by S. T. Bende
Inga pursed her lips. “Love and War are two sides of one coin. I’m sure there’s something to their falling for siblings—hopefully, whatever it is, it’s enough to make our case.” She adjusted the straps on her backpack, then palmed the hilt of her sheathed rapier. “The trip should be fairly non-eventful, since any hostiles that survived Ragnarok will still be in recovery. But our norn friend told us to look out for Ratatosk once we hit the tree.”
“What’s Ratatosk?” It sounded way too much like Ragnarok for my taste. Yikes.
“Not what—who,” Gunnar corrected. “Lots of creatures live around Yggdrasil, but the worst one is an evil squirrel. Little jerk’s constantly gnawing on the world tree and stirring skit up. Apparently, there’s a cloister of secondary norns whose full-time job is to keep him under control.”
“Seriously?” My jaw unhinged. “After everything we just went through, now we have to fight an evil squirrel?”
“He might be hibernating.” Gunnar shrugged. “Our norn wasn’t too clear on his schedule, and it’s been real cold what with Ragnarok and all. Maybe he thinks it’s winter.”
“Squirrels don’t hibernate.” Henrik rolled his eyes. “Honestly, if you’d paid the slightest bit of attention in science class—”
“I was distracted by something much more interesting. And hard to pin down.” Gunnar’s gaze roamed up and down Inga’s body. “I needed all my energy focused on the most important subject.”
“Right.” Inga laughed. “But did you learn any better once I finally stopped rejecting you?”
“I am a god of action.” Gunnar shrugged. “Not books. All righty then, are we Bifrosting out?”
“Yes. Heimdall loaned us his horse—it should be waiting at the transport site.” Henrik pointed to the front door of the V.C. “The horse is familiar with Yggdrasil, so it can carry us in—and evacuate us, if need be—without getting deterred by the tree’s…residents.” He was totally talking about the evil squirrel. Shudder. “Okay, weapon check.”
“Rapier, dagger, nunchucks, and throwing stars in my belt,” Inga recited.
“Crossbow, blade, and these bad boys.” Gunnar flexed his biceps.
I giggled at Henrik’s eye roll. Two in two minutes—it was definitely family time. “Rapier and dagger on the belt, batons on the back, and my biggest weapon right here.” I pointed to my head, mouthing the words, genius brain to the god of action. What I didn’t mention was the secret weapon I’d tucked inside my jacket—an ace in the hole I planned to use if Gunnar’s impressive powers of female persuasion somehow failed us.
Please, don’t fail us.
“Awesome. And I’ve got the chemical tech in my backpack with our rations, plus my broadsword, and two ankle blades.” Henrik adjusted the straps on his bag. “We’re set.”
“We’re packing an awful lot for a pleasure cruise.” Inga frowned. “It’s better to be safe than sorry, but…don’t you think coming in armed this heavily might hurt our chances of reaching an agreement?”
“We can always check some of the blades at the door—if this place even has a door. But I’m not going anywhere near that squirrel unarmed. Weapon up, doll. It’s time to roll out.” And with a confident wink, Gunnar led his wife across the marble floor of the V.C. Two sets of combat boots thudded softly against the shiny surface, the sound jarring me from my vision of some pointy-fanged rodent villain. Ratatosk. Yikes.
“You okay?” Henrik’s hand on my lower back made me jump.
“Ja. Just not excited about the squirrel.”
“Nobody is.” Henrik shuddered. “It’s okay. I brought one of the sleepers—we explode that bad boy, and it’s lights out, vermin. And anything else in the vicinity.”
“And then, we what? Put on our diplomacy hats and beg for Freya’s freedom? Gods, Henrik. She can’t continue living under this restriction. It’s going to destroy her. Do you really think we can pull this off?”
“We’ll do our best. Freya’s a good egg. She deserves to have what we do.” Henrik’s palm shifted to squeeze my butt.
“Thanks for going with me,” I whispered.
“I would follow you anywhere,” Henrik vowed. “Even to the rodent-infested world tree.”
Sometimes he said the sweetest things.
“Bifrost’s here! Are you coming?” Inga’s invitation from the front door ended our love fest.
“That’s what she said.” Gunnar snickered.
Inga swatted his shoulder. “Behave.”
Henrik heaved his third eye roll in as many minutes, then turned to me with a shrug. “You sure you want him coming along?”
“Absolutely.” Taking Henrik’s hand in mine, I tugged him toward the door. “Come on. Let’s unleash your brother on the Norns.”
“And hope for the best,” Henrik muttered. “In all things.”
“Fingers crossed.” I squeezed Henrik’s hand and stepped out of the V.C.
It was time for the mother of all road trips.
**
“Get. Me. Off. This. Horse.” My hand flew to my mouth. “Now,” I mumbled through my fingertips.
Henrik gently hooked one arm around my ribs and slid me off Heimdall’s enormous mount, Gulltopp. The equine shook his golden mane, likely in disgust, as my feet hit the ground and I bent over to empty my stomach on the ashy dirt. Poor horse. It was probably the first time this had happened to him. Heimdall didn’t seem the type to get Bifrost sickness.
“Sorry,” I muttered. Henrik rubbed lightly at the small of my back. “That was just…”
“It was rough,” Inga agreed. She leapt gracefully off Gulltopp’s back, the faint sheen on her porcelain face a near-perfect match to the sea of white-trunked trees in the forest.
“The worst.” Gunnar grimaced. He landed beside me, resting his forearms on his knees. After a slow eternity, he raised his head just enough to scan the preternaturally still lake beside our drop spot.
“You gonna make it, princess?” Henrik reached over to ruffle his brother’s hair.
Gunnar lifted one hand in a vulgar gesture. “Don’t touch the hair.”
“Gentlemen. We have work to do.” Inga’s stern tone made both Anderssons snap to attention.
“Sorry, Inga,” they muttered. Henrik rubbed my back again, then hastened to help Gunnar secure Gulltopp to a nearby stump.
I stared at Inga in awe. “Someday, you’re going to have to teach me how you get them to do that.”
“When Henrik pops the question, that will be my wedding gift to you.”
“He’s not—I mean, we’re—it’s only been—”
Inga’s gentle laughter cut me off. “Someday.”
“Right. So. Uh. Oh, skit.”
Henrik’s sword was drawn before I’d finished the word. He blurred to my side with a whispered, “Where’s the threat?”
“Up there.” I slowly drew my own weapon, pointing it in front of me. There, in the limbs of a massive ash tree, sat a dog-sized squirrel. It’s red, beady eyes narrowed as it tilted its head to the side. Thick whiskers brushed against muted, grey–green leaves, and the creature released an aggressive hiss before scurrying up. And up. And up.
Good gods, how big was Yggdrasil? The world tree absolutely towered over the rest of the forest. And Ratatosk was scaling it as if it were nothing more than a pile of acorns.
Show-off.
“Where’s the access point?” Gunnar stepped forward, his loaded crossbow raised to eye level. His muscles flexed beneath his thin, black jacket, and I had no doubt he planned to tackle the squirrel and beat it into submission if his arrow missed its mark. Gunnar had a strike-first-ask-later approach to combat. Whereas Henrik…
“Weapons down,” Henrik murmured. “There are too many of them.”
“I only see one evil squirrel, mate.” Gunnar tipped his crossbow higher.
“Ja. But there’s a quartet of harts over there.” Henrik tilted his head to the far side of the tree, where four huge, heavily antlered deer chewed on Yggdrasil’s lower branches. “And the
oversized eagle up there.” He jutted his chin to the top of the tree, where Ratatosk had joined a truck-sized bird of prey. “Plus, the snakes.”
“The snakes?” Gunnar’s voice cracked. “What snakes?”
“Babe,” Inga warned. “Stay calm.”
Oh, gods. I’d forgotten how much Gunnar hated snakes.
“The snakes who live beneath the ash of the tree. Góinn, Móinn, Grábak, Grafvöllud, Ofnir, and Sváfnir.” Henrik slipped one hand into his backpack. I swear, if he pulled out a rubber snake to torment his brother…“Don’t you remember Mom’s bedtime stories about them?”
“Of course I remember her bedtime stories,” Gunnar hissed. “I had nightmares for years.”
“I know.” Henrik kept his voice level. “And since I’m actually going to need you conscious for this mission, I’ll repeat myself. Put your weapon down. We’re using a sleeper.”
Henrik withdrew his hand from the backpack. In his palm was a small, silver ball.
“Oh, that’s perfekt!” I slipped my rapier into its holster, smiling fondly at the tiny orb with the power to knock out every air-breathing lifeform in the vicinity. “Wait, did you bring the—”
“Masks for everybody.” Henrik shot me a wink as he brandished four compacted gas masks and distributed them. “Once they’re in place, we’ll—”
“Traitors.” An icy hiss pierced the crisp forest air.
The squirrel covered a third of the tree in one feral leap. It leveled its livid stare directly at Henrik, who drew his weapon. The rest of us quickly followed suit.
“Destroyers,” the squirrel seethed.
“No destroyers here, mate.” Gunnar raised the hand not holding his crossbow. “Just four friendlies, out for a walk.”
“Liar,” the squirrel snapped. “We three existed for millennia—creatures of above, surface, and below. Each in balance—each keeping to his part. Until you ruined everything.”
My heart stilled. “Excuse me?”
“You,” Ratatosk screeched at Henrik. “You destroyed the sentry. You unhinged our balance. And they are left to gnaw, to maim, to decimate.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” Gunnar’s bow was once again at eye level.
“The snakes,” Ratatosk hissed. “Look.”
My gaze dropped to the ground. Oh, gods. The earth closely surrounding Yggdrasil was transparent, providing a clear view to the three roots beneath. One led to Jotunheim. Another to Midgard. And the third, the one farthest from the ash altar where I’d heard senior members of the Æsir came to mete judgments, led to Helheim. It was that root the six snakes entombed; that root into which they’d sunk their fangs; and that root through which venom seeped, the blood-red puss slowly ebbing through Yggdrasil’s veins.
“Oh.” Gunnar’s shiver was almost imperceptible.
Almost.
“You said I destroyed the sentry? What sentry?” Henrik palmed the tiny orb. He’d already slipped his mask in place. He gave a subtle wave at Inga, Gunnar, and me, and we did the same.
“Nidhogg,” Ratatosk spat.
“You killed the dragon king?” I gawked at Henrik. “First Garm, then her father? You have got to be kidding me.”
“One, Garm was going to kill you back at the northwest compound. So again, you’re welcome. And two, I didn’t kill Nidhogg. We left him with Hel after we destroyed their crystal. You were with me. I sure as skit didn’t go back.” Henrik faced the squirrel. “I don’t know where your dragon friend is, but I swear I didn’t kill him.”
“I did not say kill, Asgardian fool.” Ratatosk’s voice carried all the warmth of nails on a chalkboard. “Destroy. You destroyed him the day you killed his daughter. He has not returned to Yggdrasil since Garm’s spirit left the realms.”
“Hey, Garm tried to kill my girl, so flicka had to go. No apologies there.” Henrik’s thumb clicked the lock on the edge of the sleeper. I double checked my mask was in place.
“I held the balance between Nidhogg and the eagle and carried their words back and forth, holding air and earth in harmony. And now our great tree rots. Because of you.” Ratatosk severed the branch above him with those yellowed razor-sharp teeth, aimed the pointed spear at Henrik, and wrenched his head down. The branch shot from his mouth to the ground, landing in the exact spot my boyfriend stood. Thankfully, Henrik had blurred in front of me a split second before impact. But even so…
The harts looked up from the other side of the tree. Anger flickered in their eyes as they angled their bodies toward the spot where the branch had impaled the dirt. They lowered their antlers to charge at the same moment the eagle took flight. If those massive talons so much as touched us, we’d be seconds away from hei hei, Valhalla.
No, thanks.
“Do it,” I whispered.
“Do it,” Gunnar reiterated, his gaze darting to the now writhing snakes at the base of Yggdrasil.
“Nighty night,” Henrik said calmly. And as Ratatosk launched himself from the tree, his furry squirrel body lining up neatly with the descending eagle, Henrik clicked the trigger on the sleeper. Both animals went instantly limp before floating gently to the ground and tucking into a deep, motionless sleep. On the other side of the tree, the harts halted their charge, folded their legs gracefully beneath them, and dropped into a resting stance. Even the snakes stopped moving, the pop of fangs releasing from the tree punctuated by the ebbing of the red puss from Yggdasil’s veins.
Everything was still. Calm.
And then the Norns showed up.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
BRYNN
“WHO DISTURBS OUR BALANCE?”
“Who silences the sentinels?”
“Who halts the blight upon our tree?”
The voices came from a void—three tinkling bells echoing across the breeze. The wind shifted as if on a breath, swirling golden dust along the pristine lake. The dust rose, converging in the center of the water. It formed a translucent doorway through which stepped three divinely beautiful sisters. Each possessed hair of golden silk, a dress of teal chiffon, and eyes emblazoned with such clarity, I had no doubt they could see straight to my soul. They were Skuld, Verdandi, and Urd.
They were the Norns.
Before agreeing to loan us his horse, Heimdall had thoroughly briefed us on protocol. On seeing the Norns, Henrik, Inga, Gunnar, and I each dropped to a knee, our fisted hands atop our hearts. We kept our heads bowed until the sisters stood directly in front of us, their silver-painted toenails stepping into the top of my frame of vision.
Since Gunnar had a special way of connecting with other beings—particularly female beings—we’d all agreed he would open for us. I waited for him to recite the speech Henrik had prepared, and crossed my fingers he wouldn’t deviate from the script.
“Your Graces,” Gunnar offered in his almost too-suave tenor. “We come in peace and, more importantly, in love. We beg you to help our goddess, Freya—one of Asgard’s most faithful servants. She has served as high commander of our valkyries, defending our realm—and all within our protection—from the darkness that threatens all lands. She has served as Goddess of Love, filling the cosmos with hope and light. She has performed her duties with the grace and goodness you instilled in her, and maintained her vow to you from the day you gifted her to us. Pursuant to your terms, Freya has never fully given her heart away. And in accordance with her promise, she remains neutral in all things.”
“She remained neutral. But now,” the tallest of the sisters breathed, “we see her with the human.”
“Even now she maintains her vow,” Henrik chimed in. “She cares for the human a great deal, and knows that choosing him over you could cost not only herself, but her realm. And Freya has always—always—put duty to realm over duty to self. But denying her heart for so many decades has drained her. Possibly beyond repair.”
“What do your words mean?” The Norn on the left tilted her head. The three sisters looked so similar, save for a few inches in height, I had no way of
knowing which Norn was which.
“They mean Freya’s hurting,” I blurted. “Hel poisoned her heart, and it took us more than a year to figure out how to fix it. And now the poison is gone, but her heart still isn’t free. It’s bound to her contract with you. She acts strong, but it crushes her to have to keep up her walls when she just wants to be free to have what she cultivates for everybody else. Being a channel of love but never being able to give herself over to it…nobody can live like that forever. But Jason, the human…when Freya’s with him, she radiates love, and joy, and life. We can all feel it. That desolation, that pain…it leaves her. She’s our Freya again…until she has to throw her walls back up so she doesn’t break her vow to you.”
“We know all of this.” The shortest Norn steepled her fingertips together. “What we do not know is why she has not made a formal request to have her restriction lifted. Freya is well aware of the terms—before we can consider a contractual amendment, a formal request must be made.”
Is she kidding me right now?
“Because of what happened the last time.” I held the Norn’s gaze. “Freya’s the toughest flicka I know. But she loved Rhylark with as much of her heart as she was allowed to share. And when she asked you to release her from her vow—to free all of her heart to love, as she so freely gifted love to others—you told her no. You said that loving Rhylark would put her realm at risk, and you would lift her restriction when you decided the time was right. So, Freya turned away from Rhylark—she turned away from love. She sank into a depression so dark, the worlds went dark along with her. Freya was abducted. Midgard fell. Rhylark was killed protecting the innocents, and my sister—”
I choked on a sob. Henrik’s palm settled lightly atop my lower back.
“My sister died in the fallout.” I blinked back tears. “It was her choice to stay on Midgard—she knew the risks of remaining in the absence of Love, but she loved being a Norn, loved serving the three of you. And she willingly gave her life to ensure the worlds remained full of light. And hope. And someday, love. Freya learned her lesson after that—she never gave her heart away—never dared ask again if she even could. And now…I’m going to lose her too. She’ll die of a broken heart, like Nanna, if she has to continue in this limbo state.”