Valhalla

by Jennifer Willis

Saturday, several hours before dawn. Less than twenty-four hours ‘til the Black Moon.

  Heimdall approached carefully along the path they’d worn through the stand of Oregon White Oaks. The Yggdrasil loomed out of the darkness ahead of him. Freya knew he was coming—she could probably sense him already, even at this distance—but with Managarm scheming and the Fenris Wolf on the loose, Heimdall wasn’t taking any chances. For all he knew, the forest was already teeming with Berserkers in the service of the Moon Dog.

  Now that the Yggdrasil had swelled to nearly twenty times the size of the surrounding saplings, it was easier both to defend and identify.

  Heimdall resisted the urge to check his watch again. There was no point in counting down the minutes to Ragnarok.

  Managarm doesn’t know the Tree lies in Pierce Forest, Heimdall reminded himself.

  He walked silently between the young trees and heard a familiar “Yip!” up ahead. Laika bounded out of the darkness to greet him. She raised up on her hind legs to rest her forepaws on his chest, licking his face and wagging her tail.

  Heimdall laughed and scratched the wolf-dog behind the ears. “You’re quite the watch-wolf, aren’t you?” Wolf. His laughter was immediately replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. He grasped Laika by the shoulders. “Look, girl, I’ve got to talk to you about something.”

  Laika seemed to bob her head in understanding, then sneezed and dropped back to the ground.

  “Walk with me,” Heimdall said.

  She fell into step beside him as he continued toward the Yggdrasil.

  “There’s a wolf coming, but it’s no ordinary wolf.” Heimdall kept his voice low and started weaving his way through the saplings, on the off-chance that the Randulfr was already within range. “His name is Fenrir. Also called the Fenris Wolf, or the Randulfr. That means shield-wolf. It used to be a badge of honor to carry that title, but things change.”

  Heimdall glanced down at Laika and wasn’t entirely surprised to find her staring up at him, taking in every word. She was so focused on him that she very nearly walked head-first into a tree.

  “I appreciate your attention,” Heimdall chuckled. “But take care of yourself as well, okay?”

  Laika’s tail trembled in a half-wag.

  “Fenrir is Loki’s son.” His last living child.

  Laika whined.

  “We’ll get into all that later. I just need to you know that he’s likely on his way here. Very soon.” Heimdall stopped and looked up at the unusually clear sky, full of stars and just the faintest sliver of moon. “He means us harm, girl.”

  Laika whined again, and Heimdall rounded on her.

  “No,” he wagged a finger in her face. “I don’t want you putting yourself in danger for me or anyone else. Is that clear?”

  Laika whined again and pawed at the air.

  Heimdall frowned. “I can’t tell if you’re agreeing with me or telling me to shove it.”

  Laika did a little hop as she yipped quietly and wagged her tail.

  “Just don’t go taking him on, okay?” Heimdall started walking again, with Laika taking the lead.

  Heimdall found Freya crawling on her hands and knees around the trunk, laying her hands on each of the many pine cones and fist-sized chunks of quartz crystal that ringed the Yggdrasil and chanting soundless words. Laika wandered around the circle after her, sniffing at each of the rocks and cones after Freya had passed.

  “You weren’t answering your phone,” Heimdall interrupted.

  Freya paused and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Huh. Dead battery. Sorry about that.” She finished her lap around the circle and rested back on her heels, facing the Tree. Freya patted her hip, and Laika eagerly lay down at her side. “Pull up some pine needles and tell me.”

  Heimdall sat down with this back to the Tree and scanned the surrounding darkness. “Fenrir is unaccounted for. He wasn’t at Wolf Haven when Thor and the others got there. It looks like someone else broke him out.”

  “Moon Dog,” Freya hissed.

  “Maybe. But I don’t think he has him.” Heimdall shifted on the ground, trying to get comfortable. “If he had Fenrir, he’d be keen to boast about it.” Heimdall paused. “He called me.”

  Freya stared at the side of his face. “He called you?”

  “He has Freyr’s cell phone. Oh, and your brother got attacked by a Berserker at the dojo.”

  Freya sighed. “Then I guess it’s a good thing my phone’s dead. I wouldn’t be so cool if I’d gotten that call.”

  Heimdall chuckled gloomily. “I’ve had a couple of hours to calm down. I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy at the sound of Managarm’s voice.”

  “What else?”

  “Managarm’s got himself a witch.” Heimdall turned to answer before she could ask. “A mortal. And I forgot to bring you any food. But you’re needed back at the Lodge pretty much immediately, so I’m guessing you can pick up something on the way.”

  Freya was on her feet before Heimdall even knew she had moved.

  “A witch?” Freya stood over him with her hands on her hips. “A mortal witch? Do you mean a real witch, or some pretender lighting candles and making up chants while playing games casting love spells or calling up spirits?”

  “This again?” Heimdall sighed.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Heimdall related Saga’s possible witch sighting at Powells and the consultation with the Norns.

  Freya paced back and forth in front of him. “I don’t know which is worse—that Managarm has his hands on the Moon Witch, or that you took advice from the Norns.”

  Heimdall laughed as he got up and dusted off the back of his jeans. “It wasn’t too bad, as far as the Norns go. But you seem to think the Moon Witch is a big deal?”

  Freya picked up her bag and tossed Heimdall a thermos. “Drink this.”

  Heimdall uncapped the container and took a tentative sip of hot tea, then felt grateful for the warmth that spread down into his toes. His entire body relaxed, and the tight muscles in his back that had been plaguing him all night instantly unknotted. A sharper clarity of thought returned.

  Freya winked at him. “Ginger and licorice. And a few of my secret ingredients.”

  He drank again, draining half the thermos. “Thanks.” He handed it back to her.

  “The Moon Witch is the legendary sorcerer or sorceress of Nordic descent who incarnates about once every twenty generations.” Freya stuffed the thermos into her bag. “The timing isn’t exact. The Moon Witch is human, not a god or even a demigod, but she would posses significant magickal power.” She stepped over the ring of stones and pine cones and rested a hand on the Yggdrasil’s thick bark. “All tied to the Tree.”

  “Which is why she’d end up here, in Oregon, with the Tree. Her line would have migrated here, following the Yggdrasil?”

  Freya nodded. “Something like that.”

  “So why haven’t I ever heard of the Moon Witch before?”

  Freya smiled. “Because you were always too busy hunting and running around in the forest to bother with magick. And the Moon Witch usually ended up being a helpmate to Frigga. After last time, I honestly didn’t think we’d see another Moon Witch.”

  “What happened?”

  Freya stepped back across the circle. “The last Moon Witch died trying to get here. After narrowly escaping being burnt at the stake in Europe or hanged in the Colonies, she was caught in an avalanche trying to cross the Rocky Mountains.”

  “Oh.” Heimdall walked the perimeter of the circle Freya had set up, taking note of the runes traced in the dirt at the compass points. Thor’s rune Thurisaz for heroic effort. Othila, invoking the power of Odin and his ravens to sanctify the space. He pretended he didn’t see Hagalaz, the rune associated with Ragnarok, and moved along to his own rune, Algiz. Protection.

  “Of course, that’s assuming Managarm has the actual Moon Witch,” Freya continued. “He could just have a witch-wannabe who likes hanging out with dark c
haracters.”

  Freya reached into her bag and pulled the thermos out again. “But how the heck would Managarm get his hands on the Moon Witch?” She uncapped the thermos and shook her head. “Anyway, what’s so important for me to do back at the Lodge? I’d rather keep an eye on the Tree.”

  “Odin wants to call up the Einherjar.”

  Freya spewed ginger and licorice tea out of her mouth. “He wants to do what?”

  “And you thought talking to the Norns was a crazy idea.”

  Freya dried her chin on her sleeve. “You think I have any clue how to do that?”

  “Odin does.” Heimdall shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Freya stood still a moment, and Heimdall could tell her mind was churning through various doom-and-gloom scenarios. She took another sip of tea. “At this point, I suppose the worst that could happen would be nothing.”

  She shoved the thermos back inside her bag, then pulled out a pouch of what sounded like marbles. “We need to add these to the circle just before first light.” She glanced up at the sky, which had turned from jet black to an inky blue. “Hematite. The rays of the morning sun on the stones will activate the shield.”

  Heimdall stared at the pouch. “Okay,” he said dubiously.

  “Don’t play dumb, Heimdall.”

  “Who’s playing?”

  With a labored sigh, Freya pulled a small, silver-colored stone out of the pouch and held it up in his face. “Hematite. Stone of healing, grounding, and protection. I’ve kept these stones buried in the ground for a full cycle of the seasons, so when the sun touches them—”

  Heimdall’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and sighed at the display.

  “Odin?” Freya asked. “Managarm?”

  Heimdall shook his head. “Maggie. This isn’t going to be pretty.” He held the phone to his ear. “Good morning, sweetheart. I’m sorry I missed—”

  “You’re sorry?!” Maggie’s voice blasted through the speaker at such a volume that Heimdall had to hold the phone away from his head. “Do you think I’m some kind of idiot? Nobody has this many work emergencies, family crises, migraine headaches, or whatever other lame excuse you were about to use. If you were anyone else, I would’ve ended this a long time ago. I can’t believe I’ve let it go on even this long—”

  “Maggie? Maggie.” Heimdall spluttered into the phone, trying to get a word in edgewise. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. But if you’ve been paying attention to the news lately, we’ve got a real situation here, with transients camping out in the woods—”

  “You expect me to believe you had to stand me up for dinner, AGAIN, just because somebody set up an illegal tent or left a tin can in the woods?”

  “Well, umm, yeah.” Heimdall gestured helplessly to Freya. “What do I do?” he mouthed at her.

  “I’m way past being tired of your excuses,” Maggie complained.

  “It’s complicated.” Heimdall sighed. “There’s an evil god trying to destroy the world, and he’s let loose a murderous half-wolf creature and called up a bunch of half-crazed warriors, and I have to stay in the woods to guard the sacred Tree—”

  Freya grabbed the cell phone away from him. “Maggie? Hey, Maggie, this is Freya, Heimdall’s cousin. We’ve got a really tense situation here, and Heimdall is going to be out of touch for a few days. It truly is a matter of life or death. We need this weekend to sort it out, and then he can call you back first thing Monday. How does that sound? Thanks, Maggie.”

  Freya turned off the phone without waiting for a response, and tossed it back to Heimdall. “Are you nuts?”

  “I didn’t know what to say.”

  “Obviously. Of course, your girlfriend now thinks you’re a lunatic.” She smiled mischievously. “Mind if I listen in on how you try to explain the ‘sacred Tree’ and the ‘murderous half-wolf creature’ to her come Monday?”

  Heimdall sighed. “Assuming we actually make it to Monday.”

  Freya punched him in the arm. “Way to think positively! Now, the hematite.” She poured half the pouch’s contents into her hands and passed the rest to Heimdall. “Just a single stone between each of the quartz crystals should do it.”

  Freya started depositing pieces of hematite into the ring around the Tree. Heimdall rolled the stones around in his hand and startled at the pulse of energy beneath his feet that shot out from the Yggdrasil. With Laika following, he worked the ring in the opposite direction, dropping the polished stones onto the ground.

  An owl hooted down at them as it flew overhead. Laika’s eyes snapped upward, and she whined as she tracked the bird.

  “Steady,” Heimdall whispered.

  Laika perked up and wagged her tail expectantly, but Heimdall continued laying silver stones in the circle.

  Heimdall couldn’t get the sound of Maggie’s angry voice out of his ears. What use was it being a god anymore? So they’d found the Yggdrasil. They very well might have to lay down their lives to defend it from Managarm and his Berserkers. And then what? If he didn’t wake up Monday in Valhalla among the dead, was he supposed to go back to being an immortal forest ranger?

  “I want to tell her.”

  Freya poked her head out from the other side of the Tree. “Tell her what?”

  “Everything.”

  Freya sighed. “I was afraid that’s what you meant.”

  “Old gods used to take human consorts all the time.” Heimdall planted another two stones in the ring. “It’s not without precedent.”

  Freya stood still, watching him. “Those were different times.”

  The Yggdrasil sent out another pulse of energy that tickled the bottoms of Heimdall’s feet and ran up his spine.

  “I know you warned me about dating a mortal, but I want her to know. Maggie’s special.”

  Watching the dense forest beyond the stand of young trees, Laika pricked her ears forward and pawed at the ground.

  Heimdall followed his dog’s gaze and crouched down beside her, resting his hand on her neck. There was a flicker of movement in the trees beyond: Two figures, racing through the shadows. Heimdall jumped to his feet, and Laika started growling as she lurched forward.

  Heimdall pointed, and Freya crept forward to stand beside him. “There,” he whispered.

  Heimdall handed the rest of the hematite stones back to her and moved swiftly toward the old-growth trees, but by the time he got there, the intruders were gone.

  Laika started barking madly at some low-hanging branches. Leaning down, Heimdall pushed them back and spotted footprints in the dirt. Laika danced around him, whining in excitement.

  Heimdall sniffed at the air, tracking the direction of the intruders’ flight, when a dark shiver ran down his spine.

  Berserkers.

  A tidal wave of anger crashed over him. Berserkers daring to approach the Yggdrasil?! He balled his hands into tight fists and imagined every curse he could possibly fling at Managarm and his bastardized warriors, but he couldn’t think of anything bad enough to match this evil. He kept his feet planted firmly until the rage subsided, while Laika stamped her feet and growled beside him. Pursuing the Berserkers alone wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t be any good to Odin or the Yggdrasil if he got himself captured or killed.

  Loosening his fists, Heimdall walked back toward the Tree.

  Freya hurriedly finished placing the pieces of hematite, and she looked up anxiously at Heimdall’s approach. “Berserkers?” she whispered.

  Heimdall nodded and reached for the radio clipped to his belt. “This is Ranger 22785. I’ve had some activity here in Pierce Forest.” He tried to keep the edge of panic out of his voice as he spoke in low tones. He didn’t want to tip off any others who might be lurking. “Two people near the White Oaks, but I didn’t get a look at their faces. They ran off in the direction of the creek.”

  “You sure?” another ranger’s voice buzzed through the radio’s speaker. “They would’ve had to go right by ou
r checkpoint, and we haven’t seen anybody.”

  “They must’ve come in another way,” Heimdall lied. If the intruders he’d spotted truly were Berserkers, and if these 21st-century warriors were anything like their ancient predecessors, they would have been able to sneak into the White House Situation Room undetected. “Maybe they have a vehicle toward the southeast in sector three.”

  “Roger that,” the ranger replied. “I’ll send Fred and Eli to check it out.”

  “Thanks, Marty. Let me know what they find.” Heimdall clicked off and clipped the radio back to his belt.

  Freya nodded toward the lightening sky.

  “Once the shield activates, the Tree’s beacon will be contained. There won’t be any more energy pulses to home in on.”

  Heimdall crouched down and rubbed the back of Laika’s head. “Good girl. That was a good job, spotting those Berserkers.”

  Laika stretched her neck forward to sniff his ear, then licked his face.

  Heimdall looked up at Freya. “There’s no way that was a coincidence. Berserkers here. Shield or no shield, they know the location of the Tree.”

  Heimdall gazed skyward as the early morning constellations faded from view. “We’ve staved off the inevitable for a long time. Maybe we just got too comfortable with the idea that we could escape fate. Now destiny is knocking on our door.”

  Freya knelt down beside him. She patted Laika’s head with one hand and laid the other on Heimdall’s shoulder. “You need to lighten up.” She tapped her forefinger on his forehead. “Ninety-nine percent of all battles are won or lost right here.”

  She rose to her feet. “There’s not a whole lot more I can do here. I’ll head back to the Lodge and see if I can invent some magick to call for the return of the Einherjar  . . .” She crossed her arms over her chest. “The Black Moon is nearly here. If the Berserkers will come, let them come. Let Managarm take his best shot. If it’s Ragnarok  . . . Well, we can’t very well run from it.”

  ~ twenty ~