Dead Embers Read Free Page A

mountain air, handsome face
unaffected by the biting wind.
    I opened my mouth to defend myself, then swallowed whatever
I'd meant to say. My forehead scrunched as I pretended to seriously consider
his option. "I'm thinking that may be a very good idea, Fen."
    He just shook his head as if I were a silly child begging
for a ride on his shoulders. "Not very likely, warrior maiden of
Odin."
    "Well fine, if you put it that way I guess I’ll have to
walk, then." I bent over as air whistled through my lungs. A glance over
my shoulder confirmed that Fen seemed in no hurry, so I shifted to admire the
view while my breathing steadily began to resemble a human's more than a
panting pack dog's.
    Magnificent.
    The beauty of the palace and the Valley of Asgard stole the
breath from my lungs all over again.
    We stood just above the tallest spire of the palace, and
only now did I understand its size. I'd known Odin's abode, with its
labyrinthine passages, housed his half of the Valkyrie recruits: a veritable
army living within the palace, each Valkyrie with her own quarters. Not to
mention rooms for the servants who brought our meals, who tended to our
garments and our armor. And I was pretty sure there was a whole lot of the
palace I hadn't even seen yet.
    From our vantage point on this mountain of stone, the
Valkyries' bathing pools on our left were tiny shimmering ponds, glistening
like a multitude of mirrors in the pale morning sun.
    Beyond the pools, further up the hill, sat Valhalla, guarded
by the gleaming Glasir tree with its magnificent golden leaves, now dappled
with snow. The sight of Valhalla brought Aidan to my mind, and with him came
memories of Freya and her strange ways. A shadow crossed my thoughts, keeping
the weak sunshine at bay. I shivered, and even that slight, jittery movement
brought me back to awareness.
    I stood at the edge of a deadly precipice.
    Around me, angry shards of grey and black stone rose like
hundreds of Gothic sentinels. Snow laced the jagged edges. High above, majestic
mountain peaks towered, beckoning us with their vicious yet ethereal beauty.
    "Enough rest, Valkyrie. Come," Fen snapped. Icy
air twisted beside me as he swept toward the path again, cloak flying, boots
crunching on the gravelly path. A clump of pebbles rattled and rolled down the
slope, flying off the edge of the cliff. I waited to hear the sharp little
cracks of rock against rock as they landed.
    Nothing.
    I stamped the warmth back into my booted feet and followed
the wolf man, staring daggers at his back. He was in a strange mood today. He
didn't seem to have much to say. Not that he was the most talkative Asgardian
I’d ever met. As I pursued Fen's disappearing back, I pondered our tangled,
complicated relationship. He was many things to me: friend, mentor, secret love
of my best friend, Sigrun.
    And son of Loki.
    I gritted my teeth. To avoid thoughts of that treacherous
excuse for a god, I surged on, concentrating on the hike.
    We stopped only twice more, short snatches in time that
barely allowed me to gulp down a breath and did nothing to ease the burning
fire in my muscles, especially with the added burden of my wings.
    Just when I was certain I could no longer endure the flames
of exertion, we reached a large shelf of stone. I held onto the nearest rock
wall and concentrated on catching my breath, straining, resisting my body's
desire to faint. Blood pounded in my head, and my breath came in short, sharp
bursts.
    Not enough air.
    My vision clouded, eyes filling with little dancing
starbursts, and for a moment I was only vaguely aware of smoothed stone beneath
my fingers—and, of course, the desperate icy coldness of the air.
    The lightheadedness of high altitude held my attention until
Fen grunted. Damn it, Fen. What's your all-fired rush, anyway? I
guess Fen had missed the part where I wasn't a frickin' super-powered Ulfr like
him.
    I straightened, scowling as I asked, "How much farther
do we—"
    The rest of my question