From Ashes and Dust (Book One)

Chapter 12.2

"How creative. I haven't heard that one before." A feminine voice, laced with a Nordic accent, rang from the nearest, battered stone house.

Vatra's gaze drifted from Garmr and landed on the bare feet of the goddess, Hel.

The goddess' careful steps, methodic and seductive, passed over the muck and blood without dirtying her pale skin. Hel wore a simple cloth dress that left little to the imagination, its light grey color almost see-through. It was cut up the side of her legs, and with each step, a multitude of runes tattooed on her thighs flashed in the sunlight.

How is she not cold? Vatra thought with a frown. She shivered in her own wool coat.

Hel grinned, her full lips as pale as her skin. She stopped just short of Garmr and ran a hand through her hair. Long, blonde locks swayed just below her hips. The goddess draped her free hand across Garmr's raised hackles.

"Why did you interrupt Garmr's feast?" Hel questioned. She maintained a smile, two dimples deepening on her cheeks. The light freckles dotting her features made her look young and friendly, but her voice was a mixture of both ice and fire. She was not to be trifled with.

Clearing her throat, Vatra adjusted her grip on her godkillers. "We heard a god-"

"Ah, you came to fight!" Hel shouted. Her attention darted to Vatra's hands the moment her fingers shifted over the hilt of her weapons.

The atmosphere changed instantaneously. Hel's green eyes darkened with a murderous ferocity. The goddess took a step forward and, without breaking gazes with Vatra, she reached her arm down Garmr's throat.

"What the-" Vatra started, looking over to Spyro with disbelief before snapping her head back to Hel.

Slowly, Hel withdrew her arm. Tightly in her grasp was a godkiller of her own—the craftsmanship was unmistakable. A sword forged with a blade that could cut through anything. Hel's bloodied fingers wrapped around the hilt, which was adorned with the image of a silver wolf's head.

"What should we do?" Spyro asked. He was unarmed and appeared well aware of that fact. Spyro tucked himself behind Vatra.

"Now would be a good time for you to summon up some spirits to help us fight," Vatra whispered roughly. She held her weapons out in front of her, side-stepping closer to a path that would lead them out of the center of the village.

Garmr growled, canines flashing in warning.

"I cannot," Spyro replied.

"What do you mean?" Vatra nearly shouted, spinning to face Spyro. She was distracted from Hel, who had lunged toward both of them.

The goddess swung her blade in a wide arc, a sound like crackling thunder following the movement. Vatra grabbed Spyro and yanked him to the right at the last moment, both of them scrambling for safety.

Tripping over her feet, Vatra regained her footing and looked back at their near miss. A scorched mark scarred the earth where they'd been standing. If Vatra hadn't caught Hel's movement from the corner of her eye, they'd both have been turned to ash.

This isn't good, Vatra thought. She eyed Garmr, thankful the beast wasn't sprinting after them.

The both of them jogged down a path leading out of the village.

"We're in over our heads. Hel isn't the god I thought we'd be facing out here. Usually the gods we've been running into aren't of her status, and they definitely don't have godkillers. I don't like this at all. And why the hell did she attack us without even a little banter first? It was like she knew us or something," Vatra said through heavy breaths.