Chapter 23
IT WAS AGAIN A SAD sight to see the Bifrost so mangled and torn. A little like his life right now, torn and ripped to pieces. A bridge between the present and past. It was easier to live in the present when the reminders of the past were absent. Midgard provided that, but here, along the trunk of Yggdrasil, the tree on which all the realms existed, it was harder not to see.
"Where are you, rodent?" he called as he stood on the back of his brother's chariot. The sky was quiet and still, the glow of stars casting a mellow light. The sun was in the sky, it's radiance cooler here than in Midgard or Asgard.
Listening, he heard nothing of note. A rustle in the distance, which had to be one of the celestial animals moving. There were a few, but rarely did they interact with man or god.
"Ratatosk!" he roared, but only stillness met him. The squirrel was not approaching, but Balder guessed he was within hearing distance. "That is a shame," he said wistfully. "I wanted to know if it was true that Nidhogg was starved and weak. We have heard in passing that Eagle has said so. Too few humans to drink and now he grows weak. Eagle must be laughing at him."
Looking around, Balder searched the sky for the rodent.
"I suppose it would be the perfect time for Eagle to strike if Nidhogg is as weak as they say. Hel isn't even giving him the humans she takes, I understand. She prefers to keep them." A dark wave washed through him, even as he knew she had taken these young men to needle him. Had she laid with them since he had cornered her in the village? Discomfort crawled over his skin—at both his and her behavior. It seemed he wasn't strong enough to resist her, even now. Perhaps that was what he had always feared and he needed to be man enough to admit it.
It was easier to believe he had no culpability, but that wasn't true. Ideally, he wanted to forget all about it, but he would soon face Hel again. Had to get through to Nastrand. No one he knew had ever returned from there. It worried him what state his brother would be in if there. It would perhaps be best that he not be, destroyed a long time ago. But he had to make sure.
His job done, Balder turned away from the sky and traveled down. The chariot was fast and Balder soon moved away from the sun into darker areas. After some time, the Midgard ocean sat like a bowl over him, dark and shiny as it undulated.
It would take a few days to travel to Helheim, and Balder both dreaded reaching it and not, but it had to be done. Hopefully she would not send her new toys to fight him. Beside him, Gungnir stood in case he needed it. But it was intended more for Nidhogg than dead humans. It was said that Nidhogg guarded his hall well so no one escaped.
It wasn't as simple as slaying the serpent. Hel had made the point that he was needed, and she had just about decimated humanity to regrow him after Ragnarok. Killing the vile beast was far from ideal, but he couldn't say that he wouldn't to save Hoder. A sacrifice others would pay for with their lives.
Balder slept along the road where the land was deeply scored. A fire did nothing to chase the pressing darkness away. It was a doleful light in a vast sea of darkness. Nothing good lived down this way, where icy winds rushed through, howling over the marred landscape that was the bark of the tree of life.
After sleeping, he continued as long as he could until he would sleep again. The worst thing about traveling the road down to Helheim was being left to battle one's own thoughts as there was nothing else. No merciful distractions to be had from the fact that his wife had utterly rejected him and perhaps she was right to. His bone-deep attraction to Hel wasn't all artifice, judging by how easily he relented to her and let her take what she wanted from him. Or maybe it had been the other way around and he had taken from her. He didn't know. His head hurt thinking about it.
Finally after a few days, he arrived at Helheim's gate, which was still in a state of repair after they'd come to claim Nanna. On some strange level, it pleased him that the scars were still there from where he had battered his way in. Hel did not have all the power.
The hound barked, heralding to her about his arrival. It didn't take her long to appear, walking barefoot out of the hall in the gown the color of moonlight floating around her as if made of mist. He remembered the coolness of the material, how it slithered through his fingers when he touched it.
"Hel," he said as he dismounted. "I have come, as I said I would."
"You are to jump in my lake," she said with a raised eyebrow. "No doubt you will perish down there. Perhaps you always belonged there. Nidhogg, I am sure, would love to have you."
That was pure spite and nothing but. A young man appeared behind her. Rosy-cheeked and flushed with youth. They had not been drained as he'd expected. Hel wanted them warm and perpetual. Ugly jealousy reared and he hated it. Why would his traitorous mind present him with jealousy when he should be happy that she indulged her licentiousness elsewhere? He had been victim to her whims long enough.
And after, he had gone and victimized himself—all by his own doing.
"Care to dine in my hall, lover?" she asked pointedly. He had certainly given up the moral high ground by laying with her. He could not play the victim now. There was a challenge in her voice, taunting him with his own squeamishness.
In fact, he did need to eat, to gather his strength for what was to come. "Such grand hospitality," he said, not bringing himself to graciously accepting.
"Nonsense, this was your home for thousands of years. You will always have a place in my hall." Her smile was indulgent, but also condescending.
Fixing his grimace into a smile, he followed behind her, wishing he could throw the spear into her back. The problem with Hel was that she was necessary. More so than he was. She performed an essential service, but she got little gratitude for it. For a moment, he felt chided for the lack of gratitude she had always been shown. It grated on her and she strived too hard to make people acknowledge her and what she did, to ever be dismissed. Perhaps it was no wonder she was as thorny as she was, but also being the victim of her sense of entitlement, it was hard to not strive against it. Hel felt she was owed whatever it was she wanted, and her temper raged when it didn't come her way.
Young men lingered around her hall, some draped over the furnishings. They certainly didn't look unhappy to be there. Balder guessed they hadn't been here long enough to see Hel in one of her tempers, where she would lash out at anyone near her.
Here she had a harem, worshipping her as she wanted to be worshipped. Hel refused to be the victim, and she would change the rules of the game to ensure she wasn't. This was a display of that, replacing him with four young bucks to do her bidding.
It wasn't really a victory, though. What she wanted was acknowledgment and validation, but she could never bring herself to ask for it. Pride, so much pride.
Sitting down in a chair, Balder brought meat and bread to his plate. He was going to need strength. "What do you know of Nastrond?"
"It's dark, it smells. Every single part of it is dripping with poison. And it's likely to be your new home for a long time." She looked at him with her gaze holding him. "How's your wife?"
Looking at her now, he knew that Hel was going to make a point of telling Nanna what they had done. Perhaps even while he was gone. There was no point pleading with her; her pride was hurt and she was bent on inflicting pain. How much pain it would cause Nanna, he didn't know. Perhaps it was a good thing she had ended their marriage. No point telling Hel. "She is finding her feet, embracing her humanity."
"That's right; she was nothing more than a human, wasn't she? So frail."
"Not despicable enough to torture the weak, though," Balder replied, taking a potshot. Hel torturing Nanna with the knowledge she had would be nothing but her picking on the weak. Not that Hel had ever had any qualms in that regard. She believed that weakness was anything but a virtue and deserved to be picked on.
Chapter 24
IT FELT STRANGE HAVING Balder in her hall again. It also felt so very familiar. The young men watched him, hardly knowing who he was or what he signified. Som
e of them had perhaps seen him before she'd claimed them, but they were so new they understood practically nothing. They certainly didn't understand the significance of a quest down to Nastrond.
No one ever returned from there, not that anyone but Balder was stupid enough to go down and try to rescue someone. Typically, your rapists and murderers weren't lamented over to the point where a rescue would be attempted. Not even Hel wanted those people in her hall. Nasty, evil people.
Balder ate, keeping his own counsel. Nothing had changed with him; he looked exactly the same, but so much had changed. It felt as though it had been a long time since she'd seen him smile.
Taking a deep breath, she stayed in her seat. There was no easy comfort here. No easy conversation either. Balder hadn't come to see her, to be with her—he was simply passing through. Eager to get moving on with the journey he had ahead.
"So your wife is embracing her humanity, you said?" she finally asked.
"It is not for you to speak of Nanna," he said reproachfully. Why wasn't it? Nanna had been a resident in her hall just as he had, although the woman had never wanted to be. Not like Balder, who had never had a complaint. Until he'd determined that her hospitality hadn't been good enough—although he was certainly tucking into her food now.
Outside, she heard water moving, gently lapping on the shore. Nidhogg was moving. He rarely came to the surface unless there were humans to feed on. Hel certainly hadn't called him. Something had. "It seems your presence is anticipated," she said.
Balder looked up and followed her gaze as it returned outside. Rising, he walked over to the large window. Snow fell on the water and ice washed up on the shore.
How many times had they stood like this, looking out the window. More than she could recall, but she couldn't touch him now. He wouldn't allow it. Her hands itched to touch his warm, firm flesh.
"I don't think he expects me," Balder said. "I might have thrown some ideas to Eagle saying Nidhogg was currently weak."
"Nidhogg is not weak," Hel said.
"Eagle doesn't know that. And Nidhogg wouldn't be able to bear him being thought weak. I was hoping they would battle."
"It is not right that you antagonize them every time you want something."
"It works. Hopefully he will be out of my way while I search his hall."
"I was serious when I said all is venom. The walls and the ceiling drip of it. Nidhogg would not make it easy to remove his guests either. There will be traps. If he can, he will keep you down there to torture until there is nothing left of your mind, and long after that."
Discomfort clenched her body. As angry as she was, she didn't want that for him. "There is no reason for you to do this," she said. Actually it hurt to think him down there, existing in such despair.
"He is my brother."
How was that relevant? Hel would wish an eternity of pain on anyone who killed one of her family members. Hoder had been stupid and it had been jealousy that had driven that stupidity. He deserved what he got. Probably more. Nastrond was the perfect place for people like him.
If he was even there. Balder would certainly have annoyed Nidhogg to the point of eating him—Hoder probably had too. But then she didn't know Hoder, but generally, all of Odin's sons were annoying beyond tolerance. The whole family, come to think of it. They had certainly driven her father, Loki, to distraction.
A smile spread across her lips thinking about the old times. How they had battled with each other on and on. Now they were all gone and it was only her and Balder. Now Balder was going to leave, put himself in such peril that she was going to be alone again. "Don't go," she said quietly. She didn't want him to do this. It was stupid to do this. But the gods of Asgard, if anything, were known for their arrogant stupidity. Stupid bravery that served little purpose. "Stay here. We can be as we were."
"No, we cannot."
"You love me. I know you do."
He didn't turn to look at her. "But I would not journey to Nastrand to rescue you," he finally said.
It stung like a blow, taking the breath from her lungs. "Nidhogg would never keep me in Nastrond." But that wasn't the point. He would battle Nidhogg to save his brother, probably his stupid, pathetic wife, but not her. It felt like a sharp slice through her heart, too fine to see at first, until it started bleeding. "Then I hope you die," she said, turning her back on him. "Serves you right for your stupidity."
Head held high, she sat down on her throne again, the young men gathering around her. Right now, she was glad they were there. They would distract and amuse her, push away the hurt that Balder had inflicted.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Balder move toward the entrance.
"If you hurt Nidhogg, I will kill every human there is," she stated so her voice rang through the cavernous hall.
"Then we should both hope that Eagle will keep him distracted enough that I will be finished and gone by the time he returns."
At this point, she wanted to say something contrary like she would call him back and ensure he sunk his venomous teeth deep into Balder's treacherous body, but she couldn't. Nidhogg had to live, so she couldn't let spite drive her actions, even if she wanted to. "I will kill Vali's wife; I will kill your wife. They are both human, after all."
"Vali would anticipate you trying, and it would be the end of you."
"Without me, you would be overrun by the dead."
"It would not be the first time we gods have set up a hall for the dead."
"I hate you," she called, seeing his back at the door. Tears formed in the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them spill. It was a weakness she wouldn't allow herself.
With his hands on his hips, he stared at her, the expression in his face stoic. "You do not need to take your anger at me out on other people."
Raged filled her. “Do not tell me what to do!”
“These are things between you and me,” he yelled back.
“Worried I will slay your precious wife?”
“Why does everything in my life have to oppose all other?” he said, shaking his hands. “I don’t want to fight with you, Hel.”
“Then do not fight my child," she stated harshly, knowing the statement sounded strange. "A corpse eater is necessary, and it will take more humans than you have to grow a new one."
For a moment, they simply looked at each other. "Be well, Hel," he finally said.
"Please die, Balder," she replied tartly.
Turning, he disappeared from view, but nothing happened outside until some time later, when she heard Balder wade into the lake. What she would do in the meantime, she didn't know. Perhaps pray for the Norns to be merciful when determining his fate. Or had he spoken to them beforehand. It was rarely helpful as they gave cryptic answers. They seriously discouraged gods bothering them about their fates, or those of other people.
There was no splash of Nidhogg striking at him. His ruse to distract had worked, but Nastrand was not as easy to navigate as he thought, and Nidhogg was wiser to how he was manipulated than Balder believed. There was a very good chance they would face each other.
Pragmatically, her loyalty needed to be with Nidhogg. He was needed; he was her child, Balder was not.
Turning her eyes to the water, she still felt unshed tears burning the back of her eyes. It seemed the lovely man she had spent so much time with had reverted to the awful gods that had reigned in Asgard. Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised. Given the chance, he had reverted to the arrogant and loathsome man he always had been.
"Not now," she said to one of the young men, who was touching her leg, vying for her attention. She had made it a game between them, vying for her attention, but she couldn't abide them now. Instead, she rose and walked out to the now quiet lake where Balder had submerged himself.
In a way, she wished to never see him again. A treacherous part of her wanted him to be safe. It was a part she needed to quell, because it wasn't appreciated and her regard wasn't returned. Balder didn't care enough about her to be tru
thful about the things between them, so why should she waste her time?
It would serve him right if she called Nidhogg back to go deal to him. It would serve him right, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Chapter 25
THE HEAVY CHAIN BALDER had bunched over his shoulder did much of the work for him as he sunk deeper and deeper into the dark, cold water. How much time he had before Nidhogg returned, he had no idea. Would fate be so kind to him as to go and leave before the serpent returned? That would simply be too easy, and of late, nothing had been easy. It seemed everything that could go wrong went wrong, things were always worse than they seemed, or than he hoped.
Looking down, he saw nothing. He wasn't even sure he was sinking anymore because all around him was blackness. Nothing moved, nothing sounded, and he shuddered thinking Nanna had spent so much time in this nothingness. It was uncomfortable to think what unhappiness had driven her to it. A responsibility he had to bear. Not entirely, but he had to admit his own culpability. The truth was that he hadn't been strong enough to defend his wife. Unease clenched his gut. And now she refused to let him make amends. Instead, she simply wanted to be set free, and as much as he strived against it, he should do little else but to comply with her wishes. He owed her that for his failure.
The problem was that when he truly looked inside his heart, he wasn't sure it was love that drove him, more obligation. It wasn't an obligation he resented—simply that he owed his wife whatever he could to make up for the hardship she had endured. Nanna had been an excellent wife. She had never challenged; never argued. But now she was not his wife anymore, and it was true that he saw little of the woman he had known in her. Her experiences had changed her—maybe his had changed him too. It was hard to tell. The angry, resentful man he was now had never been a part of him before.
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