Chapter 9

 

“Acacia?” David turned to look over his shoulder. The sphinx pressed her nose against his cheek, her long wild mane of dark hair tickling his face. “How did you—”

“Talk is a luxury that will have to wait,” she replied. “I’m afraid even up here we are not safe.”

As if to illustrate her point, Fenrir jumped up at them, matching their altitude. Acacia veered away before the wolf’s teeth could catch them, and the wolf fell back to the ground, causing an earth-shifting tremor.

“I should have known you and the sphinx were working together to keep my fang from me,” Fenrir growled. “There is nowhere you can fly that I will not follow you! I will eat you both, even if you fly all the way to Valhalla!”

“Did he say his ‘fang’?” David looked at the dripping dagger in his hand. Was his dagger what Fenrir was talking about? How was it possible?

“You will not need to go that far to deal with me,” Acacia shouted down to Fenrir. “You need to go back to your prison, Fenrir. It is not your time yet.”

“How dare you command me!” The wolf bellowed. “It is my destiny to devour this world, and all worlds! I will not be locked away again in that wretched prison! I will get back what belongs to me. But first….” He turned his searing gaze towards Gullin. “I will have justice for the murder of my sons.”

“Your sons got tired of waiting for you. They were going to eat the sun and the moon,” Gullin retorted. “We Master Huntsmen do not stand idly by and let beasts like you destroy what’s good and right.”

“How arrogant humans are, to think they can stand in the way of another’s purpose,” Fenrir snarled. “You cannot stop the end of your world any more than a blade of grass can stop a storm.”

“If you think a blade is so weak, come taste the edge of mine,” Gullin taunted.

Fenrir pounced at Gullin, who darted out of the wolf’s way a split second before his great paws flattened the ground where the Huntsman had been standing. Gullin smacked Fenrir in the muzzle with his sword, but the wolf caught the blade in his teeth and tried to wrest it from Gullin’s grip. Gullin freed one hand to withdraw his dagger, which he planted right into the empty socket in Fenrir’s gumline. Rather than open his mouth, Fenrir bit down harder, causing the sword to shatter in two. Gullin tumbled backwards, holding only half a sword.

“Acacia, we have to help him!” David called.

“Help is coming,” Acacia said. “It just needed a minute to catch up to us.”

That’s when David heard a screech from across the fields. An avian with wings that blanketed the heavens tore through the sky at a hurricane-fast pace, shrieking thunder as it came. Fenrir glanced up right as a golden eagle dove talons-first into his nose. The wolf howled, shaking his head madly to free himself from the eagle. At the same time, there was a rumble of hooves across the fields. Four stags—one white as winter, one green as spring, one bronzed from the heat of summer, and one crimson as the changing leaves of autumn—stampeded towards the wolf with their tree-tall antlers lowered for battle.

“Friend of yours?” David asked.

“Let’s say they’re on loan,” Acacia said, as she landed lightly on the ground, releasing David. “They are guardians of the World Tree.”

David watched as Fenrir pried the eagle off his face with his paws and bit down on the eagle’s neck, but the bird was buffered from the bite by its thick feathers. A smaller raptor—a silver hawk—fluttered up from between the eagle’s eyes, where it had been hiding. The hawk flapped its wings and pecked at Fenrir’s eyes, causing the wolf to stagger back. The stags barreled into Fenrir’s side, their combined strength sending the wolf tumbling across the ground.

“Should we help them?” David asked.

“They seem to be doing fine,” Acacia said. “Not that I don’t want to give that hairy brute a good whipping, but it’s more important right now to get you and that dagger as far from Fenrir as we can.”

Gullin had dropped his broken sword and gotten clear of the skirmish, running over to join David and Acacia. He didn’t say anything at first, but then he nodded towards the sphinx. “Mistress…Acacia,” he corrected himself.

“It is good to see you, Gullin,” Acacia replied, although there was a twinge of sadness in her tone. “We should be away.” She made a whistling sound, and from the fields where the other creatures had come, a horse of storm-gray, with sea foam-white mane and eight muscular legs, galloped over to them. David and Gullin gaped in awe at the incredible steed.

“David, Gullin, this is Slepnir,” Acacia said. “We might get in a bit of trouble for borrowing him from his owner, but Tyr says he’ll take the penance for it.”

“Tyr?” David asked.

Acacia nodded. “Our ally. You will meet him soon. Now you two get on. I’m not much for horse riding.”

Acacia had to help both men get up onto Slepnir’s back, as Slepnir was nearly eight hands taller than a normal horse. As Slepnir took off, David looked back to see Fenrir limping away in the opposite direction, as the eagle, hawk, and four stags continued to pursue him.

“I need to find my family,” Gullin called to Acacia, who flew on the right side of Slepnir. “I told them to head towards the village, and I’m not going anywhere else until I know they’re safe.”

“Then we will wait outside the town while you go to them,” Acacia replied. “I’ll see to it that they have good guardians to protect them, until we see that Fenrir is dealt with.”

“Just about anyone would be a more sensible guardian than that scatterbrained Ru,” Gullin said. “I swear, he better be keeping a good eye on Beatrice and Ian, or I’ll tan his hide.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him, Gullin,” David said, remembering the time Tanuki had saved Gullin from the belly of the Sleepless Dragon. “I would think you could trust him with your life.”

“If it comes to pass that he actually saves my life someday, I’ll eat my socks.”

While the morning light crept up upon the hills of Moffat, there was no morning light where Fenrir had taken refuge to lick his wounds. The guardians of the World Tree had driven him back through a tear in the Curtain, away from the human world. He managed to lose them in the mist of the Curtain, and made his way to an isolated wasteland within the icy terrain of Jötunheimr. This was a land that even the Viking gods did not wish to visit, for it was home to giants of rock and frost. Such frightful beings, however, did not stir dread in Fenrir’s heart.

Fenrir found a cave within the face of a mountain to crawl into, settling into the darkness that had been his closest friend during all those centuries of solitude. He cursed himself for being so close within reach of his fang, and letting it get away. He cursed the human who had slayed his sons, the sphinx and the young one who had deceived him.

But he would find them. He would make them pay for their crimes against him.

His stomach grumbled. How quickly his hunger always came to him. He could have devoured those stags and those stupid birds, if he were not so weak. He would eat them all, soon enough. For now, he could probably find a rock giant for lunch. The taste would be horrid, but it would tide him over.

“That certainly was not a fair fight, was it?”

Fenrir snapped his head up towards the mouth of the cave. A figure stood there, dressed in a long blue evening coat. He was no taller than a human, but he did not smell of man. It was not a good smell at all—a nasty bitter smell.

“Who dares to approach me?” Fenrir bellowed.

“Calm yourself, my brother. I am no threat. If anything, I would offer you my services.” The figure walked into the cave, combing back his faded orange hair with his long fingers. A long, although tattered, tail of matching orange fur swished behind him, the end of it appeared to have been cut off.

Fenrir lowered his head to get a better look at his visitor. “Who are you?”

“Someone who shares your hatred of the sphinx and her little plaything. But they are easy prey. While I will delight in seeing you tear them apart, there is a prize far greater than they. You are destined to devour gods, are you not?”

The wolf curled his lip. “What do you know of me? And why do you stink of Death?”

“Interesting you should mention that, as it has to do with that prize I mentioned.” The figure smiled his rows of yellowed teeth. His eyes, once vibrant orange, were now a clouded gray, like ashes from a dowsed fire. His skin, as well, was infected with a pallor that was unnatural for a living creature—although he was far removed from that.

“You see,” the figure continued, “I was once employed to a goddess who decided to betray me and strip me of my most precious gift—my intelligence. All for her bratty little incarnation who would succeed her. But I’m not one to be misused so easily. When she put her Shade inside of me to extract my gift, I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He unbuttoned his coat and lifted up his shirt, to reveal a deep, deadly scar across his stomach, a dried ooze staining lifeless flesh. “Ripped that nasty bugger out myself, although unfortunately a few other things ripped out with it.

“Fortunately for me, someone took pity on me in my last few breaths of life,” the figure continued, tucking back in his shirt. “By agreeing to pledge myself to him, he gave me a second life…well, perhaps ‘life’ is not the correct term. But this state has its perks. Detachment of soul and body at will, for example. It’s quite fun.”

“Is there a point to all of this?” Fenrir barked, unimpressed by the stranger’s story.

“Patience, brother. You’d think you would have learned that while sitting in your cell.” The figure paced in front of Fenrir, tapping the tips of his fingers together. “My point is, we are both betrayed. We are of similar kinship, thus it would be sensible to help each other. I will help you recover your fang and get revenge on your betrayers, if you will return the favor for me.”

Fenrir let out a tired snort. “I don’t need anyone’s help, especially not from some tiny…whatever you are.”

“Oh, but I think you will like me as a friend. I can expose weaknesses in your enemies in ways no one else can. I can play upon their fears. I can shatter their minds if I so wish, while they sleep. They will be little more than whimpering rabbits, cowering before you as you gobble them up one…by….one.”

“And in return, you would want me to help you destroy the goddess who drove you to this…half-life?”

“The goddess is gone, but her incarnation holds her essence and power. It will be the most divine meal you will ever have.” The figure’s smile melted into a grimace. “Devour Nyx, the Night, and no other god shall be able to stand in your way.”

“Nyx is not the god I wish most to devour. But I hunger, and the Night would be delectable. Tell me what I may call you, friend, and I will consider this our arrangement.”

The figure smiled again, bowing to the wolf. “In life, I was called the Teumessian, son of the Great Fox who eternally eludes the hound Laelaps,” he replied, “but you may call me Brother Nico.”

 

David and Acacia waited a half mile from Moffat in a pasture away from the main road, while Gullin ran into town to find his family who, he assumed, would take refuge at Beatrice’s father’s tavern. Slepnir stood by, watching over David and Acacia as a stoic sentinel.

There were many things David wanted to say to Acacia, yet he could not find the voice to do so. Acacia was equally silent, but perhaps she was used to that, after who knows how long she had had Nyx’s Shade inside of her. Restraint from speaking had been the only way to slow the Shade’s effect, so she may have become comfortable with the silence even after being freed from the soul-draining entity.

The two sat side by side on the ground, the grass swaying lazily around them in the dawn’s wind. Finally, David broke the quiet. “Acacia?”

The sphinx gazed at David with her golden eyes. “Yes?”

David suddenly realized he did not know where to start. “I…I’ve thought about you, you know.”

Acacia nodded. “And I you.”

“Thank you for returning my dagger to me. And for the sword.”

“They rightfully belong in your hands, David.”

“Why?”

Acacia was quiet, as if she was puzzled about how to answer that. “I just…know they do. I feel it. A long time ago, I was taught that sphinxes should rely on their intuition when it comes to human matters. Even we can’t always explain how we know what we feel.”

Sphinxes have a way of knowing, David remembered Gullin saying. “Was that how you knew where to find me? You just have a way of knowing?”

“It doesn’t quite work like that. Even a sphinx has to do a little sleuthing sometimes. We’re not oracles, after all.”

“Then, how did you know where I was? Or was it Fenrir you were hunting for?”

Acacia scooted closer to David. He could tell she was trying to be reserved, but shifted her body in a manner that indicated she was antsy. “I was looking for you. David, there is something that I was shown…”

“By Nyx. The new one,” David said.

“How do you know that?”

“A witch showed me your meeting with Nyx, through a spell. He was offering you safety from Fenrir, and then showed you a vision of me killed. But I don’t think that was a true vision. Do you?”

Acacia shook her head. “I didn’t believe it for one second. The old Nyx may have been honest with her prophesies, but incarnations do not always carry the same traits as their predecessors.” She lifted an eyebrow at David. “This witch of yours is Baba Yaga, yes? That’s what the cat told me, that she brought you here.”

“The cat? Vasilia? Wait, that means you were at my house?”

Acacia sighed. “Perhaps I need to tell you what happened after I met with Nyx. Maybe you know something that can explain to me what madness tried to prevent me from finding you…”

She had had to make sure Nyx was not following her after she left her meeting with him—to throw a god off your trail is no easy task. She surmised that there had to be a reason Nyx revealed the prophesy about David to her. Maybe this new Nyx enjoyed seeing others emotionally ripped asunder, showing them the pains of the future that they could not alter? No, Acacia’s intuition whispered to her that there was something more going on. Nyx was egging her on, influencing her to take action. He knew she wasn’t going to stand by and risk something happening to David. She would either go to David to protect him, or hunt down Fenrir to stop him.

But what should she do then? Which was the action Nyx wanted her to do, and why? Before she could do anything, she would have to do her best to keep Nyx from knowing what she was up to. There had to be a way to blind his sight of her, to keep him in the dark.

No, the dark was his realm. She would have to keep him in the light, then.

She thought of Mount Helicon, where the Grecian sun deity Apollo resided with the Muses. It was a land of poetic inspiration, beaming with Apollo’s light and bursting with joyful music. A quick pass by shining Mount Helicon would disperse any pursuing Shades of Nyx. Or she could pass through the deserts where her ancestors were exiled and taken in by the lion-men tribes, for Ra of the Egyptian Sun shed his brilliance there and could scatter the shadows. She had not been to either of those places in many a century, but she trusted the folds of the Curtain to help guide her, as they had all her life.

She slipped between the hidden pockets and folds of the Curtain, darting in and out of the mists in a zig-zagging route that had effectively helped her elude predators in the past. But Shades were not limited like those with physical bodies; such evasive maneuvers might slow them down, but they could catch up quickly if they picked up her trail. She hunted for any sign of a land of light, a tear in the Curtain that would call to her with either the symphony of Mount Helicon or the rushing howls of the Egyptian desert winds.

There! She spotted a silvery light flickering in the mist, and traces of melodious voices speckling through the stillness of the Curtain. She could feel the chill of night nipping at her tail, so she flew towards the light and voices, ripping through the wind with a speed that would put fast-winged swifts to shame. It was not until she cut through the tear of the Curtain that she realized that this land of light did not smell or feel like any place she had ever been before. It smelled not of Greece, or Egypt. It did not even smell of Earth. This land’s aura vibrated with a life-pulse that beat out of rhythm with her own, and she had learned centuries ago how to correlate her life-rhythm with all of the earth. There was no description she could give to this land, and the awareness that she was in a foreign realm stung her with urgent terror.

When she cast her gaze upon this new place and soaked up the alien music resonating in the atmosphere, her terror subsided into tranquil awe. There were gardens of silver and ivory as far as her eyes could see, flakes of moonbeams dancing through the air, and rivers of liquid starlight rippling in winding ribbons throughout the landscape.

She could see this realm’s inhabitants below her, staring up at their unusual violet-winged visitor. The people were the most gorgeous creatures that Acacia had ever seen—humanlike in many ways, but fairer, willowier, each person seeming to radiate with a light of their own. Acacia had never seen angels before, but she had heard of them and seen statues of them, and her first thought was that these people must be of the heavenly breed. Yet none of them bore wings, and their ear-tips were tightened into delicate points.

Are these the Sidhe? Acacia thought. The Fair Folk from under the mounds of Ireland? But then, they would smell and pulse with the beat of the earth. Perhaps this is some Heaven after all. But I must reign in my curiosity for the time being. Surely this place will have driven off any Shades that may have been after me.

She turned her eyes away from the radiant people below, and hunted for an opening that would lead her back to the Curtain. She thought she could make out the shape of a towering structure in the mist-cloaked distance, branching out in a million directions towards every edge of the sky. But it was far too colossal to be a tree, although what else could it be…

A sudden tumble back through a tear in the Curtain thrust her into darkness. Acacia flapped her wings wildly, as she tried to orient herself and adjust her eyesight to the abrupt night. She prayed she would not crash into anything as she slowed down her flight and hovered in space. She blinked, rubbing her eyelids with her paws, and soon could make out dots of muted light beneath her. She realized, as she inhaled the smell of the city below her—the scents of hundreds of perfumes, and delicate cuisines, and horses and people and flowers and everything she knew so well—that she was flying over the human world, or more specifically, Paris.

While it may have been the Curtain that guided her there so quickly, or pure coincidence that she had emerged directly over the city that she had wanted to go, Acacia thought, My heart will always be drawn to the one who owns a piece of it…perhaps even all of it.

She remained high in the sky, out of the sight range of the Parisians walking the streets. She scanned the city landscape, tracing the roads and alleys, trying to remember which one of the quarters was the one in which to find David’s townhouse.

Why must humans make so many of their dwellings look the same? Acacia inwardly griped. But I remember, he lived not far from that grand building with the golden statues on top, the hall that plays music…the Opera! Yes, he lived a few streets away from the Opera.

The stately visage of the Paris Opera loomed ahead of her, and the memory of her previous visit—when she had left David his wedding gift on his doorstep—came into full clarity. She circled above the nearby streets with vulture-like attentiveness, until she was sure she was looking down on the one that she had been to before. She softly landed atop the townhouse, lying low on the roof as she inspected the area below. It was, fortunately, a quiet night, with no strangers pacing the street. She unfolded her wings and glided down, alighting on the ground right outside one of the windows that would give a view into David’s front parlor.

Placing her paws on the sill, Acacia peeked in through the window. She saw the finely furnished parlor, and a young strawberry-blonde woman pacing the floor. An old woman was with her, gesturing for the younger woman to sit down on the settee. There was a tea tray with a pot of steaming tea and cups, and the old woman offered the young one a cup. The young woman shook her head, keeping her gaze downcast.

Acacia recognized the young woman as David’s wife. She was pretty, the sphinx had to admit. She had a kind face, too, and Acacia hoped that her gentle appearance reflected her true demeanor. Yes, David deserved someone like that. He deserved a goodhearted wife who would take care of him, and not lead him into danger, or force him to face monsters, or deprive him of a peaceful, happy life.

Acacia realized then that her claws were bared and digging into the windowsill. She immediately retracted her claws. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. Jealousy is a human emotion. And you’re not human. No, you’re a…

She shook her head and turned her attention to the old woman. But…that was not an old woman. There was glamour there, unseen by human eyes, but to sphinx eyes, the glamour was as thin as gauze. Why was David’s wife being waited on by a cat?

A cat…this could be fortuitous. Acacia was of feline blood. This cat must be of magical stock to alter its appearance and might be more willing to answer questions from someone of similar kin than a complete stranger. Acacia bided her time, waiting until David’s wife had calmed herself, said a few words to the old woman, and wearily retreated upstairs.

As the old woman went about clearing the teacups and tray, Acacia extended one claw and tapped it lightly on the window. The old woman snapped her face towards the window, pulling her lips back into a hiss. When she saw Acacia’s face, however, her snarl faded, and she glided over to the window and lifted up the sash.

“Well, well,” the cat-woman said, “I’ve heard about your kind before, but never seen one. I’m Vasilisa. You’re the sphinx that Baba Yaga and the boy were talking about, aren’t you?”

Acacia stood up taller on her hind legs, trying to peer behind the cat. “The boy? David? Is he here?”

“No, he and Baba went off looking for you. Or someone who might know you. They talked about a wolf that might be after you, and someone in Scotland who hunts big monsters like that.” Vasilisa’s violet eyes sparkled, and she patted the windowsill. “Would you like to come in? The mistress of the house has gone to bed for the night, although I don’t know if she will stay there. Poor lady can’t sleep well, with her husband away.”

“Thank you, but I must find David. You said he and this Baba woman went to Scotland?” Acacia knew who they must be looking for; there were few hunters of monsters in the human world, and only one who lived in Scotland that David would know. “Did they go through the Curtain?”

“Baba Yaga travels by mortar, but it is fast so I would think they would be there by now. They left earlier this evening.” Vasilisa tilted her head to one side. “He is a nice boy. You’ll see that he is all right, won’t you? The mistress would be awfully heartbroken if he gets eaten by a wolf.”

Acacia cringed at the memory of what she saw in Nyx’s illusion, but she nodded. “I’ll do the best I can. You will take care of his wife until I bring him home?”

“Of course. She is a nice lady. Very sad, worried lady, but nice.” Vasilisa patted Acacia’s paw and smiled.

Acacia departed without another word, beating her wings and ascending into the night sky. She would have to find another tear in the Curtain, for flying all the way to Scotland from France would be too exhausting. She retraced her flight, trying to find the same opening that she has passed through from the land of light. Openings in the Curtain were tricky things; normally they stayed in the same spot and could remain open for millennia, but smaller ones had a way of moving around if the Curtain’s folds should deem it necessary.

Or a new tear can abruptly open up and swallow an unsuspecting sphinx whole.

Acacia yelped in surprise as the night sky of the human world blinked out of sight, and she found herself plummeting through a musty, lightless space. She pumped her wings to gain control of her flight, but she landed heavily on hard ground a few seconds later. She groaned, pushing herself up. Her whole body ached down into the marrow of her bones. Her mind was still spinning from the unexpected fall—she hadn’t been caught off guard by the Curtain since she had first started learning to navigate it. That was no normal tear that had simply shifted its place within the Curtain; it had felt jagged, frayed, and so raw that Acacia had felt a tingling painful sensation passing through it. It was as if that tear had been torn open, a gaping wound…

Squinting her eyes through the ash-laden wind, she took in her surroundings. It was gray all around, with an overcast sky, solid rock beneath her, and sparse black brambles poking up between stones. It smelled of earth, but also of fear and pain and…a nasty bitter smell…

She realized she was not alone.

Acacia staggered to her feet as slimy, maggoty shapes began to slither up from the rocks. Each wormy creature had a long muzzle full of canine teeth, beady red eyes with white pupils, and pointed triangular ears that lay back against their heads.

“Hyena worms,” she muttered under her breath. “I’ve seen many strange things in my life, but this is a first.”

“Actually, they’re the Tokoloshe,” a voice explained. “Not hyena worms.”

Acacia darted her gaze about but could not locate the source of the voice. She looked at the Tokoloshe, wondering if it had been one of them who had spoken. “Whoever said that, I demand you show yourself,” she ordered.

Laughter peeled through the stark landscape. “You demand? Still as tenacious as ever. Now, where are you off to in such a hurry? Don’t you want to play with my new friends?”

Acacia flexed her claws, lowering her head with a snarl on her lips. That voice, it sounded like…but it couldn’t be. “Are you too cowardly to come ‘play’ with me yourself?”

“Oh, I will. I have missed our little games…our witty repartee, our riddles… Haven’t you missed me, cousin?”

A tall figure formed from the swirling ash in the wind, and it tipped its battered top hat to her.

“Nico…” Acacia willed herself to remain steadfast, although her feet were itching to run. “Nyx changed her mind about taking your intelligence, then. A shame it wasn’t the new Nyx that had to deal with you. I think he would have been far less compassionate.”

Nico’s smile was so venomous, it would make cobras shudder. “Oh no, Madam Nyx was more than eager to take from me what she truly wanted from you. But that’s a story that isn’t worth recounting, since you won’t be living long enough to remember it.”

Acacia lifted her head, grinning. “Why, because your little dog-faced worms are going to do me in? Nico, even you can’t be that stupid to think I can’t handle these mud crawlers.”

Suddenly, the Tokoloshe changed right before her eyes. They grew arms and legs, their bodies fattened into stocky bodies, their hyena faces flattened into visages that resembled a cross between human and bear. They were no taller than children, but these new forms—that and the fact there were several dozen of them—cause Acacia’s fur to stand on end.

“Always a trick with you,” Acacia spat. “No honesty or dignity. You shame our bloodline, Nico.”

“Do you think I care about honesty and dignity? I must be giving you a scare, for you to resort to such words.” Nico stepped forwards, and the Tokoloshe advanced on Acacia, their grubby clawed fingers set to snare. The sphinx roared, expanding her wings and flapping a strong gust towards her attackers. Some of the Tokoloshe fell backwards from the gust, and the others halted against the wind.

Nico snickered. “That’s how you fight these days, cousin? A gentle breeze, no teeth and claws? That boy has made you soft.”

“Watch your tongue, unless you want it ripped out!” Acacia snapped.

“But cousin, you haven’t even noticed what’s tucked away in your shadow. Any fool can see it plain as day.”

Acacia paused. This could be a trick—Nico may want her to look away for a split second so he could make an attack. She kept her eyes locked on him.

Nico smirked, shaking his head. “You’ve been to see the new Nyx, haven’t you? After all, his Shades don’t pop into people’s shadows all willy nilly. They have to be planted there by either Nyx or someone of his employ. And I can assure you, I did not put that particular Shade in your shadow.”

Acacia blanched. There was a Shade in her shadow? How was that possible? She had passed through a light realm, and an exceedingly bright one at that. No Shade should have been able to withstand that. Then again, it might have adopted her shadow’s nature—vanishing in direct light, but reappearing now when a shadow could form. How else would Nico have known that she had met with Nyx, unless there really was something hiding in her shadow?

“I’ve dealt with Nyx’s Shades before,” she replied. “I will deal with this one, as soon as I am done with you and your friends.”

“Aren’t you even curious as to why it’s there? Why would Nyx have a Shade following you? I don’t suppose you were on your merry little way to find someone. Someone maybe Nyx wants you to find, someone maybe he is looking for, too.” Nico stepped closer to Acacia, and by now the Tokoloshe had her surrounded in a tight circle.

Acacia considered flying away. None of the Tokoloshe had wings or appeared to have flying ability, and Nico was as earthbound as a rock. But his scent was different than it had once been; he smelled like a corpse, but not even as nice as that. She felt there was a pinch of black magic at work here, and that could spell any sort of trouble. “What does it matter to you? Why even point this out to me? I doubt that you’re telling me all this for the sake of being helpful.”

“Of course not. But any opportunity to point out your stupidity is more than welcomed, even if you won’t remember it once I’ve offered you to my master.”

“Your mast—” Acacia did not finish, because the Tokoloshe rushed her, grabbing on to her fur with such tight grips that she shrieked in pain. She reared up and slashed at two of them with her claws. To her shock, while the blow had knocked them back—in fact, one of the Tokoloshe was sliced cleanly in half at the middle—there was no blood. Both of the creatures got back up to pursue her again, even the one whose upper half was crawling by its hands, and the lower half was an aimlessly walking pair of legs. Acacia clawed and bit and swiped, but the onslaught kept coming relentlessly. She leapt up to fly away, but the small hands of the dwarves grasped her tail and legs and held her down with surprising strength. She inhaled deeply, and breathed an air of enchantment upon them that would spellbind them to sleep. Yet her breath did not work on the Tokoloshe, not even influencing a yawn.

A realization hit her. The only creatures that her enchantment breath could not work on were those who had no ability to sleep. That would mean either the Tokoloshe were either already spellbound to remain awake—which seemed unlikely—or by nature they could not sleep. If they never slept, and they were stinking of that corpse-like smell…The Tokoloshe were of the undead. And Nico was reeking of the same smell.

Acacia squirmed as the Tokoloshe dog-piled on top of her, pinning her down. She looked up to see Nico standing over her. “You…you’re not alive.”

Nico rapped his knuckles on Acacia’s forehead. “Anyone in there? Did it honestly take you this long to figure that out? You really are getting stupid, cousin.” He withdrew a small clay jar from one of his coat pockets, and a short iron knife from another. “Now for the good news and the bad news. The good news, I know exactly how to get rid of that pesky Shade in your shadow. It will simply return to Nyx once it has no living host to be attached to. The bad news, of course, is that you’ll have to die for that to happen. But more good news! You’ll only be dead until I offer your blood to my master and he will revive you as one of his servants. I’ve already had a good fill of dragon blood to keep me animated for a time, so I wouldn’t want to drink your inferior blood anyway. More bad news: you’ll be just like me, so not really alive, not really dead. Actually, not ‘just’ like me. You’ll be a mindless minion who will obey my every order. That was the deal, I’m afraid. I get to control you myself, as long as we both fulfill my master’s wishes.” Nico scratched his chin in thought. “But I don’t think he’ll mind if I had you do a task or two for me, as long as it doesn’t conflict with his plans. For example, if I asked you to bring me your precious little plaything, so I can make you watch while I cook his carcass for dinner…No, better yet, make you eat him for dinner—”

Acacia let forth such a scream of rage that the ground trembled and the ash in the air scattered away. Her face shifted with her fury, a lioness’s vicious visage overtaking the human one. With all her strength, the sphinx pushed herself up and flung open her wings, sending all the Tokoloshe flying through the air in every direction. Nico thrust forwards with the knife towards Acacia’s chest.

One clean swipe of her paw made contact with Nico’s face, and there was a gooey ripping sound as his head detached from his neck and plopped to the ground, rolling several feet away.

Acacia was seeing a blinding red as she stared at the decapitated head. Nico’s body, however, remained standing. It got down on all fours and began feeling around for its missing body part.

“Now that was rude,” Nico’s head said dryly.

Acacia did not have time to be sick from the sight, as the Tokoloshe were coming at her again. They had morphed into a hybrid of their dwarf form and their hyena-worm form, sharp teeth gnashing and slimy writhing appendages lashing out at her. She was not about to fly away. She wanted payback. She didn’t care how many parts she had to chop

up these vicious little devils—

A halo of bright silvery light blazed in the sky, coming from the tear in the Curtain that Acacia had fallen through. The tear widened, the light burning brighter, and the Tokoloshe froze in place. They all gaped at the light, shrinking away from it. Acacia squinted to look into the brightness, and saw a figure emerging from it.

Polished leather armor detailed with pendants and gauntlets of bronze, set on a tall, brawny form, materialized from the radiance. It plunged down onto the rocky terrain, sending tremors and cracks throughout the landscape of stone. A mantle of mahogany brown fur cascaded over his back, and a crimson-and-gold helmet protected its head of moon-white hair. A silver battle-axe that was large enough to split a mile-wide island in half was grasped in the figure’s hand.

The figure stood tall, looking down at the Tokoloshe that he could easily stamp out of existence with one foot. “You look a bit small for Dark Elves. Still, twenty against one is not a fair fight. Now, twenty against one plus me…”

The Tokoloshe scrambled like frightened mice back down between the crevices of the rocks and disappeared from sight. Nico’s body had regained its head and set it back on its shoulders at a crooked angle.

“Who in Hades are you?” Nico’s head asked.

“I am the Lawgiver,” the armored man replied. “I saw this flying lion-beast pass through the realm of the Ljósálfar a short while ago, carrying a thread of darkness with her. It is my duty to keep order between the light and the dark. This darkness is unwelcomed, and must be eradicated.”

Before Acacia could question what this all was about, the figure pointed its axe at her shadow. The sphinx leapt backwards as a beam of silver-white shot out of the axe and burned into her shadow, with enough force to make the ground smolder. There was the faintest of wails, and when the light ceased, a puddle of indigo ooze was bleeding on the ground.

“Well, now I know of two ways of getting rid of a Shade,” Acacia said, her face resuming its human features. She found the armored man’s method much tidier than hunting relentlessly for a Singing Stone, as David once did to entrap a Shade.

Nico contorted his face into a gnarled façade of fury. “I don’t know where you came from, but this is between the sphinx and me! Leave now, or my master will possess you with such madness that your existence will be a living nightmare!”

The figure glanced over at Nico. “Those who walk the plain between living and death disrupt the balance as well.” He hefted his axe on his shoulder, and started walking towards Nico.

Nico blanched, and he reached down to pick up his top hat that had fallen off when his head had rolled. “No thank you, I’ve already been dismembered today, and once is quite enough.” With that, he tossed his head into the hat, and then the rest of his body was sucked inside of it. The hat sprouted a pair of black wings and flew off, vanishing into the gray sky.

Acacia sat down, winded by everything that had happened. She scanned the armored figure up and down. She noticed that the hand that held his axe was the only hand that he had—his other was missing, with nothing but a stump at the wrist. “Thank you for coming to my aid.”

The armored man nodded to her. “I happened to be visiting the Ljósálfar when you were flying through. We have never seen one like you pass through our realm. I have a keen eye for threads of darkness. Forgive me if I was intruding, but it is my sworn duty to maintain balance in matters of light and dark.”

“What is that ‘Ljósálfar’ you keep mentioning?”

“The Ljósálfar,” the figure reiterated, as if it was obvious. “Light Elves. Surely you know of them?”

Acacia shook her head. “I’m not familiar with your world, nor Light Elves or Dark Elves. But I am glad you decided to intrude. My cousin is not the savory sort. But I’m afraid I will have to bid you farewell. I have someone I need to find before he is hurt.”

The figure slid his axe into a sheath across his back. “Ah, a friend in peril? It would not be gentlemanly of me to allow a lady to wander alone when there is danger about.”

Acacia cocked an eyebrow at the man. “I wouldn’t use the term ‘lady’ with me. I know what I am.”

“A lady is a lady, whether human in body or…not,” the man said. “Admittedly, you are a strange one. I bet you have enough strength in you to rival the mighty Freya herself!”

“I wouldn’t know. All I care is if I have enough strength to rival a monstrous wolf and save my friend.” She began to pump her wings to take flight, but the man grasped her forepaw.

“Did you say wolf?” he asked.

Acacia noted the sharp tone in his voice. “Yes, a wolf named Fenrir. Do you deal with wolves, Sir…?”

The man’s cloudy eyes stared at her, as if he were angry. Acacia’s fur bristled, wondering if he was about to attack her for some reason. The man let out a sigh, saying, “So, he’s broken free. Odin help us all.”

“You know this Fenrir?”

“Sadly, yes.” The man rubbed the back of his neck with his one hand. “It would seem it was destiny that we meet. If you are in danger of Fenrir, then I must accompany you.”

“If this is part of your ‘sacred duty’ to protect a ‘lady,’ you needn’t bother. I’m capable of defending myself.”

“If it weren’t Fenrir we were talking about, I’d believe you.” He extended his hand towards her. “There’s no harm in an alliance between us, is there? Anyone in danger of Fenrir’s wrath is my responsibility, and anyone willing to stand against his might is my friend.”

Acacia paused, gazing into the man’s eyes. He smelled kindly enough, even if soaking with battle sweat, and his eyes were gentle. She extended a paw and shook his hand. “Very well. My name is Acacia.”

“I am Tyr,” the man replied. “Lawgiver of Asgard.”