by C. L. Werner
Tyr tapped the metal cup against his chest. “We cheated Fenris.”
Bjorn stared in amazement at the god’s contrition. “But you did what was necessary to preserve Asgard. Had Fenris remained loose it would eventually have wrought havoc throughout the realm.”
“What I did was a necessary evil,” Tyr corrected him. “There was bravery in my deed, but there was no honor. We all of us tricked Fenris, mocked its trust in us. I most of all.”
“The Great Wolf had to be chained,” Bjorn insisted. “Even today, Varinheim is scarred from its ancient depredations and infested with the descendants of its brood.”
“Necessity isn’t nobility,” Tyr said. He sighed as he considered another point. “I wonder if Thor would have agreed to that final deception. To cheat the Great Wolf to the very last.”
Bjorn grimaced at the remark. “He wouldn’t because he didn’t offer his hand to Fenris. You had the right of it when you called your brother reckless and vainglorious. He seeks mighty deeds for his own benefit, not that of Asgard.”
Tyr’s eyes flashed with anger. “I was unjust when I said that, and they are words it is unworthy of you to repeat.” Before he could gauge the reprimand’s effect on Bjorn, a sound from back among the pines caused him to spin around. In a flash his sword was in his hand, its white blade glimmering in the daylight.
“Show yourself,” Tyr commanded.
From behind the pines a figure emerged. Tyr was struck at once by the long red hair that fell across the narrow shoulders, bright even in the shadow of the trees. The shape belonged to a woman, tall and lissome, arrayed in leather garb much like Bjorn. She had a bow and quiver on her back and a broadaxe on her belt. In her hands she carried a boarspear, its sharp head nearly a foot long and barbed along its edges.
“Forgive me,” the huntress said, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I was tracking an old grayback with doubled tusks when I chanced to come upon you. I was waiting for the opportunity to leave as unobtrusively as I came. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop.”
The woman’s face was an image of loveliness, more beautiful than most in Asgard, yet there was a troubling familiarity about her that made Tyr suspicious. “What did you hear?” he asked.
The huntress shook her head and smiled in apology. “Something about the chaining of the Great Wolf. Something more about Thor and heroic deeds. I confess I didn’t understand much of it.”
The more she spoke, the more certain Tyr was that he knew this woman. Not well, but if he concentrated, he was certain he could put a name to…
“Lorelei,” he grumbled when he realized who she was. He’d only ever seen her in elegant gowns and embroidered dresses, so rough hunter’s garb had thrown him off.
“You needn’t say it like that,” Lorelei grumbled back. “You sound like you just found a viper hiding under a rock.”
“Haven’t I?” Tyr prodded her.
“That is a horrible thing to say to a lady,” Bjorn said, rising to defend the huntress.
Tyr turned a warning look on his companion. “This is Lorelei, the younger sister of Amora the Enchantress.” He could see that the information startled Bjorn, but not enough to dull the admiration in his eyes. The ability of Amora to fascinate men with a mere glance was notorious throughout Asgard, not that such knowledge was any protection against her wiles. Lorelei appeared to share her sister’s art.
“It is a hurtful thing to always be in the shadow of your sibling,” Lorelei quipped. She fixed Tyr with her gaze. “Wouldn’t you agree? For better or worse, we are compared to their reputations.”
“I am reminded of the time you tried to woo my brother with a love philter,” Tyr commented. By an effort of will he managed to break contact and look away from her eyes.
“Thor prefers Sif,” Lorelei stated, indifference in her tone. She smiled and laughed. “His loss, don’t you think?”
“We were just discussing how injudicious Thor can be,” Bjorn agreed.
Lorelei sighed. “Yet he’s the one whom all Asgard celebrates.” She stamped the butt of her spear against the ground. “It’s unfair that Thor should be feted while the accomplishments of greater heroes are forgotten.”
“So, you heard more than a little of our conversation,” Tyr accused. He didn’t like the way she was verbally poking at him. It reminded him too much of Loki.
“No,” Lorelei insisted, “but I was in Odin’s hall when you traded sharp words with Thor. I was impressed. It was high time someone tried to curb that ego of his.”
“Small chance of that when he’s constantly running off to fight giants and slay dragons,” Bjorn said. “Every adventure only inflates his pride further.” He saw the disturbed look on Tyr’s face. “You said as much at the feast,” he reminded him.
“Whatever I said, Thor has done great deeds,” Tyr answered. “That cannot be taken from him.”
“They can’t be taken from him,” Lorelei said, staring at Tyr’s gleaming sword. “But have you thought that they might be surpassed?”
Tyr started at the remark. Despite his hesitance, he looked into her eyes. “What do you mean?”
An indulgent laugh rolled from Lorelei’s lips. “I mean instead of being jealous of Thor’s deeds, strike out on adventures of your own.” She stepped closer and laid her hand on his shoulder. “After all, you are Odin’s eldest son.”
“Thor knocked away Ymir’s beard,” Bjorn stated. There was an edge to his voice, and Tyr noticed that his eyes kept darting to Lorelei’s hand on his shoulder. “What can compare to that?”
Lorelei turned from Tyr and regarded Bjorn. “I saw you at the feast,” she said, “so I know you also heard Odin’s speech. Even as he praised Thor, the All-Father spoke of a still greater feat.” Her voice dropped to a dusky whisper. “Surely to a brave and noble heart such as yours, a deed of such magnitude would be worthy of your attention.”
Tyr stared at her in shock. He well remembered what Odin had spoken of, but he was stunned anyone could have taken his words seriously. “To steal the sword of Surtur and bring it back to Asgard,” Tyr said, shaking his head. “My father spoke in jest. That is not a greater feat, but an impossible one.”
“Thor wouldn’t think so,” Lorelei stated. “To him, the impossible is a challenge, not an obstacle.”
Tyr looked over at Bjorn and waved his hand. “You see, young pup? She protests otherwise, but she still loves my brother.” He was pleased to see some of Bjorn’s ardor leave his eyes after hearing him state what should have been obvious.
“Yes,” Lorelei conceded. “That’s why I would like to see him humbled. His rejection hurt me, that is why I tried to ply him with a love potion.” Again she cracked the end of her spear against the ground. “If Thor’s pose as Asgard’s greatest champion were challenged, it might cause him to amend his proud ways and not be so dismissive of me.”
“So that’s what you’re after,” Tyr said. “You want to humble my brother.”
“And you want to make everyone remember that you are also a hero,” Lorelei replied. “Stealing Surtur’s sword would do just that.”
Tyr was silent as he weighed what she said. It was true, taking Surtur’s sword would far eclipse Thor’s triumph over Ymir. That, however, was simple hubris, the urge to assert himself as the eldest son. Not enough to justify the risk involved. But there was another reason. The prophecy of Ragnarok, when Surtur would lead his legions up from Muspelheim to incinerate Asgard. In that battle, the burning sword Twilight would strike down Odin. If he could steal Twilight, perhaps he could defy the prophecy. Even avert Ragnarok. More importantly, at least to him, he would again save his father from a doom that had been foretold for him.
“… but how should we even get into Muspelheim?” Bjorn was asking Lorelei when Tyr stirred from his thoughts. “Surtur’s domain is guarded by his fire demons.”
“There are ways,”
Lorelei said. “Though I am not my sister, the mystic arts aren’t unknown to me. We could cross the Rainbow Bridge to reach Muspelheim. I have spells that could get us past Heimdall, but it would take valiant warriors to brave what awaits us on the other side.” When she spoke the last, she again looked at Tyr. “I know your bravery is equal to the task, but is your ambition?”
Tyr returned his sword to its sheath. “Thor shattered Ymir’s beard for his own ambition. Mine is to protect Asgard and all I hold dear. For that, there is nothing I wouldn’t do.” He bowed his head to Lorelei.
“For that, I would even trust you,” Tyr said.
Five
Lorelei bade Tyr and Bjorn accompany her to her castle out on the Plain of Ida overlooking the Sea of Marmora. The structure could be seen from afar, shimmering in the sunlight. It had been raised from blocks of stone saturated with deposits of mica and quartz so that when the sun struck the fortifications they seemed as though they’d been crafted from the light itself. Tyr found the effect to be magnificent and was impressed by the planning and engineering it must have taken for Lorelei to construct her home in such a manner. There was also a certain symbolism about that impression of a castle built of light, for did they not seek to range across a bridge woven from the same essence?
To ensure their passage across Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge, Lorelei said she needed certain apparatus she kept in her castle. A deep moat surrounded the walls, and Tyr was surprised when he drew near to it that the bottom was as ablaze with light as the castle walls. Where shadows had reached down into the depression, he found the reason. The moat was lined with jagged shards of crystal.
“A notion of my sister’s,” Lorelei explained when she noted the subject of Tyr’s interest. “She has, on occasion, sought refuge with me and has prevailed on me to take certain precautions.” An awkward look squirmed onto her face. “At times she has made strong enemies.”
Tyr tried to repress a snort of laughter. There was an understatement! Through her intrigues and enchantments Amora had made enemies of nearly anyone of consequence in Asgard at one time or another. Thor and Loki both had been caught in her manipulations on different occasions, and it was said the rock troll champion Ulik was still howling for her head after being exploited by her.
“It is to be regretted that the beauty of your castle must be tarnished in such a way,” Bjorn said as the three circled around the moat to where the drawbridge stood. The gates were open, and the portal lowered when they approached.
“Necessity must always compromise beauty,” Lorelei pouted, running her hands across her rough hunter’s garb. “Still, you always have to be practical about such things and accept them as they are.” She directed the last remark at Tyr. “You see, I’ve gotten rid of that naivety that made me think charms and potions could win your brother’s heart.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We live and we learn.”
Tyr scratched his chin, giving consideration to that sentiment. “Some of us learn slower than others, maybe.” He knew he could be intransigent when it came to adapting new ideas. Or reconsidering his opinion of someone. People did change, but often the impression they’d made on others didn’t.
“Welcome home, Lady Lorelei,” a brawny guard greeted her as she started across the bridge. The man gave Tyr and Bjorn a wary study. “Your hunting went well?”
Lorelei dismissed her guard’s concern with a wave of her hand. “I gave up the chase when I found some old friends in the Greenfirm,” she told him. “They will be my guests, Gunter. Tell the kitchens to prepare dinner for three.”
“Is there time for that?” Tyr asked her when Gunter was out of earshot.
“We should make time,” Lorelei answered and laughed. “You might be grateful to have a big meal in your belly before we start. I doubt we’ll find any fit fare in Muspelheim.”
“She makes a good case,” Bjorn said. “I don’t think Surtur will ask us to sup with him before we steal his sword.”
Tyr shook his head as they passed through the castle entrance. “And I’m supposed to be the tactician. The dullest giant knows an army marches on its stomach. Here we are about to start a bold campaign and I forget the most basic element of them all.”
Lorelei gave him a lingering stare. “Perhaps you’ve had other things on your mind,” she said before quickly turning away and hurrying ahead of them into the entry hall.
“What did she mean by that?” Bjorn wondered as they followed after her.
“She knows the prophecy of Ragnarok. She knows that Twilight is fated to slay my father,” Tyr said. “There’s no magic if she guesses this weighs upon me, what I risk by failure and what I may gain by success.” While Bjorn accepted his explanation, Tyr only wished that he could be as certain that it was the meaning of what Lorelei had said. There was something about the way she’d looked at him.
Lorelei claimed to have put aside her desire for Thor. Was that because she was now interested in Tyr?
The inside of the castle was no less astounding than its exterior. The entry was a vast hall of marble pillars and winding stairs. The mosaic on the floor was fashioned from alternating tiles of green and blue to create the impression of a river coursing through woodland. Tyr found that this theme was repeated throughout the home, lending itself to the suggestion that a visitor was following the path of the waterway as they moved from room to room. A bronze brazier standing at the middle of the hall illuminated the rich tapestries hanging from its walls depicting amorous scenes from the sagas. Tyr recognized one of them as representing the Midgard tale of Tristan and Isolde.
“A palace in truth,” Bjorn proclaimed to their hostess, “but how could anything less be a suitable setting for someone as pretty as you.” Had there been less sincerity woven into his awkward speech, Tyr would have smiled at his friend’s discomfort. A rustic wolfhunter from Varinheim, Bjorn was always out of sorts among finery and riches. Tyr’d often joked that if he stumbled on a dragon’s lair, he’d be more frightened of the hoarded treasure than the fire-breathing worm.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” Lorelei replied. She extended her arms and waved them at the many doorways opening into the hall. “Please, accept the liberty of my home. Dinner will be ready within the hour.” She plucked a finger under the sleeve of her tunic. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll change into something more appropriate to the occasion.”
“You’ve yet to explain how you intend to get us past Heimdall and across Bifrost,” Tyr reminded her as she started to ascend the stairs.
“We’ll talk about that over dinner,” Lorelei answered. “Comfortable circumstances allow one to think more clearly.”
The two warriors watched Lorelei withdraw into her rooms upstairs. When she was gone, Bjorn turned to Tyr, a hint of irritation in his eyes. “You’re still suspicious of her?”
“It is hard to trust someone who cast a charm over my brother,” Tyr confessed.
Bjorn pulled at his beard. “If you’re so distrustful, then why are we here? Wouldn’t the smart thing be to stay far away from Lorelei and whatever she’s planning?”
Tyr traced the edge of the mosaic river with his foot. “That would be the wise course, but not the brave one.” He laid his hand on Bjorn’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “I appreciate your devotion, my friend, but know that if you decide to defer to wisdom and return to the city, I won’t think less of you.”
“But you intend to press on,” Bjorn said. “Even if you think Lorelei is trying to trick you.”
Tyr’s expression was somber. “She’s a good hunter. She knows the right bait to put in her trap. To catch me, she offers Twilight and the chance to lift my father’s foretold doom from off his shoulders.” He thought again of when he’d put his hand in the wolf’s mouth and defied fate to protect his father from a different prophecy. “Even if I was certain it was a trap, I couldn’t stay away with such an opportunity before me.” He locked eyes with
Bjorn. “That explains my foolhardiness, but it doesn’t demand that you join me in it.”
“No,” Bjorn said, taking hold of Tyr’s arm and clasping his hand, “but the bonds of friendship do. We’ve stalked giants in the mountains and routed draugr from their barrows. I’ll not shun your company now that something a little more challenging looms before us.” They both chuckled at the understatement. Of all the Nine Worlds, perhaps only Hela’s deathly realm was regarded with more dread than fiery Muspelheim.
“Still,” the huntsman continued, “I can’t share your doubts about Lorelei. She isn’t Amora. She doesn’t have that thirst for power her sister has. What would she gain by trying to trick us?”
“If I knew that,” Tyr sighed, “I would know better what to watch out for.”
They spoke no more on the subject as they walked through Lorelei’s castle. Each room was more splendidly appointed than the last, and Tyr thought their tour was far too brief when Gunter suddenly appeared in a doorway and summoned them to dinner. Bjorn’s tastes might be too rude to appreciate the artistry of her palace, but Tyr found himself impressed by the elegantly carved furnishings, the intricately woven rugs with their colorful patterns, the luxurious tapestries that stretched across the walls. He’d have liked a bit more time to contemplate the long gallery lined with magnificent statues sculpted from equally magnificent stones gathered from across the Nine Worlds.
The dining hall was richly appointed, candles shining from hundreds of silver stands arrayed all around the long table of dark oak. Such was its size that Tyr thought only Yggdrasil could have been large enough to provide the wood. Perhaps Amora had used some spell to meld different boards into each other to create the material for Lorelei’s table. There was a note of the ridiculous when Gunter escorted them up to the head of the table. It was big enough to seat two hundred, yet here it was to serve only three.
Tyr and Bjorn took places to either side of the high-backed gilded chair that stood waiting for their hostess. Servants in bright liveries of blue and gold circled around the table, setting vessels before them. Flagons of ale, steins of beer, bowls of a dark soup with spicy broth, plates of broiled venison and steamed pheasant. It was a test of will to refrain from the meal until Lorelei joined them. Indeed, Tyr had to deliver a sharp kick to Bjorn’s shin when the wolfhunter would have started in on the soup.