Balder

by Camille Oster

  Feeling restless, she walked outside and along the length of the lake. The wind bit her gown, but she didn't feel it. Nothing grew in this barren land—no grass, no trees, no animals. The earth was bare mud, the lake empty. Except for a few things no one wanted to know about. Where Nidhogg was, she had no idea. Perhaps down in his lair, Niflheim.

  It felt empty without Balder. How could he leave her for some stupid man he didn't even know? Why did a god have to revive? Nothing good came from those gods, with their arrogance and bullying. Odin had been the worst, and it pleased her endlessly that she had outlived him. They had battled and fought a few times, Helheim growing in strength to challenge his ridiculous Valhalla. And the pride he'd shown in his warriors. It was all for show—he didn't care more about his warriors than she did about the humans that came here. No better than cattle being gathered for a battle.

  But there were no battles now. Saying that, with a god reviving, it was inevitable that there would be battle eventually. They couldn't help it. The Aesir were quarrelsome. It was in their nature. They detested power in anyone else, and gaining power had always been in her interest.

  Now they had twisted her words to alleviate her of her favorite possession, Balder. It had been with amusement that she had received him, floating to her on this lake in his ship. It had been so long ago. Balder the Beautiful. He really was golden in every way. She had deserved him, but now he had walked out of here, free of the restraints she had on him.

  A smile graced her lips. Well, not entirely free. He itched and burned for her, and would until he walked back in here. Sadly, she could not physically compel him to stay. The shoes that had tied him here were not his anymore, and she would not get them back on him unless he died. Eventually that would happen, she supposed.

  A clicking sound tingled above her. Little claws. Looking up, she saw nothing. "What do you want, you little bastard?" she said and the damned squirrel came into view. He rarely spoke to her, because she had the power to hurt him. Not severely or permanently, but she could cause quite a bit of discomfort for the nuisance animal that roamed wherever it damned well pleased.

  In an eyeblink, he shifted into view. Only seen when he wanted to be.

  "Gods are walking Yggdrasil," he said.

  "I know that, you dumb rat."

  Ratatosk flurried his bushy tail at the insult, then he smiled. "They want the Eagle."

  Hel froze, her features clouded over. Now why would they want the Eagle—a creature that collected and collated wisdom? What was it they wanted to know? "And what business have they with the eagle?"

  Ratatosk shrugged.

  "If that is all you have, rat, then you can scuttle off again. Useless." It was the biggest insult for the squirrel, the accusation that cut more than anything, of being useless. A creature who held himself in high esteem, when he really served no purpose other than prodding anger in others.

  "Something about testing truth," Ratatosk said icily. "I wonder what truth they want to test. Do you know?"

  Hel's mouth drew tight. Closing her eyes, she calmed herself. Balder was challenging her enchantments on him. Rage bubbled up inside her and she shot a icy bolt of energy at the squirrel which burnt its fur.

  "Harpy," it accused with a hiss. "Your chains on him will slip. What will he think of you then? Will he want to touch that colorless skin of yours then, when there are all those young, beautiful humans so willing to serve a god?"

  "Out!" she screamed. "Or we will all have you for dinner—roast you over my fire."

  With a laugh, the squirrel scuttled away, shifting out of sight. Only the slight bending of sky above her showed where it traveled before it slipped out of view entirely.

  Hel wanted to tear something apart, but nothing was within reach. Everyone knew to stay out of her way when she was angry.

  Balder, the ungrateful, was going to break her enchantments. After everything she had invested in him—caring for him, providing for him, and now he simply turned around and deserted her. But that was the way of gods. They took what they wanted and then left.

  Well, she was not going to let it happen. They were not going to defeat her.

  "Nidhogg!" she screamed. "Come now." Her voice boomed around her.

  It took a few moments before she saw the sway of the water that indicated the serpent was there, his eyes peeking out.

  Taking a deep breath, she gathered herself before she crouched down. "I want you to distract Eagle. Keep him away from his perch for a good time. Engage him in battle and keep him so."

  A hiss sounded from the serpent, but she knew he would do her bidding. He never ignored her requests. That was loyalty—how loyalty worked. Gods never understood loyalty. They were always out to benefit themselves and would beg, borrow and steal as they had to. Nidhogg was loyal and simple in what he wanted.

  Turning in the water, he slithered away. Ratatosk usually spurred them into battle with his lies and gossip. Maybe this time, Nidhogg would catch the little rat and rip him to pieces.

  Urgently, she thought of any other barriers she could put in Balder's way. Her father, Loki, was the consummate expert at diverting and distracting. The world was so bare, there was little she had available to her. Even in a disguise, her appearance would be immediately suspicious. But if there is no eagle there to talk to, then they can't talk.

  With a huff, she returned to her hall and wandered without any specific destination. For a moment, she entertained the idea of releasing a plague on the humans as punishment, but their numbers were too frail to survive it and she could wipe them out entirely in her anger. This is what they drove her to. They shouldn't test her like this. Bad things happened when people angered her.

  Icy winds flurried outside and snow fell on the barren ground. For Balder, though, things always fell into place. The world bent to please him and if he wanted to speak to Eagle, the world would find a way to make that happen. No, she needed to think a few steps ahead. Hopefully it wouldn't be necessary, but then things had a habit of aligning itself perfectly for the golden god.

  No, they were not going to get the better of her. They needed to learn that it served no one to anger her. It certainly never ended well if anyone tried to trick her. She did not take well to being lied to.

  Marching out of her hall again, she waded into the water. "Where are you, you ugly cow?" she yelled, reaching down into the dark depths. "Wakey, wakey. No more snoozing for you."

  Reaching down, Hel found what she was looking for, dragging the woman up by her hair. She pulled her to the edge of the lake, dragging her behind her all the way into the hall.

  The woman lay still when Hel dropped the soggy form to the ground. A slow groan escaped her lips.

  "No use pretending you don't exist. You're still here. My shoes still snugly fit on your feet, and they will never come off. You will dwell here forever. The end of time came and it didn't take you with it. Might as well get used to it."

  With hate, Hel stared down at the woman. Fucking Nanna, with her beautiful features and golden hair. Balder had torn the world apart for her once. If Balder would not do what he should, then Hel was going to make him. No one lied and deceived her.

  "Rise and shine, moth," Hel said, kicking the woman in the side. It turned her stomach having her in the hall, but she was willing to do what was necessary. If they didn't know that about her by now, they would soon learn.

  Chapter 9

  LIGHTS STUNG HER EYES and sound assaulted her ears. Even with closed eyes, she couldn't block everything out. And that cruel voice. She knew that voice, but she couldn't place it. She couldn't place anything. It was all just a sharp attack on her.

  Why couldn't she be back in the stillness? What had happened?

  There was hardness beneath her, pressing into her back. Her body tried to breathe, but couldn't. Pain pierced through her chest. She couldn't breathe. Hacking coughs had water spewing out of her mouth. Turning over, she let it flow out. It hurt. Her lungs were full of water, but her arms were
too weak to hold her up.

  A world of pain bit into every part of her, and now the panic of not being able to breathe. It had been such a long time since her body had breathed. It felt wrong to do so now, but she wasn't in water anymore. The denseness of it was gone and it felt almost as if her body could float away.

  More water rushed out of her lungs and finally she took a deep, ragged breath. Breathing brought more pain, her sides clenched with it.

  Sharp brightness stung her eyes further as she tried to open them. She had no idea where she was—or even fully who she was. Memories were distant and cumbersome.

  More ragged breath brought more clarity to her mind. She shivered, wetness pooled around her body. The air was warmer than the water and it stung her body. There was no heat in her whatsoever. It had left long ago. Now heat was seeping in and it hurt.

  A woman stood nearby. It was someone she knew, but couldn't place. There was familiarity without knowledge. A croak escaped her.

  "Look at you. Sodden and bewildered. You've never really known what’s been going on, have you? Always so very feeble."

  Her hair lay like a wet blanket around her and she looked down on herself. Sodden, having been dragged out of the water like a caught fish. "Put me back," she croaked.

  "No, for once I actually need you. Your darling husband has deserted us."

  As much as it hurt, Nanna smiled. "You mean he's come to his senses and has deserted you. It was only a matter of time. Your hold on him could not last forever." Every single word hurt, but it felt so good to say these things to the despicable woman before her.

  With a huff, Hel stepped away, her dark gown flowing around her. Nanna still wore the clothes she'd died in. Old and tattered now. The water had not done them much good. The material would tear with the slightest nudge, like wet paper.

  Some of the pain was subsiding now that air had returned to her lungs, but she didn't want to be there—even to gloat that Hel had finally been deserted.

  Looking over at her feet, she saw the shoes that kept her bound.

  Balder had left. He must have left Helheim. How had he gotten out? How long had they been there? How long had she been in the water?

  Being awake, hunger started to gnaw at her stomach, but the table laden with food seemed too far to reach. She could barely move her limbs, let alone get up and walk. No way would she bring herself to crawl in front of Hel, the bitch that had stolen her husband.

  But in the end, she had lost him. It was just. After all that torture watching him only have eyes for that sorceress, it was finally over, and Nanna hoped Hel burned with humiliation. Humiliation and hurt Nanna understood. Balder hadn't even noticed her there and it had broken her heart.

  It had all been so long ago. Nanna felt nothing now—except pleased that Hel had lost in the end. Justice felt good even if no other emotions were to be had.

  Even that he had left her behind wasn't something that tugged at her. Nanna's heart was cold, as cold as her body was. There was fire across the room, but it would burn if she moved closer. Cold never gave up its claim easily. Neither would Hel. Yet somehow she had lost Balder. The bitch.

  "Why did you wake me?" Nanna asked, watching as the woman paced. This loss disconcerted her. Hel was wary and undone. Nanna hadn't seen her like this before. Except when Ragnarok was unfolding. Hel had been wary then. Nanna had prayed for true death, but it hadn't been delivered to her. They had been stuck here for the eons to come. The thought had been so pressing, she had buried herself in the water and refused to exist.

  Now she was dragged out. "What purpose do you have for me?" she repeated.

  "Leverage, of course," Hel said, refusing to look at her. "Although what good it would serve, I don't know. I doubt he has any feelings for you. I doubt he ever did. But he has pride, and that can move mountains."

  "I hope he never comes," Nanna said darkly. She didn't want to see him. Over time, she had hated, loved and hated him. Now, she simply felt nothing, and she was happy to keep it that way.

  "You spiteful, nasty creature," Hel spat. "However he saddled himself with you, I don't know."

  Did Hel not know the story of them? In all this time, she had never asked? That sounded like her. Spiteful and jealous, she would refuse to ask. What Hel didn't know was that her and Balder's story had always been complicated. It was him that had driven everything that had happened in their relationship. He'd destroyed her with his obsession and desire. So strong, Nanna had eventually learned to accept her fate, and embraced him.

  His death had torn her apart. They had been happy for a while, but their resurrection had been miserable. Hel had stolen him, and he had been enthralled by her, unable or unwilling to fight the enchantments she'd had on him. In the beginning, Nanna had tried to reach him, tried to get through the lust and obsession of the enchantment, but nothing reached him.

  Having to watch them day in and day out had been torture, until she had simply given up. True death was that she'd wanted, but Hel had been too spiteful. Hel had wanted her to see her husband preferring her to his wife.

  But now he had gone—had found the strength to break her enchantment. And without it, he saw no reason for being here. Justice was glorious.

  Dragging her feet under her, Nanna tried to stand. Her knees and thighs shook, hating that she appeared so weak. Wanting to spite Hel was the only leftover emotion she had. In truth, she wasn't sure she cared. Hel's suffering meant nothing to her when it came down to it. The world does eventually mete out whatever someone deserves.

  Why it hadn't given her true death, she couldn't say. It had felt like a betrayal far greater than anything Balder had ever done to her.

  At times it felt as though her life was a series of things Balder had done to her. But there had been joy. There had been Forseti, their son. Nothing had brought her as much joy. He was gone now. Destroyed in Ragnarok, and had left along with the past cycle of life. Yet Nanna was still here. Why had the world been so cruel to her?

  Balancing on her unsteady legs, Nanna shuffled over to the table and sat. Reaching, she drew some bread and ham to her, putting both in her mouth. The flavor was strong and took over her senses for a while. It had been so long since she tasted anything. Her body was not used to the onslaught. For a moment, she felt her stomach clench in revolt.

  If she were breathing and seeing, her body needed food, or she would simply feel ill. There was no dying here, but she could feel terrible. Shaky and weak. As Hel had done her the disservice of dragging her from her wet grave, she had to eat to feel strength.

  A cup of mead quenched her thirst. The food never tasted quite right here—not like the feasts in Asgard, where the sun nourished the wheat, hops and livestock.

  "What is it you suspect he will trade me for?" Nanna asked. She was obviously some defensive strategy for Hel. "He will not trade his freedom for mine."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Freedom to do what, go where? There is nothing."

  Hel paced, refusing to look at her. Nanna never quite understood why Hel did the things she did. Why she wanted Balder so much. Perhaps because there was no one else. It was only Hel sitting on her deathly throne with nothing but shadows around her. Maybe this act, this pacing, was her desperation showing. Some need to save her pride, perhaps.

  Good always won out in the end, and false love was nothing but just that—false.

  Chapter 10

  A GREAT WIND BLEW, almost knocking Balder to the ground. It would reach every realm in the world. Eagle was flying, but he wasn't coming for them. The great shadow of him passed over them. And then the screech and squawks that came with Eagle and Nidhogg battling.

  "Oh dear," a sly voice said and the squirrel appeared out of the night sky. "The old enemies are fighting again."

  "It is curious they should fight at the very time we seek Eagle's guidance," Vali said harshly.

  "Nothing to do with me. Their anger and resentments builds up."

  Great splashes of water gushed beneath them
as the eagle and serpent fought. The wind still blew from the eagle flapping its great wings.

  "I'm guessing no one will be able to help you with your quest," the squirrel said, shifting sharply, almost too quick for the eyes to follow.

  "Be gone, then," Vali roared at the squirrel. "We are not here to serve as your amusement. If you cannot help us, then be gone."

  Ratatosk shrugged, but more flapping from above drew all three faces up. The shifting of light came closer, then the harsh winds coming down on them. Great, yellow talons were all they saw, bearing down on them.

  Vedrfolnir, the hawk that helped Eagle. It was more nimble and traveled wherever it pleased, but Eagle was the power. "Sons of Odin, I see you have wakened. It has been quiet without the gods to entertain us. You asleep," he said, turning his great beak to Vali, "and you in Hel's bed."

  Where he wanted to be right then.

  "We have a bet," Vali said. "Balder thinks his love for her is true and I do not. We sought Eagle to answer the question for us."

  "Eagle is busy," the hawk said, his large, glassy eyes blinking disconcertedly. Their sharp vision traveled over the men, but also down to where Eagle and Nidhogg were fighting. Balder couldn't see, but the hawk, with his fine vision saw everything.

  "Then we will never know," Vali said. "Curious that Nidhogg should pick this moment to antagonize Eagle, just as we were seeking his wisdom. Do you think he seeks to stop us?"

  The hawk had stillness in his bearing, then he blinked. "The serpent always lies."

  "Everyone lies," Ratatosk added and the hawk snipped at the squirrel with its sharp beak. Not fast enough to reach it. The squirrel shifted further away and Vedrfolnir had to unfold those great big wings to move, making it too slow for the speedy and nimble squirrel.