Book 4: Arcane [Thor]

Chapter 27

Anya gave up the pilot's seat to Brunnhilde to captain their trip. The Valkyrie was well versed in intergalactic space travel more so than her and the force that Bruce spoke of they'd have to endure to pass through the wormhole wouldn't spell well for any of them. But just maybe the Asgardians' would hold up better. Which is why Bruce also took a backseat for Thor to occupy up the co-pilot chair.

"Here we go," Brunnhilde said.

The ship became turned at a perfect ninety-degree angle to successfully pass through to the other side. The clouds outside the windows were nearly as red as the Aether itself. And the debris were even more intense than any other exposed wormhole. The aircraft shook from the force, the defensive barrier on the outside activating to help them push through. Brunnhilde maneuvered through the larger bits of junk to prevent a catastrophe, though some of the smaller ones cracked against the outside. It made their position waver at times, and the climb became even more difficult to accelerate forward.

"Shit."

Bruce and Anya hung onto the bottom of their seats for dear life. The Aether expressed its displeasure at the stressful situation in an ear, and it made the young woman glance over towards the scientist. Now would be a terrible time to release the Hulk.

They seemed to hit a pocket, breaking through the force that held them back. The aircraft shot forward, the intensity throwing them up against their seats. It grew harder and harder to lift their heads, the colors of the clouds outside changing. In a way it felt like a trip through the Bifrost, but much, much worse from the black spots that began to dance in front of their vision. All of them were losing consciousness.

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Hela gathered those left in Asgard to the courtyard to face her wrath. The search for Hofund had led nowhere. More of the civilians were escaping right under her nose. And someone had turned into a thorn in her side. Someone was killing off her precious soldiers when they engaged. The queen had enough. Today, she'd get answers. Even if it meant a public execution. Fenris sat behind Hela at the top of the steps to look down on the scared people and intimidate them. And Skurge, he took his place at the base of the staircase to address the gathered crowd.

"Asgardians!" he spoke. "Some misguided soul has stolen the Bifrost sword. Tell us where it is or there will be consequences."

One look at Hela in her full armor proved that the queen wasn't in the mood for games.

"Bad ones."

No one came forward.

"Well?"

No one said a word.

Hela eyed the crowd, please by how none dared to make eye contact with her.

"You," she pointed into the crowd. Her patience had worn thin.

Two undead soldiers dragged a young woman from the crowd and threw her down at Skurge's feet. She sobbed in fear of death, listening to the executioner's footsteps approach. He hesitated, conflicted that he'd have to kill one of his own. Hela had given this position for a reason. He took it to not incur her wrath. To survive. But at what cost?

"Well?" Hela questioned. She noticed him waver in his duties. "Executioner?"

Hands clenched around the hilt, Skurge raised the Bloodaxe overhead to bring it down on the woman's neck. Even if his hands trembled.

"Wait!" a voice shouted from the crowd.

A man forced his way through to the front in time to spare her life.