“We’re going, Faulkner. But if you really feel like losing that temper of yours, come on out with me and let it rip. No? Okay, Leif, let’s go. Gail honey, I’ll be seeing you later. And thanks for the coffee.”
The girl stared at her father for a moment, then came forward to open the door for them. Faulkner bellowed an objection and reached for her, but she avoided his grasp. He stood looking at his own hand, unbelievingly, more hurt than angry. Finally, as he had always done when his wife was still alive, he sighed thickly and went clumping up the stairs in defeat.
Gail came out on the porch, staring to apologize. Lee cut her words off, pulling her face up to his. She came up to meet him hungrily—and jerked back with a sudden low scream.
They turned their faces up to follow her frozen gaze.
The sky was black already and the thickening snow was visible only where the lights from the open door and the windows streamed outward. But something white was coming through the air, squarely in the path of that light. A lusty alto voice hit their ears, and a young blonde woman with the build of an Amazon appeared, mounted on the biggest white horse Leif had ever seen. She seemed to be riding down the light, staring straight at the Svenson twins. The horse dropped until its hoofs were beating the air only four feet off the ground. Then her voice lifted in pitch and the horse reared, leaping upward over the porch. The drumming thud of hoofs and her song drifted out into the silence.
When they reached the rear of the house, she was gone.
Chapter II
Leif Svenson sat in the car, trying to warm it up, while he waited for Lee to make his good-byes to Gail Faulkner. He was trying to understand what he had seen, and wasn’t having too much success. The hair on the back of his neck had risen, as in fear, but there had been nothing terrifying about the rider, and he couldn’t be sure now whether he had been afraid or not. He could remember now that Lee had seemed more startled then he had been. His brother had taken only a single glance and then a jerked back into the doorway, not emerging until the rider was gone.
As best life can remember, the wood had seemed fully human, and the horse might have been a normal stallion; perhaps even its size had been exaggerated by the lighting. It had been too plain for hallucination, and Leif didn’t question his sight. Somehow, there were horses that could fly without wings—or there were scientific developments that permitted projection of such a vision. Either Einstein’s work with gravity was finally paying off, or someone had found the secret of television in three dimensions, color, and sound—without a receiver.
But the purpose of using either development here, so far from any center importance, eluded him.
“Valkyries.” Lee’s voice broke in on his thoughts as the other twin slid into the car. “Or that’s what our ancestors would have called them. I wonder who drew this one to us?”
Leif glanced at him sharply as the car began bumping down the lane. For once, Lee’s face was serious. “You don’t believe in that old legend, do you?”
“I don’t know, son. I’ve seen riders before—and one of them close—much too close for comfort.” Lee Svensen grimaced, and his fingers fumbled with a cigarette he was lighting. “In France.”
“You didn’t say anything about it when you came back.”
“I knew you’d never believe it. A lot of things happen in war that don’t make good telling.”
Lee mashed out the cigarette suddenly. Then he shrugged. “This happened the last day—the day I got the stuff in my chest. We were in an advanced unit. I had a lot of new men in my outfit, and we’d had our rear cut off. Logistics were all loused up. Ammunition was getting scarce. So when de Nal and Jordsson—a queer couple of men from the last replacement group—when they came back from foraging to report what looked like an ammo dump, I took them and a couple others in a truck to try a surprise raid on it.
“It wasn’t a surprise. The minute we stopped the truck, the other guys opened up on us with a bomb lobber. They got the truck on the first try, but I dropped in time. And that’s when I heard a woman kiyoodling overhead. It might have been the same one. Anyway, she was coming down hell-bent for election, yelling her head off, and all set to grab me. That’s when the second bomb hit.”
He shivered. “I felt something hit me, and I also felt her and grabbed my hair. She was making another grab, when something happened. Time gets all mixed up. I don’t know. Anyhow, either the blast picked me up or de Nal knocked me sideways, onto the steps of a church I hadn’t even noticed before. The woman writer he was screened—hasty-sounding, this time—and came to a dead stop ten feet up. Then I blacked out.”
“And you think being on consecrated ground saved you?” Leif asked. It was all a piece with the silly rumors he’d sneered at, but the fact that his brother was telling it made a difference somehow.
Lee shook his head. “I don’t know, I tell you. The priest who dragged me in and hid me until our side came through believed it. He claimed that the decay of religion was loosing the old demons, and that he was convinced these were Valkyries. Me, I’d rather not think about them at all. I—damn it, Leif, I just don’t like having one of them follow me here and stare that way.”
They drove on silently, each busy with his thoughts, until they reached Five Corners. Leif’s eyes were on the road, and he was only vaguely aware of someone standing and waving at the Corners. It was Lee’s surprised shout that brought his foot down on the break, almost too quickly. The car skidded violently, and he fought for control until it finally came to a stop a hundred feet farther on.
Lee was staring back at the figure now heading for them. “De Nal! Leif, that’s the guy I told you about. In France.”
And now Leif could make out the face. “Laufeyson!”
The door of the car was jerked open, and the man slid onto the seat beside Lee. He was chuckling as he slammed the door shut again. “Under any name, it’s still easier not to walk in the Fimbulwinter, Leif. I’ll return with you. Greetings, Lee Svenson. I’ve come a long way to join you again.”
“How’d you find me?” Lee asked. “And why? Recruiting?”
The man laughed, as if at a joke too deep to share. “Not for the Legion, Lee Svenson. No. Jordsson and I played dead after the bomb and then—we deserted, you might say. And here I am, while Jordsson is delayed, but joins us later. Or do you give us welcome?”
Leif had his own questions. The whole business with Laufeyson—or de Nal—made no sense. But driving was taking up his whole attention. The earlier crystals of snow had grown larger and wetter, and the windshield wipers were fighting a losing battle. He was forced at times to lift his foot from the accelerator to let a stronger vacuum work them. The blizzard was close at hand, obviously. The wind was rising, and snow was piling up. The ice that had been on the road was treacherous now, with the damper snow like oil on its surface. Even with the yellow fog light, visibility was bad, and he was forced to a slow crawl—or as close as he dared come without loss of traction.
Lee motioned questioningly toward the wheel, but Leif never felt happy when his brother was driving, even under ideal conditions. He went on, judging as much by the feel of the ruts under the car as by what he could see.
At that, he almost overshot his own entrance, until he heard the deep bass barking of Rex. Then he swung in, hunting for the road. He was starting up it when the dog leaped toward them in the glare of the lights.
Lee swore sharply. “I thought you said that Rex was chained.”
“He was. Here, boy!” Leif reached over to open the door, but the dog growled uncertainly, the hair rising on his hackles, and sidled away. Laufeyson made a soft noise, and the dog lifted his head and gave vent to a long, uncertain bay.
“Your Rex doesn’t like me,” Laufeyson said. “There are times when the dogs don’t, and the smell is still fresh on me. Let me move back, and bring him in, before we all freeze.”
With the man in the back seat, the dog crawled reluctantly in with Lee, and Leif drove up the long driveway.
“You might look it is collar,” he suggested to Lee.
“That’s what I’m looking at. The chain has been smashed, as if someone took a sledgehammer to it. No, darn it…the links are half mashed, half fused. You’d think a bolt of lightning had hit it. Here.”
Laufeyson reached over. The dog growled, then suddenly quieted at a strange phrase in some foreign tongue. Laufeyson caught the end of the chain and held it where Leif could snatch a glance at it. The description Lee had given was correct. It did look odd. With the neighbors cussin’ mad about Rex already, it would mean trouble if someone had seen him loose—and there was no way of knowing how long the dog had been free. He wondered who had done it, but there was no way of telling.
The automatic door of the garage had frozen shut, and Lee had to work it by hand. Then they were out, and into the warmth and brightness of the house, Leif leading Rex in and Laufeyson entering coolly behind them. The man glanced about curiously, and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened.
“Better than spending ages tied over three rocks,” he said, dropping into a comfortable chair. For a moment, he reminded Leif of a great cat resting in self-satisfied comfort.
Lee had brought down the whiskey and was pouring a shot apiece. Laufeyson seemed to brace himself, but he downed his shot and his grimace was contented. When Leif came back with coffee, the stranger gave it a disgusted look and refilled the glass with whiskey.
Unconsciously, Leif pulled the nervous dog closer to him, rubbing the great, wolflike head. “At least, if the storm keeps up, the fools will have time to cool down. Wish I’d been able to reach the meeting.”
“The storm will let up for an hour or so, shortly,” Laufeyson stated.
Five minutes later, the wind died down, and the outer air turned crisper and colder, but the snow stopped falling. Leif cast another doubtful glance at the red-bearded man, but he was holding his thoughts in careful abeyance. So much in one day needed time for digestion. Besides, there was something about the stranger that seemed to quiet questions before they could be asked.
Leif was pouring himself a second coffee when the phone rang, startling Laufeyson out of his relaxation. The man caught himself and settled back again, staring thoughtfully as Leif answered the phone.
There was an attempt to disguise the voice at the other end, but it was obviously that of Summers. “Svenson? Just a friendly warning. The men are getting tougher…”
“You mean they’re out to get Rex, Summers?”
The disguise dropped. “Yeah, that’s right, Leif. Now I don’t want you to go blabbing I tipped you off, here? But I’d sure hate to have anything happen to you. So a word to the wise, I say. There’s been another killing, over at Engel’s. And this time there ain’t no mistaking them big dog tracks. I figure it’s better if you take care of things first, before…”
Leif hung up, swearing. But before he could get back to his seat the phone rang again. He growled into it, expecting Summers again. But this time it was a girl’s voice. He listened, then turn to Lee. “It’s Gail. She wants you.” He handed the instrument over, and saw Lee’s initial smile turn sour.
“Yeah, honey.” Lee held the receiver away from his ear, waiting for her to calm down. “Yeah… Uhm-hmmm…Okay, we’ll take care of it. Don’t you worry. No, I know you couldn’t do anything. You’re a sweet kid to call. Sure, honey. Sure. I’ll see you soon.”
He was frowning as he faced Leif. “It looks lousy for us, son. Gail says the vigilantes met over at her place, and they’re out for blood now—from Rex or from us, and they seem to want both. Drat it, Rex couldn’t have gotten two Engel’s place and back, but we can’t prove it. Damn these crazy fools—a little fear of hunger, and they go nuts. I suppose they’ll be here in half an hour.”
Leif glanced at the clock, realizing for the first time how late it had become. He hadn’t even fed the livestock.
It took fifteen minutes, and some of his gloom lifted during the routine work. There was hay and fodder enough in storage for two years, if necessary, and the cattle and pigs wouldn’t suffer. Maybe that was at the root of his trouble. Few of the farmers around could face the prospect of the long months ahead without worry, and they must be fermenting envy into hate now.
He went back inside to find Lee tearing busily into closets, holding the hunting rifle in one hand. “Where you keep the cartridges for this?”
“You used the last on that hunting trip. I ordered more, but Sears hasn’t delivered yet.”
Lee grinned savagely and tossed the gun aside, to pound up the stairs. He was back with an automatic and several clips. He threw the gun to Leif.
“You take this. At least you know how to use it. I’ll get an axe. How about you, de Nal? You with us? Maybe we can outbluff them, but…” There was no question between Lee and Leif as to what must be done. Rex had been in the family since Lee had brought him back from Alaska as a pup; he belonged, and nobody was going to get him.
Laufeyson came to his feet gracefully, suddenly looking larger than he had before. “I’m not unfamiliar with an axe, if you have eight double-bitted one, Lee.”
A minute later, he was swinging it about, testing the balance in the close quarters of the woodshed. Overhead, there was a dull thunder of hoofs and a sound of singing. The red-beard looked up, grinned at Lee’s startled reaction, and made another graceful practice swing. “They gather for the feasting. And one is yet to come.”
One did come, almost on his words. There was a deep bellow from outside, followed by answering cry from Laufeyson. The door of the shed flew open suddenly, bouncing on its hinges, and a huge bear of a man was through it before it had closed on the rebound. His face was humorless, broad, and stronger than any face Leif had seen. The eyes were dark and seemed to flash in the light of the overhead bulb, while his black beard jutted from his chin like a flag. There was a feeling of massive power about him that seemed almost a solid aura. In one hand, he carried a black, short-handled maul that must have weighed fifteen pounds but seemed like a toy in the leather-gloved fist.
“Jordsson,” Laufeyson told Leif. “And a handy man in a fight, though he may bore you betimes with the telling of his deeds.”
The maul flashed up warningly, but the man was apparently used to Laufeyson’s needling, even though he obviously could not share in the humor of it. His voice was a deep rumble of power. “The nidderlings come, and Nikarr has the shield maids out. The raven master grows impatient.”
“And you grow wordy, as I feared. More, and all will be revealed before the time.” Laufeyson’s voice had a sharp edge to it.
Leif stared at Lee, and saw the same doubt in his brother’s look. Something stirred in the back of his mind, trying to make sense out of the words.
But there was no time for further thought; from down the lane, there came the sound of a number of cars. From the grinding of gears and racing of motors, one or more must have gotten stuck. There was the slamming of doors and the cries of men. Then faintly they could hear a body of men coming on foot, with spots of lights showing where lanterns and flashlights were being used.
Chapter III
Leif followed the others toward the front of the house, feeling a tightening run through him. His hands were beginning to sweat, and his stomach felt sick. It was one thing to realize the mob was out, but another to hear it on his own land.
Lee snapped on the porch lights. “Shows them up and helps blind them when they try to see us,” he said. “It wouldn’t work against trained troops with guns, but these men won’t like being seen clearly—I hope. How do you feel, son?”
Leif Svenson managed to grin, but his heart wasn’t in it. These three professional fighters might think this a small business, but he didn’t like the idea of an attempted lynching by his neighbors. A week ago, he’d have laughed at the idea, but now he was almost sure it amounted to that. He could feel the sweat gathering under his armpits, and his legs seemed to melt under him. He glanced at his hands and noticed that they were trembling.
Leif muttered unhappily. Sure, he could hang back, with two strangers and a brother just over a wound doing the fighting for him. He could let them take the brunt of it, while he was the man the crowd was after. But he couldn’t live with himself afterward. It was all muddled inside him, so mixed up that he wasn’t sure whether he was a coward or not. Well, he’d envied Lee his casual adventuressomeness. Now he’d find whether he liked such things are not. But already he knew that he didn’t.
The mob was near now. Most of them drew into a knot just out of the range of brightness from the porch lights, but a few came ahead purposefully. Leif saw Laufeyson slipping toward a shadowed area, but his eyes were pulled back to the group by a yell that seemed to be in Faulkner’s voice—the only recognizable thing about the mob, since all wore kerchiefs and over their faces or pillow slips with holes chopped out for their eyes. Inside the house Rex began barking loudly, and the sound touched off the men, who came stamping forward.
Lee had the useless rifle conspicuously across one arm as he stepped lithely forward. His voice had a sudden ring of Command that must have been learned in a dozen mercenary armies. “Halt! Stand where you are or we’ll drill you!”
There was a muttering while they whipped themselves up. Then a man in front took a step forward. “Give us that damned dog and pay for damage, Leif Svenson. This is your last chance.”
“Come and take him,” Lee suggested. “Bring on your whole mob. You’ve got thirty skulking back there. Maybe we’ll send ten of you back to our wives alive—if you’ve got enough liquor in you to face an expert marksman.”
He began walking forward, one slow, steady step after the other. The men hesitated as he came toward them, and a couple fell back a few steps. Even the leader was wavering. But at the wrong moment, there was an interruption.
Day of the Giants Page 2