There followed a lengthy silence.
Anger and impatience joined Larson's chosen sentiments. VIDARR!
No emotion accompanied Vidarr's reply. You bellowed for me, Allerum?
I did. Though I can't imagine why it took you so long to respond. I know you were already here.
Perfect confusion radiated from Vidarr. I don't understand.
I don't understand, Larson mimicked, his rage magnified by Vidarr's denial. Vidarr, I'm not stupid. Quit playing dumb or I'll consider your cruelty an intentional attack rather than an ignorant gesture.
Vidarr did not answer; he held his feelings thoroughly masked.
Well? Larson demanded.
Vidarr's voice emerged as a barely perceptible mumble. All right. I did it.
Larson snorted, hoping his thoughts made it obvious he harbored no doubts about Vidarr's guilt. That was never in question. He supposed'the god had searched his thoughts. Otherwise, Larson suspected Vidarr would not have confessed so quickly. Now tell me why. What's the matter? Fenrir hasn't destroyed my sleep to your satisfaction? Did you feel I hadn't suffered enough?
I wasn't trying to hurt you.
Liar! You had to know reviving memories of Bramin would cause pain.
Vidarr persisted. I just wanted to remind you how dangerous Bramin is. Before you plead with Hel to raise Bramin from the dead, I needed you to remember his evil.
Larson stared at his hands in frantic disbelief. Did you think I could forget?
Regardless…
Don't regardless me! Furious, Larson interrupted. I saved your life. I thought we were friends. But in the last few days you've done worse to me than any enemy I ever had. You demand favors. You intrude on my private thoughts. Now, you've attacked me.
Annoyance sifted through Vidarr's defenses. I saved your life, too. I neutralized Loki's magic, turning your conflict into a battle of swords. And, without my assistance with parries and strikes, you would have lost that contest. Vidarr hesitated. Then, apparently afraid Larson would break in, he continued quickly. And I didn't "attack '' you. You just don't understand, do you?
I understand you assaulted my mind with memories which caused me emotional anguish and physical pain.
Baldur is my brother.
Larson remained unmoved. Loki's final words before his death at Hvergelmir's falls returned, unbidden: "If you slay me, no one will contest Odin. The Norse pantheon will endure, supreme through eternity. Christianity can never reign. Al Larson, if you kill me, your world, your family, and the people you loved will never exist!" Larson spat. I had a brother, too, Vidarr. Rescuing you doomed him for eternity.
Vidarr paused. He made no attempt to hide his surprise. Are you still bitter about that?
Did you think I'd just forget I destroyed my world and everyone in it?
No, Vidarr admitted. But I did think you'd realize you had no choice. Loki determined that the day he trapped my soul in the piece of steel the other gods shaped into your sword. Without me, the gods of Chaos would surely have won the final battle, the ' 'Ragnarok.'' Loki would have destroyed all humanity; your world and ours would
no longer have existed. Killing Loki was the only way to free me, and that, as you know, also prevented the arrival of the White Christ and the coming of your people.
Larson pondered Vidarr's words, words that appeased some of the guilt he had felt since the day Bramin, Silme, and Loki had died near the entrance to Hel. But something still seemed amiss… Thereby defying the Fates who determined Ragnarok WOULD occur, the White Christ WOULD come, and my era WOULD exist.
Apparently.
The Fates can be resisted. Destiny can be changed.
Apparently. Vidarr's presence seemed more relaxed as Larson's attention shifted from the assault upon his memory.
Larson licked his lips thoughtfully. Explain something to me, Vidarr. How long ago did Baldur die?
Vidarr became evasive. I don't remember exactly.
Vidarr's caution made Larson suspicious. Approximately.
A century.
Stunned, Larson found it temporarily impossible to form a coherent thought.
Maybe two or three.
Baldur's been dead longer than a hundred years? So why, all of a sudden, has his resurrection become my emergency?
Vidarr's presence squirmed. It was Baldur's destiny to rise from the dead after Ragnarok and to rule the era of peace which would follow our father's reign of war. We could tolerate Baldur's absence knowing he would, one day, live again. By preventing Ragnarok, you banished Baldur to Hel. We want him back, and retrieving Geir-magnus' rod is the only way we know to achieve his return.
Larson's jaw sagged, and all anger drained from him. He recalled the odd feeling of divinity Baldur had radiated. It all came together now, a coincidence too strong to deny. Resurrection. A god of peace who is the son of a god of war. Divinity. His thoughts swirled. Not everything fit, but the parallel was frightening. And if Baldur is, in fact, Jesus, will raising him restore the future?
Larson suppressed the idea, wishing to evaluate the possibilities at a time when Vidarr could not read his thoughts. It would not do to set the entire Norse pantheon against him. Certainly, my meddling will have changed the later ages. Perhaps this altered future won't have a Vietnam War. Already, my presence appears to have changed history. I don't recall sorcerers or elves in any textbook.
Vidarr seemed confused by Larson's jagged leaps of logic. What are you thinking about? he demanded.
Larson kept his reply friendly, hoping to discourage Vidarr from penetrating the deeper portions of his mind for answers. I'm thinking I certainly will retrieve Geir-magnus' rod.
Joy suffused Larson's mind.
Larson added, After I rescue Silme.
Loki's children, Vidarr swore. I thought you were com' ing to your senses.
I am. And, Vidarr, if you keep interrupting my sleep, it'll take twice as long to finish my bargaining with Hel. It'll take twice as long to retrieve the rod, and it'll give Fenrir twice as long to eat me before I free Baldur. This is my last warning. If you penetrate my mind again, other than to talk, I'll shoot first and ask questions later.
Vidarr seemed unsure. Allerum?
Please, Vidarr. We're supposed to be allies. The last thing I need is more enemies.
Vidarr said nothing. Larson could feel the heated stirrings of the god's rising anger.
Good day, Vidarr. Larson finished firmly.
Good day. Vidarr responded curtly. His presence disappeared from Larson's mind.
Yawning, Larson stretched out on the ground. Thoughts of gods and churches filled his last waking moments then seeped softly into dream.
Taziar Medakan straddled a pine seedling at the edge of the clearing outside the northern town of Kiarrmar. A fresh carpet of snow covered the straight stretch of open plain, though no clouds marred the sky. The autumn sun shimmered from the distant arch of the Bifrost Bridge, scattering highlights of red, yellow, and blue across the ice. To the southeast, smoke from the town curled into the heavens. In every other direction Taziar saw nothing but trees.
Now, four days after his last encounter with Fenrir's snapping jaws and howled threats, Taziar's errand seemed madness. It would require him to slip past Heimdallr a second time, a feat he did not relish despite its challenge. He doubted the same ploy would work twice or that Heimdallr would show any mercy if he caught Taziar defying his orders again.
Taziar sidestepped around the seedling and dropped to a crouch. He did have another option, though it seemed equally foolish. He could summon Heimdallr, and, if the god did not kill him on the spot, convince him of the importance of his cause. Either course of action would sabotage the other. Once caught attempting to gain access to the realm of the gods, Taziar doubted Heimdallr would be interested in his reasons. And, if talking to Heimdallr failed, the god would be watching for Taziar to try to climb the Bifrost.
Talking to Heimdallr will waste less time. Having come to a decision, Taziar marched o
penly across the snow. His feet crunched through the frozen crust into a thin layer of powder. His toes felt chilled despite the leather of his boots. A wind gust hurled icy particles against his cheeks, reddening the skin. And this is only autumn. I don't think I want to experience a winter in Norway. He hunched deeper into his cloak.
Suddenly, light exploded before Taziar. Half-blinded, he staggered backward with a startled cry. He blinked through an etched web of shadow and found himself facing another man. The stranger was tall; Taziar's head scarcely reached his waist. A tunic and breeks of the most expensive leather hugged a heavily-muscled frame. Silver thread shimmered through his cloak. His left foot sported a crafted sandal, the right a boot cobbled from mismatched scraps. The entire effect inspired awe. Taziar stared, struck speechless.
The giant glared down at Taziar. Blond braids swung around grimly handsome features. "Come here, Shadow."
Taziar recovered quickly. He inched a half step closer. He knows my name…ormy alias, at least. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage." He added carefully, "Sir."
"That is as it should be." Apparently, the giant misunderstood Taziar's intention, for his next words answered Taziar's question thereby spoiling the effect of his own arrogance. "I am Vidarr. You must perform a task for me."
Vidarr? Allerum's god? Taziar studied Vidarr and found the god's disposition suspiciously easy to read. Anger and confidence seemed to radiate from him. Taziar doubted he could be the cause of Vidarr's rage, though he knew the wrong words might earn him the brunt of it. He considered his reply carefully. "Lord Vidarr. I am honored." He lowered his head and worked humility into his voice, hoping it would not sound feigned. "What service can this humble mortal perform?"
To Taziar's relief, Vidarr's anger faded slightly. "You will return to Allerum."
Taziar played along. Vidarr's request matched his plans. "I shall."
"And you will see to it he never discovers that the recovery of Geirmagnus' rod is impossible."
"What?" Taziar's question was startled from him. For the first time, "impossible" conjured bewilderment rather than interest. "You sent Allerum on an impossible quest? Why?" Fighting to keep accusation from his tone, Taziar dropped his pretense of modesty.
Vidarr's huge brows beetled. "Because, Little One, I have waited centuries to find a capable mortal ignorant enough of the impossible to achieve it."
Taziar regained his composure. "Forgive my questioning, lord. I'm not certain I understand."
Vidarr kneaded his fists with the casual power of a war machine. "Many have tried, men and gods, all with the knowledge their goal was impossible. None even made it past the entrance."
"Because of some guardian?"
"Geirmagnus' estate has no guardian," Vidarr roared. "I believe their own doubts defeated them."
Taziar hesitated, intrigued. "And realizing that, could you retrieve the rod? Apparently, you believe the task possible. Otherwise, you would not have sent Allerum after it."
Sadness entered Vidarr's aura. "I cannot. For all my self-convincing, deep within myself, I do believe the task cannot be done. I harbor enough doubts to prevent success."
Taziar considered. "Lord Vidarr, I will do my best to keep the knowledge from Allerum. By the conversations I have overheard, I believe Gaelinar is already aware of the impossibility of the quest and is protecting Allerum from the information." He tried to hold judgment from his next comment. "I'm afraid, Lord Vidarr, your revelation may have served only to doom me from completing the task if Allerum fails."
Fresh anger flared. "What do you mean?"
Taziar bowed respectfully, wishing he could erase his last statement. "My lord, I am a foreigner. I had no idea the task could not be done. Should Allerum die or surrender midway through it, I might have been able to complete it for him." He glanced up into a face gone pink with annoyance. "I thought, perhaps, that was the reason you told Allerum to bring me along."
The god snapped, "I suggested he take you because he seemed so awed by your sleight of hand, no other reason. Your act pulled him from depression. I had hoped you might keep his spirits up."
Taziar licked his lips several times. "And have I?"
Vidarr shrugged. "Adequately." He waved Taziar off with an exaggerated gesture. "I've become bored by you. Begone." He spun on his booted heel.
"My lord, wait."
Vidarr froze. He turned slowly, regarding Taziar as if he were a bothersome insect. "This had better be important."
Taziar had tired of mincing words and feeding Vidarr's ego. He stood his ground. "It is, sir. I need the magical rope which used to bind Fenrir, and I don't think Heim-dallr would allow me across the Bifrost. Would you be willing to get it for me?''
Vidarr's sharp blue eyes passed over Taziar from head to foot before meeting his gaze directly. The silver threads in his cloak glimmered and sparked as he drew breath. "No. Men serve gods, not the other way. Be glad I didn't kill you for asking."
Taziar bit off an expletive. "Please, lord, I'm not requesting you serve us but rather your own cause. I doubt Allerum could survive another of Fenrir's attacks. The elf is of no use to you dead."
Vidarr's visage turned from red to purple, and Taziar felt certain he had struck the cause of the god's fury. Vidarr's tangible emotion blazed from anger to murderous fury. Abruptly, he lunged. Taziar dodged aside, but the god instantly corrected for the movement. Hands the size of boulders clamped onto Taziar's neck, lifting him effortlessly from the ground.
Taziar caught wrists wider than his fingers could circle. Bracing against them, he struggled to free himself from a grip as unyielding as a vice. Vidarr brought Taziar's face to the level of his own. He continued speaking; Taziar's weight and exertion seemed no more troubling to him than the dying breeze. "Allerum is the chosen of the gods. He's going to die on this quest, but he's going to die for my brother. I don't like his insolence, but I can accept it in exchange for his life and service. You, I can crush like a weed." His fingers twined deeper into Taziar's throat.
Taziar gathered words to bargain. "V-" he sputtered. He could manage nothing further; each labored breath rattled. He turned incredulous eyes toward Vidarr, realizing he was about to die for something Larson had said.
Gradually, Vidarr's anger withered. His grip loosened, and he lowered Taziar to the ground.
The moment his feet met the snow, Taziar scuttled beyond the god's reach. He took great gulps of breath. The cold air stung his lungs but soothed his aching throat.
Vidarr masked his intentions, but his face betrayed remorse. His voice, though soft, commanded obedience.
"Stay here, Shadow. Don't move." With that warning, Vidarr disappeared.
Taziar rubbed at his neck while his vision blurred and spun. He stared at the snow until dizziness passed, then glanced up to the towering arch of the Bifrost Bridge. A distant figure stood on the rainbow strands. Heimdallr, probably. Hope he enjoyed the show. Taziar considered running but thought better of it. Vidarr did seem genuinely sorry, and the last thing I need to do is anger him again.
Taziar's wait did not last long. Within moments, a faint light shimmered before him. He threw up an arm to shield his eyes as the glow shattered and Vidarr returned, clutching the filthy, delicate cord which Taziar had slipped from the leg of the Fenris Wolf.
Taziar said nothing. He met Vidarr's blue stare expectantly.
Vidarr set the rope across his palms. It dangled limply to the ground. "This is Gleipnir, a prize of unequaled value. It was forged by one of the dark elves back in the times when they held all the most powerful magics of the world. Many of the things you and I believe not to exist were simply in the dark elves' keeping, among them Gleipnir's six ingredients: the noise of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the nerves of a bear, a fish's breath, and the spittle of a bird." He tossed the string at Taziar's feet.
Taziar retrieved Gleipnir, rolled it into a ball, and tucked it into his pocket. It felt flimsy and unlike any of its claimed compon
ents. But Taziar had already seen it hold the Fenris Wolf in place.
Vidarr continued. "We had Gleipnir fashioned after Fenrir snapped fetters of iron and adamantine, and a god lost his hand so that we might fasten Gleipnir. Fenrir will not willingly allow himself to be tied again."
Taziar nodded. He did not expect capturing the Fenris Wolf to become an easy task just because he now possessed the rope. But if we can't slay him, at least we might bind him.
"If you lose Gleipnir, we will hunt you down and kill you." Vidarr used a matter-of-fact tone, as if it were the most natural statement in the world.
If I lose Gleipnir, it'll be because Fenrir killed me. You won't need to hunt me down. Taziar kept this thought to himself. He tensed to turn, but concern for Larson gave him the courage to question further. "I mean no disrespect, Lord Vidarr. Please forgive my gall. As one of Allerum's companions, am I not doomed to death as well? If the task is impossible and we're all attempting it together, Gaelinar, Allerum, and I are all going to die for Baldur."
Vidarr's manner softened. "Likely, you'll all die. But even Allerum's fate is uncertain. Although I believe he'll be killed, the outcome is not mine to decide."
Taziar considered, emboldened by Vidarr's cooperation. "I can't let Allerum take this risk without knowing. I have no choice but to tell him." He inched beyond Vidarr's reach.
Vidarr's expression went somber. He made no move toward Taziar. "Telling Allerum can only doom him to failure or convince him not to retrieve Geirmagnus' rod. Refusal to perform the quest would be the only certain death he would face. His fate if he seeks to perform the task is still a question. If he angers Odin, his fate and mine become certain. We'll die at my father's hand. Allerum might be able to thwart the Fates, but even the gods know there's no way to best Odin."
Taziar lowered his head. Without a word, he turned.
A weight dropped to Taziar's shoulder. He whirled back in surprise to face Vidarr again, the god's hand gentle on his arm. This time, the emotion Vidarr shared was comradely, his voice soothing. "Good luck."
Dragonrank master bg-3 Page 19