We gasped. Such an answer was heartless. Each person was a part of some community, some family, some unit. And he didn’t seem to care.
“I thought there was no honor in dying of sickness or calamity, according to the myths,” I argued. “What good is having you here if you can’t help save these people, or worse yet, if you won’t? You might say you need a hammer, for it makes you strong and courageous, but I say that honor requires more than a simple tool.”
“You don’t understand,” Thor said. I could feel his anger bubbling.
Above the sound of the locusts, I heard the distinct rumble of thunder.
I watched him, noticing nuances that made little sense to me, but despite his missing hammer, I knew there was more to this story. Thor was supposed to be super-brave, strong and able to defeat any foe, but to me he appeared damaged, a little broken even.
I must have not been the only one to watch this transformation. “We don’t need someone who isn’t going to take the bull by the horns. If you can’t be the god we need, then what are you doing here?” I argued.
“Whoa, Sif, don’t attack him like this! We don’t know everything,” Ola responded.
“What I know is that we are watching a plague, a biblically sized plague of grasshoppers eating everything. They’re eating and growing heavy enough to squash buildings.”
“He knows something. He just doesn’t want to get his godly hands dirty,” Chi said.
Like always, Chi said exactly what I was feeling. After all of this time praying to him, I felt more than a little disappointed to find him powerless and used.
Men had been talking about their hammers for decades, and how they could only perform if it was ready to go. But women always performed, regardless. Maybe instead of praying to Thor, I should have chosen Freyja. In this situation, she would have known what to do. In all honesty, if women ruled, we wouldn’t be facing half of this mess, I surmised.
Glancing over at my friends, I saw it written on their faces—this sadness. Not only for themselves but also for everyone out there. Our families, friends, heck even the weird pizza delivery guy who never accepted tips because he didn’t want to share them with his coworkers, were more than likely out there braving a living storm.
What I desired more than anything was divine help and seeing that it wasn’t coming, I pushed past Thor.
“Are you going to tell us?” Chi demanded.
“There is a rift between the gods, and I expect that this plague is only the beginning. I cannot ask for help because I have been exiled.”
“What do you mean by a rift? Gods getting their panties in a bunch?” Chi asked.
Thor sighed. It was heartbreaking to see him weakened. This was a god who slew giants with his hammer, but here he was hurting and unmoving. But that wasn’t an excuse. We proved our strength even more when our burdens felt too heavy to carry.
“Like I said before, I don’t need your help.” I stalked back toward the windows and looked at the overwhelming swarm.
What I wouldn’t give to save my city, and all of these people from this.
Thor turned to me. “We need to leave here. Those men who you killed at the convention were sent, and whoever sent them will come back looking for you.”
“In this mess?” I shrugged.
A part of me wanted to go out there and fight shadows. He must have felt that for he reached out and took hold of my hand. His touch burned like the hot sands of the beach and an electric charge moved from him to me and up my arm.
Thunder rolled again.
“Do you want to wait to find out?”
Chapter 19
Lady Hel, Richmond, VA
Lady Hel sat in her comfortable office chair and watched the cloud of locusts move past her abode and in the direction of the city.
Harley waited in the wings, standing behind her chair, his hand firmly planted on its soft leather back.
Martin, her help, spread his legs wide and slumped in the expensive chair across from her. Such an ergonomic chair was supposed to assist with proper posture, but Martin didn’t care about that any more than he cared about the person who looked like a fifteen-year-old girl attempting to cower in the corner.
“Attempting” being the key word.
She’d never been a good actress.
“Martin, leave us,” Lady Hel said and stood up.
He quickly rose, bowed, and exited the room.
“Come here, Verdandi. You attempt to fool me with your youthful appearance and cowering, but I can recognize you by your magic.”
Verdandi stopped pretending and moved forward. With each step, her appearance changed until her black and purple hair was white, and her gothic clothes were stripped away, replaced by an ethereal illuminance so bright that it was no color and all colors at once.
“No one can fool the magnificent Lady Hel,” Verdandi said.
“Yet, there is a game you are playing which I don’t quite understand. Why did you and the girl enter my safe?”
Verdandi smiled. “It is her destiny.”
“Nonsense. You carve upon a stick and can tell us many things—but destiny does not equate to thievery.”
Verdandi nodded. “Is that what you said when Odin appointed you as the ruler of the dead?”
Hel shrugged. She’d never understood her relationship with the All-Father. On one hand, she was indebted to him because of his appointment, but on the other hand, he’d abused their relationship and used the fear of the afterlife to increase his lot—honor required war; war meant death and Valhalla.
She could still remember when he’d first flanked her and his dislike. He’d not been able to hide it very well. Even a child could tell when it was not wanted, but what she felt coming from him wasn’t just dislike but revulsion, compounded by a seed of fear.
That seed had taken root.
Verdandi spoke again. “You will never get her back, unless you can convince them otherwise.”
“And how shall I do that?”
Verdandi smiled. It reflected mischief. She was one of the three Norns—Urd, Verdandi and Skuld—sisters who carved out the destinies of the men and gods.
Hel did not wait for an answer. “You always were the one who liked to stir things up.”
“I thought you might say that, but I come bearing gifts,” Verdandi said.
Hel frowned. “Your gifts always come with huge price tags.”
“No, not this time. You see, I think you might need a backup plan for your current position.”
“You know something I don’t?” Hel didn’t have the gift of prophecy. Instead her powers dealt with death, and since in every living being the inevitableness of death existed, she had an innate upper hand for most situations.
“I know many things that you don’t, but I shall not speak of it.”
“Shan’t or can’t?” Hel asked.
Verdandi smiled and bowed her head. She then removed a meteorite blade; it glowed red.
“What is this?” Hel asked. She surveyed the blade but didn’t touch it.
“It is something I acquired during my visits with Surt,” Verdandi announced. “To battle your enemies you need to know their weaknesses. He assures me that fire is a great tool against the Aesir.”
The mention of the fire giant’s name gave Hel pause. He despised the gods with more than a passion, and as far back as she could remember he’d been preparing for battle against them.
“Thor does not have any weaknesses, but to secure your prize you don’t have to kill him. So, please, allow me to provide you with some assistance to return to Asgard.” Verdandi raised a flask. “But you know it will come at a price.”
“And what will this cost me?”
“You must promise that you will not back down but pursue this relentlessly. Happiness is often fleeting and, despite it all, you are closer to happiness than you’ve ever been, in human centuries at least. Are you willing to risk it all for your family? A family that shuns you?”
La
dy Hel paused. Over the years, everyone had wanted to change her so they could be happy and accept her. They’d asked her to change her appearance. They’d asked her to Anglicize her name. They asked her to turn down and relinquish her power. Even a minute change was a change. Yet, she had to carry it all on her shoulders, be fearless, be other.
Only one saw her heart, and her, for who she was. She instinctively placed her hand on Harley’s.
“And what do you win from this?”
“I tire of these games. Drink up, for your trip awaits. May grace accompany you, my lady.”
Lady Hel took the flask and drank the cherry-tasting brew. She blinked and found herself standing in Asgard—no bridge needed.
Chapter 20
Lady Hel, Asgard
“That which was mine was taken from me, and is now under your protection.” Lady Hel stood across from Odin and glared at him. Today she was not downcast, and power and rage wafted upward from her body like blue smoke. The air tasted bitter and felt heavy.
But it was the smell of a fresh pyre that gave her pause. It was the scent that some new arrivals to Helheim had on them—the pyre disintegrated their mortal bodies but their spirits remained and that aroma came with them.
Today she did not admire the golden columns or how her cape dragged behind her. She didn’t care about how ornate the room’s carvings were, as runes glistened in the Norse knotwork. She didn’t really even consider what any of it meant, only casting a glance at the pictographs that were behind Odin’s throne. As in a cathedral, this art had a message but she refused to see it.
This visit was not about serving as an emissary between her world and Asgard to make a plea for them to do what was right. It was a last-chance peace offering before she struck.
Odin’s greasy, contemptuous smile filled the uncomfortable silence. “Have you forgotten to whom you speak?” he asked at last.
“The question isn’t if I’ve forgotten, but whether or not you are given due deference. Your son guards the guilty, the thief, and I am asking—no demanding—that she be turned over to me. This is my last request.”
“I am the All-Father.”
She had to work to keep her voice from cracking and her reply came out in a whisper. “And when you die, you too shall visit me, just like Baldr and the ones who walked before did. Will your stay be an enjoyable one, or one where those you denied their chance to dance in the sunshine of Asgard, torture you with their angst, frustration, and regret?”
“Enough.”
She considered for a moment the fate of her father Loki. If, as prophesied, he would betray the gods and embrace his giant nature. He, too, had danced in the in-between space and passed that down to them. His children always looked up at the shiny gold and coveted a place among the gods. But no matter what, they were always reminded of their giant nature.
A name change did not alter who they were, and that enmity grew with each new prophecy.
“It is called Helheim, not Odinheim,” she said and pulled back her shoulders. “There, I am the keeper of the dead and shall those entrusted to me have to rise in order to seek that which you deny me?”
“Why do you wish to have this woman?”
“She is the key to my brother’s cage, the one in which you have locked him and exiled him to the furthest part of the ocean. My brother who knows no one, and nothing except for a prophecy you seek to make a reality.”
“I’ve done no such thing.”
“You are like all of the generals and rulers before that have walked Midgard, always preparing for a battle. Not because they needed to fight it, but because of the spoils they would earn. I want the girl.”
“Freeing Jörmungandr would create chaos.”
“I don’t care about what you think. You and your kind have already stripped me of my throne, which awaits me, placing me in Midgard to observe a humanity you care nothing about.”
Odin pushed up from his throne—no one had ever made him move, no threat had ever been so strong as to force his hand. He lifted Lady Hel up by her throat until her feet swung beneath her.
“You dare threaten me? Me, who sacrificed myself on a tree to gain wisdom?”
She thought to say more, but to rile him up would only make the vein in his neck pop out further. He was a warrior and had shown his tenacity and love for war over the ages. He didn’t get to be the All-Father by simply declaring it. Even now, the names of his brothers, Vile and Ve, were hardly ever mentioned; they were probably bound somewhere, too.
He released her and she slumped to the floor.
“But what has it gained you but a fear of that which you can never change: your own death,” Hel began. “Shall I call the queen, for she seems to be the one who possesses some sense of a moral compass, and it is she who sits on the throne with you? As they say, you have twenty-four hours to respond or I’m going to have to up the ante.”
With a snap of her fingers, blue smoke wrapped itself around her, and she disappeared.
Chapter 21
Sif
“How long before you have no friends?” The strange voice shocked me into silence. It wasn’t my inner voice—I knew how she sounded. She liked to snort-giggle and was airy and light. There was nothing light about this voice, though.
Insidious whispers could turn into dark thoughts, devious actions.
On our smart-phones, we scrolled through our social media for updates as to what had happened—not what we knew but what the news said.
“Anyone got anything?” Chi asked. She continued to scroll, barely looking up.
My head ached and it would have been nice for none of this to be real. I could already hear the sirens blaring, coming ever closer.
“What can you tell me about the two men at the convention who attacked tonight?”
“Do you think they are going to spray them with a hose?” Ola asked.
“No, guys, look,” Kristen said holding up her phone. “Looks like some people have taken to burning tires out in the street to try and get rid of them.”
“Don’t they know that stuff is toxic?” Ola said.
“I don’t think they really care. All they see are insects that need squashing.”
Reading through my feed, the news reported that the collapse of the hotel was due to a gas main explosion, and the police had evacuated the entire area. With no stench of rotten eggs, the theory of natural gas went out the window, and no one had been evacuated. We waited here like cockroaches for the lights to go out.
We’d sought safety in an abandoned warehouse near where the hotel used to be. The area, already experiencing gentrification, luckily still had a way to go before all of the warehouses were refurbished.
Huddled together, reality hadn’t settled.
“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” I asked. I pointed my finger in Thor’s chest. “You’re a god. You should know these things.”
“You’re accepting that quite quickly,” Thor said. He’d protected us from thousands of pounds of debris with his strength.
“Why did I ever believe that you could offer us more, Mr. Protector of Humanity.”
“For the last time, I need my hammer.”
“What did you do before the dwarves crafted it for you? Were you a weakling then, unable to do anything, or were you as mighty as your father? You have the strength of one thousand men; can make the earth shake with your thunder.” I moved closer, my voice lowering. “You’re the physical embodiment of a storm, and the hammer is just your tool. Go out there and do something.”
Thor nodded and headed toward the door.
“I didn’t think that was going to work,” Chi said.
Through the swarms of locusts, I watched him move to the center, shout the loudest, deepest growl of a cry, and the earth began to shake and tremble. The insects attached to the nearest building began to fall off. They took shape, forming giant beings that moved and hissed.
“They are of the chaos,” I said as if I somehow knew this to be true.
It was this chaos that separated the worlds of the Aesir and the giants.
The locusts meshed together, their limbs moving in unison to form a suit of chitinous armor, empty but mobile, that came level with the second story windows as it lurched down the street.
Firemen moved in with their hoses to spray them, but the water was deflected by the insects’ powerful wings. Their scuttle turned to an incessant hiss.
“Mjölnir!” Thor raised his hand and beckoned. His hammer landed in his palm.
He raised his hammer. Lightning lit up the sky and sizzled down to the outstretched Mjölnir, illuminating the hammer’s cheek and emblazing the knot-worked metal.
I’d never seen such a smile, one filled with glee and courage. All that was missing were ancient drums to invoke the spirits’ strength.
Thor leaped high. He smashed the locust-formed giant right between where its eyes should have been and punched through it with the hammer’s force. The locust giant shattered, falling once again into individual insects.
Thor growled and glass windows shook.
Mjölnir wasn’t done, either. With the mighty hammer still ready to strike, the clouds above gathered again, and lightning struck, burning all of the hoppers into a crisp, until all that remained was dust.
Verdandi had once said, “To tap into the light, oftentimes you must dance in the dark.” In the Norse world, the dark was chaos. I could feel the battle within me—the tug and pull of something other and different, and it had been that way since the incident with Verdandi.
I knew Thor had worse odds, with so many approaching at once, and even he might need help.
I began to chant the Hail Day poem from the Sigrdrífumál, as uttered by the Valkyrie, Brynhildr. The clouds parted and there a female stood, decked out in golden armor, a gleaming sword resting in her right hand and her shield raised.
“Now I see why she is called the Shield Maiden,” Chi said, having overheard my chant.
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