by James Comins
Beside her, Binnan Darnan was tired-looking, silent, standing floofily in her complicated black dress. Aitta and Talvi stood behind the girls quietly, watching the odd drama play out. The heat from the firepit was as soothing as sauna, easing all the trouble from Lenna’s bones, but still, she was sick of standing around and listening. She wanted to get up onto a chair, but didn’t see a way up, so she sat cross-legged below everybody and was uncomfy and that was okay.
“If we’re going to deal with mortals, Honnur, it is well they should know us by name,” prodded Mimir. From his chair far above Lenna, Baldur nodded agreement.
“Fine,” Honnur began, pursing his crooked lips. “Lenna Winn, meet Mimir the Well-keeper.” He pointed to the disembodied head. “Here on my left. He was s’posed to watch over the Well of Wisdom. But he let his well get destroyed in the war, so he mostly just sits around on the wreath I gave him.”
“I have little choice in where I sit,” Mimir snapped.
“Yeah, yeah. On my other left is Hodur the Murderer, Linny Woon,” he said, waggling a finger at the pale, blind god. “He’s responsible for the death of all the gods. He’s the reason no one survived the war. He’s responsible for us being alllll alone together. But we like being alone together. Don’t we, Hodur?”
Water welled up silently in Hodur’s empty eye sockets, filling them completely, giving him two circular dark mirrors.
“He was the one who sent Baldur to Hell, La Nawin,” Honnur went on in his horrible whistly pretendy-grown-up voice. “Did you know that, Leeno Win? He’s the reason his father is dead, aaannnd his mother is dead, aaannnd his friends are dead ...”
“Cut it out,” growled Baldur.
“It’s true,” moaned Hodur. “I’m responsible. I’m worse than nothing. I deserve pain. I deserve no end of pain.” He shivered, and the twin flickering mirror-pools broke and drenched the front of his orange tunic. “I deserve it. I deserve it. I--”
“Stoppit, Hodur, for Frigg’s sake,” snarled Baldur.
“Yes, Brother,” said Hodur. He shivered with a sound like falling leaves.
A look of pig-nosed glee consumed Honnur’s face under his tuft of beard. “And of course, Lana Ween, all of his friends are now sloooowly freezing to death in Hell’s House,” he continued.
“I said that’s enough!” Baldur boomed.
“Yeah, yeah. And I’m Honnur. The boss.”
Baldur chewed his gums with his molars. “Now you can have your fish.”
The shirtless four-armed god rose, turned and stalked out. Giving Mimir a last look, he led Lenna and her three retinues rapidly out the longhouse door. Once again they stood blinking in the graylight on the strange prairie. Above them was the vague shadow of the silver awning.
“By the Sacred Hammer,” hissed Baldur. “Ooh. Oh. It’s so easy to forget how aggravating he is. Oh.” Baldur swung a couple of big fists at the open air.
“So what happens now?” asked Lenna. “Shouldn’t we hurry? Don’t we need to gather the magic, and stop the flood of magic, and, and everything you said?”
“Yes, Lenna. We’ve done all we came here to do. Eventually Mimir will convince Honnur to summon the All Thing. Until then, we’ll have to work on our own. Honnur won’t help.”
They walked on toward the rainbow. Fatigue made Lenna’s whole body feel delirious and electric, but the somehow, the journey wasn’t finished.
“Baldur?” said Talvi, holding his wife’s hand.
“Yes, Old One?” Baldur replied.
“What happened to Asgard?” Talvi asked carefully.
“Very well. It would be well for you to know the story.” Baldur continued walking back the way they came. “I’ll tell it as we walk.”
Chapter Three
The Story of Loki
or, There’s No One Colder Than Hell
“In the old days of Asgard, before the great war, Loki was god of Changes,” began Baldur, plodding in giant steps beside them. “He looked after the way the world transforms. He collected magic, and he’d grant power over it to anyone who paid him homage.”
“What’s homage?” Binnan Darnan asked.
“Respect and praise. Loki was very proud of his power. He demanded that anyone who wanted his magic give him fancy gifts and tell him how wonderful he was. The Powers of Magic have always been eager for assistance. They all have their different plans for Earth. So to gain Loki’s favor, they’d load caravans full of pretty baubles and fine wines and flattering statuettes and they’d bring the caravans over the bridge of Bifrost to Loki’s castle. They’d hire bards and troubadours to sing Loki’s praises. Poets would recite eddas and sagas about his exploits. They’d get kings and barons to award land and titles to him. And in return, Loki would choose a Power of Magic that he liked particularly and give him or her enough magic to bring a Change to the world.
“Over time, every Power in the world praised him sooner or later. They had to, or he wouldn’t let them collect enough magic for a Change. Everyone sang his praises. All except for three of the Powers.
“These three were the oldest and most powerful. They each had an endless source of magic they could tap without asking Loki for it. In fact, Loki couldn’t even get ahold of their magics. He decided to go after them and demand that they praise him and relinquish their hidden magic.
“The Power of Hate is a giantess. Her name is Angerborn. Hate magic is a resource that can be churned up by mortals just by thinking it. When mortals tire of it, as they eventually do, Angerborn collects it, inhaling it with her rotted lungs and exhaling it into her stew. She dwells in a secluded cave called No-one-else and sits over her bubbling cookpot, loathing everyone and everything, surrounded by the dark thick clouds of her hate.
“Loki went to her and demanded that she praise him. But she wouldn’t. She refused to say anything at all. But Loki was sly. He changed tactics and told Angerborn that she was beautiful. She’d never been told that before, and was quite taken with the idea. Love is often coupled with hate. She had tasted it from a distance, but never in person. She decided to try it. She told Loki that he was handsome, and he told her that she was charming, and they stood around complimenting each other until they were both in love. While she was ... distracted, Loki inhaled, pulling clouds of hate into his lungs. He held his breath until he found a bottle to breathe the hate out into.
“Later, with the magic of hate that he had stolen from her, Loki created Yormungander, a serpent of hate so long that it wrapped the world up in its coils, squeezing.
“Next Loki went to Surtur, the Power of Fire. Surter stood far to the south of Asgard, just below the sun, collecting its heat and breathing out fire across the world, burning everything his magical flames could reach. Loki was born in fire, but he didn’t like it much. In order to talk to Surtur, Loki took a horn from the sacred mother cow Audhumla, hollowed it away and used it as a megaphone to call out to Surtur from afar, asking for praise.
“Surtur sent torrents of fire after Loki, trying to burn him, but he hadn’t reckoned that Loki was born in fire and could withstand the heat,” said Baldur. He looked out past the line of the destroyed wall to where a blue glimpse of daylight could be seen. The crystal sun hung there.
“Surtur spent so much of his fire trying to burn Loki that even the eternal horn of Audhumla itself caught fire. Loki was startled and dropped the bullhorn into the ocean. It became an undersea volcano, spewing the lava that created Iceland. Diving after it, Loki took an ember of this eternal flame and created the terrible firewolf Fenris, who could never stop growing and could never stop eating.
“The last Power who Loki visited was the Power of Nothing. For a long time, Loki couldn’t even figure out who was in charge of the magic of nothing. Then one night he stood on Earth and looked up at the night sky. In between the stars was Diamond Void, a Power of Magic so huge that everything in the universe could be found inside her. When Loki demanded praise from Void, she laughed and gave him Nothing.
“From the
nothing, Loki created the Lady of Death and named her Hell,” said Baldur.
“Like the place?” asked Binnan Darnan nervously.
“The place was named after her. The proper name for it is Hell’s House. A place I know far too well.” Baldur shuddered. “Loki kept his three monster children in the deepest cavern in the world, hidden deep within the Earth. He kept feeding them more and more hate and fire and nothing. The three monsters grew larger and larger, suckling on these terrible magics. Eventually they got too big for their earthly cavern and broke loose.”
“And they killed everybody?” said Lenna. She stopped walking and sat crosslegged on the ground. Everyone stopped and sat beside her. Even Baldur seemed weary.
“Well, not right away,” Baldur answered, crossing his legs. “The firewolf Fenris came to Asgard, leaping from mountaintop to mountaintop, jumping the distance from the mountains to the sky. He was very like his father, and expected everyone to admire him. He was especially proud of his bigness. He strutted up and down the fields of Vigrid, pushing out his fiery chest, fishing for compliments. My father Odin caught on and started complimenting him, and soon everyone else followed suit, saying how large he was, and how amazed they were at his size, and how he could leap mountains with his huge legs.
“Fenris acted courteous towards the gods, but we all knew that deep inside of him was the same anger and viciousness that made Loki such a pain to be around. The gods came up with a plan to capture the firewolf. They went to the dwarves and asked them to make a magic chain that could hold Fenris, no matter how big he grew. Then they flattered the wolf, saying he looked so strong, they bet he couldn’t be held by the chain.”
“And he fell for the trick?” said Lenna.
“Unfortunately, no. Fenris wasn’t stupid or gullible. He had inherited some of his father’s cunning, too. He demanded someone put a hand between his giant jaws, as an oath of protection against foolery.”
“But it was foolery,” said Binnan Darnan. “Wouldn’t he just bite the hand off?”
“Yup,” Baldur answered. “The only god brave enough to risk his hand was Tue the Swordsman, and the minute Fenris found that he had been wrapped in an enchanted chain, Tue lost his hand.”
“Eek,” said Lenna.
“What about the snake and, um, Hell?” asked Binnan Darnan.
“To capture Yormungander the world-wide serpent, Thor swam out into the North Atlantic with a giant reverse fishing line baited with an ox’s head--”
“What’s reverse fishing?” Binnan Darnan asked.
“Reverse fishing is when you drag something into the sea, instead of out,” said Baldur. “Aegir the stormkeeper was a master reverse fisherman. His undersea palace was full of driftage that he reverse-fished.”
“Maybe he’s the one who’s after us!” Lenna said to Binnan Darnan. “Remember the riddle?”
“But the dragon told me to ask a fisherman, not a reverse fisherman. Yes?” Binnan Darnan replied.
“Maybe you misheard.”
“I didn’t either.”
“You could have.”
“Listen to the story, Lenna!”
Baldur smiled. “Thor pulled Yormungander into the sea. The snake circled the Earth in its coils, biting its own tail, squeezing so hard that it cracked the sea floor down the middle. The weight of water is really huge, and the great serpent couldn’t lift itself to the surface. So it was trapped underwater.
“Lastly, Odin pushed Lady Hell into the Pit of Old Magic. She fell into the frozen deathland of Niflheim and built herself a hidden fortress of ice and bones there.”
Binnan Darnan covered her mouth with her hands. She must have been thinking about how close she came to falling into Niflheim, Lenna thought. The little black-haired girl spun and pressed her face to Aitta’s mod pastel dress.
Patting Binnan Darnan, Aitta hiked the sleeves of her dress up to her elbows and faced Baldur. “Hell is hot,” she said firmly.
“There is no one colder than Hell. Anybody, anywhere,” Baldur replied with icy certainty in his voice.
“But she fell,” said Lenna, pointing to Binnan Darnan. “And she floated.”
“Lady Hell fell into the pit before the World Tree had been planted. Before the Old Magic had built up,” said Baldur. “In the early days, the chill winds of Niflheim blew up out of the Pit of Old Magic, freezing the first layers of old magic into a glacier. The ice could be broken through easily with a blow from Thor’s hammer, though. That was how Hell’s way into Niflheim was made. When my father planted the World Tree on top of the glacier, the tree generated warmth--the only warmth in all of Niflheim--and the thaw pushed the cold and ice deeper. The tension between the cold winds and the tree’s warmth created a balance. As Hell got stronger, drinking from the straw-dead souls of the Northmen--”
Talvi cleared his throat. “What’s straw-dead?” he asked.
Baldur looked at him and blinked. “Aren’t you Icelanders?” he asked.
Talvi shook his head. “Irish,” he replied.
“Straw death is death without battle, the death of a coward. Death in battle led warriors to the great Vall Hall, and straw death sent cowards to Niflheim.”
“Oh. Okay,” said Talvi. Aitta, who Lenna knew really was Icelandic, scritched his arm with her fingernail.
“As Hell got stronger, feeding on the dead, the Powers of Magic brought more and more Changes to the world. Each time they did, more of the Old Magic poured into the well. The tree was built to insure a perfect balance. That balance was where you floated, Binnan Darnan. But now that the tree is destroyed, the warmth will be gone. The flood should--hm. I really don’t know how it is any more. The rules have gotten all tangled. The cold of Hell’s House might be leaking out, or the ice could dry up, or ... who knows?”
“Have we killed all of Iceland?” asked Binnan Darnan. “Is Brugda all frozen now? Reykjavik? Mister Baldur, it was me who broke the tree!”
“We’re so sorry,” added Lenna. “I helped carve a triangle. We didn’t mean to, only we didn’t have any way to escape, and I didn’t know any good magic spells, and anyway we tried magic spells, only someone else had better spells.”
“Binnan Darnan,” said Talvi behind her, “and Lenna. You saved all our lives. We’ll do what we can now. But you should feel nothing but pride in what you two did.”
“Maybe,” Binnan Darnan said, hugging herself.
“I believe him,” whispered Lenna. The sun had finally risen on Earth, and the edge of a Japanese brushwork painting was visible over the threshold of the great ruined wall.
Binnan Darnan nodded sadly. “So back to the story. So. How did Loki’s monsters kill everyone if they were all locked up?” she asked Baldur.
“Lady Hell was freed by chance. She was found by Loki’s cousins, the terrible shambling frost giants called Yotun. The Yotun were created by Void in the far past, and they dwelled in nomadic tribes in the wastelands of Niflheim. The frost giants witnessed Hell’s descent into the blue wastes as a falling star, and they searched that frozen land for her for centuries, not knowing that she had built a castle of bones and hidden it from sight under ice. They searched and searched until they stumbled into the entrance hall of Lady Hell’s hidden fortress. She welcomed them and planned her revenge with them. Together they built a stairway of icicles up to the flowering branches of the World Tree and carved a ladder up the trunk into your world.
“After Lady Hell and the Yotun had constructed a way up into the human world, they all invaded, leaving behind the vast glacier-jokulls of Iceland, ice so cold it can never melt. Traveling across the ocean, which froze under their feet, they found the Lady’s two monster siblings, Fenris and Yormungander, and set them free. Next they found their father. Loki embraced his children and sided with them against us gods. They declared war. Loki led his children and his cousins the Yotun in the last battle against Asgard. The battle had long been fated and foretold. It was said that the fiery teeth of Fenris would kill my father Odin just as O
din’s spear killed Fenris; that Thor would strike Yormungander with the sacred hammer just as the serpent’s endless coils broke the breath out from inside him; and that Tue’s sword would pierce Hell’s heart just as her diseased breath poisoned him.
“The battle was fought exactly as predicted, and it was the worst war ever fought. It spanned years of slaughter. It was so big that they gave it a legendary name: the Guðir Dag-Setr, which means--”
“The twilight of the gods,” said Lenna sensibly. They were Icelandic words.
“So who won the battle?” asked Binnan Darnan, still sounding like she was worried about falling into Niflheim.
“Nobody wins a battle,” said Baldur. “That’s my belief. Nobody who fought in the Guðir Dag-Setr survived.”
“Then how did you and them survive?” Lenna asked, pointing to the three gods in the longhouse.
“Well, let’s see. Mimir was both bebodied and immortal--”
“Bebodied?” asked Talvi.
“It’s the same as beheaded, except you keep the head. He could neither fight nor die. And then, let’s see. Honnur was probably out picking his nose or something.” Baldur glared back at the house of pitched logs. “Magni and Modi were forbidden from fighting, because somebody had to look after the Sacred Hammer when the battle was over. And I was in Hell’s House with my wife and brother.”
“How did you escape from Hell?” asked Binnan Darnan. “Did you climb up the tree?”
“Well, first we had to break out of her jail cells. I managed that. It took me twenty years to chip through the glacial icicles, but I did it. When we were out into her great hall, I challenged Lady Hell’s skeleton guard Madgood to a duel, but Hell wouldn’t allow it.”
“Why?” asked Lenna.
“And why were you in Hell’s House at all?” interrupted Aitta impatiently, stamping a foot. “How did you wind up there? I don’t understand how a god ... how a god winds up in Hell. How did you die, anyway?”