Odin's Child

by Siri Pettersen

  She tried to temper her growing panic. She’d made her choice. She couldn’t live in the forest like an animal without even knowing who she was. What she was. Was she supposed to spend her life looking for Kolkagga behind every bush, never having a place to call home? How would she live with herself when people had died for her sake? Father. Eirik.

  No, Eirik would survive. He had to.

  A gong sounded, deep and resonant beneath her feet. Every step took her closer to a pulsating center, somewhere inside the round building with the red dome. Mother’s bosom. Everyone streamed through a doorway and into a tunnel. Hirka felt like she was being swallowed alive.

  They were funneled through the dark and into the hall. When they emerged, the light was almost blinding, and Hirka had to shield her eyes until they adjusted. People were welcomed by men and women in gray tunics carrying heavy books in which they recorded the arrivals. Ahead of her, people stated their names and where they were from. Some were directed to the left of the round room, others to the right. Panicking, she looked for a way out, but by then she was already standing in front of one of the men in gray.

  She tried to tell him her name, but it got stuck in her throat and she had to repeat herself. She told him she was from Elveroa. He waved her to the right with a pale hand and she followed the others, relieved to be one of many. One in the crowd.

  Where was Rime?

  Low benches were arranged like tree rings, facing the center of the room. She sat at the back, where there were more empty seats, while others pushed as far forward as possible. Monotonous chanting mixed with the strikes from the gong, the sound seeming to come from everywhere at once. She could smell some kind of smoke. Everything was new. Surreal.

  She’d expected to see a vaulted ceiling, but it seemed there was another floor between them and the dome. The ceiling was still high, though. It was decorated with gleaming gold tiles and colorful motifs. She stared up at the details, which seemed to become more numerous the longer she looked. So many of them, and so interwoven that she wouldn’t have thought it was possible. She wished she could lose herself among the plants and people. Maybe she could stand on one of the benches in the back row and reach the lamps hanging along the wall. From there, she could pull herself up onto one of the window ledges. But even then, she’d still only be halfway up the smooth, white walls. They were also decorated with motifs, but they were paler and more difficult to make out.

  There were three aisles between the benches leading into the center of the room. Several guardsmen lined these on both sides. They stood as if carved from stone.

  How am I going to find Rime?

  A girl and her mother sat down next to Hirka. The girl was wearing a shimmering orange dress. Hirka smiled, but the girl didn’t smile back. She was holding her head high, moving it unusually slowly as she looked around, as if afraid her carefully pinned hair might come loose.

  Hirka’s body felt leaden. If she was asked to get up now, she wouldn’t be able to. She stared down at the floor. It was ancient. There were pictures here as well, made of small fragments of tile. The motif had faded, in some places so much that she couldn’t make out what it was supposed to depict. She looked along the rows of benches and saw that the motifs varied in different parts of the room. Mythical beasts, plants, words, and creatures she’d never seen before.

  The gong stopped sounding. Conversations turned to whispers as people squashed together on the benches. Hirka stared at a platform on the other side of the room. It was raised above the crowd, by at least the height of a man, accessible from steps on either side. It was empty apart from twelve chairs in a semicircle. There were three doors in the wall at the back of the platform. A large, blood-red double door in the middle, flanked by two smaller doors. That was where they’d come from. That was where they’d sit. The Council. The Ravenbearer. The Seer.

  Where is Rime?!

  She edged her way along the bench to get closer to the exit. She could still change her mind. If she didn’t find Rime, then—

  The outer doors banged shut, putting an end to that train of thought. It was too late. She’d have to go through with it, even if her courage had failed her. Hirka’s blood ran cold.

  The doors at the back of the platform opened and everyone immediately stopped talking. Only the chanting continued. It seemed more intense now, more high-pitched. People bowed as the Council entered. The benches were so low that some people managed to get their heads right down on the floor.

  Through the doors, she could see the landscape beyond Eisvaldr. Blindból. The edge of the forest-clad mountains. The Council came toward them across a narrow bridge extending all the way from the doors of the floating tower. It hung in thin air, only tethered to this world by the fragile bridge. An impossibility. The bridge was too long and too narrow to support it. It was more like a string stopping it from floating away. The Seer’s tower, held up by His will alone.

  Hirka didn’t dare swallow. Twelve figures took their places on the chairs, one by one. They seemed almost to glide across the floor in their black robes. The hoods hanging loosely over their heads were lined with gold, which caught the sunlight from the windows. The light framed their faces, making it almost impossible to see what they really looked like. Though Hirka had seen paintings of most of them, they looked completely different in real life. But she recognized one of them straightaway: Ilume.

  The red doors closed with a metallic clang.

  The Ravenbearer sat in the middle. She looked like all the others, but with the world’s most important distinction: she carried a black staff, on which He sat. The Seer. He gleamed bluish black. Larger and more powerful than Kuro. He was sitting too far away for Hirka to see His eyes, but all the same she could feel them deep in her soul. She tried to think about everything that was good and just. Everything she’d done right. Everything she’d done for others.

  I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not a monster. Where is Rime?!

  One of the people in gray shouted, “Sinnabukt, Mylde, and Hanssheim!”

  People stood in a couple places. She could see mothers and fathers hugging their young hopefuls before sending them over to the Council. They walked between the guardsmen, up to the steps, where it looked like they had to repeat their names to another person in gray before climbing up onto the platform and kneeling before the Council.

  They were all the same age as her, but they walked with their backs straight and their chins up. Excited. Some smiling. A couple of them seemed nervous and had their heads bowed, but they had nothing to fear. They were all wearing their finest clothes, and they could all bind. The only thing they had to fear was disappointment at having to go home with their families without being accepted by one of the Council’s schools, as many of them hoped to be. That was the worst thing that could happen to them today. Hirka would be happy to get out of here with her life. Rime was nowhere to be seen.

  Her throat was dry. She felt dizzy. Nothing seemed like it was actually happening. But it was real enough. She could feel the bench she was sitting on. The tiny fragments of tile in the floor. She could see the flames in the oil lamps dancing erratically.

  No one from Sinnabukt, Mylde, or Hanssheim was selected by the schools. Everyone went down the steps on the opposite side of the platform. Another person in gray waited for them there. He dipped his thumb into a dish and pressed it to each of their foreheads. They went on their way with a black mark that would fade after a few days. They had been blessed. Protected. Accepted.

  Another group was called up and the Rite played out again. Everyone went up to kneel before the Council. The Ravenbearer walked from one person to the next and laid a hand on their heads to give them the Seer’s protection from the blind. Hirka didn’t know how. Perhaps He sent the Might through the staff, into the Ravenbearer and on to each of them.

  She prayed and prayed that Rime would come. She looked around for him, along every single bench. She was filled with hope every time she saw fair hair, but it was never
as white as Rime’s. He wasn’t there.

  “Elveroa, Gardly, and Vargbo!” one of the people in gray shouted, and Hirka felt her feet tremble. She was surprised that they actually supported her when she stood. Her heart was pounding like she’d just run all the way here. She squeezed past the people on the benches and out into the aisle. Was that Kolgrim at the front? And there was Sylja, among a group of unfamiliar faces. She was wearing a deep blue dress and cloak, and a belt around her waist linked together by golden discs. Her tail was covered in jewelry and rings. Blue stones sparkled. Her hair was smooth and oiled, apart from two thin braids on either side of her face, like the ones Ilume wore.

  Sylja’s eyes swept past Hirka, but quickly returned, as if they’d been deceiving her. Her eyes widened like she’d seen a ghost. Hirka winked at her, not sure where the impulse had come from. Sylja quickly turned around again. The girl had been going over this day in her mind since she was old enough to walk, so Hirka doubted she would let herself be distracted. Even if a friend suddenly appeared out of nowhere after her house had burned down.

  They lined up in pairs and approached the Council. The Seer. Hirka’s feet walked as if of their own accord, and she had to remind herself why she was here. That no matter what happened today, a life on the run from Kolkagga would be worse. If all went well, she would finally find peace. Belong. Everything would be okay. Everything had to be okay. It would soon be over.

  A guardsman grabbed her hand. She jumped and tried to snatch it away from him, but it was no use. They’d seen her. Found her. She was going to die!

  But then a tingling warmth washed through her. It was the Might, coursing through her, feeling its way to her fear and doubt, digging deep to find out all her secrets.

  Rime!

  She met his gaze behind his golden helmet. Pale gray wolf eyes. Rime’s eyes. He was there and holding onto her. A weight lifted from her shoulders. Hirka tried to drink in as much of the Might as she could, but she was pushed forward by the people behind her. She clung to Rime’s hand, but in the end she had to let go.

  The Might lingered within her. A warm certainty that drove her toward the steps. The room felt suddenly alive, like a pulsating cage. She wanted to tear down the walls and let it loose. It was strong. It was wild. It made her thirst. She was saved! All she had to do was make sure she was among the first to face the Council.

  No sooner had that thought occurred to her than pain shot through her foot. Someone had stepped on her. Hirka saw Sylja climb the steps ahead of her and glimpsed a pair of high heels, like the ones women wore at weddings.

  It was an accident. Keep moving.

  The warmth and thirst was still there, but Hirka’s heart sank when she saw how many of the others were already in place before the Council. She had to go all the way to the end before she could kneel like everyone else.

  The Ravenbearer stood up. The black staff was taller than she was, the Seer looking down on all of them. Nevertheless, she bore Him with ease. Everyone bowed, their foreheads against the floor. Hirka did the same. The floor was cold against her skin. The Might trickled slowly and relentlessly out of her body. They sat up again. The Ravenbearer walked from one person to the next. Slowly. Painfully slowly.

  For the Seer’s sake!

  Hirka didn’t dare close her eyes. She also didn’t dare look at the Council, who were sitting only a few steps away. All she could see was the black robe out of the corner of her eye, coming closer and closer. Hirka’s blood ran cold, chilling her to the core.

  She had nothing. The warmth was gone. The Might was gone. All she had was emptiness. She was nothing. She felt her eyes grow moist. What was she doing? Why was she even there?

  The Ravenbearer laid a hand on the head of the person next to her, whispered, “Ungi verja,” which meant “Protect the children” in old ymish, and made the sign of the Seer. Then she stopped in front of Hirka.

  Hirka didn’t look at her. She didn’t dare look at the Seer either. She just stared into the Ravenbearer’s robe. It was black as night.

  “Bind the Might,” the Ravenbearer whispered, as if Hirka had just forgotten what she was supposed to do.

  Hirka closed her eyes and felt a tear fall. She knew what she was being asked for, but she couldn’t.

  “Bind the Might, child,” the Ravenbearer whispered again.

  Hirka shook her head. “I can’t.”

  The words were leaden. As soon as she got them out, she felt lighter. She’d said it. She couldn’t bind, and she’d said so. Simple as that. Time stood still. Someone coughed, but no one said anything.

  At long last the Ravenbearer laid a hand on her head, and a cold washed through her, a tingling from the Might. A pale imitation of the Might in Rime. This wasn’t as demanding. It looked inside her, but Hirka was able to hide from it. With Rime she was laid bare.

  The Might was suddenly cut off as if with a knife. The hand on her head was torn away. The Ravenbearer took two steps back. Hirka heard a half-smothered gasp, almost childlike. The other young people leaned forward to see what was happening.

  “You’re—you’re hollow.” The voice came from the Ravenbearer, but her unwavering patience was gone. This was a scared old woman.

  One of the Council stood. “Hollow?” one of the others said. Hirka thought it might have been Ilume.

  “Empty! Unearthed!” the Ravenbearer gasped. One of the other girls on the platform started to cry. Hirka opened her eyes and looked up at the Ravenbearer, at her flat nose and deep-set eyes, which were staring at her fearfully as if she were one of the blind. The Ravenbearer put her hand over her mouth. Her little finger trembled. The Seer shifted restlessly atop the staff.

  Hirka felt like she needed to explain. She reached up toward the Seer. He had to understand. Or what about Ilume? Ilume could explain. But she looked just as disbelieving as the others. Like Father when he’d realized he would never walk again.

  More councillors had stood up. She recognized another one of them now. The stranger! The man who had lied to her at the teahouse, now bearing the mark of the Council on his forehead.

  “Seer preserve us! A child of Odin. A daughter of Embla.” The Ravenbearer clutched at the staff. “The rot! The rot in Ym!”

  “Eir!” Ilume’s voice. Sharp, admonishing.

  Someone gripped the staff to help Eir, leading her away from Hirka. The words child of Odin ripped through the rows of young hopefuls like fire through dry grass. The boy sitting closest to her got up and backed away. The others weren’t slow to do the same.

  “Just let me explain …” Hirka started, but she couldn’t hear her own voice. Utter chaos had descended. People rose to their feet, some shouting, others hurrying out of the hall. She could hear the echoes of words. Words just as strange to her as they were to everyone else in the room. Daughter of Embla. Unearthed. Menskr. Rot.

  Hirka got up. She couldn’t feel her feet. It was as if she were floating above the crowd. They stared at her. Pointed. Shouted. So many eyes. Explaining to this many people was impossible. If she could explain to just one of them …

  She could hear the councillors talking loudly behind her. One of them was trying to stifle her sobs. She thought it was the Ravenbearer. Eir. The world’s holiest and most powerful woman was crying. Because she’d touched Hirka. Touched the rot. Plumbed the depths of her body with the Might.

  Guardsmen surrounded the platform. Hirka laughed in disbelief. This was ludicrous. Didn’t they understand that she hadn’t done anything wrong? This was just one big misunderstanding. She’d never hurt anyone. She saved lives. That was what she did. As often as she could. Hirka took a deep breath. The air tasted like hundreds of different perfumes and oils.

  This is a dream.

  From where she now stood, Hirka could see the entire floor. As people fled the scene, she realized that the individual motifs came together in the shape of one enormous star. The points extended all the way out to the walls. The work must have taken a lifetime. It lay there, eternal and sti
ll, as the world crumbled around it.

  The others had fled the platform. A group of guardsmen came up the steps on both sides. They seemed to be running. It was difficult to tell. It was all happening so interminably slow. Their breastplates gleamed. They had drawn their swords. Their eyes moved between her and the Council. All they needed was the order to kill.

  Hirka’s feet failed her. She felt herself falling. Falling from the rooftop in Ravnhov, unable to look away from the dark figure with the knife. Falling at the Alldjup, the weight of Vetle on her back.

  Someone grabbed her and pulled her back. They didn’t need to pull. She was happy to comply. But first she had to see Rime. Hirka tore herself loose and ran back toward the edge of the platform. People screamed and backed away, as if expecting her to bind them straight to Slokna.

  Rime!

  He stood looking at her with his helmet in his hand. His white hair spilled over his shoulders. Wolf eyes stared up at her, wide with shock. Perhaps he was thinking about all the times he’d touched her. Touched the rot. Sylja spotted him and grabbed his arm, as if to save herself from the horrifying creature on the platform. The abomination. A child of Odin.

  He didn’t react. He just stood there with his helmet in his hand, as if on a battlefield. She met his gaze.

  One point to you if you pull me up.

  A heavy blow landed on her back. Pain radiated out into her fingers and she fell to her knees. Someone grabbed her and pulled her back again before she could fall farther. Away from the people. Away from Rime. It was pandemonium—and she could do nothing to stop it. She was caught in an iron grip. Guardsmen with cold steel gauntlets. She saw red doors close in front of her and chaos turned to silence.