My throat closed up and my neck shortly thereafter, and I could breathe again and get some oxygen to my brain. I had enough juice for maybe one trick and that was it.
“You got a plan, Mr. Druid?” Coyote said. Garm showed his teeth and barked, his hackles raising.
I gasped once and said, “Run. Change your scent!”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice. Bye!” Coyote left his spear behind and hopped off the still form of Hel, streaking right into the confused mass of draugar. Garm watched him go but didn’t watch for long. He turned to stare directly at me and growled. Mine was the scent he already knew, the one that had gotten away once upon a time. And now that he saw me next to the dead body of his mistress, he wasn’t going to let me get away again. He sprang forward, scattering draugar and knocking over any that didn’t get out of the way in time. I had two choices: fight or run.
If I stood and fought, it would be in a weakened state, with little to no magic at my disposal to boost speed or strength, and unless I got the proverbial “critical hit” right from the start, my long life would end as a chew toy for a hellhound with a legitimate grudge. There was basically only one way to escape him, and it was by no means a safe option but it involved a sacrifice as well. The odds of surviving were slightly higher, however, so I didn’t hesitate. Using the last of my magic, I shape-shifted to a great horned owl and took wing directly away from Garm, rising to what I hoped was just above the height of a spear thrust. I didn’t want to rise too high and make myself a clear target for Loki’s bow or anyone else’s.
And though it hurt, I left Fragarach behind, to be found and picked up by anyone. Because I needed to achieve the full air-speed velocity of an unladen owl. That’s about forty miles per hour, and I’d never make it if I had to lug an awkward few pounds in my talons. As it was, I couldn’t reach that speed right away. There was a whole lot of flapping that had to happen first, and there were no magical bursts. Garm had a head start on getting up to speed, and an aggressive woof told me he’d seen me take flight and was on my literal tail now. And he was closing the distance between us, rather than me opening it up. I might be snatched out of the air, a nice snack for him. There was nothing for me to do but to keep calm and flap on—a phrase that is not emblazoned across T-shirts everywhere for good reason.
Noise grew behind me as Garm drew closer—hoarse cries of undead surprise as the draugar were mowed down, the baying of Garm himself as he tried to catch up, and the crunch and clatter of collisions. The draugar were slowing him down at least a little bit, preventing him from reaching top speed, but he was still getting closer. I could feel it. And then I realized that the draugar could probably help me out quite a bit. Most of them were in retreat, heading around the base of the volcano to see what was on the other side. As a result, Garm was running into their flank. If I turned in to the draugar, though, and flew toward the Fae and the Norse and others, I might be able to capitalize on their instinct.
Garm’s breath blew hot and snotty on my tail feathers, and that’s when I banked sharply left, directly over the heads of the retreating draugar. They’re not trained fighters necessarily, like the Einherjar, but when something is coming at you and you have a sharp stick to poke at it, chances are you’re going to use it if you can’t get out of the way in time. That’s what I was counting on.
Garm overshot me on the sharp turn and I gained some ground, but he halted and came after me. And in so doing, he encountered some fierce resistance. The draugar weren’t obeying Hel now, so they gave her hound no breaks. They saw a big dog and they didn’t want to get run over, so, with the tips of their spears, they tried to discourage him from doing that. Since he wasn’t paying attention to the draugar, he ran right into more than a few of those spear tips. It slowed him down and he yelped a couple of times, eventually giving up to attend to his many wounds. I banked to the right, heading for the far side of the battlefield again. I needed to get clear and find a place to replenish. I hoped Coyote was doing the same thing.
The draugar continued to retreat, but those that Hel had raised from the dead fought on. Whatever she had done to them did not require her constant control. At least she wouldn’t be raising any more.
Not that there weren’t still huge problems to solve. The draugar might have no stomach to fight the armies ready for them, but they weren’t popping back through the portal to the gloomy realm of Hel either. They were going around the lake to the north, toward human settlements, where maybe a handful of people had a few things ready “just in case” of a zombie apocalypse but the rest were woefully unprepared. And then there was the issue of what had happened to Loki—
A thunderous roar shook the air. Loki had found the body of Hel. “Where are you going?” he boomed in Old Norse, and I thought at first he meant me, but it turned out he was talking to the draugar. “You must fight and win if you want any peace! Fight!”
I don’t know what he was talking about there, what lie or promise he had made them, but it worked. The draugar spun around and fought much more viciously than before, and the sudden reversal was devastating to the pursuing troops, who had broken ranks. Brighid still stood, but the Fae host was much reduced. The remaining Olympians continued to fight well. The Einherjar and the dwarfs were engaged, but the Álfar and Svartálfar both took heavy losses on the reversal. I saw no sign of the yeti, and the Norse pantheon still hid behind a dark cloud of Thor’s making, though it had advanced somewhat on the right. I imagined that anything that walked into that cloud would not be walking out. In the meantime, Loki could not target them. And they, likewise, could not seem to find him; I would have expected Odin’s spear or Thor’s hammer to have flown by now, but they held back.
Loki’s voice rolled across the field again. “Druid! I have your sword! I know it was you!”
I cleared the edge of the battle and dropped to the earth a safe distance away, behind the Svartálfar troops. I felt a tiny trickle of the earth’s magic there, fading but still available. I shifted to a hound so I’d have some speed and some teeth if I needed them and then refilled my bear charm and resumed healing.
So Loki had found Fragarach. I was ready to let him have it, for all the good it would do him. I should go straight to the nearest bound tree and exit. I’d helped take out Hel, got my throat cut, and almost become a doggie treat. That was enough. No reason to stay, except maybe to root for Athena to win me a thousand boxes of Girl Scout Cookies.
Off to my left, a draugr staggered out past the dark elves and transformed in front of me into a coyote. It was, in fact, Coyote himself, who’d crossed the field successfully. He let his tongue hang out as he trotted up to me, and I thought he was going to stop, but he merely bobbed his head and kept on going. I chuffed in laughter. I couldn’t blame him, and I took a few steps after him, thinking I’d go with him and buy him a few beers somewhere. But Loki’s voice called out again.
“Come on, Druid. You’ve killed all my children. Come and face me now. You know where I am. Come and face me.”
I stopped, and so did Coyote. He turned around and sat, waiting to see what I would do. I tilted my head at him and he mirrored the action. Smartass.
Loki was under a misapprehension. I hadn’t actually killed any of his children—not really. Granuaile and Freyja had both played major roles in killing Fenris. I had only witnessed the death of Jörmungandr. And if Loki would simply think clearly for a moment, he would realize that my sword on the ground next to Hel was not, in fact, the spear stuck in her back. I was not the cause of death.
I still didn’t need to face him. I didn’t think I could take him, honestly—not without Fragarach and a whole lot of luck. But I did know where Hel’s body was, and I could lead others there. With Loki out of the picture it would be over; the Norse could handle things from there. Wouldn’t it be worth it, then, to do at least that much?
I raised a paw to Coyote and then pointed my body back to the battle, keeping an eye on him. Coyote shook his head and turned tail, trotting away. I was on my own for this one.
Fair enough. I’d get myself some armor and a sword from the field and find Brighid. She could fight Loki’s fire with her own fire. And feeling the land go dead beneath me again, I knew Loki needed to go sooner rather than later.