The Song of the Ash Tree- The Complete Saga

by T L Greylock

  Raef nodded and found the young woman was looking at him expectantly. He did not know what to say.

  “I am sorry for your trouble.”

  “What should I do?”

  As lord, he should have an answer. As lord, he should protect her. Raef could not protect her from Ragnarök. Whatever the truth of what her husband’s brother had seen and heard, Raef did not doubt that something had disturbed the valley and brought both brothers to their deaths.

  “Tell me your name.”

  “Brama.”

  “Is your sister far away, Brama?”

  Brama nodded, her long brown hair falling across her face. She brushed it aside.

  “I do not think it is safe to travel any great distances,” Raef said, forming his answer as he spoke. “How much food do you have?”

  Brama considered for a moment. “With just me, plenty.” She shivered a little and Raef wondered when the hearth had gone cold and if grief had kept her from rekindling it.

  “Then stay here, where it is safe.” The lie tasted foul on Raef’s tongue, but he had nothing else to offer her. “Come, show me your stores while my friend starts a fire to keep you warm.” Guiding her with his arm, Raef led Brama out of the house. As she blinked back the sudden light, Raef whispered for Vakre to carry wood inside and light a fire. Vakre nodded his understanding and brought Siv inside, and Raef kept Brama occupied, nodding as she showed him the small storehouse and the cured meat hanging above the winter vegetables, nuts, cheese, and dried fruit, until he judged enough time had passed for a man without Vakre’s talent to start a fire. Even so, the flames were tall and the house already filled with warmth when Raef and Brama returned, though if she noticed she said nothing.

  “Will you stay?” Though Brama mourned her husband, it was clear their presence was welcome. “Perhaps I can help your friend,” she said, motioning to Siv, who sat, listless, in a chair.

  “Thank you, but we must go on,” Raef said. Brama nodded and Raef hesitated after lifting Siv into his arms. “I will ask Frigg to keep your husband safe.” It was a wasted promise. Karvol was dead, he was sure, and Frigg would not notice such a small plea amidst the turmoil in Asgard, not when her own husband was preparing to face the great wolf, Fenrir. But it seemed to give Brama some comfort, even though Raef was sure she, too, knew her husband was not coming back. He wondered if she had noticed the absence of the moon. They exchanged farewells, and then Raef was mounted once more, ready to push onward.

  “If we ride through the night, we will reach the coast and the Old Troll by midday tomorrow,” Raef said to Vakre, who was taking a turn with Siv on his lap. “We will stop when the moon,” Raef paused, realizing his error, “when the last of the light has gone, and rest the horses and ourselves for the final stretch of the journey.”

  They rested at a merging of two streams as the sky grew deep and dark and the long reach of the sun’s rays slipped at last over the western hills, black and stark on the glowing horizon. As the horses drank, Raef crushed the dried flowers Vakre had found and added the powder to Siv’s skin of water. She was awake and alert enough to swallow when Raef lifted it to her lips.

  “Elder flowers,” Raef said. Siv gave a weak nod and took a sip from her skin. It was a stronger remedy than the yellowhorn he had suggested to the boys Eddri and Tjorvi, but harder to come by in winter. “You must eat. The flowers will unsettle your stomach.” Siv had swallowed no more than a few mouthfuls of cheese and meat in the past three days. She nodded again but her gaze drifted from Raef to the early stars above them. “You need your strength, Siv,” Raef said, drawing her attention once more. “And I need you to be strong.”

  She accepted the meat he handed her. “The stars are bright,” she murmured, and Raef looked and saw it was true, as though they burned hotter to compensate for the loss of the moon.

  They rode onward through the black world and Raef waited and waited for the sun to come and release the shadows. The hours passed, measured by the light of the stars and by the hills they wove through and still the darkness persisted. A knot of primal terror grew and twisted in Raef’s stomach and neither he nor Vakre said a word, refusing to give life to the dread swirling within.

  The hour of the sun had long come and gone without a change in the sky when Raef could deny it no longer. He looked to Vakre and saw his thoughts mirrored there. The endless night was upon them.

  Thirty-Five

  “Strange, that the moon should go out with a shudder and a howl, and the sun in silence,” Vakre said. The darkness seemed to press on Raef, crushing him, and Vakre’s voice sounded muted to his ears.

  Without thinking, Raef drew back on his reins and his horse came to a halt. Vakre circled around, watching Raef.

  “What will there be left to save, without a sun?”

  It was a question that had not come to him until that moment of loss, but now it consumed him.

  “Without light and warmth, the world will wither and die, even if there is a way to spare it from Ragnarök. I have failed. I am too late.”

  Vakre stretched one hand out, palm to the stars, and a flicker of light bloomed there. Siv stirred in Raef’s arms. The elder flowers had helped her sleep. It was too early to tell if it would calm the fever.

  “What is it? What has happened?” Siv asked, struggling to sit up straighter.

  Raef found he could not answer, his tongue dry in his mouth, his throat tight.

  “The morning has not come,” Vakre said. The tiny flames still danced on his skin. The son of Loki looked away from his fire and glanced at Siv, then fixed his gaze on Raef. “It will not come.” He let the fire spread until it reached his elbow. “Perhaps there is another way.”

  “What do you mean?” Raef asked.

  Vakre was quiet for a long moment. He dismounted, his arm still burning, then with a flick of his wrist, the fire went out, leaving them in sudden darkness. Raef lowered Siv to the ground, then swung himself out of the saddle to look Vakre in the eyes.

  “When my father took me to the mountains of the far north, when he made me open the heart of the mountain and release Freyja’s army, he told me something of my future.” Vakre was utterly still as he spoke. “I had forgotten because I would not trust a word from Loki’s mouth, and it seemed not to matter, for it is a future that all can claim. He said I would know pain and suffering. I asked him what man or woman does not and he laughed in reply.” Raef felt a wave of heat surge from Vakre’s skin. “But I think perhaps he told the truth, though he could not have foreseen this moment, for I can think of no greater pain and suffering than to burn forever.”

  Raef’s heart dropped to his stomach and he forgot to draw breath as he comprehended Vakre’s words.

  “Could you?” Siv asked. Her voice was stronger than Raef had heard in days, but he was supporting nearly all her weight. “Burn forever, I mean?”

  “Only one way to know the answer to that.”

  “But you said it does not hurt.”

  Vakre nodded. “Not here,” he said, touching the skin of his palm. “But here,” he brought his fingers to his head, then lowered them to rest over his heart, “and here most of all.” His gaze shifted to Raef. “That is why I asked you to end it all.”

  “Then you cannot,” Raef said, finding his voice. “It is too much to bear, Vakre.” Whether he spoke of Vakre’s suffering or his own sorrow at the prospect of saying a final farewell, Raef did not know.

  “What other choice is there? You will reach the Old Troll soon, but a sun must rise, or there is no hope.”

  Raef blinked. “The rising sun,” he said softly, remembering. “Something Anuleif said, though I do not think he understood. He left because he said he could not remain in the land of the rising sun. I thought he misspoke.” Raef stared at Vakre. “He knew. He knew without understanding, without even knowing what you are.”

  A silence spread between them and Raef’s grief raged against the hope Vakre had kindled.

  “What will you do?” Raef ask
ed at length.

  Vakre looked to the line of hills to the north. “I think I must find higher ground.”

  **

  Raef did not watch as Vakre and Siv shared a goodbye. He heard Siv whisper something, heard Vakre’s easy, warm response, a laugh even, as the tightness in his own chest threatened to steal all breath away. When he turned back to face them, Siv was smiling and Vakre looked content.

  They left Siv with the horses, her bow strung and resting across her lap should she need to defend herself, a knife and her sword in reach. There was no question that she had to stay. In her weakened state, Raef and Vakre would have had to take turns carrying her on the climb, slowing their progress. Raef leaned over her and kissed her, glad to see some strength in her face even though her skin was still feverish, and then he and Vakre set off.

  Vakre led the way and with every step Raef could feel the son of Loki growing warmer, the heat radiating off his back until Raef had to fall back in search of cooler air. He did not think Vakre was conscious of the change.

  The first crow was nothing more than a rush of wings across the stars, though Raef heard it settle on a branch somewhere above them, heard the gentle croak in its throat. It was the first bird he had seen or heard since the day in Narvik when the birds had risen to the sky in a swarm of wings and flown west. Its sudden presence made Raef uneasy, though he could not have said why. If it watched them, if they passed right under it, Raef did not know, and soon they were approaching the edge of the trees and heading into the high reaches of the hills. He breathed more easily once they passed out from the tree cover and came under the open embrace of the night sky.

  They paused on a shoulder of rock. Above them the summits were still far away. Even in the dark Raef could see the air around Vakre shimmer with heat. Vakre’s gaze, though it rested on Raef, seemed very far away.

  “I will go on alone. You must reach the coast.”

  Raef nodded, not trusting his voice. For a moment, they looked at each other, then Vakre extended his hand. Raef, his heart pounding, reached out and grasped Vakre’s forearm. In that touch, Vakre’s heat vanished and Raef wrapped his other arm around Vakre’s shoulders, pulling him close in a fierce embrace. Neither said anything, though Raef’s mind ran with words, words that were not enough, and he held his silence, lest speaking break him.

  As they released each other, the warmth rushed back into Vakre with sudden force and Raef had to yank back his hand as Vakre’s palm grew too hot to touch. He stepped out of reach of the heat but his eyes remained locked with Vakre’s.

  At last the son of Loki took a deep breath, exhaled, and then turned to face the hills above. He had gone only three steps when he stopped and faced Raef once more. Only then did Raef see the fear in him, see how it had caught him up in its cold grasp, see how it threatened to tear him apart.

  “I am afraid.” The words came out hoarse and shaken. Vakre tried to laugh, but it was a mangled, broken thing that lifted neither of their hearts. “I am afraid of what it will feel like to burn forever. I am afraid of what I will remember.” He stared, unblinking, at Raef, as though he dared not look away. “And what I will forget.”

  Vakre was shaking, his control weakening, and Raef felt his very blood tremble. “I should have honored the promise you asked of me. I should have ended your suffering in that moment, spared you from an eternity of torment.”

  With visible effort, Vakre steeled himself. “No, no. If you had done as I asked, the world would be a dark place.”

  “I would live in darkness if it meant peace for you,” Raef said, a sudden vehemence rushing through him.

  “I told you once that you cannot save us all, Raef,” Vakre said, his voice gentle. “My fear will pass.” Vakre looked to the sky. “It will be lonely.” He dropped his gaze to Raef once more. “Perhaps I will make friends with the stars.”

  There were no more words, it seemed to Raef, nothing but grief. Vakre held his gaze for a long moment. When he turned his back for a second time, he did not look back.

  Raef watched him go, unwilling to leave until Vakre had climbed too high, too far into the darkness for Raef to follow him with his eyes.

  He was yet in sight when the wings passed over Raef, the sudden stir of air in the still night raising the hair on the back of Raef’s neck. Raef glanced to the sky just as the flock of crows turned, twisting as one in the air, and dove at him. He ducked the first pass but the birds doubled back and rushed him again. This time their wings beat against his face and arms as he tried to shield himself, and on the third pass their talons and beaks found his skin, raking his forearms. So relentless was their assault that Raef could not draw his sword for fear of exposing his eyes to their sharp beaks. With one arm covering his face, he tried to beat them back, flailing blindly against the storm of wings. If he struck one, another replaced it, and Raef dropped to his knees, his arms and neck stinging where he bled. As he hit the ground, the flurry of wings grew silent and Raef drew his sword from its scabbard as he opened his eyes.

  The crows stood on the ground around him, their black eyes staring, their feathers glossy in the starlight. They made no move, no sound, and Raef, sensing a breath of something behind him, spun.

  The figure was difficult to make out. It was robed in a darkness that moved as though alive and Raef was reminded of the sea foam that the giantess Barra had worn when at last he saw her in the feeble light of Jötunheim. But this was no sea foam; it was midnight bereft of stars.

  The face, regal and cold, was unknown to Raef, though the piercing eyes he found there seemed somehow familiar. It was a man, or something like a man, tall and handsome, flawless.

  “Where is my son?” The voice began as a terrible thunder, beating on Raef, and ended like rain falling on green hills. A beautiful voice, but deadly. Loki.

  The god laughed at Raef’s silence and the crows croaked along with him, their voices chilling Raef’s blood. Any of Vakre’s heat that had lingered on him was gone. “Hold your tongue if you like. It matters not. I will find him.” But Loki lingered and Raef began to see the uncertainty in the god’s eyes. Loki took a step toward Raef, who willed himself to hold his ground, head high, gaze unrelenting. “I see the workings of your mind, human. You are scheming at something.” There was frustration in Loki’s voice now, and anger. “I will peel you to the core to discover it, exposing your every hope and joy, your deepest fears and scars.”

  “I spilled your blood once, Loki, I can do it again.” Raef’s snarl ripped across the air between them and set the crows cawing.

  The god laughed again, a mirthful sea at storm, delighting in his own superiority. “In that weakened form, yes, yes, you drew a drop of blood. Try again, boy, and see what I am made of.” Loki seemed to grow before Raef’s eyes and against his will he took half a step back as the god filled his vision. “Or better yet, I will show you the true form of Loki, the form I was born in, the form that will bring destruction to the nine realms, the form that the eyes of humans cannot endure.” The darkness that cloaked Loki began to hum and flicker, but then the god grew still, as though he was reconsidering, and the midnight he wore was still and quiet, too.

  “Where is my son?” he asked again, and Raef again sensed Loki’s doubt.

  “He will be greater than you soon.”

  To Raef’s surprise, Loki did not shake this off, did not laugh at Raef’s bold words. His pale eyes narrowed. “The gods cannot be saved from their fate.”

  “I know.”

  “Then what is it that you want?” Loki shouted.

  Before Raef could reply, the crows took flight, their frantic wing beats taking them up, up the slopes above Raef and Loki, up to the high places where Vakre had disappeared. Without thinking, Raef began to run, certain the crows knew where to find Vakre and desperate to defend him, to keep the sun alive long enough to be born.

  He was slammed to the ground by an unseen force before he had gone five steps and though he struggled to rise, a great weight kept him pressed
to the snow. Raef cried out in pain.

  “The crows are agents of fate, Skallagrim. You cannot stop them.” From the edge of Raef’s vision he could see that Loki was gazing into the darkness. “And I think they have found my son.”

  “But you can stop them.” The words came out in a crush of air as Raef fought to stand.

  Loki moved without Raef seeing, suddenly crouched next to Raef, their faces almost touching, Loki’s hand clutching Raef’s cloak. “Why should I?”

  The pressure on Raef’s body vanished and he sucked in a breath before answering. “Because he goes to destroy himself.” The truth came rushing out and Raef could not hide the pride he felt. “Because he goes to take the sun’s place in the sky.”

  Loki did not move, did not draw back, but was quiet for a moment. “So, this is what you intend.” Raef held the god’s gaze. “It is in vain. There is no dawn for these realms.” Silence.

  And then Raef was lifted from the ground, the earth shifted beneath him, the sky spun, and when he could see again, he found he was high above the place where Loki had come upon him. The crows swarmed overhead, dark wings blotting out the stars. Loki held tight to Raef, still, his eyes not leaving Raef’s face, and then the crows went silent and began to fall from the sky. One by one they dropped as though turned to stone and they did not rise again. Only when the last crow hit the snow, its heart gone cold and quiet, did Loki release Raef.

  “There,” the god said, stepping back. “I have spared him from the crows.”

  “Why?”

  Loki looked up to the crest of a hill above them. A fire burst into life there, distant and small, but Raef’s heart erupted with joy. When he looked at Loki again, the coldness there turned his blood to ice. “Because now you have your hope. And when it is crushed at last in the defeat of Odin, in your defeat, my victory will be all the more complete.”

  Raef did not quail before Loki’s words. “I have looked into the eye of the Allfather. I do not fear you.” Raef stepped close to the god and looked up into that pale, handsome face. “Heimdall is waiting for you.”