Pyramid Power (ARC)

by Dave Freer

Thor's laughter nearly started several avalanches on the surrounding hills. When he eventually managed to speak it was pretty asthmatic. "I'm not the sharpest file in the box, but those frost giants..." He started laughing again.

  "Will someone please tell me what is going on," said Liz crossly.

  "I think Thor just put one over that frost giant," said Lamont, still holding Marie.

  Thor nodded happily. "They have ice for brains. He never figured out that I wasn't the one that tricked that smart-ass Alvis. My poor daughter Thrúd. She should never have agreed to it."

  Lamont could believe that Thor would never have managed to outwit any smart-ass. "So... um, who did trick this... Alvis?"

  "And what did your daughter agree to?" asked Marie.

  Thor smiled. "Gol-teeth was getting a little particular in his attentions to my little girl. He's a real philanderer, that one! So she said she'd only entertain the advances of someone who could defeat her old man in a duel. That's my girl! I hear it put off a fair number of Ás, including old one-eye. Then up comes this smart-ass black dwarf, ugly as sin—and he says he has come to take up the challenge for my daughter's favor. Only since he is not the challenger, honor says that he gets to choose the weapons. And he chooses a battle of wits. A test of knowledge."

  Thor coughed. "It's not exactly my strongest point, I reckon Odin put him up to it, because who else would have thought of it?"

  "So what did you do?" asked Lamont.

  Thor grinned. "The trickster stood in for me."

  "Loki, you mean," said Emmitt. "I thought he was the bad guy."

  "Nah. Well, yes. But not on purpose, a lot of the time. He's just... kind of heedless. And he loves making mischief, just to see what happens." There was a troubled note in Thor's voice.

  "So what did he do?" asked Ty.

  "Loki asked the dwarf a question as long as the Midgard serpent's tail... and kept the smart-ass showing off until sun-up. Smart-ass turned to stone, then," said Thor, cheerfully. "I have the little bastard's head as an ornament. Thrúd likes to go and sit on his head from time-to-time. You'll see it when we get to Bilskríner."

  * * *

  Liz had to admit that the goats made good going across the snow, despite her impatience. At least they did not encounter any more giants. Instead they came to a vast causeway of light that led to the gates of Asgard, and the end of the snow. The goats just kept right on going, cloven hooves clattering across the solid rainbow, to the giant-built walls of Asgard.

  "Did you sell the wheels?" demanded the tall, slightly sneering man at the gate-arch. He cradled an enormous horn with a sliver mouth-piece and silver chasing around the rim in his arms. "And why are you bringing a bunch of your Midgarders to the home of the gods?"

  Thor shook his fist at him. "Shut up, Heimdall. I'll take who ever I want to Bilskríner." They bumped past, under the disapproving gaze of the watchman of the gods.

  "He needs a T-shirt that says 'honk if you're horny'," said Marie disapprovingly. "He looks a bit like fat-ass, my old boss."

  "He doesn't like me much, but he's still too scared to make something of it," said Thor. "So he contents himself with sneering at me and kissing up to Odin. Smarmy bastard."

  The sled continued to bump and slither its way down an earth track. Liz's American companions seemed a bit startled by that, but she wasn't. All over Africa people still used sleds towed by oxen, in a total absence of snow. And those two goats were nearly as big as oxen, and amazingly strong.

  They came over a slight rise and saw a huge thatched hall. "Bilskríner," said Thor proudly. "It has five hundred and forty rooms."

  "Any of them bathrooms?" asked Liz, noting that the thatch was in less good repair than it might be.

  "Water washes away your strength," said Thor, earning himself instant popularity with Ty and Tolly. "But we have a steam room."

  "That'll have to do, although it wasn't quite what I had in mind." Liz was almost at the point of twisting her legs around each other, and wishing fervently that the sleigh didn't bounce quite so much. There was no smoke rising from Bilskríner. Liz was willing to bet that most of those five hundred and forty rooms, including the sauna, were unoccupied.

  She was quite right about that. There was a stable-thrall, who by the looks of him had been asleep in the hay-loft a few moments back. But then all he had to care for was two goats. The huge place was conspicuously empty.

  "Where is everyone?" asked Ty eventually, as Thor led them in from the stables.

  "Probably over in Valhöll," said Thor, gloomily. "But Sif, Roskva and Thjalfi should be here. As often as not, they're not, though. Thrúd always pops in. Modi and Magni spend all their time over at Valhöll. So: as I said, welcome to my humble home. What can I offer you?"

  By the looks of it, thought Liz, nobody had better ask for much. But what she said was: "What I really want is information. I want to know if they brought..." she thought how best to put it, and settled for "my man, here. You said those warrior types..."

  "Einherjar," said Thor, his expression bleak. "Odin's chosen warriors. Once many of them cleaved to me. But he and his Valkyries have lured them hence to Valhöll with boar meat, mead from the goat Heidrún, fighting and their ever-renewed virginity."

  The ever-renewed virginity sounded a pain, but Liz could see the attraction of the rest compared to this cold hall. Obviously Thor's thoughts ran down the same direction. "I suppose I did let things slip a bit," he admitted, kicking aside a pile of debris. "The drinking got out of hand. Well, lets start by asking Thjalfi." He bellowed into the dusty emptiness of the hall. "Thjalfi!!"

  There was no reply. No sound of running feet. Thor scratched his beard. "Hmm. Sif!" He tried Roskva next. Still no reply. He shrugged and bellowed back toward the stable. "Lodin!"

  The man who had taken the goats came dog-trotting in and bowed. "Yes, Master?"

  "Where is everybody? Where is that man of mine? I've got some awkward questions to ask him." Thor slammed a huge meaty fist into his palm.

  Lodin looked a little surprised. "He came in last night with the two prisoners."

  Liz pounced on him like a cat. "Prisoners. Where are they?"

  Lodin shook his head. "Two of the Einherjar came and fetched the one."

  "And the other?" demanded Liz.

  "He's still back in the stable, I suppose," said Lodin, jerking a thumb in that direction. "I thought the master must have taken them prisoner. I don't mess with his deeds."

  "Show me," said Liz, taking a firm grip on his collar. "Now."

  So Lodin led them back into the stable—to a pile of straw. "He was here, somewhere. Maybe the goats et him."

  That was said with perfect seriousness. Considering the two goats, it might very well not be a joke at all.

  Looking around, one of the children found a brass grieve, with the leather strap gnawed.

  "Them goats have a taste for leather," said Lodin. "The one the Einherjar left here was wearing those. I guess he must have got loose. Nasty looking coves, both of them." He scratched his head. "Wonder where he could have got to?"

  Liz suddenly had a very good idea where the "Greek Hoplite" agent had got to. Probably a mortuary-shelf back in the USA. But that meant that these Einherjar must have taken Jerry. And at least at that time... he must have still been alive or he too would have disappeared.

  "These Einherjar. Where did they take him?"

  Lodin looked at her as if she was a little simple. "To Valhöll, naturally."

  Liz took a deep breath. "I suppose I'd better get along to this Valhöll place too. Go and sort these guys out."

  Even Thor looked a little taken aback. "I suppose you could pass for a Valkyrie," he said. "But this is not the best of times for going looking for anything at Valhöll."

  "And a bit of caution might just be called for, Liz," said Lamont. "There's no point in you getting killed trying to find Jerry."

  "I've got to try. He'd do the same for me. He has before, crazy fool," she said fiercely, trying not t
o cry.

  "For sure, we have to try. But if I have it right this Valhöll place is Odin's hangout. And it's supposed to be chock-full of his warriors."

  Thor nodded. "The Einherjar. The lone warriors, who spend each night in feasting, fighting and drinking and sport with the Valkyries. And each morning the slain are as good as new and the Valkyries are virgins again."

  "Sounds like a great place for those dragons of Medea's," said Liz. "So what do you suggest, Lamont? Besides me running off half-cocked into a bunch of these hungover warriors. I suppose it is a big place too, and there are a fair number of them?"

  "Each gate is big enough for eight hundred to march abreast," said Thor.

  "Hmm. It must fun to clean," said Liz, who had long since figured that the best reason for a small apartment was that you didn't have quite so much to vacuum. "So what do you suggest? I dress up as one of these Valkyries? Can do, I suppose."

  "I could go over there and ask," said Thor, "He's not going to pick a fight with me. But, well, Odin always talks rings around me. I can never get a straight answer out of him, and somehow I always end up doing things his way."

  He scrutinized Liz for a moment. "You'd need a breastplate and a sword and a shield."

  "Master," said Lodin tentatively. "I could go over and ask."

  "You?" said Thor gaping. "Ask Odin?"

  Lodin nearly fell over backwards into the dung-heap. "No, master! Ask the other stable-hands. They always know what's going on. And they always give me a horn or two of ale. They like you, master."

  "Odin gets the noblemen who fall in slaughter, but Thor gets the kin of slaves," said Thor, sighing. "Ah, well. I think that could work. Find out if Thjalfi is there too, Lodin. If you see him give him a clip around the ear from me and send him home."

  Lodin grinned revealing good, solid pre-orthodontistry skew teeth. "Now that'll be a pleasure. He's changed, master. Not the same man at all that used to come down for a drink with me. And he was sick all over the chariot."

  "Chariot?" said Thor.

  Lodin looked wary. "Uh. Lady Sif said I wasn't to say anything about the chariot—after last time."

  Thor scowled. "I'm Öku-Thor. The charioteer. If I crash it, it's my look-out. Now get along to Valhöll with you! Try to come back sober enough to muck out here. And don't come and tell me what good beer they've got. I'm craving a drink really badly myself."

  Liz noticed that his hands were shaking quite a lot. She wondered just how you dealt with a god who was seeing snakes and pink elephants. Thor might be flabby, and have let himself go, but there was still a superhuman quality to him, besides the smell.

  "How about if we tried this sauna," she said determinedly, turning him. "And Lodin."

  He bowed. "Yes, Lady?"

  "Don't stay too long over those horns of ale. Please."

  He nodded, looking as if this were the first please ever to come his way, and turned toward the stable door, briskly.

  "Don't run. Slouch along like normal," said Thor. "You never know when those damned ravens of Odin's will see you."

  Dead on cue, two black birds fluttered in. "One of them said 'Odin', Hugin. I heard it," said one of the two.

  Thor glowered at the birds. Liz was much more practical. She picked up a piece of broken yoke and hefted it for weight.

  "Caw! You wouldn't dare," said one of the ravens. "We are Odin's ravens."

  "I did earlier," said Liz. "Or have you forgotten the dragon's heart?"

  "Good eating," said the first raven. "You haven't got any more, have you?"

  "We've got a job to do, Hugin," protested the other raven. He sounded exasperated, as if his partner's greediness was a longstanding issue between them.

  "Yeah. Caw. Anything that says we can't eat on the job?" Hugin perched on a rafter. "You speak good raven for a human."

  "Ah," said Liz. "And there I thought you spoke good human for a raven."

  "If you can speak to them," rumbled Thor, "tell them if they're not out of my stable by the time I say Vanaheim, I'll try a lighting bolt on them."

  "Caw. He must more hungover than usual. Come on, Munin. I'm not that interested in who Thor is drinking with."

  The ravens fluttered out with what looked to Liz like a careful show of not being too hasty but really moving rather fast.

  "They all spy on me," said Thor blackly.

  Liz could see why, even without suspicion about what the Krim was up to in this Ur-mythworld. In a way it was a good thing Thor had a drinking problem. It was probably why he hadn't been recruited by the Krim. And the ravens turning up to see who Thor's "drinking buddies" were smacked of the gatekeeper telling tales. They walked back through to the great hall. Thor had a visible tremor in his hands and shoulders, as he opened the door.

  Liz was surprised to see Marie putting a hand on his arm. "You can do it."

  He was panting a little. "It's bigger than me."

  And suddenly Liz realized that he wasn't exaggerating. And he was seeing snakes.

  So was she. Well. One snake. More like a dragon, but without wings. And quite big enough to make up for there only being one.

  It'd be a pink elephant next.

  It wasn't. It was a wolf. A wolf pretty close to the size of the elephant, though.

  Chapter 16

  "Magic has bound him. Magic has to be the way to free him," said Jerry. "And as you two can't do it, it does depend on me. Magic isn't exactly my field of expertise. I was looking for some advice."

  "And there I thought you were a gifted practitioner of Seid," said Loki, mockingly.

  "Shut up, Loki," said Sigyn, with the amiability of a wife who has said this very often. "The mortal comes from another place and time. He is ignorant of many things. He probably doesn't even know what Seid is."

  "Um. No. Actually, I don't."

  "Don't you dare say 'I told you so', Sigi," said Loki, ruefully. "Seid, Jerry, is a magical art practiced by Odin, and by women, because it would be a dishonorable thing for men."

  Jerry raised an eyebrow. "But okay for Odin?"

  "Well," said Loki. "He is the oathbreaker. Maybe he feels no need of such honor."

  If Jerry had it right that was an insult of rare order for one of the Norse.

  "Maybe he's just a bearded lady," said Jerry lightly.

  He sat down rapidly. He had to. Loki was making the floor shake with his laughter. Sigyn was laughing too, so much so that she was actually crying.

  Jerry tried to work this one out. Someone had once said to him that the Norse had been a homophobic culture, and argued that was what accounted for the disdain in which Loki was held for his various cross-sexual shape changes. He'd been the mare that had lured the giant builder's stallion away, causing the giant to lose his deal on the building of Asgard's giant-proof walls. The result was Odin's eight legged horse.

  That was a less than clinching argument, Jerry thought, given that Odin still seemed pretty keen on the horse. But one thing was certain: Women were second-class citizens in the honor stakes—hence allowed to use this "Seid"—and honor was everything in this social milieu. The image of the master of Asgard as a bearded lady obviously had appeal.

  "If only I had thought of that when I gave the Æsir their flyting," said Loki. "I mocked them well, but that's a rich insult. For that and that alone I would give you what help I can. But not with Seid. There are other arts."

  Jerry looked at the tear on the cheek of Sigyn—and began to put it all together.

  "I think..."

  "No! Thor did that once and his head caught fire," said Loki mischievously.

  "I thought you were going to help me?" said Jerry, head askance. You got the feeling that once Loki got into this frame of mind he would only stop... too late. Best stop him before he started.

  "Ah. A point," admitted Loki, readily... too easily, contrite. "What help can I be?"

  Jerry turned to Sigyn. "Lady Sigyn. Would you give me some of your tears?"

  She blinked, and touched her cheek. "You are les
s ignorant of magical things than you would have us think, Jerry."

  The secondary symbolism of tears, especially tears of laughter, liberating things, had not occurred to Jerry until that moment. He'd actually been thinking of salty water. And rust. But Norse mythology and poetry was full of multiple symbolism, so their magic was bound to be also

  Jerry collected some of Sigyn's tears onto a quarter he found in his pocket. It wasn't a lot of liquid, but it would have to do—since the only other possible container was being used to catch snake-venom.

  He wanted all the elements of rapid oxidation: salty water, heat, and rust itself. He felt around for the thongs that had tied him. Symbolic again, if he could get them to burn again by sticking them in the fire.

  Rust... well, rust would just have to be rust. Ideally it should have come from a broken shackle, but rust would affect everything. He'd just paint it in that shape. And the Futhark...

  The runes had each had meanings, evolving much as hieroglyphics had into hieratic script. "I need the runes for water and time—or days. And chants. You can tell me who to appeal to."

  "A good sorcerer in the making," said Loki. "Vidólf was the mother of all witches, Svarthöfdi the father of sorcerers. And Sigyn will show you Dagaz and Laguz, the runes for water and days."

  She scratched them out.

  "This one is 'day.' And this one is 'water'."

  "Years?" asked Jerry.

  She showed him another, and then added a fourth. "And this one is 'Ansuz,' which could be useful too."

  She said the last with an absolutely straight face. Even Jerry, normally oblivious to hints, could catch an elephant like that. He began to draw the runes, scratched into the rust on the iron bonds. A great many years. And fair amount of water, drawn with tear-wetness, and, using the burned ends of the thong, the symbol Ansuz. He hoped that it would give him some, and that he wasn't just being stupid. But Loki's silence was telling. The mischief-god was the original motormouth. He was so quiet it was hard to tell if he was even breathing. And both he and Sigyn were staring with a fierce intensity at Jerry.

  Jerry just hoped his that hair wouldn't catch fire before it was all done. To judge by the sagas, the spells would be in verse. Probably sung...