Fate of the Gods

by Matthew J. Kirby

  “To Jutland?” Eric asked. “You are a Dane?”

  She nodded.

  “You would return here with the Bluetooth,” Eric said. “Or perhaps you would go to Jomsborg, and bring more Jomsvikings—”

  “I will not,” she said again.

  “You are a shield-maiden!” Eric shouted. “You fight as well as three of my housecarls together. I cannot believe that you will leave me in peace—”

  “You must not feed her to your house-bear, Eric,” said the Lawspeaker, appearing suddenly beside them with Thorvald. Östen hadn’t heard them or seen them approach. “There are some who will secretly mourn Styrbjörn among your own nobles. If you do this thing to Styrbjörn’s wife, you will make bitter enemies of them.”

  “Then what am I to do?” the king asked.

  The Lawspeaker regarded Östen with his milky eyes. “Give her as a thrall to your champion. The man who slew her husband.”

  That suggestion angered Östen, who had not slain Styrbjörn, and did not want his widow as a thrall, and it angered David, who still hated that his ancestor owned slaves.

  “That would be seen as both fitting and just,” Thorvald said.

  Eric looked at Östen. “Even though you faltered at the end,” he said, “you fought well.” Then he turned back to Thorvald. “What of my marshal?”

  Thorvald bowed his head. “Forgive me for not warning you, but I had no time. He was about to kill Östen.”

  Again, Östen bowed his head in gratitude toward the skald.

  “Why?” Eric asked.

  “So that Styrbjörn might kill you,” the Lawspeaker said. “The marshal sought your downfall, and we believe he was not alone. In time, we will find the den of these vipers. Until then, do what you can to avoid turning anyone else against you.”

  Eric looked at Astrid for a few moments, and then he handed Thyra’s tether to Östen, who accepted it without offering any thanks. The king entered the stone enclosure, where he separated his house-bear’s chain from the stake, and then he led her outside, past the others, and set off in the direction of his hall.

  “I will go with him,” the Lawspeaker said. “He will need my counsel in the coming days.”

  The old man shuffled away, calling to Eric, who stopped and waited for him to catch up before he and Astrid lumbered on. Östen watched them go, the house-bear chained to a king, and the king chained to a man far wiser and more cunning by links he couldn’t see.

  Thorvald turned to Östen. “How bad is your side?”

  Östen looked down. “It will need attention, but it didn’t open my gut.”

  “Then you should leave at once. Get her out of here before there is more trouble.” He gave Östen a handful of hack-silver, a small fortune. “Leave your things, and pay for what you need on the road.”

  “I do not want her,” Östen said.

  Thorvald took his arm and led him a short distance away. “Then do not keep her,” he whispered. “Only get her to safety first.” He then pulled out a strange dagger, and even though Östen didn’t recognize it, David did. “I want you to take this blade and hide it well,” Thorvald said. “Far from here.”

  “Why?” Östen asked.

  “It may not look it, but this dagger is dangerous,” Thorvald said. “It must never be used, not even by me. For that reason, it cannot stay in Uppsala, and you are perhaps the only man in Svealand with whom I would trust it. Do not show it to that Dane woman.”

  Östen accepted the dagger, and tucked it away out of sight within his tunic.

  “You are an uncommon man,” Thorvald said loudly. “I doubt our paths shall cross again, but I am honored to have known you.”

  “The same to you, skald,” Östen said. “You will write a song about today?”

  “Of course,” Thorvald said. “Too many heard Styrbjörn call him ‘Eric the Coward.’ That cannot stand. He will be Eric the Victorious, because that is what Svealand needs him to be.”

  Östen shook his head. “I will leave you to your word craft,” he said, preferring that to Thorvald’s poison craft, or the narrow blade concealed at his wrist, and they bade farewell.

  Östen led Thyra from Uppsala, to a ford over the Fyriswater, which they crossed, and then traveled slightly south of east, along the empty market roads. Along the way, they used the silver Thorvald had given them to buy what they needed from villages and farms, but rarely did they speak at all. Östen kept her bound, not because he wanted to, or because he feared her, but because word of them might spread, and they were not yet far enough from the king.

  It was not until days later, when they crossed the border of his land, that he cut her binding completely. When they reached his farm, his family rushed to greet him. First, he gathered Hilla up in his arms, and he kissed her and squeezed her until she complained about his smell, and then he embraced Tørgils and Agnes and Greta. Arne the Dane then came with Stone Dog, who reached up to lick Östen’s fingertips.

  “The farm looks well, Arne,” Östen said. “I haven’t forgotten my promise.” Then he introduced Thyra to his family, and he called her a guest, rather than a thrall.

  That night they ate well, and afterward Östen walked by moonlight with Stone Dog up to the spring, where he took an icy bath in the only water that could make him feel clean after the battle he had fought. Then, with Stone Dog as his only witness, he wrapped Thorvald’s strange dagger in an oilskin and buried it next to the spring, afterward covering the spot with a small cairn of stones.

  Alongside Östen’s mind, David took note of the location, the features that wouldn’t change as much, even after centuries. “That’s it,” he said. “We’ve got it.”

  We’ve got it, Victoria said. Good work, David. If you’re ready, I’ll bring you out—

  “Not yet,” David said. “If—if that’s okay. I just need to see something.”

  There was a pause.

  All right, a few more minutes.

  David rejoined Östen’s mind and memories, and as his ancestor returned to his hall, he found Thyra standing outside, gazing up at the moon. Östen tried to walk past without disturbing her, but she called to him and asked him to join her, which he did.

  “You are a fortunate man,” she said, “to have a life such as this.”

  “I would die to protect it,” he said.

  She looked down at the ground, no doubt thinking of her dead husband, and he realized he’d chosen his words poorly, but didn’t know how to repair them.

  “I thought he would surely do it,” Thyra said. “At Uppsala, I thought Eric would feed me to his bear, no matter what the Lawspeaker said.”

  “Why?”

  “The power of symbols,” she said, “and the meaning of my husband’s name. Styrbjörn, the wild and unruly bear, and I, his widow, eaten by a bear on a chain.”

  Östen fell silent. “I hadn’t thought of it.”

  Their exchange recalled to Östen’s mind his own question on the subject of bears, and whether it was better to live on the king’s chain, or to live free and risk death at the hands of hunters or the cruelties of the savage winter. Eric had made his choice, just as Styrbjörn had made his. For his own part, Östen knew what he would choose, and what every man deserved.

  “My thrall is one of your countrymen,” Östen said.

  “Yes, I know his village.”

  “I intend to free him. You may stay or go as you wish, of course. But there is still plenty of Thorvald’s silver left. I thought you might take it and go with Arne back to Jutland.”

  This was the moment David had stayed to see. Not because he needed to. Because he hoped to.

  Thyra turned toward Östen, her pale face as blank and unreadable as the moon above. “Thorvald was right. You are an uncommon man.” Then she looked back up into the sky. “I will speak with Arne, but I am not of a mind to leave just yet.”

  Östen frowned. “It will be dangerous for you to stay. Why would you risk it?”

  She looked down at her right hand. “Whe
n Eric had me bound, one of the housecarls took Styrbjörn’s Ingelrii sword from me. It was the blade he gave me with his wedding vows.”

  Östen began to understand, but now he worried even more. “You seek to recover it?”

  “I do.” She laid her sword hand against her stomach. “I will have need of it one day.”

  David? Victoria said. It’s time.

  But he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to know what happened to these people, to Östen, and his children, and their children. He wanted to know if Thyra got Styrbjörn’s sword back, and if Arne the Dane went home, and—

  I need to pull you out, David. Remember why you’re in there. Think about Isaiah.

  He didn’t want to think about Isaiah. But he knew he had to. “Okay,” he said, and sighed. “Okay, I’m ready to leave. Let’s go save the world.”

  Natalya waited with Owen and Grace in the common room. It was nighttime outside, turning all the Aerie’s windows into mirrors, and she’d just eaten a second bag of barbecue potato chips, not because she was hungry, even though she was, and not because she liked barbecue potato chips, because she didn’t, but because she was anxious and had nothing else to do. The two empty bags stared at her, asking now what?

  “So how do you think the shield is supposed to work?” Grace asked.

  Owen slumped low in his chair, his feet up on the table. “I’ve been wondering that, too. I don’t feel any different.”

  Natalya sat forward, her elbows and forearms flat on the table. “Well, we followed the Path through the simulation, right? The first thing we met was the Serpent in the Forest. I’m guessing that’s the fear part. The next thing was the Dog, which was probably devotion.”

  “And climbing that mountain was faith,” Grace said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Right,” Owen said. “We know all that. But I hope Minerva’s big message wasn’t just a summary of what we had already done. How is that a shield?”

  Natalya had no idea. But since the prong Isaiah had used in Mongolia caused fear, and the other two caused devotion and faith, it had to mean something that they lined up with the archetypes in the simulation. But that insight still didn’t explain where the shield would come from, or how they could use it to resist the power of the Trident.

  “Maybe the collective unconscious is broken,” Grace said. “Monroe said it’s really old, right? What if Minerva’s genetic time capsule went bad before it got to us?”

  Owen closed his eyes, as though he was aiming for a nap. “I don’t think that’s how it—”

  The door opened and Javier walked in, followed by David. Then Monroe, Griffin, and Victoria entered the room. Owen’s eyes popped open as he got his feet off the table and sat up in his chair.

  “Everyone staying hydrated after their simulations?” Victoria asked.

  “Yeah,” Grace said, restraining an eye roll, and looked at David. “Did you find it?”

  He gave her a nod and a smile.

  “We found it,” Victoria said. “The Piece of Eden changed hands several times, but we now have our best estimate for its final location.”

  “So let’s go get it,” Owen said. “And then we figure out how to take the other two from Isaiah.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,” Victoria said. She took a seat at the long conference table. “The Templars have been trying to find Isaiah using more conventional means. They tracked him to an old Abstergo facility that was never completed, on the Isle of Skye near Scotland. They lost contact with the first strike team they sent in, and the second team found the site abandoned.”

  “What happened to the first team?” Grace asked.

  “It seems they joined him,” Victoria said. “That’s the power of the Trident. Any force we send after Isaiah will only build his army and make him that much stronger.”

  “Isaiah is like a black hole,” Monroe said. “If we get too close, he’ll suck us in, and we’ll become one of his followers.”

  “You mean slaves,” David said.

  Javier tipped his head toward him. “I was thinking zombies.”

  “Whatever you call them,” Monroe said, “let me ask you, do you like the idea of Griffin fighting on Isaiah’s side? Against us?”

  Natalya did not like that idea at all. She had seen what Griffin could do to those he considered his enemies. But beyond that, she didn’t like the thought of any of them losing themselves to the power of the Trident. They had already lost Sean to it, and Natalya still planned to get him out, somehow.

  “That’s why we can’t just charge off to Scandinavia to find the Piece of Eden,” Griffin said, standing near the table.

  “Do we know where Isaiah is now?” Grace asked.

  “Somewhere in Sweden,” Victoria said. “That’s as close as we can get.”

  “No, it’s not,” Javier said. “We know Sean was in the memories of Styrbjörn, right? And the last time he saw the dagger, it was hidden in a shrine in the middle of the forest. I was there. We know where that is. And even if Isaiah realizes it’s not there, the only other place he’ll look will be Uppsala. We know where that is, too.” He glanced at David. “Isaiah will never guess that my ancestor gave the dagger to a giant farmer.”

  Griffin nodded. “Javier is right. And that gives us at least some idea of the perimeter we’re talking about.”

  Victoria nodded, and then she tapped and swiped at her tablet. “The location from David’s simulation is over forty miles from either Uppsala or the forest.”

  “Is that enough of a buffer?” Monroe asked. “If Isaiah realizes you’re there, he’ll be within striking distance.”

  “I think it’s as good as we’re going to get,” Victoria said. “I’ll arrange an Abstergo jet to fly us—”

  “Wait a minute.” Monroe held up his hand, looking at the table. “Before you do that, how do we know you can trust anyone from Abstergo at this point? Or the Templars?”

  “What are you—” Victoria wrinkled her brow. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting. I told you, you’re all perfectly safe here.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Monroe pressed his index finger against the table. “How do we know Isaiah doesn’t already have zombies, or slaves, or whatever you want to call them, inside the Order?”

  “That’s impossible,” Victoria said.

  “Impossible is a pretty big word,” Monroe said. “Are you sure it applies? Are you sure the Order doesn’t have some housekeeping to take care of?”

  Natalya knew he was talking about the Instruments of the First Will, and Isaiah’s connection to them. The question was whether Victoria knew about them. But instead of answering his question, she set her tablet on the table, frowning, and said nothing.

  “It sounds like you know something, Monroe,” Griffin said.

  “I do.” Monroe hadn’t taken his eyes from Victoria. “The question is, does she?”

  Victoria still said nothing, her face unsettlingly serene. Griffin took a step toward her, and the tension in the room escalated to feeling almost dangerous. Natalya knew Monroe wasn’t going to budge, and it didn’t look as if Victoria would break. Someone else would have to end the stalemate, and quickly, before they wasted any more time.

  “We know about the Instruments of the First Will,” Natalya said.

  Monroe swung a disbelieving glare in her direction, trying to silence her from across the table, while confusion cracked the veneer of Victoria’s serenity. Little creases appeared at the corners of her lips and between her eyebrows.

  “What do they have to do with this?” she asked. “And how do you know about them?”

  Natalya turned to Grace, and she pulled the paper out of her pocket.

  Monroe threw up his hands and swore. “So much for keeping any of this between us.”

  “I found this in a book,” Grace said, ignoring him. “Isaiah wrote it. It seems like he was a part of the Instruments of the First Will.”

  “May I see it?” Victoria asked.

>   Grace hesitated for a few seconds, but then shrugged, and passed Victoria the paper. As she read it, the creases on her face seemed to deepen with her confusion. When she finished reading it, she passed the paper to Griffin.

  “I had no idea Isaiah had ever been connected with the Instruments,” she said. “I suppose he shares some of their objectives. But I can assure you, they are being dealt with. Internally.”

  “So you didn’t know about any of that?” Natalya asked, nodding toward the paper in Griffin’s hands.

  “I knew about Isaiah’s motives,” Victoria said. “He sent me a similar document before he left for Mongolia. I honestly didn’t think his reasons would make a difference to us and our plans. But he made no mention of the Instruments of the First Will to me.”

  “Now do you see why I was suspicious?” Monroe asked.

  Victoria nodded. “If Isaiah was once allied with them, it’s possible he would have spies and followers even without the power of the Trident. But with the Trident …”

  “Now you see why we can’t go to the Order.” Monroe looked at Griffin. “Or the Brotherhood. We’re on our own. The only people we can trust are in this room.”

  “That’s better anyway,” David said. “You already said that agents and strike teams won’t help us here. In fact, they’ll make it worse.”

  “Right,” Victoria said. “Then I guess I need to arrange for a plane to Sweden.”

  Natalya looked around the room. “All of us?”

  “Why not?” Owen asked.

  “Because if something goes wrong,” she said, “and Isaiah takes over our minds, there won’t be anyone left to stop him.”

  “A smaller team will also stand a better chance of going undetected,” Griffin said.

  “Right.” Victoria picked up her tablet. “So who’s going?”

  “This is in my wheelhouse,” Griffin said. “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll go,” said Javier.

  “Nope.” Monroe shook his head. “I don’t think we should send any of you kids.”

  “Kids?” Grace said.

  “But we’re the ones with the shield,” Owen said. “We’re actually the best ones to send.” And then he added, “As long as it works.”