by Dave Freer
Liz looked at the fire-wall. "Somehow they must have got over the fire. Funny-face did it on a horse, so it is possible. Let's look for tracks."
They did, but the only tracks they could find were those of a single horse, presumably that of Sigurd. And it was a steep little mountain-hill, too, with not many places a horse could walk without leaving a trail.
"It's as if they grew wings," said Liz. "Do these Valkyrie have wings under their mailshirts?"
Lamont pursed his lips "I've seen a picture of two Valkyrie 'choosing the slain' in a book somewhere. I think they had winged horses." He sighed. "And tracks in the air are few and far between."
"Well, where would you have gone if you managed to get out here?" asked Liz. Lamont was too distraught for clear thinking. "Back to where you left us, I would think. So let's go back to the dragons and mount up. We're on our way to Asgard."
"There is a war happening there," he said despondently.
They'd reached the dragons by then. "Can we go to look for Jörmy?" asked Bitar in a mournful tone. "I worry about her."
Smitar sniffed. "Me too."
* * *
Having persuaded Sigrfrida that allowing Marie to sit behind her would really be a better way to fly than hanging over the saddle-bow like a corpse, Marie was now wondering if she'd made a mistake. At least lying over the saddle she'd feel it was okay to be sick. And maybe because horses were really not designed to fly, the motion could even make a corpse queasy. But they were free and, hopefully, she was heading back to her children and her husband.
The horse was complaining. Understanding the tongues of all the animals was not always pleasant or very useful.
When they got closer to white walls of Asgard, she realized that finding her family might not be that simple. There was a huge army on the plains. The snowy landscape was black with men, and even from here you could hear the noise. The walls of Asgard were prickled with spear-points.
"What's happening?" she asked Sigrfrida.
"Ragnarok. We are too late, I think. The end has come."
"Ragnarok?"
"The great and final war. Where do we go now?"
"Thor's place, I think." Where else could they go?
* * *
The current tugged at the "submarine," flinging it and the occupants around. Jerry knew the first submarine to ever make an attack on another ship—the Turtle—had been little more than a converted hogshead. Knowing that and being in one were two completely different things. It was bad enough to be suddenly thinking of issues such as pressure and how long the air would last, without landing on top of Thrúd. Thrúd dressed for war, to boot—which meant spiky armor.
Jerry suddenly realized he was out-numbered by women in this craft and they appeared to be keeping their calm better than he was. Sigyn had yet to say a word. They bumped against the walls and Jerry wondered if the timbers of the barrel would hold. After what seemed like an eternity, Jerry felt the wood scrape on gravel. And then a blessed sound: Jörmungand's sibilant voice. "Do you want me to tear it open?"
"Please."
A minute later they were out, blinking, standing on the beach next to the maw into which the river Gjalar poured. Jerry realized he'd misinterpreted Sigyn's silence. She was crying.
"What's wrong, Sigi? Are you hurt?" asked Jörmungand anxiously. Sigyn might be the serpent-dragon's step-mother but the step-children were genuinely fond of her.
"I wonder if I haven't been stupid," said Sigyn. "I have sent Loki off to war on his own, and I am parted from him for the first time in hundreds of years, for my revenge." She took a deep breath. "I suppose it is too late to just let it all go."
Thrúd shrugged. "You know my grandfather. Odin would never have left it alone, because he never would have believed you could."
"True. Come, then, master magician. Loki believes you will bring down the wall, although he does not believe we'll catch Odin."
"He doesn't?" asked Thrúd.
Sigyn shook her head. "He would never have left us to come alone if he did. He is far too clever at protecting those he loves. That was why he and Thor made no objection to us coming with Jerry. They believe that behind the wall of Asgard we will be in the safest possible position. The war out there will be bitter."
Jerry blinked. It had seemed that Loki was easily persuaded to let them come along, now that he thought about it.
"Uncle Fox!" said Thrúd.
Sigyn nodded. "Yes, dear. He's like that. It is an aspect of caring, I suppose. I'll bet he told Jörmungand to take care of us. Probably to take us somewhere safe."
"Hurry up, Jerry," said Thrúd. "Draw those Runes and let's go and prove my father and uncle wrong."
Jerry clambered around the cave-mouth, making the symbol for ice, the symbol for sea—drawn in salt, because salty ice is much colder—and, of course, Ansuz, nine times.
Why did they have such a fixation on nine?
He then got out his funnel shaped piece of paraphernalia, already suitably inscribed with runes and took the stopper-piece of ice from the insulated bag. The problem, as Lamont had seen it, was that ice floated. It had to be a very rough edged hole for it to jam well enough to stay there.
It was apparent that Jörmungand had her own ideas too As Jerry finished his chant, and dropped the ice-plug, she swung her tail at the rocky bluff, and tumbled a thirty-ton lump of rock into the churning water.
Ice formed around the rim of the hole, and then Jörmungand's rock tumbled into the hole so hard that the ground shook. Ice grew around it.
"Run," said Thrúd, sensibly grabbing Jerry's arm and hauling him back from the edge of the river.
As it was he got his boots wet. But millions of gallons of water were already starting to back up.
"Time to go Odin hunting," said Jerry.
* * *
Frey rode forward in his chariot, drawn by his golden-bristled boars. Thor looked down on him, rather disdainfully, from the Æsir-SUV.
Frey swallowed. "Some wheels, Öku-Thor."
It was a fair comment. The wheels were large, to cope with stones, and they had spokes—weighing less than a quarter of what Thor's old solid wheels had weighed—and they had metal rims. They had leaf-springs too, and independent axles. "And with me driving it does no gallons per mile, now that I've stopped drinking. My artificer says that's better than any vehicle in America."
"Where is America?" asked Frey.
"Don't know. A place they drink a lot, but make great chariots."
"And the dog with the nodding head on the back of the chariot?"
Thor threw out his palms. "It's one of the magical mysteries, like the go-faster stripes and the sides of the wheel being painted white. But Garm says that he likes to travel by chariot. Loki asked me to give you your sword back."
He handed the weapon over. "Now, do we attack Surt?"
Frey nodded. "I never really believed it, when Ratatosk brought us word. But my father trusts him."
Loki came trotting out of the smoke. "Frey, I want you to take the east flank. Öku-Thor will take the west. And I am going to meet them in the middle. That's where they'll least expect me. And brace yourselves. We're going to be fighting in the rain."
"Rain?"
"Our Thor is a thunder-god. He can do rain if he wants to. He's drawing it now from the west. It would be better from the north, but it's too cold up there."
Loki turned to Emmitt. "Give Frey the slow count to thirty and sound the advance."
"I don't know how to play that," said Emmitt, uncertainly.
Loki grinned. "The horn does. And you're a better player than gold-teeth."
Frey turned his boar-drawn chariot. Thor looked at the mess on the thin snow. "He needs better emission control on that thing."
Among the Vanir, horns sounded. And then Emmitt raised Gjallarhorn and blew.
Even the smoke seemed to shiver.
* * *
Öku-Thor urged Tanngnjóst and Tanngrisnir into a trot and then into a gallop. Emmitt saw h
ow he drew his hammer and gripped it in one metal-gauntleted hand while he handled the chariot with the other. All of a sudden, he didn't look at all like a fat recovering alcoholic. He looked like...
Well. Thor. The Thor. He was really pretty scary.
Lightning cracked and the thunder roared and echoed. Ahead, like a huge red wall, were the fire giants out of Muspellheim. Their swords flamed.
And hissed and spluttered a lot, as the rain suddenly came in from behind them.
"Hold tight and keep blowing!" bellowed Thor.
Emmitt would remember the next half an hour vividly for the rest of his life. Partly he would remember it as total confusion, and thunder, and blowing the great horn, but mostly for the vivid little snatches of Thor, radiating lightning, and smashing giant heads like watermelons. There were a lot of giant heads, but without their fire they were fairly feeble swordsmen.
Still, there seemed an endless supply of them. And even through the rain Emmitt caught glimpses of occasional fires. Something was still burning.
Burning hot.
Chapter 40
The task of finding Odin was temporarily delayed by two things. The first was the need to avoid the rising water. The second was that the heavens seemed to have opened. In the rain it was hard to find their own way, let alone locate anyone else.
They fought their way uphill. There was lightning about, but it all seemed to be to the east somewhere. "Papa," said Thrúd proudly. "Look at that!"
Sheets of lightning lit up the sky. "I feel almost sorry for the fire giants," she added, not sounding sorry at all.
The rain did seem to be slackening off by the time they got up the rise. They could see a short distance now, far enough to see that the Gjalar river had already filled its gorge and was spilling out onto the fen-lands next to the wall.
"Well, at least I know where we are now," said Thrúd. "Odin's Valhöll lies over that ridge."
"He's not likely to be there, though," said Jörmungand, peering through the rain.
* * *
"Two of the life-sources from outside this Ur-world have penetrated your walls," said the Krim-device. "And you need to intervene in the battle on the plain. It goes badly for Surt."
"I am Lord of Battles, Thing. Don't try and tell me what to do." Odin had long since banished the Krim persona and taken complete charge of himself. "Even if Surt falls, the walls of Asgard cannot be taken by frost or mountain giants. They are stuck outside."
"Except that two of your enemies are inside, I told you."
"Mortals?"
That was what Odin termed life-sources. "Yes."
Odin took Gungnir and stood up. "Thjalfi, bring those retainers of yours. You've got some of your own kind to deal with."
Odin-Krim did not seem to understand. What had been done so far, raising the old altars, re-enacting the old myths with believers had re-animated this mythworld. It would, inevitably start to slowly fade without non-Ur-mythworld believers importing energy into the system. Such a construct was energy expensive. It might be stable enough for a few hundred years, but real stability, the kind the Krim liked, took far more energy. A lot more belief and a lot more lives, both within and from outside.
* * *
Dripping wet, Marie led her Valkyrie troop into Bilskríner, Thor's home.
Nobody was at home, except for the stable-thrall, Lodin. He swallowed hard at the sight of her.
"The master is away." Lodin rose hastily from in front of a fire he probably wasn't supposed to be sitting at, looked at her guiltily and put down a foaming horn. "It was so cold and wet, and with even the goats gone, and Ragnarok here I thought..."
Marie waved him to sit. "We've brought three hundred and eleven horses for you to look after. And I reckon you deserve a raise and some decent living quarters. And we're all starving. Any food in the place?" The truth was, she wasn't starving. But maybe food would help her with the light-headedness.
"Lots of smoked salmon. And some flattbrød."
"Excellent," said Marie, vaguely wondering what flattbrød was. "Let's get the horses in and eat. Brynhild will organize food and some more fires. Lodin, drink up and come and open the stables, and you can tell me where that husband of mine has got to."
* * *
The ravens were up, flying across a rain-drenched Asgard, and Odin was riding Sleipnir followed by a pack of Einherjar. Trailing behind them were Thjalfi-Harkness and Bott and Stephens, struggling to ride.
The sun broke through as they crested a ridge... and stopped. Relieved, Agent Bott managed to catch up, in time to see the entire group staring out across a lovely lake. It was a pretty sight, even if you could see the mirrored reflection of two dragons in it.
"Loki!" screamed Odin. "Curse you, trickster!" He turned on his Einherjar. "Get down there and unblock it!"
Bott looked at the lake, lapping against the wall. Must be some sort of drain that was blocked. It looked quite deep.
* * *
A raven dropped onto Jerry's shoulder. "Odin is looking for you," said Hugin. "Got any jelly beans?"
Jerry didn't. But Thrúd did. "Where is he?"
"Back along that trail," said the raven. "Good war going on down there. Plenty of fresh corpses. Waste of time to be flying around here."
"Why don't you go and fly there and tell Loki we're in and the Gjallar river is blocked and rising."
"Has he got more jelly beans?"
Thrúd nodded. "And lots of dead fire giants. I think you'll like them."
Hugin took flight and the party of four took the trail that the raven had pointed a wing at. It was narrow and steep, leading up a spur, and hard going for Jörmungand.
"I wonder if we wouldn't be wise to wait in ambush," said Jerry.
"Too late," said Sigyn.
* * *
Sure enough, there was Odin on the neck of the trail. He couldn't have chosen a better spot for self-defense either. It was a series of steep curving rock steps zigging into the little gully and then zagging out again, so that if they came up to attack him they could be neatly speared from above. It was also such a narrow gully that Jörmungand would have to skirt around rather than go up it.
Behind Odin were the traitorous Bott and Stephens and Thor's man Thjalfi. Odin started to lower his spear and then spotted Jörmungand. "Einherjar!" he bellowed.
Odin didn't have Thor's voice, but he obviously thought he had backup coming.
Jerry studied the situation, and didn't like what he saw. If the Einherjar came up behind them, they could attack Jörmungand before she could turn. And if she did turn, then Odin, on horseback and with a spear, would surely kill some of them. Sigyn had a knife and Jerry a sword he really didn't know how to use, and a net that he could see no way to use at all. Thrúd could certainly use her battle-axe, but one-eyed Odin was the lord of battles, for all his faults. He probably was the second most powerful warrior of all the Æsir, and he had cunning on his side.
Cunning that led him to turn to Thjalfi. "Go down."
Thjalfi paled, and turned to his foot-soldiers. "Get them."
Nervously, they began to advance.
Jörmungand spat venom at them. It fell short, but where it landed it actually ate into the rock, hissing.
The two PSA agents stopped. Both began unlimbering what looked suspiciously like cross-bows.
Jerry decided to try and beat Odin at his own game. He concentrated on speaking English. He had no idea if his words were being translated or not.
"Why are you doing this? I'm a fellow American!" he shouted.
"We've got a job to do. And we're as stuck here as you are!" That came from Stephens, putting a quarrel in the groove. He jerked his head at Thjalfi. "And we figure Mr. Harkness here is the boss, in the situation—and those are his orders."
"Think very carefully about what you are doing. We have found a way back. The sphinx and Bes and Cruz made it through. They've taken Ella and Ty and Tolly back. Cruz is coming with re-enforcements and soon we should all be able to head
home to America. That applies to you too, if you take that bastard down."
The agent stopped in the act of cocking the cross-bow.
His fellow agent put a hand on Stephens' weapon, pushing it down. "We can go home," said Bott, with huge relief. "Stephens, we'll have succeeded in our mission. We've got Mister Harkness, after all." He, too, nodded at Thjalfi.
Suddenly, a lot of things made sense to Jerry. "Harkness is in his fifties and overweight and bald. I know. I was shown pictures at the de-briefing. You must have seen pictures too. This guy is not Harkness. Anyway, I don't care who he is. Right now we have one Æsir against us. Help us, and we'll help you."
Stephens blinked. "But he knows all the codes..."
Bott blinked also. "He said he was magically disguised..."
"Apples of youth," snarled Thjalfi. "And I am telling you that it is in the national interest that you kill that man. He's anti-American."
"Do that and you lose all chance of going home," said Jerry with a confidence he didn't feel. "Odin—"
The wavering Bott turned, and at that moment, Thjalfi-Harkness cut him down from behind, with a vicious stroke through his spine and heart. Stephens, beginning to turn, realized that Odin's spear was leveled at him. His companion's body abruptly disappeared.
"You killed him," said Stephens incredulously.
"Shoot them," said Thjalfi-Harkness, his voice harsh. "I haven't got this far to be stopped by some longhaired university left-wing asshole. Get the dragon first."
Just then a bat-winged spiky shadow passed overhead.
* * *
"Down there! That's Jerry!" yelled Liz, looking at the scene.
"And that's our darling," said Bitar, almost throwing Liz off with his delighted wriggle. "Jörgy! Roses are red, and violets are blue, and they both stink compared to you!"
Lamont was also having to cling, desperately, as Smitar did an aerial dance for Jörmungand too. "My darling, how I hunger for your touch and your lunch, let's get a bunch to munch!" he caroled.
"Set us down before you drop us. And spare us any more Vogon poetry!" said Liz.