‘What’s happening?’ said Maggie.
Maddy shook her head. ‘I think that when we finished the Cradle, we weren’t just building a fortress. We were trying to re-establish Order in the Nine Worlds. We remade the First World, where the Æsir can take back their Aspects and push back the shadows of Chaos …’
Maggie looked at the black bird. It had almost withdrawn, but for a single wing-tip. Fenris, his Devourer Aspect fearsome to behold, made a lunge at the tip of the wing. There was a tearing, rending sound. The black bird vanished into the cloud.
‘I think it lost some feathers,’ she said.
Maddy grinned. ‘I think it did.’
Sleipnir was moving faster now, ready to take the sisters home. Fenris, snarling, jaws agape, gave one last snap at the shadowcloud and leaped back onto the battlements, his Aspect changing from that of a demon wolf to that of a pale young man in World’s End garb, wearing an earring shaped like a skull.
‘Fenny! Dude!’ The Wolf Brothers were delirious with happiness. ‘You totally owned that shadow-thing …’
‘I mean, you were, like – grrr, woawr—’
‘Fierce!’
‘Yeah! Totally fierce …’
‘Why are they talking like that?’ Maggie said, stepping down from Sleipnir’s back onto Asgard’s parapet.
But Maddy had something else on her mind. She stepped up to the Fenris Wolf, who was already on his way to explore his new hall in Asgard – as imagined by the Wolf Brothers, and lavishly decorated with skulls (as far as the Wolf Brothers were concerned, skulls were the design concept of the future).
He saw her coming. ‘Er, yeah …’ he said.
Maddy knew what that meant. ‘You’re sure?’ she said in a small voice, thinking that maybe he was wrong, that Sugar might somehow have survived, as Odin had on the shores of Hel. He was a creature of Faërie, she thought. Chaos should have been in his blood. And Fenris had survived, after all …
Fenny shrugged. ‘I’m sure,’ he said. ‘He did pretty good for a noob, though.’
Maddy nodded silently. Tears were burning her eyelids. It seemed so very hard to believe that Sugar-and-Sack was gone for good. Odin’s death on the shores of Hel had left her under a cloud of grief; but the death of the little goblin felt like a bruise on Maddy’s soul. Perhaps because Sugar had been the final link between Asgard and Malbry; or maybe simply because of the fact that a cowardly goblin from under the Hill had shown the heart of an oliphant.
At Asgard’s gates, the shadowcloud was already starting to move away. A pale glow in the eastern sky had begun to light the horizon. A brisk little wind started to blow; soon, Maddy thought, all traces of the shadowcloud would be blown away.
Maggie was looking down at World’s End. Soon that too would be clear of the cloud. The survivors would start to rebuild in their turn. Maybe this time they could create a wiser, kinder, happier place. Maybe this time they’d get it right.
All around Maddy came sounds of celebration from the gods. As Order re-established itself, all her friends hastened to explore what lay in the new Asgard. Built from memory and Dream, it was not the same as the original Sky Citadel, although of course it had Aspects of that. But it also had Aspects of World’s End, including the whole of St Sepulchre’s Square, the fountain and the cathedral, as well as a stretch of the Water Rats (probably dreamed up by Perth); and Aspects of Malbry, including Red Horse Hill in late summer and several of its houses, among them the Parsonage, which Ethel had dreamed slightly larger (and with that new wallpaper she’d always been meaning to hang).
There was a version of Jed Smith’s forge, transformed into something a little more grand, with a series of dressing rooms for Sif and a large, vaulted banqueting hall for when Thor’s friends came round. There was also a chamber for Jolly, who, retaining his goblin Aspect, had demanded a place of his own, not too far away from Thor, but well-supplied with plenty of ale and some pies, in case he got peckish.
Angie had her own hall, as promised, close to Ironwood, which the Wolf Brothers had brought (at least in part) and positioned not far from Skadi’s domain – a natural habitat for wolves.
In fact, all the gods and their allies had imagined their ideal surroundings, which meant that the new Sky Citadel was a strange and colourful patchwork of mountains and caves, turrets and tunnels, fragments of city and rural retreats, all packed into an area which, if it had been forced to obey the strictest rules of space and scale, might have covered, at best, a few square miles.
Luckily the rules of Dream are fluid, like its substance, and given that Asgard was built from dreams, everyone had what they dreamed of most. Bragi had a concert hall, Idun a series of gardens and groves. Heimdall had a lighthouse, Skadi a labyrinth of caves. Njörd had an underwater hall, Frey a banqueting hall, Freyja a hall of mirrors. Nan had her old cottage, her cats, her spinning wheel and Epona. And Perth (as well as his hideaway at the Water Rats) had the University, now even grander than before, with a bell tower for his ravens and a personal study and library in which to retreat when the responsibilities of office became too demanding.
Only two people had no hall: Maggie, because she had come too late to contribute anything much more than glam; and Loki, who had never had a hall in Asgard in the first place, and whose energy had mostly gone into trying to break the Wedlock.
Of course, he’d failed to do that, and now he found himself standing in front of the place that Sigyn had dreamed for them. It looked like the cave by the Sleepers, but larger and more practical, with a little cabbage-patch by the door and a stream running behind it. It was simple and cheerful and modest – in fact it was everything that the Trickster most despised – and yet there was something pleasant about it, something almost relaxing.
He glanced at the Wedlock on his hand. Even in Aspect, he couldn’t take it off. But maybe he could live with that.
He took a step towards the door. Sigyn was sitting inside, on a chair. Her long brown hair fell loose onto the shoulders of her white dress. Once again Loki thought how very beautiful she was. It wasn’t a typical thought, and might have disturbed him in different circumstances, but today he was feeling unusual – But after all, he told himself, it isn’t often that you come back from the dead, beat Hel at her own game, give Pan-daemonium a kicking, and rebuild Asgard, all in a day …
Sigyn looked up as he came in. ‘Sweetheart,’ she said. ‘What took you so long?’ She stood up and kissed him on the mouth. The sensation was really quite pleasant, he thought – after all, it had been five hundred years since anyone had wanted to do anything with his mouth except perhaps to shut it for good.
He closed his eyes. Sigyn’s hands linked together in the small of his back and pressed, and for the first time in over five hundred years the Trickster surrendered to something like …
Love?
And then came a sound from behind them, and Loki’s eyes snapped open again.
In the doorway, hand in hand, stood two little boys – aged maybe three or four, with bright red hair and eyes of identical flame-green. Loki recognized the boys he’d seen in the dream he’d shared with Sigyn; and thinking back five hundred years, he thought of his sons, and how they had died so long ago, and how he’d seen them in Hel’s domain …
They killed us, they’d told him that day in Hel. They killed us both because of you.
Loki shook his head. ‘No. They died. Sig, it’s impossible.’
Sigyn smiled. ‘They died,’ she agreed. ‘But Hel was open, its Guardian fled – and besides, didn’t the prophecy say: Nothing dreamed is ever lost, and nothing lost for ever?’
A terrible thought occurred to him. ‘You don’t think Balder might be back?’
‘Stranger things have happened.’
Not for the first time that long, hard day, Loki was at a loss for words. ‘So now I’m a father again?’ he said. ‘Because we all know how that works out …’
Sigyn laughed. ‘Sweetheart,’ she said. ‘You’re so negative. You get a chance to start again, wit
h a wife who thinks the Worlds of you, two lovely children and your dream home – and you’re being all passive-aggressive about it. Now come and say hello to the boys, and I’ll make a start on dinner.’
Loki’s mouth went suddenly dry. Perfect, he thought. It sounds perfect.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
‘Er – gotta check on Maddy,’ he said; and, shifting to hawk Aspect as if all Hel were on his tail, he fled from his dream home with barely a pang of regret, having decided right at that moment that perfection was really not his style – and landing five minutes later by a small and somewhat familiar part of what had once been Little Bear Wood, where Maddy was sitting alone by a tree and sobbing as if her heart would break.
‘What’s up?’ said Loki, reverting to Aspect (of course, fully clothed in Asgard).
Maddy turned her face away.
Loki sat down on the mossy ground. ‘You’re not going home?’ he said at last.
‘This is it,’ Maddy said, with a listless gesture. ‘Everything I could save, at least: Red Horse Hill, and Little Bear Wood, and my father’s cottage, and the Seven Sleepers Inn, and that funny little crossing place on the road to Farnley Tyas …’
Loki shrugged. ‘Each to his own. Apparently, mine is a dream home.’ He looked at the Wedlock on his hand. ‘I’m going to build myself a shed,’ he told her with a sudden grin. ‘Preferably somewhere a long way away …’
Maddy gave a tired smile. ‘I can’t believe Sugar’s gone. I still half expect to see him, you know, peering out from behind a tree.’
Loki grinned. ‘A cellar, more like. Especially if there’s an inn nearby.’
Maddy’s eyes widened. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said—’ began Loki. ‘Hey, where are you going?’
Maddy was already on her feet. ‘The cellar,’ she said in a choking voice. ‘That’s it, Loki – the cellar!’
The cellar was dark and smelled of rats. Loki wasn’t at all impressed.
‘Well, if I were building a dream home, I’d try to fix it up, at least.’ He glanced at the brick-lined floor, where a hole the size of a fox-hole gaped, and a messy strew of rubble, earth, pieces of brick and broken kegs littered the storage area. ‘Must have had a party,’ he said, tapping one of the empty kegs. ‘Looks like someone had a good time.’
But Maddy wasn’t listening. Instead, she knelt at the mouth of the hole, heedless of dust and spiders, and whispered something into the dark.
‘I name you Smá-rakki,’ she whispered.
Silence. Just the empty house.
‘A named thing is a tamed thing,’ said Maddy. ‘Sugar-and-Sack – oh please, if you’re there …’
There came the smallest of movements from behind the pile of kegs. Maddy turned, her eyes alight.
‘It’s only a rat,’ said Loki.
Maddy stood up, shaking her head. ‘I know rats,’ she whispered. ‘Sugar, are you there?’ And then she pushed the keg aside (finding it suspiciously light), revealing a small bewhiskered face and eyes of a curious wedding-ring gold beneath a battered helmet. Maddy saw that the runemark Tyr no longer shone from his signature.
‘Now I know what yer going to say, miss.’ The goblin held out his furry hands. ‘But I swear – on my Captain’s life – I dunno what happened to all this ale—’
‘Sugar!’ cried Maddy, sweeping him up.
‘Oy!’ protested the goblin.
‘I thought you were dead!’ Maddy said, beginning to cry all over again.
Sugar gave her a cautious look. Clearly she was crazy. But she did have a powerful glam, and …
‘Captain?’ he said as Loki emerged from the shadows under the cellar steps.
Loki grinned. ‘None other,’ he said. ‘Back from the dead, and fabulous— What in Hel are you crying at now?’ That was to Maddy, who couldn’t seem to control her tears, although she was half laughing too at the look of confusion on Sugar’s face.
‘He doesn’t remember, does he?’ she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘Remember what?’ said Sugar.
‘Oh, nothing,’ Maddy said. ‘Just that you helped save the Worlds – twice. That you took on the Aspect of Brave-Hearted Tyr, that you rode against Surt on a demon wolf, that you died in battle, that you were my friend …’
Sugar’s eyes were like saucers now. ‘I did all that?’
‘All that, and more.’
Sugar eyed her doubtfully. ‘That ale must be stronger than I thought. You sure you haven’t had some yerself, miss? ’Cos ale can have very narsty effects on them as isn’t used to drinking it.’
Maddy smiled. ‘I’ll bear that in mind …’
‘I don’t mind bein’ your friend, though.’
‘That’s all right, then,’ Maddy said.
She went back out into the sunlight.
NOW A SINGLE figure remained standing on Asgard’s battlements. As the shadow slowly cleared and Æsir and Vanir explored their new territories, Maggie Rede was left alone, looking down on World’s End. The Rainbow Bridge, once more rebuilt, spanned the gap between earth and sky in a dazzling band of coloured light. And as the shadowcloud dispersed, rain fell softly on World’s End.
A tremendous feeling of weariness now fell like a blanket over her, and the tears she had not shed for Adam now began to run down her face. Not really for Adam, Maggie thought; or for the ruins of World’s End, or even for her unborn child, who would never know his father …
A shadow fell on the parapet. Someone was standing behind her. A tall figure, blue-cloaked, his eyes half hidden beneath his hat. There was a scar across his left eye, where Maggie’s glam had struck him; it looked just like the rune Raedo, and shone with a dim luminescence.
Odin in Allfather Aspect still looked a lot like Perth. Maddy, if she’d been there, would have known that he also looked like One-Eye; but younger, stronger, and yet more alone, remote and somehow forbidding. Hugin and Munin fluttered down onto the battlements and crawk-ed.
‘So. You got what you wanted, then,’ Maggie said, still looking down at World’s End.
This is what the Firefolk see, she told herself silently. Little fields. Little streets. An ocean like a cloak of blue. How small it all is! How very small!
Odin gave a weary sigh. Idun’s fruit might heal his wounds, but it could do nothing for his aching heart. ‘Yes. I got what I wanted,’ he said. ‘At a price. And you?’
‘A hall in Asgard. You promised me. And safety for my baby.’
‘I keep my word,’ said Odin. ‘Even though the child you bear may live to make us both sorry.’
Maggie looked up at that. ‘My sister said that my child was possessed. That the Whisperer was just using me to get back into Asgard.’ She lowered her voice and went on. ‘Just as it used Adam,’ she said, ‘to get to the runes in the Kissing Stone.’
Odin shrugged. ‘She may be wrong.’
‘You don’t think so, do you?’ she said.
‘No, Maggie. I don’t think so.’
Maggie considered Odin’s words. Something inside her believed him – was actually convinced of the truth. And yet what she felt for the tiny life that was growing steadily inside her was so overwhelming, so potent, that the truth was barely relevant.
Whatever it might one day become, whatever might be wrong with it, this was her child – Adam’s child – and she would protect it with her life. Anything that possessed it – as Adam too had been possessed – would first have Maggie to deal with, and that would be no easy task. Maggie Rede, as once was; then Maggie Goodwin; Magni, the Oak; and now, at last, Maggie Scattergood, widow and mother of World’s End.
‘I’m keeping my child,’ said Maggie.
‘Of course you are,’ Odin said.
‘And I’m calling him Adam, after his father.’
Odin gave a twisted smile.
‘But as for that hall in Asgard’ – she lifted her granite-gold eyes to his – ‘I don’t think I’m going to need it right now. At least,
not for a while.’
Odin said nothing, but his good eye was alight with speculation.
Maggie went on: ‘You promised me that the Firefolk would do no harm to me, or my son.’
Odin nodded. ‘You have my word.’
‘Then take me home,’ Maggie said, stepping down from the parapet. ‘Tell my sister I said goodbye, and tell her not to look for me. I’ll find her if – when – the time comes.’
Odin looked at her. ‘Home?’ he said.
Maggie nodded. ‘Where else would I go? That’s where I want my son to be born. In World’s End, where his father died. Besides’ – she gave a wry little smile – ‘who else is there to rebuild the place? To unearth the library, raise the dome, reopen the University – after all, if I can raise Asgard from Dream, World’s End should be a piece of cake.’
Odin gave a low laugh. ‘You’re very like your sister,’ he said.
‘Tell her I’ll see her again some day.’
And at that Maggie stepped onto Bif-rost, and with a quick flick of the rune Raedo – the rune of roads still to be travelled, of riders in the wake of the storm, of journeymen and explorers and gods – she was gone, down the rainbow and into the mists of World’s End.
‘BUT WHY?’ SAID Maddy once more when she arrived to find Maggie gone. ‘Why would she do that? Leave this place? Leave her friends, her family! For gods’ sakes, she’s seventeen. She’s pregnant. She’s completely alone. And if we’re right, the Whisperer—’
‘If we’re right, then World’s End is the best place for her,’ said Odin in a calm voice. ‘If the Whisperer has taken hold of her child, then all we can do is try to keep that child from entering Asgard. Because if it ever finds its way here, and Mimir regains his Aspect, then we will have civil war on our hands, and the Order for which we fought so hard will descend once more into Chaos.’
Maddy was silent for a while. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s not over, then.’
‘Maddy, it’s never over.’
They sat for a while in silence, watching the light bloom over World’s End. The shadow had completely dispersed; the rain had stopped and now the sun shone faintly through the ring of white clouds that hedged the Sky Citadel.
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