Mist

women—some the daughters of mortal lords, some from among the lesser goddesses—to ride the battlefields in search of valiant warriors worthy of joining the Aesir until Ragnarok. Half of the Einherjar went to her hall, Folkvangr.

But Mist had ever been Odin’s servant, not the Lady’s. She’d had no dealings with Freya at all.

“Why not Odin?” Mist asked, struck by a fresh sense of foreboding.

“It is Freya’s Seidr that enabled her to breach the barriers of the Aesir’s Shadow-Realm with her thoughts.”

Seidr, called the Witch-magic. Mist knew very little about it, except that only Freya and Odin were said to possess it.

Dainn answered Mist’s unspoken question. “Odin and the other Aesir maintain the Shadow-Realm of Asgard. It is the Lady’s task to deal with Midgard.”

“And she knew you were already here?”

“Even so. She contacted me six days ago. Since I was on the other side of Midgard, it took me some time to reach this city.” He got to his knees, bracing his hands on the ground to either side of his body. “And now there is no more time for discussion.”

“Wait a minute. I want to know—”

“What you want is of no consequence. You are a servant, and you must obey.”

“Obey you? I don’t remember signing on to serve a cursed arrogant elf with dirt on his nose.”

He cracked open his other eye, and there was something fierce in it, an echo of un-elflike anger that put a chink in his facade of dispassion.

“My appearance is irrelevant,” he said, trembling as if he were on the verge of some kind of seizure. “My purpose in coming here was to make sure Gungnir was safe and prepare you and the other Valkyrie for what is to come.”

All at once Hrimgrimir’s words came back to her again. “A pity that you chose her side. You might have lived to see the new age.”

And she knew, even before she asked the obvious question, what Dainn was going to tell her.

“Hrimgrimir was only the beginning,” Dainn said, the ferocity leaving his eyes. “We do not know how many Jotunar are here with him, and there will be many others to follow. They will all be searching for the same thing.”

“The Treasures,” Mist said. A wave of fresh dizziness rolled over her, and suddenly she was in Norway again, kneeling over Bryn’s body, slipping the Falcon Cloak on its thong over her neck. And afterward, at the site of the massacre, staring at the broken halves of Thor’s unbreakable staff. Believing they would never be of use to anyone, ever again.

She grabbed Dainn’s arm before he could get to his feet, feeling long muscle that was surprisingly firm in such a tall, slender body. “Why?” she asked, though she already knew the answer to that question, too.

“What has ever been the Jotunar’s intent?” he asked, pulling his arm from her grip.

War with the Aesir and their allies. The old hatreds had simmered since the beginning of time itself, coming to a boil as the time of Prophecy drew near. Old grudges were revived, oaths broken, once- strong allegiances abandoned. Aside from a few giants who had intermarried with the gods and took the side of light, the vast majority had eagerly joined with Loki, himself the son of giants, Odin’s blood brother and most deadly enemy.

Suddenly Mist’s breath seemed locked in her throat, unable to reach her lungs. “They want another Ragnarok,” she said.

“And the victory they believe was stolen from them,” Dainn said.

“The Aesir want it, too?”

“No.” Dainn met her gaze, his own clear and determined. “It was never the intention of the Aesir to engage in another war. They intend to build a new Homeworld, a better one, in place of that which was lost.”

“In Midgard.”

Mist was well beyond shock by now, but her stomach performed some interesting gymnastics nevertheless. She could feel the looming disaster behind his words, but she could hardly begin to grasp the enormous and frightening consequences of such a plan.

“You’re saying they want to take over this world,” she said.

“It is complicated.”

Right. The old fallback line when someone didn’t want to tell someone else the truth. “It isn’t complicated at all. The next Ragnarok will be—”

“Must be won by the Aesir,” Dainn finished. “Or this world will be finished.”

“And the Aesir need the Treasures to win.” She suppressed a shiver. “Why hasn’t Freya contacted me and my Sisters directly?”

“You are only Valkyrie, and do not possess sufficient magic to hear her.”

There was nothing in his tone to indicate contempt for her limitations, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. She wasn’t even a demigoddess, like many Valkyrie. She had been born to mortal parents, and her very limited Rune-lore was a pathetic thing compared to that of an elf.

Or should have been. “What about your magic?” she asked. “How did Hrimgrimir manage to grind you into the dirt?”

He looked away. “Explanations later,” he said. “If your curiosity has been satisfied—”

“I’m not going into this blind,” Mist said. “You said you came to warn me. What is the plan here? Have the Jotunar located any of the Treasures?”

“None, to our knowledge. But you are the first we have contacted. We have been unable to locate the other Valkyrie thus far.”

“And you think I can tell you where to find them? I haven’t been in contact with any of my Sisters for over half a century.” There was just the briefest flicker of uncertainty in Dainn’s dark blue eyes, as if she had hit on a problem he hadn’t anticipated. A problem that scared him.

“How did you find me?” she asked, taking advantage of his lapse. “Why did you and Hrimgrimir show up here first at the same time?”

“Enough,” he said abruptly. He stood, wobbling only a little as he found his feet. “Take me to the Spear.”

Mist hesitated. She couldn’t get past the instinctive sense that something about all this wasn’t right. It wasn’t just the shock, the bizarre improbability of it all. It was something about Dainn himself. Something that made her reluctant to trust him.

And yet . . .

“Please,” Dainn said, inclining his head.

Mist found herself playing the word back in her mind to make sure she’d heard right. It wasn’t humility, not quite, but it was in the general neighborhood of the ballpark. She found it deeply disturbing that he could make her want to punch him in the jaw one second and then turn her feelings upside-down again in a heartbeat, all after she’d only known him for all of fifteen minutes.

“All right,” she said. “But keep your mouth shut and your hair over your ears when we get to my loft. My friend Eric may be there, and I’m going to have to come up with some kind of explanation for bringing an apparently indigent man in off the street in the wee hours of the morning.”

“Eric?” he echoed, giving her a long look.

“Just let me do the talking. And you’re going to have to answer a lot more questions on the way there.”

He nodded, and Mist headed for the Volvo. By the time he caught up with her, his filthy, ill-fitting rags flapping around him like the ratty feathers of a molting seagull, she was already unlocking the doors. She waited impatiently for Dainn to climb into the passenger seat.

He stood on the curb, frowning at the car as if he’d never seen one before. “This is your vehicle?”

“She doesn’t look like much,” Mist said, walking around to the driver’s side, “but she gets the job done.”

He regarded her with that flat expression she’d decided meant he didn’t want her to guess what he was thinking.

“I always shoot the Norns a little prayer when I get in,” she added dryly.