Free Crimson Fire by Holly Taylor

brows raised.
    “It was carved in the shape of Donar’s hammer,” Penda
    said reluctantly. “It was here that the bodies of the Maeder- Godias were laid to rest.”
    “Then they burned them,” Talorcan went on, “and gath- ered their ashes into urns.”
    “Why are the urns still here?” Catha asked curiously. “I would think that destroying them would have been paramount when the temple was burned.”
    “They tried to take them,” Penda said softly. “But those who even so much as touched them sickened and died. And so Asbru Hlaew, the Rainbow Mound, stays inviolate.”
    “Why is it called the Rainbow Mound?” Baldred asked. “Because it is said that this is the place where the Asbru
    Bridge, the rainbow of the gods, touches the earth,” Talorcan answered. “It is said that on Ragnorak, the Twilight of the Gods, the gods themselves will ride over that bridge and onto Middle-Earth to begin their destruction.”
    “It is further said that only one will hold them back—and that one is not even a Coranian. One of the Kymri will save the world that day, here at the Battle of Camlan,” Penda said solemnly.
    “A most unlikely tale,” Havgan said. “For why would a Kymri save Corania?”
    “Even more unlikely that one of Kymru would be alive to save us,” Sigerric said harshly. “For do you not plan to kill them all?”
    Havgan whipped around to face his friend. For a moment the two stood there, facing each other, unmoving. Sigerric’s brown eyes held both disdain and a hint of sorrow. Havgan’s amber eyes fl ashed, but subsided. Sigerric was his dearest friend, and Havgan knew that, no matter what, Sigerric would not desert him. Not ever.
    “These are old tales,” Havgan said softly, “from before the
    time Lytir came to us and showed us that the Old Gods had no power. Now Lytir reigns supreme. He will send someone to hold back that destruction—if, indeed, the Old Gods are even capable of it.”
    “You think they are not?” Penda asked.
    “Their power is long since faded,” Havgan replied.
    “Do you truly think so?” Talorcan asked softly. “You do not know, I think, of what you speak.”
    “I know that Lytir himself commanded me,” Havgan said. “I know that his power is within me. I know that I cannot be stopped. Penda, Talorcan,” Havgan went on, “tell me of the signs on the wall of the temple itself.” He turned and led them to the crumbling inner walls that brooded silently beneath the cloudy sky.
    Penda spoke fi rst. “These are the signs of the chief gods,
    those that are honored in the six festivals.” He pointed fi rst to three concentric circles within a triangle, painted in black and silver. “This is for Narve, the father of all, the God of Death. He is also called Yffr, the Terrible One, and the One that Binds.”
    “The next symbol is for Nerthus,” Talorcan said, pointing to a symbol on the wall of two half circles, one brown and one green, joined at their arcs. “She is the Goddess of the Earth, the daughter of Narve and Ostara, the Warrior Goddess. She is said to live on an island in the ocean, and boars are sacred to her.”
    “The next is for Donar, the God of Thunder. When he throws his hammer, Molnir, lightning plays across the sky. He has red hair, and both the oak and the bull are sacred to him. He is much to be feared.” Penda pointed to a T-shaped symbol painted in dark blue and silver.
    Talorcan continued. “The next sign is for Tiw, the God of War,” he said, pointing at a large arrow painted in red and gold pointing upward. “His sword, called Tyr fi ng, could only be sheathed if human blood was on it. He is the son of Wuotan and Nerthus.”
    “The next two symbols are for Fro and Freya, the Lord and the Lady,” Penda said, pointing to two intertwined symbols in white and gold. One was two triangles lying on their side, and the other was a line with two jagged perpendicular lines jutting from it. “They are the twin children of Narve and Erce,