But the rest of the Aesir would probably be just that much more against Leif Svensen because of the split that had occurred. They wouldn’t like the idea of having a mere man challenge them and get away with it. Odin might be happy now with his apples, but the best that could be said fo rhte day was that it produced another truce. And there was the combination of Vali, Vidarr and Frigg lined up squarely against him. The more he succeeded, the more they would oppose him.
The next time, there wouldn’t be any convenient coincidence of the apples to sway the Aesir’s decision.
He got up as a halloo sounded from outside and went out for his supper. Then he stopped in the doorway, staring. Reginleif had been replaced by Fulla. Well, why not? Wasn’t he the boy who had saved her precious tree and hence assured her of a job?
He cursed the weakness in him that made his hands tremble as he took the bucket and platter from her.
“The apples are gathered and in my chest,” she told him, touching a small basket at her side—too small to contain more than a few apples, it seemed. “And I have been studying a new art. Lee has told me that you wanted vegetables, and I have found them. They are here in this—this stew. I—I’ve never eaten stew.
He stared into the bucket, noticing that there was something that looked like cabbage and carrots mixed with the rest, as well as grain to thicken it. By rights, he should have refused her bribe for his favor again, but his mouth watered at the sight, and he needed his food as much as any hero. “Wait a minute,” he told her.
He went inside, to come back a minute later. “I’ve taken half of it—that’s plenty. You might as well have what’s left. It’s better than straight meat for your complexion, anyhow.”
She’d seized the bucket as if to dump out its contents, but now she stared at him, dumbfounded. One hand rose to her face, as if she were testing her skin. Then she let it fall to her side. Without a word, she turned and moved off toward the main buildings.
Drat women, goddesses or otherwise! Leif clumped back in and started to eat the stew. With some of the salt the dwarfs had made, it wasn’t too bad, but each mouthful was harder to swallow than the one before. Finally he pushed it aside and picked up the mirror.
He found what he was searching for at last, and carefully watched operations that were supposed to be so secret that not a hundred men knew them fully. Weapons were still being made against the possibility of aggression or revolt, it seemed. And obviously the making of fission bombs had been simplified considerably since he’d read the college descriptions of them. In a pinch, the dwarfs could turn them out. The means for bringing the two masses of U-235 together violently weren’t too difficult, and the same trick detonator would set of the charge that started the whole operation.
Just what could be done with them when they were made was another matter, though it seemed a shame to have all that power lying around without using it. He grimace at his own ideas, wondering how many other men had felt the same about their weapons, and how many wars and deaths it had caused. But in this case, of course, it was justified.
He tasted the stew again, muttered to himself, and began putting on his armor. The trouble was, he needed some company. Reginleif had indicated she would be happy to share his time, but he had no desire to see any woman now. Loki he saw enough, and there was never any sure way of finding him. And that left him only Lee and the whole company of almost-human heroes, minor gods, and others who were filled with nothing but brawling, and were the natural group to come under Thor’s protection.
He clumped out, starting automatically along the trail that led to the tree, and then swore again as he struck out firmly for Bilskirnir.
Reginleif brought his next few meals to him, but the vegetables and better cooking continued. He was sure the Valkyr wasn’t responsible, but if Fulla was preparing the food, she gave promise of being a fair natural cook. The food improved steadily and began to develop a certain amount of variety. Leif Svensen heard that stories were circulating about the unheroic fare he ate, and he avoided Loki’s eyes when the god was around at the arrival of meals—which was often, since Loki was beginning to pick up tastes far removed from Asgard.
But the work in the shops was doing well enough. The grenades were stacked up now beyond any reason to make more, and a good supply of the explosive arrows had been made. Leif cudgeled his head for ideas and went on trying to find hints in what little the mirror could spy out for him. But he knew that he was only wasting time now, while he delayed the final decision on the U-235. Finally, he had to decide, and he called the dwarfs in and outlined what was needed. The bombs were within the range of their powers, though he had no way to test the first ones to be finished. He was doubtful of how much use they would be, for that matter. Still, it kept the shop busy, and satisfied the gods that he was making progress. It might even prove helpful, in case of further trouble, to have a surprise to spring on Asgard.
The group at Thor’s proved to be as dull as his own company, since Lee Svensen was chiefly worried about some means of getting a measure of efficiency out of the heroes, and Thor’s lack of humor grew ponderous in time. Leif tried spying out the news back on Earth by reading whatever papers were being published, but he found himself more and more uninterested. The weather had apparently reached its worst and settled down to stay. Meteorologists had given up trying to explain it. Wherever the conditions permitted, there was a wave of cultism growing, but the cold prevented the wide spread of that, just as it ruined the hopes of most local dictators. The cities were horrors now, and some parts of the country were little better. A heavy fall of snow was reported in equatorial Africa, but generally the air seemed to have purged itself of most of its moisture, and little fell elsewhere.
There was nothing there to cheer him, except for Loki’s word that it was traditionally supposed to be even worse. In the primitive societies that wrote down the original accounts, that might have been better fulfilled, but modern man was too used to depending on a steady stream of trade to revere easily to the practices of the raider of old.
Finally, when Reginleif brought a rather good meat load with vegetables on the side, Leif gave up. He told himself he was heartily sick of being reminded of the fool he’d been, and that something was going to have to be done about it. He’d see Fulla once and for all, and take care of things properly. Anyhow, the way to his heart wasn’t really through his stomach. He’d see her, though.
He felt better as he buckled on his armor and went out the doorway.
Then he paused. Coming toward him in the gathering twilight, with a happy little smile on her lips, was Fulla. Beside her, Vali strode along, motioning down toward the shop. They were still a couple of hundred yards away, but obviously heading toward him. Leif started to duck back, just as Vali caught her arm. Leif was puzzling over the meaning of the two together when a sudden cry from above jerked his head up.
Huge against the remaining light of the sky, the giant eagle was plummeting down, headed straight for the two. Leif fumbled for his automatic, yelling, but Fulla had seen it already, and was trying to run. The wings of the bird suddenly shot out, stopping its fall, and it dove toward her, blotting her from Leif’s sight. Then it was lifting. Full was clutched firmly in its talons, and the chest that somehow held all the apples was still buckled to her waist.
Leif fired at it, knowing the distance was too great, and took a shot at the running figure of Vali—futilely. He could see the eagle rising rapidly now, heading out toward the great wall. Another cry came from its beak, and it began to struggle heavily. There was a coruscating flash of rainbow fire, and the eagle and Fulla seemed to dwindle into nothing.
It had crossed Bifrost into Jotunheim, taking Fulla and the apples with it!
Chapter XIII
For a frozen second, Leif Svensen stood there, cursing himself. It was obvious that Vali had told Fulla some trumped-up tale about Leif’s wanting to see her, and she had been coming to a tryst that would have been pointless if he’d stopped being
a pig-headed fool sooner and gone to her when he first wanted to. Now, without the apples, the gods would be sleeping push-overs for the giants, leaving Bifrost wide open for them to get on to Earth. He’d seen enough of the giants through the mirror to know what that would mean.
He’d never been sure he could help to win Ragnarok, but he’d done a nice job of insuring its being lost—in the worst possible way.
Then he swiveled and dashed back to the shop, tossing savage commands to Sudri and grabbing for the mirror. He took one quick look, spotted Fulla and the eagle in Jotunheim, and tucked the glass into his pocket. Sudri was pelting away toward Bilskirnir as Leif came out and struck across the field at a full run, cursing the weight of his armor but having no time to remove it.
He could smell the stables as he came near them, and he turned in hastily. Reginleif was busy currying one of horses, while the Goddess Gna was watching. Leif grabbed Gna’s shoulder and swung her around. “Which is Hoof-Tosser?”
She started to protest, but her eyes had tipped him off. He dropped her and headed for the horse—a magnificent white stallion, bigger than any Percheron that Leif had ever seen, but built with the fineness of line of an Arabian. Gna came after him, trying to hold him back, but he had no time for fooling. He planted his fist right under her chin, watched her crumple, and faced Reginleif. The Valkyr blinked, squirmed as the automatic came out and centered on her, and then pulled herself together and went in for the horse.
“Saddle him!”
She obeyed, and Leif drew near the horse. Hoof-Tosser was skittish, but Leif knew horses. He gentled the animal, forcing the tension out of his voice and speaking softly into the stallion’s ears. Then he swung into the saddle, lifted Hoot-Tosser onto his rear legs, and pivoted about and out of the stable.
He headed straight for the wall, wondering how to steer a horse upwards. He wasn’t even certain that the animal could lift into the air, except on Earth, as it was mythically supposed to do. But it seemed to understand when he drew back on both reins, and made a convulsive leap. A second later it was airborne. Leif Svensen had no idea of how to cross Bifrost or whether the armor he wore would cause trouble, but it was too late to worry now.
“Jotunheim, Hoof-Tosser,” he ordered.
The horse whickered, then drew back its head and screamed. Leif tried to imitate the sound, and realized it wasn’t unlike the cry Reginleif had given in going from Earth. Probably sonics had some effect on the dimensional bridge. Already the air was taking on the rainbow rippled he remembered. His armor was growing warm, and the automatic was almost hot. There was a queer twisting resistance, but the steps of the horse didn’t falter this time. Loki had been right in saying that entrance was far easier to the other worlds than it was to Earth.
Under him, Asgard turned to nothing but color ripples that disappeared in turn; Leif looked down to see a cold grey landscape under him, scraggy with huge boulders, and looking like something left over from a period of glaciation. He glanced at the mirror now, twisting it until he could find the giant. But it refused to work—naturally, since it worked only between dimensions!
Far ahead, there was a victorious scream, such as a bird might make, and Leif headed the horse toward it. But though Hoof-Tosser went on eating up the distance, he could see nothing of his object. He shook his head, to wing suddenly at a call beside him.
For a second, he thought it was the eagle, only to realize that this was a great hawk. Hoof-Tosser whickered, and the hawk drew up. “You’re headed right, Leif,” Loki’s voice called.
The hawk somehow landed on the horse’s back, and began to struggle. A fine membrane seemed to peel off, and Loki emerged from it, stuffing a small bundle into a pouch he wore. “Freya’s hawk garment—elf work at its best. Do you know what you’re getting into?”
Leif shook his head.
“I can’t help you,” Loki told him. “At least, not inside one of their forts. They’d smell Asgard on me. You may be able to pass. Look, Sudri only barely told me that you were off after Full and the apples. Who’s responsible?”
Leif told him, and the god cursed in violent stone dwarf speech. He began to fill Leif in as best he could on the general habits of the frost giants, wasting no time on anything but the most practical details. Most of the knowledge was not encouraging. Then he pointed down, and Leif could see a rugged castle below, apparently hewn out of one of the great boulders. He made out a light courtyard of some kind.
Loki had the reins of Hoof-Tosser and was urging him down. “We’d best land yonder, and you walk the rest of the way. I’ll try to conceal Hoof-Tosser and work my way close. If you get free with the main, whistle three times and the horse will come. Don’t worry about me—if I am left, I can find my way back. Just get Fulla and her basket to Asgard—those apples are our first worry! Even over her, Leif!”
Leif slipped from the horse’s back, shaking his head as Loki held out a sword to him. He’d had some sword practice since coming to Asgard, but he’d do far better with just the automatic. And if he was lucky, maybe he wouldn’t even need that. These were the giants stationed near Bifrost, picked to resemble Aesir to aid in spying on them—and through their own careful breeding, he would not be too much unlike some of them. According to Loki, the barely mature giants were no bigger than a man. He might be able to pass as a young giant.
Getting into the castle proved easy enough. There was a spillway for rain water or something like it on one side, and he hoisted himself up and through the wall. Light shone out from an opened door, and there was no one in the courtyard. From inside, however, there was an excited babble of giant voices. Leif gritted his teeth and stepped in as if he had business in the home of the giants. No one was looking at him.
All he could see was a plain of twisted, hairy legs blocking the door, and supporting a massive body. Then they moved, and through them Leif could see bits of giants and chairs, and something at the far end that looked like a glass case with a big sword in it. The top of it was suddenly opened by a huge hand, and Fulla’s chest of apples dropped beside the sword. There was a hoarse bellow of laughter and Fulla’s voice shrieked.
Leif twisted through the legs of the giant and moved into the room, an immense place, well packed with giants of all sizes and types, some with tusks, others with long fangs, and a few that looked almost human in a bestial way. None were deformed in the sense that the dwarfs were, but all had a basic coarseness about them. The hair was too think, even for their bodies, their worst features always too prominent, and their expressions a blend of imbecility and sadism. Leif knew that some were smart enough, but none looked it.
All were intently watching a thirty-foot giant at the head of the table, who was casually holding Fulla in one hand. The other hand came out, swishing the thick hairs on the knuckles across her face. She flinched, twisted her head, and spotted Leif.
She covered the expression almost at once, but it had betrayed her, and was like a finger pointing at Leif. The giant over him looked down and yelped. “Balder!” Leif Svensen felt a taloned hand suddenly grab at his middle, and he was sailing fifty feet through the air. “Hey, Skirnir!”
The giant who’d held Fulla reached out a hand and caught Leif. The breath whistled from his body, and his ribs creaked, but the hand had cushioned the shock. The giant turned him over, staring out of narrowed eyes. “Hmm. No, not Balder, thought he looks something like the pretty one. He must be a new one. He doesn’t’ smell like a hero, either—real flesh. Thought I’d learned every As when I was a kid spying on them as Freyr’s messenger.” He bent closer, letting his foul breath blow across Leif. “Did Balder have any sons?”
There was a roar at that. “Balder!” one of the giants repeated. “Sons.” And they were off again.
From the back, a croaking bellow came, and Leif saw something that was neither eagle nor giant, but turning slowly from one to the other. The thing croaked again, and its head became all giant. “It’s the warlock—Leif they call him. Hai—Vali said he’d fo
llow after the girl.”
“Of course I came,” Leif yelled. The quiver that was running through him wouldn’t show so much if he bellowed back at them. “As a warlock—Witwolf’s kin—do you think I’d work willingly for the Aesir? When all the confusion came up, I lit out over Bifrost for your group on the double.”
Skirnir laughed heartily, slapping his thigh. He wasn’t bad-looking, as giants went, in spite of his size, and he was unlike all the others in wearing a smile. But under it, there was something that Leif Svensen had seen only in the eyes of a man who had tried to beat a dog to death. That man had been smiling, too, until Leif had lost his temper for the first time in his life and somehow knocked him unconscious.
“It won’t work, warlock. We heard of you from Vali and Vidarr. Here, since you love the wench, join her. We won’t separate you. We’ll roast you together, and after you tell us of Asgard, I personally will eat both of you. How’s that for real uniting?”
He chuckled at his humor. Fulla moved toward Leif, her legs tottering under her. Leif’s were in little better condition. He was reasonably sure the giants didn’t eat people—at least, not the frost giants—but a lot surer of the sadism behind the taunt. Fulla’s eyes were hell-wracked as she slumped against a big mug beside him.
“I got you into this. Oh, Leif, I’m such a…”
Then she screamed, and Leif saw Skirnir picking up a huge ember in a pair of tongs. He began moving it toward them. Leif reached for his automatic, yanked it frantically out and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened! He’d forgotten to reload. Skirnir had started to duck, dropping the ember which fell on another giant and brought forth monstrous yells. Now the head giant grinned again. He flicked the gun from Leif’s hands and pulled the pouch of clips away in a snapping motion.
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