Gods of Fire and Thunder

by Fred Saberhagen

  Baldur raised a face transformed and wet with tears of joy. His voice rang out: "She lives, Hal! She lives!"

  "I rejoice to hear that," Hal said wearily, painfully getting to his feet. And truly he was relieved to see that the lovely face of the unconscious Valkyrie had the peaceful look of one who only slept, and that a faint blush of life showed in her cheeks. He hoped that that meant something more than skilled magical embalming. But he could not be sure the girl was breathing at all—if she was, the rise and fall of her breast beneath its light steel armor was too slight for Hal to see.

  Baldur was clutching one of the young woman's inert arms and pressing his face to her motionless hand. Now his body was again racked by sobs.

  Weary of all these demonstrations, Hal got slowly to his feet. "She's not dead," he reiterated in a dull voice, now feeling reasonably confident of the fact. Good news, he supposed—at least now Baldur ought not to absolutely break down—but another complication. Hal had the feeling that he was being battered by events, new things to worry about, first on one side then the other, the impacts coming too fast for a man to cope with them. Was he, after all, getting to be too old for this sort of thing? Shouldn't he already be standing behind a plow, staring at the rear ends of a couple of droms who were content to plod a field and never thought of flying?

  Well, maybe he should. Right now the prospect did not seem all that inviting.

  Baldur meanwhile had dropped his beloved's hand—her arm just fell limply to the ground—and was trying all sorts of things to wake her up, calling her by name, kissing her one moment and then in the next slapping her—though never very hard. But whatever he did, the young woman's eyes stayed shut, and she showed no sign of regaining consciousness.

  Something small, very small indeed and very white, in darting motion, caught Hal's eye and he looked up. Once again light snow was falling, and somehow the soft flakes were managing to escape melting in the air high above the guardian flames; they came drifting down unscathed, to melt only when they touch the enchanted earth within the circle, or more swiftly on the maid's armor.

  Alvit had come crawling through the tunnel to join the men. She remarked on the fact they were all standing between fires so large and so close to them that they should be roasted in a short time, yet none even felt uncomfortably warm. The others nodded agreement.

  Cautiously experimenting with one hand, Hal decided that the heat within the flames themselves had to be at least as great as that of any normal fire. He could move his own toughened skin to within a few inches of it without being actually burned, but no closer.

  "What use are all these speculations?" Alvit asked.

  Hal did not answer directly. "I have been watching the snowflakes. If they can fall this far, come down here in the midst of the flames, without melting . . ."

  "Ah, I see. Then it might be possible for a flying Horse to do the same? No, Hal, I tried that days ago. It was one of the first things I thought of, when I wanted to see Brunhild. But it will not work. Seen from above, Loki's magic makes this whole clifftop look like one solid mass of fire."

  After a pause, she admitted: "Clever of you to come up with the plan of going underneath, right through solid rock. I suppose it never occurred to Loki that anyone would try that."

  "Thank you. Maybe he just thought it would take them a very long time if they did."

  Hal watched several large flakes settle in the blond hair of the unconscious girl, and several more come down in Alvit's hair, almost exactly the same color as Brunhild's, where they persisted briefly before sparkling into droplets. Another met an even swifter doom, landing on the soft red fullness of Brunhild's upper lip.

  Baldur was not interested in snowflakes. He was groaning over his Valkyrie, alternately kissing her passionately, and pleading with her to awake. Again and again he had sworn that all he wanted was to hold her in his arms, but now that he could do that, he wanted more. Well, that was only to be expected. Hal still felt confident she was not dead, but she might as well have been, for all the sign she gave of waking up.

  As far as Hal was concerned, Brunhild could wait a little longer. He still believed that Loki must have had some greater purpose here, and was still fascinated by trying to discover what it was.

  Suppose that Loki—traditionally the master of fire, and of treachery as well—feared both Wodan and Thor. And suppose, with his knack for making enemies, he had come to be at odds with the powers of the Underworld as well—well, that would be a dangerous situation for even the greatest deity. Loki would have to depend entirely on his own powers, his own skill, for his survival. At least temporarily, until he was able to fashion new alliances. If Loki had wanted to create a defensive stronghold for himself, what better place than here, triply protected by his own wonderful fire?

  The gnomes had now followed their Sundwelling clients in through the tunnel, thin wiry bodies accommodating easily to its narrow curves. On emerging from the dark passage, Andvari and Ivaldr put on the goggles they had removed while actually in it, and with their eyes hidden behind opaque disks it was impossible for Hal to even guess what they might be thinking.

  Joining the Sundwellers, the gnomes sat down, establishing themselves solidly on the rocky ground as if determined to claim a well-earned rest. One of them helpfully suggested looking for a poisoned thorn, or something similar, embedded in the girl's flesh.

  Baldur seemed to be sliding into helplessness. "What should we do if there is one?"

  "Why, pull it out!"

  Alvit and Baldur began carefully removing more sections of the girl's armor, while Hal sat back, watching and thinking. Baldur's hands were shaking as he set aside, one after another, pieces of metal and cloth.

  Alvit seemed ready to take over the operation. "You might turn her over and examine her back."

  But there was no need to do that. In the end it was Alvit's keen vision that saw it first: a black dot, coarse but tiny, so small against Brunhild's fair skin, so like a tiny mole, that it might easily have passed unnoticed.

  She murmured: "This looks like it. It could be just the end of a thorn that's causing the trouble."

  Brushing Alvit's hand aside, Baldur took it upon himself to try to remove the thorn, if thorn it was, stuck so cruelly and outrageously into her tender flesh, near the side of her right breast. With shaking fingers he fumbled for a grip and finally found one.

  The thorn was amazingly thin, and horribly long, a couple of inches at least. Baldur cast it away with a shudder.

  The pinpoint wound where the thorn had been was marked now by a single drop of crimson blood. Almost at once, the recumbent girl drew a deep, shuddering breath and began to stir. Baldur kept pleading with her, clutching her in his arms.

  Brunhild's eyes when they opened were dazzlingly blue. She was at first completely bewildered and naturally frightened to find herself enclosed by walls of flame, which she did not remember seeing before. But her recovery proceeded with almost magical speed, and she greeted Alvit joyfully.

  Only then did she realize who held her in his arms. "What is this—Baldur? What are you doing here, where are we?" Her voice was thin and weak at first, but soon gained strength.

  Her lover was beside himself with joy at her recovery, and did his best to reassure her.

  A moment later Brunhild became aware that there were strangers present too. She modestly tried to recover her clothing and her armor. Dressing herself for action, she naturally wanted to know how much time had passed while she remained in her enchanted sleep.

  Baldur was horrified when she muttered something about having to prepare herself for combat. It occurred to Hal to discourage her by pointing out that she had no weapons available—and no use trying to borrow any, because probably the only weapon with which Hildy had any familiarity would be the magic Spear.

  She was naturally relieved to learn that only a matter of days had gone by since Wodan had sentenced and punished her.

  And Brunhild confirmed that she had earlier refu
sed to take Baldur to Valhalla because she wished to save him from an unpleasant fate.

  When she learned that he had been there, she was frightened and relieved at the same time. "Thank all the gods you have survived! I wanted to save you from Valhalla—I ought to have told you what it is really like—but I was afraid. And I knew you would never believe me."

  At last her gaze focused on Hal.

  "Who's this? One of your father's men?"

  Hal made a little gesture of salute. "I'm just a type of wandering savage, miss. No more Hagan's man than you are."

  At that Brunhild gave him a strange look; but Baldur hastened to vouch for his comrade.

  The gnomes had been resting, listening to Sundwellers' talk, for only a little while when they surprised Hal by getting to their feet again, showing signs of renewed energy.

  "I hope none of you will mind if we dig another tunnel?" Andvari asked the four Sundwellers, indicating with a gesture that he contemplated burrowing under the second ring of fire just as they had the first.

  Brunhild only shook her head, not understanding. Alvit seemed surprised, but too tired to take any real interest. Baldur, as if he thought he might have misunderstood the gnome, told him: "You have our eternal gratitude."

  Hal also shook his head, not particularly surprised. "No, no, go right ahead and dig. In fact I will be delighted, provided that you make a passage big enough for me to get through. Just a little wider than the last one, if you please. I'd like to see what's in there."

  The gnomes nodded silently, their eyes hidden behind goggles. In a minute they had chosen their starting place and work was under way, with fragments and rock dust flying as before.

  Baldur and his Valkyrie were clinging together as if they both feared to let go. She murmured dreamily: "Whatever happens now, we two will always be together."

  Obviously the young couple had no interest in further exploration, and were eagerly, deeply absorbed in planning their own futures. What were they going to do now, where were they going to go? There was evidence of serious disagreement, though so far nothing like a quarrel.

  Hal and Alvit both began to urge them to make up their minds quickly.

  Hal said: "If I were you, I'd argue about my destination after I was on the road. Head anywhere you like, as long as it's not toward the war."

  Baldur seemed too happy to bother to listen closely. "Some day maybe I will go to war again. Right now I do not see the need."

  Suddenly Alvit recalled the Horses. "We must make sure they are still safe. We'll need them to get out through the outer ring of fire, it wouldn't do to find ourselves trapped." And one after the other the four Sundwellers slid and scrambled back through the tunnel.

  When they had all rejoined the Horses in the outer corridor, Alvit again exhorted the couple to get going. Now, while the battle still raged, was the time to flee the wrath of Wodan. If the Father of Battles was strong enough and lucky enough to survive his current fight—and if he then remembered Brunhild at all—he would certainly try to inflict some extra punishment on her for her escape.

  Hal too urged the lovers to move on while they could, while the All-Highest was still distracted with battle.

  At last Baldur and Brunhild mounted, on a single Horse, their two bodies molded together and whispering in each others' ears. It was as if, now that they had found each other again, they feared to be out of sight or out of touch for even a moment. Baldur murmured that it would not be the first time the animal had carried them both swiftly.

  This time it was Baldur who, automatically assuming the role of leader, sat in front where he could grip the Horse's mane and exert control. And his beloved, Spearless now, no longer a Valkyrie, yielded the place of leadership to him without a murmur. So closely did she cling on behind her lover that it looked like he was sitting in her lap.

  At the last moment, Baldur turned his head and swore eternal loyalty to Hal, pledging his honor and his help if Hal should ever need them.

  "Thank you, I may need that pledge some day. Meanwhile, get the hell out of here." Hal urged the lovers on their way with a violent motion of his arm, ending with a hard swat on the Horse's rump. The couple and their mount vanished through flames, carrying Alvit's shouted blessing.

  Hal's blessing went with them too, silent but just as sincere, since he had first made sure that his gold remained behind.

  When Hal looked around again, Alvit was already astride her own mount. But she lingered long enough to tell Hal that she meant to accompany the young lovers on the first stage of their flight.

  "And there, your Horse is waiting for your departure." She pointed at the remaining beast.

  "I'm looking forward to my next ride," he assured her.

  Still Alvit delayed. "Where will you go?"

  "I'm not sure yet. What about you?"

  The Valkyrie pulled at her golden hair, which was dull and tangled now, evidently from want of care over the last few days. Her cheeks looked hollower than before. "I have already told you, Hal. I mean to return to Wodan, and fight beside him when the enemy draws near—so far I have been unable to do any real fighting."

  She reached out a hand to grasp her grounded Spear. "Until now the great powers on each side have only bombarded each other with their terrible weapons at long range. There has been little that ordinary humans like you and me could do. But that will change." The Valkyrie's voice sounded suddenly uncertain. And after a moment she added: "Whether the mode of fighting changes or does not change, whether my god lives or dies, I want to be with him at the end."

  Hal said: "I don't know about your sisters, as you call them. But I think you've already done all that the All-Highest could ask of you, and more. Loyalty should work both ways."

  Her face and voice were grim. "I have not been truly loyal. I broke my oath to Wodan, in setting you and Baldur free."

  Hal had to think that over. At last he said: "I would want all my friends, if I have any, to be as faithful to me as you are to your god. Friends mean more than oaths."

  The Valkyrie was shaking her head. "I was all ready to let you steal Wodan's gold—and now I think that was a mistake."

  "You only did that for his own good, you were trying to wake him up and save his life. If he was in his right mind, he'd thank you . . . of course he'd probably kill me."

  "I hope you are right, I mean that he would thank me. In any case, Hal, I am going to say goodbye to you again." There was something tender and regretful in her manner.

  He bowed slightly.

  Alvit started to move away, then turned back and said: "We are much alike, northman, you and I. Somewhere under all the differences."

  He thought it over, and nodded slowly. "For one thing, it seems that we are neither of us farmers."

  She frowned at that. "Farmers? Why should we be farmers?"

  He shrugged.

  "If I had time, I would ask you to explain."

  "I will explain, if you come back to me as soon as you have the chance. I think I'll be here for a while."

  Again Alvit was on the brink of leaving, when he added: "And there's another reason I'd like you to come back."

  "What?"

  "Just so I can see that you are still alive. And, now that I think of it, there's yet another reason after that: I like the way you say goodbye."

  "What?"

  Hal felt relaxed and confident, the heavy bulk of gold right under his hands in the saddlebags. He could feel it through the leather. Maybe it would never turn into farms and fishing boats, but it meant that he had won. He said: "I'd like to hear you say goodbye to me, oh, another hundred times at least."

  He thought that the request pleased her. "If I can, I can, I will." And with that, she was gone.

  Now he was all alone, as far as he knew, except for three rings of fire and two gnomes. He could hear the muffled sounds of their tireless digging, only a few yards away.

  And a single Horse, of course. But given the fear the gnomes had so far shown of heights and Horses, h
e wasn't worried about their making off with this one.

  * * *

  18

  With Alvit gone, Hal went back to the inner corridor and put his head down into the new tunnel to talk to the gnomes.

  "Have you finished digging?" he asked.

  "No, but we must rest again." From what Hal could see in the dimness, indeed the pair of Earthdwellers looked just about worn out. Andvari also seemed worried about something. "Hal, you will not leave us here, will you?"

  "No, why would I do that?"

  "I don't know. Of course you wouldn't. It's just that we would never be able to manage the Horse by ourselves. We would certainly perish in the attempt."

  "And the heights," his companion chimed in, from somewhere deeper in the tunnel's darkness. "I keep remembering how high we are above the valley. If the flames were gone, it would be a terrifying view."

  Hal generously agreed. If things here now went as well as he hoped they might, he would owe the little men more than he was ever likely to repay them. So he readily pledged that he would not leave without them, and that he would carry them gently to safety. He didn't expect the Horse would have any trouble carrying him and the two gnomes for a modest distance. It would be awkward but quite possible.

  The little men seemed reassured. Soon, after resting for only a couple of minutes, they went back to hammering and scooping away relentlessly at their new tunnel. Still they had offered no explanation of why they were doing it. Hal thought he knew the reason, and he was waiting to find out if he was right.

  Sitting down again in the inner corridor, he enjoyed a brief rest, looking around him at the curving walls of fire. The flames were always going up and up, and at the same time they were unchanging, like a magical reversed waterfall. With the gnomes on the job he thought he might actually succeed in probing the mysteries of Loki's stronghold and sanctuary.

  Now that the Earthdwellers were out of sight, working away like fanatics in their new tunnel, Hal seized the opportunity to test his fragment of the Golden Fleece in the inner corridor. What he saw confirmed his previous observations: the closer to the center of the concentric rings he brought the Fleece, the more dramatically it glowed and twitched. The talisman was even more active here than it had been in the outer corridor.