Odin's Child

by Siri Pettersen

  “So you accept the fact that I’m here? And you’re actually willing to talk to me? That’ll be a story for the ages. But then, there are so many to choose from! Let me see … The story about my parents? Now that is a story!” Rime was unrecognizable. Fuming. “Pure fiction! They wanted to escape, Ilume And they died. How did they die, Ilume-madra? Are you going to tell me, or should I assume I’m right?”

  Ilume shut her eyes for a moment. “Would you accept any answer other than the one you already think you have?”

  “Hardly, Grandmother. I can’t think of a single reason to believe you.”

  “Very few can. That’s why we need the Seer.”

  “He doesn’t exist!”

  “THAT DOESN’T MAKE HIM ANY LESS IMPORTANT!”

  It was the first time Hirka had seen Ilume break out of her stone pillar. She was starting to unravel, just like her grandson.

  “You’re unbelievable! All of you, unbelievable!” Rime clutched his head and started to walk in circles. “You defend a seer who … who never existed. And you act like I’m blasphemous when I point it out. You’re lying! Lying to the world. Saying there’s salvation when all there is … is this!”

  “So you can understand why—”

  “Why?! So you can cling to the same rotten power you’ve always had. Like scavengers! And to keep others from joining the party, you kill their Might before they turn sixteen!”

  Even though she was standing some distance away, Hirka could see that Ilume was surprised that Rime knew. This was unobtainable knowledge. Nobody would have told him this, and nobody would have written it down. But then, he never would have known without the help of a condemned child of Odin. A tailless girl who could feel the Might in others.

  “You’re killing the Might! Even though you know the blind are here, and that the Might could be the only way people can protect themselves! But it must be generations since anyone could put it to any use whatsoever. Why is that, Ilume? Hm? Haven’t you been complaining that it’s been ages since anyone has shown the slightest indication of affinity for the Might? You’ve wiped out the Might and now you’re complaining that it’s gone! You take …” Rime shifted and moved his sword into his other hand. “You take something that doesn’t belong to you. Something nobody can own. Because it’s the only thing that justifies the twelve families still sitting around the table. Around … Him!”

  Rime laughed—a terrifying laugh—while he pointed up at the center of the tree. “That’s why Mother left you, wasn’t it? She came to you for help. To get justice when Ramoja was raped! And you said no. But Mother wouldn’t leave it alone. Isn’t that what happened? She wanted to talk with the Seer Himself. Like I wanted to. So she came here. She knew that it would be the death of her, discovering that He wasn’t here, so she fled.”

  Ilume’s entire countenance had changed while Rime spoke. She smiled sadly. “Nothing I can say will make it better,” she said. “Nothing will make you understand. Because you’ve never seen things the way I see them. The world is different in your eyes. It’s the Might that the blind crave. Limiting the Might in the world keeps people safe. Giving people a seer is not a lie, but a gift. They need something to follow, and they’ve followed Him for a thousand years. Do we have the right to take Him from people? I have paid dearly so that people still have a seer. More than you know.”

  Rime stared at her, wide-eyed. “You’re … you’re proud?”

  “Rime …”

  “YOU’RE PROUD?!”

  “The Seer has taught us that—”

  “THE SEER DIES TODAY!”

  Hirka could feel the Might rippling out from Rime. It washed over her, and she heard the ravens cooing in delight behind her. She had to stop Rime. He had raised his sword and was running toward the tree, screaming. A wounded wolf.

  “RIME!”

  Hirka ran through the door, just in time to see sword sing against stone. Everything went quiet. The blade was lodged in the tree. Rime pulled it out and went to take another swing. Then the trunk cracked. The crack continued up into all the branches with a crackle, and they fell to the floor, shattering on the patterned tiles. A black, razor-sharp cloud rained down on them. Hirka crouched down and shielded her head with her arms.

  “Rime!”

  It was quiet again, except for the screaming of the ravens in the adjoining room. Hirka looked up. The tree was gone. A broken stump was all that remained. The floor was covered in black stone.

  Rime stood with his head bowed. His chest rose with every breath. His sword hung loosely at his side.

  Ilume stared at Hirka. Her eyes were wider than normal. She had a strange smile on her lips.

  Something’s wrong.

  “Hirka?” Her voice was hoarse. Inquisitive. A drop of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. She was hurt! Hirka took a step toward her, but then Ilume’s knees gave out and her body slumped to one side.

  Behind her stood Urd.

  Ilume was lying in an impossible position, her eyes locked on Hirka. There was a knife sticking out of her back. “Kol … kagga,” she gasped. Then the light disappeared from her eyes.

  Urd had a crazed look about him that made Hirka stay where she was. She glanced at Rime, but he hadn’t looked up. He had lost the leather strips holding his ponytail in place. His white hair hung down and hid his face. She could see him opening and closing his fingers around the hilt of his sword.

  Urd took a careful step back toward the door. And another. Another. He started to laugh. His laughter turned into a gurgling. He coughed and grabbed the collar around his neck. He stared at Rime.

  “And they say there’s no Seer! You’ve just made that impossible. Broken into the most sacred of sacred places. Helped me do away with my only opponent in Eisvaldr. Dumped the tailless girl right back in my lap, as if on command. And you’ve uncovered the one secret that means they’ll never let you live. Your parents’ blood didn’t save them and it won’t save you either.” Urd had reached the doors. “It’s almost too easy. The son of a traitor becomes a traitor himself. In league with the child of Odin, he breaks into the Seer’s hall in an attempt to kill Him. He fails, but kills Ilume. I couldn’t have asked for more than this. To me, you are a seer, Rime An-Elderin!”

  Rime looked up. His eyes were narrow slits. “You can’t risk us telling them what we know about you, Urd,” he said through clenched teeth. “You can’t risk us being captured.” Rime approached him, very slowly, as if Urd was prey he didn’t want to frighten off.

  “Ah, it’s like looking in a mirror, An-Elderin. I can see it in your eyes. I felt exactly the same. It’s like losing all hope, and all obstacles, isn’t it? Right now you have no higher power, and no savior.” Urd spoke as though he was enjoying himself. He grabbed the doors. Rime raced toward him.

  “Fight me! Kill me! You have no other choice!”

  “You’re Kolkagga. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  Urd went through the doors and they slammed behind him. Rime brought his palm down on them hard, but they didn’t budge. He searched the walls feverishly for a mechanism.

  “Rime, it’s too late!” Hirka heard Urd call for the guardsmen on the other side of the door. Distant shouts were heard. Soon they’d be surrounded. “Rime, listen to me!” She seized hold of him. His eyes were burning with rage. He breathed in gasps, from the top of his chest. He looked at her without seeing her. “It’s too late. They’re crossing the bridge. We have to get out of here.”

  “Out? There’s no way out of here, Hirka. There are no better swordsmen and archers than the guardsmen of Eisvaldr. We’re already dead.”

  “Not yet!” She held his face in her hands and looked up at him. “Rime, you have to wake up. We’re still alive!”

  Rime closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked half dead. Exhausted, but awake. His eyes alighted on Ilume’s motionless body. They could hear footsteps on the bridge outside, far too many of them. Metal shoes striking the stone. Hirka dragged Rime with her into the rav
en room.

  “They’ll pick us off with arrows, Hirka …”

  “Not if they can’t see us! Come!” Hirka started to climb up toward the ceiling. Rime followed her. The guardsmen stormed into the other room. They heard the crunching of shattered stone. Someone slipped and swore. From somewhere she heard Urd shouting what had happened. About the murder they had committed. He shouted that the Seer was safe, but that the outlaws had to pay.

  She climbed higher and higher with Rime at her heels. The ravens cawed around them. She waited for the right moment. It would work. It had to work. The guardsmen forced their way into the ravenry, and she knew that a hail of arrows was coming at any second. She filled her lungs and shouted for all she was worth.

  “ARKA! ARKA! ARKA!”

  She screamed the way Kuro had screamed when they were attacked by the great eagle near Ravnhov. The simplest word had a lifesaving effect. The ravens went berserk. They screamed like mad things and flew in circles around the room to chase an enemy that didn’t exist.

  Hirka looked down. The guardsmen were barely visible through the flurry of black wings. Two arrows struck the wall below them, but no more were fired. She could hear arguing over the ravens’ shrieks. Someone gave an order to stop shooting. You didn’t kill ravens unless you wanted to be killed yourself. Not in Eisvaldr. But surely this was an exception? After all, the outlaws were getting away.

  The moral dilemma below bought Hirka and Rime enough time to reach the roof hatches. The draft was coming from the other side of the room. The closest hatch was shut. Hirka sent silent thanks to the Seer that she’d always been able to see well in the dark, but then she remembered that He didn’t exist. She tried to undo a hasp, but it had been a long time since the hatch had been opened. She had to kick it out before she could crawl out onto the roof. Rime followed.

  A volley of arrows hit the ceiling beneath them. The moral dilemma had obviously been solved. One of the arrows continued through the hatch, past them, and into the sky. She felt a blow to her back. For a moment she thought she had been shot, but she felt no pain. She glanced back. The arrow was sticking out of her rucksack. Rime pulled it out and stared at it.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  Hirka looked at him and waited for the Might. Rime shook his head like a sweaty dog. Not to say no, but to clear his head. He sheathed his sword, put his arm around Hirka, and bound the Might. Then they jumped off the roof and into the darkness.

  URD’S CONQUEST

  Urd hadn’t had long to think, but he had used the time well. The night had presented him with a gift of dimensions he’d never have thought possible. Almost too good to be true. He had to strike while the iron was hot. How he handled the events would determine his fate. It was that simple. Would the Council stand with or against him? Was this the night he would finally get free rein? Become the man who took them to new heights? The conqueror.

  Urd had dumped Ilume’s lifeless body in the middle of the table in the Council Chamber. She was still warm. The blood had soaked through her robes, staining them red. Ten pale figures sat around him. Silent. Paralyzed.

  Ilume’s chair was empty. Eir sat in the next chair over, crying onto Jarladin’s shoulder. Magnificent. Truly magnificent. She was the Ravenbearer, yet here she was, crying like a child. That was all he needed to win tonight. She had no fight left in her. Her will was broken.

  Jarladin An-Sarin stared at Ilume. His gaze had lost the steadiness it usually had, and if anything, the ox’s nostrils were flaring even more than usual. Leivlugn Taid did as expected: closed his eyes and shook his head. The eldest man on the Council was useless to him. Noldhe Saurpassarid had dispensed with her foolish grin for once. Her tears fell freely and unashamedly. Sigra Kleiv? Urd wouldn’t have believed it possible for her to be any uglier, but the angular and mannish woman clearly didn’t take well to being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night. She pressed her forehead against her folded hands. The rest of them stared at the body with a mixture of distaste and grief. Only Garm Darkdaggar’s eyes rested on Urd. Keen and curious.

  Urd searched for the emotion he wanted to stir in them. He held onto it and got up. He brought his fist crashing down on the table. He had their attention. He raised his fist again, opened it, and let black shards of glass spill out across the tabletop. He squeezed his hand around the final pieces so they cut into his palm. He kept his head bowed and squinted through half-closed eyes until he saw the blood fall from his hand and hit the table. Only then did he drop the final pieces.

  “I have failed you. This is … all because of me.” He spoke with a tremor in his voice. He had to start unsteadily. So he could show these mightless ymlings how to pick themselves back up again. Something none of them had mastered.

  He heard Miane Fell’s awkward voice. “Urd, my dear … This isn’t your fault.” Urd hid a smile. He couldn’t have asked for better puppets. He raised his eyes and looked at her. Looked at them all. “This is entirely my fault! I wanted to spare the embling. To postpone her sentencing. If I had acted differently, Ilume might …” He closed his eyes as if in pain before continuing. “Ilume might still be alive. My lack of experience has gotten us into this mess. Plunged us into darkness. I haven’t slept a wink since the embling killed three of our own and disappeared. I’ve been wandering these halls, seeking a solution. When I saw the open doors tonight, I knew something was wrong. And when I heard the tree shatter …”

  He opened his eyes again and saw how they were hanging on his every word.

  “And there was nothing I could do! Nothing! I’m new in this circle. I looked up to Ilume. Trusted her wisdom. Her doubts about me were plain for all to see, and that cut me deep, but I’d promised myself I’d make her proud of me one day. Only for her to be killed by one of her own blood! The grandson who refused his place and turned his back on all of us, Kolkagga included.”

  He knew the time was right. The grief was clawing at all of them. Their helplessness was palpable. Blood ran in a rivulet from Ilume’s back toward his name in the tabletop. The letters were soon outlined in red.

  He straightened up.

  “But I’m not the type to run like a dog with its tail between its legs when I am faced with opposition. I’m my father’s son! I am to blame for the indescribable injustice that we have suffered. And I promise you: I will fix it. I have informed Kolkagga of what has happened. But I also intend to make use of my family’s resources. My guard and I will all go out and find the murderers before they can do more wrong. Before they share the knowledge they now have. This Council will prevail if it costs me everything I have. If it’s the last thing I do.”

  Urd felt warm satisfaction spread through his body as he watched Jarladin well up. He had Jarladin! That meant he had them all. He had to leave. At once, while he still had the upper hand. And before anyone could stop to think or discuss anything. He turned away from them and headed for the door. Then he stopped and looked back at them again.

  “I suggest that you continue with the Rite as of tomorrow. I’ll be back when our position is secured.” He reached for the door.

  “Urd …”

  It was Jarladin’s voice. Urd smiled before replying. “Yes, fadri?” He added the honorific even though that was unusual among peers. It left a foul taste in his mouth, but it would serve him now. A sign of humility. Respect.

  “I was wrong about you. I apologize.”

  Urd waited a beat before answering. He didn’t turn around. “Your mistake is nothing compared to mine.” He left the room as the most powerful man in the world. The Council would be preoccupied by the Rite. He was excused from participating. He had complete control of Kolkagga. And most importantly: of Rime and that tailless wretch.

  BEYOND SALVATION

  Blindból. Lair of the blind. It would be hard to find a more appropriate name. They had fumbled their way through it in the darkness until Hirka had asked Rime to stop. She’d said it was because she was exhausted. Said they had to seek shelter before the storm set
in. That much was true, but it was actually an excuse to get Rime to calm down. He was shaking. They couldn’t continue with him like this.

  The night was charged with the Might. Intense. Expectant. Hirka could feel it in every fiber of her being. A tingling under her skin. An ache in her veins. They were sitting high up on the mountainside, on one of the many fingers of the gods. Like castaways hoping to remain unfound. A foolish hope, because they had far to go. There was only one place to go, now that Eisvaldr would chase them to the end of the world. Now that nothing could be like before. They had to get to Ravnhov through Blindból.

  There was no alternative, but Rime had taken some convincing. Five days—maybe more—through Kolkagga territory, without being seen? The only hope they could cling to was that it would be the last place Kolkagga would look for them.

  Hirka hugged her knees, trying to keep warm. In front of her, Kuro sat on a branch that twisted over the cliff edge. He was always there when she needed him most. A taunting reminder of the Seer who no longer existed.

  Suddenly the Might flashed across the sky, and Hirka gave a start. Kuro just shook himself off and took a few steps closer to the tree trunk. The spruce needles looked sharp in the dark. She clung to the idea that they were like tiny spears. That nothing could get past this tree, to reach her and Rime. Foolish thoughts, but she had made peace with the fact that the mind did foolish things to survive. You believed what you had to believe, under the circumstances.

  Again she pictured the light going out in Ilume’s eyes. Heard her words.

  I have paid dearly so that people still have a seer.

  The jump from the Seer’s tower had cost Hirka a lot. The Might had been more unbridled than ever, a hunger eating away at her. She could still feel traces of it in her body, pulsating in her veins, colored by Rime’s incredible anger.

  He was sitting with his back against the rock that was sheltering them. Another flash of lightning lit up his face, but it faded quickly, leaving him in the dark again. Then came the thunder. Blindból raged. Soon they would be soaking wet.