Twilight of the Gods (The Harbingers of Light Book 7) Read online

  “But how?” Baba Yaga asked. “How did the shadow plague just suddenly find you?”

  Abagail shrugged. “Anthros found where the All Father lived, and he chose me.”

  Baba Yaga shook her head. “He just . . . found you?”

  Abagail squirmed under her questioning. The truth was, she didn’t know. She thought she did, but Baba Yaga’s questions made her realize just how much she didn’t believe it. It made no sense that Anthros had found her on a whim.

  "But how do you think he found you? Why do you think the darklings were there in the first place? Wouldn't someone have had to call them? Wouldn't they have come to your home through a portal that could only be opened with blood? Maybe taint the bees you'd been tending? Maybe marked by a bee strategically placed inside the suit after it had died of infection?"

  "Olik," Abagail said. "He wouldn't have."

  Baba Yaga appraised her for a moment. "Trickster gods live up to the title well."

  "Why didn't he just kill us?" Leona asked.

  "Because he needed you alive to bring about the Twilight of the Gods. If you were already dead, then the balance would tip back in favor of the light, and it would chase away the darkling tide that had gained so much power."

  Abagail was shaking her head before Baba Yaga could finish. The hag knew so many things, and so far the All Father at the back of her mind had agreed. He was silent on this one, but Abagail couldn’t believe it. Dolan had been so concerned when she’d gotten the shadow plague. Looking back at it now, with the revelation that he’d orchestrated it, Abagail combed her mind for a hint that he hadn’t been as worried as he seemed. She couldn’t find any evidence that he’d felt guilt. In his eyes, she hadn’t seen anything but concern.

  He had been hasty in sending us off, Abagail argued with herself. But that was normal, right? On her home world of O, people were burned if they were discovered marked with the plague. He’d only been doing what he needed to keep her safe.

  She remembered him reading to them on stormy winter nights when the wind cut through their home and the snow piled up in puffy drifts outside. He would hold Leona on his lap and she would always fall asleep moments after he began reading. Abagail would curl up at his feet, wrapped in a blanket and watch the flames of the fire and let her mind wander to faraway places and other times and worlds.

  He had never given them anything other than love. If he had any part to play in all of this, it was in preparing them to face what the world had thrown at them.

  “No,” Abagail said. “I won’t believe it.” She sought out her sister’s eyes, but Leona wasn’t looking at her, instead she stared at Muninn. The raven could see into the past, but she was avoiding both of their gazes, which wasn’t a good sign. Muninn was the more compassionate of the two. She wouldn’t want to reveal this and hurt them.

  Why hadn’t she told us before? Abagail wondered. If the raven knew this, why didn’t she say so? Maybe she hadn’t considered looking into their past. Maybe she didn’t think Olik was capable of turning against his own children to gain what he desired.

  “You don’t have to believe it,” Baba Yaga said. “It doesn’t make it any less true.”

  Rowan spoke up then, her eyes trained on Abagail, and the fierceness of her voice frightened Abagail. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “And I will help,” Vilda said.

  "Why didn't the gods simply kill Anthros?" Leona asked. Her voice was shaky, and it was obvious she wanted to change the subject. No matter what Abagail thought, Leona believed what she’d been told. Maybe it was because she’d been deceived so many times since setting out on their journey. She’d been abandoned by her doll Skuld. She had believed in Daniken, and the dark elf had taken advantage of her. She’d been lied to by Rowan, she’d been forsaken by Rorick as he struck out to live his own life, she’d been abandoned by Abagail when she’d unwillingly ventured to Muspelheim. What was one more twist in her journey?

  “You mean to ask why you didn't kill Anthros?” Baba Yaga asked, a smile playing on her withered face. “Because this place is holy. Already it’s polluted with darkling wyrd in Elivigar, isn’t that enough. There’s no reason to pollute the holiest of lands with the blood of a darkling. Imagine the damage that could have done. You’ve already seen some of the damage darkling wyrd can do in Eget Row. Just look at Elivigar.”

  “So what do we do?” Abagail wondered. “How do we stop all of this from destroying Eget Row?”

  “The only way to do that is to appeal to the darkling gods,” Baba Yaga said.

  The thought made Abagail’s stomach churn. Appeal to the darklings? She’d sooner let Eget Row burn.

  “But even now they attack the Ever After,” Vilda said. “If they manage to break through, it will destroy our power.”

  “Destroy it how?” Leona wondered. “Like, destroy Abagail’s wyrd, or the All Father’s control?”

  Vilda shrugged. “The light of the Ever After gives us our strength. If the darklings take control of it, then we will lose that strength.”

  “Then how do we attack their strength?” Abagail wondered.

  “I thought it would be obvious,” Baba Yaga said. “To destroy their strength you need to purify Elivigar.”

  “And then we just . . . talk to them?” Abagail wondered. “We destroy their source of power, and then we . . . just talk?” She didn’t think that was going to work.

  “They are like all other creatures, they fear death. If they are so weakened, then wouldn’t they fear that it was all over for them? Wouldn’t they then be open to talking?” Baba Yaga questioned.

  Abagail frowned.

  “It’s the only chance we have,” Vilda said firmly.

  “Then it’s what we will do,” Leona said.

  Abagail nodded. It seemed they were all on board with this.

  Huginn leaned forward, her eyes on Abagail. “What do you need us to do, All Father?”

  Abagail was startled by the question. She had no idea what to do. She’d never been part of anything like this before. Most of all, she didn’t even know how she was going to purify Elivigar. Her mind reeled.

  “We need soldiers,” Skye said.

  “The war has already begun,” Baba Yaga said. “What you need is commanders to lead the forces of light against the darkling warriors.”

  “I will go,” Camilla said.

  “I’m going with her,” Rorick said.

  “I can go,” Gil spoke for the first time.

  The rest of the group chimed in. It was decided that Mari, Celeste, and Skye would go with Abagail to guard her. Leona was dead-set on facing Gorjugan, who was somewhere with the frost giants to the north. Rowan and Vilda would face Olik, Rorick and Camilla to lead the fire-etin.

  “Then it’s all set,” Abagail said.

  “You will guide them from the throne,” Baba Yaga said. “Once they have their orders, you can work on Elivigar.”

  Abagail didn’t want to ask how she was going to do that, she only nodded.

  As Abagail suspected, the other doorways around Baba Yaga’s dining room led to various places across Eget Row. While the crone didn’t know precisely where Gorjugan or Olik were, she opened a door that looked out onto frosty grass that melted away into drifts of white snow and plains of ice. There was no doubt the frost giants were close since no place on Eget Row was afflicted with winter.

  “Olik has likely taken refuge with the frost giants. You will find him with Gorjugan, if my suspicions are correct.” Baba Yaga motioned for the group to depart. They’d already given their hugs and farewells, but Leona came back to Abagail, wrapping her arms around her sister’s waist.

  “Why do I feel like I’m never going to see you again?” Leona sobbed into her sister’s tunic.

  Abagail swallowed back the lump in her throat. She hadn’t been there for Leona much lately, and she felt she needed to be there for her now, play the role of big sister, and give her the courage to do what she had to do.

  And that meant no
tears. No matter how much she felt Leona was right, and they’d never see one another again, she had to stand firm. She had to give Leona that little hope of winning and being reunited.

  She gripped Leona in a bone crushing hug, and kissed the top of her head. “We will get through to them,” Abagail promised. “I will work on Elivigar. By the time you reach Gorjugan and Father, you will be able to get through to them.”

  Leona only nodded, her tears too violent to speak.

  Rowan gripped Leona by the shoulders, and pulled her to her. Their mother gave Leona a tight hug, rubbed Abagail’s shoulder, and with a mournful look to her oldest daughter, she helped Leona through the portal.

  Vilda and the ravens were already waiting on the other side.

  As the door closed on the icy landscape, Abagail caught the tearful gaze of her sister.

  She felt it to. This was goodbye. The portal closed moments before Abagail dissolved into the tears she’d been fighting, and sat at the table. Skye placed his hands on her shoulders, but no matter how much peace he willed into her, it wasn’t enough to fight back the sorrow she felt. She’d been away from Leona a lot, but there had always been the chance of seeing her again, of knowing that no matter what she faced, she would be all right in the end. There had always been the promise of uniting once more. Now there was no such hope. She knew, deep down, that the darkling gods couldn’t be reasoned with. Even before they’d been cast out of the Ever After, they’d been full of spite for the other gods. Why would they feel any differently now, even with their power gone.

  But their power isn’t completely gone, Abagail told herself. Hilda still had the spear—the second God Slayer that had killed Boran and she wasn’t without power. In Eget Row, the God Slayer had the ability to kill a god once and for all. It worked differently than in the physical realms of the nine worlds. In any other place, the God Slayers would rid that world of the god, but the god would still exist in the Void, or in Eget Row. But if a god was wounded with the God Slayers in Eget Row, their powers would be completely destroyed. That’s what happened to Boran. That’s why he wasn’t around now to fight in the last battle, or serve as mediator and strive for peace. Maybe he was the only one that could have stopped all of this. If Boran was alive, would he be able to stop this?

  It was better not to think about that. There was no way to revive him now, and wishing wouldn’t change that.

  “Abbie,” Rorick said from behind her. Skye removed his hands to let Rorick through. Rorick wrapped his strong arms around Abagail’s shoulders and leaned his face down next to hers. “My portal is ready.”

  His words only brought on more tears.

  “This isn’t good-bye,” he whispered to her. “This is so long.”

  Abagail remembered the day she realized she’d been infected. It was the day everything had changed for them. She’d been with Rorick in the grove of trees between their homes. It was one of the last true times he’d been there for her without looking at her as if she were a monster. The hug he gave her now felt like the old Rorick—the Rorick that had unwavering faith in her. The Rorick that had unconditional love for her.

  “We’re in this together,” he told her. “I know you. You’re stubborn, and you’re strong, and you can do this.” But his voice was clouded with emotions. His face was wet with his own tears, slick on her cheek.

  Abagail nodded, her hand seeking out his. He gripped her hand and tightened his arms around her. He kissed her cheek and stood, but didn’t let go of her hand. It was her afflicted hand. He’d finally accepted that part of her, and her mind knew then that he’d been killed after being infected with a plague of his own. If it was possible, the revelation made her feel worse. Rorick, who had been so afraid of catching the plague, had been infected with it days before his death. It must have been a terrifying time for him.

  Sooner than she was ready for it, Rorick slipped his hand from hers, and Skye took up a position behind her. He knelt on the floor and wrapped his arms around her, his head resting on her shoulder. She could almost feel the rush of energy he pushed into her body. But it wasn’t enough to calm her tears.

  The portal closed behind Rorick, Camilla, and Gil.

  “Get your tears out while you’re here,” Baba Yaga said. “There is no time in this hut. The world outside won’t move for you until you leave this room. Take all the time you need to strengthen yourself, for there will be no time for weakness once you leave here. Only time for action.”

  Finally, Abagail forced her thoughts to something other than the sorrow she felt. Either Skye’s peace was finally working on her, or she’d managed to calm herself, or maybe the thought of all the people counting on her had sunk in. She dried her face, rubbed her puffy eyes, and took Skye’s hand. He squeezed it once, and she stood.

  Baba Yaga was standing by a doorway in the back of the room, near the wood cooking stove. She didn’t slit her palm this time, or prick her finger. Nor did she reach for the iron doorknob. Instead, the crone waved her hand before the door, and the wood wavered. Light lanced down from the glass ceiling and into the wavering door. It rippled once more, but this time with light starting in the center that rode the ripples outwards to the edges of the door.

  Within the light, a grand hall appeared. Abagail knew this was the place they were going, and she stepped through as if she were being called home. She was dimly aware of Celeste, Mari, and Skye entering the great hall behind her. There was a shifting of wyrd, and she felt the portal close. She turned back to see if Baba Yaga had followed them, but there was no trace of the hag anywhere. If Abagail and the elves weren’t standing in the great hall, she would have thought everything that had come before had been a dream.

  She turned her focus back to the hall, the reminder that time was once more running for her, and her friends were out there facing their fates. The hall was white, and though the walls and floors appeared to be made of marble, it felt as though she stood upon clouds. Her feet sunk into the floor as if she were treading on the softest carpet she’d ever felt. Clouds slipped by the arched windows, and trailed through the doorways and across the floor like fog. There were several long white tables sat with white plates and crystal mugs. Several people were already at the tables, chattering about their conquests and their deaths and how bloody they’d been. There was laughter over their stories, and it brought a smile to Abagail’s face.

  No matter how she had thought home was about a hearth, stories by the fire, and chores with Leona, now she knew that had all been a lie. Standing there, listening to the stories of fallen heroes she knew this was her real home.

  At the end of the radiant hall stood three thrones. The one to her left was gilded with gold, and behind it sat a golden disk that emitted the faintest glow of sunlight. To her right stood a chair inlaid with silver, behind it a silver disk that pulsed with moonlight.

  In the middle and slightly behind the two thrones sat another throne, high up on a dais. This one was hers, she knew it. It was made of oak with a wide seat, and large arms. An orb sat at the end of each armrest, and she knew that was a place for her hands. The back of the throne was high, and the top carved into horns, like hundreds of antlers had been collected from hundreds of deer and fused with the throne. She had visions of two ravens resting on the back of the throne, thought and memory, whispering to her of the deeds transpiring in the nine worlds.

  Abagail crossed the hall and as she took her first tentative steps up the stairs to the throne of the All Father, the chatter in the hall whispered to silence. It wasn’t until she’d reached the top, and turned to look down on the hall, that she noticed the fallen heroes had forsaken their meals and knelt on the floor before the throne in supplication.

  She remembered there being many more warriors in the hall in times long past, and she wondered why there weren’t more now. When she sat in the throne, the heroes stood, found their seats once more, and resumed their jubilant chatter.

  Abagail glanced to one of the windows, and within the open ar
chway—for there were no doors to close the doorways, and no glass to close the windows in the Ever After—stood the ballicrie. They were dressed in flowing gowns that seemed to be made of mist and light. Over their chests rested armor, on their heads were helmets. Their hands held swords of light, and from their backs flapped giant, feathery wings.

  A flutter of purple shot from Celeste’s head and came to rest on the shoulder of one ballicrie. Moments later, the ballicrie whispered a name. She raised her sword, pointed down at Eget Row, and a beam of light shot from her weapon.

  Abagail knew the moment the flash of light struck, because the air wavered at the opposite end of the hall, and when it cleared, it revealed a woman in armor who hadn’t been there a moment before. She dropped her weapons, which instantly vanished, and strode to a spot at the table by the laughing men. When she arrived, the men cheered.

  “Helen!” a bearded man said. “How nobly did you die?”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Tripped over a root and stabbed myself.”

  There was laughter, and she punched the bearded man in the shoulder before taking her spot at the table, her plate filling with meats, her glass filling with mead.

  Several more times Abagail witnessed the ballicrie claim the dead, and with each flash of their sword, another figure joined the table of heroes.

  Abagail tried not to see the darklings circling the Ever After, but it was hard not to. Outside of the light of the kingdom, she saw a wall of churning shadows. She wasn’t able to make out a single shape, but she knew there were thousands of darklings there because the fogbank roiled like a turbulent river.

  She turned her focus back to the chair, and as if by memory she knew what to do. She placed her hands on the orbs at the ends of the armrests. A wave of vertigo hit her, nearly pitching her from the chair. She pushed against the backrest, and closed her eyes to make it pass, but when she closed her eyes, suddenly she was no longer in her body, but instead soaring through the air high above Eget Row.