by Matt Larkin
For decades, the Serkland Caliphate had pressed deeper and deeper in Andalus, stripping away at the Vallander Empire, the temporary allies of the Aesir.
Lest Serkland become a threat, Odin would need to set plans into motion to cripple their fleet and prevent a full-scale invasion. But as always, a good plan might solve more than one dilemma …
The Miklagardian Empire swelled, even as it rotted from the corruption within, and the terrible secrets held by the Patriarchs and their ancient emperor. Much as they proved implacable foes to the Aesir in the days of old, greater still was the Miklagardian struggle against Serkland. Always, they teetered on the edge of war, and their impenetrable city had weathered many sieges down through the ages.
Given to hubris and acrimony, the Patriarchs harbored undying resentment toward the caliphs. Now, they probably hated Odin even more. One day they would come for him. Before that happened, he would weaken their empire. He would find a way to break their hold on the South Realms and destroy even their corrupt immortality.
A single spark, carefully ignited, might drive them to make an ill-conceived counter-invasion across the Middle Sea and begin war with Serkland. There, the two empires would weaken and thwart each other for years to come while Odin’s grip tightened around the rest of Midgard.
And Midgard was failing. The breaches in the Midgard Wall grew more numerous, and the natives of Bjarmaland had all fallen to the jotunnar. Self-proclaimed jotunn kings now built their own realms in Bjarmaland, slowly spreading outward into Aujum—which itself, abandoned by the Aesir—now seemed a wilderness roamed by trolls and varulfur.
Battles between jotunnar and trolls, both spawn of chaos, well served Odin’s interests. Having the jotunnar press north into Kvenland and bring down that ancient land did not. He would need to take steps to ensure the jotunnar remained contained for the moment.
And what better agent than Thor, who, with Mjölnir, had already struck fear into the hearts of those devourers? Thor would need to recruit new Thunderers and to make certain the jotunnar could not press farther into Midgard.
Merely thinking of his son sent Odin’s vision swirling to reveal Thor, hips pumping furiously as he plowed the girl Odin had fostered with Gylfi. Sif screamed, clawing at Thor’s back. Odin blinked the image away. He had no interest in seeing such things.
What Odin truly sought did not even lie in Midgard but beyond the Veil. It parted before him, unfurling the dead realm of the Penumbra. His vision soared over the endless horde of the dead, shades flitting in and out of darkness, losing themselves slowly or fading into the Roil.
The dead outnumbered the living and, one way or another, he’d find a way to make use of them.
We are all dead …
Yes. And all the living and the dead would serve if needs be, all to ensure victory in Ragnarok. But before that … Odin pushed Audr from his mind and concentrated on Freyja.
His mind plummeted through the Penumbra and into the Roil. From there, he stared up into the perilous sky of the Spirit Realm. Ancient sorcerers speculated some paths might lead there, but Odin had found none. And yet, if he could not tread there, still he might see …
Orbiting above like stars, the spirit worlds shimmered and shined. One of them would be Alfheim.
He had to reach it. This was the ultimate reason the High Seat existed. To focus the Sight into acuity beyond what any prophet might ever achieve, to harness it so that he might …
Dimly, he felt blood trickling down his ears. He was forcing so much of himself into the Seat to achieve this. But no matter how much it took, he had to see her. Just to look upon her face once again might give him the strength to find a way to cross that gap.
His heartbeat grew irregular, painful even, as a chill spread from his chest into his limbs. But he would not give up. Just a little more …
Blinding light filled his eyes, burned them, until he thought himself blinded by the radiance. Blinking, gasping with it, at last images flitted across his vision. Lush greenery like the forests of Asgard, giving way to glittering streams that reflected the burning sky of an eternal dawn.
She was here. She had to be here.
Someone surfaced from beneath the river. A woman with long blonde hair that itself seemed to radiate light, almost coruscating with it. She flung her head back, throwing the water off. And for that bare instant, he saw her, naked and beautiful and … changed.
Freyja.
Suffused with the sunlight of the place he had sent her.
Odin reached a hand toward her. Please, forgive him … Please let her forgive him for what he had to do … To defeat the mists of Hel he had …
Profound vertigo seized him and sent him tumbling through a shifting miasma of images and locations, plummeting out of the Spirit Realm and back into the Roil. And then to Midgard.
Here on Midgard, the disciples of Hel worked to bring about her eternal dominion. Here, Odin’s foes toiled, unaware he now watched their secrets unfold.
So then, his course seemed obvious. Odin needed to bridge the gap to Alfheim, true, but before that, he would set in motion the steps to secure Midgard.
Because now, with the High Seat at his disposal, there was nowhere left his enemies could hide.
Epilogue
Sigyn sat behind their hall when Loki returned, arms wrapped around her knees, trembling with emotions she could probably not even name. She would have heard him coming, of course, and his presence no doubt made it harder at first.
“You knew.” She did not look up at him as she spoke. “You knew, but you were so busy trying to steer Odin’s urd you paid no mind to ours!”
Steer, of course, was the generous view in which she no doubt accredited his role, not yet understanding he was more slave than master, bound to the merciless procession of history. Some had called him a fate spinner, but Loki was trapped by fate as much or more than any other, compelled to watch as civilization after civilization turned to ash. Because the alternative was so much worse.
And Odin needed guidance in any event. With the ravens and High Seat, his mind now reached further than ever before. All of Midgard expanded before him. Before long, Utgard and even the Otherworlds would fall under his eye. And in his ever-expanding reach, he might well stretch beyond his own limits and imperil all mankind.
Loki settled down beside her. “Had I remained here, naught I could have done would have changed the boy’s situation. I am not a god, Sigyn. Seeing glimpses of the future does not allow me to change it.”
“Then why do aught at all? If you are so very powerless, why bother trying?”
He tried not to recoil from the spite in her voice. In more pain than she could deal with, she was lashing out at anyone close. Even knowing that, it still stung. “That is a discussion for another time, I think. For now, should we not talk of our son?”
“Hödr. His name is Hödr.”
“A good name.”
“A good son! And I swear to you, I will find a way to save him.”
Loki patted her knee. “What makes you think he needs saving?”
She slapped his hand away and stood, hands on her hips. “Our son is blind. I will not allow him to live an unfulfilled life!”
“And you believe blindness would deny him meaning in his life? All lives are different, Sigyn. All are fraught with difficulties of one kind or another. No man or woman experiences quite the same tribulations, but we do all face them.”
“Spare me the philosophical musings! If you know of no way to help him, then I will find one.”
Loki sighed, letting his head fall into his hands. “Be careful that desperation does not lead you down perilous roads. You cannot help your child by risking yourself. Believe me, I know the pain of seeing your progeny suffer—and I know the parent’s anguish always exceeds that of the child. I have seen too many men and women fall into darkness because of it.”
“You are not a mother.”
“Perhaps not.” He rose, slowly. “But if you mean to imply th
at, having never been a mother, I cannot fully understand a mother’s anguish, then, you must also accept that you have never been a father.”
She spread her hands. “And where does that leave us?”
“Together, of course, that we might try to bridge the gap.” He reached a hand out toward her, but she didn’t take it.
“You want to share our pain together?” Sigyn shook her head slowly, glaring. “You have yet refused to unveil the barest hint of your past or your real intentions for the future. How am I to expect you to commiserate with me when you hide so much of yourself?”
Loki flinched. There was truth to her words, guided by pain though they were. And perhaps he could no longer delay giving her something, some hint, as she called it, even if he could never tell her the full truth. A tremble built in his chest at the thought of it, and he stilled himself against the wall.
“I … You are right. So, then … there is something you need to know now. Something … about Hel.”
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Matt Larkin
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Matt Larkin
Author’s Ramblings
The High Seat of Asgard opens the middle trilogy in the whole Ragnarok Era saga. This trilogy focuses on—among other things—the Volsung Saga. The nature of Sigmund’s story, being spread out over so many years, created several challenges. This actually proved to be one of the most difficult books I’ve ever written—certainly the most difficult I took all the way to publication. While the overall story remained intact through all the various iterations, I went through numerous structural revisions trying to figure out the most logical way to present events and still follow the basic story structure found in the other books.
In the end, what I wound up with was using flashbacks, told out of chronological order (kind of like Lost), even though they occur in order for any given character. For example, Odin’s flashbacks mostly occur before those of Sigmund or Sif.
Speaking of Sif, an early decision I struggled with was whether Sif or Thor made the best point of view character for that part of the story. My initial intent was to use Thor. Everyone knows Thor, right? Thanks to Marvel, the character is hugely popular (hell, I also enjoy the movies a lot, though I’ve tried to make the character here closer to his mythic inspirations). That was actually part of the reason I decided not to use him, but only part.
When I was looking at the tale I wanted to weave, Sif’s side of it just seemed more complex, more pained, and thus, more interesting. This is not to say Thor won’t ever get his side told—he might in later books. But Sif proved the character with the more interesting arc for this book.
Regardless, Sif, in Norse mythology, is actually a fairly minor character. The only substantial story about her is one in which Loki shaves her head as a prank and then—to placate Thor—gets magical golden hair for her from a dwarf. In adapting this little story, I obviously changed it to better fit the nature of the characters in this tale and to try to make it feel more realistic, as I’ve done throughout my adaptation of mythology.
On the same note, in the original myth, the otter that Loki kills (sometimes named Otr) is not the same dwarf as Andvari. Loki is forced to give away the ring to Otr’s family right after stealing it from Andvari. It simply made so much more sense narratively, for this to be a single event here. Having a plethora of dwarves was likely to add nothing but confusion to an already complex tale.
And complexity was a big concern here, enough that I wound up not using Tyr as a point of view character in this book, and saving most of Sigyn’s chapters for the next book. Both were hard choices, especially with Sigyn, who seems to be a fan favorite (and a personal one).
Lastly, most of the Volsung Saga material here was taken from the traditional Norse version; however, I did draw some inspiration from Wagner’s adaptations. After all, he did a masterful job of reconciling some otherwise inconsistent aspects of the stories and character motivations.
So special thanks to my family to all their support. Also to Clark for helping me repeatedly work through these structural issues, and to my cover designer for another awesome one.
Thank you for reading,
Matt