Beyond a Darkened Shore(56)

15





The crows above us flapped their wings at the Morrigan’s pronouncement, and icy cold water swam through my veins. “How can the dead fight battles?” I asked.

“They are the army of the undead,” the Morrigan answered cryptically. Her gaze shifted to Leif. “This one knows of fallen warriors who live to fight again. He hopes to be welcomed into the halls of Valhalla himself one day.”

A look of surprise and almost hope flashed across Leif’s face. “Do you mean that Ciara will be able to call upon the einherjar?”

Frustration grew within me. “Who are the einherjar?”

“I believe he’s referring to the warrior souls who are taken by the Valkyrie to Valhalla,” the Morrigan said, a glitter of amusement in her eyes. She turned her attention back to Leif. “But Ciara is a daughter of éirinn. She cannot call forth the einherjar.”

Leif’s disappointment was clear in the drop of his shoulders.

“If not them, then who?” I asked.

“Your own people,” the Morrigan said. “Brigid gave you gifts of armor, but I have swords that will pierce even the tough flesh of the j?tnar.” She pulled two swords from the mist at her feet, swords nearly as tall as Leif. “For you, Northman,” she said, handing him a sword with an ornately tooled grip. A Celtic knot made up the pommel. “This is Vengeance, so named because it feeds on the need for revenge.” She turned to me and presented me with a sword as beautifully crafted, only the pommel was a miniature skull. “And for you, Ciara of Mide, I give the Sword of the Fallen.”

I took it reluctantly. As soon as my hand wrapped around the grip, the sword thrummed, coming to life as though it had been asleep.

“This sword is the key to summoning the army of the undead.” Her tone turned sly. “Wouldn’t you like to give the dead a noble purpose?”

“Not at the cost of damning their souls,” I snapped.

The Morrigan’s eyes flashed menacingly in the shadowed light. “Then you have sentenced the people of éirinn—and your remaining sisters—to death.”

Anger rose so fast within me I nearly choked on it. “You wanted me to fight for this quest and so I have, but if this was your intention all along, then I will not be manipulated. Leif and I will fight together, and we’ll defeat the j?tnar, backed by an army of men with flesh and blood and beating hearts.” I shook all over, the sudden fury causing my vision to redden on the edges. “Tell me how to return.”

The Morrigan stared at me for several moments, her expression dangerous. It was only my boiling anger that kept me from fearing that she would tear out my heart as easily as she had the hellhounds’. “You need only open the door.”

As soon as she said it, I became aware of the other part of me, the ethereal part that could open doors of light and steal a j?tunn’s life force. I indicated for Leif to follow me before striding away, eager to be free of the Morrigan’s tainted presence.

I’d nearly made it out of the crows’ wood before I realized Leif wasn’t behind me. I swung around, only to find the Morrigan and him finishing a conversation. Leif nodded once and turned away. Anger writhed within me at the thought of his taking the Morrigan’s side. “What were you discussing?” I asked as soon as he caught up to me.

His eyebrows were drawn down low over his eyes, as though he was lost in thought. He glanced up, and a wry smile appeared on his face. “I was begging her not to kill you, princess. Ancient war goddesses don’t savor being scolded like children.”

My eyes narrowed. “I doubt that. You’re no silver-tongued peacemaker.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll stand by you, Ciara. Summoning the army is your choice to make. We’ll fight the j?tnar together.” His smile turned teasing. “I’m not sure what use an army of dead Celts would be anyway.”

I returned his smile in spite of myself, my anger draining away as quickly as it had come. “Then we must return.”

I closed my eyes and sank down within my mind as easily as submerging myself in a bath. The sound of the wind in the trees, the rustle of animals, everything but the sound of my heartbeat disappeared. I could see the doorway, light shining just beyond. With my eyes still shut, I reached for Leif’s hand, felt its calloused warmth strong against my own.

In my mind, the door became as big as a castle’s, the yellow light as bright as sunlight.

I stood upon the threshold with Leif’s hand firmly in my own. The light engulfed me, and I let myself fall.

The sickly sweet scent of rotting flesh was the first sensation to greet me as I stumbled, disoriented and nauseated in a field. A cow’s low came to me on the breeze, and I blinked my bleary eyes. Slowly, Leif came into focus. He was crouched next to me, head down, as though he was as disoriented as I was. Somehow we were clothed in our gifted armor, though I had no memory of putting it on. I leaned on the hilt of my sword.

And then I saw them—what was left of the men we had fought with.

Skeletal fingers lay near me, the meat picked from the bones. A torso just beyond them, ribs exposed, the remaining flesh putrid and covered in flies. I covered my nose as the wind changed direction, blowing the smell of the fallen Northmen toward us. Bones were scattered about as though animals had feasted upon them, though I had my doubts the remains had been set upon by animals at all, having seen what the j?tnar were capable of.