“The Norns will not tell you anything you do not already know.”
“I must protect him.” The sheer agony of the premonition laced her words, stretching them out like strings of pent up despair.
“You’ve been protecting him all of his life. Now, he must protect himself.”
“And should he perish due to our foolishness, our haughtiness even?”
“And when he is invincible, what then?” Odin scooted closer to her and placed his large hand on her back, rubbing away some of the tension. “We all must embrace death.”
Freyja shook her head. “For you, it is different, this ability to close your eyes and not worry; but when I close my eyes, I think of my children, and this nightmare has removed my ease.”
“So, what do you plan to do?”
“Fix it, of course.” She turned toward him, taking his hands in her own. “I can fix anything. Despite what you may think, I know what I am doing.”
A shadow crossed Odin’s face. Something hung in the air between them, something unsaid. “Whatever you do, know that the Norns, the majestic overseers of fate, have already carved out how this shall end. You are not to worry.”
A calm eased over her as he wrapped her in his arms.
The images that had spread through her mind spoke of a future that had not yet occurred, but one she might be able to change. She tucked that hope deep down to where even Odin could not discern it.
The Norns whittled like wood, the destinies of gods, dwarves, and men, and everything in between, even his. A mother’s love knew no bounds, and even the Norns, or the threat of the fates, could not combat it.
Chapter 4
Baldr
Everyone wanted to save someone. That was the problem with Asgard and the gods; they were either stuck in action or forced to fight only the visible monsters and not the ones who sat on the high council alongside them.
Baldr sat outside of the high council’s circle, listening in as the gods sought their rights for their respective territories. Outside of the circle, on a bench seated cattycorner to his father’s throne, as well as that of his uncle Tyre. From his position, he could still see his father’s telling expressions, as well as hear everything crystal clear. All the while three-dimensional holograms of Jupiter and Juno, who represented the Romans, sat next to the Greek gods, Zeus and Hera, with whom they were currently allied. Anubis and Isis represented the Egyptians, the Celtic goddess, Morrigan, and An, the Sumerian sky god, also made an appearance.
The alliance allowed for each pantheon to genetically mark their servants and would-be believers. Something the believers didn’t know, but that the gods could see upon close inspection. Further, this allowed the faiths of the few to travel far and wide, far away from any celestial border or territory.
Other pantheons and lesser councils existed, and only through the celestial agreement stayed out of each other’s way, working by proxy and in accordance to the lay lines for borders. Yet even the high council had to listen to the high regard of the Norns when they spoke.
The nine worlds were ruled from Asgard, where even the Norns, those women of fate, resided. However, one seat in the pantheon remained empty, as decreed by Odin. Thus far, he’d held a tight hold on his position at the table of gods, but the whispers did not cease.
Something was coming.
Baldr’s ears perked up when he heard El-Baal, from the Phoenician pantheon, speak. “We have already decided that human sacrifices are what is best for us and our ways.” The walls echoed his declaration. “We shan’t waste time on discussing the issue.”
Baldr leaned forward. He’d just dreamt of this, and now El-Baal confirmed it. What were the odds? Was it possible those dreams were indeed messages or premonitions of what was to come?
“You know where we stand on human sacrifice.” Tyre’s voice boomed. “We have long decreed since the great evil which swept through the realms, that innocent blood need not be shed for us to listen to our believers. We are to walk in justice, and not in the lust of death.”
“Who are you to decide how we are to rule,” El-Baal retorted, “when even now you have no power besides that which Odin has given you?”
“Am I not speaking?” Tyre asked. “Do I not still wield a weapon that can cause pain, just as well as have a heart that can be gentle? When we shed innocent blood, we do not ingratiate our followers, or new believers. Although those throughout the realms carry the gene within them, it is through their alliance and growing faith that the tattoo becomes prominent. To take those who have not been chosen hurts us all. In fact, your sacrificing of innocents could be seen as a way to stop the prophecy which the wise Norns have decreed shall come to pass.”
“That is preposterous. We desire what we desire, and it is not for you or anyone else on this council to determine what it is that we see as pleasing,” El-Baal zinged. His stark features grew tight around his mouth.
“Human sacrifice has been around for a long time—what is one more?” Anubis countered. With the head of a dog, but the body of a man, his canine lips quivered to reveal his sharp teeth.
“Why bring up the prophecy?” Juno asked. She scrunched her face in concern.
“It is simple: By instilling fear, it benefits no one—” Tyre began.
The gathered gods chuckled. “They need not love us,” Helena said.
“Please listen,” Isis began. Her voice was smooth and authoritative. All attention fell on her. “Our existence is based on that of their exaltation. Should it cease to exist, so does the fruit which keeps us young that grows in the garden, so does all that keeps our ‘heavens’ aligned and mighty. It is through those utterances. Now, if you kill them all, or expect them to die in utter consternation and willfully give up their existence, then you must do something that will make them believe that their sacrifice is brave, honorable, and prized.”
“What do you suggest, dear Isis?” Odin asked, steepling his fingers.
Baldr could hear the intensity in his father’s words, as he considered the sacrifice request, and frowned. This would damn them all.
“If human sacrifices are to reconvene,” Isis continued, “then we must sacrifice, too, and provide those who do so with rich blessings, a contract of sorts, where their lives have been enriched by such a great sacrifice.”
“Aye, Aye,” the gods agreed.
“But there is more.” Isis raised her hand for silence, and proceeded. “To ensure this sacrifice, we must also enforce the no poaching clause, as those believers who have been tattooed shall remain in the service of their branded pantheon.”
“And what of free will?” El-Baal asked. “Life brings changes, and people do often change their minds; faith shall be no different.”
“Their religious experiences will cause the tattoo to change,” Odin added. “It is never static. But should a believer be poached, then there must be consequences. We do not always see things as they truly are, but according to our own paradigm and ways.”
How could the gods agree to strip humanity of a freedom to decide something as important as their own faith? Baldr shook his head and cast a tight-lipped smile. He wasn’t on the council and therefore unable to allow his voice to be heard. Instead of protecting mankind, the gods now sought to doom them.
“Let us take a vote,” Odin bellowed, and Baldr quickly rose. He couldn’t stand to stay while the gods agreed to the games they would play with those in Midgard.
Technology would one day infiltrate and change everything, and either a new god would be spawned to ally with the old, or it would decimate the pantheons of old, and this would be the pebble that started it all.
To have all wisdom and be filled with folly could only cause damnation.
The doors swung closed behind him as the charged voices of the gathered gods all voted, “Aye”.
Chapter 5
Freyja
Freyja bypassed the practice field as the Valkyrie continued to move as one unit. All soldiers needed to practice; there could b
e no room for failure.
Something was coming.
She could feel it shifting and moving through the pantheons, even in the grand circle of the high council where she was headed.
Within the confines of Valhalla, the men did their daily chants, boosting themselves up for the to-the-death battle, where some would die only to rise again.
All soldiers needed the practice.
Even the gods.
The royal hall was decorated in a gold overlay, with detailed colorful paintings on the ceiling made out of valiant shields. Finally, in the throne room, she found Odin still seated, speaking with Thor, who stood across from him with his muscular arms crossed. Although seeing him from the side, she’d recognize that wild red hair anywhere.
“What news do we have of the Jotuns?” Odin asked.
“The giants are no threat at the moment, Father, however, I fear that they are in the midst of regrouping and will charge us as soon as a chance is provided.”
Odin tapped his fingers on his leather armrest. “What have you heard?”
Thor paused. The pause was too long for Freyja’s liking.
“Does it concern Baldr?” Freyja interrupted. She glided across the mosaic-tiled floor and took her seat on her throne next to Odin.
“I didn’t want to mention it, dear mother,” Thor acquiesced.
Although their relationship was not of blood, Freyja regarded Thor as born from her womb, the same as Baldr.
“Speak, son,” Odin said, “You mustn’t withhold the gossip you’ve heard.”
“It is only while I was visiting with the Greek pantheon, discussing your desire to further the alliance, that Zeus informed me he’d heard it from his daughter, Aphrodite, that Minerva is again seeking vengeance against Baldr.”
“Are you sure?” Odin asked. He rubbed his closely trimmed white beard.
“Nay. It is possible that Aphrodite misheard what was said, but I would suggest that you send out Hugin and Munin to scour the area to see if Minerva is indeed making plans.”
The ravens flew across the realms every day to gather the news and then report back to Odin. They were his eyes, and faithfully recounted all that they saw.
“Luckily Baldr is still here,” Freyja whispered.
“Yes, but soon the summer solstice will come, and Baldr must head down to Midgard for the festival. This could be explosive, but we will face this threat.” Odin rose from his throne.
“Is it possible that Minerva is also seeking alliances, or will be working with others to attack Baldr?” Freyja asked.
“We can’t worry about that now, dear. Instead, let’s send a missive to Jupiter and see if there is something that can cut this off at the head. If he can’t or refuses to take care of this threat, Minerva, we will not back down from protecting our own.”
“But what of Baldr? Do we tell him what we know? We must protect him because if we don’t, then he will be the catalyst to the end.” Odin might not have been concerned, but if Baldr should die, her heart could not take it. The world would lose its light. No. There had to be a way to make it so he never died, that he might never perish. She frowned and gritted her teeth.
Odin rubbed his beard. “No, he needs to prepare for the ceremony. Let’s call a meeting. We all need the peace to remain, and surely no one wishes us to clash.”
Her dear husband wasn’t known for wearing his heart on his sleeve, but just because he didn’t have any recourse, didn’t mean that her hands were tied. Freyja agreed, and watched Odin’s retreat.
She would not allow anything to take her son, even if it meant that he’d have the gift that no one in Asgard had: immortality.
Within the dream, Baldr moved. Under the cover of night, in the shadows of the Barca palace, a roaring fire illuminated the space between them. Nanna sat across from him, but despite the distance, she commanded his attention. But her shoulders were slumped as if something weighed heavily on her. She picked up a stick and drew something in the sand he could not see.
The night sky was dotted with stars, while the vibrant moon shone upon them.
Baldr cleared his throat. “I cannot be with you,” he declared. His words rushed out in a panic—something new to him. He’d never been weak, or even given a chance to experience such emotion as this.
“Cannot or will not?” she asked, still not looking up at him. Her red hair tumbled forward, blocking her face from his view.
“You don’t understand. I am an honorable god, light that harbors no darkness, and for me to want you is less than honorable.”
The fire rose and fell between them, as if his emotion caused it to roar to life, triggering real sparks to fly.
“That might be, dear Baldr, so you would put those things above your own heart and happiness? Something as immaterial as honor?”
Baldr forced down the baseball-sized knot in his throat. “Aye, for darkness cannot conquer darkness, love. And love would not require or ask me to do that which conflicts us both.”
“Why do you use such words with me if they are hollow? You choose honor by dishonoring me.”
“How have I done such?”
“As you are making me want something that I never thought possible. The streets will run red when the high priest comes, and they will take away the innocent children. You must not act because of me, but I beg you to please save them. No one need to know.”
“But I will know. I will not dishonor my father or soil the treaty by giving in to this.”
“Then this conversation is over. You are indeed weaker than your brother, as he knows that all of humanity requires protection, not just those who adhere to his pantheon.”
With that, she hurried into the night.
Baldr scooted around the fire to where she’d been seated and stared at what she’d written into the sands.
The children will be the only salvation for the gods.
“Upon my soul,” he swore. That was from Ymir’s prophecy, a prophecy she should know nothing of.
How could he choose between honor and love?
“What do you mean, you will not release them to me?” Annôn bristled at the priest’s condescending tone.
They’d been going back and forth, but to no avail. Despite the gaiety in the background as singers and other musicians serenaded the heavens, tension grew. Soon the diviners would come forth and propagate their truth to anyone willing to listen, and the scribes would be waiting in the wings, to write each prophetic word within their sacred scrolls.
“It is simple,” the priest sneered, “although your family has great influence, our sacrifice is to the great god, Baal Hammon, his consort, Astarte-Tanit, and Melqart.”
“You cannot believe that the mother goddess, Tanit, would want innocent children sacrificed!” Annôn squared her shoulders.
“We must pray and send forth our thoughts for such blessings to rain down upon us so that we may have favor. Every contract has obligations, and for us, this means the pyre. Even your father wouldn’t dare attempt to chastise the temple. You have been given too much free reign if you believe it is okay for your brashness.”
Annôn leaned forward until she was almost nose to nose with the priest. “If you touch hide or hair on any of my children, I will kill you personally and set your remains aflame so that you may be pleasing to the gods. None of my family shall pass through the fire!” Her voice dropped even lower as she squared off with him, speaking only through her gritted teeth.
“You have no authority here, and with such threats being thrown around, I find it best that you should go. Guards.” He summoned over two of the largest men she’d ever seen. Dense with muscle and as high as camels. Twins?
The temple was the center of power, outside of the royal palace, where religion and politics overlapped.
Her only recourse would be to avail upon the mercy of the suffetes, the elected chief magistrates, who might still hold her and her family in high regard.
After the guards tossed her out of the holy place onto
the cobblestone street, she made haste.
Time was of the essence.
Chapter 6
Baldr
In the lively pub, as music played lightly in the background, Baldr stared into his still-filled stein.
The latest dream had seemed so real, but this time with winged beasts, dragons. They were majestic, breathtaking and powerful. But it was the memory of the reaction that the gods had toward the dragons that pained him.
If he closed his eyes, he could still see the gods all gathered in the courtyard, looking up at the sky, filled with these creatures. All wearing armor, they’d shielded their gazes from the bright midday sun, too. And he sensed something strange, as some appeared fearful. Although the dragons were their soldiers in arms, ready to defeat any attack that might come; their sheer numbers could prove intimidating.
“Why do I find you sitting here alone, Baldr?” Loki clapped him on the shoulder and took an empty seat at the table. “You are usually so filled with light. I’ve never seen you sulk over a good mead.” Loki then raised his hand for a refill in the stein he’d guzzled empty before his butt could hit the chair.
“I’m plagued by dreams which I don’t understand,” Baldr replied.
“Oh, the Norns are in your head again.” Loki waved his hand. “They like to stir things up that don’t need any mixing.”
Baldr leaned forward. “But this is different, as I dream of the rise of a beast that will help Asgard, but also one that will not be embraced by the gods.”
Loki began to chuckle. “It’s only a dream.”
Baldr shook his head. “No, I think they tell me of a future here, of something that must and will happen.”
“What sort of beasts are we talking about?” Loki leaned back and crossed his arms. After all, of all of the residents in Asgard, he was the only one known to have children who were not like the others—children who some considered grotesque.
A Dragon's Rising (The Dragon Series: Origins Book 1) Page 3