Son of Thunder (Heavenly War Series)

by S. C. Mitchell

  “We should have more than enough, Lord Thor.” She spat the last two words as almost a curse.

  “Good.” He tried to ignore his mother’s tone. “See that all are fed well.” And he strode off. He had to leave before his will slipped away, before he gave in to the burning ache inside.

  He left the supply area without even getting food for himself. Finding a quiet spot he sat down on the ground and leaned his back against a tree.

  Don’t think about it. Think about the war. The next day should bring them to the Well of Mimir. By the time they got to the well the army of Fenrir would already be inside the tree root tunnels on its way to Urd. There would be no time to catch them while they were still in Jotunheim, but that was probably for the best anyway. Jotunheim was the giant’s home base, when they exited at Urd they would be in the realm of Asgaard, Vanheim and Alfheim—the home turf of the gods.

  His army couldn’t go head-to-head with the dark elves and giants. Fenrir’s force was just too large, too powerful. Guerrilla tactics would be his best bet. Hit and run. Keep them off balance until he could get word to Asgaard to send out their forces to help.

  Jord’s stomach growled. Well, he wasn’t going back to get food now. He rummaged in his backpack and found a cereal bar his mother’d packed there. How long ago had it been since she’d handed him this pack of supplies by the fountain in his home? He still had it. He kept the orb for the chariot in the front pocket of the pack. He’d left the goats out, to help pull the carts in the supply train, but there was no reason to lug about a heavy chariot when it could be compacted for travel.

  Jord unzipped the front pocket of the backpack and took out the chariot orb. It was an artifact of an ancient age, like the belt, gloves, and hammer. If it were crafted today would it be more like an airplane or spacecraft? Did the dwarves of Nidavellir even still possess the knowledge to craft such wonders anymore? None of the gods had even been to the dwarves in over three hundred years, to see what they were crafting.

  The chariot orb caught the moonlight from above. Golden and shimmering, like the chariot itself. The thought of him riding in the chariot during the march, leading his army, never crossed his mind. He wasn’t about to fly over them like some sort of symbol. If they walked, he would walk.

  Unbidden Meghan’s face crept into his thoughts again. As he recalled the hurt in her eyes, it wrenched his gut. And this was only the first time he’d rejected her. How many more times would he have to hurt her, before she turned away from him? Before she stopped loving him?

  He needed to stop this. He needed to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day. Tomorrow they would catch up to the army of Fenrir. Tomorrow there would be fighting. And tomorrow, he would have to hurt Meghan . . . again.

  Chapter 30

  The night air was cold, but not as cold as the chill Meghan felt in her gut. Why had Jord acted like that? Would a hug have killed him?

  Sif put her arm around Meghan’s shoulder.

  “He’s just stressed.” The golden haired goddess shook her head. “Come on, let’s get some food on.”

  So, it hadn’t been her imagination. Even Jord’s mother had seen it. What could it mean? Was Jord hiding something from her?

  It felt good to be active. Meghan could forget, for the moment, Jord’s rejection of her. Fires were just starting to blaze, and pots of stew were already bubbling. Meghan helped set up the trestle tables, then started putting out the sandwiches they’d made that morning. Those who would take the first watch came trudging in to grab food and drinks to take with them to their watch stands.

  Spirits were high within the army as they ate and shared warm companionship, but Meghan couldn’t enjoy it. Something was wrong. She’d seen it in Jord’s eyes. Something he wasn’t sharing. It ate at her all the while.

  It took over two hours to get everyone fed, and by the end she was extremely tired. Grabbing a last bit of stew from one of the pots she found a quiet place by one of the dying fires to sit and eat.

  A large raven perched on a tree branch that hung near the fire. The great black avian was probably just warming itself by the fire, but Meghan didn’t like the look of the bird. Too dark, too black, just like her thoughts. Well, the world would be brighter in the morning. At least that was what she told herself.

  “A long day?” The voice came from behind her. Freyr walked around and took up a place across the fire from her.

  “Have you eaten?” Meghan began to rise. “I could get you some food . . .”

  Freyr shook his head. “Sit. Rest. You look incredibly tired.”

  He seated himself, stretching out his long arms, as the flames flickered between them. Meghan couldn’t tell if he was staring into the flames or at her.

  “I am tired,” she admitted. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

  Freyr’s eyes sparkling in the firelight, almost burning their way into her soul.

  “I imagine you are eager to get home.”

  Meghan had to think about that, and she took a moment before she answered.

  “I don’t know that I can go home again. Everything is different now. The things I know. The things I’ve seen.”

  She paused to collect her thoughts.

  “But, maybe, that’s just what I need after all this.”

  Freyr raised one eyebrow. “You could stay with us. There’s always room for someone as beautiful as you in the golden city. You’d be welcomed in my home for as long as you’d like to stay.”

  Meghan smiled. “Jord told me to stay away from you. That you were only after one thing.”

  Freyr laughed. “Ah, my reputation. Yes, unfortunately it is well earned. But that was before . . . well, a lot of things. I just want you to know I’m your friend. You can come to me if you need anything. And I am not looking for, or expecting, anything in return.”

  Meghan smiled. Jord hadn’t been the only one to warn her about the fertility god. But she’d never gotten that kind of feeling from Freyr. It was Thor that told her about Freyr’s mortal wife and the change that woman had brought about in him. It was a secret. She knew she should keep it that way, but maybe if she kept her questions general enough . . .

  “Is it hard, for a mortal to live in Asgaard?”

  “It can be. It takes something special to spend your short life among immortals. A mortal’s flame burns so much brighter. The light is so intense.” His eyes glazed over. He was thinking about someone else. His wife?

  Meghan felt the warmth, not just from the dying fire, but also from the god, offering his support.

  “I’m pretty sure you have that something special, Meghan,” he added, then rose to leave. “I don’t ever want you to feel alone.”

  Freyr started to walk away, but Meghan had a sudden thought and stopped him.

  “The jacket. It looks like I’ll be spending the battle back here with the supply train. Would you like it back? It is yours.”

  Meghan ran her hand down the sleeve of the warm jacket that had been a gift from Freyr.

  “No, it’s yours.” He winked at her. “Some of the most important battles are fought in the back lines. And it makes me feel good to know you’re wearing it. It was, and still is, my gift to you.”

  He left then, leaving her alone staring into the fire.

  Stay in Asgaard, among the gods? It was a tempting offer. The city was beautiful, the people wonderful. And Jord would be there, handsome, always handsome and young. Jord would be eternally young while she would age.

  How would he feel about her when she was fifty? Sixty? What would it be like to be old in a city of eternal youth? It was foolish to think about, no matter what Thor and Freyr said. Asgaard wasn’t the place for her, nor was Jord the right man for her. When this was all over she’d go home to Minneapolis. She’d treasure her memories of the golden city, and the young go
d she would always love.

  The night started to close in on her as the fire died. The raven in the trees above took wing and flew off, into the darkness. Everything around her seemed so dark. She went to find a place to curl up in her blanket and sleep. Tomorrow would be a better day.

  Chapter 31

  “Lord Thor?”

  A voice woke him from his sleep. Jord rubbed his eyes. Sleep had come hard, and he wasn’t quite ready to be awake yet. A woman stood before him, one of the mortals they’d rescued from the Utgard slave pit. Jord nodded to her to continue.

  “Doldar sent me to find you. The advance scouts saw the last of the Fenrir’s army entering the World Tree by the Well of Mimir.”

  Jord began to pull himself together.

  “How long ago?”

  “Less than an hour, sir.”

  Good. That meant the way would be clear between here and Mimir. If they moved fast enough he could send some troops ahead to harass the rear guard of Fenrir’s army while it was still in the root tunnels.

  Jord was still holding the chariot orb. He must have fallen asleep with it in his hand. He threw the orb back in the front pocket of his pack. He didn’t even take the time to zip the pocket, but quickly hoisted the pack to his back and prepared to rush off and find Doldar.”

  “That’s good news indeed.” He said patting the young woman on the shoulder as he went by. “We’ll need to hurry, though.”

  “My lord?” The woman crouched behind him. “You dropped this.”

  Jord glanced back, and his jaw dropped in horror. In her hand she held a golden apple, the last of the two Idun had given him in Odin’s hall. The apple had lain, all but forgotten, in the front pocket of his pack where he stored the chariot orb. The woman reached toward him, offering the apple, little suspecting she held her doom in her hand.

  “No!” Jord snatched the apple away. How long could a mortal touch one of the golden apples before they were doomed? “The slightest touch,” he’d been told.

  “Oh!” The woman grabbed her wrist. “My hand is suddenly so cold.”

  Jord’s heart ached for the woman. There was nothing he could do for her. He saw her wince and grab at her forearm. She suddenly looked ready to faint.

  “Rest a moment.” Jord helped the woman to the ground, then threw his coat around her.

  “You must hurry, my lord. Don’t worry about me. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “I have time.” He rubbed her arm. Trying to bring warmth back he knew was gone forever. “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Anna. Anna Brown.” She was shivering now as the chill of death moved through her.

  “Anna. That’s a nice name.” He wouldn’t tell her. It would be cruel. Just talk to her and comfort her as much as he could until the end.

  “Do you have anyone special in your life, Anna?” He just wanted to keep her talking. Keep her calm. Let her slip away as peacefully as possible.

  “My folks, up in Moorhead,” she said. “They must be wondering where I’ve gone. It’s been months since the giants took us.”

  The woman was slipping away. Her eyes were glazing over. Jord’s heart ached for her. “Us?”

  She smiled a bit. “Mike and me. Mike was my husband. It would have been three years next month. Damn giants killed him almost right off. Mike was a fighter.”

  There were tears in her eyes. This woman had been hurt deeply, yet had survived in the cruelest of situations. Now fate dealt her a fatal blow. Poor Anna. Poor Mike. They should have grown old together. Had children. Grandchildren.

  “It feels like I’m gonna go see Mike now.” Her face was drawn. Her body went limp in Jord’s hands. “I did something wrong, didn’t I? Touching that gold apple?”

  “No, Anna.” Jord shook his head. “I did something wrong. I should never have let it drop. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

  “You got nothing to be sorry about.” She smiled up at him. She was shivering and Jord took her into his lap and rocked her, like a baby.

  “You saved me. I’d have died in that place. Sooner or later we all would have. Giants just kept bringing in more. If I die here, I can at least die free, because of you.”

  Jord couldn’t speak. His throat was thick.

  “Wish Mike could have seen you, Lord Thor, knocking them giants around like you did.” She was smiling through her pain. “But I aim to tell him about you, when I see him.”

  Jord smiled down at her, but his heart was bursting with sorrow. “You do that, Anna. But you also tell him how you helped me. Tell him how—”

  He looked down. Anna’s eyes were closed. She wasn’t breathing. Jord waited, but he knew. There would be no Valkyrie for Anna Brown. She hadn’t died heroically in battle. Yet none of the heroes in Valhalla had more courage, or deserved more honor than she.

  The fragility of mortals was never more poignant to him than at that moment. This was what the gods of Asgaard fought to protect. They had failed Anna and Mike, somehow, all those months ago. And he’d failed her again this morning.

  He picked Anna’s body up, but as he held her he thought of another mortal. Meghan. Would he fail her also?

  As he carried Anna Brown’s body toward the center of the camp all he could think of was it could have been Meghan. The more time she spent around him, the more chance there would be he would make that little mistake that would get her killed. He had to drive her away, get her home, back to Midgaard, where she’d be safe from him.

  He told his army what had happened. He used the incident to instruct the mortals among them of many of the dangers around them. They built a pyre and burned Anna Brown’s body. The gods honored her memory. It took time they didn’t have, but it was necessary.

  When it was over he saw Meghan approaching. There was love and conciliation in her eyes. Her arms were open. It would have been wonderful to accept what she offered. Jord frowned at her, shook his head, and backed away. He saw the confusion and hurt. The way her shoulders slumped. Inside his stomach churned, his heart ached. He wasn’t ready for how strongly he reacted to her hurt. But he held it in. She’d never know. She needed to stop loving him. More than ever he was determined to drive her away, and kill the love that had been growing between them. It hurt, more than any physical blow he’d ever been struck, but it needed to be done to save her.

  “We have to move out.” Jord shouted, and the camp began to mobilize. He threw himself into the work, not giving himself time to think about it—about her.

  He found his father, and as he expected, the troops under Thor’s command were ready to go before everyone else.

  “Can you move out now? I’d like you to enter Yggdrasill as soon as possible, and put some hurt on their rear guard.”

  Thor raised a brow in query. “Maybe even get into their supply train?”

  “Don’t take too many chances.” Jord looked around at the people getting ready to move out with his father.

  “I won’t.”

  Jord saw his father’s eyes harden. This action would cost some of these people their lives. War was like that.

  “Dad, how do you do it?”

  Thor put a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “It never gets easier. I’ve lost a lot of friends and comrades over the years. Some of them, well, I still can see their faces. It kicks you in the gut. Makes you question the order you gave, or the decision you made, that cost them their lives.”

  Thor patted Jord’s shoulder. “But it’s got to hurt, you see. If it ever stops hurting, that’s when you need to worry. Then you’re becoming like them.”

  Thor waved his hand toward the world tree, toward the army of Fenrir.

  “They throw lives away like a bucket of dish water. They don’t care how many die, as long as they can spread their evil, gain power over
the weak, and put more wealth in their pockets.”

  “It isn’t how we do it, it’s why we do it, that counts. We cannot let them win. We must fight them with every fiber of our existence. What good would our lives be anyway, if they prevailed? We’d all be slaves.”

  “So we fight them, and some of us die. We honor our dead, push our sorrow deep inside, where it can fuel us, and sustain us, then get back up and fight some more.”

  “They don’t understand. They think our sorrow, our love for each other, is a weakness. But it’s not. It’s our strength. Each one that falls makes the rest of us stronger. No death is in vain.”

  “Even Anna Brown?” Jord found that hard to believe.

  Thor looked Jord directly in the eye. “Especially Anna Brown. You remember her, Jord. Keep her with you as you fight this war for her, for all of us.”

  Jord thought he understood. “Take care of yourself, Dad,” Jord studied the troop of men and women getting ready to move out. “Take care of them, too.”

  Thor nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  Jord tried to see as many faces as he could. He wanted to remember these brave people. For some, he knew, this would be their last day.

  “It is a good day to die,” he remembered saying, joking one time before a giant raid with his father and brothers.

  He’d been wrong. It was never a good day to die.

  Chapter 32

  The huge tree dominated the landscape around them. Yggdrasill, the world tree, had one of its great roots here, by the well of Mimir. Green foliage now blocked out the blue sky. In the distance Meghan saw the great, gnarled tree root extending toward a small lake. The army marched out of its way to avoid it.

  “The well of Mimir.” Sif pointed toward a grove of trees to their right. “The well of wisdom.”

  Meghan was confused. “It sounds like something we could use right now. Why are we avoiding it?”