused a moment before on ensuring Joachim was okay that I’d stupidly backed myself into a corner. Literally. The entire porch had a waist high railing—my waist, not Goliath’s—and to my left stood the wall of the house. I could dive over the railing, but if Goliath had even half a brain, which I doubted, to be honest, he’d take two giant steps toward me and spear me in the back as I tumbled to the ground. And harpooning definitely seemed like a shitty way to die, so I decided against jumping ship.

  By this point, I’d begun having a difficult time remembering what I myself had learned and what I’d only recently unlocked in my weirdo “there’s a dead guy living inside me” genes. And in that brief moment before deciding on how I could possibly get out of this alive, I remembered that David hadn’t actually killed Goliath with a slingshot and stone but only caused him to fall then beheaded him. And even giants can’t survive beheading, which was good news for me if I could somehow decapitate this bastard.

  I pressed my back against the railing and bumped into a table where my dad kept the same potted ivy my mom had begun growing from a clipping in our backyard. It was the last plant she’d potted before she got too sick to garden anymore. I lifted it with my left hand, and at the same time, silently prayed, “I’m so sorry, Mom,” then hefted it at Goliath’s head.

  My shoulder screamed in protest again, only this time, far louder and something warm and sticky dripped down my arm. I’d popped the stitches, but I’d also hit Goliath in the head with a heavy, clay pot. He stumbled backward but didn’t fall. Still, I’d thrown him off balance, which gave me a narrow window to attack. I ran forward and sliced, my blade making contact with the thick, sinewy neck of the beast of a man who’d been trying to kill me for the past several minutes. And since he was quite likely a Nephilim or something, I had to use both hands to grip and swing, which my shoulder really didn’t like.

  Goliath’s neck was so thick and filled with rope-like bands of muscle and tendons that his head didn’t fall though. My blade got stuck somewhere around his spinal cord, and supernatural swords are a hell of a lot sharper than human swords, or so I was told. And his head didn’t fall. I yanked it free and kicked him away from me as his eyes bulged and one massive hand reached up to his throat as if he could stem the flow of blood with his thumb.

  For the record, it didn’t work.

  As he stumbled away from me, I inched around him to make a run for it, but I’d barely reached the steps when two demigods charged me. Now, my shoulder was still bleeding and hurt like hell, and I had a dying giant behind me making these incredibly disturbing warbling noises. But I wasn’t putting it past him that he’d somehow find a way to disembowel me still. So I retreated to the opposite side of the porch where a quick glance over the railing told me no one would be waiting for me if I made a break for it that way.

  But I never got the chance to find out if my escape plan would’ve worked. One of the two demigods who’d joined the fight lifted a throwing knife and threw it at my face. I managed to avoid becoming Pinhead by ducking, and thought, “Well, thank the gods for those demigod reflexes,” but then I thought, “Wait a minute, dumbass. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for those demigod genes and reflexes.” So I retracted my thanks and prepared to fight two demigods who likely weren’t arguing with the voices in their heads.

  Keira appeared from a brawl behind the demigods and ran her sword through one, which gave me the opportunity to concentrate on the guy who’d tried to turn me into a life-sized voodoo doll. “I don’t,” I shouted at him as I thrust my blade into that indentation between the clavicles, which probably had a name but Havard must not have ever learned it either, “appreciate people throwing knives at my face!”

  As I retracted my blade, Goliath hit the wooden planks of the porch and it actually shook, so I stared, dumbfounded, at his body for a few seconds before Keira yelled, “Gavyn, hurry! Ninurta’s getting away!”

  And because that was one bastard I wanted to kill myself, I snapped out of it and ran down the stairs, but I was already too late. He and his remaining demigods jumped into three separate vans that hardly slowed down as they screeched past us on the street, and the Sumerian war god once again disappeared.

  Havard Gets Hitched

  (And I discover I’m a little too attracted to my great-great-grandmother)

  Yngvarr laughed as I nervously paced the orchard, occasionally pulling apple blossoms from a low-hanging tree branch and twisting off petals to scatter on the ground at my feet. “She’s already agreed to marry you,” he teased. “Are you afraid she won’t show?”

  “I’m afraid of a lot of things, brother,” I answered. “But Arnbjorg changing her mind isn’t one of them.”

  “Then why don’t you leave some of the blossoms on the trees,” he suggested. “After all, Idun brought back the flowers just for your wedding.”

  I dropped the petals and sighed, stuffing my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t strip the trees. “Do you think I could ever end up a husband like our father?”

  “No,” Yngvarr immediately answered. “Never. You’re a far better man than he ever was.”

  “But we didn’t know him when he was young,” I argued.

  “We know of his reputation,” he pointed out. “You would never hurt Arnbjorg the way he destroyed our mother.”

  Voices interrupted our conversation as Arnbjorg’s entourage arrived, my sisters forming a wall in front of her. Yngvarr and our sisters were the only guests at the ceremony itself. Afterward, we’d return to the palace where all of Asgard would gather for a celebration, but we’d decided this brief moment when our union was consecrated would be for our family only, in part because hers had disappeared and couldn’t mark this occasion with her. And if her parents and brothers couldn’t be with us, we wouldn’t invite gods who were strangers to witness our marriage either.

  My sisters approached me and one by one kissed my cheek then I finally let myself look at my bride, a glowing vision of white silk with soft apple blossoms woven into the braid around her head. She was resplendent. And I’d never seen her so happy. Behind Arnbjorg, Frigg—who, as the goddess of marriage, would perform the rites—placed a kiss on my cheek then my bride’s and put a hand over ours. She blessed us, praying that our marriage would be fruitful, and we swore our allegiance to one another in Arnbjorg’s favorite place in Asgard. Somehow, Idun seemed to know the marriage was almost complete because apple blossoms began to gently break away from the trees, creating a shower of fragrant white petals.

  In one of the few customs we gods shared with the mortals who invoked us, Frigg asked me to present my new bride with an ancestral sword—a symbol of our union as it would be given to our firstborn son. My Sword of Light and Prophecy had been modeled after the one I placed in Arnbjorg’s hands, but this sword lacked the enchantments of mine. Still, it was exquisitely crafted and one of the finest swords in all of Asgard. Finally, we exchanged rings and Frigg declared our marriage sacred and permanent. She then led us back to our palace where almost everyone in Asgard awaited the elaborate celebration my sisters had planned.

  I quickly scanned the crowd for Freyja, and I’d asked Yngvarr to watch for her as well. I wouldn’t allow anything to spoil this day, especially a petty and jealous goddess like her. But I didn’t spot her, and I was soon pulled away from Yngvarr’s side as friends embraced me and congratulated us. Thor and Sif brought us such large steins of ale that I suspected I paled at the prospect of having to drink it, which the large god found quite funny, while Sif helped Arnbjorg sip from her own. Soon, both women were giggling and I was finally beginning to find the entire situation funny myself.

  Dagr kept the sun shining brightly above us for a long time, so that our wedding feast extended into what should have been night. But no one was in any hurry to return to their homes. We danced until our feet ached, and even Odin himself appeared to congratulate us. Admittedly, it bothered m
e that Arnbjorg seemed so flattered by this gesture, but I simply thanked the All-Father and returned to my guests. After countless hours of revelry, I heard a familiar voice calling my name and turned to see Gunnr waving at me. I’d seen her around, dancing and drinking with the other Valkyries, but she was attempting to get my attention now so I excused myself from Arnbjorg’s company and joined her and my brother.

  “Havard,” she exclaimed, hugging me quickly, “who would have thought you could convince a woman as lovely as she to marry you?”

  I laughed because Gunnr and I were old friends, and we both knew she was only teasing. “Certainly not me,” I agreed.

  “Gunnr says she has news,” Yngvarr said.

  I stood up straighter, because I’d asked her to find Arnbjorg’s family.

  “I’ve located her younger brother,” she said. “No sign of her parents or older brother. If they’ve been taken from Midgard, they’re beyond my reach.”

  “So her younger brother, Finn, you’ve found him in Midgard?”

  Gunnr nodded. “He’s on a farm along with nearly a hundred captives of this war. They’re not being fed particularly well, Havard, to say nothing of their treatment.”

  I glanced over my shoulder toward my new wife who laughed as Tyr twirled her to the music and my chest ached. I didn’t want to leave her already, but I had to rescue her brother. Yngvarr, as usual, seemed to guess my thoughts and said, “We’ll leave in the morning. Lay off the ale, little brother. It could be a long journey.”

  “I can’t tell her where I’m going,” I said quietly. “I can’t get her hopes up if we fail. So what do I tell her?”

  “Only that you have business in Midgard you must attend to and you’ll return to her as quickly as possible,” he answered. “I’ll get the specifics from Gunnr. Enjoy the rest of your celebration.” He winked at me and added, “And don’t stay up too late tonight either.”