He almost bumped into Fulla, chucked her under the chin, and was gone at a run toward Thor’s group of einherjar, his voice taking on parade drill tones before he reached them.
Leif found the Valkyries busy saddling and cut through their chatter. “I’m guessing that nobody gave you orders, right? Well, what are your plans?”
Reginleif looked doubtful, still not used to his godhood. “To the battle, as always—to rescue heroes…”
She fumbled, and Leif grinned wryly.
“Tradition, isn’t it? To rescue the new heroes! Not this time, not by a damn sight! All right, get on the horses and go over to the shop of the dwarfs. Sudri and his boys are ready, and they’ll load you up with grenades and tell you where to haul and dump them.”
“I won’t take orders from the dwarfs,” Reginleif began.
Leif Svensen cut her off. “You mean you don’t like to take such orders. But you’ll do it, or I’ll give your horses to those same dwarfs and send you to live with them. Now get going! Fulla, you and Hoof-Tosser work together well enough, and Gna doesn’t know anything about this business. Take him and a few of these girls. They can lug the small U-235 bombs up to Bifrost, where you can carry them over to the trails in Muspellheim and Jotunheim. You know what to do?”
She repeated the plans they had discussed. Under the stupid tradition, he hadn’t been able to take precautions in advance, but he could cut off most of the reinforcements and prevent their getting through from the giant worlds by dropping bombs on them where they were massed outside the entrance to Vigridr. The stone dwarfs had modified the time element in the detonators to give the bomb carriers a chance to escape.
Leif nodded approval as he heard her repeat the plans. “Good. Hoof-Tosser is the only horse that can get off the ground, except over Earth, and probably the only one strong enough to carry a bomb across even these easy borders. Take care of yourself, and don’t get too low.”
She matched his mood by avoiding all show of emotions. He left as he saw her begin to give the Valkyries their orders. Loki and Thor were standing together, and he approached them, noticing that the black-bearded god was wearing his plastic under armor properly. “How bad is it?”
Loki gestured toward Leif’s mirror, and they all moved toward the wall, where they could watch Asgard and examine Vigridr through the barrier. Sometimes Leif almost forgot that the little battle world lay across Bifrost in another dimensional twist, since it lay so close. Passage to it was so easy that the pigs had to be chased back regularly from it, and even the oldest heroes had no trouble.
Odin and Freyr had already assembled their troops at the end of the battlefield nearest Asgard, and Tyr was coming through now with his. Vigridr field was better than a hundred miles on a side, taking up most of the largest land mass of the tiny world. Lee Svensen came moving through then with the left wing of Thor’s band—the strongest and smartest of the heroes, on the whole. As Leif watched, he saw the Valkyries begin to move down, dragging wooden sleds filled with grenades behind them, in addition to those belted to the heroes.
Chapter XVI
There was a mist over the field, and at first Leif could make out nothing of the giants. When it began to clear, he groaned at what he could see. The forces of the Aesir seemed lost in a tiny corner of the field, compared to the seemingly endless expanse of giant strength. And only the pick of the monsters were there—none less than thirty feet in height, and one whole company running to nearly twice that. They were armed with everything from swords through pikes to maces—and the last looked the most dangerous. But he could see no sign of bows and arrows, or of the cement-tamper gadget he’d have dreamed up if he had wanted to go around killing Aesir forces from their height. It had seemed so obvious to Leif that he had half expected to see it in use—though he knew that what was obvious was actually so only in a milieu such as his own.
“It looks worse than it is,” Loki said. “Vigridr has a gravity only about a quarter normal, and we’re more agile. But as you may have noticed, Jotunheim has even less, and the frost giants feel too heavy for comfort, while the fire giants are used to nearly three times our gravity. They feel themselves so light that they have to remember not to use their full strength, and it slows them up.”
Asgard would need the advantage, and it might not be enough, Leif decided. “How’d so many get there, anyhow?”
Heimdallr came up and caught the question, buckling on the plainest, dirtiest, dullest and heaviest armor Leif had yet seen, and swinging a sword that seemed designed for two men. There was a curious drive to his voice, totally unlike the usual drawl he affected. “My fault, brother. While I watched the main trails for the march to begin, these were coming in on small trails, a few at a time, hiding in the grasses, and waiting for this day. You were right—we should have struck them first. Well, good luck among them.”
Leif felt the three clips in his pouch. All his cartridges had been carefully reloaded by the dwarfs—a job which was barely within their skill. Thus, the powder was poorer than before, but it would have to do. He checked the grenades at his side and loosened the buckle of his new sword. He’d had Sudri alloy and forge it from the toughest formula he could find on Earth. It was thin and light, but this sword’s cutting edge could shear through normal steel as if it were paper. He’d imitated Freyr’s sword as best he could, and tried to sell the idea to the others. But they preferred the familiar, just as they distrusted this thin, tough armor Leif had had forged. They were used to mail, and he couldn’t convince them that his type of armor spread the shock better. But many of them were carrying the little polished shields that could be used horizontally, to signal reflections of any sudden movement above the wearer, giving almost a full circle vision against the giants.
He started to climb into Thor’s chariot, but stopped at a sudden shout that went up from the Aesir. “Naglfar!”
Something was coming through from Jotunheim. The thing was having difficulty, and none of it emerged clearly, but it looked like an immense ship. Then he could see that it was a huge mobile fort, equipped with everything from a great ram to ballistas. It rolled on huge wheels, powered by a multi-legged monster of incredible size. The thing seemed ugly enough to wipe out half the Aesir by itself. At the moment, it seemed unable to work through into Vigridr. It was beginning to draw back, probably to look for a better place. But once it got through…
He saw Fulla in the distance, directing some work of the dwarfs, and opened his mouth in a scream that seemed to sear his throat. To his surprise, Hoof-Tosser echoed it and took off like a shot, carrying Fulla with him. Leif began shouting orders as soon as she was near, and she waved assent and swung back to the dwarfs.
Loki’s expression was curious now, and the gods had apparently forgotten the monster fort. “Your powers are developing early, Leif Odinsson—too early. Few of the gods even, and no mortal, can use the Summons. I’m not sure I like it.”
“I’m less sure that I like surprises,” Leif told him. “Why wasn’t I told about that fort of the giants in time to do something in advance?”
Thor rumbled unhappily. “With Hrymr dead, there seemed no danger, brother. He was supposed to drive it and no other giant had the skill. And that may have caused them to delay this long, while they trained one of his sons.”
Naglfar had come up against Bifrost at another place, apparently. At least the size of the color ripples suggested something of that size. It would be pushing through in another minute.
Fulla went racing by overhead, with Hoof-Tosser fleeing from Jotunheim like a soul released from Niflheim. Then Bifrost seemed to buckle and develop diffraction patterns. For a few seconds, the outline of Naglfar seemed etched out of blinding light against the colors. The outline crumpled like a paper toy and something beat against the sky like a drummer hitting skin. The subsonic waves shook the ground, to face with the glaring lights. Even Thor’s voice sounded like a faint whisper after that. “Ymir! What was that?”
“U-235,” Leif answe
red, and waved up to Fulla. One of the bombs he’d ordered placed near each main assembly spot in Jotunheim had already proved its worth. But it had been a close call.
Thor was ready now, and Leif waved at Loki, who would be the messenger, since his skill at sleight could serve as enough disguise to make him pass unnoticed during the rage of the battle. Thor yelled at the goats and they went slipping along the edge of Bifrost, setting a pace the einherjar could follow. Leif looked at the heroes with mixed contempt and pity. They were going into something that was beyond their imagining, but most of them didn’t have enough of the life-force left to realize this was more than a routine day. And those with almost no life-force in their elf-shaped flesh had been held for reserves; it would be a sorry day if they were needed.
“I’ve had no training in this, Thor,” Leif commented. “I won’t be much help to you.”
“Training!” Thor spat over the side of the chariot. “It takes another virtue, Leif. I’m glad to have you with me and if the Serpent gets me, it will be good to know you’re here to lead my band. Ho! They’re moving.”
Odin’s band had started, and the distant figure of Odin could be seen in his gold helmet, holding what seemed to be a spear. Leif grinned, glad of the last-minute inspiration that had made him change the spear to a bazooka and furnish Odin with a load of trick shells for it. It had taxed the abilities of the dwarfs, but they had succeeded.
Out of the giant group a band moved forward, headed by something out of deepest nightmare. “Fenris Wolf, the Gaping Wolf,” Thor said, but Leif had already guessed it. It looked a little like a wolf, though it rose to a height of forty feet at the shoulders and had teeth five feet long, dripping a raw green fire of radioactivity. He shuddered, looking for the other monsters. He saw a great creature, looped into coils, projecting a head larger than a twenty-foot boat; but it wasn’t a true serpent, since it sprouted hundreds of short, stumpy legs and bore a dozen arms, all loaded with weapons. The third horror was harder to see—something that seemed to flame and blaze in outlines that the eyes refused to admit. That must be the dog Garm.
He shuddered again. Somewhere in his mind, a dim memory of things like that in Niflheim tried to clarify itself. Thor nodded, as if reading his mind. “The fire giants, being more terrible than the ones from Jotunheim, dragged these creatures from Niflheim long and long ago—so long that the giants now believe Fenris Wolf is the father of them all. They are dreadful opponents.”
They were more than that, and Leif’s admiration for Tyr increased as he watched the god drive his force against the thing called Garm. Then Thor yelled, and his own band was moving toward the Serpent. Thor handed the reins to Leif, checked his hammer, gloves and belt, and dropped over the side, running forward. The giants behind the Serpent came forward with a rush.
Leif’s eyes dropped to the long blades projecting from the axles of the chariot, and he hoped the accounts he’d read of the Egyptian use of them would prove true. It had been another last-minute idea. He whooped at the goats and let them go all out, fairly sure that their armor, built like his own, could withstand the giant weapons.
At the last moment he swerved, dug deeper into the protective front of the chariot, and shaved down the side of the giant ranks. There was a series of grinding jolts to the chariot motion now, and a howling above that threatened to break his eardrums. He came to the end of the rank of giants, stealing a quick look back. It seemed impossible that so many giants could have been robbed of their legs in that one brief passage. The blades at the sides really worked, and the old Egyptians had been smart boys. Of course, having the pulling power of Thor’s goats in front helped, as did better steel for the blades.
The giants were swinging toward him now, though, and he cut around their rear, barely shaving through them as they tried to close up. This time, while they were swinging to face him, he drove down the other flank, catching their legs from the rear before they could dodge or face him. He sprang to his feet and began tossing grenades into their ranks. He shook his head at the mental picture he had of himself, wondering how he could take all this with the same attitude as butchering time on the farm.
The giants lacked discipline—but that was nothing compared to the lack of showing among the einherjar. Some of them were standing off at the side, happily swinging away at each other, as if they were back practicing in Asgard! Leif let out a yelp and was in among them, as close as he dared come in the chariot, trying to bring order out of their behavior. He indicated the grenades, and they began picking them up and throwing them toward the giants. Half didn’t explode, for want of will, but those that worked helped considerably. Leif swung back.
A grenade from his own einherjar promptly hit the back of the chariot, knocking one wheel to splinters!
Chapter XVII
Pieces of wheel and chariots were flying through the air as Leif jumped. He landed with a jolt that shook his whole body, but he seemed to be unharmed, except for minor cuts and bruises. The goats had also come through without injury, but the chariot with a total wreck. Cursing the imbecility of heroes, Leif Svensen began unhitching the animals. At a swat from the side of his hand, they went trotting off toward Asgard and the stables.
Fulla yelled from high overhead, and Leif waved up to show that he was still safe. She dropped a rain of grenades into the ranks of the giants near him and went galloping back for more. As their only air force, she was proving to be the Aesir’s best warrior, and reasonably safe in addition. Leif struck off at a lope that covered some twenty miles an hour in reduced gravity, refilling his belt with grenades that had not exploded and avoided the thickest clumpings of the giants.
It was necessary to stick somewhere near the einherjar and to keep them from straying. He found himself suddenly bottled along with one of the heroes. Leif’s grenades had been exhausted, and now there was no opening in the giant’s ranks. He motioned to the hero, and they went leaping ahead together, ducking among the grouped giant legs, moving where it was almost impossible for a spear to be poked at him. He was using his sword to maim rather than kill, since a wounded giant caused more confusion than a dead one. Beside him, the hero was happily taking care of those that Leif missed, with a co-operation that was unusual for one of the einherjar. Then Leif came to an unexpected group of grenades that some Valkyr had dropped. The giants wanted no part of the explosions; they began giving ground at once. One spotted a grenade on the ground, scooped it up and tossed it at Leif, but the detonators were not tuned to giant minds. He caught it and fired it back—to remove the last of the nearby giants.
The hero grunted amicably. “We fight now, huh?”
Leif strangled over the words, but managed to keep his voice calm as he sent the hero off after more giants in the distance. Still, if they had all been like that one, it wouldn’t be so bad. He counted over a score of dead giants and sped down the field, wondering if there was anything to Lee’s theory that a man who was both calculating and unafraid couldn’t be killed in battle. It should make a good condition for survival, unlike the heady dreams of excitement he had felt as a child. Leif Svensen had wanted to seek grails, and he’d envied every man who found adventure or new worlds to conquer. For a time, he had envied Lee most of all. Now, in a situation that no story book would have covered, he had little time and less desire for anything beyond survival.
He leaped ten feet into the air over a dead giant and ran on toward what was left of his group of einherjar.
“Ho, Leif!” It was Thor, apparently wading through giants, his hammer a steady drumming that left a string of broken giant heads. With his other hand, he was swinging a big battle axe. Leif saw the giants closing around him like cornered rats making a last desperate bid, and went in from the outside, scattering them again, to give Thor room for his hammer work. Actually, it wasn’t too much different—except for the reversal of roles—from his experience in digging real rats out of a granary foundation. Try as he would, he hadn’t been able to hit one of them, though Rex had been kill
ing them easily. They had been much too small and active for Leif, as he was now for the giants.
“Garm got Tyr,” Thor announced sadly, swinging the axe over Leif’s head to chop off part of a giant. He reached out for the returning hammer, spotted a giant leg temptingly near, and swiveled on his hip to lock a leg into that of the giant. The giant tripped and fell where Leif could take care of him. “Though Garm died after the victory from the damage Tyr’s arm had done. And you’ve proved to be a better prophet than Frigg or the Norns, since I’ve killed the Midgard Serpent and Odin has a tooth of Fenris Wolf as a trophy. Where’s Lee?”
Leif shook his head and backed against Thor as three of the giants came charging at them. He barely caught the spear on the slant of his shield, deflecting it without trying to stop it. Even then, it sent a surge of pain up his arm. He had noticed that it was getting harder to dodge and save himself, as the giants grew accustomed to Vigridr and the fighting style of the gods. And he as having to watch himself, to make sure that his success didn’t make him careless. Thor did his fighting by pure conditioned reflex action, but Leif wasn’t good enough to grow over-confident safely.
From the edge of the field, there was a piercing hail, and a half dozen of the Valkyries came riding toward them, armed heavily with grenades, and intent on finding giants for targets. For a time they turned the tide back to a steady condition of giant killing, rather than war, and the giants began to retreat. Some of the better einherjar worked more smoothly with the women, and there were knots that seemed to be opening with almost full efficiency. The normal einherjar remained more of a menace than a help, however; the fighters were always in danger of getting a grenade in the back from one of their own men.
Thor found a lull in the action and began pulling out hunks of his plastic underarmor, shaking sweat from his body with it. Leif tried to help him, so they could get back into the fight sooner. Most of the plastic came out through the openings in the armor. They were pulling the last away when Loki seemed to materialize out of nothing before them.
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