Valkyrie's Sacrifice (Academy of Immortals 3)

Lost in the fury of battle, he doesn’t flinch or acknowledge my call.

Blood splatters across my legs and I step over a dying creature. Again, the other Hildi is attacked and it’s surreal to be here, to watch myself fight and lose.

“Armin!” I shout, only a few feet away. I reach for him, grabbing him by the shoulder, but he shrugs me off. If he notices me—even sees me—I can’t tell. His eyes are pale, glassy, caught in this repetitive limbo. As a result, I’m lost—helpless. I glance back over my shoulder to the others on the sidelines. Marshal’s jaw is set. Elizabeth’s eyes worried. Luke’s expression grim. I’m about to give up, but feel the sudden warmth run up my arm. The ring on my finger vibrates, the purple stone flickering with light.

A memory of the dream I had with Morgan flits through my mind.

Panicked, I run my hand along the front of my vest. I pull out the pouch.

“Help!” I call to the others. “I need your help!”

That shakes them from the sidelines, and they jump into action, racing across the field.

“Hold him down!” I shout. “I need his hand.”

Confusion crosses Marshal’s face but he doesn’t question me. He lunges for Armin, ramming his body into his back. Marshal’s quick—a formidable fighter in his own right—but Armin is a beast. Where is Agis when we need him?

Gods, where is Agis?

Luke goes for his legs, managing to knock him off kilter, but he bats them both away like flies. Elizabeth waves her hands, muttering under her breath. The air shimmers around Armin and the attacking men. Before my eyes, a sliver of magic binds his hands, twisting like vines. Marshal flings himself at him, putting him in a headlock, and Luke straddles him below the knees.

“He’s strong,” Elizabeth says, “and can probably get out of those binds. Move quickly.”

I loosen the strings on the pouch and dip my fingers inside, pulling out a silver ring. All three of my allies watch me with curiosity. I climb over Armin’s waist and sit on his belly. When I reach for his hand, even though he’s bound, he resists.

“Armin, babe, I need you to stop struggling.”

He looks through me as though I’m not there.

I grapple with his fingers, which are balled in a tight fist. Like the magic here knows that if I get the ring on his finger, this will be over. It only fuels me more.

“Marshal, help,” I plead. Over his shoulder I see that Other-Hildi has been attacked in the belly. The death blow. If I don’t get this ring on now, we’ll have to start all over again. Gods, will we end up in limbo with him? Repeating this over and over again. Is this our limbo?

That jolts me into action, and I pry his fingers open. He fights against me, but I manage to slide the ring on his finger, pushing it to the hilt. A jolt runs through my body and from the shiver that runs through his, I know whatever magic Damien infused in that ring has ignited.

“Armin?” I ask. I touch his cheek. He blinks, extinguishing the glassy, pale eyes.

“Hildi?” He looks around, back at Marshal who is holding his breath. “You were…” Armin frowns in confusion. “Where are we?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I tell him, kissing the ring and then his mouth. When we pull apart, I see that the field and arena have slowly faded. The cheering crowd vanished; Other-Hildi, Other-Elizabeth, and everyone else vanishes like smoke. When I look again, it seems that unless it’s another illusion, we’re on the edge of a small village.

Behind me, Luke releases Armin’s legs, but Marshal stares down at the ring for a long moment before standing and walking away.

Elizabeth whispers a spell and the binds vanish. Armin grabs me the instant he’s freed, pulling me into his arms. “I thought—I thought—”

“I know. It’s over. I’ve got you.”

“Never let go.”

I help him from the ground, and he teeters on his feet. He’s thinner, pale, who knows the last time he had something to eat. I look at the others, who appear as tired as I feel.

“I don’t know about you,” Luke says, breaking the silence and eyeing the road that leads

to the village, “but after that, I could really use a drink.”

8

Marshal