He thought there was no telling how Wodan was going to react on learning of the violence and death erupting in the mess, costing him at least his favorite berserker. Probably the Father of Battles had already been informed. Or even now someone might be bringing him the news. Of course, in the legendary version of Valhalla, beating a true Hero to death and cutting off his head should cause him no more than a little pain and inconvenience—nothing to lay him up for long. Combat in Wodan's realm, as it was so widely celebrated in song and story, was never more than playacting.
There was one more considerable difference between romance and reality. In the legends, no one ever thought of trying to escape from Valhalla. Well, at least this time Wodan would not be able to send out his favorite berserker to track down and dispose of the fugitives.
Which might mean that this time, the god would be conducting the chase in person. But maybe not. To Hal it seemed quite possible that Wodan would prefer the comfort of remaining in his private dream-world, would refuse to consider the fact that his best berserker was gone for good. Instead the All-Highest would probably be looking forward to tonight's feast, anticipating a good discussion between the winner and loser of last night's rousing fight. And even the absence of both principals in that contest might not matter much; if neither man appeared tonight, the All-Seeing would be perfectly capable of imagining they were there.
Wodan's general ineffectiveness, his wandering attention whenever there were decisions to be made, gave Hal strong reason to hope. Unless someone forcibly brought the fact to his attention, it might be a long time before the befuddled Lord of Valhalla realized that two of his magic steeds were missing from their stalls and faced the fact that two of his exalted band of Heroes had forsaken their eternal reward for the fun of stealing a couple of Horses and a few pounds of gold.
And even if Wodan was ready to confront the truth, he might not be capable of doing anything about it—if only Hal and Baldur could get far enough away.
Looking back over his shoulder again, Hal's heart sank when he beheld what looked like a swarm of giant insects on his trail, great wings churning the air in flight. So much for his hope that there would be no pursuit. The insects looked like nothing he had ever seen before. But at least it was not a chariot that now came speeding after him, gaining ground—or air—seemingly with every vibration of what looked like a hundred blurring wings, propelling scores of bodies in a cloud. He could hope that it was only wraiths that followed, and he rejoiced that he had managed to borrow one of the Valkyries' Spears.
Rapidly the vague cloud of semitransparent entities drew nearer, traveling at truly frightening speed. When a whirling vortex of spectral wingbeats swirled around Hal, he resisted the impulse to draw his axe, and put his borrowed weapon to good use—at each touch of its point, an image exploded into nothingness. Though the Spear was unfamiliar in his hands, it proved formidably efficient, and what had been a whole formation of the speeding wraiths soon dwindled to a scattered few that gave up the chase and turned aside.
Before he could relax, he realized he was being pursued by yet more apparitions, traveling every bit as quickly as the first.
As this second wave of pursuit drew nearer, he was soon able to identify a pair of huge unnatural Ravens, with ten-foot wingspans. These came hurtling at him from both sides at once, pecking and slashing with huge beaks, evidently intent on forcing him to land or knocking him off his Horse.
Again he thanked all helpful gods for the mighty Spear. A mere touch from that glittering point produced an almost soundless explosion, obliterating one bird and then the other in a cloud of raven feathers, fragile debris dispersed at once by the rushing winds of the high air.
Still, only a brief time had passed since the Horse first carried him aloft. The sun seemed to have advanced only a few of its own diameters above the eastern horizon, but Valhalla had fallen completely out of sight, and many miles of air had passed beneath their Horses' flying hooves. The mountains were distant, the valley of the Einar spread out beneath, and Baldur and Hal were drawing near their goal.
Despite Hal's efforts to catch up with his young companion, he had actually lost a little distance, and his shouts for Baldur to slow down a little had either gone unheard or were being ignored.
Studying the object of his pursuit, Hal noticed to his consternation that Baldur was now even slightly farther ahead of him, the young man's Horse still galloping through the air in the direction of the flaming clifftop, which was already noticeably nearer. After only an instant's hesitation, Hal urged his own mount in the same direction.
Of course Hal was looking forward to getting his hands once more on Cloudfoot's saddlebags, stuffed with gold; he thought he deserved that much compensation for long days of unjust imprisonment. But he had other goals in mind as well. Soon Loki's flames would be visible ahead.
Hal was also gripped by a vague, instinctive fear that Baldur, if left to his own devices, would be sure to make some horrible blunder that would result in their both being overtaken and punished by a vengeful god.
Every time Hal looked over his shoulder he was faintly encouraged, because he could see only a rolling, low, uneven sea of clouds and distant mountains. Let more wraiths come if they would, and he would fight them off with his beautiful Spear; there was still no sign of the one pursuer he truly dreaded, the airborne chariot, pulled by an eight-legged Horse and occupied by Wodan himself.
Then a time came when his head turned again to look and his heart sank, when his eye was caught by distant movement in the sky. There came in view some flying object much too big to be a bird, and looking too solid to be another wraith. Something, just faintly visible between himself and the site of vanished Valhalla, was cruising along briskly on an angled course. What gave Hal hope was that fortunately it was not following directly on his and Baldur's airy trail. The distance was so great that Hal could barely make the object out. But he could tell that it was moving very fast.
Unhappily, Hal soon felt completely certain that it was a solid object, not a wraith, and also that it was indeed a chariot. But he could still hope that the speeding conveyance was not Wodan's. For one thing, this vehicle was of a lighter color than the black Hal remembered.
Every time he looked back, the chariot was somewhat closer, though it was still, thank all the Fates, not in direct pursuit. Hal thought he could see now that there was only a single occupant. It was being pulled by something—what appeared to be a pair of somethings . . . not cameloids or droms . . . certainly not an eight-legged Horse.
Whatever the vehicle was, and however it was being propelled, its course kept diverging more and more from Hal's and Baldur's. But still it was a worrisome sight.
Baldur must have caught sight of the same disturbing presence, and only moments after Hal did. For now the young man suddenly changed course, urged the speeding Cloudfoot in a different direction, heading away from the circle of flames.
Then Hal noticed another possible reason for Baldur's change of course: a small squadron of Valkyries were flying on their Horses near Loki's flames, actually circling them like half a dozen or more huge and glorious silver moths. One or two others were sitting their magic mounts on the ground of the clifftop, very near Loki's great ongoing demonstration.
Possibly these young women would share Alvit's cooperative attitude, but Hal was not ready to bet on it. Unless mortal men were armed with something much better than their own mundane weapons, they could expect no success at all in fighting against Valkyries. Hal did have a Spear, but still the odds would be prohibitively heavy against him.
When Baldur's mount went diving lower, Hal kept close behind him. Uncertain of how to order his Horse into a descent, he tried pushing gently forward on the animal's long neck. To his great relief he found that that technique worked beautifully.
Down they went, racing through deep vaults of vapor, to burst out at last through the lower surface of a broken layer of clouds. Presently they were quickly skimming low in the val
ley, about a mile from the cliff of fire.
Baldur, with Hal now very close behind him, guided his mount to a landing on the near shore of the broad Einar, on a bank thickly forested enough to offer some hope of concealment.
A few moments later, Hal guided his own mount to a soft landing at the same spot. At the moment of his own landing, Hal shut his eyes again and gripped his Horse's mane, but Gold Mane managed the business as complete routine. The long-missing sound of hoofbeats came almost as a shock to the ear. He resisted an impulse to immediately leap from his Horse's back and kiss the ground.
Here it seemed to Hal that they ought to be pretty effectively screened by the canopy of some tall evergreens with overhanging branches, long and thick enough to offer effective shelter against aerial observation.
Both Horses were as unexcited by the adventure of flight as if it had been a mere canter through a mountain meadow. Nor did they seem at all exhausted by the terrific speed they had achieved while airborne. They were ready to take a good drink from the shallow eddies of the Einar, and to enjoy some of the long soft grass that grew on the adjoining shore.
Hal, watching Baldur keenly as he approached him, could detect no evidence that the youth suspected anything about the treasure in his saddlebags, or that he had been seriously trying to leave Hal behind. Instead, Baldur looked up almost calmly as the northman appeared at his side and began a congratulatory greeting. The young man's eyes widened only when he caught sight of the stolen Spear that Hal had grounded in the handy holder strapped on with his saddlebags.
"What are you doing with that?" The joyous expression faded from Baldur's face, and his voice was grave.
"Oh, this little thing?" Hal seized the shaft of the Spear and shook it. "Don't let it upset you. I just thought I might need something of the kind. It really seemed of considerable importance that we should get clean away, even if someone tried to stop us. And it came in handy when I met those ghosts and the Ravens."
"What are you talking about?" It soon turned out that Baldur, intent as he was upon his goal, was not even aware that they had been pursued. When Hal had explained about the wraiths and Ravens, Baldur stilll frowned at the long weapon Hal was carrying.
"Yes, but . . ." he objected. "Alvit won't like it, that you took a Spear."
"You think someone will misttake me for a Valkyrie? Don't know what the Heroes on the battlefield would do if they saw me coming to carry them away."
"I should think they might be inspired to go on fighting."
"Huh. Well, this sticker saved our lives, my lad. But still I'll give it back, next time I see her. I'll gladly give her more than that, we owe the girl a lot."
Half-expecting Alvit to come in sight at any moment—she had said she'd meet them—Hal looked up at the rude canopy of pine branches, through which the sky was visible only in spots and fragments. "I'd say you picked a reasonably good place to land."
"Yes, I thought we had better wait until those Valkyries got out of our way—I'm not sure if they saw us or not." Baldur made no mention of seeing a chariot in the air. Hal hesitated over whether to tell his partner about it or not, then quickly decided to abide by his general rule: in case of uncertainty, keep quiet.
But there was one point he had to raise. "By the way—I thought you were going to take this Horse. The one I'm riding."
Baldur was gracious. "Why, I thought to leave Gold Mane to you. Being more or less used to real humans, he would be less likely to throw off a total stranger. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"No. Oh no, nothing. I see. Thank you. I appreciate it."
In any case they had got away, were free, and no harm done. Now Hal felt free to turn his thoughts to getting at the gold. Looking at Baldur, Hal was sure that the youth had no idea what was hidden in his saddlebags. He could think of no convincing reason to suggest that they switch Horses, and tried to come up with some more subtle method of regaining his lost loot. Meanwhile, both men had dismounted and were crouching by the river to fill their water bottles. Then, sprawling belly down on a flat rock, they drank directly from the stream.
Whether Hal was ever really going to be a rich man or not, the water of freedom had a good taste; he sat up, wiping mouth and beard with the back of his hand. It was, in a way, tiring to have to think of gold again. But he was spared the effort. Before he could decide on the best way to raise the subject with his companion, a lone rider in a flying Chariot burst out of a low cloud, descending rapidly toward them.
* * *
14
The Horses had been quiet, but now they froze, heads turned in the same direction. Hal and Baldur, both on their feet again, stood beside their respective mounts, staring at the one who had just arrived.
The chariot in itself was almost ordinary in appearance, little more than a big cart—but it was pulled through the air by two animals that Hal could only have described as giant goats, the size of cameloids. It was the same strange object that Hal had earlier seen flying at a distance. No more ordinary was the single figure occupying the vehicle. Thank all the Fates, it was not Wodan. But it was certainly not the shape of a mere mortal human either.
"It is Thor." Baldur's whisper was almost as awe-stricken as if this were the first god he had ever seen.
And Hal had to admit the young man must be right. The Thunderer in his goat cart came casually coasting down, steering easily in under the canopy of trees, the wheels of his vehicle spinning just as if they worked against a solid road, instead of air.
The figure in the chariot was male and powerful-looking, to say the least. Red of hair and beard, and with ruddy cheeks that gave him a vaguely jovial look. His head was covered by a broad-brimmed hat, and he was otherwise dressed in sumptuous furs, similar to those that Wodan generally wore, but better cared for. Thor's arms, almost inhumanly thick with bone and muscle, were each encircled by metal bracelets, one gold, the other silver. The god was also wearing dark gloves that seemed to be made of iron, all joints and scales like the finest armor, for when he pulled one off and threw it down, it landed with a metallic thud.
Having brought his vehicle to a stop, Thor looked at Hal and Baldur without surprise, as if he had been more or less expecting to find this pair of mortal humans here. But his interest in them seemed to be only incidental.
Thor's voice was incongruously light and high. "I noticed you fellows galloping across the sky on Horses, but somehow you don't have the look of Valkryies. Is there serious trouble in Valhalla, or what? I'd go see for myself, but I might not be exactly welcome."
The two mortals looked at each other. Baldur's chin was trembling, as if he were trying to speak but found himself unable.
That was all right with Hal, who readily assumed the role of spokesman. "Wodan still occupies his throne, my lord," he grated out. "So I suppose it depends what you mean by serious."
Thor made a little dismissive gesture with one huge hand, as if to say the business was not worth worrying about. "Really none of my affair what goes on in Valhalla," he assured Hal. Then his voice took on a keener edge. "I don't suppose either of you've seen anything of that bastard Loki?"
"Not that we know of, sir," said Hal. And Baldur silently shook his head.
Thor sighed. Just like any ordinary man who had been riding too long in a cramped position, the god descended from his chariot, letting the reins fall carelessly to the ground, and demonstrated to the onlookers that he was not overly tall, at least not for a deity. As the god enjoyed a good stretch, Hal took note of the heavy Hammer, bigger than a blacksmith's sledge, that hung at his belt just as the hatchet rode on Hal's.
Myelnir. Hal stared at it, seeing no signs of awesome power. The handle seemed incongruously short, and he wasn't even sure that it was made of wood. Could the whole Hammer possibly be one piece of forged metal?
Oblivious to the scrutiny of two pairs of human eyes, Thor chose an ordinary riverside rock and sat down on it like an ordinary man. Hal did not really see him draw the heavy Hammer from his belt,
but suddenly Thor had the weapon in his hand, and was idly spinning it, head down like a top, on the stone surface.
In his impressive voice he said: "Loki in his capacity as fire-god can whip up a really toasty blaze. I don't suppose anybody here would know exactly why he set fire to that tall hill? Or where he's got to now? At this moment he's of more interest to me than Wodan is. Considerably more."
"No sir," said Hal. Almost in unison with him, Baldur pronounced the same two words. Then Hal added: "That fire's surely interesting, though."
Thor grunted a kind of agreement, and looked very thoughtful. "I've been over there a couple of times, and taken a look around."
Suddenly Hal realized the god was looking steadily at him. "I think you better put that down," said Thor quietly.
"What?" Hal asked, then felt his ears burn with the sound of his own stupidity. There was the borrowed Spear, its butt grounded in his Horse's harness, but the shaft actually still clutched in his right hand.
Thor hefted his short-handled Hammer ominously.
Hal with a flick of his wrist plucked the Spear from its rest, and hastily cast it down at his side. Distantly his mind registered the fact that he did not hear the weapon hit the ground. A moment later he noticed that it had somehow come to be part of the equipment aboard Thor's chariot.
Meanwhile Myelnir had gone back to rest at Thor's belt. The god continued to regard the two men steadily. "Well? Either of you got anything else to say?"
Baldur seemed to be gradually giving way under the strain of the divine presence. Now he was hanging on to his Horse's mane as he stood beside the animal, as if without support he might faint and tumble over.
Hal was hardly at ease, but neither was he about to collapse. He cleared his throat. "Tell me, Lord Thor," he invited, "what the general subject of conversation is to be?"
Gods of Fire and Thunder Page 17