Through the Never: a Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection

by J. A. Culican

  I traveled deeper within the hall, down and around, until I came to a thick black metal door. The drums beat like they were in my head, rattling me. Nothing made sense, but I knew I had to get through that door to the other side.

  Yanking it with all of my might, I entered into a dark cavern. No light existed, just the senses of touch and hearing. I must be close.

  The ground crunched under my weight, and the cavern took on an eerie green glow.

  It beckoned me deeper, whispering my name in a sing-song manner and in my deceased mother’s voice. I’d never gotten a chance to say goodbye, to wish her well on her journey to the afterlife. I’d never gotten the chance to hold her. Now she called to me.

  My gaze fell on an illuminated chest

  I went ever closer, and stretching out my hand, I touched it. The size of a horse’s wagon, it opened of its own accord. Therein rested a palpitating heart, broken in pieces, but still beating in time.

  Reaching forward, I watched, paralyzed, as gray smoke billowed upwards and towards my fingertips to crawl under my skin. It soaked in deeper until my fingers turned blue, as if I’d been bitten by frost.

  Rising ever higher, it quickly covered my hand, wrist, and arm, and moved towards my heart.

  “Nanna!” Baldr called out, and yanked me backwards out of its reach.

  “That is my mother. I must get to my mother,” I said, and tears raced down my face.

  He hauled me into his grip, turning me away. The smoke began to screech and scream with the voices of what seemed to be a million-plus-one of the tormented.

  Baldr pulled me out of the room and back into the light, and cupped my face in his hands.

  I didn’t understand. I felt like ice melting as sweat formed on my brow and I began to uncontrollably shake. “I am fine. I just need time.”

  “No, my dear, I fear that you now have an awful secret. You’ve been kissed by Ymir.”

  From the scowl on his face, I knew this was no simple embrace. It meant so much more, but what?

  Baldr, Asgard Tavern

  Baldr sat and drank his mead in the tavern.

  A hand slapped down on his shoulder. Thor. “It’s not like you to drink alone.”

  “Well, I don’t seem to know what I am doing on the best of days, and now, I don’t understand,” Baldr replied.

  He looked up to Thor, his brother, who seemed to right almost any wrong with a hammer and magical gloves. Their father respected Thor above all.

  “I told you it wouldn’t be easy, but you didn’t want to listen.”

  “You might have predicted this, but I thought once she was here things would be fine. She’d be safe and all would be right. I could begin to court her and make her mine.”

  “Women don’t like to be told what they are to do,” Thor said. “Take it from me, the women of Midgard are interesting creatures. They love strongly, but first you have to get them to that place.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “What did you do in your dreams together?”

  “I wooed her,” Baldr said.

  “And have you done that since she’s been here, or have you locked her away in your golden palace? She has the worries of her people on her shoulders. Your taking her away from that will create resentment unless you can find a way to fix it.”

  “I don’t have a hammer to kill an entire army in one fell swoop.”

  “You are a god, the son of Odin. Are you afraid of a mere mortal army?” Thor asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then show her that. Women love it when a man stands alone, armed with a single weapon, and it feels like they can take down more than a garrison, the whole damned army in fact. That is why she will always idolize her father and grandfather, and I have watched those two in battle. You should visit her grandfather. He is in Valhalla. He will surely give you some insight into how you can impress her.”

  “Can’t I just love her? Can’t that be enough?”

  Thor picked up his large horn of mead and drained it. “Love is a verb which requires action.”

  Baldr recalled watching emotions play across Nanna’s face. She appeared no older than eighteen, and although experienced in the ways of war, other things seemed to be missing. Delight had faded away to pure scrutiny, to shock, and then finally to shame. Her shoulders once squared, had sunk, and she’d crossed her arms.

  “Come with us, dear brother, and we shall show you how to gain the heart of a woman,” Thor said, as Loki pulled up a chair and joined the conversation.

  “The only thing you two know about are deadly adventures involving bloodshed,” Baldr said.

  “That is quite true, beloved Baldr, but you will never understand a warrior woman if you don’t know how to fight for her,” Loki countered.

  Baldr drained his own horn of drink. “If that is what it takes, then we must go.”

  Thor chuckled and twiddled his red beard in his fingers. “There is nothing like a just war, and I know right where to start.”

  “You don’t mean that skirmish over in Midgard,” Loki said.

  “There is always someone fighting in Midgard. That’s part of the fun of it,” Thor replied.

  “You know, that is your problem,” Loki said, “You’re too likable. She probably thinks you’re a weakling, maybe even one who can’t care for her. Women like strong men, and that boyish smile you continue to give me doesn’t say ruthless deity.”

  “Don’t you remember what it was like to be on the battlefield and smash things up?” Thor asked. “I don’t know how much stuff I’ve destroyed over the years. War is my mistress.”

  “The way you fight, she’s not a good one who will keep you satisfied,” Loki said.

  “She leaves me begging for more,” Thor defended.

  “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”

  Thor gripped Mjolnir’s handle. “I’ve had enough, Loki.”

  “But I’m just getting started. Come on, you’re referring to war as if it were a woman who is there is to serve you. Do you see the misplaced logic? War cannot serve, and it surely cannot provide pure satisfaction as a woman can.”

  Getting involved in conversation between Loki and Thor was like being in an argument between different colored flames.

  Instead, Baldr’s thoughts moved away from their verbal tussle to the woman who needed to know him as more than just a handsome face. He could feel the smallest tinge of attraction in her, but there must be more to cultivate love.

  If he did what gods do, would she forgive him or consider him a traitor, fickle even?

  Only another trip to Midgard would prove it, yes or no.

  “Okay, let’s get this warring party on the road,” Baldr said.

  The word war got the other two gods to quieten. Thor hopped up. “Come. I know exactly where we need to go.”

  The battle raged on between the two parties; one true to the Norse gods, the other aligned with foreign gods. Loki, Thor and Baldr stood on the hillside and watched the battle below. Men rushed forward and their swords hacked and stabbed. Some sliced the air and happened to fell a man, while others cowered and sought to run away.

  A Valkyrie came and stood beside the gods.

  “What are you all doing here today?” Kara asked. “I didn’t think that this was a battle that would draw your attention, Thor.”

  “Ha, ha,” Thor said. “You’re too sick to play and should be attending to your own malaise in Valhalla, or has the All-Father decided to retire you?”

  Baldr listened to the banter between the two. Kara was the fittest fighter he’d ever seen, and she could probably take Thor out if he didn’t have his hammer.

  “When brave men die fighting for justice, I must honor them and fight as well,” she cooed.

  “Surely, Thor, you just want to get your hammer wet,” Loki said.

  “That’s why I bring you along, Loki, to rile me up so I have enough rage to hit something else instead of you.”

  Baldr chuckled
. His laughter seemed misplaced as the Valkyrie took flight, traveling over the field and choosing who would die and who would live. Then Loki and Thor jumped into the fray. Mjolnir thundered, cracking the ground, and lightning sizzled across the sky. Excitement danced in the air. The passing from one moment to the next moved in slow motion. The three accepted the sacrifices of their followers, fighting with them.

  “Dear brother, come,” Thor said. “Those who are not of us are on the picking field. Assist our true believers in their battle. Where they win, we win!”

  A broad smile crossed Thor’s face and white light glowed from his skin.

  With daggers in his hands, Baldr moved through the crowd, extinguishing the enemy with deathly precision.

  Today, they’d fill the halls of the realms—the halls of Odin, Thor and Lady Hel. Passivity drifted away as he went across the killing field.

  “Time to show how the gods kill, gentlemen,” he said, and a scream that caused even the Midgard Serpent to pause as it swam through the earth, causing the very ground to quake and the trees to bend and careen.

  “Lest dear Father thinks we forgot about him, let’s get the general. He seems worthy enough,” Baldr declared. Fresh blood dripped off his face, sprayed upon him by one he had just slayed.

  “You’re just trying to make it so that the All-Father allows you to keep your human bride,” Thor opined.

  “Do you think it might work?” Baldr asked.

  “Worth a shot. I’ve found his fear is worth using for my benefit.”

  “I think you’ve been around me too long if you are using my own words,” Loki said. “What’s always appeased your father is metalwork from the dwarves.”

  “I am just releasing my inner warlord.” Baldr beckoned a priestess from the sidelines. He fashioned ropes out of reeds, hung his sacrifices to Odin up and then crafted magical spears with which he ran them through.

  “That’s one way to get Father’s attention,” Thor said.

  “Aggressively? He will appreciate my hanging tree.”

  Baldr stepped back and stared at his handiwork. His jurisdiction, his justice; his way for reconciliation. He was the God of Light, and mankind would remember him for his ability to inspire love and for his use of a sword.

  Nanna, Breidablik—Baldr’s Hall

  It felt like days had passed between my fainting and today. Yet, Baldr remained away, leaving me to my own devices, and I couldn’t blame him. I awoke to memories of smoke and fire, but couldn’t recall any of the details.

  After Ymir’s kiss, as Baldr called it, I could feel something different happening within. Staring in the looking glass, I noticed my once natural dark brown eye color had been replaced by blue with amber rings. It reminded me of fire and ice. I blinked, but it all remained the same. My black hair had begun to turn white; a streak that had not been there before grew ever wider.

  But those things were strange minutiae in comparison to the scaly rash that worked its way from my fingertips up my arm, from where I’d touched the cloud of smoke.

  It didn’t itch, and the burning had long ago ceased.

  A lulling voice began to speak—but not from outside, from within.

  “Now is the time to feel the strength you’ve always possessed but never known,” it said.

  Unbidden, my body began to shift. The rash grew to cover not just one arm but two. Scales like that of a lizard’s covered me from head to toe. My back arched and extended, my neck elongated and my face morphed. Dark wings spouted from my shoulder blades and a long tail took shape.

  In the looking glass, I saw my reflection. I’d changed into the monster I’d once read about in the Epic of Gilgamesh, Humbaba. Instead of hands, I had strong talons; my legs were like lions’, and sharp horns jutted out of my head. Once walking on two legs, I now stood on four.

  A guttural snarl ripped through me, and racing towards a window, I crashed through it and took flight.

  Nanna, Breidablik—the Hall of Baldr

  I don’t know how long I’d been away or what had happened during my absence. Once again in my human form, sequestered in my quarters, I continued to read everything that I could find about Asgard.

  Then one day two strangers burst into my rooms.

  Their faces didn’t seem familiar, but their auras did, though I couldn’t quite place them.

  I felt their malevolence, bitterness, anger—and their intention: pain.

  I gripped my dagger between the folds of my dress, and moved away from my resting spot.

  One of them sent an electric shock towards me, and I crumpled to the floor. Temporarily paralyzed, I stared up at him and his companion. Dirt soiled their clothes and hands, but it must have been a ruse, for they did not have the stench associated with those who could not bathe.

  “She used to be a warrior, a shield maiden in her own right. Surely, she can take a punch better than the average man from Midgard. She’ll have you begging for mercy if you get too close.”

  “She’ll have me begging for something,” the unnamed minion replied.

  I didn’t like the way his eyes grazed over my figure.

  “If you hurt me, the gods will avenge me,” I croaked.

  He laughed, raised his sword and beat me on the head with its pommel until I saw stars and darkness began to pull upon me.

  “Finish her!” His voice cut through the silence of the night like razor blades across soft delicate skin. My swollen eyes barely let any light in, the constellations above giving little illumination. Pain radiated through my assaulted, half-dead body.

  A groan escaped my bruised lips and I felt for my dagger. When he came forwards to finish me off, I used the last bit of my energy and dragged my sharp blade across his Achilles tendon. It cut better than butter, separating muscle from bone. He screamed in agonizing pain. The more he screamed, the louder my heartbeat pumped in my ears, pushing away the darkness of death.

  I laid there in a heap, but it was as if I was stepping out of myself and watching. The man raised a war-hammer and struck me on the back of my head. I couldn’t move, cry out or even transform. Instead, I stood there, out of my body, in the form of an apparition, and watched them brutalize me.

  “The threat is over. You can stop now,” one said to the other. “She shall breathe no more fire on us.”

  “Yes, it is a shame that she had to meet such an end.”

  “The only way for Asgard to be safe from Ymir’s rising, is to be rid of the only one who could fulfill the prophecy, and since Baldr wouldn’t send her back, maybe this will be his lesson that Midgardians don’t belong here.”

  “You were ever the bigot.”

  “Aren’t we supposed to want Ymir to come back? He is our forefather.”

  “He had the power to destroy the entire world, and all of the pantheons, not just the Norse ones. “

  “Come, our duty here is done.”

  I watched them scurry away but the strong scent of incense remained behind. Incense like I used to light, what felt like eons ago, in the Temple of Melqart and Baal.

  As blood began to pool around me, an ancient voice rang out in my head and words I did not know came forth.

  Baldr raced into the room. The building shook as white rage caused every pore of his skin to illuminate with a light too bright to stare upon.

  He cradled me in his arms. I couldn’t feel my legs, and a heat filled me—a heat that came from him.

  “Oh, my love, I never should have left you to your own devices.”

  He stared at me, and in that moment, I knew the truth—I saw the picture he’d seen before. Like a seed planted in fertile soil, I realized the truth: love. It should never be a burden. It protected. It upheld. It treasured.

  It avenged.

  Resurrected by his love, I thirsted for blood.

  I could hear the world calling me, luring me away, but Baldr’s presence pulled me back.

  Nothing else mattered but satisfaction.

  I withdrew to where the voice took me, wher
e the world was dark and barren, and only red lava flowed.

  “Dive, dive,” it commanded, and I did.

  I felt the heat on my scales and allowed the hot lava to pour over me. Sinking ever deeper down, ecstasy filled my senses, and the rich taste of sunlight in my mouth.

  My body began to slowly heal.

  Baldr—Breidablik—the Hall of Baldr

  “Who did this to you?” Baldr asked Nanna, but she could not answer. Her muttered words made no sense.

  He carefully lifted her and carried her to her chambers. It was too late to call someone to assist him. He removed her blood-soaked gown and her undergarments, and placed them on a heap to the side. Where her wounds should have been, there was only silky skin.

  The prophecy foretold of the rising of Ymir, but this was not it. She was a mixture of fire and ice, earth and water, created out of the ash trees of old.

  And those trees were to be watched over, protected by those of Asgard.

  “She could be the key to releasing chaos between the realms,” his father had said as if that would be the solution to his dilemma, but Baldr’s heart told him a different truth.

  He shook his head. She was not darkness, but light. After tucking her into her cot, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and left her.

  He meandered through the city, until he landed at the Bifrost Bridge, overlooking the galaxy, where Heimdall waited.

  “Heimdall, a great violation has occurred tonight. Our security has been breached,” Baldr said. “Has anyone passed through the gate?”

  “No, Baldr, I’m afraid that if someone has entered into Asgard, then they snuck in like thieves.”

  “And did you not see them with your watchful eyes?”

  “I see many things,” Heimdall paused. “And the men you seek have not yet left the city.”

  Baldr nodded his head. “Madness beats at a man’s heart when his love is hurt.”

  “Our way requires a transgression be repaid,” Heimdall responded.