Highway to Hel

by S. E. Babin

  Hope settled around my shoulder like a comfortable shawl. "I'll start creating the shelters. Gravelbeard, if you want to grab Eyra, see if she can help you start preparing the people for a quick walk over here. We should be finished in just a few minutes."

  He nodded and waddled off, his axes gleaming on his back from the early morning light. Morrigan watched him go, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  "He is quite the warrior," she said.

  "And quite the cook, too."

  Her lips quirked in a smile. "You've chosen your cohort well, Freya." She bowed deeply to me - a graceful, sweeping movement. "And I am honored to be included in it."

  I waited for her to rise, unable to speak because I was overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, I cleared my throat. "A few months ago, would you have ever thought we would be here? Together?"

  A low chuckle came from her. "No. I admit. You've surprised me repeatedly. I've never known someone like you. It's a pity we never met earlier."

  I thought about how I used to be in the past. "Maybe not," I said ruefully. "It took a lot of life experience to get me here."

  Morrigan laughed. "Me as well. Although, I will say the stories of my cruelty are greatly exaggerated." Her eyes darkened. "Though, not all of them are untrue. I save my best for the worst of us."

  "If we can't forgive the sins of our past, we don't deserve the future," I said and beckoned for her to walk with me to the back of the settlement. Once we'd gotten there, I surveyed the area.

  "I think we can set up a long building. Sort of like what the humans call apartments here. We can give them each a kitchen and at least one bathroom. Some of them might need to be a little larger than others because of children. Once we get Loki back and Gravelbeard and Eyra finish talking to everyone, we can start on the rebuild."

  She nodded. "What about a new park for the kids?" The other one was still in the planning process and we had nothing to show for it yet.

  "Maybe a temporary one until we get all the new houses done. We need to be careful to keep the houses all the same size unless a family has children. But we need to set a maximum so no one asks for the moon."

  "There's only a few children here, right?" she asked, eyeing the spot I'd chosen.

  "Less than ten families. I'm not sure they're staying after this, but I hope they are."

  "Do you want to work on the park or the building?" Morrigan asked.

  "You pick," I said, straightening my shoulders and preparing for more magic than I'd performed since I'd gotten here. My battle magic was different from something like this. Battle was instinctive. A hammer where here I'd use a chisel. I practiced the art of Seidr normally - in secret. But today, I would have to tap into the wall of my artistic talents.

  "The park," she said and walked several feet away. "How about here?"

  I nodded. "Just make sure it won't interfere with the building here. Do whatever you'd like - within reason."

  She nodded, a spark of delight in her eyes. "I thank you, Freya. It's a nice change of pace to use my magic for something good."

  I looked away before she could see the sadness in my eyes over that statement. "My pleasure," I said. I closed my eyes and brought up a picture in my mind's eyes of what I wanted the temporary shelter to look like.

  Eleven

  I stared at the park Morrigan created, my mouth slightly ajar. "Umm," I said.

  Morrigan grinned at me. "Isn't it wonderful?"

  It was. Also massive. Also, very, verrry black. "Everything is black," I said stupidly.

  She nodded. "Silver, too."

  It was the goth version of a schoolyard playground but with more danger. "You don't think the slide is a little high?" I ventured.

  She peered at it, an adorable wrinkle between her brow. "You're scared the children will be hurt?"

  I was more scared the children would be maimed beyond recognition, but I nodded. "Maybe bring it down a few feet?" I stared up at the massive monstrosity. The slide was at least forty foot high. The swings were held up by a black, twisted and thorny tree. There was a walking path encircling the place, black bark picnic tables, a volleyball court and a place to barbecue.

  It was beautiful, but it looked like it was built by an out of control artist. The sound of voices made me turn around before I could talk to Morrigan about taming the place even more.

  The townspeople all walked behind Gravelbeard and Eyra. I heard the first gasp as they got close enough to see the park.

  One little girl screamed and ran straight for Morrigan. I steeled myself, ready to react if it went sideways, but Morrigan allowed the little girl to barrel right into her. She caught her in her arms and allowed the girl to hug her around the waist.

  Her wide-eyed gaze met mine and I smiled encouragingly.

  "Is this your park?" the little girl asked, gazing up at Morrigan adoringly.

  Morrigan bent down and shook her head. "It's not mine. It's yours."

  The girl's eyes widened comically. "Mine?" she said and pointed at her chest.

  "Uh huh. And everyone else's too. All of the children who live here. It's all yours."

  The girl turned and waved to the other kids behind her before she turned back to Morrigan. "So we can play on it any time we want?"

  "You can, but I might have to make some changes to it before you do." Morrigan glanced up at me.

  "But why? It's pretty," the little girl said. She broke away and ran straight for the slide.

  I grimaced, but the girl's mom just watched her carefully. It took her a while to climb to the top and just as she sat at the top, I saw Morrigan's lips move. The sides of the slide carefully expanded in size a little and came up high enough to keep the child from sliding right out of it. She pushed herself and screamed with delight as she came flying down the slick surface.

  The other kids looked at their parents and back at the park, and soon enough it was filled with children climbing all over the equipment.

  "Should I change it?" Morrigan whispered to me.

  The kids shrieked with delight as they flew down the slide. "Maybe just spell it to keep them safe?" I suggested.

  "Already did," she whispered.

  I shrugged. "Then I'd say your work here is done."

  She put a hand over her mouth and watched the kids, some unnameable emotion in her eyes. I sidled a little closer and slung an arm over her shoulders. "Good job," I whispered. I squeezed her in a side-arm hug and walked over to the other residents.

  Gravelbeard came up and motioned for me to lean down. "You're losing about twenty-five percent of the population," he said, his voice grim.

  I nodded, disappointment filling me. "I thought as much," I told him. "I'm not surprised by it."

  "It's fear, Freya. Fear of a lot of things, but mostly the unknown. They'll come back."

  I shook my head. "I don't think they will. This is the second time I've let them down, and this time people died. They're right to leave. I've broken my promise to them."

  Gravelbeard snorted with irritation. "Odin broke every promise he ever made to them and they never left."

  I smiled sadly. "But Odin kept them safe and people will overlook a lot for that kind of guarantee," I said.

  He grunted but said nothing else. "When are they leaving?"

  "As soon as we're finished here. Eyra promised to take them to safety."

  "Alright then." I squared my shoulders and addressed the crowd.

  "I have failed you ..." I began.

  We had less than a hundred and fifty residents after everything was said and done. I watched Eyra fly out the last residents before I wearily trudged back to my bar and poured us all a massive ale. Morrigan chose to sprawl out on the floor. I'd plopped into a seat at one of the tables and Gravelbeard had elected to sit atop the bar.

  None of us spoke for a while.

  My thoughts drifted back to Loki. I planned to leave in the morning to get him back. The thought of it filled me with dread. I had no desire to fight Hel. I very muc
h wanted to kill her, but I didn't want to have to go through the entire battle process.

  A soft laugh escaped me. I was getting soft in my old age. If she just gave him back to me, I thought I'd walk away. Maybe.

  Or maybe I was just so tired right now that the only thing to look good was anything easy on me.

  "I have all the interviews, Freya," Gravelbeard said as he tossed back the rest of his beer.

  "Any outrageous requests?" I asked. I laid my head down on top of the table.

  "Nothing I couldn't handle," he said. "Not everyone is pleased about the plan for the ward failsafe.”

  That made me raise my head up. "Really?"

  He nodded, his gaze speculative. "It's not up to me to judge a man or a woman, but anyone who doesn't agree to something that will ensure the safety of everyone here might need to be re-examined."

  "Who?" I asked.

  "Some of the witches," he said softly.

  My eyebrows rose of their own volition. "Griselda's witches?" I couldn't believe it.

  "Aye," he said, his voice gruff. "Though they did not say why."

  The Griselda I knew would not be pleased about this. She was growing to be a good friend of mine, and I knew without a doubt she would value safety over anonymity. I knew their secrets and she trusted me with them. This might be a time I had to play hardball. I could no longer afford to be kind or fair. Doing so almost destroyed the settlement I’d worked so long and hard to build.

  “Frithkyrrie,” Morrigan suddenly said.

  We both swiveled our heads to her.

  “What, woman?” Gravelbeard growled.

  She snorted in amusement. “I’ve killed others for speaking to me like that, dwarf,” she said mildly.

  “You’ve never killed a dwarf in your life, death goddess,” Gravelbeard muttered. “I can’t see why you’d start now.

  Morrigan laughed, sounding delighted. “Frithkyrrie,” she explained, “is a combination of two words. “Peace or protection and calm.”

  I mulled it over in my mind.

  “It signifies we are a haven,” she continued. “A place for those who are weary of their lives on Asgard or Midgard.”

  “I like it,” Gravelbeard said.

  “Me too.” I nodded with authority. “Frithkyrrie it is.”

  The dark goddess beamed at us. “We need a sign,” she said.

  I sipped my beer, hiding a smile behind the frosty glass.

  We were dressed for war. Morrigan lounged on my couch, which thankfully had escaped the fire, resplendent in black leather, toying with a spatula. I had not seen her digging through my kitchen drawers, but she kept twirling it around and staring at it with suspicion.

  "I do not understand all the things you keep in your cabinet. Like this." She held up the spatula. "What is the purpose of a flat tool like this?" Morrigan swung it in the air like a fly swatter. "Do you hit people with it?" Her lips pursed. "I don't think it would hurt that much. You need a bulkier tool to inflict pain. Or something barbed."

  I buckled my utility belt and reached down for my boots. "It's for food," I said patiently. Having Morrigan around was fun, more fun than I'd had in a while, but she asked questions all the time. I answered all of them as best I could because I had no idea what Morrigan's experiences had been. I didn't know where she lived before here or what her home had been like. She seemed fascinated with everything around her and comfortable enough with me that she asked.

  She was a very different person from the one who'd terrified the hell out of me the first time I'd met her.

  "Food?" She sat straight up. "What food is flat like this except for sliced bread?"

  "Pancakes, for one," I said.

  Her eyes narrowed. "And what is a pan cake?"

  Every time she said something like that, it made me sad. Granted, Gravelbeard and I were more food curious than almost everyone in Midgard and Asgard, but I'd brought pancakes into the castle after I learned about them on one of my sourcing trips. They were an instant hit, though we did have to cut down to having them only on special occasions because we were going through more maple syrup than an entire city for awhile.

  "They're delicious little fried cakes," I explained. "Sort of. They're fluffy and delicious with butter and maple syrup."

  "Like latkes?" she asked.

  I shook my head as I sat down. "No. Latkes are made with potatoes. Pancakes are made with flour, eggs, butter, and other things."

  "They sound ... delicious," she ventured.

  "They are," I agreed. Curiosity had me delicately approach the next question. "What do you normally eat for breakfast?"

  Morrigan's eyes unfocused. "Sometimes I have bird eggs. If they've chosen to bless me with one. Most times I had porridge."

  "Porridge?" I questioned.

  She nodded. "I lived in a ... remote area." Morrigan paused at the word remote.

  We could use magic to produce food. I rarely did, though. It wasn't the same as real food. Not even a little bit. It would be like comparing diamonds to cubic zirconia. Though, I hated that analogy because I thought diamonds were way overrated. But one is fake and cheap and the other is prized.

  "Oatmeal?" I ventured. Oatmeal was better than porridge. Both were cheap to purchase.

  She shook her head. "Rice when I had it."

  I gave her a long look, unhooked my weapons belt and let it drop on the floor. I reached down and hauled Morrigan to her feet.

  She swayed and gave me a look of utter surprise. "What are you doing?"

  I pulled her by the hand, out the damaged door, and down the street.

  "Freya! What on Asgard? We have to go!"

  "Loki is a big boy. Another hour won't hurt him. He already said Hel didn't want him dead." I had no idea what we were going to run into when we ventured into Hel's territory, but I didn't want Morrigan to leave this world not knowing a good breakfast.

  I burst through the doors of my bar and took her to the kitchen. Gravelbeard gave us a look of surprise as we burst in unexpectedly. He was dressed more casually than normal and using a mixer to stir something that looked like batter.

  I let go of Morrigan and headed over to him. "What's in there?" I demanded.

  He gave me a strange look as he turned off the mixer. "It's pancake better," he said slowly. "Why are you being weird?"

  I jerked my head over to Morrigan. "She's never had pancakes."

  Gravelbeard's eyes widened comically. "No shit?"

  "No shit," I agreed solemnly.

  "And bacon?" he asked.

  We both looked over to Morrigan. She shrugged, a rueful look on her face. "I lived in a remote area."

  "And no one fucking offered you anything to eat when you showed up after all the years you've walked this world?” Gravelbeard seemed appalled. There were few insults on par with not offering food to guests in his opinion, no matter how terrible the company was.

  A fierce grin lit her face. "I never stayed too long," she said.

  Gravelbeard and I both shuddered. "You're fucking scary, woman." He waved a spatula at her. "I suspect from the way you're dressed, you're in a hurry?"

  I pushed the vanilla extract closer to him. "Yup, but I didn't want either of us to die without tasting your pancakes."

  A pleased blush colored his cheeks. "Sit your asses down then. They'll be ready in a little while." He eyed me. "But before you do, can you get the round of bacon out of the fridge, Freya?"

  I nodded. Gravelbeard dug a cast iron skillet out and turned it on high. I fetched the round of pastured pork and the dwarf got busy slicing it and putting it into the sizzling pan.

  I sat down beside Morrigan. She watched him in fascination.

  I nudged her with an elbow. "It's kind of like watching a master work."

  When all the bacon was in the pan cooking, Gravelbeard got the griddle out and poured a perfectly round pancake out. I got up and dug out the unsalted butter and a large bottle of maple syrup. Morrigan pulled the bottle toward her and opened the lid to smell
it.

  I hid a smile.

  Twenty or so minutes later, Gravelbeard shoved a plate piled high with pancakes and bacon on it toward Morrigan. He cut two perfect pats of butter and put them on top then handed her the syrup bottle.

  "Most people use too much syrup," he explained. "You need enough to taste it, but not enough to drown it, you see?"

  She nodded eagerly and proceeded to dump an obscene amount on top of her pancakes. Gravelbeard rolled his eyes and walked away to get another plate. I slid out of my seat and served myself. When I got back to my seat, Morrigan held her fork over the plate.

  "Dig in," I said gently. I cut a bite and chewed, closing my eyes in bliss at the fluffy round cake.

  Morrigan finally took a bite and I watched carefully. She chewed and as she did, her nostrils flared and her eyes went silver. I grinned at her and took another bite.

  The Morrigan tore through the pancakes like a starved woman and before I was even a quarter of the way through, she'd cleaned her entire plate and looked longingly at the stacked try of more pancakes. I shoved my fork in the direction of it. "Go," I said with encouragement. She did not need to be told twice.

  Morrigan loaded up one more time and took plenty of bacon, too.

  Fifteen minutes later, she was laid out on the floor, a look of pure bliss on her face. "Pancakes," she murmured.

  Gravelbeard and I shared a secret smile. I picked up all the plates and took them over to the sink where I quickly washed them.

  "Thanks, Gravelbeard!" I called when I was finished.

  He grunted in acknowledgment as I walked over to Morrigan. I peered down at her. "Can you move?"

  She groaned. "I've never been this full in my life." Her hands pressed over her flat stomach. "I like it here," she proclaimed. "As soon as we get back from this foolhardy errand, I'd like to build my house first."

  "We'll work on that," I said and held my hand out. She reached up and took it, and I hauled her to her feet.

  "How often does Gravelbeard make pancakes?" she asked as she waved at him on our way out.

  "Every Sunday usually," I said. "Unless he decides to make waffles."