The Iron Hammer

by J. M. Briggs

  “There you are.” Nicki strode into the living room with the bag of books in hand making Alex half jump. The others were right behind her. “We told Lance and Peter that we’d give them a little time. He seemed a bit embarrassed but pleased.”

  “Oh,” Alex managed. Nicki sat down on the sofa next to her and Bran sank into an armchair.

  “You okay?” Nicki asked in a softer voice as Aiden sat down on her other side.

  “Fine,” Alex replied with a nod. “Just wanted to start reading.” She held up the book in her hand.

  Nicki gave her a searching look and Alex glanced towards the others to find a similar expression on their faces. She noted that Jenny was absent and wondered if she was still with Lance and Peter, but didn’t trust herself to ask. The last thing she needed was to call Jenny Gwenyvar.

  “Okay, so Norse mythology this time,” Nicki muttered as she picked up the first of the books they’d bought. “It’s so sad. I was in one of the biggest bookstores in the world and I could only shop one section.”

  “We’ll go back,” Alex promised though she was already flipping through the heavy used book of Norse stories.

  “I’m not sure we’ll find anything to explain the Hammer’s current whereabouts,” Bran told Alex, his voice carefully gentle as if he was worried she’d snap at him.

  “I know,” Alex admitted with a sigh. “But I just want to familiarize myself with the information. From the little I know, it seems like that it is probably the life where the myths are the most accurate. I just need to know some basics.”

  She looked down and started to read, fully aware that the others were exchanging worried glances over the top of her head. Biting the tip of her tongue, Alex fought down another shiver and focused on the words. They blurred slightly and she closed her eyes for a moment to fight back the unbidden tears. First the… panic attack and now trying to cry for no good reason. Alex wanted to scream at someone, what was going on. Was this a side effect of the reincarnation thing? Was it a bad thing that she’d connected to her other lives or was this something that happened which Morgana just hadn’t warned her about yet? It was confusing, frustrating and the knot in her stomach was getting worse. Something had changed and now there was something wrong with her.

  8

  Waking a Goddess

  Frustration was a familiar companion to Merlin, but never a welcome one. At almost three thousand years old he’d been confronted with many circumstances that angered him and left him feeling helpless. His long-standing decision to interfere as little as possible in politics or religion outside of the lifetimes of the Iron Soul often made him grumble to himself when he disliked the current leaders or despaired over the ability of normal humans to remember history. This frustration, the sort that came from ignorance was the worst. He didn’t have to feel it often, but it seemed that since the newest generation of mages had arisen that he’d been feeling it more than he had in the last century.

  He pushed the thoughts away, unsure of what to do with them now. When he found the Iron Hammer and returned to Ravenslake he could sit down with Morgana and a cup of tea and have a long overdue chat. One of those uncomfortable times to lay everything bare to each other was coming up quickly, he could feel it.

  The terrain dipped before him, forming a small basin among the ridges. A small lake or perhaps a large pond filled the lowest area. He hesitated for a moment, reminding himself that she might not even be sleeping here anymore. Yet he forced himself to keep walking and followed a small trail down to the edge of the water.

  Merlin paused in front of the small lake, his hand tightening around his walking stick. The water was calm with only the slightest ripple on the surface from the small trickle of water feeding it and the wind. His eyes searched the water though he knew it was silly. The Old Ones were beings made up of energy and that energy spread out while they slept. There was nothing to see in the water until she woke.

  Raising his left hand in front of him, Merlin tightened it into a fist and exhaled slowly. He pulled on the familiar spark of magic. The power of the Iron Realm rushed through him, being fed by the ground below his feet and the air all around him. There was another moment of hesitation. Perhaps he should wait and return to Ravenslake. Alex and Bran had been able to locate the Iron Chalice and perhaps they could find the Iron Hammer. Then again, the skull of Bran’s prior life had been with the Chalice to make certain they’d find it.

  “Blast the magic keeping these things hidden,” Merlin grumbled to himself.

  He opened his hand and let the magic rush out across the water. The green sparks formed a mist above the surface of the lake and then slowly sank into the water, sending tiny ripples across it. Stepping back, Merlin tried not to shift as he waited, but it was difficult. Minutes ticked by without any sign of Sif and Merlin licked his lips as his nerves began to fray.

  Just when he was debating turning around and leaving, backtracking to see if he had come to the wrong spot, the surface of the water began to shimmer anew. There was no rush of water and for that Merlin was grateful. Sif and others of her kind merely slept in the waters of the world to keep themselves pure, none had bonded themselves with it as completely as Cyrridven. Merlin’s chest tightened at the memory of his mentor, wishing that he’d had a chance to speak with her and thank her. He’d never thanked her enough, but he supposed that was normal.

  Sif’s form did not rise from the lake, but rather tiny pricks of light appeared on the surface as if they had bubbled up from below. They glittered for a moment and then swirled into the air and like flakes of metal drawn to a magnet they all gathered together above the water. Merlin watched with detachment as a female form began to take shape. The lights dimmed and colors appeared as Sif’s long golden hair solidified.

  She was unchanged. Sif’s long hair was in a braid that hung over one shoulder and she was dressed in a simple white gown with a small golden circlet around her head. There was a glow about her that marked her as something distinct. Her skin was rosy but lacked the darker bronze hue of Cyrridven or the absolute black of Chernobog’s. She almost looked human and was regarding him with surprise.

  “Merlin?” she greeted as her eyes scanned the area around him. “I- it is good to see you,” she said. “I’m surprised to see you,” Sif admitted a moment later. “Are you well?”

  “I am,” Merlin replied with a nod. “Morgana is not with me, but she is in good health.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Thor’s hammer is missing,” he announced, forcing himself to get it over with. “I’m hoping that you took it.”

  Sif’s pale face would have reddened with anger if she’d been human. Her green eyes widened only to narrow at him a moment later as her lips pressed together. Merlin stepped back instinctively, wondering if he was about to see the temper that Thor always swore she had.

  “Missing,” Sif repeated in a low tight voice. “What do you mean, Merlin?” The accusation in her voice half echoed in the small valley

  “It is no longer in the cavern,” Merlin confessed. A nervous knot formed at the base of his spine. “I take it that you have not removed it then.” The last flicker of hope he’d been holding onto vanishing.

  “No,” Sif all but spat at him. “I don’t have the Hammer nor do I know where it is.” She set her eyes on him and frowned. “If you recall Merlin, I wanted it to stay with me.”

  “I know,” Merlin agreed quickly. “But at the time we agreed that having it in the tunnels where another Iron Soul could access it was for the best. The Dvergr were able to watch over it.”

  “The Dvergr have been dead for years and humans dig below the surface.” Sif looked out across the rocky landscape. “We can hope it is in the possession of humans.”

  “Most likely,” Merlin replied, aware that he didn’t sound very confident. “The Sídhe have not made any sign that they have it.”

  “One of my kind may have it.” Sif raised an eyebrow and gave him a harsh look that made Merlin miss the y
ounger Sif who had been much calmer and quieter. Thor had been a terrible influence on her. “Just to be safe I will wake my trustworthy family members. We will make inquiries.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Merlin protested only to receive another look.

  “The Iron Hammer was created by the mortal man I chose to marry,” Sif snapped. “I allowed you to decide its hiding place against my better judgment.”

  “Respectfully, Sif,” Merlin cut in. “It never belonged to you. It was an artifact of the Iron Soul and belongs to them in all lives.”

  They stared at each other. Merlin could almost feel the irritation rolling off of her, but then he sensed her surrender. She could be mad, but apparently, Sif still had enough sense to know it wasn’t really him she was angry at. Merlin almost sighed in relief but kept his facial features calm.

  “Then we should stop arguing and make sure that it finds its way back to the Iron Soul.” Sif said a moment later and shook her head. “Is there anything else I should be aware of, Merlin?”

  “Humans have changed a lot.”

  “I’ve been dreaming of the world,” Sif assured him with a tiny smile. “The rise in magic had already begun to wake me, but you already knew that.”

  “Still I think the technology may throw you a bit,” Merlin told her before pausing. “Your family is rather popular in human memory.” Sif smiled at that which made more of the younger Sif shine through. She nodded and visibly relaxed. “Otherwise… well, there have many battles since you and your family went into the water.”

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t help,” Sif apologized.

  “Don’t be,” Merlin said. “It is important that your people remained uncorrupted by the Iron Realm. We don’t need more insane Old Ones.” He shook his head. “Honestly even after all this time I’m never sure what I’m going to experience with your kind.”

  “That’s fair I suppose,” Sif agreed though she looked a bit insulted. “Yet remember, Merlin, that while many were exiled here, for some of us it is the only home we have ever had even if it does not always welcome us as I wish it would.”

  There was a long moment of silence and Merlin nodded his understanding. “That’s fair,” he finally agreed. “I should not cast aspersions on you and your family. My own nature is only half human.”

  “You have done well for the Iron Realm,” Sif assured him as if sensing the change in his mood. “What other news is there, Merlin? What more should I know and alert my family to?”

  “Cyrridven is dead.” Merlin lowered himself onto the shore and stretched out his legs as the joints protested the hike. He just felt old and groaned slightly as Sif gasped in horror.

  “What?” Sif demanded with wide eyes. “When? How?”

  “Recently I’m afraid, only a few months ago. Chernobog woke, his insanity was as strong as ever and he went after the Iron Soul. Cyrridven intervened to save her and-”

  “Her?” Sif cut in, tilting her head curiously. “The Iron Soul is female?”

  “Indeed, in this life, it is,” Merlin agreed with a small smile. “The first female incarnation as far as I know.”

  “About time.”

  “You sound like Morgana,” Merlin said. “Her name is Alexandra Adams though she goes by Alex. A talented girl with interesting powers, but I’m a bit worried about some of the things occurring around her.”

  “From what I have seen the life of an Iron Soul is always strange,” Sif said. Her expression softened and turned sad.

  “That would be fair,” Merlin agreed carefully. “Alex is a good girl. I dare say that you would like her.”

  “And what is the threat?” Sif asked. “Chernobog?”

  “No, Alex was able to destroy him.” Satisfaction flashed through Merlin at the way Sif’s eyes widened in surprise and maybe a touch of awe. “I’m afraid that our ancient enemies the Sídhe have returned.” He held up a hand to stop the question he knew was coming. “And no the magic of the original Iron Gates has decayed to the point that they are coming through untainted. The Dark Elves have not risen again.”

  “I see, but surely in the modern era making new Iron Gates is not a challenge.” Sif folded her hands in front of her.

  “There is a… complication,” Merlin replied, unsure of how he could even begin to explain Arthur. “The old Sídhe Queen Scáthbás survived in the magic of the Iron Gates, I still don’t understand how, but she has created a half Sídhe-half human being similar to Morgana and myself. He has proven to be a vicious enemy and knows a great deal about us.”

  Merlin settled with that, unable to confess how badly he and Morgana had erred in assuming that Arthur Pendred was the current Iron Soul. Just the reminder that he’d once been certain that the strong handsome young man had been Arto’s reincarnation made him feel ill thanks to his current knowledge of what the boy was truly like. Sif must have sensed something was wrong because she gave him a long searching look as they fell into silence.

  “Anyway.” Merlin coughed when her gaze became too heavy and started reminding him too much of Morgana’s. “I’m afraid that Scáthbás is using another artifact of the Iron Soul to bind the various creatures of her branch of the Tree of Reality to her will. I was seeking the Iron Hammer to break that connection.”

  “What artifact would have such a power?” Sif asked him with a frown. “That does not sound like Thor at all.”

  “It was an accidental creation,” Merlin offered with a forced, almost painful chuckle. “I’m afraid that Morgana and I were not even aware of that life as there was no magical threat.”

  “I shall join you in seeking Mjǫllnir,” Sif said. “My father still considers Thor family and we will not allow his artifact to fall into the wrong hands.”

  “Thank you Sif,” Merlin replied gratefully. “The current center of magic is Ravenslake, a town in Oregon in America. I trust you can find it?”

  Sif raised an eyebrow at him and smirked, “Our Vikings were the first Europeans to find that land, Merlin. I’m sure that I can manage.” She paused and eyed him carefully. “Where will you go now?”

  “Back to England,” Merlin found himself replying honestly. “There is something I need to retrieve.”

  “What?” Sif asked in a sharper tone.

  “Something that I never thought I’d need.” Merlin met her calm green eyes, surprised at the hint of defeat in his voice. Shaking his head, Merlin cleared his throat and added, “Take care Sif. I appreciate your help.”

  He turned quickly and walked away, pleased when the Old One did not call after him. Those words must have inspired questions and yet she was giving him space. The tightness in his lungs eased even as his grip on his walking stick became so hard that his hand ached. As he climbed up the slope of the hill, he heard a rush of water and turned back to see a spinning whirlpool forming in the air.

  Merlin stopped and watched Sif leap into the water and vanish from sight, leaving him alone in the quiet countryside. He exhaled slowly and gave himself a moment, feeling the ache in his bones. The years were all pressing down on him and he debated the words he’d said to Sif. They filled him with dread, but it indeed seemed like it was time to return to England and recover the cache.

  9

  Svartalfheim

  116 C.E. Sør-Trøndelag, Norway

  It was a beautiful morning. The sun was already rising as last night’s rain settled into the soil. The world smelled fresh and it was almost enough to make Thor forget that they were going back into the Dark Elf tunnels. Almost, but there was a cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck. He was leaning against one of the larger boulders by their meeting point, torn between impatience and nervousness. Part of him wanted to get this mission over with while the other feared going underground again. Thor shuddered at the very idea and tried to calm his suddenly racing heart.

  His hand brushed the hammer and Thor paused as a spark of magic run up his arm. It was enough to distract him and he looked down at the heavy loop on his belt that held the magical ha
mmer. So far it had been a strange adjustment to carrying around his hammer like he would a sword, but there was a sense of rightness to the weight that surprised him. Thor looked back at Morgana and Merlin before pulling the hammer from its resting place and hefting it thoughtfully.

  Thor pushed a tiny trickle of magic into the hammer and it hummed a sweet tune that settled in his bones in response. Grinning, Thor watched as the small jolts of lightning jumped over the surface of his hammer. Thor eyed a nearby large rock that had fallen off the cliff side. A dangerous thought was running through his head and he risked a glance down the hill to where Morgana and Merlin were talking.