“I can’t turn around. I have orders from Odin himself.”
“But surely you have battlefield command. Call it a strategic withdrawal. The situation’s changed and you need to reassess—as does Odin.”
“And how has the situation changed?”
“The dark elves are under my protection. And the Tuatha Dé Danann’s.”
Again Fjalar shifted his eyes to Brighid, trying to gauge the threat level she represented. It should be radioactive.
“Why? What makes you care about them?”
“They deserve to live until Ragnarok like everyone else.”
“But they’re on the side of Loki and Hel!”
“They claim to be on no one’s side but their own.”
“Of course they say that! But skulking, creeping, they fill all that is not light like the darkness they are—”
“Ah, there’s the skald talking now! And it’s all poetic bullshit covering up the fact that you want to walk in and murder people because they might do something at an ill-defined point in the future and because you don’t like the way they look. Go back and rethink this.”
“If Odin, in his wisdom, is satisfied that this is the right course, I will not question him.”
“Meaning you’re not thinking for yourself. And also assuming that Odin has all the facts, when he may not. Have you tried talking to the Svartálfar?”
“It’s not my place. Nor is it my place to listen to you. There are two sides: Asgard’s and theirs. On which side will you stand?”
“First, that’s bullshit either-or thinking. And second, I’ve already told you that the Svartálfar are not on the side of Hel any more than they are on yours. They’re neutral, and if you’d take the time to talk to them instead of marching on them, we could spare a lot of lives here.”
“I asked where you stand, Druid.”
“Right here in front of you, demanding that you not attempt genocide.”
Fjalar paused and craned his neck to look at the gray ceiling of clouds. “So you would defy Odin?” He spied and then pointed to Hugin and Munin, circling above us. They had not been there earlier. “He’s watching.”
“Then he can watch me say this: I would defy anyone who wished to commit genocide, including Brighid.” In fact, I was starting to wonder about Odin. Loki wanted to burn the world, and Odin wanted to just wipe out part of it. There was a difference of scale, but the sentiment was the same—denying people their right to live because you didn’t like them. It gave me pause to think about what I was doing: Do vampires have a right to, uh, unlive? Was my situation any different? I supposed it was: Theophilus had actively sent Werner Drasche and others to kill my friends and me, and he would doubtless do so again. He intended me to be the last victim of a genocide he’d carried out centuries ago with the help of the Roman legions, marching to do his bidding much as Fjalar and company were marching to Odin’s. But my rationale of an active self-defense was perilously close to Odin’s, and could bear some further scrutiny later.
“I certainly hope you would defy me in such a case,” Brighid said, igniting her left fist. It did much to draw Fjalar’s attention, as did her three-level voice, in which she could speak only truth and could be quite persuasive. “I am Brighid, First among the Fae, and I also will protect the right of the Svartálfar to exist. Withdraw and let us talk calmly of these matters and come to an accord.”
“No,” Fjalar replied. “You underestimate the will of Asgard. The time for talk has past. We must prepare for Ragnarok.”
I cocked my head at him and said, “When was the time for talk, exactly? Because I must have missed it. Seems like you haven’t talked to the Svartálfar at all.”
“Enough! You insert yourselves into matters that don’t concern you. Move aside.”
“Be very concerned, Runeskald,” Brighid warned in her three-part voice. “If you move forward, you will be the first to die an unnecessary death. I can read those runes well enough to know your armor does not protect against fire.”
“You may send me to Valhalla if you wish,” Fjalar said. “Either way, I will fight in Ragnarok.”
I raised my left hand in a plea for him to stop. “Fjalar, no. Wait—”
The Runeskald lifted his axe high and shouted, “?sir!” As soon as he brought it down, pointing it at Brighid and shouting, “Forward!” the goddess of fire lit him up like a stump, just as she had promised, and I wondered why people who believed in the next life were so anxious to start living it instead of enjoying the one they had.