Raven Magic

by Jennifer Willis

  Thor was again struck by the breadth of the siatco’s vocabulary, but he decided he’d ponder later where Nanitch had gotten his education. The ground shook violently beneath his feet again, and Thor bounced like a pinball off a few tree trunks in his battle to remain upright.

  “Dynamic stability,” Freyr muttered. “Just keep pushing forward.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Thor growled, then his face softened. He was supposed to be practicing patience and kindness. He relaxed his jaw. “Thanks.”

  Freyr gave him a quick nod.

  “I still fail to understand how these volcano spirits are my problem, exactly.” Thor jogged forward to catch up to Nanitch. “I mean, I understand the circumstantial evidence against me and my cousin here, being in the woods about the same time that this ruckus starts up.”

  Nanitch wheeled around to face Thor. “Ruckus? You think this is some game?”

  “Um, no, I’m guessing?”

  Nanitch glared down at Thor, and shot Freyr a dirty look for good measure. Then he lowered his head and sighed. “Whatever the cause, I may not be able to rectify this on my own. I need your help.”

  Thor cupped a hand behind one ear and leaned forward. “I’m sorry. What did you say? You need our help?”

  Freyr tried to rest a hand on Thor’s shoulder, but his hand passed through his cousin’s hulking frame and stuck out the middle of Thor’s ribcage. Freyr sighed in frustration. “Don’t be a jackass, Thor.”

  Thor ignored the ghost hand that had just passed through him, because the last thing he needed right then was a full-on, existential panic. He shrugged and looked up at Nanitch. “I apologize. That was uncalled for. Please consider that I’m as frustrated as you are right now, even if our reasons might be different.”

  Nanitch let his arms hang loosely at his sides and waited for Thor to continue.

  Thor scratched his head and winced at the tender knot on top of his skull where the siatco had pounded him. He pressed his fist to his lips against the all-too-familiar sensation of bile rising in his throat, and was relieved when the moment passed without incident.

  “This vision quest thing is a really big deal to my future in-laws. One in-law in particular. You see, I’m getting married this weekend—“

  Nanitch huffed and turned to continue through the forest. “Go, then, if such a personal matter is your priority. I will attempt to mend to this breach on my own. I simply never imagined that the peace would disintegrate on my watch.”

  Thor jogged after him. “Wait a minute. What?”

  Nanitch increased his pace. “When volcanoes get upset, they tend to blow their tops. Literally.”

  Thor dropped behind as they pressed through a tight clumping of trees. He caught a couple of switchbacks with his hands before they could lacerate his eyeballs. “You’re trying to prevent a volcano from erupting?”

  Nanitch made a weary sound of exasperation. He gestured in their direction of travel. “Not one, but three.” Then he nodded toward the forest behind him. “Four, if you count Brother Jonathan, who is probably just as culpable in this mess.”

  “So why not go talk to him?” Thor suggested.

  “He is consumed by passion.” Nanitch brushed away a low-hanging branch and held it for Thor to pass beneath. “He cannot be reasoned with.”

  “Sally,” Thor said. “You’re talking about Sally.”

  “That girl is our friend,” Freyr interrupted.

  “For that, you have my sympathy.” Nanitch kept his eyes forward. “Jonathan has her in his possession. And if the raging Sisters are any indication, I would surmise Jonathan has already taken her back to his mountain.”

  Thor grabbed Nanitch’s arm to bring him to a halt, or he tried to. Instead, the siatco dragged the thunder god along for a few paces, and then stopped.

  “But we can still rescue Sally, right?” Thor glanced back to Freyr for reinforcement but when he saw the bleak look in his cousin’s eyes, he felt the warmth run out of his own body.

  “Since I . . . arrived in this place,” Freyr began, “I have a keener understanding of how things work. I’m connected to this land and its history, going back before the time of the native tribes. Farther back than the First People.”

  Nanitch nodded solemnly.

  “I understand why the Sisters would be upset about Mt. Bachelor—Jonathan, whatever you want to call him—taking an interest in someone else. But you’re intimating that this volcano spirit wants to hurt Sally. And I’m not getting anything about human sacrifices to volcanoes in this area. It’s not in the geological record.”

  “You’re reading geological records, now?” Thor asked. “Just like that?”

  Freyr shrugged. “Apparently I’m bound to this place.”

  “You sound like a hippie.” Thor attempted a smile, but he found no takers. “And why can you walk on the ground with no trouble but when you try to touch a tree, your hand passes clear through?”

  Freyr shrugged. “Consult a quantum physicist.”

  With a labored exhalation, Nanitch sat down cross-legged in the dirt. “We cannot pause here long, but I will offer a succinct appraisal of the situation.” He nodded toward Thor. “And you must rest a moment.”

  Thor settled himself on the ground and shook his head. The siatco was better spoken than the All-Father and would no doubt make a heady addition to the Lodge’s fireside debates. He’d never known a wild creature to have discernible language, much less to communicate at an advanced level. Maybe Nanitch got a body wax before running into town for a copy of The New York Times to catch up on current events and work the crossword? The thought struck Thor’s funny bone, and he had to bite back a chuckle.

  “Thank you.” Thor coughed as he leaned back against a tree and tried to get comfortable.

  “The volcanoes in this region, I would imagine, have their resident spirits. These are not ethereal beings from another plane who occasionally glance our way, but spirits who are closer to the earth and to the dramas of life. They have strong personalities. They suffer jealousies and rages, which threaten the valleys below.”

  “Volcanic eruptions kill,” Thor said.

  Nanitch nodded. “Sometimes it is necessary for life. Many islands find their genesis in volcanic activity. An eruption may burn down whole forests, but the ash enriches the soil and spurs a new cycle of life. But then the human beings settled here. The people nurtured the earth. They lived gently. They were conscientious and caring. My people could not abide the human beings being so vulnerable to the petty bickering of the mountain spirits.”

  “Your people?” Thor asked.

  “Our lore says the Great Spirit fashioned us out of tree trunks and clay, so that we might guard the forests and protect the human beings from harm.”

  Freyr whistled through his teeth. “That’s a far cry from the Bigfoot conspiracy theories.”

  “There is nothing I can do—nothing I care to do, without jeopardizing my charge—to correct that.” Nanitch turned to Thor. “And I am not a creature for you to hunt down and claim as a prize.”

  “No, I didn’t mean . . .” Thor stammered, but the siatco waved him off.

  “The Sisters are angry. Jonathan has chosen a human girl over all three of them, each one a beauty and a fearsome power in her own right. They have long vied for Jonathan’s attention. Each has schemed against her sisters across the ages to secure a marriage, to no avail.”

  The ground shook again, but not as violently as before. Nanitch waited for the tremor to pass.

  “Your friend must be a unique human being to have lured Jonathan from his peak.”

  Thor ran a hand over his face. He couldn’t imagine the Rune Witch being so foolish as to attempt volcano magick—if there was such a thing—especially on her own in the middle of the wilderness. But given the near-calamities that seemed to follow in the girl’s wake, he had to accept that anything was possible. His empty and quarrelsome stomach ached, and now he felt as though he’d swallowed a cold stone. He looked
to Freyr. “Sally wouldn’t, would she?”

  Freyr thought for a moment. “If she’s the reason I’m here, and if she tapped into the energies of the earth, in this place, to make that happen . . . I mean, the girl woke freaking Badbh by accident.”

  “Jonathan will have put his mark on her when claiming her as his bride,” Nanitch interrupted. “Then he will commit her to his lava bed.”

  Thor’s face brightened. “But it’s a dead volcano, right? So no lava. Sally’s okay! We’ll just need to figure out how to get her back.”

  “I think you need to pay another visit to the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry,” Freyr said.

  Nanitch laughed. It was the first sign of mirth Thor had seen in him.

  “Lava still flows beneath Mt. Bachelor,” Nanitch said.

  A dark thought occurred to Thor. He struggled to push it away, but it would not be denied. He looked to Freyr and guessed his cousin was wondering the same thing.

  “If Jonathan succeeds in his plan, wouldn’t that put an end to the Sisters’ threat?” Thor asked. “Not that that’s what I’m hoping for, for Sally’s sake. But the land and all the people, they’d be safe, right? If Sally has already been sacrificed?”

  Nanitch shook his large head. “The Sisters have still been scorned. They will vent their wrath either way.”

  Thor grimaced and exhaled loudly. He should have known there was no way Sally’s immolation would be for the greater good. And there was no reason to be sitting on his haunches in the dirt if there was a chance he could stop it. If Nanitch was right—and Freyr seemed to confirm his story—then everything in Central Oregon and possibly much farther beyond was at risk. The forests and rivers, all the people and cities, even Odin’s Lodge, Maggie’s Grove of sacred apples, and the well she had been digging.

  Thor climbed to his feet, then was nearly knocked down again when another low rumble shook the ground. “So what are we doing sitting around here!” he shouted over the quake. He found his balance and made an attempt at yanking Nanitch to his feet.

  “Hmph,” came a chillingly familiar voice behind him. “You found the siatco. Perhaps you’re not so useless.”

  Thor turned and found himself face to face with Bonnie’s grandmother. The old woman looked just as stern and ready to rumble as ever. In his surprise at seeing Grace and then spying both Odin and Rod behind her, it took a moment for Thor to recover the closest thing he had to manners. He dipped his head. “Uh, Mrs. Red Cliff.”

  Rod stepped out from behind Grace and looked ready to offer a friendly greeting, when the handyman’s eyes went wide. Nanitch had climbed to his feet and stood beside Thor.

  “Holy . . . !” Rod exclaimed, mouth agape. He pointed at the siatco and stuttered. “That’s . . . That’s . . .”

  Odin moved forward and extended his hand. “Nanitch.”

  The siatco nodded as the two grasped each other’s wrists. “All-Father. You are most welcome in this quest.”

  Sally heard one last, desperate shriek, and then everything fell silent.

  She was certain she’d passed out. She tried to lift her head from the grass, wet with her tears and blood. Her bones throbbed as though someone had taken a tire iron to the back of her skull. She mewled pitifully on the ground as every muscle in her body protested against the tiniest movement.

  “I can’t,” she muttered as drool slid down her chin. She continued to struggle against Jonathan’s hold. “I won’t . . .”

  Her eyes flashed open. The song was gone.

  Sally swallowed hard and winced at the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Slowly and carefully, she rolled onto her back and shielded her eyes against the bright afternoon sun. She felt more than heard the approaching footsteps, and she didn’t move when the man’s shadow fell over her. What was the point? She didn’t have the strength to sit up, much less to flee.

  “It’s over,” he said. “You’re safe now.”

  Sally startled at the voice. This was the intruder who had attacked Jonathan, and she almost laughed when she recognized him. The cavalry had come to her rescue after all.

  “Fenrir.” She looked up into the Randulfr’s dark face. It had been years since she’d last seen him, but his was a face and form not soon forgotten. She tried to wipe away the snot and the grass stuck to her cheeks as Fenrir knelt to help ease her into a sitting position.

  “We have to stop meeting like this.” Her voice was fire in her throat. She tried to laugh but ended up coughing and spitting blood instead.

  “Don’t talk.” Fenrir sat beside her and let her lean her body into the warmth and strength of his. “You’re hurt.”

  Sally closed her eyes and wept as he ran his hands over her head and down her arms and legs, searching for obvious injuries. The bone-cracking vibrations of Jonathan’s song had vanished, but her body still screamed in residual pain. Sally gritted her teeth and tried not to cry out at every touch.

  “My boots,” she whispered. Jonathan must have put them back on her feet before bringing her here. “And socks. Off.”

  She leaned forward over her knees as Fenrir worked to remove her boots as gently as possible. Still, Sally groaned with every jostling movement.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to cause you pain.”

  Sally tried to shake her head, but the motion made her feel like her skull was about to splinter. “It’s okay,” she rasped. Her throat was raw and dry, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to swallow hot coals.

  Once her feet were bare, Fenrir placed her soles flat on the grass. Sally breathed a sigh of gratitude when he seemed to understand what she was after.

  Fenrir pressed his furry palms against the tops of her feet. “Make your connection.”

  She tried to take a deep breath and felt a few ribs crack in response. She groaned, and Fenrir held her feet more firmly to the ground.

  Gaia, Sally called silently. You brought me this rescuer. You helped save me. I don’t know if I have the right to ask for anything more, but I sure could use some of your strength now.

  The ground beneath her was still, and Sally started trying to calculate how long it might take an emergency crew to get to her in the forest, assuming Fenrir could even tell anyone where she was. She didn’t think her prospects were too good. But then a gentle tingling stirred along the soles of her feet, almost tickling her bare skin.

  “Thank you,” Sally whispered through hot tears as she rested her palms on the ground. The Earth’s warmth shot up through her fingers and ankles, wrapping tendrils of hot pressure around bruised muscles and broken bones. Sally expected soothing relief, but she got more pain instead. She cried out as the energy reached into her chest and expanded into her head.

  “Sally?” Fenrir’s hands were on her shoulders. She could tell he was trying not to shake her. “Sally!”

  She attempted to wave him off. “It’s okay. It’s not bad.” At least, this pain wasn’t as bad as Jonathan’s song. Her nerve endings screamed as each cracked bone slid back into place and as her pummeled muscles rebuilt themselves. The worst part was the fiery throbbing in her head. Each wave of healing that washed over her felt like a lightning strike to her skull.

  After a few excruciating minutes, the electric surges through her body dulled to a systemic ache. Now Sally just felt like she had the shooting pains of full-body rheumatoid arthritis. It was a definite improvement.

  Sally opened her eyes and found Fenrir’s worried face mere inches from her own. “I’m okay,” she said with a weak smile. Her throat was still raw, but the taste of blood had diminished. “I think I’m going to be okay.”

  Fenrir sat back and blew out a long breath between his sharp teeth. “That was close.”

  The corners of Fenrir’s eyes were moist. Had he been crying? With all of the dark fur on his face, it was difficult to tell. Gazing up into the trees, Sally took a few moments to enjoy the luxury of mostly painless breathing, and then she looked back to Fenrir. Before she could open her mouth to as
k what had happened or how he’d even found her, Fenrir pointed to a dark heap in the grass about ten yards away.

  She didn’t gasp as Jonathan’s dark purple skin decomposed to gray ash before her eyes. She didn’t look away when the top layer of dead cinders was carried off by the breeze. But she did suck in her breath when she saw the small, smoking patches of tarry black on the ground around her. Stilling her breath, she could hear the spots sizzling.

  “My blood,” Sally said just before the ground trembled beneath her. She reached for Fenrir, and he wrapped his clawed hands around her slender fingers. The snowy peak looming over her let out a great belch of gas and dark smoke.

  “The volcano!” Sally squawked as the quake subsided. “Is it going to erupt?”

  “What have you done?!”

  Sally turned to find Loki storming out of the forest into the grassy clearing. Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of him. He’d heard her cry for help! But her smile vanished as she watched him stalk toward the dark pile that had been Jonathan. Several more layers of smoldering ash dispersed on the air. When Loki nudged Jonathan’s smoky remains with the toe of his boot, the ash collapsed on itself in a shapeless heap and lost all resemblance to the lava god.

  Loki’s face froze in a mask of rage as he glared across the grass at Fenrir. “You killed him?”

  Fenrir leapt to his feet and placed himself between Sally and his father. “The Rune Witch was in danger.”

  Loki breathed heavily, trying to keep his anger in check. Above, Mt. Bachelor spewed out more smoke and a measure of ash. “You don’t know what you’ve done!”

  Sally reached for Fenrir. She held onto his knees and then grasped his waist and elbows as she pulled herself up from the grass, all the while pretending that he wasn’t naked. She clutched his arm to steady herself once she was on her feet. She was startled, again, that she was taller than he was.

  “Loki!” she shouted as loud as she could, in pain and sounding almost exactly like a strangling frog. She pointed to the mountain peak. “You have to calm down. You’ll make the volcano erupt.”