shouted over the din of the fray. It was Heimdall, Guardian of the Bifrost, desperately trying to keep the Jotunn horde at bay. “Brace yourselves, and—push!”
Asgard’s soldiers readied their shields, gold glittering in the tattered sunlight streaming through the smoke. And then they shoved forward, into the Jotunns, in a clash of armor and flesh that muddied the air with clouds of dirt.
“Annabel!”
It was Mimir; he was lying in the path of the battle, just barely able to avoid being trampled by both sides as he rolled this way and that with what little power he possessed to do so. My magic came to me instantly, surrounding me so that when I sprinted for him, it knocked the other combatants out of the way, allowing me to plow through them like a bulldozer.
I snatched the prophet up just as Saga grabbed my arm and yelled, “Look!”
There beyond the roiling smoke and dirt stood the god-king Odin. The All Father. The Betrayer.
All the way on the other fucking side of the battle.
“How do we get to him?” Modi asked. A moment later, he was distracted by an incoming Jotunn and forced to fell it with his blade.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, desperately scanning for an easy way across. “Can you cut us a path?”
“I…” Magni hesitated, looking first to his brother, then Saga and Bjarni before he said, “No. Not before Asgard is overrun.”
“Leave that to me,” someone else chimed in.
Someone with a voice like thunder.
I whipped my head in its direction. There, pulling his hammer out of a Jotunn’s pulpy skull, stood Thor himself, drenched in sweat and blood and wearing a grin as wide as the gulf between us and his father.
Modi stared at him. “You’ll help us?” he asked, utterly disbelieving. Even Magni didn’t seem convinced. “Why?”
Thor snorted and hefted his hammer onto his shoulder. “Can’t a father apologize for being an asshole to his sons?”
“No,” the Thorssons answered in unison, to which the god of thunder rolled his eyes.
“All right, then—let’s just say a little birdie told me things might not be quite what they seem.” He turned partly away from us, jutting his chin at the tangle of bodies fighting for survival. “Well, make that two little birdies…”
“Arni and Magga?” Bjarni breathed, his eyes wide. Then he cracked a smile, shouting to the heavens, “Arni and Magga!”
Thor chuckled, returning his hammer to his filthy, blood-caked hands. “Come on, lads—and lady—let’s save the nine worlds.”
With a mighty swing, he brought his weapon down onto the earth, and from the thick clouds above, bolts of lightning raced to do the same.
The storm he’d conjured was indiscriminate. Bodies flew through the air, Jotunn and Asgardian alike thrown from our path as Thor cut a swath toward where Odin stood. Screams of terror and pain mingled with deafening crashes of thunder, and as we followed our divine escort toward our enemy, Odin’s eyes narrowed.
“You seem to be down a man,” Thor observed. “Where’s the Mistborn?”
I shut my eyes. If I talked about Grim now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to see this through.
“Ah,” Thor said after a time. “My condolences. You’ll be wanting to strike the killing blow, then, milady?”
I met his gaze. “I don’t care which of us kills that scheming bastard, as long as it’s me or one of my mates.”
The thunder god nodded. “Fair enough. We’re almost there. Get ready to—”
A bone-quaking roar cut him off. We stopped, eyes on the gates of Asgard, as the Jotunn locked in combat suddenly disengaged and turned as one.
“Shit,” Saga muttered. “That can’t be good.”
The Jotunns’ next cry went up as a howl, and Thor’s eyes widened. “No… He wouldn’t…”
Whatever Thor was talking about, I was certain Odin would. But Mimir filled in the blanks. “He’s given the Jotunn the power of the berserker.”
And he’d aimed them straight at us.
The Asgardians at the gates stood dumbfounded as the Jotunns on the front lines abandoned their assault, instead barreling in our direction, using clubs, swords, axes, and their bare hands to heave any obstacles—including their brethren—out of their way. They moved as a pack, like the wolves Odin had claimed as creatures of his dominion, and Thor cursed before calling out to the contingent around him.
“Asgardians, to me! Now!”
Asgard’s soldiers were quick to obey, though it was hardly an easy feat; the Jotunns who hadn’t received Odin’s gift were still fighting, leaving us caught between two fronts.
“Stay behind my shields,” I told them, raising a barrier in a wide semicircle