Page 50 of The Last Valkyrie (Vikingrune Academy #4)

Chapter 50

Ravinica

FUCK. I’M TOO LATE !

I frantically scanned the ground on the wrong side of the wall, noticing the Helbent expressions on the faces of the dark elves as they scowled up at me. The two jotnar closest to our people looked impassive, unbothered.

Beyond them Dahlia was getting closer to Korvan and the trio of jotnar, including the, erm, “big-titted crone-looking bitch” in black with a bull skull on her head. She was raising her hands, speaking in a normal voice I couldn’t nearly hear.

My eyes swept down to our side and my group under me. With my wings flapping to keep me hovering fifty feet up, I chewed my cheek, anxious, trying to think of what I could do.

My gaze moved back to the impromptu meeting near Delaveer. Back to my men. Back to the bad guys—

No. I can’t do it alone. Not without warning again. I gave them my word.

I pitched myself sideways and careened down, noticing Kelvar the Whisperer had gotten to my group and was speaking with them.

When I landed, wings jostling and making me the big fat center of attention, I said, “I have to do something, guys. Dahlia is down there right now !”

For some reason, I looked at Kelvar. His gaunt face was stuck in a grimace, thinking. Then he looked up from the ground and nodded. “Go, then. The boys just filled me in on what’s going on—the threat Dahlia possesses.”

I reeled. “Wait. What? You’re just going to let me . . .”

“We’ll be along with you shortly, love,” Sven said for the group, giving me a vicious smile. “You can count on it.”

Kelvar spun around and marched toward Hersir Osfen nearby. “Axel!” he yelled, getting the bald battlemaster’s attention. “When will your troops be ready? We need to get down the hill, posthaste. It’ll be bloody.”

Axel stared at Kelvar like he was crazy. But the stout soldier had a stiff jaw, his orange beard blowing in the ashy breeze. “Give the order and we charge, Whisperer. Just . . . do your best not to send us on a death mission, eh?”

I ran over. “It might not get to that, sir. If you can just buy me some time.”

Corym split from my other men and advanced on Deitryce and the elegant, ethereal-looking leader of Heira, Vaalnath. Corym’s father—could have been his mother, too, if things had gone a certain way.

“ Maltor ,” Corym said while going to his knees in a sign of supplication that still unnerved me. Once his forehead was picked up from the ground, he gave the Maltor a desperate look. “I implore you to follow Hersir Axel Osfen’s lead. Distract the Dokkalfar long enough for Ser’karioth to do what she needs to do.”

Vaalnath’s placid face tilted like they were looking at an alien. A strange smile curled their lip. “It will be done, my fair son. The soldiers are getting bored of waiting.” They tossed their wispy silver curls over their shoulder, smile widening. “I’ll bring the savages along with us.”

Jhaeros of the Skogalfar gave the Maltor a narrow-eyed scowl but grunted and nodded.

With our hurried preparations underway, I lifted a few feet off the ground. “Wish me luck, boys.”

“You don’t need luck, little sneak,” Grim said.

“You have us ,” Arne added, trying on a bit of bravado while puffing out his chest.

“What the iceshaper meant to say is you can trust yourself , silvermoon,” Magnus added with some side-eye at Arne.

Arne’s plush cheeks shone red. “Erm. Yeah. That’s what I meant. You have . . . you.” His face twisted like he still wasn’t sure about the way his sentence came together.

I rolled my eyes, croaking out a laugh, and then flew into the sky. When I got high enough, I angled off—no longer worried of any errant arrows hitting me.

I loped over the wall of the academy a hundred feet above it, and the Dokkalfar simply watched. It was odd, gliding over enemy lines without them raising their weapons or trying to stop me with their dark magic.

I coughed as I entered a cloud of smoke and soot, then fluttered down the hill once I had a wide enough berth that I didn’t think the dark elves could get to me even if they wanted.

Here goes nothing, I thought, giving a silent prayer to Odin to grant me wisdom and Thor to grant me strength as I rushed headlong into unspeakable danger.

When my feet lightly touched down on the craggy earth below the steep passage of Academy Hill, I was no less than twenty feet from the throng of enemies.

Korvan turned to me first, ignoring Dahlia’s words and turning his back to her with a grin on his pitch-black face. “Ah, speak of the she-devil.”

My face tightened. I glared at him menacingly as I walked forward and my boots crunched on gravel. “Swordbaron.”

The three jotnar nearby, off to my right about twenty feet, scared the jeebies out of me and made my skin crawl with nerves and goosebumps. But they did nothing to stop my advance on my winged father. They simply stared blankly, their severe, otherworldly faces impossible to discern.

“Just in time,” Dahlia said behind Korvan. “You almost started without me, Linmyrr.”

“Quite bold of you, coming here all alone,” Korvan said, wrapping his corded arms around his chest. He wore a beige tunic and pants, not looking like the absolute threat I knew he was.

“I’m not alone,” I said, waiting for the soundtrack music to play behind me.

It didn’t come.

Frowning, I tried again. “I’m . . . not . . .”

Shadows opened up behind me, darkening in the moonlit patches cast by the tall hillside. Kelvar emerged with my five mates right behind him, the Whisperer panting and taking a knee with exhaustion once he surfaced from his shadow portal.

“. . . Alone!” I finished, pleased with their entrance this time.

Korvan smirked. “Cute. Tell your puppies to stay back.”

I did no such thing. They moved closer, within five feet of me, and I noticed the first twitch of a reaction from the jotnar beside us. For now, they were examining the situation, analyzing with their alien eyes. I wasn’t even sure if they could understand us.

I also don’t think they’ll be waiting around forever.

At the top of the hill, sounds began to pick up—orders in the Elvish tongue from the Dokkalfar speaking in their harsh, stilted dialect. A bevy of action was going on up there, dust kicking up as I assumed they prepared for the incoming attack by Axel, Vaalnath, Jhaeros, and their respective men.

“Have you reconsidered my offer?” Korvan asked.

I scoffed, spitting on the ground between us. “You mean the one where I become your breeding stock, Father , and lose all sense of agency, freedom, and dignity?”

He rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like the proliferation of our species is such a bad thing, Ravinica.”

“Maybe it is, if you’re the one proliferating it.”

The mirth left his face in an instant, replaced with a twisted frown that showed me the true hazard he represented. “Who else will it be? The daft, pathetic boys behind you? Any coupling between non-dragonkin will create sickly, weak excuses for offspring.”

“Daft? Pathetic? You clearly don’t know a thing—”

“Weak and sickly like my Astrid, you mean, dear Korvan?”

My brow lifted, as did Korvan’s.

Slowly, my wicked father turned around to face the Tomekeeper, who had started creeping up slowly behind him. “Yes, witch. Precisely like her. She never had a chance, shirking her bloodline for the disgusting traits of humans .”

As if it was Astrid’s fault her ears never turned out pointy. When my brow leveled, a knot formed in the middle. Wait a second. Dahlia’s tone, her body language.

Portals. Runesphere. Dragonkin.

I racked my brain, trying to piece together the threads to a tapestry I knew was connected, yet couldn’t yet see the full image across its canvas.

Dahlia raised her chin then shrugged off the sack on her shoulder, which made my heart palpitate. She dropped it on the ground in front of her, nudging it with her foot. “You don’t need the girl, dark lord.”

“What is this, woman?” Korvan asked. “A ruse, no doubt.” His eyes had moved to the colorless bag.

“The thing you’re really after, no? The thing your kind has been craving for centuries?”

Dahlia said the words Korvan wanted to hear—the coaxing in her tone clear—yet there was something about her that threw me off. What the fuck is she doing?

From my side profile of Korvan, I saw how his face flashed with interest and curiosity. He couldn’t hide it no matter how hard he tried.

“Take the Runesphere and leave this place,” Dahlia said.

The jotnar eyed each other, the skull-masked woman taking a heavy step forward.

Oh fuck. Something about this got their attention.

Anger siphoned through me and I stepped forward also. “I don’t need your help, if that’s what you think you’re doing, Dahlia. There will be no compromise with the likes of—”

“ Silence , girl!” Dahlia’s voice was fierce, her hand slicing through the air and wobbling her arm.

I could only clench my teeth as Korvan walked toward the bag. He stopped ten feet away. “Take it out, crone.”

Dahlia nodded, kneeled, and reached into the bag. She brought out the oblong-shaped Runesphere, which looked like nothing but a plain stone about the size of both her palms.

Yet even from this distance and with the Sphere’s power lying dormant, I could feel the tether it held over me. The magic that coursed through it called to me like a whisper in a snowstorm, and I knew this was no fake relic.

Deitryce’s ill-advised thievery had brought the Runesphere here, Dahlia had promptly stolen it. Now she was going to simply hand it over to the greatest enemy we’d ever seen in Midgard.

Portals. Runesphere. Dragonkin.

Why was she looking at those specific books? Talking to me for so long while she had me caged? She could have simply walked off and stayed secretive about her ploys.

Of course, the Tomekeeper hadn’t told me everything. She had said enough to get me interested. Enough for me to think on those tomes splayed out on her desk once Randi told me about them.

The vibe began to shift, my mind spinning.

I recognized something that I had missed—we had all missed—in our rush to villainize and disparage the woman who had hated my guts ever since I’d gotten here.

Korvan, however, didn’t know Dahlia from the Dalai Lama. He stalked forward to her and the relic she cradled in her arms, his wings curved over his body, laxly showing no fear or caution.

As he reached out, she pulled her hands back toward her body. “We’re in agreement, then?”

Korvan nodded, hand pausing. “Yes. Give it here.”

Dahlia’s lips curled deviously. “Careful, dark lord. It’s heavy. Know how to work this—”

Korvan snatched the artifact from Dahlia’s grip and growled, “Of course I know how to work the Runesphere, stupid human. All elves do.”

Dahlia stepped back, raising her hands. “Then it’s time for you to go.”

Korvan’s midnight features shifted wry and unnerving. “Not quite, witch.”

Dahlia blubbered, her face also changing. “B-But, you said—”

Korvan began Shaping runes in the way humans did, even though elves had their own way to summon magic. He swirled the green and blue shapes around the edges of the Runesphere as he held it like a babe against his chest. The figures turned purple in the air before dissipating.

He spun around to face me and my men. “I’m not leaving without my daughter. ”

His eyes sank into me with all the ancient years he had on his side, menacing and imposing and calming all at once. They were eyes that spoke of vast knowledge, unspeakable cruelty, and cunning plans.

Yet there was also a sense of . . . naivety there. Wonder. Like he was finally seeing plans come to fruition after centuries of plotting: Get the Runesphere, get the power, get the girl who would birth you an empire. Stick it to the humans, the Ljosalfar, and anyone else who might have doubted Dokkalfar ingenuity and repressed rage.

The Runesphere began to glow. His smile widened, showing brilliant white teeth, and I took a step back toward my mates.

I had seen that glow before . . . and now the power of the Runesphere called to me heavier, harder, sifting into my mind and twisting everything around.

Heavier . . . “It’s heavy.” I understood Dahlia’s “warning” to Korvan now. It wasn’t that the Sphere was heavy in weight—obviously. It was a small thing.

No, it was heavy in power . Which made it difficult to wield. How could Dahlia might have known that, never having lain eyes on the Runesphere before today? Her ancient tome.

There was a certainty in her face now, muddled just over Korvan’s shoulders, as the Sphere’s glow became a burst of light.

Gone was the blubbering shock on her face about Korvan going back on his word. Of course he would. Dahlia knows that.

I put my hand behind me, on my spear. I could hear the tightly gripped sounds of gloves on hilts as Kelvar did the same, and my mates matched our movements in preparation.

“Ah!” Korvan yelled triumphantly, keeping his hands on the stone and lifting it. “I see it! The wealth of—”

His voice cut off on a sharp hiss, the blinding-white shimmer of the Runesphere spreading white tendrils of energy down his dark hands and arms.

He dropped the Runesphere like it had burned him, and the stone sank into the ground at his feet, the light immediately going out like a snuffed candle.

Sagging to a knee, Korvan breathed heavily. His wings stretched out wide and his face whipped up toward me—those ruby-red eyes boring into me as a snarl ripped from his throat. Behind him, a shrill voice.

“ Now , Vikingrune!” Dahlia yelled.