Heimdall awoke with a start. With Laika as a pillow, he was lying flat on his back a few yards beyond the Yggdrasil’s canopy. He looked up at the starlit sky and guessed it was just after midnight.
Bragi stood above him, kicking his feet.
“Hey!” Heimdall shouted and drew his feet out of the way. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Has anyone told you that you snore like a rabid bear in heat?”
As a matter of fact, Maggie had told him, but she’d used nicer words. He missed Maggie. “I haven’t slept in a good while, you know. Give me a break.”
“Sleep when you’re dead,” Bragi replied. “We’ve got work to do.”
Laika lifted her head and growled at Bragi as he walked away.
Heimdall sat up and spotted Frigga and Freya kneeling together at the base of the Tree. They had spread out four sets of runes—with the symbols carved into stone, painted onto shells and glass, and burned into wood—and spoke in hushed tones as they discussed the letters of the ancient alphabet. Saga leaned over them to pour two more sets in bone and fired clay onto the ground.
Heimdall rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and slowly got up to his feet. Bragi stood with Odin over a half-dozen picnic baskets spread out on the ground, trading old war stories about Frost Giants and Dragon Wraiths while they devoured roasted turkey legs, egg and vegetable burritos, fruit bars, and meatloaf sandwiches. The scene looked more like a tailgate party than preparations for the great battle of Ragnarok. Heimdall headed immediately to the food, with Laika on his heels.
“How long have you been here?” Heimdall nodded to Bragi as he rummaged through the nearest basket and lifted out an apple stuffed with peanut butter and dried currants.
“Little more than an hour,” Bragi answered between bites of his sandwich. “We’ve got the battle plan drawn out, in case you’re curious.”
“Thank you.” Heimdall glared at his brother momentarily, then unwrapped a meatloaf sandwich and tossed it to Laika.
Bragi gestured at Heimdall with his half-eaten egg salad. “Thor is moving the Vikings into position.” He took another bite, then laughed. “Kind of funny, isn’t it?” he said with his mouth full. “That the Portland State Vikings would turn out to be actual Vikings? We saw that school get founded.” He gestured at Odin. “You were incensed when they picked the mascot name, remember?”
Bragi laughed again. Odin leveled him with his one-eyed stare.
“Right.” Bragi stuffed the last of the sandwich into his mouth. “Thor has the Einherjar almost evenly divided between the two service roads that run nearest the Tree.”
Heimdall nodded and swallowed a bite of apple. “And the logging road?”
“Escape route. A reserve complement there to keep it open, in case we get pushed back.”
Heimdall shook his head. “Retreat isn’t an option. You know that.”
Bragi nodded solemnly and pulled a roasted turkey leg out of one of the baskets. “To keep Managarm from escaping, then.” He tore off a huge chunk of meat. “Is that better?”
“Much.” Heimdall finished off his apple and wiped his hands on his blue jeans. He was about to reach for the last burrito when he looked up to find four people he didn’t recognize approaching. The two teenage boys had dazed, excited expressions on their faces as they walked alongside two slightly older girls, one of whom was carrying a cat.
The foursome stopped behind Odin, and the boys practically had tears in their eyes as they tapped him on the shoulder. “Principal Wyatt?”
Odin turned and regarded the boys with curiosity.
“It’s us. Kyle Mackey and Trevor Chase? From school?”
Odin rested a broad hand on each of their shoulders and smiled. “Ah, yes. The Hooligans. Always hoped you’d find a way to redeem yourselves.”
The boys laughed awkwardly, then Kyle gestured toward the young women who had come with them. “This is Dotty. She’s a waitress.”
The blond with the ponytail bowed her head, but before she could speak, Odin reached for her hand and held up her wrist for closer inspection. Pulling her along with him, Odin turned to Heimdall and Bragi to show them the purple, three-armed knot Dotty had tattooed on her wrist.
“Valknut,” he said in mystified amusement. “Do you think they all bear such marks?”
Not waiting for an answer from his sons, Odin released Dotty’s wrist. “You are welcome here, Dotty.”
She smiled and gestured toward the larger girl with stringy dark hair, cradling a black-and-orange tabby cat. “And this is—”
“OPAL!” Saga shouted.
They all turned to face the Tree, where Saga had jumped to her feet and was pointing at the young woman. Saga rushed over to the picnic area. “You’re Sally’s friend, right? Isn’t your name Opal?”
Opal nodded self-consciously. “And Baron, her cat . . .” She let Baron down onto the ground. Heimdall stood ready to break up a fight as Laika strode over to sniff at the cat, but Baron started purring and rubbed lazily against Laika’s front legs. Laika looked up at Heimdall and wagged her tail.
Heimdall laughed. “So the cat passes inspection?”
Saga took Opal gently by the shoulders. “Where is Sally? Is she here?”
Opal shook her head. “I don’t know,” she answered quietly.
Saga took Opal’s hands into her own, but Heimdall didn’t hear any more of the exchange. Instead, he lifted his head toward the low, distant rumble coming from the direction of the logging road. Laika paced forward, eyes and ears alert.
“You hear that?” Heimdall whispered to Laika.
Bragi moved in next to him. “What is it?”
Heimdall shook his head. “I don’t know. But it’s getting closer.”
Laika lowered her ears and growled. Heimdall patted her on the head. “Easy, girl.”
Bragi reached for the radio clipped to his belt. “Thor, this is Bragi. Do you copy?”
Heimdall nodded to Odin and Saga. Saga quickly pulled Opal back toward the Tree, while Odin motioned the other three to follow him.
“Yeah,” Thor’s voice erupted on the other end of Bragi’s radio. “We’re in position. How do things look at the Tree?”
“Uh, we’ve got some kind of noise—”
“A rumble, like machinery,” Heimdall offered.
“Yeah, some kind of mechanical rumbling or something coming out of the southwest, possibly from the logging road,” Bragi continued. “Is that your guys?”
“Negative,” Thor replied. “The Valkyries have their bikes up on the service roads. Let me check in with them and get back to you.”
Heimdall stared at the trees. He frowned at the mechanical roar that was getting steadily closer, then stomped his foot on the ground and shouted up into the sky. “Cursed blazes of Muspellheim!” He looked at Bragi. “Bulldozers.”
The others all stopped what they were doing and looked at Heimdall, who was suddenly so enraged that he was amazed he could even see straight. He drove a hard fist into his palm and turned to Bragi. “Say you’re in a hurry to destroy a tree, and don’t mind razing the forest around it? You use bloody BULLDOZERS.”
“Bragi!” Thor bellowed over the radio.
Heimdall grabbed the radio and shouted into it over the sound of the approaching dozers. “Yeah!”
“I can’t reach any of my guys on the logging road!” Thor yelled back. “There’s no answer.”
Valhalla Page 51