by Matt Larkin
“If I …”
“You can live forever,” she said.
What a thought.
He bit down. Tastes exploded in his mouth. His throat. His eyes swam. Whole fucking house spun. More. More! Juice dribbled over his face. He was lying on his back. How had he gotten here? Another bite. Another. Fire and ice and life surging through his veins. His heart ready to explode.
Every muscle tingling.
Alive.
So alive.
The core fell from his half-numb fingers. He rolled to his knees. Room whirling. Round and round, up and down, like a ball. Idunn sitting there, half a smile on her face, watching.
Her pulse beating fast, in time with his own. Showing through her skin. Through that thin dress.
He crawled to her.
“Are you well, Tyr? It can be … overwhelming.”
Frey’s flaming sword! Whole body was going to fly apart. So alive. And he needed more and more life.
He launched himself atop her and tore at her dress, hiking it up over her hips. She laughed. Made no attempt to stop him.
Stroked his cheek as he fumbled with his trousers. “I know. It happens to everyone. But if you choose me you’ll face consequences. Maybe see things you didn’t—ugh.”
She grunted as he pushed inside her. He pounded again and again, choking in fervor. Not able to find release. Frey! He just needed to let go. To be with someone again after so long. To hold her.
“Zisa,” he mumbled.
“No.” Idunn shoved him backward, then straddled him. “I am not her.”
She grunted, panted. And then screamed, laughed. Waves of it hit him. Made him spasm. Time stopped.
Idunn sat in the shadow of a tree that touched the heavens. Sat with an old woman, deep tan skin, short hair. Talking, arguing. And somehow setting the course of the future.
And the old woman died. Idunn carried her ashes across the world, beyond the Midgard Wall—where it should have been—and vanished into the snowstorms. The chaos realm. She had walked into Utgard.
“I’ve eaten some bad mushrooms …”
Idunn leaned her face, glowing face, radiant, close to his. He lay on his back. “I warned you.”
21
Idunn emerged from Tyr’s house, flushed, her dress torn.
Odin watched her, arms folded over his chest. She jumped just a little when she saw him, then flashed her wicked half smile.
“When I asked you to give him an apple, I did not expect you to give him so much more.”
She shrugged. “We all have needs. The apples are so imbued with the energy of life they tend to bring those needs to the forefront.”
Odin quirked a smile. “You weren’t concerned about my needs when I ate my apple.”
Idunn grinned. “You didn’t ask.” She winked and returned to the dance.
Son of a bitch. Did she mean she would have …?
Now there was a missed opportunity he’d regret for eternity. He shook his head. “Walk with me, Idunn.”
She smoothed her dress and fell in beside him, apparently trying to ignore the rip running up the red silk. Odin stifled a chuckle. In his fervent lust, Tyr had ruined fabric no doubt worth more gold than the thegn had ever seen.
When they had passed away from the other houses, he turned on her. “I have agreed to your terms, Vanr. I must soon choose the rest of my companions. Give me the last three apples.”
Idunn quirked a smile. “Have someone in mind?” She drew the apples from her dress, and he dropped them in his satchel.
“I might. But before I can become king, I have something more I need.”
Idunn sighed. “By the Tree, Odin, I beseech you for the good of all, let this thing go.”
He scowled. Already knew what he’d ask then. Ve was blood. And for him, Odin would never let go. “Where do I find these Niflungar?”
“Such ancient peoples are best left forgotten. They serve as a distraction from your true goal.”
He clenched his fist at his side. His true goal was saving his brother, and if the ghost could do that, he’d take any action on her account. “I have an oath to uphold, one made before my oath to you. Help me fulfill that oath, then I will tend to yours.”
“These people worship Hel, Odin. They draw strength from the Otherworlds, and it changes them, turns them into something you cannot imagine. They were driven from these lands long ago, and even if I knew were they now hid, I would not tell you. Do not disturb their rest. Better for you, for us all, if they are left to slumber.”
Odin slapped his fist against a tree trunk. “Enough! If you won’t help me I will find someone who will.”
“Odin!” she shouted after him. He did not stop, did not turn back to face her. The goddess was quick to offer assistance—when it suited her—and withhold it when it did not. And that refusal reeked of betrayal. Or his own delusion in allowing himself to believe she cared aught for the anguish suffered by Odin or his kin.
Leaving her behind, he trod to where his new blood brother took shelter. The man sat awake, staring into the flames of his fire pit almost as though he expected company. “Do you know where the Niflungar lurk now?”
Loki motioned for Odin to sit across the flame. “Welcome, brother. Still you seek this amulet, and it so vexes you, but at last you begin to realize the questions you ought to have asked before embarking on this undertaking.”
Odin groaned but did take the seat. “Damn it, Loki. Can I not have a straight answer?”
“Would you know one if you stumbled upon it?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Loki dug a finger into the ash around the fire pit, drawing a line. “The simplest way to reach from one place to another is a straight line.” He dropped a stone in the middle of that line. “Unless of course a mountain blocks your path. Then you must assess whether to go around, under, or over—all to reach a destination you cannot actually see.”
“I’m not looking for a metaphor.”
“Perhaps that’s the problem. You assume that, despite the mountain in your path, the simplest road must still be a straight one.”
Odin snatched the rock and flung it out into the snow. “Who are the Niflungar? Where do they dwell?”
Loki sighed. “What do you know of the Old Kingdoms?”
Odin groaned. Now more lessons. “They dominated the North Realms for a long time. You said they all fell apart some eight hundred years ago, left a bunch of ruins. Oh, the Odlingar were one of them.”
“One of nine kingdoms. Also among them, the most feared, most treacherous, were the Niflungar. They tried to conquer all the North Realms, and though they were defeated, it was not before breaking many of the Old Kingdoms, and not without great cost to those who remained. The Niflungar fled from these lands and retreated into myth, into restless sleep, awaiting the day they might return.”
Gods, what had he agreed to? How was he to find these people at all in three moons, let alone retrieve the ghost’s stolen amulet? In a moment of desperation, he’d made any bargain he could to save his brother. Once again, he’d been a fool to give no thought to the cost. But he no longer had a choice. He had to save Ve.
“Brother …” Odin blew out a breath. “In the time I have known you, I have come to rely a great deal on you.”
“You honor me with your trust.”
“Then tell me how to find the Niflungar. I understand what you say. Even Idunn tells me to turn away, that these people draw strength from the Otherworlds. But I cannot turn back, surely you understand that. I will not abandon my brother to mist-madness. The ghost is the only salvation I have left to turn to.”
“Salvation is not the province of ghosts,” Loki said, then sighed. “The Niflungar’s power comes from an Otherworld—Niflheim, the World of Mist and domain of … Hel herself.” Loki almost seemed to choke on that. Frightened? Him? “They are sorcerers, Odin, masters of the Art who would leave your vӧlvur trembling in pools of their own urine and begging to wake from nightmares without en
d. And you are so resolved to seek them out?”
“I have to!” Odin leaned forward. “Do you not understand family, man?”
“Yes, brother, I understand family.” He looked to the fire pit and shook his head. “There are those who can answer any question, should they be so inclined. They can speak of all who walk on Midgard and even those who dwell beyond, for they watch from outside the bounds of time as we see it. You call them Norns. And they will have your answers, if you can ask the right questions.”
Norns. Weavers of urd, mistresses of fate. Every step he took carried him deeper into mist-madness. Into realms beyond those of men, beyond where any sane or living soul ought to tread. And still, there remained no way back. Only forward. “So be it. Take me to them.”
“I will arrange it.” Loki rose.
“Wait, brother. I … I owe you more and more with every passing day. Idunn has asked me to become King of the Aesir. I would have you by my side in this.”
Loki folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head. “I already swore a blood oath to you.”
Odin fished through his satchel and pulled out an apple. “You know what this is? Eat it when you find yourself free to take a woman.” Or three.
Odin’s foreign brother stared at it before taking it and slipping it into a sack at his side. “Even if you find the Niflungar, even if you steal the Singasteinn back from them, still you have made other oaths that bind you.”
“Yes. That’s why I need you to help me become king. I gave apples to my brothers, too, and to Tyr.”
“A few immortal warriors alone will not put a crown on your head.”
Odin grunted. “No. But with them and Gungnir, it’s a damned good start. I’ll bend the people to my will if I must, and offer them a better future.”
“Offer them? Or thrust it upon them for their own good? Thus speaks many a tyrant.”
Odin’s fist clenched at his side. Who in Hel’s name did Loki think he was? Odin had just given him fucking immortality, and his brother compared him to a tyrant? “Is that how you see me?”
“No, but others will. If you choose to follow Idunn, then consider carefully how you do so.”
Odin worked his jaw. In truth, Loki was probably right. As usual. But Loki also understood the twisted urd cast upon Ve. “I had to make this bargain.”
With a sigh Odin rose and left to walk the grounds. In the day, the mists weren’t as bad, and one need not fear the vaettir—at least not as much. According to Idunn, he should now be immune to the effects of the mist. He was one of a lucky few, while the rest of the Aesir suffered under a plague stretching back five thousand years. But still, he’d be careful to heed Heidr’s words on caution. It was a mistake he would never repeat.
In the woods just beyond the tents, a horse neighed. Odin jerked at the sound. Horses were rare and valuable beasts, and the Wodanar had few enough that no one would let one roam free. He crept forward to the edge of a copse.
Despite Odin’s attempt at stealth, Loki beckoned to him. Odin rose to join him, then balked. The horse Loki led had eight legs, a pair jutting from each shoulder and hip joint.
“What in Hel’s frozen underworld is that?”
“This,” Loki said, guiding the horse toward Odin, “is Sleipnir. Finest steed in the lands, and one who can guide you anywhere in Midgard and beyond.”
“It’s a fucking monster.”
The horse snorted at him, eyes seeming to flare red.
Loki nodded. “Yes. Legend says before the world was formed, there slept great primeval monsters of chaos. Their offspring became dragons and monsters. Before the mists, many had been driven into hiding or hunted to extinction. Long ago, great winged horses were common, and such a beast could have taken you anywhere. Now few, if any, remain. But Sleipnir is ancient and wise. Earn his trust, and he will earn yours.”
Earn the damned horse’s trust? Like a troll’s rocky arse. “And the horse will take me to the Norns?”
“They are keepers of the past, present, and future. Sleipnir has seen the secret places they dwell and can carry you there. But I urge you to use caution among them.”
Loki was a bit too full of his own mystery. “You speak like a vӧlva, man. Can you not just guide me yourself?”
“Trust me, brother. And trust Sleipnir.”
Odin sighed and shook his head. Truth was, he could afford to waste no time. Three moons sounded long enough to find a tribe or kingdom nigh to Aujum. But a foreign people, driven into hiding? And sorcerers. Human warriors Odin could best, monsters he could slay. But magic was a thing not meant for men.
Nor could he leave Ve for long. By Frey’s flaming sword, he would not lose his little brother. Odin’s mother was gone, and now his father. No more. There was no time.
“Tell the others where I have gone.”
The horse had no saddle, so he slung himself over bareback and tucked Gungnir in front of him. A hand on the horse’s mane to steady himself, he turned to Loki. “Tell them I will return soon.” Odin hesitated. “Brother. I need you to guard the last two apples well. Save them until I decide who most to trust.”
“I will.”
Odin tossed him the satchel.
This was madness, more like than not. But Odin needed answers. He could not save Ve without knowledge. He kicked his heels into the horse, and it bucked. Odin slipped from the sudden motion and spilled over the horse’s arse, landing behind. The deep snow cushioned his fall, leaving him dazed only a moment.
“Gods-damned beast!” he spat.
Loki shook his head and stood with hands behind his back, saying naught, but raising an eyebrow when Odin looked to him. Earn the horse’s trust. Stupid animal.
After brushing himself off, Odin moved to Sleipnir’s head and placed a hand along it. “Please.”
The horse neighed. Hopefully a good sign.
He leapt back on the horse again and pressed his knees together. “Take me to the Norns, Sleipnir. Please.”
The horse took off at a sudden trot, forcing Odin to lean low and clutch his mane. Sleipnir darted around trees and obstacles with no guidance from Odin. It was fast—much faster than a horse had any right to be. On and on it charged. Trees swept past in a blur.
His mount moved at unearthly speed.
Apt, as his quest was like to take him beyond the bounds of Midgard.
An hour’s travel, and Odin recognized an old ruin as they passed it. Impossible—that place was eighteen miles from the town. It should have taken nigh unto a day to reach it. Sleipnir charged onward, never slowing. The horse ran up the steep incline of a hill and leapt right off it, clearing the distance to an icy precipice ahead.
“Whoa! What in Njord’s name are you doing?” Odin yanked the horse to a stop. “I want to get there in one piece. If that means we get there a bit slower—”
A low growl rumbled through the hills, cutting him off. Odin turned to the side in time to see a snow bear rise up on its hind legs. He fell backward, trying to clear the bear’s claws, but they swept across his shoulder. The claws ripped through his furs, mail, and skin like stew. Sudden pain blurred his vision, and the force of the blow hurled him aside.
Sleipnir snorted, raising hooves to kick the snow bear. It backed away under the assault, then roared. Gods, he should have been more attentive. He crawled forward, pulling himself toward Gungnir where it had fallen, twenty feet away. He was never going to make it.
The bear roared again, moving in on him. Odin pulled himself to his feet, fighting the pain in his shoulder. He would die standing, a man of the Aesir. The animal reared up on its hind legs, bringing both paws down on Odin. Odin screamed back at it in defiance. Its forelegs fell on him like boulders.
And he caught them.
His feet dug into the snow as the impact drove him backward, but he held up the bear’s legs. His arms ached with the struggle of keeping the beast away. It snapped its jaws at him, snarling. Gods … He was holding up a bear. He was holding up a fucking bear! Odin roar
ed right back at the animal.
“I am Odin! God among men!”
For a brief instant, the beast recoiled, as if shocked a man was matching its strength. In response, rage and power boiled inside Odin.
Sleipnir reared up, kicking the bear in the back of the head. Dazed, it shook its maw. Odin dropped the bear’s legs, and it slumped down. Damned animal could have killed him. Odin punched it right in the nose. Bones crunched under the blow, and the bear whimpered. Odin roared at it again and landed a wild haymaker atop its skull. The impact stung his fist and actually cracked open the bear’s skull. It collapsed into the snow, blood oozing from its mouth.
Hel’s frozen tits. He’d just punched a bear to death.
His legs gave out from under him as his newfound strength seeped away and he fell to the snow. Sudden pain in his shoulder raged. His hands had gone numb. He’d probably cracked his own bones with that absurd stunt. He was losing blood from the gouges in his shoulder. Thanks to Sleipnir’s speed, he was far from Eskgard.
He had to get up. The horse nuzzled him, eliciting another grunt of pain. “Yeah. Thank you.”
Sleipnir was offering his head, wasn’t he? Odin grabbed on, and Sleipnir rose, pulling Odin to his feet. Then the horse knelt down in the snow, allowing Odin to mount more easily. First, he paused to retrieve Gungnir, then mounted.
He’d seriously underestimated his new friend. “Thank you,” he said again.
And would the apple stop him from bleeding to death? He supposed he would soon find out.
22
The ice spread out over the Gandvik Sea for a dozen feet or more. It created a shelf Tyr now walked on, with Annar. His journey back to Athra-held lands had felt different. Easier. A new strength rose in him, an endurance. As if the apple had reinforced his muscles.
Not only would he live forever, but be more than human. How was he supposed to feel about that?
In the distance, a whale breached.
Both men drew to a stop, watching.
“Whalers are too far out. They’ll be cursing themselves for missing that beauty. Would have fed us through the rest of winter.”