Mist

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ryan said, his own ears beginning to burn. “I barely even talked to him.”

“Lot of people would say he’s pretty hot. All that long black hair.”

“He didn’t even look at me. And even if I was interested, which I’m not, it’s obvious he and Mist . . .” He trailed off, unable to meet Gabi’s worried gaze.

“Maybe not so obvious to them,” Gabi said.

“As soon as I met Dainn, I knew he was important, like Mist. I mean, to save the world from the giants and the Sauron guy. Loki, I mean.”

“Loki. Sounds like some kid’s toy or something.”

“That’s not what Mist told me.” He turned to face Gabi, willing her to understand. “I know we can help them. And they’ll protect us from the giants and everything else.”

“I always protected you, Ry,” she said, sadness in her eyes.

He clasped her hand. “I know. But it’s not just you and me anymore. It’s everyone.”

Gabi’s jaw set. “If you say so. But the second something looks funny, I’m outta here. You can come with me or not.”

Ryan knew better than to keep arguing with her. He always ended up giving in, and he couldn’t do that this time. “If you have to go,” he said softly, “I’ll understand.”

“Shit,” Gabi snapped. She laid a small, warm hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Ry,” she said. “I know this is important to you.”

“We should get some sleep,” Ryan said. “I think Mist is going to be asking a lot more questions tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Gabi got up. “You’re still taking the bed.”

“Okay.” Ryan tugged at his oversized pants, not minding at all that they didn’t fit. He had a bandage on his chin where the giants had cut it. He was clean. He wasn’t hungry. And he didn’t have to walk the streets, hoping he’d earn enough to get him and Gabi through one more day.

“G’night,” Gabi said, stretching out on the sleeping bag. “And try not to dream, Ry.”

He shivered and pulled the blanket all the way up to his chin.

* * *

“Are you ready?” Dainn asked.

He sat across from Mist on the living room rug, gazing steadily into her eyes. She was still tense, and all too aware of Dainn’s natural elvish scent, clean and brisk as a cool wind over the mountains of Alfheim.

She averted her gaze from the swallowing darkness of his gaze, focusing on the next thing she saw. Unfortunately, that was still Dainn: his long, elegant hand resting palm-up on his knee. It was the kind of hand that could bring pleasure with the lightest touch of a fingertip.

And she’d asked Dainn if she was a problem for him. Did this glamour thing work both ways?

Curse it.

“Is your rib troubling you?” Dainn asked, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s nearly healed,” she said. Which it almost was, giving her capacity for fast healing, though she hadn’t helped it by working in the forge and it still hurt like Hel.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Very well.” He hesitated, as if even he didn’t quite know where to start. “There are several kinds of magic among the peoples of the Eight Homeworlds.”

“I know,” she said, ticking off her fingers as if repeating a rote lesson. “Elf, growing things; Dwarf, earth and stone; Jotunn— two kinds, fire and ice; Galdr, the Rune-magic, ranging from the most powerful kind Odin uses to what any Valkyrie can do. And Seidr, Freya’s magic.”

“Known to only a few of the Aesir,” Dainn said. “It was once the sole province of the Vanir, but Freya taught it to Odin. And there is a magic more ancient still, also of the Vanir but long forgotten.” He glanced toward the door to the hall as if he had heard something outside it, then turned back to Mist. “Your Jotunn abilities will come more naturally in time. I do not know the Seidr or the ancient magic, and you would not benefit from elven magic now, which only very few non-Alfar can master. We will concentrate on the Galdr.”

“Fine by me.”

“First I will teach you to breathe. It is the foundation for everything that follows.”

“I know how to breathe,” Mist said. “That’s one of the first preparations any fighter makes before practice.”

“This is different,” Dainn said. “It is the awakening of the mind to accept what as yet lies beyond your reach.”

“Take the pebble from my hand, Grasshopper,” she quoted.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t suppose you ever watched television back in the seventies.”

“Is there some significance to the reference?”

“Never mind.” Mist sighed, aware that she was only putting off the inevitable. “You said you studied with a lama in Tibet. I should warn you that I’m no more a New Age groupie than a sorceress.”

“I do have some difficulty imagining you at the feet of an ancient wise man in a mountain cave, sitting absolutely still for days at a time.”

Only the slightly wry tone of his voice told Mist that he was teasing her. “I hope you’re not suggesting that’s what I’m going to be doing,” she said.

“I am only moderately wise, and I anticipate hours, not days. We both have bodily needs.”

Bodily needs. She could no longer tell if he was joking. “Go to it,” she said, swallowing hard.

Dainn cleared his throat. “Given your own long time in Midgard, you may not be surprised to learn that there are many diverse disciplines that can enhance the shaping and controlling magic. In India . . .”

Mist did her best to listen attentively, but when Dainn began to speak of chakras and how they corresponded to the Runes, her eyes nearly glazed over. Once the actual breathing exercises began, however, she saw the value in his seemingly pointless instruction. They dulled her awareness of his physical body, and her own.

Dainn seemed pleased with her progress. Like Mist, he had gradually become more relaxed, his shoulders slightly dropped and his eyes half closed.

“Very good,” he said. “We will always begin every lesson in the same way.”

At that rate, they’d never actually begin the lessons. Mist almost wished she could encourage more procrastination.

“You sure you haven’t taught magic before?” she asked dryly.

“Not during my time in Midgard.”

“You could have fooled me.”

He tilted his head, his gaze turning inward. “It is late. Do you wish to continue?”

“Do you?”

“I am not tired.”

“Neither am I.”

“Remember that I will need to touch the surface of your thoughts. Until you can hold the Runes in your mind and fully utilize their power, I will have to guide you.”

Her muscles began to tense up again. “I can handle it,” she said.

“Then let us work through the Rune- staves one by one. First is Fehu, of Freya’s Aett. It is the Rune of abundance and plenty, success and happiness.”

“I know what it means,” Mist said, too sharply.

“You know the surface meaning,” he said, “but that is only of use in the rudimentary magic you required as a Valkyrie. When you aided me before, you simply held the shapes in your mind. Now you will learn every major and minor aspect of each stave in the Runic Alphabet so that every Bind-Rune and charm you choose to employ will create the precise result you intend. Each of the Runes must become a part of your very being, summoned with the merest thought.”

“And what is the price?” she asked.