"Not quite the words of condolence I was hoping for."
"How dare you do something so... so..."
"Brave? Self-sacrificing?"
"Selfish."
I bristled. "Buying other people's lives with my own is selfish how, exactly?"
She looked away. When she looked back, her eyes were brimming, and I felt bad for snarking at her.
"Loki might have let everyone go free," she said.
"I doubt it."
"But he might have. If you'd just kept your peace, there's every chance..."
"You know that's not true. Besides, hello? It's Gid you're talking to. I open my mouth and crap comes out before I can stop it. It's the curse of being me."
"Why couldn't one of the others have done it, though? Why did it have to be you?"
"I dunno," I said. "I suppose I've become the leader, by default. No, that's too grand. The spokesman. The mouthpiece. So it sort of had to be me. Tall poppy syndrome. You rise up, you have to expect to be cut down. But also..."
I thought hard. I'd been doing little else but thinking hard since getting locked up in this cabin.
"I should probably have died in that car crash. Or if not then, immediately afterwards, thanks to those wolves. I was damn lucky. I got a second shot. So everything since has been gravy, as far as I'm concerned. A bonus life. Which makes the idea of losing it that much easier to adjust to. I've had fun. These past few weeks have been baffling, painful, intense, sometimes fucking awful - but what a laugh! I've done shit I'd never in a million years have dreamt of doing, and I've been a warrior again, and fighting a fight worth fighting, what's more. Nothing questionable about working for Odin and defending Asgard. This wasn't some spurious war cooked up by civil servants and businessmen to keep the oil flowing and the rebuilding contracts flooding in. This had meaning. It was clear cut - like the Second World War and unlike any of the conflicts since, except possibly the Falklands. A definite bad guy with nefarious ambitions, and us the last, best and maybe only hope against him. A soldier couldn't ask for more than that."
"So at least you've got something out of it."
"Don't be like that."
"Like what?"
"All bitter and twisted. I was going to go on to say something else. One of the most amazing things about this entire situation is that I've met... well, you. Bear with me here, because I'm hellish clumsy when it comes to this sort of stuff. But... I don't know what you think of me, Freya, but I think you are pretty incredible. And incredibly pretty. But mostly pretty incredible."
I spotted the guards making stupid, leering faces through the doorway.
"Oh fuck off, you," I snapped. "This is difficult enough as it is, without cockfaces like you getting involved."
"Concentrate on me, Gid," Freya said, taking my hands. "Ignore them."
I tried. "I'm a hard-shelled bastard, I know it. I come across like nothing bothers me, nothing gets to me. I love my son, but that's about it as far as finer feelings go. Otherwise, all front, no depth. That's the impression I give, and that's more or less how it is. But you, Freya... I can't get over the fact that you're you and you chose me. You could have anyone, you could go out with gods, but it was humble little mortal Gid Coxall who got the nod. I'm not pretending I don't realise that it's chiefly been about humping one another senseless. I get that. Any port in a storm, and so on. And I'm not against shaggery for shaggery's sake. Far from it. Bring it on, I say. But if there was more to us than that, if I've been more to you than just a convenient booty call, I have to know. You have to tell me."
"You choose now to ask this? When you're moments away from dying?"
"It's that close, is it?"
"They're nearly ready. Your 'audience' is being gathered."
"Shit. Then yes, this is precisely the time to ask. When better? And don't just tell me what you think I want to hear. Be honest. Straight from the heart. Is it possible for a goddess - I'm going to use the word love - to love a mortal? Can it happen?"
There was a pause. A long one. Then, gaze averted, in barely a whisper, Freya said, "It can. Yes. It can."
I sat back, contented. "I think I can go to my grave happy now."
"Truly?"
I nodded. "I mean, let's face it, I've loved a goddess and she loved me back. Doesn't get much better than that."
The frost giants were bombarding us with mocking "ooh" and "wooh" noises, but it hardly registered.
"If I could help you in any way," Freya said. "As I helped those men they pinned to Yggdrasil..."
"You would, I know, and I appreciate the offer, but you can't, can you? Not from out of the crowd. You won't have a gun."
She lowered her voice. "I could slay you now. Spare you that way from what's in store."
"With your bare hands?"
"You know I could."
"And then the frosties would kill you too."
"So?"
I smiled at her, sincerely. "I don't want that. And more to the point, if I die here now, Mrs Keener won't need to keep her half of the bargain. Much as I hate the idea, I've got to go through with this. It's shit, but there's no other way."
"Time's up," one of the frost giants announced.
"Loki promised us half an hour."
The frost giant shrugged. "We jotuns don't run our lives by clocks like you do. I don't even know what an hour is. Your ladyfriend's been here long enough by my reckoning, so say goodbye to her."
I muttered something uncomplimentary. The frost giants just laughed.
"Gid..."
Freya took my chin in her hand and guided my face towards hers, and we kissed.
Our first ever real kiss.
And our last.
Sweet, and firm, and deep, and over all too soon.
But a kiss I would have remembered for all my life, even if I were to live to a ripe old age.
Sixty-Eight
My lips were still tingling from the kiss when, not much later, Bergelmir came to collect me.
Outside they'd built a scaffold out of wood. The timber had come from Yggdrasil itself. Several lower branches had been lopped off and sawn into planks. The stumps wept a sap so dark orange it was almost the colour of blood, and I could sense somehow that the World Tree was in agony. Just something about the way its other branches drooped, the way the breeze shivered its leaves. It was sacrilege, to dismember Yggdrasil like this - I sensed that, too. I glimpsed the squirrel Ratatosk scurrying this way and that along boughs in an absolute frenzy, squealing with rage, his tail a furry exclamation mark. There was nothing the little rodent could have done to prevent the frost giants from desecrating his home. He was doubly pissed off for that reason.
The scaffold was large and crudely put together, but sturdy-looking. It consisted of a platform with a simple framework built on top, a rectangle with cross-braced corners. Wooden pegs had been used for nails. Short ropes were attached to all four cross-braces.
Everyone had been mustered in front of it. Frigga was there, dragged away from her patients. Vidar, Bragi, Skadi, Freya of course, Valkyries, plus Cy, Backdoor and the couple of dozen other surviving mortals. Frost giants. Some men I took to be the tanksuit operators, out of their machines and looking quizzical and bloodthirsty - executions like this clearly not an everyday occurrence for them, but something worth experiencing nonetheless. And, waiting on the platform itself, Mrs Keener. She watched me approach with the air of a society hostess about to welcome her guest of honour. She even clasped her hands together as I climbed the scaffold steps, with Bergelmir prodding me from behind.
"I am so glad you could make it!" she exclaimed.
"Wish I could say the same," I replied.
"Come now, don't be like that. It's your big moment, Gid. In some strange way I think you even want this. A grand finale." She pronounced it fin-ayl. "An ego like yours, it wouldn't be satisfied with you just dying along with everybody else. It had to be public and splashy and meaningful, didn't it?"
"What can I say? I'm a fame w
hore."
"Plus it gives you one last chance to show off how goshdarn down-home courageous you are. Quipping and wisecracking, a wiseguy all the way to the end. We'll see how it easy it is to keep the jokes coming once Bergelmir's started in on you." She looked over my shoulder. "First, though, if my eyes don't deceive me, I see that we have some last-minute arrivals."
Everyone followed her gaze. From the shadows beneath Yggdrasil a trio of female figures emerged, walking out into the thickening afternoon light. One strode gracefully, one waddled, and one hobbled along with the aid of a walking stick.
The Norns halted at the scaffold's edge. I found it oddly consoling to see them. In some weird way it seemed to confirm the rightness of what I was doing. It was as if they'd come to give my death their seal of approval.
"The Three Sisters," said Mrs Keener. "How generous of you to grace us with your presence. We are honoured. Tired of one another's company, huh? Decided to leave your cottage and actually witness events for a change, 'stead of viewing them through your scrying well or whatever it is you're using these days?"
"It is Ragnarök," said jailbait Urd.
"The end of all things," said motherly Verdande.
"The cutting of many threads at once," said bent-backed Skuld.
"We Norns have long foreseen this time."
"And anticipated it."
"And dreaded it."
"Now it is upon us."
"All destinies converge."
"The spinning ceases."
Once again the three of them were doing that thing where they spoke one after another so flowingly and seamlessly, it was as if they had a single voice.
"We have come because there is no more to predict."
"The past has tightened to a knot."
"The future is unclear."
"It is a pivotal point, the moment of all moments."
"We must see it as it unfolds, with our own eyes."
"To learn the outcome as others do, while it happens."
"Without foreknowledge."
"Without foreshadowing."
"Without foreboding."
Mrs Keener chuckled delightedly. "I couldn't have asked for more. The Norns themselves, curious to know how everything is gonna turn out. Know what that means? Means I've done it. I've truly won. I am greater than destiny. If I have brought matters to the point where the Three Sisters are half blind now, only able to see what's in front of their eyes, then I have overcome all limitation, and anything is possible." She was almost hugging herself with glee.
"Do not exult just yet, Loki," Urd warned.
"Wheels turn," said Verdande.
"An end may yet be a beginning," said Skuld.
"You don't scare me," Mrs Keener retorted. "That's just sore loser talk. Wheels? Nothing's turning today 'cept me, sisters, and that's 'cause I'm on a roll."
She fixed her attention back on me.
"Now, let's not get ourselves distracted any more," she said. "Betcha eager to get this over with, huh?"
I made a yes-and-no noise.
"Then we'll have you tied up and screaming in no time. Bergelmir...?"
Just as the frost giant was about start attaching the ropes to me, Mrs Keener slapped her forehead.
"Wait just one cotton-picking moment! What an earth am I thinking? You asked two favours off of me, didn't you, Gid?"
"I was wondering whether you'd remember."
"Conjugal visitation rights with Freya, and... oh heck, what was the other one? Clean slipped my mind. No, wait, I've got it. You asked if I'd give up my 'inside man' - assuming I have one, of course. That was it, wasn't it? Let you have him and let you decide how he should be dealt with."
"Yup."
"Well, I said yes to your first favour, and so happens I'm inclined to say yes to this one too. Nothing pleases me - or amuses me - quite like seeing one man getting his satisfaction on another who's done him a bad turn. I know all about slights and injustices and how they can make you feel. Story of my life, some'd say. So, you asked me to reveal who the guy was, the double-crosser, the one you reckon was throwing spanners in the works and was responsible for getting a couple of your buddies killed. I said you describe who you think it is and I'll say if you've got your man. You did, and the result is... Boys?"
She was calling out to the nearest of the frost giants who were policing the crowd of onlookers.
"Him." She pointed. "Fella with the walrus whiskers. Yeah, him. Fetch him up here willya?"
The frost giants homed in on Backdoor, who looked aghast and dumbfounded. They grabbed him and strong-armed him onto the scaffold.
"What the - ?" Backdoor spluttered. "Gid, what the fuck is this? What are you doing?"
"Obvious, isn't it? You screwed us, mate. You've been Loki's bumboy all along, just like I said at Odin's funeral. I want to show you what I think of that. Worst crime of all - betraying your own side."
"But I didn't!"
"You fucking did. You can deny it all you want, but I know."
"But I don't know Loki. I've never seen him before in my life. Never seen her." He gesticulated at Mrs Keener. "Never met her, never made any kind of deal with her. This is crazy! Why are you doing this to me? I fought next to you. I put my balls on the line, just like you. I'm not a traitor!"
"Sounds pretty convincing to me," Mrs Keener commented. "Swearing blind he ain't the one."
"Well, he would, wouldn't he?" I replied.
"Tell him," Backdoor said to her urgently. He was starting to panic. Maybe he'd guessed what I had in mind for him. "Tell him I'm not working for you. I'm nothing to do with you."
"Ain't down to me, pal. This is Gid's call."
"He's got it all arse about face. I'm good. I'm loyal."
"Gid?"
I eyed Backdoor coolly. "No," I said. "You're a conniving bastard, no doubt about it, and for that, you're getting the same treatment I am."
His eyes swivelled towards the rectangular frame. "No..." he gasped.
"It's only fair," I said. "I'm being punished for doing everything right, so you should be punished too, for doing everything wrong. That way, it all balances out."
"Gid..."
"Do him first," I said to Mrs Keener. "Whatever you're planning on doing to me, he gets it first. I'll watch."
"Very well." She nodded to Bergelmir. "This must be your lucky day, Bergelmir. You're gonna have your fun with two of them."
The frost giants' ruler laughed from way down in his belly. Couldn't quite believe his good fortune.
"No! Please, no!" Backdoor yelled hoarsely as the frost giants bound him to the frame by his wrists and ankles. They strung him inside it with his limbs outstretched so that he formed an X shape, like a vote in a ballot. He bucked and struggled, but it was no use. "This isn't right! This isn't fair! Mrs Keener, you can stop this. Please, for God's sake, stop it!"
Her response was a nonchalant shrug. "If you're what Gid says you are, then you've outlived your usefulness to me. The game's over. What's one player less on the field?"
Bergelmir produced a short ice knife with a half-serrated blade. In a few deft strokes he slashed off Backdoor's clothes, leaving his top half bare. Backdoor yelled even harder and writhed against his bonds, but spread-eagled as he was, he had no leverage, and the knots held fast.
"There is," said Mrs Keener, having to raise her voice to be heard above Backdoor's protests, "an old Viking method of execution. You may have heard about it. Many of the kings and chieftains of the Norsemen's enemies died in this way. It ain't pleasant in the least. It's known as the blood eagle."
I dimly recognised the name, although I couldn't recall the details of what a blood eagle actually involved.
Luckily, Mrs Keener was happy to explain.
"It's very simple. The executioner - in this case, Bergelmir - severs the victim's ribs one by one, right close to the spine. Then he grabs the two halves of the ribcage and yanks them back and outward so's they look like wings. Next he hauls out the lungs, leaves 'em
dangling. Finally, as the coop de grass, he packs the wounds with salt. Might be overkill, that last bit, and we may not bother with it. Depends on the victim still being alive, and after all the rest you've got to think that's gonna be a mite unlikely. But we'll see. People have an amazing capacity to endure even the most extreme ordeals, so you never know. Y'all get the gist of it, anyway. This is what we're gonna do to our buddy Backdoor, and then to our buddy Gid. Blood eagling them. And you folks get to watch."
She turned to Bergelmir.
"Any time you're ready, big guy."
Bergelmir gave a yellow grin and brandished his knife.
Backdoor had gone limp. He hung from the ropes, his breath coming in fast, sharp pants. He was in shock. He couldn't believe what was about to happen to him. Didn't want to. I could see it in his eyes - they were glazing over, his mind was going elsewhere. He was retreating inside himself, trying to escape the here and now, vanishing into tunnels within.
Wherever he went, though, however deep he dived, he would never be quite lost enough.
And as Bergelmir got to work on him, all I could think was that was going to be me next. In a few minutes' time, that would be my back getting hacked open, my blood spilling out in steaming slicks, my bones being sawn through, my body wrenching and twisting hopelessly, helplessly, my throat hurling out those soul-searing shrieks and howls...
Sixty-Nine
In the end, they didn't need the salt. Ian "Backdoor" Kellaway was dead by the time Bergelmir delved into his chest cavity, eased out the two wet pink sacs of his lungs and draped them down his bare lower back. Backdoor's head hung slackly. His eviscerated body, with its rack-of-rib wings, looked like some demonic angel's. Bergelmir was steeped in blood from the butchery, his forearms solid crimson, as though he was wearing elbow-length evening gloves.
"He can come down now," Mrs Keener said, and the frost giants untied Backdoor and dumped him unceremoniously over the side of the scaffold. "It's Gid's turn."
Every instinct I had was screaming at me to resist, to fight, to do everything I could to escape. The berserker blackness inside me strained, wanting desperately to be allowed to cut loose. Reining it in took every ounce of self-control I had. This wasn't about me any more. This was about all those soldiers out there at the foot of the scaffold, hugging themselves, stamping their feet in the battle-churned snow. My survival no longer mattered. Theirs did.
Age of Odin Page 37
