Siren Slave (51 page)

She placed him in the rigging where he could easily keep Woden’s back safe. Siegfried started to say something, but she didn’t hear him. Not when the battle was calling, not when a storm was booming above. The Fomori and Aesir blood beat strong in her veins. The lightning she called to her trident was crackling too loudly.

She sprang from the wooden beam, spreading her wings, her trident leading the way. The lightning served to deflect most of the attacks against her. It sparked from the trident, forming a kind of shield around her. Of course, it burned thorough many of the assailants, but progress was not so swift. She constantly had to retreat through the air, then dive again, lest she accidentally hit someone wearing silver and green.

“That’s my daughter,” Woden said, pointing upwards. “Ah, Freya, shouldn’t you not be fighting, considering your condition?”

She gave him a big smile. She’d tell him the truth after their wedding was publicly acknowledged. “The screams of our enemies will nourish the babe. The cheers of victory later will strengthen him.” There. That sounded like something he’d want to hear about the nonexistent child. Yes, he was giving her an approving nod.

She smelled blood, familiar blood. Not Berengar’s this time, but Hartwin’s and Faramund’s. When she looked in that direction, she espied Hedwig on another of the Roman boats. She had climbed up a net on the side. Why hadn’t she used a water spout?

Freya flew to the angry waters, illuminated by the lightning and the fire from the burning arrows. She then climbed up the side of the same boat to join Hedwig, both of them unnoticed in the shadows.

“What are you doing?” Freya curled her hands curled around the thick fibers of the coarse twine.

“Well, Hartwin and Faramund are aboard this boat, so I’m trying to figure out why and…there’s one thing I really want. I’m trying to figure out how to get it.” Hedwig peeped over the edge of the deck again.

Freya followed her gaze and swallowed. “Pompey?” She remembered the Sea Witch’s reaction to him back in Folkvang. “You really want us to keep
him
alive?”

“He interests me,” Hedwig said. “Maybe because the fey don’t age. Maybe because he’s such an ass. I have no idea. And I may have made Long Hard Night with him in mind.”

Hedwig hadn’t asked for anything, but she had been there when Freya needed her so many times. “All right, let’s get you Pompey while we get Hartwin and Faramund. What are they doing here anyway?”

“No idea,” Hedwig said.

“And how did you know they were here?” Hedwig
couldn’t
have smelled them, after all.

Hedwig looked uncomfortable with the question. “I…I have a sense about attractive males.”

Pompey was yelling orders to his men, making gestures with his arms. He stayed near the railing, probably believing it safe. Little did he know that a waiting Sea Witch lurked nearby.

Freya rid herself of her tail, switching back to her armor. “Psst, Pompey.” When he didn’t hear her, she snatched a chain of pearls from her hair and tossed it at him. She missed, but at least the jewelry falling near his feet caught his attention. She had an idea. “Over here,” Freya waved an arm. “We request the right of parlay.”

“Freya? Parlay?” Pompey paused a moment before he lowered his gladius. “Your right of parlay is granted. Come aboard.”

“Whoa, that really does work,” Freya said.

“What’s parlay?” Hedwig asked. “Don’t you mean parsley? My breath is already fresh.”

Freya sighed. It was clear who was real pirate and who was not. “Anyone who wants to go onto any boat for whatever reason invokes the right. You can’t hurt the other people and they can’t hurt you.”

Hedwig shifted to her human form, the water forming into a tight purple and yellow scaled garment that revealed her long legs. Her heels, of course, were back.

Freya and Hedwig climbed aboard. Well, she flew.

“Leave your weapon here.” Pompey shouted orders for the women not to be harmed, explaining they’d invoked the right of parlay. “Come, to the captain’s quarters. We’ll have a drink and discuss.” It wasn’t as if Freya needed a weapon with her powers and the concession of the right of parlay.

“I still have my flogger,” Hedwig whispered. “If I don’t use it now, I’ll use it later.” Freya didn’t want to know.

The captain’s quarters were below decks. They were as richly appointed as Siegfried’s—heavy, oak furnishings, silks, tapestries of Roman gods. Only Pompey had couches. Strangest of all, Hartwin and Faramund sat with Pompey. Hostages were sometimes treated well.

“It seems you have something I want…and something Hedwig wants.” Freya stretched out on a triclinium couch, and Hedwig sat at her side. The room smelled of incense. Pompey rose to fetch them drinks. It was all red wine. Trier and dry. It made her think of Siegfried. She didn’t drink hers, only pretended to sip. But Hedwig pulled a bottle of white wine out of her satchel.

“Why did the two of you wish to parlay?” Pompey asked, watching the Sea Witch with interest.

“We’ll spare you,” Freya said. “If you stand down and call off your men, tell us who you’re working with, and give me back my friends. You do realize you’re fighting Woden, right? The man who is crazy enough to fight in a loincloth in a blizzard? That’s my father. My real one.”

“Woden, Hecate,” Pompey said with a shrug. Why wasn’t he impressed? “We’ve got Loki. You had me fooled when you apologized, Freya. Then Odilia showed me the scrolls. She was right to implicate you in your human parents’ murders.”

Freya went cold inside. The prior battling had abated some of her fury, but now it was rekindling. She suppressed it. “We’re offering you something better than death. You should listen, because after being around Odilia, you’ll like this. You really couldn’t have enjoyed working with her, could you?”

“She was intelligent,” Pompey said. “Loyal. On the right side.”

“No, she wasn’t, because I’m not on that side,” Hedwig said, stroking her thigh. “Who would you rather at your side? Her or me? Or Loki?”

“If you put it that way, the choice is obvious,” Pompey said, his gaze following Hedwig’s hand as it lingered at the hem of her tight scale skirt.

“I still owe you for touching my arm. I don’t think you realized you were with the Sea Bitch. You’re going to come with me. You need to be taught manners.” She licked her lips and removed what appeared to be a kelp whip with shell and coral barbs and little scaly green ribbons above said barbs. “So, that’s what we wanted to tell you, Pompey. I’m claiming my spoils.”

Pompey looked at a loss for words and began to gasp when Hedwig made her clothing transparent. “I’m not…uh, ah, too old for you?”

“I’m much older than you. If you lose your stamina, I have a nice potion. So, what’ll it be?”

“Gods, woman, I’ll go with you,” Pompey said.

“I thought so.” Hedwig rose and smashed a window with her heel, breaking the shoe, of course. “I’ve got extras. Let me get a sea beast, and we’ll go. Down nice and deep to Hedwig’s Deep Sea Caves.” Hedwig giggled at the obvious innuendo.

Hartwin gave Freya an apologetic look and Faramund grabbed her arm. She felt cold human metal burning between her shoulders. Faramund looked grim, and Hartwin could no longer face her.

“What?” Hedwig gaped.

“Consider it an exchange,” Faramund said. “You have Pompey; we have Freya.”

“I’ll kill him if you don’t release her,” Hedwig said, holding her other shoe over Pompey’s head.

“Doesn’t matter,” Faramund said. “Freya’s a much more valuable hostage. Pompey was only a means to an end. We have our end here.”

“Go,” Freya shouted. She didn’t fully understand, but she knew enough that Hedwig should get away. “Get Siegfried. Take Pompey and question him. Hartwin and Faramund won’t hurt me.” At least, she hoped not.

****

Siegfried tried to concentrate, but he was not seeing Freya. Her trident hadn’t flashed in a long time, and he was growing worried. He was keeping Woden clear of too many attackers as they cleared the ship of Romans and elves. Why had she flown away? He felt a stab of pain in his back, but he hadn’t been hit. What the hell had happened to her? Every time she was out of his sight…

“Cease,” yelled an elf above the din. The elf shoved his way through the battle on the decks of Woden’s ship, carrying a very familiar trident.

“Where the hell is my daughter?” Woden demanded, the same time Siegfried said his wife’s name.

“Imprisoned,” the elf said. “We will kill her if you do not stand down. She sits with human blades against her throat.”

Siegfried’s stomach roiled. He did something that he’d never done in his entire life. He begged. “What do you want in exchange for her? Please, just let her go.” She was relying on him to save her again.

“You want a war with Asgard, elf?” Woden demanded. “The woman is with child. Have you no shame?”

“Loki is our leader,” the elf said. “You’ve already declared war on him. Stand down, and we’ll keep her alive.”

Woden called off the Aesir, and time passed in a blur. Siegfried later vomited over the side of Woden’s ship,
Skidbladnir.
For all his enemies had tried, they’d never struck in him so vital a spot. He didn’t know where the
River Queen
was. Even if he did, he couldn’t go aboard. How could he go to the captain’s quarters? It would be empty without her warming his bed, without her laughter. Nearly every item in that room would be a useless reminder of her, of his failure to keep her safe. No, he was getting her back.

“You love her, don’t you?” Woden came to stand at his side, joining him in looking across the black waters.

“More than my own bloody life.” Siegfried clenched a fist.

“We’ll get her back,” Woden said. He didn’t think Woden really believed that.

“Nasty,” said a low voice. “Vomit in the sea.” Hedwig’s head popped above the surface. She was dragging a man with her, a very familiar man. Anger surged in Siegfried, but he waited until Hedwig was aboard with Pompey. He grabbed Pompey by the shoulder and landed a punch in his teeth.

“How the hell did she get caught?” he demanded when Woden hauled him away from Pompey.

“Save him his teeth so we can question him,” Woden said, scowling at the Roman with his single eye.

“Pompey’s mine,” Hedwig said. “I claimed him as my share of the booty or whatever. Besides, like Freya said, we should question him.”

“This is what you ask for? For your help, you want him?” Siegfried said, gesturing to Pompey.

“I agreed to go…with her.” Pompey spat blood. “The women came to me, requested parlay, not realizing Rome doesn’t subscribe to barbarian rules. I agreed to go with Hedwig, but her friends have been working with us since they discovered she had magic.”

Hedwig stomped her foot, the heel of a shoe breaking, and explained what had happened. Siegfried realized he’d stopped breathing. He’d never wanted Freya to experience that kind of betrayal. He’d kill Hartwin and Faramund himself. Gods, but how was he going to restrain himself enough to do it slowly?

“Siegfried, go, cool your heels until you can think clearly,” Woden barked. “Hedwig, you and Pompous are staying right here. Put the Greek—”

“Roman,” Pompey said.

“You think I give a fig whether you’re a Greek, a Gaul, or anything else? Just be glad you’re not dead.” Woden gave Pompey a punch to the gut that dented his armor. “I’ll show you where to put the
Greek.”

Siegfried knew Woden was right. Begging wasn’t going to work. What he needed was a plan, a good one. Freya had said all men had a price. What was Loki’s? Asgard’s throne. Siegfried couldn’t give him that.

“Wave Walker.”

He looked out over the dark water. The familiar white face of Enbarr appeared amidst the surf. There were no water spouts or leaping dolphins this time.

“Come with me. Let me do for you what I did for Bright Mane. Let me lift the burden from your soul so you can think clearly. I know you don’t feel it, but you’re not alone.”

Anything to ease this pain. He dove over the side of the ship and swam to the unicorn, clothes, weapons, and all.

****

Faramund was not saying a word. He leaned against the wall, studying Freya, wobbling occasionally with the rocking of the ship. It didn’t seem to bother him that he’d chained his own friend. At least Hartwin had the courtesy not to look at her.

“Why?” she finally asked. “You kept my secrets when I was Swan, could have told the Romans about that any time. Yet you waited until now? Loki bespelled you, didn’t he?”

“You aren’t who we thought you were,” Faramund said simply. “There was no spell. It was just discovering the truth.”

“We
are
working with Loki,” Hartwin muttered. “Don’t think that’s any better. I…I can’t believe I’m doing this. But, dammit, Freya, you chose Siegfried. I was there all along.” Freya gaped at Hartwin. This was because of jealousy? There was no spell. She’d been betrayed.

When the door opened, the two men left, leaving her alone with Loki. Loki swayed his hips, those high red shoes slapping against his heels. He wore tight hose, patterned with…pineapples? Sparkling pink diamond straps held up the strange hose, and he wore a scarf made of green feathers over his shoulders. His hair…most of it was down, raking the earth. But the rest was pulled up and tied in a large bow atop his head.

“You’re stronger than I thought not to have been crushed by Oblivion, to have learned to control it so quickly,” Loki said.

“Control it?”

“You stopped it from killing your will completely. Eventually, you could use it for other purposes.”

“But I won’t. And—wait. Don’t you rule the Jotuns?”

Loki looked at her as if she’d said the most foolish thing in the world. Or Otherworld. “No. They are too foolish. I have some serving me in Utgard, but that’s all. I have no desire to live in Asgard, not with my brother ruling. What if Woden found some way to spy on me?”

“Like you did with the mirrors?”

Loki laughed again. “Yes, like that. Although I don’t think my brother has the ability or the spells to use mirror magic. Now, your mother on the other hand… Well, who knows exactly what she can do.”