Veiled Enchantments

by Deborah Blake

  “Months, you say?” Odin scratched his bearded chin. “It has not seemed so long to me, but then, time is different in the Upper Regions. I have been, shall we say, a little preoccupied.” He preened a bit. “The goddess Idunn came to me and offered her favors so sweetly, and every time I would have turned away to tend to my duties, she seduced me anew.”

  “Is that so?” Donata asked, suddenly suspicious. Call it Witch’s intuition, but it seemed odd that Idunn, the goddess of youth and springtime, should suddenly decide to embark on a spicy love affair with Odin right at the time when his people needed him the most.

  “And you were so absorbed by her, uh, attentions that you could not hear the Ulfhednar’s prayers or petitions?”

  He shook his head. “I have heard nothing. Have there been so many? Perhaps most were merely the daily prayers and devotions; I confess, I often pay little attention to such things.”

  “Alas, no, great All-father. The Ulfhednar have been plagued by visitations from those who have passed beyond the veil and should have been frolicking in Valhalla. They have been calling upon you to help them and are in despair because you have abandoned them in their hour of need.”

  Odin’s one-eyed gaze sharpened and he grew larger again as if a more massive form was needed to contain his anger. “The dead walk here? What is this blasphemy? How is it that I have not heard such urgent prayers?” He glanced around as if to find someone to blame.

  Donata cleared her throat and braced herself to give a god bad news. Not a god who was known for his calm temperament either. “I mean no disrespect, Wise One, but might I suggest that it is a strange coincidence that the lovely Idunn suddenly became so enamored of your company right at the time when you could least afford to be distracted?”

  Emotions raced across the god’s face, warring with one another: indignant denial, offended pride, anger, and finally, something that looked like reluctant respect. But when he turned his countenance on Donata, anger was at the forefront. Thankfully, it appeared not to be aimed at her.

  A staff appeared in his hand, much like the one the Ulfhednar used at their gathering, and he thudded it on the ground, making the entire clearing shake. “Idunn, you treacherous bitch,” he roared. “Attend your king this instant!”

  A swirl of smoke that smelled of ripening blossoms and fresh new grass burst out of the bonfire and solidified into a stunning blond woman with hair that floated gently to her ankles, bright blue eyes the color of a robin’s egg, and a guileless expression. Pale pink robes wafted around her, translucent enough that they revealed more than they hid. One hand held a golden apple.

  “You called for me?” she said in tones sweeter than the most melodic birdsong. “We have barely finished our latest dance of pleasure and you are already eager for another? Truly, you are the king of the gods.”

  Then she took a closer look around and made a face, wrinkling her snub nose adorably. “My darling, what is this place? And who is that?” She waved the hand not holding the apple in Donata’s general direction. “I do not object to dallying with a woman, but surely not a Witch. And not in a filthy meadow. Really, Odin. Where do you get your ideas?”

  “I think a better question might be, where do you get yours, Idunn?” Odin said, fixing her with a glare from his one eye. “For instance, where did you get the notion to come to my bed now, after all these eons? And how, for that matter, did you manage to keep me so absorbed in your charms that I could not hear my own people crying out for help?”

  Idunn sighed dramatically and suddenly looked marginally less irresistible. “It is not my fault, Odin. Or at least, it was not my idea. I was summoned by one who knew the old ways and offered many sacrifices and lovely gifts if I would merely divert your attention until after the winter solstice.”

  She held out one slim arm to show off a glittering bracelet of gemstones and gold. “Look, is it not beautiful?” A delicate pout formed on her full lips. “It has been such a long time since any have worshipped me as they should. How could I say no?” She winked at him. “Besides, we have had fun, have we not? What is the harm?”

  “The harm,” Donata said in a firm tone, not as intimidated by talking to a goddess as others with less experience might be, “is that Odin’s Ulfhednar have suffered because he was too focused on you to be able to tune in to his connection to those he created.” She narrowed her eyes. “How is that even possible, no matter how beautiful and sexy you are?”

  Idunn preened at the compliments. “Oh, well, I might have had a teensy bit of help. The one who gave me the gifts also gave me a vial of some herbs to add to Odin’s drink. Just a few drops, but they said it would make Odin forget about anything but me. It was nice to be the center of his attention for a while.”

  “You did what?” Odin roared.

  The goddess shrugged, clearly less sorry about her actions than disappointed that she had been caught.

  “The one who called you was an Ulfhednar?” Donata asked. It was hard to imagine who else would be capable of calling a Norse goddess.

  “Of course,” Idunn said. “Someone of influence and importance, obviously, although I did not bother to ask for a name. What, did you think it was a Witch? I am hardly likely to come when some Witch calls me.”

  “Depends on how loud she yells,” Odin muttered into his beard. The ravens cackled. “What are you considering, Witch? That one of your kind was involved in this trickery?”

  “Well, the Ulfhednar are not exactly known for creating potions, All-father. But I suppose that someone willing to buy a diamond bracelet and other showy gifts would also be capable of hiring a Witch to make such a thing. I’m afraid that not all Witches worry about what the consequences of their actions might be.”

  Odin glared at Idunn. “Nor all goddesses, apparently.” He pointed the staff at his erstwhile lover. “Be gone from my sight, Idunn. And best you stay gone for a cycle or two around the sun, to give me time to forget this treachery.” He gave a howl, and two giant wolves suddenly appeared. Idunn shrieked as they chased her into the smoke of the fire, leaving Donata standing in an otherwise empty field with Odin.

  “Why would anyone go to so much trouble to keep me from my people?” he wondered aloud. “This is a strange thing.”

  “Clearly someone is targeting some of those who are training to be Ulf,” Donata told him. “They are the only ones being haunted, as far as I can tell. But as to why someone would want to do that, I frankly have no idea.” She smiled at him. “I can tell you, though, that your Ulfhednar will be very happy and relieved to know you have returned.”

  Odin nodded. “No doubt, no doubt. You are friends with the local clan, I take it?”

  “I am.” One hand crept to her belly reflexively, and she quickly moved it away.

  “Good,” he said. “Tell the Lawspeaker to gather my people together as the sun sets and I will come to them and reassure them of my continued love and affection.”

  “I am sure they will be overjoyed,” Donata said. But then her face fell. “Unfortunately, this doesn’t solve the problem of the ghosts. Is there anything you can do to keep them from leaving Valhalla and coming back here?”

  The god frowned. “I will have to look into this. I cannot understand how the spirits of the honored dead are returning or, for that matter, why. They have all they could ever want in Valhalla. None should wish to leave.”

  One of the ravens cawed loudly. “Ah, but in the meanwhile, Huginn reminds me that I can still do something to help those who are affected.”

  He waved his staff at the fire, and sparks of multicolored light flew up. Small rectangular pieces came flying out of the ashes. As they landed in a pile at her feet, Donata could see that they were the rune stones she’d thrown into the flames. They should have been burned to cinders, but somehow they’d been transformed into some hard substance that seemed like a cross between metal and stone. All the runes originally
carved into the surfaces had been replaced with a single rune symbol: Algiz, for protection.

  “Give these to those who strive to become Ulf. It is a noble pursuit and this will keep them safe from ghosts until they have achieved their goals or failed respectably without interference from another. Tell them to wear these charms or keep them upon their persons, and they shall be under my shield.”

  Odin gave her one more piercing look. “As for you, Witch, you have done a great service for my Ulfhednar, and I shall not forget. Now seek you out those who would harm my people, and stop them, in my name. This task you have started, and so you must finish. Honor depends upon it.”

  After that somber pronouncement, he swirled his cloak, walked back into the smoke, and disappeared. The ravens dived in after him in a flurry of wings, and the fire went out with a whoosh, leaving the coals cold and lifeless.

  Donata didn’t know whether to cheer or weep. On the one hand, she had finally managed to succeed in part of what she’d come to Gimle to do; Odin would speak to the Ulfhednar again, and the Ulf candidates should be protected from the ghosts who had been causing so much trouble. She leaned over and scooped the transformed rune stones into the leather bag she’d used to bring them there.

  On the other hand, she was no closer to knowing who was causing the problems in the first place. Plus she’d discovered that whomever it was had the power to call a goddess and probably had a Witch working either for or with them. Something told her that today’s triumphs weren’t going to be the end of the matter. Not by a long shot.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Donata knocked hesitantly on Halfrida’s door. She’d been tempted to wait until Magnus got home from training, but today was Monday, and the last two big tests were Tuesday and Wednesday before Thanksgiving came around on Thursday, and he didn’t get home until late most nights . . . She had a feeling that if any more ghost-induced incidents were going to happen, they were likely to occur soon. Waiting just didn’t seem like a good idea. Even if Donata found Halfrida only marginally less intimidating than Odin himself.

  The Lawspeaker opened the door and raised one eyebrow when she saw Donata standing there. The gray hair braided on top of her head looked like a crown, and her upright carriage and stern, hook-nosed face made her seem even more regal. Only the pink-and-purple-checked flannel shirt looked out of place, although Donata thought she pulled even that off well.

  “Good morning,” Halfrida said. “To what do I owe this visit? Please tell me you have good news for me. After that meeting, I could certainly use some.” She gestured Donata inside and led her into a sunny sitting room decorated with animal heads and other hunting paraphernalia. Donata had no doubt that the Lawspeaker had taken down the trophies herself. Probably with her bare hands. Donata looked away from the glassy eyes and thought, not for the first time, that she would never fit in with the Ulfhednar, no matter how much she liked them.

  Halfrida sat on a neat wooden chair, her hands folded on her lap and her expression composed. It was clear she was braced for more disappointment.

  Perching on the edge of a matching seat, Donata handed the older woman the leather bag full of rune pieces. “Here,” she said, barely containing her smile. “A gift.”

  “You brought me a gift?” Halfrida said, sounding puzzled.

  “They aren’t a gift from me,” Donata said. “They’re from Odin.” Now she let out the grin she’d been holding back. “I just spoke to him.”

  Halfrida’s eyes widened. “You—you spoke to Odin? You were able to summon him?” Tears of joy sprang into her eyes. “He has not abandoned us?”

  “Not intentionally, no.” Donata explained the entire situation, ending with the promise that Odin would appear to the Ulfhednar at dusk.

  The Lawspeaker closed her eyes for a moment, her spine sagging briefly before she straightened and took a deep breath. “My people will be most relieved,” she said. “I will send the word to gather at the meeting hall; I’m sure that everyone will come who is able.”

  She looked down at the leather bag she held, spilling a few of the pieces out into one calloused palm. “These were simple wooden runes? It is hard to believe. And Odin assured you that they will protect the remaining Ulf candidates?”

  Donata nodded.

  “Then we must take them over immediately,” Halfrida said, rising decisively from her chair. “It is the rule that training should not be interrupted, but I will make an exception for this.” She handed the leather bag back to Donata. “Come, girl, you are the hero here. Let us show the others that neither Magnus nor I was a fool for allowing you to attempt to solve our problem.”

  Donata followed her out of the house and down the street toward the practice hall. “You do realize that I have only resolved part of the crisis, right? I have reconnected you with Odin, which I know is important, and hopefully have found a way to keep any more of the Ulf contenders from getting injured—at least by surprise ghost appearances—before they can pass their final tests.”

  She sent up a silent prayer that Magnus would pass. It meant so much to him, she couldn’t help but wish him success, even though it would end of any hope of a relationship between them.

  “Those are no small achievements,” Halfrida said.

  “They’re not,” Donata said. “But they don’t get us any closer to finding out who was behind the whole thing. Someone—or more than one someone—sent the ghosts deliberately to sabotage the trials, and also bribed Idunn to keep Odin distracted. I doubt that he or she or they will give up now. Even if they do, I’d really like to see them punished for the damage they’ve done.” You attacked my boyfriend; prepare to die.

  “Agreed,” Halfrida said. “But for now, let us celebrate the positive. As Lawspeaker, I am responsible for my people’s well-being, both physical and mental. I have let them down of late and will be glad to take at least a day or two to enjoy feeling less inadequate.”

  Donata’s jaw dropped. It had never occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling like a failure. “Here,” she said, thrusting the leather bag back at Halfrida. “You should give these to the Ulf candidates. They will trust them more coming from you anyway.”

  When the older woman would have protested, Donata said with a smile, “Feel free to give me full credit. I can use all the help with this crowd that I can get.”

  Halfrida nodded, her dignity firmly back in place. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “It is a pity that your engagement with Magnus Torvald is a sham. You would have made a good Ulfhednar. You know, for a Witch.”

  The meeting hall was packed wall to wall with bodies, much as it had been for the Thing the other night. But the mood could not have been more different. Entire families clustered together, some with small children perched on their parents’ shoulders to keep them from being stepped on in the crowd. Donata purposely didn’t try to figure out which children belonged to whom. After all, the Ulfhednar were close-knit and practically one big family as it was. Nothing to report here, Mr. Moore.

  Word had already spread that Donata had been responsible for contacting Odin, and while some of the townspeople were withholding judgment until their god actually appeared, many others were greeting her warmly and slapping her on the back. Magnus walked by her side, grinning broadly and wearing his new talisman on a chain around his neck. The other Ulf candidates either wore or carried theirs as well, although Donata still wondered if they might have refused them had Halfrida not been the one to hand them out.

  Finally, as the sun slipped below the hills, Halfrida stepped to the fire pit and poured out a pitcher of mead at its edge. Lifting her arms wide, she cried out, “Odin, king of the gods, All-father who created the Ulfhednar back in the mists of time, your people have longed for your presence. Come to us now, we beseech you.”

  A lofty figure walked from the back of the room, a head above even the tallest of the Ulfhednar, a wide-brimm
ed hat on his head, a cape swirling around his wide shoulders, and a staff held in one hand. Two ravens flew before him, parting the crowd like water.

  “No need to beseech me, my children,” Odin boomed. “I am here, to give you all my blessing.”

  Donata noticed he didn’t apologize for his disappearance, but in her experience, gods rarely did.

  The Ulfhednar cheered, and shouted, “Odin! Odin! Odin!” until Donata was afraid the building would collapse around them like so much kindling.

  Eventually they calmed down and Odin, having moved to stand next to Halfrida, gestured at the token Magnus wore. “I see you received my gifts,” he said. More cheering. “Step forward, those of you who wear them.”

  The Ulf candidates all moved closer, Lora being helped up to the front by a supportive man Donata thought was probably her father. Most were a little pale at being this close to their god but stood proudly nonetheless.

  Odin held out one hand, pointing at each one in turn. “You have my blessing, warriors. Stay strong. Fight well for your people. Make me proud.” All the talismans began to glow softly; even those that were tucked into pockets—or, in Lora’s case, her bra—could be seen through the clothing. Freddy wept unashamedly.

  “You are my people,” Odin said in a slightly softer tone, which could still be heard in every corner of the room. “Know this—I would never abandon you. I created you so that someday your descendants could fight at my side in the battle of Ragnarok. I gifted you with the ability to channel the animal whose totem you were born under. You are the Ulfhednar and you are mine!”

  With this proclamation, he and his ravens vanished in a bright light that left everyone in the room blinking.

  Halfrida recovered first and thudded her staff on the floor to signal the end of the gathering. “Our god has returned to us, for which we are grateful beyond measure.” She stared meaningfully at Donata, although she didn’t say anything further about her part in things. It was Gimle. Everyone already knew.