Norns of Fate: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (Descendants of Thor Trilogy Book Two)

by S. A. Ashdown

  Every single face marked with the Black Widow’s sign was sucked up into the churning limbs and dragged back into the sea.

  ‘No!’ the Valkyries roared. ‘We must finish our weaving! It is the only way we can win the Final War!’

  ‘Not if you take me to Odin!’ I called to the Valkyries. ‘The Gatekeeper hasn’t abandoned Yggdrasil yet!’

  The sky-warriors slowed their flight, flocking together, singing in a primordial language of fire and wind. Their leader dived down toward me. ‘Odin’s teeth,’ she said, addressing the wolves, ‘stop gnashing!’ She faced me. ‘You wish to speak to the Lady?’

  The pain eased and I floated to my feet. ‘Freyja?’

  ‘You must call.’

  So that’s what I did. I pleaded for her to part the clouds and retrieve the last hope for saving Yggdrasil, and everyone in it I loved.

  And after an eternity of small moments, she came.

  The Lady arrived in a cloak of falcon feathers and a dress of mail, riding a golden chariot, pulled by two wild, horn-toothed panthers. Many hands gathered and bore me into the sky, where she was waiting, her graceful arm outstretched.

  I grabbed her hand and took hold of her slender waist as she attuned the reins. The battlefield fell away, the vision of Midgard disappearing into mist.

  The Halls of the Gods awaited.

  Freyja’s chariot sailed into the open Hall, its glittering arched roof like the ribbed carcass of an infinite ship upturned, carried on the shoulders of statues the height of cathedrals. We landed upon a mosaicked floor, coated in resin. ‘Sap from Yggdrasil,’ Freyja said, the first words she had spoken to me. ‘Come, the All Father must speak with you, Gatekeeper.’

  Thousands crowded the Hall, but they parted for the Lady of the Slain. The path to Odin’s towering throne – flanked by enormous ravens – sparked lightning underfoot. If ever I had doubted my religion, it wasn’t then.

  Freyja knelt on one knee and bowed.

  I stared, stupefied, at the figure looming above us. Odin – the All Father – hair yellow and blinding as the sun, His right eye a galaxy of stars and the left shut away behind a sealed eyelid, was looking right at me.

  ‘Show your respect, you fool,’ Freyja said.

  I dropped to my knees and pushed my forehead against the floor.

  Odin laughed and stamped his foot, the vibrations tossing the thousand-strong gathering into the air. ‘Lady Freyja, this is Thor’s spawn! When have any of his insolent lineage known their place?’

  ‘Great Father, this is no time for laughter.’ Freyja’s grave voice matched her stormy countenance, but she recovered her balance quickly, standing tall.

  Up to about Odin’s toe.

  ‘Gatekeeper. You have no son. You should not be here. But I am not surprised. Your father made a great sacrifice to force the Valkyries not to punish you for your truce with Hel.’

  ‘What?’ I stammered. ‘My father?’

  ‘Has joined the armies of Valhalla. He will make a great general. Now, what are we to do with you?’

  Father. The fight with Loki flooded back. Yes, I had been seconds away from slaughter. Then Father killed me. I heard and felt nothing, not even the celestial wind dancing overhead. What had he done to undo his actions?

  No, he cannot be dead.

  ‘Gatekeeper? Hmmm.’ That booming voice. ‘Grief requires the luxury of time.’

  Freyja wrapped her falcon cloak around my shoulders. ‘Theo,’ she whispered, ‘time moves differently here. We have enough for a goodbye. Come child, mourn, and then save the Nine Realms.’ She craned her neck, calling to Odin. ‘Great Father, I will take Thor’s son to Sif. She has the means to deal with Hel and Loki.’

  The Hall tremored as Odin stretched on his throne. ‘Very well. Make it quick. I’d like to solve this conundrum before supper.’

  Freyja whisked us back through the crowd. ‘He is old,’ she whispered, as if that explained everything. Odin laughed again as we climbed the chariot and glided into the endless expanse.

  47

  Goodbye

  The lush hills smelt like warm rain, the sun heating the earth from everywhere at once as it diffused over the glassy horizon. Ships lost to ancient lore crammed the harbor, and Freyja’s chariot skimmed the tops of their masts.

  The beauty tried to touch my heart, but it was found wanting. I could only think of Father and my coldness to him in recent weeks. No matter how deserved, it just seemed childish now. This swath of idyllic heaven depended as much on my return to Midgard as Earth did – I had to leave it.

  ‘Over there,’ Freyja said, her panthers gliding up the incline. Trees the size of sequoias, leaves red-gold, ringed a structure spread lazily over the crest of the tallest hill. In some ways, it reminded me of Hellingstead Hall.

  The memories of Mother and Father, my childhood roaming the grounds with Ava, dug a further pit for grief to sink into. ‘What is that place?’ I asked.

  ‘Bilskirnir,’ Freyja said, ‘Thor’s residence. It has over five hundred rooms, although no one can seem to finish counting them.’

  ‘So it’s infinite,’ I said.

  ‘No,’ and her laughter mingled with the wind. ‘It’s just that everyone who tries is always drunk. Your ancestors are fond of ambrosia.’

  ‘Huh.’

  Like Odin’s Hall, Bilskirmir had a great granite balcony on which to land the chariot. ‘That one is Thor’s,’ Freyja said, pointing to the chariot that looked more like a sleigh the size of a bus, with goats instead of reindeer.

  Two willowy men – with pointed ears and long swords – escorted us through the maze of hallways and open-roofed rooms, until an immense, carved double door opened, our escorts stepping behind us as we entered the Hall.

  I immediately spotted Thor, saluting his guests with a frothing jug of amber liquid around a table a good fifty metres long. I knew it was him because he looked like my twin, only twice my size and sporting a neat, scarlet beard.

  ‘Ah, Gatekeeper!’ he called, over the heads of the feasting party. ‘Here so soon? We’re still welcoming our brother Espen!’

  That’s when I saw them. Mum and Father, arm in arm, sitting at the table’s centre. Red robe, green cloak, rising to their feet, running across the tiled floor, shouting, crying, touching my face and hair. ‘Please tell me I did not die in vain!’ Father said, looking no more than thirty despite his tears.

  ‘Father, I thought Odin was lying, or wrong, or… Mum. I missed you.’ I returned her embrace. Her clothes still carried the scent of lavender. ‘What did you do, Father?’

  ‘Ægir required a sacrifice. It was the only thing I could think of to ensure the Valkyries would pay attention to you – they’re single-minded about justice.’

  ‘You’re not coming back?’ I said weakly. The feasters. The hall. I felt out of phase with the scene. ‘I’m not feeling so good,’ I said.

  ‘We’re running out of time,’ Mum said, but it sounded distant.

  I stared at my hand. It seemed as solid as my real hand. ‘It’s covered in blood,’ I whispered, and suddenly I felt the chill of the battlefield. ‘I’m cold.’ The vision disappeared.

  Thor bounded over to us, a slender beauty on his arm with hair the colour of wheat ripe for harvest. She hugged Freyja.

  ‘Sif, Hel has played the same trick on the Gatekeeper as Loki once tried to play on you.’

  Sif – Thor’s wife – skimmed my cheek with her bird-like hand. ‘So similar to my dear husband. Child, Hel has taken your hair?’

  I nodded. ‘She’s mad,’ I said, ‘or evil, I cannot decide which witch is which.’

  Thor bellowed, knocking back the ambrosia in his horn-shaped tankard before passing it to me. ‘Drink this, grandchild – how many greats is it? – it will revive your Essence.’

  Sif smiled at her husband. ‘Don’t try to count generations, dear. It only makes you feel old.’

  I sipped the frothy, amber liquid. Fireworks exploded on my tongue, seeping into my soul. ‘Wo
w, no wonder you’re all drinking this stuff.’

  ‘That will fuel the amulet for a little longer,’ said Freyja, ‘but once it burns through your Essence, the Gatekeeper won’t be able to return to your body. Unfortunately, the Gatekeeper cannot use the Lífkelda to resurrect its Vessel.’

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘I vote for not being burned into cinders.’

  ‘Thor,’ said Sif. ‘Get the scissors.’

  A hush fell over the party. Freyja stood resolute, but everyone else seemed struck dumb by shock – or horror. ‘But the All-Father forbids it! Only the Norns—’

  ‘If this young man dies, there will be no Norns, no All-Father, and no more feasting!’ Thor reacted most to that last part, and snatched back his drinking horn, holding it close to his chest.

  ‘I’ll fetch them immediately,’ he said. The floor shook as he bounded away.

  While we waited for his return, I was passed between Mum and Father like a babe in arms, and I struggled to hide the regret behind a false smile. Surely, I could bring them back with me? Father described how he’d called upon the sea-gods, where he had met his end. ‘It felt right to die where your mother left us,’ he said, as if it had been the only logical outcome.

  ‘Menelaus…’ I said, unable to even reply to his statement. ‘You must tell Elspeth; Hel has got him.’

  Thor returned, his huge chest heaving. ‘Why is it that when you need a magical pair of scissors, they’re in room four hundred and ninety-nine?’

  Sif rolled her eyes and plucked them from his brawny hands. ‘It’s the last place anyone would look.’

  ‘Be warned, Gatekeeper,’ Sif said, holding the scissors to her scalp. ‘When Loki sees my hair mingled with yours, he shall be enraged. He has tried to steal it many times and has always failed. He will stop at nothing to take it from you.’

  Thor winced as she chopped off her waist-length, golden hair. He took the scissors as she raised the silken strands over mine, chanting under her breath. ‘What are you saying?’ I asked.

  ‘It is a secret, Grandson. Now my hair is yours, and you’re free to weave your own fate for as long as it remains uncut.’ Her straight hair curled as it attached to my head, so that it sat at its usual length just below my shoulders. ‘It’s enough to thread your body back together, enough to allow the Gatekeeper a chance to heal it.’

  ‘Is it enough to bring Mum and Father back to Midgard?’

  Sif sighed, sadness clouding her summer eyes. She was just as beautiful without her hair. ‘No, their fates are already written. But Hel has lost her hold on you.’

  ‘What about Menelaus?’

  ‘You must find another way to release him from her clutches,’ Sif said. ‘Go now, child, and send Loki back to the depths before he empties Hellingstead of souls to feed his army. Never forget that he craves the chaos of Ragnarök. He cares not who is innocent.’

  Freyja gripped my shoulder. Her necklace glinted at her throat. ‘Thank you for the amulet,’ I said to her. ‘Without it the Nine Realms would be withering already.’

  She smiled. ‘You’re welcome, Gatekeeper.’

  Thor was staring at Sif, hulking arms folded over his chest. ‘My Queen, you’re clearly no warrior. We cannot send my grandson into battle with mere hair! He needs weapons to defeat a god.’

  We stared at him. ‘Hang on,’ he said, pleased with himself. He trotted over to the bonfire-sized fireplace and returned with his hammer, Mjölnir, and a heavy belt. ‘This thing has been collecting dust for a while,’ he said, gazing at his hammer dreamily. ‘Not many giants left in these parts. You can…borrow it, I suppose.’

  Odin, Thor, and Freyr, he’s giving me Mjolnir! I jumped with excitement, and then surprise, as I heard my half-prayer echo around the hall as if I’d said it aloud.

  Thor bellowed. ‘Do you think we read the prayers of the living in runes?’ He placed his arm around me conspiratorially. ‘I know, it’s the ultimate boy’s toy. But never forget its power. It’s easy to poke someone’s eye out,’ he added, thumbing over his shoulder at one of the feasters. ‘Ask Elk over there.’

  Elk waved at us.

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ I said.

  He held out Mjölnir. I took it, and immediately lost my balance.

  Thor’s laugh melted into the wider guffaw. Father had that intense don’t disappoint me look, and Mum smiled her encouragement. I heaved it backwards but my feet just floated off the ground. ‘Maybe this will help,’ Thor said, snapping the belt around my waist. ‘It bestows the strength of ten warriors. Now it’s time to summon your body.’

  ‘But how will I get back to Midgard?’

  ‘You can borrow my chariot,’ Freyja said, ‘but be warned. If you dent it, I will annihilate you myself.’

  Mum took my hand. ‘Good luck, Teddy. We will love and watch over you always.’

  ‘I love you too, Mum.’ I turned to Father. ‘I’m sorry, Father. You died to right my mistakes.’ Yet deep down, I knew I would’ve still saved Anna and Lorenzo from Hel. That was just who they’d raised me to be. ‘I wish I told you that I loved you, despite everything that went wrong between us.’

  He hugged me. ‘Theodore, my sønn. I only wanted to protect you. That’s all I ever cared about. Look after our uncle.’

  ‘I will,’ I said. ‘And Mum, what do you think of Ava?’

  ‘She’s just right for you, Teddy. She always was.’ Her kiss sent a spark through my heart, and somewhere far away, I felt a jolt, a spasm. ‘Teddy, tell my nephew that I forgive him.’

  48

  The Gatekeeper Reborn

  I’m too old for this. The rejuvenating herbal cocktail first brewed by Alastair’s ancestors had stalled the ageing process somewhat, trapping his muscles into their early forties, but even so, Calumina’s wild swing with the battle axe put him to shame.

  And Chesus, his arms were jelly, the stench of fear-sweat drenching his armour. When was the last time he’d defended a corpse from Ægir’s daughters? That idiot Espen – this was what he called a plan?

  The Golden Knives had fled to their carriages, searching for escape in amongst the smoky ruins. Those strange-clawed witches – or vampires, Chesus, it was hard to tell – alighted from the trees and tore into the fleeing cowards, while the sea-giants flushed the bodies of their brethren away.

  ‘Boss, he looks dead to me.’ Maurina. He still didn’t get the purple dye-job or the piercings. ‘He’s your grandson, I get it, but—’

  The tip of his sword flew to her throat. ‘Yes, Boss,’ she squeaked.

  Johnag jogged towards them.

  ‘Report, Jo.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s Loki. Those crazy-arse witches over there destroyed the portals. Golden Knives are trapped. How’s the kid?’ His dark eyes flashed with fear. Alastair resisted the hot rage, saving it in case the vampire-god or any other Hel-ish creature came for the body.

  ‘Espen’s on the case.’ He glanced at Loki, skipping over the burning ruins, forcing the wind to copy his whistle while his undead soldiers pursued the Knives and the remaining staff. Hellingstead would run with blood tonight. ‘What’s keeping the sapiens away? We’re on a hill above the town – Chesus!’

  ‘Witches on the perimeter. Akhen’s. Espen’s. Who the fuck knows? We’ll keep a look out, Al. Maurina, with me.’

  They left him with his grandson.

  He stared at the carnage for a moment. They were safe for now. He knelt down, still watching the battle, his calloused fingers reaching out for Theo’s sword-gripping hand behind him, only to brush against the grass instead. Gods on high, when the fuck did his grandson disappear?

  Menelaus dropped Ava deep in the woods. He meant to put her down gently, but considering every fibre of his being demanded he rip out her throat, he was satisfied.

  ‘Theo!’ She was screaming, her voice cracking. He fell to his knees and pressed his hand over her mouth. The mouth he had so wanted to kiss on that first date, that evening listening to her singing in her bedroom. Before it had turned out
she wanted his cousin. ‘Mum!’ He muffled the cry.

  ‘Quiet, if you don’t want to die.’

  March. Kill. Repeat.

  No. Run. Hide. Stay away.

  She bit his hand, hard. It hurt. He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that he felt pain. She pointed frantically into the distance, kicking and wriggling against him. ‘God, girl, don’t you know when to give up?’

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  The sky had split.

  He hauled Ava to her feet as the clouds morphed into a giant helmeted head. A woman in white, a cirrus-cape flowing above the wind, was charging down from the heavens.

  A glint of gold, sleek wildcats, or something like it.

  ‘It can’t be,’ he whispered. ‘He died!’

  ‘Ava!’ Lolita burst through the trees and flung her arms around her daughter. ‘Oh, thank God! Where did you go? What’s happening?’

  Ava pointed to the sky. ‘It’s Theo…’

  Lolita clocked Menelaus. ‘Professor? Is that—?’

  Ava took advantage of their surprise and ducked under his arm, running past him and through the stream of his screaming ex-colleagues who were heading downhill. ‘Salvation!’ she cried. ‘Salvation has come!’

  He wasn’t sure if it was Ava’s strange words, her radiant hair, or the sky itself, but some people halted on the hill and followed her back into danger.

  ‘I’m going after her,’ Lolita said, as if searching for the courage. She sprang forward and Menelaus whacked her over the back of her head, and hid her unconscious body behind a tree.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ he said, ‘I am.’

  Well, I’d always wanted to make an entrance.

  Freyja had escorted me – or the chariot, I wasn’t sure which, but her presence was welcome.

  The Praetoriani’s central façade had collapsed, fire breaking out in pockets.

  Where was Michele, Julian? Menelaus? The panthers took over, wheeling through the sky, the still powerful sun lighting Sif’s hair.