“Yes, but each of us has free will. Or, as is the case in your present circumstance, someone with the knowledge of uhrluhk and the power to do so may change it.”
“And…the Nornir allow this?”
“Mostly, yes. Sometimes, far-reaching consequences to such a change exist, and the Nornir must decide whether to let the changes stand or whether to take action to set things straight.” Kuhntul pointed at a set of runes that bore a deep slash through it. “Those runes there, I struck out to change a person’s uhrluhk. Mother Urthr was quite upset with me for a time.”
“You struck… Wait just a second… You said, ‘as is the case in your present circumstance.’ What does that mean?”
Kuhntul smiled at me like a mother smiling at a young child. “Veethar was to die in that cave.” She pointed at another set of runes. “It is here. Veethar dies at the hand of Kuthbyuhrn.”
“But I saved Veethar. He’s not dead.”
“He is not,” snapped one of the women at the fire.
“Thus, the conundrum,” said another.
I stared at the runes inscribed into the tree’s bark. Here was written the destiny of all living things, and the history of all that came before. If only I could read these runes!
“Kuhntul! His veil!”
“Yes, Mother Skult.”
I turned back toward the women and Kuhntul was standing in front of me. She smiled again and draped the black veil over my face and…
Twenty-five
I woke moaning and thrashing against the strong hands of Skowvithr and Veethar. Sif’s head was low over my chest, and her hands were bloody. Yowrnsaxa knelt beside her, handing her things when Sif grunted a word or held out her hand.
My eyes rolled up to Skowvithr’s concerned face. He saw and smiled. “All is well, Hank,” he whispered. “All is well.”
“Frikka,” I croaked.
“Don’t worry about that now,” muttered Sif.
“No,” I said. “I misunderstood.”
Frikka sobbed somewhere close by. “I’m so sorry, Hank.”
“Shh,” I said. “Veethar…”
“Yes,” she said. “But I didn’t know what would happen to you. I swear it.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I understand.”
“Well, I don’t,” snapped Jane.
“Tell…you…later,” I wheezed. “Gonna pass—”
Twenty-six
“There you are!” said Kuthbyuhrn. “I was getting worried.”
I opened my eyes, hanging in the air above my family and friends. Jane was glaring at Frikka, who couldn’t meet her gaze. “You sacrificed my husband for your own?” she demanded.
“It’s best to stay out of the affairs of females,” said Kuthbyuhrn. “Meddling only leads to a bite on the ass.” He sat now, gazing down on our party with alive, interested eyes. “You Isir are so interesting,” he murmured. “So alive!”
“Tell me what the lantvihtir told you.”
“The lantvihtir? Did they speak to me?”
“You told me before that they lied to you to get you to attack us.”
Kuthbyuhrn lifted a massive paw and scratched the fur under his chin. “Let me see,” he muttered. “The fight started when someone stuck me with a spear…”
“No, that’s near the end. You came at us from deeper in the cave right after we passed the pool of water.”
“Are you sure?” Kuthbyuhrn asked, tilting his head to the side. “I’m gentle by nature—always was. I seldom start battles.”
“This time, you did. You told me the lantvihtir lied to you to get you to do it, so your record is intact.”
“Hmmm…” The bear tilted his head and squinted his eyes quizzically “Oh, yes! I remember now. The lantvihtir came rushing into my area of the cave. They said men with spears were coming to kill my mate, and that—”
“Mate?” I asked. “Where is she now?”
He glanced at me and averted his gaze. “Well, I was confused before. My mate died at my side—long ago. We stood shoulder to shoulder, fighting the… Well, whatever they were, we stood against them and died.” He sighed. “She was such a beautiful bear. She’d have liked you. The fierce one with the axe reminds me of her.”
“You mean the one trying to heal me?”
“No, the powerful one who stands shoulder to shoulder with you.”
“My wife…Jane. Yes, she’s fierce about some things.”
“The lantvihtir are very upset with your party,” said the bear with a chuckle in his voice. “If I had been more…awake, I would have recognized it in them and seen through their deception.”
“What do they want?”
“The lantvihtir?” The bear rolled his shoulders. “What they always want, I guess. I’ve never understood them very well. Even less so since I died and could understand their speech.”
“Maybe I should speak with them?”
Kuthbyuhrn rocked back on his hind legs so that his head would be level with mine. “That would be dangerous for you in your present circumstance. No, let me act as your emissary.”
I glanced at my body bleeding onto the floor of the cave. “That might be better, but how can you be sure you will remember what to say?”
“I have a superb memory. For a bear, anyway.”
“I’ve no doubt.”
“And I needn’t go far.” He pointed with his paw. “They are just over there. Can you not see them?”
I stared in the direction he pointed, and I could see vague forms shifting and fluttering. “Maybe, but I can’t tell what they are.”
Kuthbyuhrn shrugged. “What is your purpose here?”
“We are passing through the cave to avoid having to climb the mountains. That’s all.”
“Let me talk to them.”
The bear lumbered into the darkness.
“The bear!” shouted Mothi. “Where’s the bear going?”
Twenty-seven
“To talk to the lantvihtir,” I murmured.
“What?” asked Sif. “Shhh, Hank. Don’t talk.”
“Kuthbyuhrn.”
“Yes,” she crooned. “Almost done here, Hank, and then I can stitch you up.”
“Magic,” I groaned.
“Not yet,” said Sif. “Let me be—I need to concentrate.”
“Fine,” I murmured, losing my grip on consciousness yet again.
Twenty-eight
A gentle breeze cooled my burning skin and ruffled my hair. I opened my eyes onto one of the most beautiful sunsets I’d ever seen. The horizon in front of me was lit with a multitude of shades: golds, pinks, oranges, blues, and purples.
“Ah, good, you’ve returned,” said Owsakrimmr. “I feared you harmed.”
“What the hell is going on here? Who the hell are you?”
“You hang from Iktrasitl, Aylootr, the Tree of Life. I’m your adjutor. Don’t take fright, enjoy the coming of the night.”
I couldn’t suppress a sigh.
“Yes, it is a beautiful sunset. Then again, it always is, Iktrasitl’s epaulette.”
“Why do I keep having this dream?”
“Aylootr, this is no troymskrok. Not all dreams are meaningless rot. Your ancestors knew this, but like so much knowledge, it has sunk into the abyss.”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“What? It is a grand name, Aylootr, one filled with honor, glory, and the sounds of the sharpshooter.”
“My name is Hank.”
“Four little letters between us. I cannot call you thus.”
“Why in the hell not?”
From below, a ragged roar rived the calm air. The tree shook with it, the vibrations magnified by the springy wood, bounced me up and down like a Pogo stick.
“That damn squirrel,” muttered Owsakrimmr. “Filled with the scurrile.”
“Why do I keep bouncing around?”
“It’s because of that damn animal, riling up the dragon below, enraging him, poking him, making him intractable. These branches are
spry, and when the dragon shouts, we fall, we fly.”
“No, that’s not what I meant—”
“Listen, Aylootr, and cease this prattle. Time is short; all this talk is naught but attle. Attend me before we are rived from this ash tree.” Owsakrimmr cleared his throat, and when he next spoke, his voice was clear and resonating.
“Two gods errant
Didst thou inherit
Your life in flames
Without fear you came
To the home of gods,
Across bridges, beyond stars.
Thee and she,
bound by the Three
at the foot of the Tree
Thee and she
Further entwined by fate,
As lover, as mate
Blood, bone, and eyes
When does one, so the other dies.”
“Very nice,” I said. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“Does it not?” Owsakrimmr sounded amused. “Not one tittle, not one jot?”
“No.”
“Let me try again, while I am still fain.” He cleared his throat a second time.
“She and thee
Lovers and mates
Entwined thy fates
With a runed thing
A fine Tverkr ring
When Frikka plied her trade
A fine mess was made
Not one changed strand
Nor three changed plans
But the whole thing ruined
All those lives, preordained
The whole skein of fate
Broken to save Frikka’s mate
Now, yarns are tangled
The Tapestry is mangled
We hang in this Tree
thee and me, me and thee
While the Maids’ elegy
Decries our destiny.”
“I really hate poetry—did you know that?”
“That is confusing…I find it soothing.”
“It gives me a headache.”
Owsakrimmr barked a laugh. “That’s not the poetry, Sherlock, that’s blood loss and shock. There’s the defect if my memory is correct.”
I shook my head. Riddles and poetry, when all I want is one straight answer.
“Que cette chose avancer,” said Owsakrimmr with a chuckle. “My kingdom for one straight answer.”
Twenty-nine
My head pounded, and the entire right side of my chest burned like it was on fire. I couldn’t move, not even to open my eyelids, and I didn’t want to.
“He will rest now,” said Sif. Her voice dripped with weariness.
“Will he…” Jane’s voice shook with emotion.
“Yes, his chances of surviving are good. I think he will live. I’ve done everything I can to make sure he will.”
“But you don’t know for sure?” asked Sig.
“No, dear Siggy. I can’t be certain. The Nornir have his life in their hands. But I want him to. Very much.”
“As do I,” said Frikka in a choked voice. “I’ve tried to look ahead, to perform an augury, but I can see nothing. And not just for him. It’s as if…”
“As if what?” asked Veethar.
“As if the skein of fate lies ripped—torn asunder.”
“All this… Was it worth it, wife?” demanded Veethar.
“Mother Sif, we need to retrace our steps.”
“Hank can’t be moved,” said Sif. “A move would kill him.”
Mothi sighed. “I had hoped you wouldn’t say that. The great undead bear has returned, and Althyof has grown weary in the hours that have passed. He is running out of strength.”
“So, lend him yours!” snapped Sif.
“Yes, Mother Sif.”
“Mothi, I—”
“I know, Mother Sif.”
Thirty
“Hello again, friend,” said Kuthbyuhrn.
“Hello, Kuthbyuhrn. I’m glad to see you.”
“And I you.” The great bear hung his head. “Though, I am ashamed to say I’ve forgotten your name since you were last here.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “My name is Hank.”
“Ah, yes! Hank. The strange name.”
“Yep, that’s me. Did you speak with the lantvihtir?”
“The lantvihtir? Why would I… Oh! Yes, I remember now. You asked me to speak with them, and I went to them, but when I returned you had disappeared.”
“Sorry. I seem to have no control of myself at the moment.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. I can see your fettle is in the hands of others.”
“What does that mean?”
“I have no idea. I’m just a bear.”
I smiled up at him. “You are much more than a bear, my friend.”
“If this is only a troymskrok, a meaningless dream, then I’m really part of your mind, and what you say is true, but if this isn’t a meaningless dream, I’m only a bear, I’m sorry to say.”
“Well…”
“It’s okay, Hank. I enjoy being a bear. I’m good at it.”
I chuckled, and he chuffed through his nose. “Okay. What did the lantvihtir say?”
“The lantvihtir? Oh! Yes, I remember now. Keeping things straight without an actual brain is hard. Mine rotted, you know.”
I nodded, smiling.
“Yes, well, the lantvihtir. They said they don’t care what you are doing here—that I should kill you all. I told them I wouldn’t do that, of course. Now that we are friends, it would be unthinkable.” He turned his huge head and looked into the darkness behind him. “They are massing for an attack. They say the short little one is running out of endurance.”
“My friends have a plan to take care of that.”
“Good. The lantvihtir… Well, they hate the short one particularly. Not only because he sings a horrible song that hurts the lantvihtir, but also because they used to be as he is.”
“They were Tverkar? On Osgarthr?”
“Sure, why not? The Isir aren’t the only ones who can use the preer.”
“I should speak to them. Will you take me there?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Hank. They detest the living.”
“I get that, but right now, I’m not really living, am I?”
The bear glanced past me, no doubt looking at my body. “Well, your body is technically alive, though an empty shell right now. It’s a gray area.”
“So I was told by a guy hanging in a tree.”
The big bear was silent for a moment before saying, “Hank, sometimes I think people are quite strange.”
I nodded, smiling. “Lead on, brave Kuthbyuhrn.”
The bear mimicked my nod and drew the skin back from his teeth, but the effect was ruined by his incredible fangs. He turned and shambled into the darkness.
I floated into the cave with him.
“You move well for one so recently alive,” Kuthbyuhrn remarked. “Oh! Forgive me, Hank. I sometimes speak without thinking.”
I laughed. “My people have a saying, Kuthbyuhrn. It goes like this: It is what it is.”
“What a strange sentiment.”
“It means there’s no point feeling bad for what we can’t control.”
“Oh! Yes, very wise. We bears usually say Uhrluhk, and chuff through our noses.”
As we approached the lantvihtir, I began to perceive more of them than blurs and shadows. Their ghostly forms were similar to the Tverkar.
“Step no farther, Hank. You are at the edge of the protection your friend offers. If you were to take two more steps, the lantvihtir would swarm you like a hive of angry bees.”
“Thanks for the warning. Can they still hear me?”
“Yes!” said one of the lantvihtir. “But you have nothing to say that matters to us!”
“My friends and I will leave you in peace if you will do the same.”
“You will stay with us in this cave, no matter what your friends do.” The lantvihtir laughed with a nasty smile stretching across his ghostly f
ace.
“That’s quite rude,” said Kuthbyuhrn.
“So is going back on your word, you great steaming lump of rotten meat!”
“I gave you my word based on your lies. I’m not bound by untruths.”
“What can I say or do to earn our passage through your domain? There must be something you want.”
“Besides your death? I suppose you could change our uhrluhk, so we aren’t trapped in this damn place.” The lantvihtir said it in a nasty, sarcastic tone, but I felt a glimmer of hope.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The lantvihtir laughed and a bolt of pure agony twisted through my head.
Thirty-one
“Daddy! Stop it!”
An immense pressure threatened to blow my brains all over the cave. My hands pressed against the side of my head as if I could keep my skull from exploding that way. I was rocking side to side, and there was a tearing, burning sensation in my side.
“Auntie Sif! Help!”
“I’m coming, Siggy,” shouted Sif. “Yowrnsaxa! I may need you again.”
I peeled my eyes open, and the firelight ravaged my eyes, but not before I saw Sig looking down at me, terror on his face, tears in his eyes.
Sif ran up and knelt at my side, grasping my shoulders to stop me from rocking. “Hank! Stop this! You will rip out your stitches.”
I got control of myself and lay still though I didn’t take my hands away from my face. She moved one of her hands to my forehead, and her palm chilled me like a lump of ice.
“He’s burning up!” Sif said. “Yowrnsaxa, I need the third jar from the fourth pocket of my bag.”
“Coming, dear,” said Yowrnsaxa in a sleep clogged voice.
“With speed, if you please!” shouted Sif. “Sig, go dip your shirt in the pool and bring it to me. Run, boy!” Sig pounded off, pulling his shirt over his head.
Every sound they made drove a railroad spike through my temples. Each time Sif moved, the sound of her clothing rubbing against her skin made me want to vomit. Every time I cracked open my eyes, the dim light from the burnt-down fire seemed stunningly bright—like a million-candlepower spotlight shined in my eyes.
“Hank,” Sif said in a quiet voice. “You must tell me how you feel.”
Blood of the Isir Omnibus Page 74