She nodded. “This place is a symbol. As am I. As are, at least to an extent, you.”

 

That gelled with some things Thruor had said. And some things I knew. “So, what is it a metaphor for?”

 

“Many things, but for right now, know that you cannot help the tree with what you find here.”

 

I nodded. “So, I have to go somewhere else, get what I need to help it, come back. Got it.” That did make a certain amount of sense, at least.

 

“Precisely.”

 

“Unfortunately, I seem to be stuck here.”

 

She paused at that. “There is a way out.”

 

“You know how I came here.” If I just…but if I couldn’t…I got my head back together with an effort of thought and will. “I do not know how to get back on my own.”

 

“And Old One Eye is not helping.”

 

I laughed sharply. “Which means he thinks I can get back on my own.” Honestly, that was the logic of the matter.

 

“Precisely.”

 

I realized she wasn’t going to help me. So…obvious ways out. Jump off the mountain? It might work, but if this place was a metaphor…

 

A dead tree. Stars. No water. A metaphor for…

 

No sun.

 

That was the other thing missing, and I knew it. No sun. I knew abruptly what I had to find.

 

A metaphor.

 

And I was also a metaphor, but a conscious one, a thinking and feeling being who was more than just a symbol. Although, I was not sure I minded being a symbol, for that matter.

 

A symbol of what to whom? “What happened to the sun?”

 

“You know what happened to it.”

 

I nodded. The cracked ground. The single mountain, with its cone. A volcano, of course, and the ground had been lava.

 

And the apple tree.

 

The apples of the gods.

 

This was a symbol and a test. And no, I could not fix this place, because it was a small echo of what would come if I failed my own personal test.

 

Muspelheim was dying.

 

Earth was not well.

 

This place was rebirth and if I burned the tree, I would say to them that it was time for that, that I was a danger to all.

 

If I watered it?

 

I did not know.

 

The tree stirred under my hand, as if it had the ability to move. But it looked as dead as it had before. I slowly began to identify it, though.

 

An apple tree.

 

Was this a test? Heck, was this a dream? I had vivid dreams sometimes, but this did not feel quite like that.

 

But then, if it was a dream, then I wasn’t quite normally asleep. Whatever was going on was something deeper than that.

 

“Well, tree,” I told it finally. “Looks like it’s you and me.”

 

The bark cracked a little under my touch. “Did lightning get you?”

 

The tree was dead and alive at the same time. I had no idea what to do about that, and the stars above were as bright and clear as if there was no atmosphere.

 

Maybe there wasn’t. Maybe I didn’t need it in this place. I thought of Tolkein. The dead tree and how many stars.

 

A laugh burst from me. “Silly.”

 

Fiction. This was not fiction, this was reality at some level and I had to get out and get back.

 

Then I had to…and then I got it.

 

If I went back without some demonstration that I wasn’t about to start Ragnarok I’d only have something else happen.

 

So, what? I was supposed to heal this place?

 

I was supposed to destroy it? Burning the tree would certainly be something, and it might be doing it a favor. But that would be…the part of me that was fire losing control.

 

Fire.

 

Trees.

 

But it was an apple tree, not any kind that could only seed after fire. And it was still alive. Water was what it needed.

 

Water for the cracked ground.

 

And sunlight. Nothing I could give it.

 

I stepped back from the tree and looked around, mostly for water. What I saw was a mirage on the horizon, but definitely a mirage. Just a shimmer. And it was in all directions.

 

Was I, heck, was I supposed to admit this was beyond me? Or just resist the temptation to destroy?

 

I looked up at the stars again. Then back down.

 

Water. The place you looked for water in a rainless desert was underground. Clearly I had to find something to dig with.

 

Featureless horizon. No. Not quite. Now I was really looking I saw it. In one direction there was a single mountain.

 

“I’ll be back,” I promised the tree, and started to walk.

 

I have no idea how long I was in that state before fire abruptly exploded from within me. I stretched, and the bonds of starlight shattered, but I was still in the void.

 

That had been me and not me, I understood. Or rather, somebody or something had reached out and given me a temporary power boost. Odin? My father? Surtur?

 

I neither knew nor care, but I was still unarmed in some weird dimension, perhaps some corner of the Celtic Otherworld. I did hope it wasn’t Surtur.

 

Because if it was Odin he might also have told Lugh to leave me alone. If it was Surtur, then it would only be more evidence I intended to destroy the world.

 

I looked around, then started walking towards the only feature on the horizon I could see. A single dead tree.

 

As I got closer, I could identify it as an oak, but a dead one. The odd thought that what I needed was a druid came into my mind.

 

A Druid. Yeah.

 

Fire. I pushed it down, not wanting to set the only landmark I could see ablaze. At least the tree did not, as I had more than half expected, shrink away as I approached. I was reminded of the recent Mad Max movie.

 

The dead tree. The green place.

 

A dead place under stars.

 

A barren place.

 

All of those thoughts flowed through me and mingled with the obvious: Why hadn’t somebody come and got me yet?

 

The answer? Because something more than that was going on. Perhaps Lugh had actually untied me, deciding I couldn’t get out of here.

 

No.

 

I felt not just at full strength but stronger. He had weakened me. That had been undone.

 

By somebody who had a reason to leave me here.

 

“Odin.” The thought settled me. This was exactly in his style. And it meant I was supposed to do something.

 

The soil was cracked. “I’m a fire person not a water person,” I grumbled. Water. Was that the answer?

 

I wasn’t a druid. I wasn’t a healer. I was fire and war, I wasn’t any of these other things. But as I stood facing the tree, I knew I needed to do something.

 

“Talk to me?” I asked it, or the ground, or the stars, or the air around me. Whichever I intended it for, nobody answered.

 

So, I reached out and put my hand on the dead, brittle bark.

 

I felt something stir under my palm.

 

I waited.

It felt like ropes of ice started twirling around me. I still didn’t know a name. It was a god, and not one of ours.

 

Then memory surged up through it. “Lugh.”

 

“You remember me now. I had hope you would be something else.” I saw the glimpse of silver from his hand and then my vision started to dim.

 

“You…have…no…clue what or who I am.”

 

I couldn’t believe this. But I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t escape. I almost hoped the Unseelie Lady would show back up.

 

She was better company.

 

Kanesha had gone for help. That was the only hope I had as I felt myself go down, losing grip on my sword.

 

I was held down, I was tied down. I couldn’t move. I no longer seemed, in a way, to need to breathe.

 

I knew what he was doing to me, and I knew he could let me go. I knew he wasn’t going to. I was reaching out with everything in my mind for some kind of help.
Any kind of help.

 

Then I blacked out. Or something akin to that, anyway. I lay on a featureless plain beneath silver stars.

 

I still couldn’t move, but now I knew that Kanesha couldn’t find me either. Despair flowed into me. At least Surtur might not be able to find me.
At least if the prophecy was that I would start Ragnarok, I wouldn’t be able to. But I wouldn’t be able to stop it either.

 

I wouldn’t be able to live. To love. I was going to be here forever. I was going to be here until each of those silver stars fell to the void below.

 

I didn’t hate him. I didn’t have the energy for that, and the energy to think was rapidly fading away.

 

But I couldn’t give up.

 

I couldn’t give up. It was odd how I had to place my hope in others, or maybe not so odd. Something…I understood something in that moment.

 

That we all have things we have to put our faith in. People. That even the gods are sometimes reduced to prayer.

 

That this godling was reduced to praying to and for the mortal she loved in a moment when she could not escape.

 

I could feel my bonds now.

 

They were made of woven starlight.

 

Somebody vaguely familiar, but whom I couldn’t place. I slid down and then threatened the horse with my sword hilt.

 

Kanesha must have done something similar, because hers turned and ran. Mine snapped at me first.

 

“Loki’s daughter allied with Unseelie. The rumors must be true.”

 

“Convenience only.”
“So you say.”

 

He didn’t introduce himself. Clearly, he expected me to know he was. I wasn’t about to admit that I didn’t.

 

“You’ll forgive me for not believing you.”

 

I knew abruptly that this person intended to do something to me. And probably not kill. “Kanesha, run.”

 

I could sense the power running off him. He meant to imprison me somehow, I was sure of it.

 

“The mortal…eh, the mortal can do nothing to prevent this. I will not allow you to end the world.”

 

I drew my sword. “I do not intend to. But you’ve already said you don’t believe me.”

 

Father, I thought. But it was as if my thoughts came up against a barrier.

 

Whatever he planned on doing to me he’d already started. I could feel it.

 

“Why should I, when you arrive on Unseelie steeds?”

 

I reached for fire. It answered, but sluggishly. “Why should you not? If I planned on starting Ragnarok, then why am I telling Surtur where to go?”

 

“You want all of the glory for yourself.”

 

The fire rose up around me, but it was pallid, weakened. “Who are you?” I asked, finally.

 

“You don’t know?” A pause, as if he was trying to decide whether to introduce himself or not.

 

“I don’t remember.” Maybe honesty would win him over. Because I knew I couldn’t fight this person.

 

I absolutely knew that. I also knew he was not Aesir or Vanir. But he believed I could end the world.

 

“It doesn’t matter.” He lifted his hand and my fire was extinguished as if he had thrown a whale tank full of water on me.
“It does to me.” I hoped Kanesha was clear. Hoped she could call help. I wasn’t getting out of this on my own.

 

Not this time.

 

“So, you called her?” Aidan asked me, incredulous.

 

“I didn’t feel like fighting you. You aren’t worth it.”
The Lady laughed. “Come home, Aidan. I can think of plenty of things that are more fun than…this.” She waggled dismissive fingers at the town.

 

None of the desultory looking people seemed to be watching, other than a kid on a swing, back, forth, back, forth.

 

Something about her was bothering me. She was, well, creepy. I narrowed my eyes and murmured to Kanesha. “See the kid?”

 

“What about her?”

 

“Don’t think she’s a kid.”

 

The Lady apparently heard us – pointed Sidhe ears and all – and turned towards the girl. “You too.”
The girl sighed and hopped off the swing. “Oh, come on. You never let us have any fun.”

 

“You need to grow up first.”

 

It couldn’t be this easy. Or maybe it could. I was abruptly glad I’d made her promise to return us safely, or I figured she’d be tempted to leave us here to walk back.

 

Then again, from the look on Kanesha’s face, I had a feeling she’d prefer that as a course of action.

 

I mounted. “So…”

 

“So, the horses will take you back to your vehicle. They know what they will get from me if they do anything else. I will deal with my children.”

 

“And these people?”

 

“Not my concern, but the spell should wear off in a matter of hours.”

 

I nodded, turning my horse back towards the highway. Of course, I had a feeling it was the one really in charge.

 

Although, it wasn’t as ugly a thing as I’d thought at first. It had its own…charm. As long as you didn’t think too much about the fangs.

 

“That was too easy.”

 

“I want to know what happened in Faerie while we weren’t looking,” Kanesha noted. “And I’d love to fly on the wall of her sending them back to their rooms.”

 

“So would I, but I don’t think we’re welcome. She didn’t really need us.”

 

“Maybe she planned on threatening more along the lines of setting us on them.”

 

I nodded to her, letting the horse take its own pace and route. I’d definitely rather have Asgardian horses. But, well, these weren’t bad.

 

Except for the fangs. “Be careful when we dismount,” I added. “She only promised to return us and our gear unharmed. Which means…”

 

“They can take a chunk out of us once we’ve been returned. Got it.”

 

I actually unhooked my sword and held it in my left hand as we rode, so I could dismount and get clear quickly. Kanesha did the same thing.

 

We made it back to our car only to find that somebody else was already there.

 

“Come,” she said, finally, after a moment.

 

I didn’t like the idea of fae transport, and I was right not to. Three more of the scaled, fanged, and obviously carnivorous horses awaited, tacked up.

 

“Don’t worry,” I murmured to Kanesha.

 

“She didn’t give her word.”

 

That was a point. “I do ask for a promise on one thing. That we will be returned to this place unharmed. And with all of our possessions.” I added that because it was obvious we’d have to secure our swords to the saddles.

 

“Granted,” the Lady said, with a slight smile. “If you will promise in return that you will not try to sharpen your sword on me.”

 

I laughed. “Granted.”

 

It seemd a fair enough deal. I helped Kanesha into the saddle before I mounted. She held the reins awkwardly. I made a mental note to find her riding lessons. The consort…or at least girlfriend…of a goddess really should know how to ride.

 

But the Lady kept the pace slow, or slow for these horses, perhaps out of awareness and deference to Kanesha not knowing what she was doing.

 

I rode next to her, then murmured. “Should buy you riding lessons.”

 

“…might not be a bad idea. Just not on ones with fangs?”

 

“The ones we have have wings.”

 

“Or extra legs.”

 

I grinned. But I didn’t know of any fanged horses. Other than these guys. Who no doubt would carry us into a lake and drown us if they hadn’t been ordered not to. I wondered how intelligent they were.

 

But in surprisingly short time, we were at the outskirts of a very sleepy little town.

 

I didn’t feel anything wrong, and glanced at Kanesha. If it was an area effect thing, I hated to say or even think it, she would be our canary.

 

“This place does look like it should be filmed in black and white.”

 

I wasn’t sure what they saw. Motorcycles? Ordinary horses? But the Lady rode to the very center of the place, to a village green with a duck pond that had not one single duck in it. It looked almost British, I thought.

 

“Come out, Aidan!” she yelled.

 

Silence.

 

“Want me to be intimidating?” I asked her.

 

She gave me a feral grin. “I think you don’t need to do anything to be that.”

 

Kanesha’s horse didn’t want to stand still. “Quiet,” I murmured to it, which had some effect – maybe the horse was intimidated.

 

Then Aidan came stalking out of a nearby store. He did not look happy.

 

The fairy vanished again. Figuring she would be a while, we went to a hot dog stand and got ourselves lunch. Hopefully it wouldn’t end up also being dinner.

 

“So, dwarven steel hurts and scares fairies, but not as much as cold iron.”

 

I nodded. “That might be worth remembering.”

 

“For all kinds of reasons.”

 

She was right. I didn’t generally have an issue with fairies, and I didn’t want to create one where one did not exist.

 

This time, though, I hadn’t created the problem. If he’d ignored us, I would never have noticed him, never have been remotely aware of his presence or his plans.

 

Pleasantville.

 

I shuddered. A morbid part of me wanted to go look, see what was going on, but that was a good backup plan.

 

If the fairy couldn’t convince Unseelie that we were a good neutral party. That we had no interest in the conflict between the Courts.
Which I really didn’t. Until they forced me to take sides by being assholes.

 

Well, I could make that part clear too. I finished my hot dog right as the storm started.

 

It drenched us before we could get to the car, then when I turned around…then I saw the Lady of the Winter Court.

 

“That was unnecessary,” I grumbled under my breath, but the rain, hail, and lightning had already stopped.

 

“I see the godling likes getting wet no more than the mortal,” she said in acid tones.

 

“I don’t like getting wet unless I intend to, no.”

 

She laughed. A ringing laugh. “So, why do you care about my…servant’s…affairs?”

 

“He harassed me and then attacked my consort,” I said, simply. “I was quite willing to ignore him. Heck, I probably wouldn’t have noticed him.”

 

“Fool. Maybe I should just let you beat him up.”

 

“It’s tempting. But he has led me to oppose his plans.”

 

“And you do not ally with the Summer Court.”

 

“No,” I said, with a bit of a wry half-grin. “Except that I protect mortals and have occasionally protected stray fae from fools.”

 

“Ah.” She studied me. “I see now. The Trickster’s daughter. But honorable, I suspect.”

 

“In my way.” I knew about Fae honor. The importance of promises.

 

“Not so far away from our way, from the encounters I have had with Aesir and Vanir over the centuries. You dislike breaking your word almost as much as we do.”

 

“Which is why I am not giving it.” I grinned at her. “I cannot promise we will not end up opposed.”

 

“A smart woman. And I will not give mine, but I will try and bring this one to heel.”

 

“And the mortals he is abusing?”
“No concern of mine, but I would suspect whatever harm he has done will fade with time.”

 

It was, I knew, all I would get out of her.

 

The fairy wasn’t even skeptical. “I’d imagine you can, although only as…no offense…muscle.”

 

“None taken. I don’t mind being muscle.” And if dwarven steel gave fairies pause, then, well. “Our swords…”

 

“Dwarven steel will not kill us, as cold iron can, but it causes more pain than most.”

 

I nodded. “Hence why he ran. And at the…” I grinned. “If he’s scared of us, we can use that. Chase him back into Faerie where you guys can deal with him?”

 

“We can only do so much. He is, as you guessed, of the Winter Court, and quite high in favor there. And he is controlling humans.”

 

“Is he using them to their lasting harm?” Kanesha asked, thoughtfully.

 

“Not yet, and he’s likely to be careful not to. He’s turned a nearby town into…I believe the word is…Pleasantville.”

 

I flinched. “Okay, and he’s claiming it’s all for their own good.”

 

“More claiming that he can…domesticate the humans so they cause no more trouble.”

 

“Well, I’m not about to go for this.” I grinned at Kanesha. “Besides, trouble is what makes humans fun.”

 

She mock-punched me.

 

“I see the two of you are not simply friends.” No judgment in her voice.

 

“Maybe,” Kanesha muses, “I could check out his Pleasantville.”

 

“And get brainwashed? No thanks.” I didn’t mind being muscle.

 

“Or we could just ride right into it and challenge him.”

 

I laughed. “You’re turning into a Valkyrie, with that suggestion.”

 

“There are worse things to turn into.”

 

The fairy cleared her throat. “Reversing the brainwashing is something we can do easily once he’s not actively powering it.”

 

“Do you want me to knock him out?” That would definitely count as muscle. “I wish I had a witch with me.”

 

“Eh, witches.” She smiled. “Knocking him out might work, temporarily, but he’d only start it up again.”

 

And I couldn’t kill him without cold iron. Not permanently. All I could do, apparently, was scare him and piss him off. I glanced at Kanesha.

 

“Could just stab him with a wrought iron fence.”

 

“Could. Although I’d imagine he’d have friends who’d come for some old-fashioned vengeance.”

 

“Could also…”

 

“Can’t talk to him. But maybe we, not being affiliated with either Court, could talk to his boss. Or worse, his mother.”

 

The fairy laughed. “Maybe you could at that!”

 

“Let’s try it. I mean, if we meet here, the only person in real danger is Kanesha, and she’s well protected.” I didn’t like the idea of talking to ranking Unseelie, but…