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My teeth ground together audibly. With all of Asgard as my witness, I was going to kill her. She would rue the day she bound me to her like some common beast. It would have to wait until the bond was gone, or I would kill myself along with her, but the day was coming.
“Did you hear me, Fatekissed?” Sigrun asked in a mocking voice. “Who is the witch?”
“No one you need be concerned about,” I said aloud, then hurled myself at the first warrior to step out of line. Bjorn.
We collided with an audible crash and danced apart. He was quicker than I assumed and caught me with the handle of his ax. It knocked the breath out of me, and I staggered back, almost falling into a snow drift before I could catch myself.
“My, how the mighty have fallen,” Sigrun taunted, circling to my other side. “The great Skarde Fatekissed has fallen out of Odin’s favor. It is clear that divine blood is not everything!”
Sigrun twirled his sword with a melodramatic flourish that diminished the impact. That answered that question then. Stupid but strong. Taunting an enemy and making a show of it was a good way to end up maggot food.
Fyrcat splashed the snow at her feet with the contents of her vial, scooped up a handful, and hurled it at Sigrun’s back while it was turned. It shattered on impact, and Sigrun’s back arched, a low moan trickling through his teeth. It was his turn to stagger back, giving me enough time to catch my breath and bring my sword back to guard position.
“Watch out!” I managed.
Fyrcat turned to see Gunda sprinting toward her. She was fast. Faster than any shieldmaiden I’d ever seen, with the exception of Eir. Though it was probably uncharitable to compare Gunda to my lost love. Eir was divinity, a Valkyrie of renown. Gunda was as mortal as the rest of us, which perhaps made her skill that much more admirable.
The witch dropped to the ground a fraction of a second before Gunda swung her sword in a mighty arc that would send Fyrcat’s head spinning into the air. It did manage to take inches off Fyrcat’s hair, a fact that seemed to bother her more than her near-death. I snorted. Witches with their skewed priorities…
She crooked her fingers into the shape of a rune and muttered a word. Gunda’s boot, which had been set to crush her skull, slipped on a shiny patch of ice. Gunda went down with a cry. Her shield came down on top of her, pinning one arm. Fyrcat scrambled onto her knees, crawling purposefully toward the downed shieldmaiden, her wand clutched loosely in one hand.
A cry caught in my throat when she raised it high, poised like a dagger to take Gunda’s heart. They might have been here to kill me, but in many senses, they were still my kin. Letting a witch slay them was blasphemous. I half-turned, unsure of how to stop her. I couldn’t stab the damn woman now that we were bound. Her life was tied to mine, and doing so would be as good as turning the blade on myself.
My hesitation cost Gunda. Fyrcat brought the wand down with a shout, jamming it into the woman’s chest. It couldn’t pierce the armor, but in the end, it didn’t have to. The moment it made contact, she simply vanished, leaving the impression of her back and legs in the snow as the only evidence she’d been there at all.
“Gunda!” Nyk cried.
A punch to the sternum caught me off guard. I hadn’t heard him approach. The blow knocked the wind out of me and thrust me a few steps back. I found Nyk inches away, bow abandoned in favor of beating me with his bare fists. Sigrun remained in his human form while Bjorn’s body twisted, transforming into his beast form.
“I’ll kill you,” Nyk said, striking again.
He landed an uppercut that launched me into the air. My sword tumbled from my fingers, and I distantly heard Fyrcat scream. I hit the snow several feet away from where I’d stood. It brought me down inches from his abandoned bow. Not my preferred weapon, but it would have to do.
I notched an arrow, pulled the string back until my knuckles brushed my cheek, sent a brief prayer to whatever god would listen, and then sent the arrow whistling through the air. Dizzy as I was, I wasn’t sure which version of Nyk was advancing on me. The one on the left, right, or center?
There was a meaty thunk of impact and Nyk paused, staring in shock at the arrow protruding from his throat. Then he went down. I didn’t have long to celebrate. Bjorn pounced on me, ripping the bow out of my hand, his snapping jaws rooting for my throat.
Fyrcat appeared just above his shoulder. Before he could process what was happening, her spell threw him across the clearing. He smacked into a tree, letting out a pitiful whine and shifting out of wolf form. He lay very still. Dead, or merely stunned?
It didn’t ultimately matter. Fyrcat stalked over to the downed wolf and jabbed her wand into the base of his neck. Another flash of light, and he disappeared as well. She repeated the process with Sigrun, who hadn’t managed to struggle to his feet. He let out a vicious snarl and backhanded her before blipping out of existence, gone to wherever the others had disappeared to.
Fyrcat limped over to me, the right side of her gown torn away. Blood ran down her pale thighs from a gash in her leg. Long, weeping furrows marred her right cheek, and one eye was swelling shut. Something like pride and amusement gleamed in the other.
“Well done with the arrow,” she said. “I wouldn’t have managed to stop him in time.”
“Where are the others?” I demanded. “Did you kill them as well?”
Fyrcat rolled her eyes. “No, fool, I cast them further down the world tree. With my strength this low, I could only manage a distant part of Midgard. I would have preferred to send them straight to Helheim.”
A tightness in my chest eased. They were alive. For now, at least.
Her lips pursed as she read my expression. “I don’t see why that makes you happy. They were trying to kill you. They’ll try again, if the dead don’t beat them to it.”
“It’s their duty.”
“And your duty is to kill me,” Fyrcat pointed out. “And yet my heart still beats. Perhaps duty isn’t everything.”
“The day is still young,” I muttered. “Help me up. We have a city to save.”
