Free Desolate (Desolation) by Ali Cross Page B

which he could see all the worlds in the Ygdrysill.
    Please grant me access . I sent the words out into the ether, keeping the image of the wheelhouse foremost in my mind. And then I Became, willing my Halo to dominate, to mark me Gardian , in hopes the way might be opened for me.
    With my thoughts winging their way to the Bifrost, I let my body follow.
    I materialized—and found myself face to face with a warrior Gardian. His fist thrust forward and grabbed a handful of my shirt. The balls of my feet balanced on the edge of the wheelhouse, my body a millimeter from falling away, endlessly falling through space and time. The Gardian’s piercing blue eyes glared at me from beneath the shadows of his golden helm. I wheeled my arms, searching for purchase.
    “You are not welcome here, half-breed,” the man said, his voice dark with the threat of violence. “Leave, or I shall let you fall.” He loosened his fingers a hair and I felt myself lean back. My heart beat like the hooves of a thousand stallions, making it hard to swallow, to think, to act.
    “Speak, or be gone.” The warrior growled so effectively I wondered if he was not some half-breed himself, some hybrid between man and bear.
    It took some effort, but I banished the fear and made the decision to plead ignorance.
    “Heimdall has something of mine.”
    The guard hoisted me upward so my face was even with his, my toes barely touching the edge of the wheelhouse. “What do you know of the Keeper?”
    “I know nothing—save that he is my friend and that he keeps a precious artifact from Midgard in his safe-keeping.”
    “What you seek,” he grated, “is of no concern to me. Enough of this.”
    He lifted a finger from his grip.
    And then another.
    I felt myself slipping, sensed his fingers trembling with my weight.
    One more finger and I would fall.
    One more, and I would die.
    A hint of a smile darkened his face. It would cost him nothing to send me to my death. With my parentage, he had every right to distrust me.
    He leaned forward, his face inches from my own, until I could see his intent in his clear blue eyes. He meant to let me go.
    I’d never been good at asking for what I needed. At voicing my feelings. At needing anything at all. And so, on the brink of death, I said nothing.
    Instead I pictured Miri and James, Lucy and Aaron. I pictured Michael. The faces of those I’d loved. It will be good to die .
    A low rumbling sound began in the center of the guard’s body, working its way up his arms until his whole body shook with his laughter. My right foot slipped and lost its grip on the edge. I tilted sideways, reaching out, desperate for some purchase on the smooth surface of the guard’s armor.
    A sudden wave of relief washed over me, leaving a calm and peaceful sensation in its place. I closed my eyes, let my heart and mind fill with memories of Michael.
    “Goodbye half—”
    He opened his fingers wide.
    “Hold!” a booming voice thundered.
    Under an unknown power, my body froze; the guard froze—his mouth open in an angry cry, his right hand held up, fingers splayed. My body suspended over the blackness of space.
    A great sorrow filled my heart—the idea that I might be rescued seemed a sadness.
    Over the guard’s shoulder I saw a being approach. I wished I could close my eyes against the burning brilliance of the Ascended One’s light.
    As he came closer, his light receded to a muted glow.
    Aaron?
    As I watched, he became younger, his black hair flopping forward into his eyes. Piercings appeared in his lip and on his left eyebrow. He lifted his hand, gesturing to the guard, “Step back,” he said. Black tendrils snaked up Aaron’s arm, assuming the tattoos he’d worn when I’d known him as a boy on Earth.
    At his command, the guard shook himself like a dog, free to move once more. He bowed his head and scurried backward, his fist over his heart.
    Aaron reached forward and took hold of me, his hand warm in mine. He smiled in an open,