The land itself was much more impressive. The air seemed crystal clear, until it reached up to a layer of solid white cloud, like a uniform layer of infinite depth, but with light still spilling through. In the distance a low range of hills ran off into the horizon. A high wall cut off one side and a dense forest lay in front. In all other directions he saw that the greensward of rolling plains continued on and on; the grass was soft and springy underfoot. It might have been a well-kept lawn.
They headed for the forest. Then as they moved away from the huge, peeled-log buildings, Leif saw the source of the sounds he had heard on first awakening. There was a plain that occupied many square miles, and most of it had been worn down to the bare dirt. Now it was covered thickly with men in mail, slashing and poking away busily at each other. Some held double-bitted battled axes, others carried spears, and most were equipped with clumsy broadswords and shields.
As he watched, a warrior not fifty feet away swung at two others, lopping off their heads with a single stroke. The warrior wiped his forehead complacently and moved lazily down the field, apparently looking for more trouble. A spear swished through the air, piercing his side. He stopped, staring at it stupidly; then he saw down, not even bothering to remove it.
It looked horrible, but Leif was beginning to remember more of the myths. These would be the einherjar, the heroes that the Valkyries brought here to Valhalla to fight in practice until needed at the Ragnarok. Odin, ruler of this place, made them whole again each evening, so a little head-cutting didn’t really matter. Leif noticed that the wounds seemed to produce no blood.
“Your heroes look sluggish,” he commented.
Fulla nodded unhappily. “Most are, though these are the greatest of warriors. The white elves’ false flesh doesn’t hold the vital force well, even though it is caught at the very moment of death.
“—>False flesh?”
“So we call it—or called it—before the way to the world of elves was closed.” She seemed surprised at his ignorance but went on after a moment. “The Valkyries carry a seed of the flesh in their mouths and breathe it into the mouth of a dying hero. Then when it is drawn forth again, it holds the shape and force of the hero until more flesh can be added here to bring back full weight. But we have found no way to stop the loss of force with time.”
A matrix of something like the alleged ectoplasm to shape itself to the original cell and memory pattern, Leif decided. Then he grimaced at his effort to make sense out of anything here. “Why not bring back the real hero instead of such stuff?”
She sighed. “Even Bifrost cannot revive the dead. Elf flesh has no true death, and re-forms by itself. As for snatching a mortal before death severs his bond to his world—well, you should know how difficult that is. Even with two of our few apples, Hoof-Tosser could not bring you here without help…Nor can we stand talking any longer. Come.”
Leif looked at his body. Apparently it was his, and not some ectoplasmic stuff. It didn’t feel at all ethereal as he watched her moving ahead of him. They crossed a stream on rocks and entered the woods through a well-worn path. Then he caught her again, pulling her to him. She responded briefly before drawing away.
“We’ll be late,” she protested softly. “The Aesir are assembled at Yggdrasil.”
They were, as Leif saw a few minutes later. The fabled tree was really a group of ancient ash trees, with tangled branches spreading like a canopy overhead. Odin sat in a hard chair, recognizable by the wolves at his side, the ravens on his shoulders, and the one piercing eye that stared out of an old and glum face at the assembly. For a moment, Leif felt pity at the sight of the bowed shoulders and the doom and frustration on the god’s countenance.
Loki was waiting. He smiled and moved toward them.
Fulla made a hasty sing with her fingers and tried to draw Leif aside. “The Evil Companion. The Aesir are mad to let him return. Guard yourself against him, Leif.”
Leif Svenson frowned. He was remembering tales of Loki’s treachery and troublemaking. Fulla’s warning wasn’t unfounded, from the old tales. But he had no choice now; Loki was the only one of the council he could count on. “I think Loki is my sponsor,” he told her.
She went rigid and her face blanched, as if he had slapped her. Her hands, which had rested on his arm, jerked back and went to her lips. Disgust ran over her face. Without a word, she whirled on her heels and moved away from him.
Loki was beside him at once, chuckling softly. “She doesn’t like me, Leif,” he said needlessly. “Once when Asgard faced danger, I arranged for a truce with Muspelheim on condition she marry the head giant’s son. He had a boar’s head and four arms, but he was better than most of them. She got Freyja to bail her out, but she’s hated me since. Now she probably feels that you’ve betrayed her. But enough of that.” He drew Leif closer to the assembly, pointing. “I see you recognize Odin. Vidarr and Vali, his sons, are beside him. Watch them—they’re supposed to live on after Ragnarok, and I suspect they’re plotting to speed it. Then Heimdallr, who’ll oppose anything I wish…”
He went on, but Leif couldn’t keep track of all the gods and their relationships. His head was spinning as he followed Loki toward the throne of Odin.
Odin glowered down at him, while the cold face of Odin’s wife, Frigg, refused to see him. Odin motioned, but it was for Fulla. She came up with a chest, and Odin pulled out a small green apple. He nibbled at it, swallowed, and passed it on. The bitterness in his voice might have been from ulcers.
“Phhaa! Are we to gain our youth and strength on such as that?” He belched unhappily. “And not even enough of those. Loki, where is our son Thor?”
“Oku-Thor has not returned. Perhaps he seeks more heroes.” Loki’s voice was humble and apologetic, but changed to relief as he spoke sideways to Leif. “We’re in luck there. I was afraid that Thor would get back too soon. He’d probably recognize that you were only the hero’s twin, and have us both cast into Niflheim.”
“And the hero?” Odin asked.
Leif followed through the crowd, noticing the stares directed toward his boots and the watch still on his wrist. Loki’s voice suavely began the tale of how he and Thor had tried to get their man in battle, to be defeated by hallowed ground. He told of following to another land, and of the difficulty in arousing the neighbors and creating the battle there. Leif noticed a skillful blend of his own part with Lee’s. He also sickened as he listened to the duplicity Loki had practiced in stirring up the neighbors and then cold-bloodedly aiding in killing them, just to make sure that Leif would be seriously wounded, and suitable for passage over Bifrost. Apparently, by some tradition, only wounds gained in combat could count. He could almost agree with Fulla’s judgment of Loki. But there was nothing he could do now but play along.
Odin listened impatiently until the tale was finished. “Little enough, but I suppose it must do. It’s an ill age when men turn to women, and your hero lacks the shoulders even to swing a good axe. Still, if he has the skills they’ve used to replace their waning courage, we must use him. Lok, do you sponsor this Son of Sven against the Ragnarok?”
Loki lifted his hand. Beside Odin, the thin-faced Vali and the fat Vidarr turned quickly and began muttering. Odin cut them off, his shoulders sagging further.
“What more can we do?” he asked almost querulously. “The times are mad, and we grow mad with them. Even Loki we must trust, since this is a time attuned to him. If the hero of Loki’s fails us, we can be no worse off, and you may have the two of them for you sport. Son of Sven, step forward!”
“We’re in luck. Odin’s had opposition enough to grow stubborn in our favor,” Loki began. But a sudden roar stopped him.
“Hold!” The roaring bellow came from the rear, and Loki swore hotly. The huge figure of Jordsson—or Thor—came jostling through the ranks of the assembly. At his heels ran a tired, panting dog that Leif recognized as Rex. In his arms, Thor was carrying the body of Lee!
“Hold!” Thor roared again. He dropped
Lee Svensen with surprising gentleness onto the turf and swept his eyes back over the group, searching. Loki had pulled Leif back quickly, losing them in a thicker group. Thor scowled and faced Odin again.
“Father Odin,” he announced, “this is the hero, the real Son of Sven. I denounce the other as an impostor, and as great a knave as Loki. I have been betrayed. I demand justice.”
His eyes swung toward the foppish Heimdallr, who stopped polishing his fingernails against his thighs long enough to point to Loki and Leif. Then Thor turned toward them, reaching for the hammer at his side.
Chapter V
Odin’s voice took on a sharp note of command as he cut through the confusion. “Enough, Thor! This is a judging place, and these matters need thought. How comes this man without a Valkyr to guide him?”
Thor’s scowl remained, but his impatient hand dropped slowly, and Loki breathed a sigh of relief as he began dragging Leif cautiously forward. Thor’s anger was obviously still hot, but he was trying to control it.
“There were no Valkyries after Loki befuddled them into taking that one.” Thor jerked a thumb contemptuously toward Leif Svensen. “Reginleif and the others went off, leaving me with the hero dying at my feet. I carried him through Bifrost on my back. How else?”
“And the dog? Since when is Asgard for beasts?”
“Since ravens and wolves were brought here!” Thor snapped back. Surprisingly, Odin almost smiled at that, but Thor went on without waiting to note the response. “Two of the nidderlings had almost killed the animal before my hammer Mjollner found them. Yet the stout-hearted beast, dying and with a broken back, still crawled after us. Over half the way he came on his own. Should I have refused him help while Loki’s dupe rode on Hoof-Tosser? He came here in my arms, and right welcome to this place!”
There was a clamor at that, and even Loki’s face showed sincere admiration. “Even Hoof-Tosser at his best couldn’t have carried both,” he muttered to Leif. “But when Thor’s angry, he’d carry twenty through Bifrost. It will sway the Aesir to his side, though.”
Leif had almost given up any effort to think in the chaos of events, but he caught at Loki’s shoulder now. “I’m calling it off, Loki. I won’t fight against my brother.”
“A noble gesture, eh?” Loki grinned. “Don’t worry. Thor wouldn’t carry Lee here and then desert him. He may not be bright, but he’s just, in his own way. Lee Svensen will do well enough, whatever happens. But unless we win this affair, you won’t. You —>can be killed, even here, since you’re wearing your own flesh instead of elf-shapings. And that’s the least worrisome of Odin’s dooms.”
Now they were near the front of the throng, and Loki raised his hands ceremoniously for attention. Thor scowled at him, but Odin nodded slowly.
“A mighty feat, Thor,” Loki began, keeping his voice just low enough that the others had to strain to hear. The trick quieted them. “Bragi will make a new poem of it. But a pity, too, since I’d already sent the real hero on. Alfadur Odin, in the confusion of the fracas, it is easy to confuse the deeds of two who seemed exactly alike. Only by holding myself back, and letting Thor do most of the infighting, was I able to keep them straight.”
“What?” Thor’s ear-splitting bellow as a fresh shock every time Leif heard it. “You claim I don’t know a hero, Loki? Now, by Ymir…”
Loki shrugged. “Not an unconscious one, Oku-Thor. Dying men are all alike. No, I claim only that you were too intent on the battle to see all, as I did in my humbler role. Fulla, you were present when he arrived. Say whether y candidate seemed a coward.”
Leif looked at her quickly. But the warmth was still missing form her face, and her voice was cold and disdainful. “How should I know, Father of Evil? He —>seemed grievously wounded, from the scars that had not gone completely. But a mortal creature who would choose to be with you can hardly be trusted, or even have his wounds known for real, rather than by your sleight.”
“And did he cower when he was confronted by a goddess, Fulla?” Loki asked, and the grin was back on his lips. “Even such as one as you, whose virtue is known to be above the will of the needs of Asgard? Or did he perhaps seem eager to try his luck where even gods might fail? Surely you would know that.”
She flushed under Loki’s gaze, and her eyes swung to Leif Svensen accusingly. Then she turned away coldly, her chin raised a trifle too high. “He was bold enough—bold enough to be —>your twin!”
She came by Leif then, not a foot away, and it seemed to him that the angle of her head away from him was almost too deliberately calculated. She moved on toward Thor. “Oku-Thor, your hero needs reviving, and since no Valkyr has volunteered, perhaps my help would be welcome.”
She made certain small gestures and seemed to be reciting something. Then she dropped to her kneed on the turf, lifting Lee’s head in her arms. Leif swore—she needn’t have made that much of a production of it. Then he cursed himself for thinking it while Lee was in need of help—and swore again as Lee opened his eyes and grabbed for her. Frigg’s cold, disapproving cough put an end to that, however, and Fulla stood erect, staring a Leif with a thin, chill smile on her lips.
Lee Svensen shook his head and came to his feet, looking at the group around him. Leif expected shock and surprise, but Lee merely frowned, shook his head, and suddenly laughed.
“I’ll be blasted—grandmother’s Asgard. Thor, Odin—and Loki de Nal.” He shook his head again, staring into the crowd. Then his face cleared. “And Leif! Damn it, son, I’m glad they got you, too, even it if is selfish.”
Fulla carefully moved to the other side of Lee as Leif came up, grabbing for his brother’s hand. Rex let out a wild bark and was leaping up and down, licking at the faces of the twins indiscriminately. Thor muttered unhappily as the brothers came together, showing their completely similarity. His eyes were doubtful as Loki joined them with a grin on his lips.
The puzzled mutter of the group around reached Leif’s ears dimly, but his thoughts were churning busily over the fact that Lee could take everything in at one quick glance and seemingly enjoy what he found. Apparently he could also sweep Fulla to him in less time. But Leif’s throat was oddly constricted as he left the solid grip of his brother. “You look a lot better than the last view I had of you, Lee.”
“Two heroes, both alike, both wounded in battle,” Loki commented loudly, while Thor regard him with a mixture of distrust and strange, grudging respect. “Yet it is well known that names have power, too. Should the old blood not be stronger in the one named Leif?”
Thor’s grunt told Leif that it was a telling stroke; the gods were apparently better at tradition than logic, and name magic had been a considerable part of that tradition. He was trying to fill in the essential facts for Lee, but he stopped to stare at the assembly.
Heimdallr frowned and stopped polishing the metal on his corselet. The god’s fatuously self-satisfied look sharpened as he stared at Leif. “Two heroes, Loki? But my eyes, which can see the grass grow at a thousand miles, tell me your hero has one wound only, and that in his back. And I think it is the only battle wound he has known.”
Loki’s grin slipped for a second, and Leif felt his palms begin to sweat. He began to suspect that Loki’s smile was only a mask for worry. The seriousness of all this was slowly dawning on him. He rubbed his hands against his strange garments, bringing them up against something hard in the leather pouch Fulla had buckled onto him. It was the automatic which he must have transferred along with his other few possessions without noticing what he was doing. He reached for it, even as Loki recovered from his brief consternation.
“Heimdallr’s eyes see more than rumors this time, then. Of course it was a blow struck at his back—because none dared to face him while the battle rage was on him!”
But Loki’s hesitation had been noticed, and the face of Odin was sharpening into determination. Surprisingly, Thor looked uncertain now, still muttering. But the doubts on the expressions of the others were vanishing.
Leif braced himself, having to force himself to the realization that Loki could protect him only to a limited extent. He’d been passive up to now, but it looked as if the only saving of the situation would have to be of his own doing. He jerked out the automatic and pointed it at the smirking face of Heimdallr.
“If…” Leif swallowed, caught his voice, and somehow managed to stiffen himself against a picture of Lee in the same situation. “If you’re to blow the horn that gives Asgard notice of Ragnarok, Heimdallr, you’ll do it better without a hole in your head! And if the rest of you want that warning, you’d better see he stays in fighting condition. Or haven’t you seen what one of these things can do?”
He aimed and pulled the trigger as he finished; the report jerked ever god up, like connected puppets rising together. The bullet plowed into a knot on the tree a foot above Heimdallr’s head, showing splinters and dust down on the god and washing the smugness off his face at once. Leif was grateful for the target practice he’d kept up, even when Lee was away. “The next goes through Heimdallr!” he warned.
“No!” Thor’s hand leaped forward, and the hammer whipped out, barely grazing the automatic. But there must have been magnetism in the metal of the maul. It drew the gun to the hammer and jerked it from Leif’s hand, carrying the automatic back to Thor, along with the returning maul. Thor pulled it free and held it loosely. “A good play, Leif Svensen, but Heimdallr’s Gjallar-Horn is needed.”
Leif had turned, expecting the big hammer to come at him next, but Thor stood calmly regarding him. Apparently the big god had his own code, and direct action was no violation of it. Heimdallr let out a sudden shout, but quieted at a word from Odin and turned to confer quickly with Vali and Vidarr.
Loki was speaking again. “You wanted proof—and you have it. As was shown from Odin’s throne, the heroes now have new weapons, and ones which we need if Surtr’s host is to be overcome. Who but a hero would have such, or know so well the use of it? Let Thor’s candidate produce such a weapon, if he can!”
Day of the Giants Page 4