by Poppet
Chapter 17
from where will a sun come into the smooth heaven
when Fenrir has assailed this one?
~ Vafþrúðnismál
Leug:
Finally I find him. Waiting for me outside the entrance to Hel. He stands out on the basalt darkness of volcanic ash, having cleared the snow while he waits, creating a circle of black, a battle zone with a boundary.
Ewan always did like to fight in the limelight, in his pit of suffering. I don't abide by your rules spawn of Odin, I am a freeman, the only free Æsir, and now, you will taste my ás-móðr (divine wrath).
Seeing me, he roars savagely, breaking the crepuscular stillness of my haven. Odin's bloodline have so many anger issues, so many prideful pursuits to prove, always so deficient they feel the need to prove their worth because they know inherently that they are worthless.
Standing my ground, invulnerable to the bite of the Arctic wind, I look down at the inferior sized giant. This isn't a fair fight, I can't battle this man.
Lifting my chin, I respond to his savage war cry with a quiet tone, leaving the hush of my power to roar instead, through his heart, through his spirit, “Ewan, thank you for answering my invitation. It's time we had a heart to heart little man.”
“Hand her over!” he shouts, petulant and demanding.
Rage, it accomplishes so little. Pointless.
Raising my hand, gesturing to the sky, I pace, slowly, my zen unruffled, my calm complete, saying, “I have news for you about your precious Odin. It's time you woke up and as they say, smell the coffee.”
Out of my periphery I see three women run out the entrance to Niflheim; Hel, Emma, and the one I know from a photograph. Deliah, the twin to my sváss. Nodding acknowledgement, I note Sköll and Hati come and stand behind them, their father conspicuously missing from witnessing this endgame.
The circle closes, the ring complete, let this winter be the last for our kind.
Ewan bellows across the blackened ring, the air vacuous between us, ignorant that I am the air, I am all around him and yet he cannot recognize me. I have him surrounded, yet he perceives me as weak and impaired. “Lara! Now! No more talk old man, your death looms closer than a noose. Hand over the innocent!”
Shaking my head, I look up, muttering, “She flies across the sky, I don't think now is an opportune moment to interrupt her jubilation.”
Another savage growl and he's thundering across the makeshift zone, throwing eggs at me, blasting lightning up in impressive spires of electricity.
I am fire, I am immune to such a paltry display of fake power. He's just a novice trying valiantly to be a man in a god's world. I pity him.
He rushes me, fist poised, knuckles passing through me when I spin out of his reach, no more than a gossamer illusion hovering my visage in the air before him.
I am eternal whereas his lord is infernal. This is no contest. I refuse to be baited by his pettiness.
His anger makes him a fool when he stumbles and maneuvers, rampaging back toward me. Shoving my wind at him, creating a barrier to stay him, I walk up to press my nose against his, enjoying how the man is straining against the gale, distorting his muscles, wearing his battle gear, the berserkr enraptured with his own rage.
Softly, I whisper, “Thor will die by the bite of Jörmungandr because he is ineffectual against fate. Odin will die by Fenrir's bite. All that Odin created will fall away and his slaves set free. He has no power here.”
“Heretic! How dare you! Thor is my father! He rides the skies, he watches, he will strike you down after I batter your bones to mash!”
Laughing, hands clasped behind my back to taunt him with my confidence, I turn to our audience, raising my voice, “Thor only rides the skies because he has a little chariot pulled by goats. Without them he's landlocked, Ewan. Your father is a bad rendition of a magician, as are you.” Spinning to face him, anger beginning to bubble my blood, I snap, “Without his props he has no power. Odin only rides the sky because I gave him a steed who can run on air! My son, from my womb! Do not preach to me about the might of your gods, not when I'm the idiot who gave them their fucking power!”
“Mjilnör will hammer your ego to dust you motherfucking prick! Give me the girl!” he shouts, sweating profusely, the strain of standing his ground against my gale becoming a sufferance for him.
“And Mjilnör only comes to Thor if he's wearing his fucking gloves! Did you not pay attention in class as a boy? Who has his gloves, Ewan? Who? Me, that's who! And do you know why, because I was there when they were made! If you'd paid any attention whatsoever in your lessons you would know that it was the same day that I created Odin's magical spear which always hits its target, what a poor pity it is that you did not inherit something worthwhile from your grandfather!” Tilting my head, I survey Ewan, “Your father has hair so red it makes him look ill. You do not look like your sire, Ewan. Are you sure Odin hasn't played you for a fool?”
“Fuck you!” bellows, his rage now palpable.
*
Deliah:
Emma grins at me, arms folded, seeming uncaring that the final showdown is playing out right before us and we still don't know where Lara is.
Leaning in, she says quietly, “I've been doing my homework. It's true. I thought Thor was blonde and sexy, but he's not at all. Hollywood has a lot to answer for, giving ladies fantasies with a false image of him. He's ginger, more ginger than a Spice Girl, hairier than a tarantula, and absolutely useless as a god. His only grace is the fun he got up to with Loki, and because of who his father is.”
Scowling at her, I ignore the stupid thur. She's been useless as an ally to wage war against Leug. If she'd just done what I told her the king of hel would be imprisoned all over again, this time with no one to save his sorry arse.
Watching the two opponents with paranoia, I listen intently, my tension giving me neck cramp.
“God will strike you down with his army, you will never rest in peace Logi! Never!”
Leug shrugs, taunting Ewan, but his visage is beginning to crack with the first evidence of irritation.
“Who is god?” he says, turning to Ewan.
“Odin! Jøl! Whichever name you wish to call him, he is god! He created the heavens and the universe, he created mankind, he's the father of the giants, he is your As and you ignore that at your own jeopardy you stupid fuck!”
Leug finally snaps, shouting back, punching an accusing finger toward Ewan, “He is NOT god!”
“Yes he is! No amount of denial will change the facts!”
“Your god has a god,” hisses Leug, his ire so vivid I feel as if he just flayed the flesh off my soul with his enunciation.
“Oh fuck you! Let me at you! Let me murder you once and for all because Odin's strength is in me. I'll show you who is god in the tradition of my forefathers! You're a coward for holding me back with your elemental magic!”
Leug hinges, his ire blatant, his muscles so engorged he looks invincible and gigantic, all muscle and vein, his body becoming larger by the second.
Then he shouts into the world, the resonance deafening, humming my body like a tuning fork, his voice so pure when enraged, so encompassing that it is a force all its own, “Búri is god! Búri is the father of Odin! He is not just the father of Odin, but of Ve and Vilir too, all three created equal! Your god is not alone as a god, his abilities are shared with his brothers! You ignore that because you are an ignorant shit! Your beginning has a source, your father has a father, your god has a god, and he is a master of peace, of all manifestation, of all creation before your fucking grandfather Odin corrupted the purity for his own egotistical shallowness. He hollowed out the husk of creation and called it his own kingdom! I damn your Odin, I damn your god, I condemn the fathers of Valhalla, I accuse the Æsir for aligning with a madman and swearing allegiance to him! I condemn you all for persecuting innocent children, for allowing mankind to do what Odin did to my offspring! Hel is not your home and neither is Valhalla, and Asgard is
overcrowded because it only has room for him! Your god answers to his god! And he neglected to tell you he is nothing without his father!”
Ewan looks pale, as if he's having doubts, then remembers his mission, his pasty face hardening with rage, “Give me Lara! Give her to me now or meet me as a warrior!”
Leug's voice peals across the sky when he shouts, “I will not give you Lara! She is Búri's daughter! You may not have one more holy than yourself! You, like your grandfather, will corrupt her essence for your own gain! So be it. Let the gods witness that you insisted I fight you, do not let your warriors mourn and exact revenge because their chief is an idiot! Ragnarök is purely to end Odin's reign, no other god need be a part of the battle. This is not your fight. What kind of a god sends his grandson to wage his war? Odin created mankind, Búri created the holies with bodies. That is why mankind worship Odin and we ignore the fuck out of that megalomaniac and pay homage to his father instead. Prepare!”
And before I know what the hell is going on Leug has become a storm of hail, pelting Ewan with tennis ball sized nuggets of ice.
Hail Leug. I'm impressed. All hail the one man I've seen who yells back at these men of power, putting the record straight. Shit, does that mean I'm god's very own daughter too? Lara and me being special? Is that why there's a war? Are they truly fighting to control god?
I love Ewan, but he's revealed that pride does indeed come before a fall. It's not my place to wage this war for him. I've been traumatized, abused, misused, I know what it's like to be a victim, and I know when I hear the truth.
Now I understand Emma. This is not our war, this is not our issue, not when all we seek is peace.
Leaving the scene of carnage, the wind unbearable, the ice so frigid and the atmosphere so tense I feel wounded without having participated, I go looking for Lara. Hel smiles, turning away with me, taking my hand in hers, leading me into her domain.
“We'll send the wind to call her home. Don't fret for her, Liah. Your sister is not alone, Búri calls her home.”
Chapter 18
Eastward sat the crone in the iron wood,
and there brought forth Fenrir's offspring.
Of these shall be one worse than all,
the moon s devourer in a demon s guise.
Fill'd shall he be with the fated's lives,
the gods abode with the red blood shall stain.
Then shall the summer sun be darken'd,
all weather turn to storm.
~ Edda
Gunn:
I'm too late, the siege is underway, Ewan against Leug, the two blurring and morphing, Ewan's sword shooting rainbows across the sky to compete with the aurora borealis.
Now I must wait my turn. I'm honor bound to step in if Ewan falls to the sword, but if he does fall I could be chief, I could love Deliah in his stead... my conscience wages between honor and desire.
Perching on a jagged outcrop of ice in Eagle form, I watch the men below, amazed by the power of the one we call Logi.
*
Macala:
As shadows we flit inside the cave, wisping in and out of sight, no more than an extension of the world of darkness.
Leaving Arghin to stand guard, I slink deeper into the channels of hel, breathing in the comfort of this place. I thought it would be harsh and ingrained with suffering, but it's just so … peaceful.
Touching the glazed rock, melted and recolded, remolded, tempered, reformed, a living testament to the changes a spirit goes through on the journey of purification, cleared of karma, I find a shadow stretching for my attention.
It wishes to commune, so I lean in, closing my eyes and extending my own harii mist. Breaking contact wrath envelops my reason, my purpose. Leug and Em have had intercourse!
No!
Damn you Leug! Forever and ever!
Knowing where the conflict plays out, I go running for the melee, ready to brawl that bastard to death, once and fucking for all.
*
Lara:
My heart tugs and tugs, breaking the sublime drift between the bands of evanescent light, losing the touch of tranquility and homecoming, the love infused into me carrying me on the curl of a beam, leaving me reeled closer to the ground, calling my name.
Looking down, disoriented when I do, I wonder if I'm looking up to look down, or if I'm looking the other way, or if I'm really seeing.
Disbelief wipes the jubilation out of my mind and spirit when I spy Leug in a rumble, rolling and clashing, one second a wolf, the next a shaft of light, the next a column of ice, throwing icicle needles, then he's a flea, then a siren screeching like a banshee, then a child throwing a grenade; a viper, a rock, an ox, a three headed dog, a one eyed slug, all gargantuan in size, changing and changing and changing.
Ewan's shaking hands reach for a battle-ax, at least I assume that's Ewan.
He's fighting for me. I will go down and tell him not to, I belong to no one, I simply exist to free the wind and birth light. I love Leug, and in that, all knowledge is safe.
Coalescing, undulating, I ripple through the moonbeams, rolling between the men, standing as they charge, a bellow pulling my focus to the entrance where a tall man with a glowing eye glares at me, his glower penetrating the gloom with the brilliance of a shaft of truth, his sword spinning over and over and over like a drunk snowflake, and before I can react I realize it's aiming for me. Screaming, holding my hands up, roars on either side of me as the warriors charge, metal ices through my chest, solidifying me completely, crushing me to the ground, impaling me to mother earth, the ice inside me splintering and cracking in an almighty rift, the fire bursting out, the lava spewing, burning my skin, the shriek I hear the saddest wind to ever blow.
*
Leug:
My greatest fear materializes, Lara appearing between Ewan and myself, both of us already full throttle, unable to halt in time before smashing her between us, a scream from the ether warning me, instinct forcing me to look up, the winter's sword flying through the sky, straight for her. Becoming air, I bend and twist and strain to stop the trajectory, but it's too swift, the sound of her spirit sliced and shattered too soon.
Falling over her, trying to staunch the loss, the rupture, the carnage, the anguish, a woman's keen of grief splits the lights, the sky instantly pitch dark when the aurora cease their celebration.
I love you so much, and now I'm losing you, the way I lost Skadi.
Anguish rises up from the cluster of my source, in my sacral shield, the bellow of grief beyond my control, the sorrow splitting me into a million billion particles of dust.
As ash I cover my love, my heart, my rebirth, my hope, my essence, layering over her in a blanket of extinguished pyre, the volcano bursting forth from Hel's mountain, the ice barrier dropping, the shelf splitting, avalanches rushing down the steep incline, rock and ice and lava rushing to my feet, blowing us away.
I made her me, and I made her vulnerable.
They win.
They murdered not me, but the one who was me, the one I gave everything to. I existed through and in her, now we're both destroyed. Just left to drift on as shattered thoughts, carrying away on the winter wind. The only way to end me was to end her. And that they have. Today is the day.
*
Gunn:
I watch Ewan stagger and fall to his knees, bloodied and brutalized. Macala rushes out to the steaming liquid rock glowing fire into the sky, lifting Ewan out of danger, literally carrying my chief to the entrance of hel, Deliah running at him, hitting him, biting, kicking, flaying, screaming obscenities that would shame a criminal.
Emma turns into an owl, flying once over the lovers petrified as rock, blowing away with every gust the way a spire of ash once did after napalm burned down its sin.
Landing in front of Ewan, she becomes mist, blasting Macala with light, screaming at him for being judgmental and murdering Lucifer, of ruining all hope the world ever had at being free from tyranny, then standing as herself, staring her harii eye in
to Ewan's, their words too soft to discern.
I should do something, but don't have the courage to show myself now. I am drawn to her calm in carnage. I could use a woman like that in my life.
The chief staggers and stumbles, crawling back to the hardened and dead form of the god Leug and the female Lara.
A sword sticks out of the stone, mocking a long ago legend. Macala's sword. Without it he cannot be chief, and he cannot enter Asgard. He fucked himself in the process. It's just considering he just slew Búri's daughter. There is no afterlife for a warrior who murders the perfect out of wounded pride.
*
Deliah:
I refuse to believe it unless I see it with my own eyes. Emma sounds like a raving lunatic, and I'm so hollow with grief that I'm having a fucking hard time breathing right now. Holding it together with this last shred of hope, I drop to my knees, tears streaming down my cheeks, crying for Lara, my angel, the only friend I've ever had. My sister, who was my sister before we knew we were bloodkin. I love you!
I'd do anything, anything! I will stand before the gods and hand Ewan over myself, I will end all wars singlehandedly to get her back.
Anything!
Just please, please, oh god please....!
*
Hel:
Sitting with Carmen, we share a secretive smile. None of them knew. They couldn't know that only love separates the wheat from the chaff. They had to go through this, all of them, to understand that Odin is a dead god who only lives on in memory. He has no power, he never did. He used the power of his own creation, never wielding it himself because when he sold his spirit for insight, he lost the part of himself that was god.
