“I think she’ll be all right, now,” Huld said, looking at Bloodsong, “at least for the moment.”
“What happened to her?”
“Hel,” Guthrun softly moaned. Bloodsong’s daughter buried her face in her hands. A shudder shook her body. “My nightmare,” she whispered, “my nightmare. Oh, no, please, no.”
Bloodsong cradled Guthrun’s head in her lap and gently stroked her hair. “Daughter,” she said, “I am here. You are safe.”
Guthrun sat up then stood. She looked to the north and cursed. “Safe, Mother? It’s not Lokith’s power you see throbbing in the north, but that of Hel herself. She has left Helheim and is marching southward toward us with an army of Death Riders, Hel-warriors, and death-horrors for which I do not have a name. The Hel-march of my worst nightmares has become real.”
Save for a mumbled curse from Huld, no one spoke.
“You don’t believe me?” Guthrun asked. “You would if you’d experienced what I just did. When I looked at that throbbing glow, something clutched at my soul, pulled at me, seem to separate me from my flesh. The Earth passed far below me as I flew northward. I left the forests behind and passed over the frozen wastes. And then suddenly I was there, riding a skeletal steed among Hel’s death-horrors and warriors, riding beside Her. She’s still pulling at me now, wanting me back by Her side. And the pull on my soul will get stronger and stronger as She draws nearer and nearer.”
Bloodsong slipped an arm around Guthrun’s shoulders and drew her close.
“The Hel-march,” Huld whispered. “It’s what Freya-Witches have warned about ever since—”
“Ever since I destroyed Nidhug and returned the War Skull to Hel.” Bloodsong said, finishing for her.
“Yes,” Huld answered. “Ever since that. Ever since I helped you do that.”
“Lokith and his men must only be an advance force,” Ulfhild decided. “He’s not our main enemy, after all. But why was he sent ahead? Does Hel consider us a threat? What would a Goddess have to fear from us?”
“Nothing,” Guthrun answered with a shudder. “Nothing at all. He only came ahead of Hel because he wanted to heal himself with Mother’s and my blood.”
“Perhaps,” Ulfhild replied, “or perhaps there is more to it than that. Couldn’t he have healed himself just as well after HeI had used Her own sorcery to capture you two?”
“Maybe Ulfhild’s right,” Huld suggested. “Maybe Hel does have something to fear from us and sent him ahead to subdue us before She left Helheim.”
“And if She does fear something,” Ulfhild continued, “we must discover what it is.”
Silence again descended until Bloodsong said, “You say you were there with HeI, Daughter. That pulsing glow reminds me of the way the War Skull throbbed in Nidhug’s cavern. Has Hel brought Her power source with Her on the march? It would only make sense.”
“Yes,” Guthrun nodded, “it was there, a massive, crystalline skull pulsing with purple light, throbbing with a thunderous, rumbling moan, towering over all, being dragged forward over the ice on a massive sled drawn by dozens of skeletal Hel-horses. I did not see it in Nidhug’s cavern, but from what you’ve told me it must be much larger now. It probably once filled that cavern, centuries before you saw it, but had grown smaller. Now, I assume, that it has grown larger again as Hel’s power has waxed stronger. They feed on each other somehow.”
“If we could destroy it,” Bloodsong noted, “Hel’s power would be decisively broken.”
“And with it Lokith’s?” Ulfhild suggested.
“Certainly weakened, at least,” Guthrun replied. “The Hel-magic in me would also weaken or vanish. I neither asked for nor wanted the dark magic Thokk awakened within me, and I trust that all of you know I would relinquish it gladly.”
“Might Hel fear that we could somehow destroy the War Skull?” Ulfhild asked. “And if so, how? That is the question we should ponder. Perhaps there lies the true reason Lokith carne ahead to attack the encampment.”
“None of this would be happening,” Guthrun said quietly, “if not for me. You would never have returned the War Skull to Hel, Mother, if not to free me. You would not even have become a Hel-warrior in the first place if not to save me from dying in your womb.”
“I had to save your life, Guthrun, and I had to free you from Helheim, as well as fulfill my vows of vengeance against Nidhug, no matter the cost.”
“Even if the cost turns out to be the death of much of the world’s life? She claims She reigned upon the Earth at Time’s Dawning and wants to do it again. But if She does, now, after all that has been done to Her, it won’t be the same as before. Earth could become instead a place of darkness and death.”
“Guthrun,” Bloodsong responded, “the answers I have for you are the same as always. Hel-march or not, I knew that my actions might release Hel’s power, but for you and for revenge against Nidhug, I would do it all again without hesitation. Without hesitation.”
“I know,” Guthrun replied, squeezing her mother’s hand. “And in spite of everything, you know that I’m grateful for what you and Huld and the others risked and suffered for me.“
Bloodsong held tight to Guthrun’s hand. “We have a greater goal now,” she said to them all. “We’re no longer women fleeing a conqueror. And we must not direct our efforts, for now, to merely retaking the encampment and freeing our warriors, unless that seems to be the best way to attempt the War Skull’s destruction. Perhaps Hel does fear us. Perhaps She does not. But,” she continued, her voice growing steadily stronger with steely determination, “by the Gods, by my soul, and by my daughter’s life, if Hel doesn’t fear us now, I vow that She will before we’re done.
“When I set out alone to battle Nidhug, the task seemed hopeless, but I tried to think only of victory, and with the help of the old friends and new I encountered along the way, Nidhug was defeated. And when Thokk imprisoned Guthrun in her castle, the Hel-Witch’s sorcery seemed to make rescue impossible. Yet working together, we destroyed Thokk and rescued my daughter. And though we now face what seems an even more impossible task, I for one intend to think only of victory and devote myself to finding a way to accomplish it.”
“And who better to attempt it than you and I?” Huld remarked, “two who helped make the Hel-march possible.”
“And I shall battle Her in Odin’s name,” Ulfhild said, “for it was my Berserker God who first stole the War Skull and sent Her to Helheim. By Odin and my soul, I vow that She’ll not spread death over my world.”
“And we’ll all fight her,” Guthrun added, “because unless we wish to hide safely here in Freya’s Wood until the Hel-march reaches and destroys us, we really have no choice.”
The four stood watching the northern horizon throb with purple light for a short while longer, then Bloodsong turned to Huld.
“And what do you make of the way our surroundings changed?” she asked the Freya-Witch.
“Perhaps Freya merely wanted us to see clearly the northern horizon,” Huld suggested, “and although I don’t know what those golden points of light are below, neither they nor our changed surroundings seem to have caused us any harm.”
“No,” Bloodsong admitted, “but neither does it contribute to my peace of mind, what little of that there is. And in the morning we’ll have the added problem of finding a way to climb down. But for now you three might as well go back to sleep. You all need rest. I’ll take my turn at watch.”
“I think I’ll stay up with you,” Guthrun told her. “I really don’t feel very sleepy now.”
“Nor I,” Huld said.
“Let’s lie down, anyway,” Ulfhild suggested. “I don’t feel sleepy, either, but I’ll wager that our bodies are sleepier than our minds and will soon take charge.”
Before long, as Ulfhild had predicted, all three were asleep once more, and Bloodsong stood watch alone. Suddenly she realize
d that she still had her sword in her hand. She bent down to pick up the sword belt and scabbard lying on the ground where she’d been sleeping, and when she straightened, she found herself no longer upon the high plateau but standing atop the hill in the forest clearing once more.
Her heart jumped with surprise as she instinctively tensed into a fighting crouch and raised her sword.
The moonlight-silvered forest was silent. The specks of yellow-gold light she’d seen from above drifted serenely over and among the trees. None of the lights ventured into the clearing, however, and her awakened beast-senses neither saw, heard, nor sensed any danger. But over the tops of the trees to the north, so faintly that it hardly could be seen from the lower elevation, the sky still throbbed with a dim purple glow, heralding the approach of death and darkness, heralding the approach of the forces of Hel.
THE NIGHT wore on in the Wood of Freya’s Woe. The waning crescent moon rose higher above the hill in the forest clearing. The points of yellow-gold light floated in serene silence amongst the trees. The purple glow throbbed faintly in the north.
I should wake Guthrun soon, Bloodsong told herself, plagued by a growing drowsiness that was making it hard to stay alert, but I’ll let her sleep just a short while longer. She will need all her strength for what’s ahead.
“Runethroat!” a voice hissed nearby.
Automatically assuming danger, Bloodsong jerked her sword from its scabbard and whirled in a crouch toward Ulfhild. No one ever called her Runethroat save Ulfhild. But the Berserker slept soundly.
Bloodsong remained tensed, suspecting sorcery, wondering if Lokith had found a way to breach the barriers of Freya’s Magic. She nudged Ulfhild with her boot. “Ulfhild,” she called, “wake up.” The Berserker slept on.
Something moved on the ground. Bloodsong automatically went to a defensive position, whipping her sword blade between herself and the movement. In the dim moonlight she saw a long, thin serpent slither away down the slope. Then suddenly the serpent’s shape changed into that of a huge wolf.
“Blackwolf!” growled a low voice more beast than human. Bloodsong urgently called Ulfhild again, but the Berserker still did not respond, and then suddenly the wolf-shape became three dark shapes that shot toward her through the moonlit air.
Bloodsong crouched low, sword raised.
“Ropebreaker!” whispered a voice as three huge, dark birds swooped straight at her face, then veered aside at the last instant.
The dark bird-shapes turned lightning-fast and shot back toward her.
“Corpse Beast!” came another whisper an instant before they veered aside once more, then turned and swooped toward her yet again.
“Werebeast!” the voice whispered as the dark shapes veered safely from her sword cut a third time, then turned for another attack.
“Bloodsong!” came the whisper as the bird-shapes hurtled by a fourth time.
Bloodsong remained tensed and ready, but they did not return again. On the ground at Bloodsong’s feet, Ulfhild awoke with a curse and grabbed her ax.
“I heard your voice and that of another but could not respond,” Ulfhild said as she sprung to her feet beside Bloodsong.
“Mother?” Guthrun said through a yawn as she sat up and stretched. “Is it my watch yet? I thought I heard you call.”
“There’s been sorcery,” Bloodsong replied, still tensed for danger.
“Sorcery?” Guthrun asked, quickly getting to her feet, sword in hand. “Surely not Lokith’s, not here in Freya’s Wood.”
Bloodsong hurriedly told Guthrun and Ulfhild all that had happened.
“The first three names are those Ulfhild sometimes calls you,” Guthrun noted.
“But I’ve never called you Corpse Beast or Werebeast.”
“I’m going to awaken Huld,” Guthrun decided. “I’m surprised that she hasn’t already heard us and—”
“I’m awake,” Huld interrupted. She sat up, eyes blazing with yellow-gold light. She climbed to her feet. “I’ve been listening, but not just to you. Also to the voices of the forest.”
“I hear none,” Bloodsong responded.
“Nor I,” Ulfhild agreed.
“I don’t, either,” Guthrun added.
Huld shrugged. “There’s no danger. Have faith in Freya’s protection. The voices are childlike. They’re mostly just singing and laughing. I heard something similar once before, one Midsummer’s Eve during a high ritual to Freya when Light Elves and Fairies appeared. They circled the hilltop on which we Witches had gathered and danced and laughed and sang around us as we worked. They sounded much as do those I now hear in Freya’s Wood. And I see that the plateau is gone and the hill has returned.“
The Freya-Witch walked past them and started down the hill. “Follow me,” she ordered.
Bloodsong grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “You’re not going into the woods.”
Huld jerked her arm free. “I am,” she firmly replied.
“No.”
“Don’t you remember the part of the legend I told you about Elves and Fairies dancing around Freya’s love-bed in the moonlight?”
“Of course,” Bloodsong answered, “but it makes no difference. It could be a trick to lure us into a trap.”
“Freya’s Teats,” Huld cursed, her anger rising. “If we follow the voices I hear, there’s a good chance we can find the very spot on which Freya and Her mate made love. Don’t you realize what that could mean? We need some way to fight Hel. Maybe we’ll find something in that sacred spot of Life-magic to do it! Finding the site of Freya’s love-bed in the daylight might not be easy, nor even possible. Our best chance is to go now and follow the voices in the moonlight.”
“What of the sorcery I experienced earlier?” Bloodsong asked. “Maybe you weren’t awake when I told Guthrun and Ulfhild about that, but—”
“I was awake,” Huld cut in, “and I heard. Were you harmed? No. Because no harm can come to you here in Freya’s Wood. And didn’t any of you recognize the significance of the creatures Bloodsong saw? A serpent? A wolf? And ravens?”
“One old tale says that Odin once transformed himself into a serpent to accomplish a mission,” Ulfhild replied, excitement and awe welling deep within her as she understood Huld’s suggestion.
“And,” Huld continued, “since wolves and ravens are beasts sacred to Odin, surely he can also use his shape-shifting ability to—”
“In this dim moonlight,” Bloodsong protested, seeing where the conclusions were leading, “I’m not certain the bird-things that attacked me were ravens. And besides,” she added, “this is Freya’s Wood.”
“But Freya and Odin are allies,” Guthrun commented, “and even have been lovers on occasion, if the old tales are true.”
“It wasn’t Odin I saw,” Bloodsong insisted. “I’m not going to start believing that He—”
“Where more likely than here for Him to appear?” Guthrun asked. “You are in a place of powerful magic, or else Lokith would have followed and attacked us here.”
“You already bear the scars of Odin’s Runes on your throat,” Ulfhild continued, “Runes no Rune-master has been able to read, Runes that give you the power to transform yourself into a beastform different from those my people use. So, if He appeared to you this night, it wouldn’t be the first time He has shown an interest in you.”
“Assuming it was Odin,” said Guthrun, “the two new names you were called might be, must be, significant.”
“Aye,” Ulfhild agreed.
“Stop this, all of you,” Bloodsong demanded.
“Why are you so reluctant to believe that Odin might have appeared to you?” Ulfhild asked, puzzled. “It’s a rare but not unknown occurrence among my people. Would that He had so favored me.”
“Earlier this very night,” Huld reminded her, “we heard you swear a sacred oath to strive to destroy
the War Skull and break Hel’s power, and if we heard your vow, why not Odin? Hel is His enemy too. You should welcome His attention, not deny it. He might grant you aid to fight Hel.”
Bloodsong said nothing.
“Yes, Mother,” Guthrun said, “it wouldn’t be the first time Allfather Odin has manifested physically to one of His champions.”
“Now I’m Odin’s champion!”
“And why not?” Huld asked. “I know of no greater hero than you.”
“Hero! All I’ve ever done is simply fought to survive and fulfill duties of love and vengeance.”
“In spite of often impossible odds,” noted Guthrun.
“And still managed to win great victories,” said Ulfhild.
“When others would have given up,” Huld added.
“Because I had no choice!”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” Ulfhild commented, “if Odin believes otherwise. In His cunning, He may have even had a part in shaping your life. It is said that He strengthens His greatest champions by placing the most severe trials in their path. An old Berserker saying is, if the battles Odin sends do not kill you, you will—”
“Live to spit in His eye?” Bloodsong suggested.
“No!” Ulfhild cried, astonished. Then she laughed and slapped Bloodsong on the back. “No wonder Odin loves you!”
Bloodsong frowned. “It was not my intent to endear myself to Him.”
“Exactly!” Ulfhild nodded.
“Explain.”
“Battles that don’t kill you make you stronger. But strong enough to dare suggest spitting in Odin’s eye? That is truly strong!”
“Or the mark of an idiot,” Bloodsong countered.
“If,” Huld said, “Bloodsong, you don’t want to believe you’re Odin’s champion in His ongoing battle with HeI, if you don’t want to believe that your life has been one long preparation for the coming battle to break Hel’s power, then don’t! It doesn’t matter to us what you believe, nor, I’ll wager, to Odin. All that ultimately matters are the actions you take. But,” she continued, “it is important that you believe that the sorcery you experienced earlier was not a danger, whether a manifestation of Odin or not, so that you’ll now let me follow the voices I hear in the woods to the site of Freya’s love-bed!”
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