Maybe it would never be enough that Svend came to him too late after his betrayal, but he had still chosen the Kingdom of Rivers in his final hours in this realm. Herrick would make it count, but first, he had to pull Maude back from Hela's trance.
When she finally dropped him, both blades hung from her hands on either side of her as she looked down on the dead man, his blood pooling onto the carpet. Herrick circled her, never turning his back to her, until he reached Bryn's side. Her sister's face was drawn as she watched Maude stand to her full height.
Only it wasn't Maude anymore. The dead stare of the goddess of Hel greeted them as she tipped her head to the side, eyeing them up like they were prey.
"Minn eldr," Herrick said softly, one hand reaching out to her. She was still in there; she had to be. "Come back to me."
The woman before him chuckled darkly before shadows started to swirl around her ankles, the darkness shrouding her until they could only see her cold face, which did not belong to Maude anymore.
"No!" Bryn and Herrick both called at the same time, both launching themselves at the growing spire of shadow in the center of the tent.
However, they both crashed into the other side, collapsing onto the floor as the shadows cleared again. He tried not to look up, did not want to see what he already knew to be true. Bryn's shuddered gasp told him everything he needed to know.
Maude was gone. Hela had gained full control and disappeared with her.
50
Baldr emptied the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor behind his tent. He almost hadn't made it to the privacy of the dark woods before he started choking on bile. The blood-curdling screams from the parents witnessing their children be possessed by the shadowdraugrthat Vilde created would haunt him for the rest of his days.
"The young blood works as a better conductor for the transfer ofgalder. They are much more impressionable this way," Vilde explained with a wide smile on her face as she traced a long fingernail down the side of a young boy's face. "My shadowdraugrneed strong, young bodies to transfer their incorporeal forms successfully."
The youngling tried to swallow his fear and be brave for his parents, who watched, but the fire in his palms sparked when Vilde brought the small iron band out and clamped it around his throat. The fire he'd been controlling vanished in a puff of smoke as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his small body collapsing.
The mother shot forward, trying to wrap her bloodied fingers around Vilde's throat, but Helvig flicked out his fingers and a vine shot out to restrain the woman. She had fought the hardest for her child, even though all the parents had been difficult to hold back.
"Iona," the man who had been at her side breathed. His injuries were far worse than hers, his face swelling beyond recognition.
Unable to decide who to go to, the woman named Iona crumpled until only her restraints held her in place. Helvig released her so she would hit the ground, asnide chuckle escaping the King.
He'd had to leave after that. If he had stayed, he would have blown his cover by pulling the family to safety. Already, he felt slimy for not standing in. His duty was getting in the way of the things he wanted to do and the people he wanted to help. He'd allowed himself to become lax about the injustices the King of Flame committed every day in the name of his duty to spy and relay back information to Nida.
It was starting to feel like the duplicity of this scheme wasn't worth the violent guilt he felt. Once, he had been able to separate himself from the injustice, but now? It ate at him every second of the day. Ever since he'd had to torture the General of Rivers.
He hated himself for it.
Duty had become a thin excuse for why he did the things he did. He'd believed in his mission, had accepted the consequences, and had known the monster he'd needed to become to perform his role. But those long hours spent in the cells below the Palace of Wind and Embers with the Kolbeck general had chipped away at his resolve.
Periods of their sessions had been wiped from the Rivers General's mind thanks to the use of a tonic he had bought discreetly from a healer in Logi. Baldr had wanted to purchase a tonic for himself— the bliss of ignorance was almost too tempting to resist. But he had withstood. His punishment would be the clawing shame that ravaged his soul for the rest of his miserable existence. At least he would be able to spare the Rivers General some of the pain. Not that it made Baldr feel any better for carrying out his orders.
He could have done more for him. Heshouldhave done more.
The burning loathing in the General's eyes when he had tried to kill Baldr the day he'd helped him escape proved that he would hold a grudge for the rest of his days. Good— he deserved the detestation aimed at him.
Grabbing the skin of water outside his tent, Baldr washed his mouth out before heading inside the tent to prepare for the fight at daybreak. Per Helvig's request, he was to command the army from the back. He'd call out orders and execute attack plans from the rear so he could see how the fight was progressing.
It went against everything he knew— their culture encouraged them to be the attacker, to be on the front lines to fight for their beliefs. But Helvig would have him send his men out first.
They weren't his men anyway; he wasn't sure why it bothered him so much to suddenly realize how alone he was in this position. The only thing he could hold on to was the journal from the late Queen of Flame— the mysterious book that opened when he spilled his blood onto the clasp but revealed blank pages to anyone but him.
He flipped through a few pages absently, unsure of if he was going to finally sit down and read a passage or not, when the journal fell out of his hands when a rough wind blew into his tent. The book landed on the ground, pages open to the beginning of an entry about halfway through the journal.
Curiosity overwhelmed Baldr at the sight of the neat writing.
I don't write about him often. I don't wish to endanger him if these journals were to be found and the protective seals broken.
I try not to even think of him.
But that is the curse of my heart, of my fate. To love from afar, to be no more than the starting block for Helvig's downfall. If all I have been able to do is bring these lights into the darkness of the world, then my love for them will embolden their purpose— to illuminate the night sky as their predecessors before them.
