Gods of Fire and Thunder

by Fred Saberhagen

  "No, the battle cannot be over! The fighting must go on. The world is going to end. The world must end!" Then he stumbled and would have fallen, but for Thor's supporting arm.

  Wodan would have it that the world must end; therefore the battle could not be over yet. Therefore he must order all his remaining forces, human and otherwise, into a suicidal charge.

  "If the enemy has retreated, we must pursue!"

  Hal tried arguing. "But the enemy has retreated to the lower regions."

  "Then we must follow them! We'll invade the Underworld! Drive our own humans forward, Thor! Help me. Help me to my Chariot . . ."

  "Maybe when our troops are rested—"

  "Damned traitors! I'll give them no rest." Wodan was going to insist on rooting out and punishing the traitors in his own ranks, those who were trying to subvert the Fate of the world for their own mere cowardly survival. Faithless Valkyries! Worthless human trash! Were it not for them, the whole world could have been brought to its proper climax in destruction!

  Gradually Hal was coming to the realization that once more Thanatos, god of Death, had failed to claim the god of battles. Hal/Thor knew a sinking feeling. Wodan was not really dying. If he went forward with his mad plan to invade the Underworld, death would probably claim him soon—but maybe not soon enough.

  It seemed to Hal that he and Thor now thought as one, with no hint of conflict in their joint awareness.

  His god-voice went out smoothly. "Of course, All-Highest. Depend on me to give you the help you really need. See, there, for instance." And he pointed. When the other's head turned, Hal with his right hand slid Myelnir from his belt. The force of the blow was precisely calibrated, getting the job done without causing inconvenient noise or mess. Myelnir was quite capable of fine precision work when such was called for. Nothing to disturb the tranquility of the mindless screen of wraiths surrounding the two gods; all of them were still staring, with great apparent interest, into some distant nothingness.

  A moment later, Hal was holding the Face of Wodan in his land, and a moment after that, he had stuffed it into the new belt pouch that Thor had already requisitioned from his powers.

  With any luck at all, some considerable time would pass before the retreating enemy discovered that the Father of Battles was dead.

  Now, for the third time in only a few hours, Hal had the disposal of divinity.

  He shuddered inwardly to think what might happen if the powers of the Underworld should get control of the trinket he had just tucked into concealment. What would they do with it? No demon could wear a god's Face, at least Hal did not think so. No doubt they would hand it to some mortal human maniac, or truly malignant warlord. Or one of Hagan's surviving bandits. However they might dispose of the great power, it was a frightening prospect.

  No. To allow that would seem to be against a northman's honor. Once again Hal could feel himself being forced to a particular choice.

  Parting with a gesture the close ranks of the encircling wraiths, Hal thrust his head and shoulders out between them. A multitude of eyes were turned his way.

  "Wodan and I are in conference," he announced. He had already decided that a general proclamation of the All-Highest's death had better wait, until with his next breath he could name the new avatar.

  Hal's gaze went skimming along the ranks of waiting humans, pausing briefly on Sergeant Nosam. The sergeant had lived with a god so long that he might be expected to know what a good god would be like. But Alvit had been right about him—he was too small.

  Moving on, Hal's speculative eye fell next on Alvit herself—but a different future awaited her, if Hal had anything to say about it. Now he called her to him with a slight gesture, and sent her to find the boys from Baldur's household.

  A minute later, Holah and Noden stood before him, two boys not knowing whether to be terrified or overcome with honor.

  "Lads, I am about to charge you with an extremely important mission."

  Eyes wide, and rendered almost speechless by such words from Thor himself, the boys waited to hear what commission they were about to receive.

  Hal/Thor said: "I am loaning you my Chariot, and you are to ride it in search of your uncle Baldur. Then you—"

  "He is really our cousin," one lad murmured, as if afraid degree of kinship might make some fatally important difference.

  "Whatever he is, wherever he is, you are to find him and bring him back here to me." Hal paused for thought, then added: "If there should be a lady with him who wishes to come along—well, let her."

  Seeing the beginnings of great fear in the young eyes before him, fear of their own inadequacy, he hastened to add: "Boys, I am sending help with you, in the form of invisible powers. Magic enough to make sure that you find the man I want."

  "Are we to—to give him any reason, sir?"

  "Yes. Tell him that Haraldur the northman appeals to his honor, and needs his help. The god Thor has a task for him, a vitally important mission, that none but Baldur can accomplish."

  While Hal was speaking, Alvit had approached and looked anxiously into his face, then moved to slide past him into the enclosure of wraiths. He had let her pass.

  Now she emerged again, and Hal could see that she was fighting back tears. In a low voice she asked: "And what will Baldur's mission be?"

  "Wodan is asking for him," Hal told her. He could see in the woman's face that she had discovered Wodan's death, but did not realize how it had come about. Perhaps sometime he would tell her. Now he only drew her a little aside, so no one else could hear, and added: "I want him to rebuild Valhalla, and to rule there."

  "Baldur?" There was grief in Alvit's voice for what she had just seen, but relief as well. "Is it wise to make a god of Hagan's son?"

  "Maybe not. But can you name me a wiser choice?"

  Hal could see that the Valkyrie was thinking, and he waited but she said nothing. Now it looked like Hagan's son would become the very god that Hagan had so desperately hated. Hal thought that ironic; Thor found it quite amusing.

  Alvit plainly stood in need of some kind of help. Hal reached out an arm and pulled the tall young woman gently to him, so that when she slumped a little, her head rested on his shoulder. She seemed content to be there.

  After a little while Hal said: "Maybe neither I nor the god in me has any true wisdom. If I did, I'd probably be a farmer. But I want to see how Baldur handles his new job."

  Hal was curious.

  And so was Thor.