by Ann Gimpel
Bjorn reached between us and curved a hand over my belly. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
I felt the same way. Given the sequence of events where our baby had spoken to me and I suddenly looked pregnant, I had a feeling perhaps things would proceed rather like time-lapse photography. It about killed me to let go, but I untangled myself from Bjorn and got to my feet, scooping up clothes and boots. His as well as mine.
He joined me; sea-tinged enchantment snapped us up and deposited us in my chamber. Mort yowled at the touch of magic and raced out of the room, hackles in full bloom. He’d return soon enough. I dumped our garments on the floor and knelt to separate them.
“Everything is so dirty, I hate to put them back on,” Bjorn said and dragged breeches up his long legs.
“Know what you mean,” I agreed. “But they’re just going to get dirty again. May as well wear them rather than polluting something else.” What I didn’t mention was that anything as prosaic as laundry had taken a serious backseat.
Once we were decent, we hurried to the kitchen. A pot of soup was warm, so I ladled some into two bowls and we ate quickly. I’d been fighting a creeping sense of unease from the time we returned to the caves, but its source wasn’t obvious.
Finally, I gave voice to my apprehension. “Do you feel it?” I asked.
He angled his head to one side and regarded me. “Feel what?”
Crap. Maybe I was edgy, imagining things. “Never mind,” I mumbled.
Bjorn set his spoon down and took one of my hands, cradling it between his. “Uh-uh. You asked for a reason.”
I finished the dregs from the bottom of my bowl. “I feel like something is skulking just beyond where I can get a good grip on it. Like we’re being spied on by someone who wants to remain hidden.”
The bite of Bjorn’s magic flared around us as he sent a seeking spell outward. Just for the hell of it, I pushed my power into his. His casting had been subtle, but it burst into a punishing glare of blue-violet light.
“Oops. Too much.” I dialed back my contribution while following the tentacles of his casting, hunting for clues. “I don’t get it,” I said.
“Nothing’s there.” He corroborated my assessment.
“Must have the pregnancy jitters.” I attempted to make light of things and didn’t do a very good job.
“Or whatever it is was listening and made a run for it.” His words held grimness. While I was grateful he believed me, we didn’t need to borrow trouble.
So far, we’d had the kitchens to ourselves, but our luck was certain to run out. Not that I didn’t enjoy the witches’ company, but I didn’t have time to burn on conversation. The creepy-crawly sensation was back. And so quickly, I felt certain it had never completely left. Whatever it was probably couldn’t penetrate the Celtic magic protecting these caves, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t lurking nearby.
I stood and gathered the residual magic still simmering around us into a travel spell.
Bjorn understood my intent and got to his feet. Together, we teleported to the open area outside the caves. It was full dark. I blew out a breath. In and among everything, I’d lost track of the passage of time.
“Two choices,” Bjorn said. “Either we go to Inverlochy and join the Celts. Or we just head for the underside of the Nine Worlds and do what we can.”
“What about the dragons?”
“If we wait for them, they’ll insist we pair off like we have been. Me on Quade and you on Zelli. That configuration doesn’t work where we’re going. You and I lose track of one another.”
“Something still doesn’t feel right.”
“Any idea what?” he asked, sounding so concerned and so tender some of my concerns faded. A little.
“I don’t know. We could wait for the dragons and tell them we’re traveling separately.”
“We could.” He took a step back. His face was illuminated by a stray beam from Arianrhod’s moon when it peeked between two thick, gray clouds. “Your call, Ro. What do you want to do?”
Why was this so hard? Normally, I didn’t have trouble selecting a path and riding it until it blew up in my face. Then I chose another. I’d never been invested in waiting for companions to support me, mostly because I’d never had access to such a luxury. I’d fought alone and fought well.
Riding the coattails of past successes, I said, “Let’s go. At least, we can look around. If we don’t like what’s there, we can always teleport back to Inverlochy.”
“I agree. Never been into decisions by committee.”
A snort blew past my lips. “Geez, for a second there, I was picturing you in a three-piece suit presiding over a meeting in a boardroom.”
“I may know what all those things are, but I’ve never owned such an article of clothing, and I’ve steered clear of human business dealings. They’re mostly so drenched in greed, they turn my stomach.”
“Know what you mean.” I rolled my shoulders back. “Let’s get this over with. I don’t like that place, and the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”
“We’ll take Bifrost to Niflheim and teleport from there. It will take a bit longer, but it also offers us the advantage of stealth. We’ll be more effective creeping up on our target than if we just pop out in the void.”
I took his hand and laced my magic with his to bind us together. “Ready when you are.”
We walked through darkness to a point about a kilometer away. Far enough to figure out if anyone was tracking us with magic. “Seems safe enough to punch through to the bridge,” I ventured.
“Aye. Either they’re slow to react to changes in our position—”
“Or nothing was there to begin with,” I mumbled. “I like Door Number Two better.”
“So do I.” The air crackled with his power, and a gilt-edged gateway formed.
“Fancy.” I trotted through.
He followed on my heels. “And unexpected. I didn’t do anything differently, yet the gateway seemed to be bleeding off excess magic.”
I waited for Bifrost to steal my will, but apparently the Rainbow Bridge was done fucking with me. Markers flashed by. It was tempting to stop in Vanaheim and take refuge in Bjorn’s cottage with his books and scrolls. Maybe we’d have a chance to stop there on the return leg.
“Quick detour,” Bjorn announced as we neared Vanaheim.
“What for?” My previous longing to take refuge in his cottage returned in force.
“A couple of blades. I had the damned things forged, and we may need them.”
A gateway formed, much plainer than before. We stepped through. Power bubbled around Bjorn just before two blades—one long, the other short—materialized on the ground next to him.
“Elegant,” I commented.
“Pfft. Necessary. If we went home—to my home, that is—we’d be tempted to stay for a while.” He buckled the sword belt and sheath into place and rekindled his portal.
“You must have read my mind,” I told him. “About wanting a respite—from everything.”
“Not a good idea. Time seems to be running short.”
Something about hearing the words out loud breathed life into them. Made them truer than they’d have been otherwise. I followed him back onto Bifrost.
“One. Two. Three,” Bjorn counted off markers. Power arced from his fingertips, and another portal formed. The incessant chill of Niflheim blasted me even before I was fully out of the bridge’s controlled environment.
“I remember this part,” I said.
“Tough to forget,” he agreed.
“Last time I was through here, I was with Zelli. She’s kind of like a bake oven, and it was welcome.”
“I bet.” He made a snorting sound. “Perhaps not bringing the dragons was shortsighted.”
A hasty scan told me we weren’t all that far from a cave where I’d once taken refuge. “Shall we take the same route I did when Hel aided me?” I asked, wanting to get moving before I turned as frosty as the icicles and snowy groun
d stretching around us. Did the trees ever leaf out? Or was it perpetual winter here just like in Jotunheim?
“What a lovely surprise,” Hel’s rich contralto brought my head whipping around.
She was wrapped in thick skins, fur side turned in. Serpents glided by her side. Two huge, black cobra-esque snakes clung to her much like guard dogs would have except their tongues flicked in and out scenting the chilly air.
“Not a social call,” Bjorn told his mother. “Please. Show us the quickest route through Yggdrasil’s roots.”
Hel turned her dark gaze my way and scoured me from head to toe. “The child is growing.”
“They do that.” I’d begun to shiver. “Would the path you led us along the other day work best?”
A corner of Hel’s mouth turned downward. “Och, all business, then. Perhaps the friendlier parts can happen later. Why do ye wish to traverse the One Tree’s roots?”
I was cold, my patience thin. “Everyone has a different approach to dealing with the unknown threat to the Nine Worlds,” I said. “If part of the problem is the alien forms floating beneath us, we can eliminate them. Might help. Might not. Right now, we’re playing a game of exclusion. Eventually, we’ll kill off the right element.”
“Och, child. It could take centuries.” Hel’s gimlet gaze was still glued to me.
“If you’ve a better idea, let’s hear it,” Bjorn urged.
Hel tossed her head back and laughed. Once she got hold of herself, she said, “Dinna take you long to seize your power.”
“We don’t have time for this,” I spoke up. “If we tarry too long, the dragons will show up, and then we’ll have another argument to address.”
“I wondered where they were. Regardless, I shall come with you,” Hel said.
“We didn’t ask you along,” Bjorn retorted.
“If I let that stop me, I’d never leave Niflheim.” She shrugged. The exposed bones on one side of her body clinked together.
“Can we get moving?” Cold seeped through the frozen world into the heart of me, stripping me of the will to do much of anything. I remembered my first trip here all too well. The soothing effect of Hel’s magic had eroded my determination to find a way out. It aided her keeping the dead in line, but it also made the living stop caring what the fuck happened next.
“I propose a journey to the borderworld where Cadir lived once he escaped the dragons’ exile,” Hel said.
“Why there?” Bjorn asked.
“’Tis a logical spot for the origins of whatever is attacking the Nine Worlds.” Hel blew out a breath. “Someone had to monitor the spell. Just because Cadir is dead and Loki imprisoned, the enchantment could still be there. We willna know unless we go and see for ourselves.”
Interesting she didn’t refer to Loki as Father. “Have you, um, spoken with Loki?” I asked.
“Ha! I wasna speaking with him afore this mess, and I certainly am not now.” She shook a bony finger my way. “He will escape, and sooner rather than later. Father is wise and shrewd. He will bribe someone or cast them into a deep sleep. The moment he no longer has eyes on him, he will be gone. If he isn’t already.”
“What do you think?” Bjorn asked me.
I wrapped my arms around myself and sent magic to warm my frozen feet. “How do you know where Cadir holed up?” I asked Hel and netted her in a truth spell, beyond caring if it pissed her off. I was over arrogant deities who assumed they could make their own rules.
Rather than snarling at me, she didn’t miss a beat. “I shall cast a blood spell. Not too many borderworlds in that vicinity, and I’m wagering Loki only visited Cadir’s.”
Her reply pinged cleanly off my casting. I reeled it in and said, “I’m game.”
“Me too,” Bjorn agreed. “Might be a better idea than our original one.”
Hel nodded solemnly. “Odin has been through here several times. He traverses the roots, examines the damage, and grumbles about how much thicker the alien magic has grown.”
“What?” I took a step back. “Does that mean he can’t get rid of those gray things?”
“He’s tried,” Hel clarified. “He wipes them out. The next day, more of them are back.”
“Mmph. He might have said something when we were all assembled in Valhalla,” Bjorn grumbled.
“Indeed. At least sending groups to the outer borderworlds makes more sense now,” I said.
“Odin has never been particularly forthcoming. About anything. I shall transport us,” Hel said.
Bjorn wrapped a hand around her upper arm. “We shall blend our power…Mother.”
“Ye doona trust me.”
“Why should I?” he countered. “Were our situations reversed—”
She chopped a hand downward. “Stop.” Bending, she petted the snakes’ heads and spoke to them in a perversion of Old Norse. They turned and glided off across the ice just as she’d instructed.
“Such darlings.” She beamed after them. “They’re Jormungand’s sons.”
It took me a moment to identify the name. He was the World Serpent and Hel’s brother. Fenrir, the wolf, had been the third child in that family. I shielded my thoughts. I hadn’t grown up in the worst family in the world, after all. Having Loki for a father and a snake and a wolf for siblings couldn’t have been a ball of laughs.
No wonder my brand new mother-in-law was tough as an old buffalo hide.
Enchantment blasted me from all sides. At least it held warmth. For once, I looked forward to the void between worlds. Grasping my onyx amulet, I instructed it to concentrate air, so I’d have something to breathe once the ice-shrouded gloom of Niflheim fell away.
Chapter Eight, Bjorn
Hel nailed it when she accused me of not trusting her. I didn’t. Not as far as I could see her, but perhaps she was on the right track with this particular decision. Her magic slotted with mine creating something stronger than the two of us working alone. It wasn’t as pronounced as when Rowan and I teamed up, though.
Probably because we brought complementary power to the table, whereas Hel and I were shooting from the same pond.
I’ve never cared for the void between the worlds. No one in their right mind would embrace the sense of nothingness. I kept an arm firmly around Rowan and did a few spot checks of our trajectory. We were heading in the correct general direction.
Where I could maybe see Hel playing tricks on me, she wouldn’t wager something that might injure her only grandchild. She was lonely. Even though she had a seat at Valhalla’s table, she’d always been on the outs with the other gods. No matter what they said to her face, her appearance was unsettling enough, they didn’t seek her out. She’d risked a lot getting pregnant with me. Nidhogg’s undying enmity for one thing. Except by the time she got around to confessing, so much time had passed it was almost a non-issue.
Because Nidhogg liked me.
If I’d turned into an enemy, the outcome might have been quite different. At least until our half-dragon child came to light. Regardless of how he felt about me, Nidhogg was certain to welcome another dragon into the fold. And then it dawned on me that I was another dragon too. It was a big mouthful to swallow because I didn’t feel any different. My magic was stronger, but everything else was pretty much the same.
We floated through darkness so absolute, not a flicker of light broke the vista. I sensed Hel and Rowan. If I dug a bit deeper, I could feel our baby’s energy—and his magic. When I looked through my psychic view, I could see all of them, but my Earth eyes had checked out.
I expected this trip to last a while, but gray edges formed. At first I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me, but after I blinked a few times and they didn’t go away, I figured we were closing on something.
“Goes quicker with you,” I told Hel.
“Och, and ye sound surprised. I doona like it out here. Breathing is high on my list.”
I wanted to ask if she’d had success tracking Loki, but I could have finessed the same blood tracking as her
. Knowing I had Loki’s blood made me squirm, and more than a little. Even before I met him, I’d hated him with an instinctual loathing that popped up at the sound of his name. Hel was correct. He would escape. If history was any predictor, Odin would let him go without the fanfare of trying to track him down.
I didn’t blame him. Keeping Loki corralled was more trouble than it was worth, but if the Nine Worlds ever failed my money was on Loki standing behind its collapse. And capering and laughing and being his usual dickish self.
The next time my lungs ran through their reflexive efforts to breathe, they captured some air. The gray edges were lifting.
“Almost there,” Hel said, sounding tense. Did she know something she hadn’t shared?
“You okay?” I asked Rowan.
She nodded. I felt the motion against my shoulder and wrapped the thickening air around us to cushion our descent. Who knew what this place would look like? I’d seen borderworlds as lush and verdant as tropical islands and others that were a lot like Fire Mountain. Every iteration in between existed too.
Hel forged a path through a forest canopy. The world smelled fresh and pure. In a bid to discover what else lived here, I sent power arcing outward.
“I already checked,” Rowan said. “Birds. Small animals. Nothing much bigger than a raccoon, although they don’t look the same here.”
We rolled out onto soft, spongy ground. I heard the sound of rushing water not too far away. Hel was nodding to herself. “’Tis as I expected. Loki’s feel is all over this place. Cadir too.”
“Of all the people to end up related to,” I muttered.
She made a rude, snorting noise. “Och. Try living in the same household. Mother took the three of us and made a run for Jotunheim. ’Tis where we were raised.”
“Your mother is Angrboda, right?” Rowan asked. “Sorry, my knowledge of the Norse pantheon isn’t all that swift.”
“Aye, ’tis Mother’s name. And we were grateful the giants took us in. Loki is universally hated, but there was still a huge discussion about what to do. To hear Mother tell it, we slid under the gate by a couple of votes.”