“What of Master Jakobus? Should we wake him and bring him to Freya?”
“We had better. He was the one who was most helpful and instrumental in finding Yggdrasil. Without his assistance, I would never have started looking in the basement of the Paupers Temple. And not just that: he is the king of dwarves and so deserves our respect and honor. If the elves gain access to this land, then the dwarves had best be with us in the battle.”
“Let me break my fast first, then we will wake Jakobus.”
***
After a few minutes, Sihr and Rickters made their way up the road to the house where Jakobus lived. Knocking on the door, one of his servants opened the door. Sihr explained what had happened and the reason for the early and unexpected visit. Soon, a sleepy Jakobus greeted them.
After Jakobus broke his fast and got dressed, the three left for Freya’s temple.
The sun had now risen above the horizon and though the air was cool and crisp, they could feel the sun’s warmth on their skin.
Jakobus was most intrigued by Yggdrasil and the Norns. He kept up a rapid-fire of questions about Sihr’s adventure. Sihr tried his best to explain, but when Jakobus asked if Sihr thought it possible that Jakobus could visit the Norns, Sihr shook his head.
“It appears they thought it was Freya who was visiting as I carry her staff,” said Sihr. “But, I do see a small hole in their story as they weave the Tapestry: they must have known it was me coming through the portal, not Freya. Unfortunately, I do not think they will ever allow me to visit again, nor anyone else. Perhaps the only one who can now visit is Freya as I think she will now need to eat a golden apple often, if not every day.”
Jakobus looked disappointed. “I was hoping for their advice,” he said.
“I think if we save Freya, she will be the one who will provide advice,” said Sihr.
Jakobus did not look pleased with that response. Sihr understood that the relationship between dwarves and the old gods, especially Odin, was often frayed and contentious. The old gods had at times not been kind to the dwarves, and it had been the gods who had banished the dwarves to Nidavellir. And now the dwarves slept the sleep of dreams and could only be woken if the gods allowed.
“I am sure Freya will do whatever she can to wake the dwarves,” said Sihr.
Jakobus grunted. “It is not easy to wake the dwarves,” he said. “It may take more than just Freya to bring my people from their slumber.”
“I am sure she will do what she can.”
“You would be surprised, young priest, at the fickleness of the old gods.”
Sihr kept silent for the rest of the walk out to Freya’s temple ruins as he had heard of Odin’s bad temper and unpredictability. Often, it was better not to ask for a god’s help as often they would have made things worse just out of pure boredom and selfishness. The old gods were like any large family: bickering and always trying to win Odin’s favor.
They walked through the Paupers Cemetery where months ago, they had met the Master of the Hunt. It seemed so long ago. And now, only the golden apple Sihr held in his hand would stop the poison and heal Freya back to health. She would then of course need a golden apple near every day, but Sihr now knew where she could find one.
The forest was lively with the sound of birds and small animals. The statue of Freya used to be covered in vines and other growth but the Master of the Hunt had kept her statue clean. It had been awhile since he had left and Sihr could see that the vines had begun to creep back.
Jakobus, Sihr, and Rickters stood in front of the statue of Freya. Sunlight filtered through the leaves and dappled the statue with light and shadows.
Rickters asked first: “So, how do we get a statue to eat an apple? I figured I would ask as I knew you were both thinking the same thing.”
“I am afraid I just realized the error of our ways,” admitted Sihr. “I suppose we must wait until the full moon when she awakes.”
Jakobus peered closely at the statue of Freya. “I do not think we can wait,” he said. “The poison from the blade even appears to be destroying her statue. See there, the color of her skin has darkened as if by poison near where she was cut. The poison spreads and we are running out of time if we wish to save her. We need as many of the old Norse gods to return. And I do not want to look for Loki.”
Sihr smiled slightly as he knew there was no love lost between Jakobus and Loki, god of mischief. Even though it had been ages ago, the memory of a dwarf was like a stone that never wore down. Even though Jakobus had not been king when it had happened, he still had not forgiven Loki for stealing the dwarf king’s crown and for stealing a kiss from the dwarf princess. Then his smile disappeared as the realized the futility of the situation.
“Yes, how do we get a statue to eat?” asked Sihr.
“We do have one advantage as this is no ordinary statue,” said Jakobus. “I believe you have Freya’s staff?”
“You believe her staff may wake her from the curse?” asked Sihr. “She held her staff all the time while she waited as a statue here in her temple’s old ruins.”
“Yes, but she did not wear her necklace, that which had to be returned to wake her.”
“Ah, a good point, Master Jakobus. Well, here goes nothing.”
Sihr noticed one of Freya’s hands looked open enough and that it could appear to almost hold her old staff. He placed her staff in her hand.
Sihr, Jakobus, and Rickters all collectively held their breaths watching the statue closely. But nothing happened.
“Perhaps,” began Rickters, “Master Sihr, if you held the golden apple under her nose, she may wake more quickly. I know for me the smell of food can be a powerful motivator when I need to wake in the morning.”
Sihr chuckled. “I see no harm in trying.” He rolled a rock over near to her throne and stood on the rock. He was then high enough to hold the golden apple under her nose.
“If the gods truly did eat these golden apples every day,” said Rickters, “then I am most assured she will recognize the smell and will hunger for it.”
Sihr held the apple as long as he could as it was a difficult position to hold for very long. “My arm feels as if it will fall off,” he mumbled.
Then Sihr felt the warmth of breath on his hand.
“She wakes!” he cried.
And in a few short moments, with her free hand, she plucked the golden apple from Sihr’s hand and took a delicate bite.
Sihr stood back and he, Jakobus, and Rickters all bent one knee.
Freya took a few more bites before speaking. “That may be the most delicious apple I have ever eaten,” she said. “I find myself indebted again to the kindness of heroes.”
She stood and walked a few steps, moving her shoulders and neck as if to ease some pains. And as before, while she was a statue, she appeared larger than anyone, but now she seemed only as tall as a regular woman.
“Rise, heroes, rise as today is a glorious day. A golden apple has returned and with it, the full extent of my curse has been lifted and my poison removed. I may now return to Asgard, though I fear I may not enjoy what I see when I return. So, Yggdrasil has been discovered once again. How was it you three found it?”
And Sihr explained how he had found Yggdrasil, then added: “Well, that, and also your gift to me, your staff.”
Freya smiled and said: “I see it was with great foresight that I did indeed give you my staff. And here it is again.”
Sihr gripped Freya’s staff in his hand, letting one end rest on the ground.
“My many thanks, Freya. Your staff strengthens my healing powers. It was because of your gift I was able to help cleanse Queen Astrid of that demon’s dark poison. Well, that and Princess Margret too of course as she used your circlet to help channel the healing light into the queen.”
Freya turned her attention to Jakobus. “And you, Jakobus, king of the dwarves: I owe you a great debt as well. How may I help you?”
Jakobus grumbled: “You know my request.”
<
br /> Freya nodded as she sat her throne once again. “I am still weak.” She took a few more small bites of the golden apple. “There, that is better. Yes, Yggdrasil is under the Paupers Temple. I know the hidden tunnel that leads from here to it. Magnus helped build it, he has ever been so kind to me. I will need to make that trip often.”
Her eyes met Jakobus’s who held her gaze for a moment, then lowered his.
She said: “Nidavellir was a great and wondrous realm. And will be again.”
Despite himself, Jakobus exhaled loudly, relived. “You are too kind, My Lady,” he said.
“Yes, you will need a request from an old Norse god for you to fire up your forges, I remember now.” She lightly tapped her nose. “There is a crown I need the dwarves to make. It must be the finest crown, even finer than the crown of the king of dwarves.”
Jakobus looked uncomfortable at the request.
She continued: “Only the best jewels and the purest gold, silver, and platinum can be used.”
“Of course, Freya, only the best the dwarves have to offer in jewels and metal will be used to fashion this crown. May I ask: is this for a man or woman?”
“For a man, so it will be fashionable for him to wear.”
“As per whenever Odin made a request of the dwarves’ forges, we will require payment.”
“Payment is the opening of Nidavellir, the restarting of your great forges. When the forges fire up, your people will awake.”
Jakobus bristled. Said: “Odin, All Father, was not one who made requests lightly. He knew dwarves did not make items of greatness without payment. Need I remind you it was I who helped save you by bringing you a golden apple?”
Freya’s voice went cold. “It was Sihr who brought me the golden apple,” she said. “It was he who traveled to Yggdrasil, spoke with the Norns. I can even still smell the squirrels on Sihr’s clothing that live in Yggdrasil and help harvest the golden apples. It was not you.”
Jakobus’s face turned a deep shade of red. “The dwarves, my people, are not slaves to do the beckon call of just one Norse god,” he said.
Freya waggled a finger at Jakobus and said: “Only a Norse god may open the realm of Nidavellir. Not even the Norns may help you there.”
Jakobus slumped his shoulders in an admission of defeat. “I will make your crown, Freya,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Excellent choice, dwarf, and it will need to fit Loki, my brother’s, head.”
Jakobus’s face now took on a shade of purple as he bellowed in his voice usually reserved for the Knights Stable: “I will not be part of Loki’s rescue!”
Freya’s face remained calm but the timbre in her voice could not be mistaken as she said: “You will not use that tone of voice before me, dwarf. Need I remind you that it was in your forges that Aesirslayer was born, the blade that nearly ended me. You aided the frost giants, the enemies of Odin since the creation of the Norse realms, when you made that weapon. You will not disobey me, and you will not ask for payment. Your payment is that I do not raze your great forges in Nidavellir to the ground.”
Jakobus ground his teeth till his gums bled. “Your brother Loki wronged us and humiliated us,” he said through gritted teeth. “Aesirslayer was to be just a warning the frost giants could use against you. They promised the dwarves they would never use it.”
Freya sighed loudly. “O foolish dwarves, and you believed the frost giants? Truly your hatred of Loki blinded you and continues to blind you. Make a crown worthy of Loki, one that will remove the curse. For Odin, All Father, had a twisted sense of humor. That the only way Loki’s curse would be removed is if he was forgiven by the dwarves.”
“He is not forgiven.”
“Yes, but the crown made by the dwarves will not know the difference.” She took another bite from the golden apple. “I feel the poison still coursing through my veins, but it is dissipating. My thanks, Sihr, for the golden apple.”
Sihr had held his peace during the argument between Jakobus and Freya. “My pleasure, My Lady,” he said then added: “Please remember that Jakobus did help.”
Freya did not look mollified as she returned her gaze to Jakobus. “Fire up your forges, dwarf. Dig for the finest minerals and jewels. Make a crown that will end my brother’s curse.”
Jakobus proudly stood taller. “I will make your brother his crown,” he said. “I will wake my people from their slumber. Our forges will belch such smoke as never has been seen in Nidavellir in ages.”
And Jakobus stormed off, not waiting for Sihr or Rickters.
Freya watched Jakobus walk away, then said: “There is a long history of disagreements between the race of dwarves and the old Norse gods.”
Sihr nodded and said: “I now realize that, My Lady. What of Loki, your brother? We were able to find you, but of your brother, there are no clues. You know where he is, cursed.”
Freya nodded and said: “His statue stands in the middle of the hottest desert in a certain realm. Our father thought at one point to put him in Musspelheim, ruled by Surtur, king of the fire giants. But even our father thought that would be cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Why may I ask in the middle of a hot desert? One that adds to his punishment?”
Freya looked at Sihr with a mildly surprised look. “I suppose over time, some stories have been forgotten. Loki, my brother, kidnapped Yorli, princess of the frost giants, daughter of Thrymr. My brother was caught and instead of a long and prolonged war between the gods and the frost giants, my father punished his son.”
Sihr shrugged and said: “But why in the middle of a hot desert.”
Freya arched an eyebrow. Said: “Perhaps, young priest, you need to learn more about the affairs of the heart. Yorli is a frost giant. Frost giants may not enter a hot desert.”
Sihr looked confused. “You mean Yorli loved your brother?” he asked.
Freya allowed herself a small smile. “Over time, she realized she did love him as well.”
“I wonder though if they love each other still?”
“That, I do not know.”
“Speaking of love, what of Magnus, the Master of the Hunt?”
And Freya’s small smile grew. “I call the Master of the Hunt,” she said.
In her hand appeared the Master of the Hunt’s horn. Soon the Master of the Hunt appeared, with his dogs by his side.
He removed his helmet and fell to one knee. Said: “Lady Freya, it is done, the Alfheim Gateway has been sealed. The Heart Tree is destroyed, the Unbreakable Barrier is once again made strong.”
“Well done, Magnus. The battle may be won, but the war rages on.”
“Is your curse over? You appear when there is no full moon.”
“Yes, my love, my curse is now fully lifted. With the help of the Paupers Temple priest, I have now eaten of the golden apple, that which ends the curse.”
“Yet another curse begins. You must eat a golden apple often.”
“Yes, and that is why you built the tunnel for me, so I may easily enter the basement of the Paupers Temple where there is a gateway to Yggdrasil, which grows the golden apples.”
“By Odin, I have waited for this day. Is my curse lifted as well? Am I doomed to forever be at the beck and call of any god who sounds the horn?”
Freya easily crushed the horn in one hand.
“I think that answers my question,” he replied.
“You too will need to eat of the golden apples, my love,” said Freya. “I will not be as easily parted from you again.”
And Sihr said: “And I will make sure that the basement of the Paupers Temple remains sealed. You will not have to worry about being discovered.”
“Our thanks, priest,” said Magnus. “Now, what are we to do?”
Freya said: “My brother, Loki, still lives under his curse. Jakobus, king of the dwarves, has been commanded to make a crown that is wondrous to behold. Once the crown is placed on Loki’s head, his curse will be lifted. There is much danger afoot in the realms. O
ur old enemies, the frost giants, are restless and gaining strength. And the elves are not to be underestimated.”
Sihr asked: “Once Jakobus makes the crown, will you be placing it on your brother’s head?”
Freya shook her head and said: “The Norse gods may meddle in the affairs of Midgard, but there are limits to our interference. No, as per Loki’s curse, it must be a dwarf king that places the crown on Loki’s head. Then my brother’s curse will be lifted entirely.”
Sihr bowed and said before departing: “Then I had best see how Jakobus fairs.”
CHAPTER 23
Welcome to Alfheim
Ogre Mage sat in his room, drinking hot coffee, reading a book, when a flash of images splashed into his mind. He dropped his coffee mug, grabbed a piece of charcoal, and swiftly drew a portal rune on the ground.
He finished drawing the portal rune, then hastily said a magic spell. And when four young people appeared in the middle of his freshly drawn portal rune, Ogre Mage breathed a sigh of relief. He locked the door to his room, then stared at the four people. Well, four people and one cat.
One boy had a shield strapped to his arm. Ogre Mage recognized the rune of protection engraved on it. In the boy’s hand he held a sword: Flamebringer, Ogre Mage knew. There was no mistaking the runes carved into the sword’s blade: bane of the frost giants.
The next boy wore the Gloves and Belt of Strength, like those worn by one of the sons of Odin. And he even had a war hammer, one designed by the dwarves for the battles against the frost giants. Only dwarves could have designed those runes and imbued the war hammer with magic.
The last boy still held his quarterstaff in one hand. A cat lay on his chest protectively. Ogre Mage could smell magic wafting off both the boy and cat. By the blood, Ogre Mage realized, there was a bond between those two! Ogre Mage realized the near impossibility of this. He tried to remember the last wizard to have a familiar but could not. Even when the land was lousy with wizards, few to none had familiars. It was rare, as the familiar strengthened the wizard’s ability to perform magic, but also weakened the wizard. For if the familiar was hurt, so was the wizard. And if the cat died, then so would the boy.
The Prophecy of Asgard Page 14