Son of Thunder (Heavenly War Series)

by S. C. Mitchell

  Yet Heimdall was a fountain of information and a true treasure of Asgaard. And Jord loved the old god.

  “So Megingjörð has adopted you,” Heimdall said to Meghan. “It is good to at least have it back with us.”

  That bothersome belt. Why in the world had it locked itself around Meghan’s waist?

  “Have you picked up anything about the belt lately, Heimie.” He was asking a lot of his old friend, but he knew Hiemdall was as anxious to find Jord’s father as he was.

  “Let me think.”

  Heimdell’s eyes glazed over as he ran through the billions of sights and sounds his mind accumulated over the past weeks. When he spoke, his voice was different, mimicking the true speaker of the phrase.

  “You should have heard him roar when they took his belt.” Heimdall’s voice was higher—the accent reflected that of the dark elves.

  “The belt was just gone, and he’s none too pleased.” That Heimdall said in a lower, guttural voice. It had to be a giant.

  “I have located the belt in Midgaard. It is at a museum, in a city known as Minneapolis.” This time Heimdall mimicked a feminine voice.

  “Bring me that belt and the Son of Thunder.” That voice was unmistakable. Fenrir. Jord reached out and grabbed Heimdell’s shoulder. “Stop, old friend. Go back to the last vision. What do you see?”

  “Giants and dark elves.” Heimdall now spoke in his own voice. “Armies massing for war. The Great Wolf leads them. They mass at Utgard Keep in Jotunheim. They will march soon.”

  Heimdall’s eyes cleared. “That was yesterday.”

  An army massing at Utgard Keep and under Fenrir’s command would be a dire threat to Asgaard.

  “You’d best get that vision to Odin.” Jord patted his friend on the shoulder. “Go to him. I must stop by to see my mother first, but I will meet you there as soon as I can.”

  Jord grabbed Meghan’s hand. “Come on, we may not have much time.”

  Jord was tense. Meghan could feel it. Something big was happening around her, but she’d no idea what it was. As Jord guided her through the great city, Meghan was stunned at the grandeur of it. The buildings and fountains, parks and plazas, everywhere she looked she was surprised and impressed with the perfection of it all. There was not a pile of trash to be seen or even a leaf out of place.

  And the people. The men were all tall and handsome, the women stunningly beautiful. Ivory skin and blond or reddish-blond hair abounded. Most seemed young, though she saw very few children.

  But there was something in the air Meghan could feel. The people seemed tense; worry lined the faces of many. They spoke in hushed voices. Suspicious eyes darted from side to side as the people slunk through the streets. A dark pall seemed to have descended on the golden city.

  They came to what she could only describe as a fortress, resting against one of the stout city bulwarks. Tall towers and thick walls ringed a massive central keep.

  Meghan was astounded by the size of the building. “You live here?” If this is what Jord called home, he had to be slumming in Minneapolis.

  Jord shrugged, his broad shoulders making the gesture seem comical. “It’s my parents place. I have an apartment in the Cities. It’s much cozier.”

  A huge front door opened automatically as they approached and they entered into a grand foyer. A fountain dominated the entry and was framed by two huge winding staircases. A young woman stood in front of the fountain.

  The woman was stunning. Radiant gold hair spilled across her shoulders. She literally sparkled.

  “Jord.” The woman held her arms wide.

  “Mother,” Jord acknowledged, accepting the hug.

  No way. This woman could not possibly be old enough to be Jord’s mother. Then again, nothing made sense lately, so why not? This place and these people were all totally unbelievable.

  Jord turned toward Meghan. “Mother, this is Doctor Meghan Larson.”

  The woman beamed a smile at Meghan and held out a hand to welcome her.

  “Welcome to our home, Doctor Larson.”

  Meghan took the offered hand. It was warm . . . real. “Thank you, Mrs. Thorson. It’s really quite a place you have here.”

  The woman seemed confused for just a moment, but then her face brightened. “Please, call me Sif.”

  Jord smiled. “Mom isn’t Mrs. Thorson. I was named in the old Nordic tradition. My father is Thor, so I am Jord, Thor’s son . . . thus Thorson.”

  Bells were going off in Meghan’s head–old memories of her mother’s favorite stories. “Wait a minute . . . Asgaard, Sif, Thor. Are you telling me you’re the son of Thor, the God of Thunder, from Norse mythology?”

  Bingo! The belt seemed very pleased with itself as its voice resounded in Meghan’s head.

  “Okay, now I know I’m dreaming.”

  Sif shook her head. Concern clouded the woman’s face.

  “I wish that were true, dear. Mortals that get caught up in our business do not tend to fare very well.”

  Sif turned to Jord.

  “Jord, why would you bring this mortal to Asgaard?”

  Jord shrugged and pointed toward Meghan’s waist.

  “It’s Megingjörð mom. The belt seems to be convinced Meghan needs to be a part of this and it’s being completely unreasonable about it.”

  “I see.” Sif’s eyes traveled down to the belt. She reached out to touch the buckle and her serenity crumbled just a bit. Meghan could see concern on the woman’s face.

  “That’s why I came here first.” Jord raised his hands in frustration. “You seem to have a connection to the belt.”

  Sif knelt down. “Megingjörð, my old friend, tell me what you know and why you’ve put this poor mortal in such danger.”

  Meghan felt a bit uncomfortable with the woman talking to her belly. She realized this must be what pregnant women feel like when people talk to their babies. How many times had she done that? Okay, she made a mental note never to do it again.

  The woman was silent for a long moment, then nodded her head. “I see.” She rose to her feet.

  “It appears the dwarf that made Megingjörð crafted better than we knew, all these many years. The belt has been compelled to follow a destiny. A course has been set.”

  Suddenly Meghan began to speak, but the voice was different from her own. She had no power to stop. No control over what she was saying. An icy chill crept up her spine.

  “Know this,” Meghan heard herself saying. “The Son of Thunder and this daughter of Midgaard will venture to the lands of Svartalheim and Jotunheim, to the very bowels of Utgard Keep. The power of the three artifacts will be reunited and the old ways will pass. A secret from the past is the key to the future, but a life must be freely given if the golden city is to be saved.”

  Jord’s eyes widened, but Sif grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and hurriedly wrote down what Meghan was saying.

  “It’s a prophecy.” Sif Jammed the paper into Jord’s hand. “Take this, and her, to your grandfather. Tell him everything. Odin will know what to do.”

  Sif then shoved Jord and Meghan toward the door. “Go!”

  Chapter 4

  “What would you have me do, Freyr!” The King of the Norse Gods was an imposing figure. “This prophecy is very specific. It says this daughter of Midgaard.”

  Freyr didn’t back down. “What chance has a mortal in the land of the dark elves, let alone Utgard Keep? You would be sending her to her doom.”

  Meghan had been standing for over half an hour in Valaskjalf, the great hall of Odin, as the gods debated her fate. The place was seriously creeping her out.

  The tall, intricately carved columns and heavy wooden beams made the great hall seem foreboding. Then there was Odin himself—the eye patch, the two crows on his shoulders, and
his tendency to wave this big spear around when he got agitated. And he’d been constantly agitated the entire time she’d been there. This barrel-chested, white-bearded old man was no Santa Claus.

  Then there were the dead, the Einherjar. Jord explained they were the spirits of warriors who died bravely in battle. They floated in from other parts of Valhalla, sometimes wandering right up to her. Jord was very specific. “Don’t stare at them, don’t talk to them, don’t even make eye contact if you can help it.”

  It all started well enough. A group of gods had been gathered in the hall when she and Jord entered. Heimdall had just finished telling about what he’d seen and heard, and the gods were deep in discussion.

  Talk escalated to arguments, and voices rose. From what Meghan picked up, an army of dark elves and giants was preparing to invade Asgaard. With everything else that was happening, of which Meghan had only heard bits and pieces, this new revelation was different—more important. It threw the gods of Asgaard into a frenzied state.

  Amidst the clamor, Jord reached his grandfather, Odin, and handed him the prophecy. That brought silence to the room for a moment, but after its reading the place again exploded into chaos, as many of the gods and goddesses raised their voices to be heard above the clamor.

  At last Odin raised his hands and his voice. “Silence,” he bellowed, and the hall quieted. “I would take private council with my grandson and this mortal. Leave me, all of you.”

  There was much mumbling and grumbling but the others started to leave.

  “And you Einherjar.” Odin swept his hand to indicate the spirits floating through the hall. “Go back to your feasting hall. Can’t you see you are frightening our guest?”

  Suddenly the great hall was empty except for herself, Jord, and Odin. Meghan felt small in the presence of the King of the Norse Gods, but he smiled kindly at her.

  “Forgive us, mortal. There is much fear in Asgaard these days and unless I am blustering and ranting at them, most of these fools would be wringing their hands in despair.”

  Jord was all business. His brow crinkled as he confronted Odin. “Grandfather, is there no way to get her out of this?”

  Odin shook his head. “Defying a prophecy is a slippery slope. It clearly states she will go to Svartalheim and Jotunheim. For your part I can see an out. It only says a son of thunder. That could be one of your brothers.”

  Jord shook his head. “Magni and Modi are both away from Asgaard now, looking for father, and I am fully ready to undertake this, but it does seem a dangerous task for a mortal.”

  Odin paused in thought, running an absent hand through his long beard. The two crows launched from his shoulder and circled his head.

  “Is anywhere safe now? The giants openly attacked her on Midgaard and, with Fenrir on the march, it appears even Asgaard herself may no longer be a safe haven. Megingjörð must remain with us, in any case, and it has locked itself around her waist. The prophecy says you will both go to Svartalheim and Jotunheim. It does not state you will go together. I think it would be best if she went with you willingly, or she may well be taken there as a captive to fulfill the prophecy. You know how these things work.”

  Jord paced back and forth in front of Odin’s great throne. “Could this be a false prophecy?”

  Odin stood and the crows once again settled on his shoulder. His gaze turned to Meghan. “As to that, Megingjörð appear!”

  Meghan felt the essence of the belt pulled from her. A sphere, like a mirrored ball, grew out of nothingness in the hall next to Odin.

  “Whence came this prophecy, Megingjörð?” Odin demanded of the ball.

  “I am not the prophet.” The belt’s voice filled the room and seemed to come from everywhere at once. “After I escaped the dark elves I felt compelled to seek out this mortal. I created a box around myself and transported to her library, something I’ve never found in my power to do before. After Meghan and I became one, the prophecy sought us out. It comes, I believe, as much from her as me. This is why I will not release her. I can feel the thread the Norns are weaving. My fate and hers seem irrevocably intertwined.”

  Odin regarded Meghan. “Come here, girl. Let me see you. Do not be afraid.”

  His one eye stared at her. She felt as if the god was looking through her, into her soul. A part of her was fascinated to be this close to the legendary Allfather of the gods. Another part of her wanted to run in terror.

  “There is something about you,” Odin murmured, “something hidden even from me. I see strength in you, and resolve. I think, perhaps, this test is right for you. But you need to know what you are getting yourself into. I imagine Jord has told you next to nothing of the events here lately.”

  “There really hasn’t been time.” Jord raised his hand in protest, but Odin merely waved him off.

  “For thousands of years the evil wolf-god, Fenrir, has been held captive by Gleipnir, a magical rope. A little over six months ago, he escaped. The how and why are still unknown to us, even hidden from the mighty Heimdall. We do know it had to be one of us, an Asgaardian, that set the wolf free.”

  Odin bowed his head.

  “While most of us stayed here to search out the traitor amongst us, my son, Thor, and some of the other gods went to search for Fenrir. The others returned in time, finding no sign of the wolf-god, but Thor did not return to us. None have seen him these past six months.”

  “I have!” The voice came from behind Meghan. She turned and saw a tall, redheaded man standing in the doorway. He was leaning slightly on the doorjamb. The man was dressed in what looked like fifth century, Nordic clothing, and armor, but it was torn and tattered, and he was bleeding from a dozen wounds.

  “Modi!” Jord ran to the man and helped him to one of the benches in the hall.

  Odin approached the newcomer. “I have sent for Idun. Grandson, what has befallen you?”

  The man was breathing heavily. He looked worn; his strength spent. “Word reached me that Father was being held captive in the dark elf fortress at Nokkurra. So I went there and I found him. Lord Odin, he is fettered by Gleipnir, and they have taken Megingjörð, Járngreipr, and Mjolnir from him. Before I could reach him, I was overwhelmed. It was all I could do to fight my way out. But I will gather a force and return. I will rescue him.”

  “You will do nothing of the kind, Modi.” The voice was Sif’s. She’d come into the hall unnoticed. With her stood a tall, stately woman.

  The woman with Sif wore long, white robes, and had her head covered with a light blue scarf. In her hands she held a covered basket. Meghan watched as she knelt by Modi, and pulled a knife and an apple from the basket she carried. The apple was golden. Not yellow gold, but the true, metallic, gold color. She cut a slice from the apple and held it to Modi’s mouth. The man ate greedily of the fruit and Meghan was surprised to see his wounds start to close almost immediately.

  Jord stepped next to Meghan and pulled her back, away from the man eating the apple slice.

  She was close enough to Jord to whisper in his ear. “Who is he?”

  Jord kept his voice low. “Modi is my older brother. He, my other brother Magni, and I have never stopped looking for Father these past six months. It appears Modi found him.”

  It was then Modi seemed to notice Meghan. “A mortal? Here?”

  Odin backed toward Jord and Meghan. “More than just a mortal, I think. This is Meghan Larson. She has brought us back Megingjörð.”

  Modi’s eyes scanned down to Meghan’s waist and widened in wonder. Despite his surprise, Meghan could see he was spent.

  It was Sif that intervened. “You are to bed and rest, young man. Your quest now passes to Jord.”

  There was relief on Modi’s face as he looked up at Jord. “See me before you leave, little brother.” Sif ushered him out the door before he could say more.


  Odin leveled his gaze on Jord “So it appears your quest starts in Svartalheim, as the prophecy foretold.

  He turned to Meghan. “Will you accompany Jord into danger? The choice is still yours.”

  Meghan took a moment to ponder what she knew, which wasn’t all that much.

  “It doesn’t look like I have been given much of a choice at all.”

  The other woman, Idun, approached, handing Jord two of the golden apples. “Take these, son of Thor, just in case.”

  Jord glanced at Meghan, then quickly wrapped the apples in a cloth from Idun’s basket. Idun turned to Meghan.

  “Have a care, mortal, not to taste or even touch the golden apples. For the gods they are immortality, but for mortals even the slightest touch brings death.”

  Jord held the apples as far away from Meghan as he could. He seemed tense, anxious. “We’d best get going. If they know Modi escaped, they will probably move Father somewhere else. There will be only a short window of opportunity for us to use this new information.”

  Meghan saw Jord taking charge. She gathered they would be heading into some danger, yet she felt safe.

  Yes, Jord and I will protect you. The belt’s voice in her head felt reassuring.

  Odin raised his hands and his voice. “The blessing of the gods go with you, for what it’s worth in these dark days.”

  Jord grabbed Meghan’s hand and led her from the great hall.

  Chapter 5

  Sif was waiting for them by the fountain when they reached her home, a leather backpack in her hand. Meghan noticed the worry lines on the goddess’ face.

  Sif handed Jord the backpack. “I’ve packed some food and supplies, things you might need.”

  Jord placed the two golden apples, still in their wrapping, in the front pocket. His eyes sought Meghan’s. “Remember, don’t ever touch these.”