by Eva Chase
That question hung in the air for the space of several heartbeats. A hint of a smile touched Hod’s face. “All right,” he said. “Supposing we don’t… Shall we come up with a few plans of our own?”
16
Aria
The spray of the vast waterfall tickled over my face and bare arms. I swooped lower, but the only figures I could make out anywhere nearby were a couple of kids a little older than Petey who were splashing their feet in the lake at the base of the torrent.
Thor was shaking his head when I soared up to meet him at the edge of the rushing river. “I’m not sure where else to look,” he said. “Njord ruled over the seas, so he has an affinity for water… If he’s not hanging around any of his favorite spots, he could be anywhere along the coastlines or major lakes.”
I motioned to the campsite we’d found, the stones around it marked with a few faded runes that Thor had said would have brought warmth overnight and repelled animal intrusions. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since he used that site?”
“The ashes from the firepit have been washed away by rain, and even the scorch marks on the rocks are worn down,” Thor said. “I’d guess at least a few years.”
I made a face. Thor and I had come down to Midgard to search out any of the gods who might be lingering there—Loki might have covered ground faster, but he’d pointed out that most of the gods wouldn’t exactly welcome the sight of him. So far, the thunder god and I hadn’t had much luck. This campsite was as close as we’d gotten to finding any of Asgard’s former residents.
“At least we know he was still around that recently,” I said, trying to look on the bright side. “You’d think they’d stop by their old home every now and then just to see how things are going.”
“Ah, we didn’t all part ways on the most favorable of terms,” Thor said. “After our return from Ragnarok, a lot of things changed. Marriages broke apart, friendships turned sour. The war rubbed most of us caught up in it pretty raw.”
“But not you?” I said with a lift of an eyebrow. I’d seen Thor conflicted now and then, but he’d never talked about that earlier war with the sort of horror I’d heard from the others.
He shrugged as he sent his lightning crackling over one of the stones with a message in case the sea god returned any time soon. You’re needed in Asgard.
“I fought as well as I could,” he said. “Our enemies were clear. I’d been in a lot more battles than any of the others except maybe Odin and Freya—and even they are just watching over the field as often as they’re on it.”
“You were in your element.”
He chuckled. “Something like that. And also, my death was brief, since it happened right at the end. I can’t begin to imagine how hard it was for those like Hod and Baldur who were left to linger in death so long.”
Even though those words were serious, that comment brought back my interlude with the twins in Valhalla yesterday—the heat of Baldur’s kisses, the caress of Hod’s hands, the moments when it’d felt as if we existed only for each other.
“I think they’re getting past that,” I said.
Thor shot me a knowing grin. “A little help never hurts.”
We set off over the landscape again, but our flight was more aimless now. I rubbed my arms as the wind buffeted my wings. “What do you think our chances are of just stumbling on any of them? Freya’s been searching for her daughter for days with no luck.”
“We’re doing everything we can,” Thor said. “At this point, we may have to rely on the messages we’ve left. I can’t believe none of them ever return to their favorite haunts anymore.”
“But they might not return before Surt decides to make his move.” How long could we afford to wait before we took him on by ourselves? Not even Odin admitted to knowing how large his army might be already. Even if the giant would have preferred to wait another decade to grow it larger, he had to be aiming to start his invasion as soon as possible now that his plans had been exposed.
“Whatever happens, we’ll put him down,” Thor said, but he frowned after he’d spoken.
He thought of a couple more spots for us to check: a mountainside hut from which Heimdall the gatekeeper had apparently liked to survey the realm of humankind and a stretch of apple farms where Idunn might have taken comfort. Neither turned up any godly presence. Thor etched his message here and there, his frown deepening.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “I think we should be returning to Asgard now.”
My body protested at the thought of giving up our search, but obviously we couldn’t count on the other gods being the solution to our problems. With a sigh, I swiveled toward the rainbow bridge.
We passed Heimdall’s former hall, an ivory structure that clung to the side of the cliff next to the bridge. “He used to spend all day sitting on his front step, watching who’d come and go,” Thor told me. “His eyes were as sharp as Loki’s. The two of them never got along all that well. Maybe because he always spotted what the trickster might be up to sooner than the rest of us.”
“At least Loki usually got you out of any trouble he got you into, right?” I said. And the gods had brought plenty of trouble down on Loki, too, not that any of them seemed to think of that most of the time.
“He did, he did. We’d have been much worse off without him. I believed that even before, in spite of everything. It was never as simple as hero or villain with him.”
Those words lingered with me after we’d reached the city. “Should we scrounge up some dinner?” Thor suggested, but my mind was already leaping ahead of me.
“I’ll grab some food later,” I said. “There’s something I want to check first.”
Thor studied me. “Do you need company?”
“There are a few things I can do without godly assistance,” I said, jabbing a finger at him with a smile to show I wasn’t offended. He laughed and waved me off.
I didn’t think he’d have seen me off that easily if he’d known exactly what I was planning on checking. I soared over to Valhalla and tucked my wings close to my back as I hurried down the length of the room. The one table was still askew where Baldur had leaned against it yesterday. I tugged my gaze away. I was interested in memories right now, but not my own.
The empty space around Yggdrasil closed against my skin as I stepped onto the bark-covered path. Sometimes the still blackness around it unnerved me. Today, there was something steadying about it. All the places I’d seen with Thor today, all those disappointments—they fell away as I walked with smooth strides along the trunk toward the branch that would lead me to Muspelheim. I paused at the base of that branch, breathing in slow and deep until my heart beat in an even rhythm. Then I pushed myself through the gate into the realm of fire.
Dodging the watchful dragon came instinctively now. I flattened myself under the sheltering ridge, waited until it had settled, and slipped away through the shadows. The heat of the realm penetrated even those dark patches, bringing sweat to my skin in a minute.
I hadn’t come here to spy this time, though. I wanted to be found—just not by any monsters with jagged teeth and talons.
When I’d left the dragon far enough behind, I ventured out onto the dry plain at the foot of the cliff. I kept my wings spread, providing me with a little shade. The silver-white glimmer would stand out against the dark gray rock. I ambled along, waiting for the prickle of that being-watched sensation.
I’d just reached the edge of one of those rivers of magma when the feeling came over me. I stopped, a thicker heat wafting up from the churning liquid with its pulsing red glow. Maybe I didn’t want to be standing quite this close to a substance that could mean my instant death for this conversation. I backed up a few steps and turned slowly.
My watcher was nowhere to be seen, but I’d expected that.
“Muninn,” I called out, loud enough for my voice to carry but not so loud I thought it would disturb the distant dragon. “I came to talk to you. Peacefully.” I held ou
t my arms, my hands open. No weapons except the switchblade always in my pocket, and I didn’t think the raven woman was all that scared of it.
The seconds slipped by with the trickle of a bead of sweat down my back. Had she said everything she’d wanted to last time? Maybe she didn’t like the idea of giving in when someone else was trying to call the shots.
I was debating my next moves when a black flutter appeared at the edge of my vision. My head jerked around.
Muninn landed as she transformed, her pale limbs steadying her on the ground with her usual awkward grace. She’d left several feet between us, as if she didn’t totally trust me not to lunge at her even with just my hands as weapons. If this had been right after we’d escaped from her prison, that would have been a reasonable fear.
She cocked her head. “What brings you here looking for me, valkyrie? I thought you had no interest in talking.”
I swallowed, my throat rough from the dry heat. “You told me things before that you wanted me to keep in mind. You were right. I was hoping you might know other information that you’d be willing to share.”
Her expression didn’t change, her dark eyes sharp, her lips curved with mild curiosity. “What sort of information?”
“You used to travel all over the realms with Odin and on your own, didn’t you?” I said. “I want to find the gods who’ve left Asgard. Maybe you’ve seen places where they liked to spend time that the others wouldn’t know about. Or you got ideas about where they might go from their memories.”
Muninn grimaced. “I have no interest in adding to Asgard’s numbers. If the gods wish to return, they can find their own way back.”
“We’ll have more options for setting things right if we have more of them on our side,” I said. “Isn’t that what you want?”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I had to stop myself from gritting my teeth. “Why did you tell me about the dark elves? Don’t you want us to fix what’s wrong with the other realms? How are we supposed to do that when we know Surt could be storming Asgard any day now?”
“I suppose that’s for you to figure out.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
Her near-black eyes stared back at me unwaveringly. My hands clenched. “I want to fix things. None of us wants to see the realms failing—well, I don’t know how Odin feels, but the rest of us will do whatever we can.”
A rasp of a laugh escaped her. “If Odin will let you, hmm?”
“He’s not my master,” I said, and she flinched.
“He isn’t mine anymore either,” she said, her shoulders shifting as if she were about to slide back into raven form. “If you want answers, he knows more than I do.”
“You know it’s not that simple.” I let out a sound of frustration and forced my voice to soften. “Please. Do you really want to see Midgard and Asgard burned down? You’re angry with Odin—I get it. I don’t like him all that much either. But he’s just one god.”
“The ruler of Asgard,” Muninn spat out. “The one whose orders you’ll all follow in the end.”
“No,” I said. “We won’t. Not if we have other ways. Are you looking to bring the realms back to how they’re meant to be, to stop whatever problems he caused, or is this just about getting revenge on him? Because if it’s the latter, you’re not really any better than him, are you?”
Muninn bristled. “You’re like him,” she said. “You push everyone else to do what you want, and where will that leave us in the end? With him still lording over all of us. He could never pay us back. Never. He’ll never admit or believe he’s done anything wrong. Deal with him, and then I’ll deal with you.”
She spun around and darted into the air with a rippling of black feathers. After a few flaps of her wings, she was nothing but a dark speck against the flat gray sky.
17
Loki
As hard as it sometimes was to believe, certain areas of the realm of giants were actually rather peaceful. The snowy mountains to the far north, for example, had been one of my favorite places to escape to long ago, before I’d come to Asgard, when the company of my supposed kin had grated on me too much. And this pine forest to the west, deeper into it than the realms inhabitants usually ventured—perhaps it was a relief to escape here from my godly oath-sworn kin too.
The breeze carried a crisp chill and the pines’ sharp scent. Fallen needles crinkled under my feet as I wandered the lonely landscape. To tell the truth, I’d been hoping to find it a little less lonely. The gods of Asgard might have disdained the company of giants, but they’d been more than happy to take advantage of Jotunheim’s more isolated corners when nowhere in Midgard appealed to them in their current mood. It had become increasingly difficult to find any part of the human realm that mortals hadn’t penetrated.
I found no sign of any recent passage here, though. The only evidence I’d come across was proof that my former home was succumbing to the same decline that Hod had reported from Nidavellir. Many of the pines were stooping, their trunks weakened by some ailment I didn’t recognize. The mountains, when I’d visited them earlier, had shaken once with an ominous tremor. I’d kept my distance from the towns and cities, but the dry earth and the constant chill despite it being summer made me wonder how well any crops were growing here.
It couldn’t hurt to leave a few signs of my own, on the off-chance Bragi meandered this way in the following weeks to find inspiration for a poetic verse, or Skadi came seeking that wintry chill. They might not have been overjoyed if they’d seen me, but I didn’t think they’d ignore an urgent call back to Asgard.
With a flick of my fingers, I inscribed a new message into the trunk of one of the wider pines. The tangy smoke tickled my nose. I turned to survey the forest, hesitating. I couldn’t think of any other secret places the gods might have declined to tell their real kin they liked to travel to, but the thought of returning to Asgard empty-handed didn’t sit well either.
No doubt Hod would have some snarky remark about where I might have gone. Or perhaps I’d find Thor had been searching for me again, wanting to make sure I hadn’t gotten myself into any trouble. If only they’d spent a little more time focusing on the real source of so much of our troubles…
I pushed that thought aside and set off toward the gate that had brought me through to Jotunheim. I had a lot of ground to cover. And I couldn’t say I enjoyed the thought of running into any of this realm’s inhabitants.
The forest gave way to scruffy tundra at the edge of the giants’ realm. Coarse tufts of grass sprouted here and there on the cracked earth, which was packed so hard my footsteps might have carried for miles if I’d let them touch the ground. Not that there was anyone around to hear my passage anyway. Or so I thought until a gravelly bellow called out to me.
“Sly One! I’ve been waiting for you.”
I whirled around, propelling a burst of flame into my hand. There were few who’d be looking for me here who wouldn’t be hoping for a fight, preferably one ending with my head on a pike.
The looming figure I found standing at the edge of the forest would have liked that, perhaps more than anyone.
Surt had always been a giant among giants. Even now, with the age that had finally started to catch up with him leaving his shoulders slightly hunched, he stood a few inches taller than my formidable height and nearly as broad as our Thunderer. His steel-gray hair hung lank above his glittering hazel eyes, his beard long and grizzled enough to rival Odin’s.
He held himself in what should have been a casual stance, his arms loosely crossed and his weight leaned to one side. My gaze couldn’t help catching on the broad sword he was gripping, though.
“Blazing One,” I replied, encouraging the flames to rise from my palm with a twitch of my fingers. “Are you looking for a good scorching?”
Surt chuckled, a low rough sound. “Feel free to try me,” he said. “My sword is always hungry for more.”
Yes, it was that damned sword I had to be most wary of. A fiery gleam leapt along its length even now. Anything I threw at Surt, it could absorb and spew back at me, now or some later even more inopportune time. My chances of felling this giant alone were slim. But then, so were his of felling me. I could speed away from here in an instant on my shoes of flight.
“What do you want then?” I demanded. “Why would you wait for me here of all places?”
“I have underlings watching every gate at my disposal,” Surt said. “One saw you emerge here from your realm. Your great tree won’t let me through to speak to you in Asgard, and your companions didn’t appear to take well to my attempt at a bridge. This seemed a better meeting spot.”
“Well done,” I said. “You’ve found me. I’m still waiting to hear the purpose of this ‘meeting.’”
Surt’s narrow eyes studied me for a long enough moment that my body tensed even further. “I think this meeting has been a long time coming,” he said. “Don’t you? Tell me, trickster, are you really all that satisfied with the choices you’ve made?”
“Perhaps you could be a little more specific,” I suggested. “I’d estimate I make verging on a thousand choices every day. My breakfast this morning was quite satisfying, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
His expression didn’t waver. He motioned to the landscape around us, his gaze still fixed on my face. “You left behind your home. Forsook your people for those shining ones of Asgard.” His teeth gnashed on that last word, as if he could chew it up and spit it out. “And what have they ever given you? Chains and poison? What a poor puppet you are, slinking back to them after you’d brought them to their knees.”
The “puppet” comment rankled. “It was my choice to remain there,” I said. “Clearly you know nothing about my life. If all you came to do is rant about events from eons ago, I’ll take my leave now.”
