The silence that fell was profound, and then the bear-warriors had left the room, muttering that they’d eat in the main cafeteria. In their wake, Kanmi was the first to speak. “If they expect me to follow along like a lamb on a string, they’re going to be in for several nasty surprises.” His eyes glittered in the low light. “This reeks of politics. Politics of the gods, no less.”
Adam raised his hand. “We’ll play nice, to start with. More flies with honey, and all that.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “That being said? I’m not any more inclined to grovel than you are, Kanmi.” Erikir’s words were still burning a hole at the back of his mind, and added irritation to his voice. “We’ll get in more doors with them, than without them, at least at first.”
“And when do we tell them to go fuck themselves?” Kanmi asked.
“Cross the bridge when it’s before us, Esh.” Adam laced his fingers together, propping his elbows widely on the table, as he often did when he was thinking. “We might get through this mess smoothly and diplomatically. But I suspect I’ll be ready to tell them to shove it up their asses right around the moment we all understand what precisely is going on here.”
“Stop it,” Sigrun said, and her voice carried enough chill to make Adam blink. “Neither of them likes their orders any more than we do. And Brandr’s already implied that he’s willing to defy the orders if and when there’s a good reason.” Her expression was tight.
“Hostility gets us nowhere,” Trennus put in, quietly, and Adam exhaled. They were right. Of course they were.
The others cleared out of the room, and Sigrun went to the window to look out at their view of the North Sea. After a moment, she half-turned, and looked back at him. “Do you remember what the old shaman of the Morning Star said?” she asked, her eyes troubled.
“He said he’d saved his people,” Adam replied. The memory still made his blood chill in his veins. “Spilling out his own blood in sacrifice to his god, to empower him.”
“That, too,” Sigrun agreed. “However, I meant when he asked Livorus if we knew where our gods were.” She frowned. “Loki did not ‘disappear’ until 1964. Ten years later.”
“But Tlaloc, and Inti, and all the others . . . “ Adam stood, and crossed the room to wrap his arms around her. “What are you thinking, Sig?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, and tucked her head on his shoulder. “Fritti said that Loki was preparing for Ragnarok. I was told when I was young that few god-born had been born for fifty years before my birth . . . but that Erikir and I were the first in a wave of such. And that such waves always presage a great war.” She tilted her head on his shoulder to peer up at him. “The Morning Star bade his people to prepare. Loki is preparing.”
And your sister has spent most of her life telling you that you’d live to see the end of the world. Adam didn’t say it out loud. “I don’t know, Sig. But I believe the same thing you do. That our choices matter. Because if our choices are predestined, then there’s no meaning to existence.”
She nodded, fervently. A moment of silence. “Sig?”
“Hmm?”
“I hate to ask, but was there ever anything between you and Erikir?” The annoying thing was, until about an hour ago, he’d actually liked the younger bear-warrior. They’d had a couple of interesting conversations, with Kanmi and Min involved, discussing magic and the developing scientific field of laser technology. He’d seemed more flexible than Brandr—who was, in himself, a controlled, calm antithesis to the preconceptions Adam had had about bear-warriors. But . . . still.
Her head came up, startled. “What? No.” Sigrun actually laughed. “You know I hadn’t, well, before you . . . .”
Adam chuckled. “No. I meant more . . . flirtation.” He paused, looking into his wife’s clear gray eyes, and saw incomprehension.
“Adam, I spent four years at the Odinhall. Every day, the three of them—Erikir, Hrokr, and Stigr—would do their mortal best to pound me into putty on the mats.” Sigrun grimaced. “And when it wasn’t that, it was bookwork. Laws, for me, in the main. Sagas. History. Magical lore. Countering magic. I slumbered every night like the dead.”
Adam looked at his wife, and shook his head. “And you were the only valkyrie there? Three young bear-warriors, all your age, all being driven just as hard as you were?”
“Well . . . yes and no. There were classes ahead of us and behind us. And other valkyrie in the classes behind us. I was the first one born in some twenty years, though, yes.” Sigrun hesitated, clearly understanding his implication. Surely they were interested? She shook her head. “Truly, Adam, I don’t remember anything like that. It was a long time ago, but . . . truly. Nothing of that kind passed.”
She left the Odinhall the year after I was born. That makes her nineteen years my elder. And she’s known Erikir longer than I’ve been alive. But then again . . . she’s with me. Adam looked down at her, having rationalized away the brief spark of jealousy successfully. “Let’s go get you your answers, neshama.”
The next day, they boarded the first of several planes heading for Fennmark. Transferred flights, waded through customs. Sigrun sailed through, and Lassair simply decorporealized for the journey, reappearing when the others were through. Then they rented motorcars—ley-powered, in this part of the world, and practically antique. Adam wasn’t sure if the one he was driving could get above forty-five miles per hour.
All these travel arrangements were followed by a long drive along uncertain roads that still had patches of black ice. Berms of snow had been plowed to the shoulders of the road, and remained there, like miniature glaciers. No Imperial highways here. All roads were local, and many of them wound and twisted, taking them fifty miles out of their way before they could get back on track.
Still, the countryside was beautiful, if a little chill for Adam’s taste. Wide expanses of farmland, where some of the locals had broken through ground still winter-hard, opening up furrows in the earth. Forests, still with snow in patches in the deepest shade of the tall pine trees. Peat bogs that had thawed from winter, and now undulated in the breeze, the land itself seeming to ripple. A few errant wildflowers poked up from frozen ground and sere, winter-dead grass. Shining patches of open water.
Adam’s radio crackled in his ear. “We’re entering one of the areas now that’s been noted for monsters,” Brandr reported, his voice tense. “Keep an eye on the sky, and on the sides of the road. Ambushes are definitely possible.”
Adam tabbed the radio at his waist, triggering it, and asked, “We’re looking for giants? And . . . lindworms?”
“Ettin, jotun. Wolves the size of a horse have been reported. And yes, lindworms. I have yet to see any of the giants, but the lindworms definitely exist, and are very dangerous.” That, from Erikir. “Poisoned bite and claws. The ones from mythology were supposed to look like wyverns—a serpent’s body, with hind legs and wings. The ones we encountered looked more like small dragons, with wings and four legs. Some of them were able to exhale damaging fluids.”
Adam pictured anew the fresh and curving scars on Erikir’s cheek. Anything that could cause a scar that lingered that deeply on a bear-warrior was probably best avoided. “How big are we talking?” he asked, after a moment.
“About the weight of an elephant, but longer, and with wings,” Brandr supplied, grimly. “Wish I knew where they’re coming from.”
“We’ll find out,” Erikir returned, with calm assurance.
Sigrun, in the front seat, leaned forward to start scanning the sky, her expression uneasy. And about an hour later, along a deserted stretch of road, they found a tree that had fallen across it, barring the motorcars. “Now this,” Adam said as he braked, “doesn’t feel like an ambush at all.”
“We’ll move the tree,” Brandr said over the radio. “Just cover us.”
Adam opened the door, and an ice-touched wind stole his breath for a moment. He had no idea how people lived up here in this miserable climate. He stood, drawing his new Vheva
semiautomatic. He’d been using the gun for about six months now, and liked the ten-shot clip, the speed of the weapon’s action. And had been shocked, when he’d unlocked the guncase in which he kept the Velserk that Inti had changed into a weapon capable of killing gods . . . and had discovered that the Velserk was gone. In its place was a sleek Vheva, identical to the one he’d been using. For a moment, he’d thought someone had stolen the damned thing . . . and then he’d seen the sunburst on the grip, and had lifted the weapon out of the case in mild awe. It adapts. Inti ensured that it would evolve. Why?
He had the god-touched weapon at the small of his back, at the moment but it was along as a precaution. He didn’t think he was going to need it, but if it came right down to it? If holding that gun on Loki was the only way to get the truth, and satisfaction? He’d probably do it.
Using the door as partial cover, Adam watched as Kanmi and Minori emerged from the vehicle that they shared with Brandr and Erikir, and Kanmi turned to give Adam a droll look. The sorcerer was plainly itching to do something, and Adam felt his lip curl up on one side, and he nodded, once.
Kanmi smirked, and with only a hand gesture of scooping and flinging, lifted the fallen tree, which was easily a hundred years old, and tossed it to the side of the road before the two bear-warriors could reach it. Both men spun, clearly surprised, and as they did, howls rose from the still snow-clad forest around them, long, wolf-like cries that ululated unnervingly. “Right!” Sigrun shouted, and Adam’s eyes tracked towards her side of the road, and he blinked as he saw a half-dozen wolves break from the forest’s edge. Pure white, they blended into the patchy snow easily, and were at least five feet tall at the shoulder. He suddenly understood why the reports had called them the size of horses; he could have ridden one of these, without a problem. “Fenris,” Sigrun said, her tone awed. “They’re each nearly the size of Fenrir Vánagandr himself. And there are six of them.”
“Ah, Sig? Lightning, perhaps?”
Sigrun hesitated. The beasts’ heavy jaws gaped, and drool poured from them in sticky streams, and suddenly, there were answering howls from the forest all around . . . but the answering voices had none of the eerie beauty of the wolves’ calls. These sounded like human voices, but impossibly deep. Guttural. Adam’s eyes widened as huge, man-shaped creatures broke from the forest’s edge as well. They’re taller than entities, he thought, trying to align his aim with center of mass on the closest one. Inti had been well in excess of eight feet; so was Tyr. Mamaquilla had been just at eight feet, herself.
These creatures all had long fangs, like some primal cousin of humanity, and their faces were brutish. Projecting lower jaws, prominent cheekbones, rough-cut, as if from stone that had turned to flesh, and they wore rough skins, wrapped around their waists—or were naked, entirely. That wasn’t the only shock. Several of the creatures had two heads, and these creatures, in particular, had a mad gleam to their eyes.
Worse however, was Lassair’s reaction. They are not spirits! They are human! Or were!
“Get in the cars!” Adam shouted. “Move!”
Brandr and Erikir, however, were still in the middle of the road, weighing their options. Adam swore, mentally. We can outrun them in the cars, but we have to go now. There’s no need for a fight, not here, in the middle of nowhere, and for no reason. “Go!”
The two bear-warriors both shook their heads, slowly. Brandr unslung his hammer from his back; Erikir drew his sword. The giants howled and ran forward, savage glee on their faces, and the wolves ran with them, closing on the two men. The foot speed of the wolves alone was terrifying, and Adam had Kanmi and Min right there as well. “Esh! Min!”
Kanmi was already pulling back around the other side of the car, and he and Min were obviously both incanting, rapidly. The huge fallen tree lifted once more, and sailed directly into the path of the giants, catching half of them at chest-height, and bowling them over backwards to the ground. As it landed atop them, it burst into flame, and three of the creatures, thus, now had more important things to worry about than attacking the humans. That didn’t stop the wolves from racing forward and surrounding Brandr and Erikir. Adam could see the creature’s breaths now, panting out from their muzzles in white clouds, for all that the temperature was a relatively balmy fifty-five degrees. Every snarl, every exhalation, was right at about head-height for the two bear-warriors, and they pulled back from the white clouds, covering their faces with their free arms, protecting their eyes. Erikir swung his sword, golden light flaring in its path, and tagged one of the huge wolves, and it leaped away, yelping, but another two moved in, one circling behind him, while the other three moved to try to separate him from Brandr. Closing in both of them.
“Why aren’t they pulling back?” Adam shouted, and fired on one of the giants. He saw red bloom on the creature’s ribs, but it didn’t stop as it continued storming right for Kanmi and Minori, reaching their motorcar. Reached down. Flipped the vehicle easily to its side, and bellowed at the two sorcerers over the vehicle that shielded it from them. Oh, god. This is . . . really not good.
“Bear-warriors don’t run!” Sigrun shouted back, sounding harried. “Why do you think Rome lost three full legions up here, centuries ago, down to the last man?” Storm clouds began to darken the perfect blue of the sky, and the rune-marks glowed on her skin.
“Lassair, talk to me! Tren, Sig, get in the fight!”
They are not spirits. They are spirit-and-flesh conjoined. Stormborn! You can see them as I do! Use your other eyes!
Sigrun’s voice was shaken. “She is correct. These are—were—men.”
“Illusion?” Adam took careful aim, this time for the brutish head. Fired, double-tap this time, and, with a grim satisfaction, saw half the creature’s face disappear in a mass of red. However, while it staggered, it turned away from Kanmi and Min, one functional eye focusing on Adam. It opened what was left of its mouth to roar at him, before charging Adam, leaving its two fellows to attack the sorcerers. One was a two-headed creature that couldn’t decide which way to go around the car to get to them. The other was a hairier and even more brutish beast, which picked up a boulder the size of a small child, and lofted it at Kanmi. He and Min ducked, and they shattered boulder into gravel mid-air, which then pattered to the ground in a hail of pebbles.
Adam pulled the trigger on the giant charging him, adjusting his aim up from his usual center-of-mass, knowing that the torso somehow seemed to be armored, in spite of being naked. Another two shots, and his giant fell to the ground, barely ten feet from the hood of his motorcar, just as Trennus and Lassair slipped out of the back seat, and the giant that had flung the boulder at Kanmi and Minori was suddenly engulfed in earth that rose up and flowed around it, reaching up from under the snow bank at the side of the road.. The giant screamed, and fought, frantically. Adam had seen Trennus use his earth-cage on people before, and had seen panic before, but this went beyond anything he had ever encountered. The giant roared, and there seemed to be words buried in the howling.
“Trennus!” Sigrun shouted. “Stop! Leave his face free. Let him breathe!”
Adam didn’t have time to look at her. “Why?” Trennus blurted.
“He’s saying, no, no, not again, please, not again!” Sigrun sounded harried. “Don’t kill him!”
Adam was aiming for one of the two heads of the other giant near Kanmi and Minori now, and fired, methodically, hitting it in the temple and the jaw, even as Minori incanted, rapidly, and winds rose, edged with ice, striking and slashing at the creature’s bare sides. Adam had seen her use that attack before, and the blades of ice usually left a flayed corpse behind. And yet, while the giant was buffeted, its skin wasn’t shredded. And though he’d shot and killed the first head, that only let the second head regain full control of the body, as the creature now picked up the car and prepared to bring it down on Kanmi and Minori, who raised their hands as one, pulling up a soap-bubble dome over their heads . . . .
A lightning bolt slammed down from
above, the force of the thunder knocking everyone back. The bolt electrified the metal of the vehicle, and the two-headed creature staggered back, howling, and then crumpled to the ground, the car landing on top of it with a shearing sound.
Past that, six wolves still had Brandr and Erikir at bay, and Adam could see one of the wolves dart in from behind and clamp down on the back of Erikir’s thigh, a hamstring attempt. “Regroup!” Adam shouted, darting a look around, trying to see the whole field of battle.
The three remaining giants, the ones pinned by the tree Kanmi had hurled, and that Minori had ignited atop their bodies like a reversed pyre, had struggled out from under the tree, and, beating the fire out on their bodies, were retreating now. Their ambush had failed, and they were canny enough to use the forest for cover, and wait to see if they could circle around again. Trennus had one giant caged, face free, and its roars still echoed in the air around them as it struggled. Cracks appeared in the earthen cage. “Need eyes on the giants. Tren, keep that one locked down.”
I follow! That was Saraid, surprisingly, and the glowing, centaur-like form that the spirit now affected appeared, bolting off into the woods, following the fleeing giants. Ephemeral and swift, she couldn’t be harmed, and would alert them if they were about to be attacked from behind. Adam crouched and ran forward to the cover of the wrecked car, and the dead giant under it, even as Kanmi, Minori, and Sig did the same. The two bear-warriors were trying to stay back-to-back against the wolves, but the massive creatures were surprisingly swift, and quick to dart in from the side and bite down on anything they could . . . and if they didn’t, they hung back, and exhaled clouds of frozen death at the pair. Brandr was bleeding from a dozen bites. So was Erikir. But the white fur of every wolf was matted with blood, and the bear-warriors were clearly using their battle-rage, not at the mercy of it.
The Goddess Denied (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 2) Page 20