Gods of Fire and Thunder

by Fred Saberhagen

  The northman knew roughly what powers the Face of Loki would bring the human being who wore it. But he was not in the least inclined to put it on.

  Instead, he tucked it into his belt pouch, where he imagined he could feel it burning against his belly. Faintly smiling, he took an inventory of the digging tools the gnomes had left scattered about in here—he thought the whole of their equipment was pretty well accounted for.

  Then Hal put his head down into the tunnel and called sharply for Andvari and Ivaldr to come through to him. He was reluctant to go out to them, lest they assume he had found the gold, and be tempted to murder him while he in the vulnerable position of emerging from the narrow passage.

  After a pause, Andvari's voice came back, politely asking Hal to first pass their digging tools out to them.

  He made his own voice neutral, sending it back through the ten-foot tube. "I think you had better come in here and get them. We have some matters to talk over. And as soon as you have tools available, I wish you'd make this tunnel a little wider."

  When Andvari and his comrade reentered the innermost chamber of Loki's stronghold, they found Hal sitting casually right beside the pile of gold.

  For a long moment no one spoke. Then Ivaldr said in a weary voice: "So you have found it."

  Hal was letting one big hand rest almost carelessly on the glowing pile. "I suppose this was just lying on the surface in here, and you somehow caught a glimpse of it when you looked in through the second ring of fire? No wonder you just had to dig the second tunnel." He grabbed up a few coins, and let them trickle through his fingers.

  Ivaldr started to react angrily to Hal's fingering of the hoard, but then subsided into gloomy silence.

  "Well?" Hal prompted.

  The two little men exchanged an exhausted look, then nodded in agreement. Andvari said: "Yes, looking through the flames with our goggles we could see it from out in the second corridor. And when we came up through the floor here, it was spread out on the ground at the feet of the skeleton—this second prisoner."

  "As if," the other gnome put in, "the prisoner had been gloating over it before she—or he—died. Much good did it do him, or her."

  Hal was curious. "Did it ever occur to you to wonder who this second prisoner was?"

  Clearly it had not. The pile of gold was what Ivaldr and Andvari cared about. And now that they had handled it, and buried it with great expense of energy and effort, they were probably ready to kill to keep it.

  Standing, Andvari drew himself up to his full height, a little over four feet. "The treasure is ours, you see. And now that we have found it, we are not going to let it go." His voice quavered slightly as he confronted the giant warrior before him with this declaration.

  "I do not dispute that it is yours," said Hal, mildly. He still sat relaxed. "Others may, but that will be your problem."

  They only blinked at him distrustfully. Here in the strange dimness they had taken their goggles off again.

  Now in a rush of candor Andvari confessed that he and his comrade had thought of fighting Hal for the gold, but decided against that course. It would be much better if they could trust each other.

  "You have been our friend, and saved our lives. And we are miners and metalworkers, not hardened fighting men."

  Ivaldr gloomily chimed in: "Also, if we fought, you would probably kill us both in no time."

  Hal nodded judiciously. "There is that."

  "Besides that, we will need your help. We must all remember," Andvari pointed out, "that we Earthdwellers are unable to manage Horses by ourselves, and without your help we would certainly kill ourselves in a fall from this high place, even if we managed to get out through the outer ring of fire . . . you don't even ask for a share?"

  "Would it make you feel better to give me one? You'd be getting no gold at all if I hadn't brought you here."

  The two little men looked at each other. "We will have to talk about that," Andvari said.

  Ivaldr nodded. "Discuss it with our elders."

  Hal had about decided that he didn't really want a share, but still their attitude annoyed him.

  The two gnomes, saying they wanted to talk the matter of sharing over between themselves, gathered up their tools, left Hal in the central chamber and went out again through the newest tunnel.

  If he hadn't been dead certain of their inability to ride the Horse without him, he would have followed closely. As matters actually stood, of course—

  Now in through the tunnel—through two tunnels, actually—there came the abrupt sound of hoofbeats, golden shoes on hard rock, followed by terse scrambled dialogue in gnomish voices—followed by sudden and utter silence. Hal jumped to his feet. As clearly as if he could see them, he heard the gnomes somehow scrambling together aboard the one remaining Horse, and riding outward through the fiery curtain.

  They were already gone, successfully making their escape. And, whether they knew it or not, they had his pitiful small trove of golden horseshoes with them. He had been utterly wrong about the Earthdwellers and their supposed dread of Horses. The little bastards had tricked him, and now the disaster he had feared had struck.

  The strangest thing was that he hardly felt the impact of the loss. Somehow having the Face in his possession had driven all real worries about mere gold out of his mind.

  He said aloud: "Well, if they have my treasure now, I still have theirs. Until they get back with their army to collect it. And that will take a while." Hal looked from the huge pile of gold back to the skeleton, and it grinned back at him. "Didn't do you much good, did it?"

  The skeleton made no reply.

  "Yes, I have theirs. Along with something even better."

  Hal listened, for a sound coming from outside the flames, he wasn't sure exactly what. He thought he could hear several kinds of noise. Whatever he heard, he made no move, but only waited.

  * * *

  19

  Several minutes had passed, but Hal was still standing there in almost the same position, except that he had taken the Face of Loki from his pouch, and was once more holding it in his hands, when Alvit came writhing through the second tunnel to confront him.

  Her blond head popped into view, and she regarded him without surprise. "There you are, Hal. Did you know the gnomes had gone? As I approached I saw them in flight, both of them with their sun-goggles on, clinging desperately to the back of one Horse. The same Horse I left here for you."

  Hal let out a great sigh, as if he had been unconsciously holding in his breath. "I realized that they were gone," he said.

  "I suppose," Alvit replied after a pause, "that somehow gold is once more at the root of the trouble?" Pulling herself up out of the hole, she stood with hands on hips and glared at him. She was just a little taller.

  Hal nodded.

  "Where is the gold this time, northman?"

  Forcing his hands to move slowly and casually, Hal opened his belt pouch and put away the essence of the great god, so that Loki nestled right beside the Golden Fleece. At the same time he watched the young woman carefully, trying to judge by her reaction whether she recognized the object he had just concealed, or whether she had even bothered to look it at all.

  Alvit was staring at him, but her thoughts were obviously not on Faces at the moment. "So, do you wish to discuss the situation? The gnomes have ridden away on your Horse, and left you trapped in here. And I once thought you might be leadership material. Or were you counting on using their tools to dig your own way out, under the outer ring?"

  "No—I mean, I didn't know they were going to take the Horse, but I'm not absolutely trapped."

  "You're not? Just how would you propose to get out through the outer ring of fire, lacking a Horse?"

  "I'm all right, Alvit. Don't worry about me—not just now. What about you? By the way, I'm very glad you accepted my invitation and came back."

  She sighed. "I seem to do a lot of riding to and fro."

  "What's going on with Wodan?"

 
"I think he is happy that his great battle has begun, but he is not well." She went on to report that, since leaving Hal only a little while ago, she had been with Wodan on his not-so-distant battlefield. Her chief reason for returning to the high crag now was that Wodan had dispatched her and all the other available Valkyries to search everywhere they could for Thor.

  "And you thought Thor might be here?"

  "He was not far from here when last I saw him. You remember when that was."

  "What happens when you've found him?"

  "We are to appeal to the Thunderer's honor, and to his better nature, for aid against the monsters of the Underworld."

  "So Wodan is actually appealing for help? I didn't know he could."

  "Of course the All-Highest would not put the matter in those words, he is far too proud—but yes, he needs help and is asking for it. Unlike some men, who can be effectively trapped and need a Horse, but refuse even to admit the fact."

  Hal grinned. "I admit that a Horse is likely to be of substantial help to me in getting away from here, when the time comes."

  "In that case you may use mine—if I am here when the time comes." Then she dug something from a belt pouch. "Here—I wouldn't want to see you waste away." She handed over another small package of food.

  Hal murmured thanks and opened the package. Looking at the food, he remembered his last meal, a nibble of gnomes' roots, and realized that he was hungry.

  Alvit's gaze had now moved past him to probe curiously at the modest mound. From the way her face altered, he could tell the precise moment when she recognized that it was largely made of bones.

  Her voice took on an edge. "Who's this? Another prisoner? A couple of other Valkyries are unaccounted for."

  Brushing crumbs from his fingers, Hal moved that way a step or two, so he was once more standing close beside the remains. "The gnomes, too, thought this was another of Wodan's prisoners. But he wasn't."

  "He? It is a man, then? Who?"

  When Hal didn't answer immediately, Alvit turned, looking all round the inner chamber. Her gaze fell on the golden hoard, and the question of the bones was momentarily driven from her mind. For the space of two or three breaths she remained frozen in silent astonishment. Then in a hushed voice she said: "I see now why you could be so casual about losing a few horseshoes."

  "There seems to be a curse of some kind on me. I'm never going to be rich."

  She moved a little closer to the yellow pile. "Surely you will try to take a part of this, at least?"

  "It seems the gnomes are determined to have it all. Actually, I've been thinking about another problem."

  From the corner of his eye he saw Alvit's pale face turn to look at him. But when he turned to see her expression, her handsome face was unreadable.

  Now Alvit was looking from bones to gold and back again, as if an idea had struck, and maybe the truth was beginning to dawn on her. At last she asked again, in a more demanding voice: "Who is this, then?"

  Hal gave the skeleton a brief glance. "Not much of anyone right now. But I'd be willing to bet that whole pile of gold that this was the last avatar of Loki."

  "This?" And for a moment she drew away, as if in awe, or perhaps fear of some contamination.

  "Sure. Gods die, or at least their avatars do."

  It took only a second for Alvit to come up with the next thought. Then she was suddenly down on her knees beside the body of a man who had been a god, digging and scraping with eager fingers at the rocky soil around the broken skull. She looked up to see Hal shaking his head.

  He told her: "I've looked for the Face too. That was the first thing I did when I discovered him." Now Hal had clasped his hands behind his back, keeping them well away from his belt pouch. If Alvit even suspected where the Face was now, he knew she would try anything, including physical attack, to get it from him, without stopping to heed warnings or explanations. She was desperate to help Wodan, and she would want to stuff the damned thing into her own head at once, turn herself into Loki and go dashing off to save the life of the god she loved.

  The Valkyrie was on her feet again. "Hal, if one of us could become a god, we could immediately tip the battle in Wodan's favor. Hal, I beg you, if you have any idea where—" Then abruptly her shoulders slumped. "But no, if you knew where the Face was you'd already be going after it. And if you'd picked it up you'd have become Loki by now."

  Hal gave her a wry smile, a slight shake of his head. "You know me pretty well," he said. Then he changed the subject, nodding toward the body. "I have a good idea what killed him. Beyond that it becomes harder and harder to be certain about anything."

  Alvit looked at him sharply. "What killed him, then?"

  "Understand, there are not many weapons, in this world or the Underworld, that can destroy a god so thoroughly. Not a god as great as Loki. I believe Thor threw his Hammer at him."

  It might well have happened, Hal supposed, even without Thor knowing for certain where his rival had concealed himself. Probably the Thunderer needed only to murmur his victim's name to Myelnir, and let it fly; overpowering magic would do the rest. Thor might have believed that Loki was here, but assumptions regarding the behavior of a Trickster could only be tentative.

  Again Alvit considered the ruined skeleton. "That may well be. But Loki's Face is not here, which means someone must have picked it up. Who? Did Thor actually come here, inside the flames? Or did he just throw Myelnir from outside?"

  "I believe Thor cast his weapon from outside, and I don't think he came in to pick up Loki's Face. Maybe someone took it who—who was in no hurry to be a god."

  Alvit was puzzled. "I don't understand. Do you know anyone who would not want to be a god?"

  Hal drew a deep breath. "I have met the enchantress Circe, who is one example; remind me to tell you more about her sometime. And I myself, like Circe, have seen divinity at first hand, more than once. And never in the countenance of any god have I seen great happiness."

  "Are you turning into a philosopher in your old age, northman?"

  Hal grimaced. "I hope not. Leaving matters of philosophy aside, I can think of a very practical reason not to be Loki at the moment."

  Alvit was not going to be distracted. She shook her head.

  "I am forgetting my duty. Whatever happened here, Loki is not available. Where is Thor now? I tell you, Wodan is in desperate need of strong allies."

  Hal was looking at her intently, trying to find the right way to explain certain things that had to be explained. He said: "I am practically certain that Thor is dead, too."

  She stared at him. "Why are you certain?"

  "Because I have seen his Hammer." Just at this crucial moment, he was distracted by noticing how—how pretty, that was the only word for it—Alvit looked, when her mouth came open in astonishment. He went on: "In fact I've seen it twice. The first time was when Thor's last avatar was still alive and it was hanging on his belt. You've seen Myelnir too, not long ago, though I believe I've had the closer look."

  Alvit was now regarding Hal with something like awe. She murmured: "I've never seen the Hammer of Thor, save at a distance, when it was in his hand. That was days ago."

  "You are wrong. We've both of us seen it within the past few hours." Hal put out a stubby finger to draw a circle in the air. "It's whirling in a kind of orbit round this crag. You're the one who pointed out the mysterious flying spark."

  "That—is Myelnir!" Alvit breathed.

  He nodded. "First I suspected, then I made sure. I rode my Horse close to the glowing circle, close enough to get a good look as it flew by. It was Myelnir, all right, but Thor was nowhere near."

  Privately, Hal was wondering how effective Thor's Hammer would be in the hands of a mere mortal, supposing he could get his hands on it. He might try to ride his Horse near it again, as it whirled in midair, and try to grab it as it went spinning by.

  He might attempt that kind of stunt if he were forced to it, but he was afraid of what the result might be. He didn't want
to suggest it to Alvit.

  Myelnir's physical dimensions were quite modest, but some of the stories suggested that just lifting it might be more than an ordinary man could do. In the hands of a mortal, assuming he could wield it at all, Hal thought it would still crush other weapons, and kill adversaries. But he doubted that any mortal—Hercules was always an exception in these matters—could throw it effectively; and if he did, once thrown it would not come flying back in perfect obedience to his hand.

  Alvit was silent, trying to digest his revelation.

  Hal went on: "Some time back, when Baldur and I were lying exhausted in one of these corridors, a strange noise woke me up. I think now that what I heard was the sound of Myelnir coming in through all the firewalls, killing Loki in his hiding place, then flying out again.

  "Myelnir did its work on Loki. But then for once it failed to dart right back to its master's hand. I can imagine only one reason for that—because Thor himself had been slain, in whatever little time there was between his hurling the Hammer and its striking home. Loki and Thor must have died at almost the same instant."

  Alvit interrupted. "But then, who killed Thor?" In a moment she had answered her own question. "Of course, it must have been one of those mighty Giants or demons of the Underworld. They have their own means of long-range killing, just as the gods do."

  "I expect you're right."

  Now Hal, though he could not have said what he was looking for, studied the corpse more closely than before. "What puzzles me is why would Loki, why would any god, want to hoard gold?" Why would a god, with practically all the riches of the earth lying open and vulnerable to his plundering, fight and struggle to maintain possession of a mere yellow mass of metal? One reason Hal could think of was that Loki might have done it just for fun—for the same reason he, Hal, had been so intent on penetrating all the rings of fire. Otherwise, he could only think that the god was Loki, and Loki's knack for troublemaking was as great as his skill in making fire—that must have had something to do with it.