Odin's Ravens

by K. L. Armstrong

  Laurie walked back to camp and stretched out to sleep. In the morning, she could tell them that Owen was planning to be at the fight—and that he said she would be there, too. For now, she would sleep.

  EIGHT

  MATT

  “GETTING HIS GOAT”

  Matt pretended to sleep until he heard Laurie leave. Then he slipped away and walked in the opposite direction. Right now, he just wanted some time to himself to think about what Hildar had said: that they hadn’t averted the apocalypse.

  He didn’t get very far before he heard footsteps. He turned fast, his hand going to his amulet. It was Hildar.

  “I’m not running away,” he said.

  “I know.” She drew up alongside him, her shield glimmering as the moonlight caught it. “You are disappointed.”

  Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.

  She glanced his way as they walked. “If you had known it would change nothing, would you still have gone to Hel for the son of Balder?”

  “Of course.”

  “Now that you know nothing will stop Ragnarök from coming, do you wish we could find a new Champion of Thor?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” She moved in front of him, turning to face him, making him stop walking and look up at her. “Because you are the only choice, Matthew Thorsen. There are other descendants who could take your place, but you are Vingthor. They are not.”

  “Vingthor?” Matt repeated. “Battle Thor? No, I’m definitely not. If you’re trying to make me feel better—”

  “I would not.” Her words were sharp now, chin jerking up, as if insulted. “I am a warrior, not a chieftain. I do not need to tell pretty lies. I speak only truth, and if I say you are Vingthor, then you are. It was prophesied, and you have proven it.”

  Matt hesitated, then looked at her. “So what does that mean? That I’m the Champion of Thor?”

  “More.”

  “The chosen representative of—?”

  “More.”

  Now he really hesitated, taking at least ten seconds before he dared to say, “The reincarnation of—?”

  “Less.”

  He sputtered a laugh. He couldn’t help it. As he laughed, he began to relax. “All right, then. What does it mean? I know we’re supposed to be the living embodiment of the gods, but I’m not sure I even get what that means. So explain.”

  Hildar stared at him, and Matt had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing again. She looked like the head quarterback, expecting to be asked for his game play and instead told to recite the periodic table of elements.

  “You are Vingthor,” she said after a moment.

  “Which means…”

  “You are the god born anew. In mortal form.”

  “But not reincarnated?”

  She seemed to struggle to find the right words. “Gods are more than people. They are ideas. They are whatever their people need them to be. There was Thor. There can be another Thor, with his blood and his powers and everything that he was. That is Vingthor. You are Vingthor.”

  “Okay.”

  He smiled as she let out a soft breath of relief.

  “You understand, then?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  Now she went still, her eyes searching his. “But you do not believe.”

  Matt shrugged. “I’m flattered—”

  That stiffening again, her chin lifting. “I do not wish to flatter.”

  “I know. Sorry. I just…”

  “You do not believe.”

  No, he did not. It’d taken him long enough to accept he was the Champion of Thor. Now Hildar called him Vingthor? Said he was all that Thor had been? Absolutely not. He could tell by her face that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Nor could he lie.

  “I will be whatever I need to be,” he said.

  “That is all we ask. Now, walk a little more with me. Then you are going to sleep.”

  A slow smile. “Whether I want to or not?”

  “Yes.”

  Matt did sleep. Maybe there was magic in that. Or maybe he was just too exhausted to lie awake thinking of all that had happened.

  He woke at dawn. Everyone else was asleep. Weird. Weren’t they supposed to be taking turns watching the fire? Maybe the Valkyrie offered to cover a shift. He pulled himself up and sat there, staring through the trees at the distant sunrise. He’d dreamed of the serpent again, of the nightmare the mara had sent him, the one where the serpent devoured his family.

  “You have doubts,” a voice whispered behind him.

  He turned sharply to see a Valkyrie. This one wasn’t much older than him. She wore a blue dress with a laced scale breastplate. Her blond hair was mostly pulled back in a band, wild loose pieces framing her face. When he stared at her, her blue eyes glittered and she smiled.

  I didn’t know they could smile.

  He could see the other Valkyries through the trees. They ringed the camp, sitting astride their horses, gazes fixed, faces expressionless. None of them glanced over as he rose to greet the young one. When he started to say something, though, she motioned him to silence and beckoned him into the forest. He followed until they were in a clearing.

  “You have doubts, son of Thor,” she murmured.

  “N-no. Just…” He shook his head. “I had a nightmare.” He pulled himself up straight. “But I’m fine.”

  A faint smile. “Of course you are. You’re always fine, Matt.”

  He blinked at the use of his name. She laughed, the sound rippling around him, light and teasing and… familiar?

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “You are fine, son of mighty Thor. Is that better?” A roll of her eyes. “They know your name. They’re just playing their part. The drill sergeants. Training the young warrior with harsh lessons and insults. You’re the one who should be insulted. You deserve their respect. You are the mighty Thor. You know that, don’t you? The incarnation of the great god.”

  He shook his head. “I’m the representative—”

  “No, you are Thor,” she whispered, moving closer, breath against his ear. “You know it. You feel it. The others?” Contempt dripped from her voice. “They are mere representatives, and poor ones at that.”

  He stepped back sharply and when he looked at her face, he still saw the young blond Valkyrie, smiling at him, but he knew it wasn’t a Valkyrie at all. And as soon as he thought that, his amulet started to vibrate.

  “Astrid,” he said.

  Her smile grew. “Matt.” She leaned toward him. “Did you miss me?”

  He jumped back, hand flying out, the Hammer knocking her off her feet. As she hit the ground, she threw back her head and laughed.

  “That seems like a yes,” she said.

  She slowly pushed up. Then, suddenly, she lunged, her lip curled back, her eyes glittering. Matt swung his shield arm up and, to his shock, the shield was there. Astrid hit it and Matt flew backward, landing flat on his back. He leaped up and—

  Matt fell on his side, sleeping bag wrapped around his legs. He stopped. He looked around and saw Baldwin and Laurie still asleep in their bags. Fen was awake, tossing twigs into the fire, but he said nothing when he saw Matt wake.

  “Son of Thor?” a voice said.

  He twisted, expecting to see Astrid, but it was Hildar, moving her horse into the clearing.

  “You are disturbed,” she said.

  “Just a… bad dream.”

  “About what?”

  He paused before answering. “A girl. Her name’s Astrid. I think she works with the Raiders.”

  Hildar frowned. “I do not know an Astrid.”

  “She killed Baldwin.”

  A nod. “Yes, she must work with the wulfenkind, then. You ought not to think of her.”

  “Believe me, I wasn’t trying,” he muttered.

  He sat there, still in his sleeping bag, staring out into the night, as he had been in the dream, which made him shift and rub his face, trying to forget it.
r />   “You are disturbed,” Hildar said.

  “I’m just tired.”

  “You want to sleep.”

  Matt shook his head. “No, I want…”

  I want normal back. And I know I can’t have that. I can probably never have that.

  “You want…” Hildar prompted.

  “Nothing,” Matt said. “I want nothing.”

  “Then I will give you something. A reward. You have done well, and it is permitted. Rouse the others. We ride.”

  It took a while to get the others up. Once they were awake enough, Baldwin asked Hildar where they were going.

  “We have a gift for the son of Thor,” she said.

  “Of course you do,” Fen muttered, rubbing his eyes. “And the rest of us?”

  “You do not require our gifts,” she said. “What you need, we cannot give you.”

  “So what does Matt get?” Baldwin asked. “Wait! Is it Odin? I know we’re supposed to find Odin or Owen or whatever his name is.”

  “Not yet,” Laurie said. “He’s… I’ll explain later.”

  “The daughter of Loki is correct,” Hildar said. “You are not ready for Owen, and he is not ready for you. This is a gift for the son of Thor. One that will prove essential in the battle to come.”

  “Mjölnir?” Matt perked up for the first time since the Astrid dream. “Thor’s hammer. The real one. Is that it?”

  “No, you must retrieve Mjölnir yourself. That is another quest. Another trial you must overcome.”

  “Of course it is,” Fen grumbled.

  Hildar ignored him. “What we have for you is just as important as Mjölnir. A great and mighty tool.”

  Matt grinned. “Is it the gloves, Járngreipr? The belt, Megingjörð?”

  “You will not need those to fight the serpent. They are other tools for other quests. No more questions.” She reached down. “Come. We ride.”

  She caught Matt’s hand and swung him easily up behind her.

  “Are you prepared?” she asked when the other Valkyries had their passengers in place.

  “Sure,” Matt said. “But we could use a soundtrack this time. Maybe a little Wagner. Da-da-da DUM dum.”

  Hildar looked back at him blankly.

  “Wagner? Ride of the Valkyries? Da-da-da… Er, never mind.”

  “Oh!” Baldwin said. “I know that one!”

  “Don’t feed the geek,” Fen muttered.

  “Hey,” Matt said. “I’m not a—”

  “Oh, yeah, you are, Thorsen. You really are,” Fen said in a voice that might have been teasing.

  “Both of you, cut it out,” Laurie said. “Let’s go get Matt his present.”

  The Valkyries took them on another breakneck ride. When they stopped, they were up in the hills, in a rocky open area.

  “Hey, look! Donkeys!” Baldwin said as they climbed from the horses.

  They followed his finger to see a half-dozen wild burros foraging on the long grass. Across the clearing was another herd, this one of goats. They looked kind of like mountain goats, but not quite. They had long, shaggy fur—some all white, some black and white, and others brown. Both the goats and the burros seemed unperturbed by the horses or the people.

  “This is cool,” Laurie said. “I’ve never seen wild goats this close, and I’ve never seen wild donkeys at all.”

  “So,” Matt said, looking around. “Where… um, I mean…”

  “He wants his present,” Fen said.

  “It is there.” Hildar pointed at the goat herd.

  “Behind the goats?” Baldwin said.

  Hildar turned to Matt. “Son of Thor…?”

  All through the ride, Matt had been running through the myths, wondering what gift the Valkyries had for him, thinking of the all the amazing possibilities—all the cool weapons in the old sagas. He hadn’t felt like that since he was a kid, waiting impatiently for his parents to get up on Christmas morning. Now, as he stared out at the field, that excitement fizzled in his gut.

  “Son of Thor?” Hildar prompted.

  “It’s the goats,” he said, his voice low.

  “The what?” Fen said.

  “The, uh, goats. Thor… in the myths… Thor has goats.”

  Fen pressed his lips together, but after only a moment, he sputtered a laugh. Baldwin joined in. Even Laurie seemed to be trying to hold one back. Matt’s cheeks heated.

  “Seriously? Goats?” Fen said. “That is awesome.”

  “They’re magical goats,” Matt said.

  “Magical…” Fen couldn’t even manage the rest without choking on his laughter.

  “Do not mock the son of Thor,” Hildar said. “The goats are very important. It is an aspect of the great god. Oku-Thor.”

  “Oku-Thor?” Fen said.

  “Lord of Goats,” Hildar said.

  All three burst out laughing, even Laurie. Matt tried to explain that wasn’t the real translation—it meant “Driver Thor,” referring to the goat cart he drove, not the actual goats, but no one was listening to him. The damage was done.

  “Look, I appreciate the, uh, goats,” Matt said to Hildar. “But I really don’t think they’ll work out. Maybe I could have…”

  He looked around the field. As his gaze passed over the burros, Hildar frowned.

  “You would prefer a donkey?” she said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Fen said, sputtering between laughs. “Matt would really rather be Thor, Lord of—”

  “No!” Matt said. “I would not. I don’t want a donkey or a goat or anything like that.” He looked up at Hildar. “I understand that the real Thor had goats, and they were very important in his travels as a source of food.”

  Laurie screwed up her face. “Thor ate his pet goats?”

  “They came back. He’d eat them for dinner, and they’d resurrect before he needed them again.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Laurie said.

  “But kinda smart, too,” Baldwin said.

  Matt turned back to Hildar. “We already have food, from Helen’s bag. So the goats… well, we don’t need them.”

  “You will. These are your goats, son of Thor. They have lived here for centuries, waiting for you.”

  He looked at the herd of about thirty goats. “All of them? I thought there were just two.”

  “Two are special. They are your cart-bearers. But they are all yours to command. You speak. They will obey.”

  “Matt Thorsen, goat whisperer,” Fen said.

  Matt glowered at him.

  “Call your goats, son of Thor,” Hildar said “Do you know their names?”

  “Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr.”

  “No,” Fen deadpanned. “You’re not a geek, Thorsen. Not at all.”

  Laurie hushed him and stepped up beside Matt. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Hildar wants you to, and who knows, they might come in handy.” She gave him a slight smile. “Just don’t ask me to eat them.”

  Matt hesitated. Then he called the names. He did, admittedly, not call them very loudly, hoping maybe the goats wouldn’t hear, and Hildar would decide he didn’t have the power after all. But as soon as the words left his mouth, two goats broke from the herd and galloped over at full speed. They stopped short right in front of Matt. They were the biggest ones in the herd, both snow white, with long flowing hair and huge yellow-brown horns; they seemed to glitter like gold in the morning sun.

  “They’re gorgeous,” Laurie said, reaching to pat one.

  “They’re goats,” Fen said.

  “Still…” Laurie ran her hands through the long hair at one’s neck. “It’s like silk.”

  The goats pressed closer to Matt and nuzzled him. When he awkwardly patted one, it rubbed its head against him, like a cat.

  “I think she likes you,” Fen said.

  “It’s a he. The horns mean—” Matt stopped before he got the geek comment again. “So, um, which one is Tanngrisnir—?”

  The goat on his left bleated. Unlike its brother, it had black dots under each e
ye.

  “They’re… nice,” Matt said, being careful not to offend the beasts as they nuzzled him. “But I’m not really sure what to do with them. I can’t ride around South Dakota in a chariot, and I’m sure not going to eat them.”

  “They have their role to play,” Hildar said.

  “Which is…?”

  “You will know.”

  “But I don’t.”

  “You will. When you need them, call them. They will come. We must leave. You are ready to find Mjölnir.”

  “Will the goats help me find—?”

  “No. You will find Mjölnir in the kirkyard of Saint Agnes.”

  “Kirkyard?” Matt said. “You mean cemetery, right?”

  “The old Saint Agnes cemetery outside Blackwell?” Laurie asked.

  “That is the one,” Hildar said.

  “It’s not a small place,” Matt said. “Where exactly in there do we find it?”

  “Your amulet will lead you. Good-bye, son of Thor.”

  “Wait!”

  They were already riding away, leaving Matt with his goats.

  NINE

  LAURIE

  “WORSE THAN MONSTERS”

  Laurie tried to keep from laughing at the adoring gazes of the goats, but there was something undeniably funny about a gift of goats. How did the Valkyries think goats were a great gift? Hildar had gone on like this was a useful tool, an asset to the coming fight, but instead she’d presented Matt with livestock. Maybe if they were living in another age, having a goat to slaughter and reslaughter every night for dinner would be a great advantage, but the idea of slaughtering a goat even once made Laurie feel queasy. Food definitely had been an issue on their trip, but now Helen’s bags of many surprises were delivering up far more palatable foods. Bag of chips? Juice? Sandwich? That was the sort of food that worked. Killing and skinning a goat? That was just gross. Killing a nice goat was even worse! That would be mean and gross.

  “We should head out,” Baldwin said, drawing everyone’s attention away from the goats.

  One of the two named goats—and Laurie had no idea which one it was—bleated again, and Matt looked back at it.