The Apples of Idunn

by Matt Larkin

  Tyr headed for the feast as soon as he found someone to take in the varulfur twins.

  Odin arrived after him, though. Up to something once again.

  “Tyr,” Idunn called from behind him. In her arms she carried one of the varulfur twins. Took her away from the midwife already?

  “Lady Idunn, welcome. Do you realize the child is a werewolf?”

  “Of course she is, Tyr. Isn’t that amazing?” She pinched the varulf’s cheek. “It was so magnanimous of you to spare these two. It makes me proud to be your friend. And we will be friends, I promise.”

  She spoke rapidly. Tyr’s head spun untangling her words. Hadn’t even started on the mead. “I welcome your friendship, my lady. And I hope showing the wolves mercy proves a wise decision.”

  “Mercy is always wise,” she said, continuing forward until she stood right at his side. “And what are we going to call these hungry little puppies?”

  Puppies? “Odin said he’d call them Geri and Freki. He plans to raise them as his own.”

  Idunn clicked her tongue and rubbed Geri’s chin. “Little Geri werewolf! I bet you’ll have the most beautiful fur when you learn to shapeshift!”

  “No doubt,” Tyr said dryly.

  “And now, darling Vili,” she said and kissed the top of the berserk’s head, “would you mind terribly looking after poor Geri a while? I need to steal your friend away for a private conversation.”

  Several of the men and no few of the shieldmaidens whooped and beat on the table.

  Idunn smiled. “Seems they like the idea.”

  Tyr wouldn’t mind some alone time in his house with the beautiful goddess. Did she know what those warriors thought? Was she truly oblivious, or just coy? Either way, ripping off her silky red dress was all he could think of. After bloodletting, sex was all most men thought of. Shieldmaidens, too. Killing made you remember living.

  He offered her his arm, and she took it, walking out with him. Outside, the afternoon was setting. The mist had begun to thicken. Numerous fires around the town kept it away, as they kept away the worst of the cold. Kept it at bay for now. But all fires dwindled in time. Hymir was fond of saying so, and the jotunn did not lie. Not about that.

  Idunn led him around the town a bit, chattering about the goings-on while he’d been away. How a shieldmaiden was now with child. How a hunter had found a bride in town. About the dwindling food stores and how lean the winter would grow.

  Tyr grunted at each story, never certain what to say. At least not until she led him into her house and beckoned him sit before the fire pit.

  A pot hung over it, boiling some odd-smelling brew.

  “What is that?”

  “Hmm? Tea. Would you like some?” She scooped out a mugfull.

  He took a large swig of it. Scorched his mouth, tongue, throat. Left him gasping. “Bitter as a troll’s arse! Some vӧlva medicine? I am not ill, goddess.”

  She giggled, then gingerly sipped from a mug herself. “To your continued good health then. So tell me, champion of the Wodanar, how did you fare in the Athra lands?”

  “Uh. Godwulfs are pressing out all their borders. Athra are falling one by one.” He recounted his tale while she listened, only occasionally asking questions.

  “So,” she said when he had finished. “This Hallr Stonecrusher would be the new jarl. And would he fare better than Alci?”

  “Alci’s ambitious, but Stonecrusher is a fucking traitor. Less honor than a troll.”

  “Hmmm. Interesting thing about honor, viewed from the long perspective. It can be everything, and it can be naught at all. The Vanir made many choices for the sake of expediency. Wrong choices perhaps, but only history can judge, if even then. Men look at the world from but a single vantage point.”

  Tyr cracked his neck. “I know naught about such things. I know Borr taught me honor is the one thing no one can take from you.”

  She raised a finger, sipped her tea, then nodded. “Perhaps. But then, if you hold to it so stubbornly that the world freezes around you, and your people falter and die, that honor will not warm you in the lingering cold. Then, perhaps, your persistence in taking the high road becomes a matter more of pride, and from there but a short stop to reach hubris.”

  “Huh. So … Placing my honor above the needs of the people is … arrogant?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, Tyr. But if you refuse to stop Alci on grounds of your honor, you must live with the ghosts of his victims. Offer them what explanation you will; tell them how they had to die so that you might remain clean.”

  Tyr scratched his head. Something about all that sounded off, but then, Idunn was a goddess. She ought to know best. He had to put his trust in someone, after all. “So you would have me send Hallr back to his people to kill Alci?”

  “For now, I think, you may be better using him as a spy. Learn what you can until the time is right.”

  He groaned. Intrigue. Lies. Treachery. “Tastes foul.”

  Idunn nodded. “Then I have something sweeter to offer. Odin asked you to be his champion, and thus, asked me to give you this.” From her dress, she drew forth a golden apple.

  From the World Tree. Immortality.

  His breath had quickened. He didn’t remember reaching for it, but he held it now. Warm in his palm. Pulsing like his own pounding heart.

  “If I …”

  “You can live forever,” she said.

  What a thought.

  He bit down. Tastes exploded in his mouth. His throat. His eyes swam. Whole fucking house spun. More. More! Juice dribbled over his face. He was lying on his back. How had he gotten here? Another bite. Another. Fire and ice and life surging through his veins. His heart ready to explode.

  Every muscle tingling.

  Alive.

  So alive.

  The core fell from his half-numb fingers. He rolled to his knees. Room whirling. Round and round, up and down, like a ball. Idunn sitting there, half a smile on her face, watching.

  Her pulse beating fast, in time with his own. Showing through her skin. Through that thin dress.

  He crawled to her.

  “Are you well, Tyr? It can be … overwhelming.”

  Frey’s flaming sword! Whole body was going to fly apart. So alive. And he needed more and more life.

  He launched himself atop her and tore at her dress, hiking it up over her hips. She laughed. Made no attempt to stop him.

  Stroked his cheek as he fumbled with his trousers. “I know. It happens to everyone. But if you choose me you’ll face consequences. Maybe see things you didn’t—ugh.”

  She grunted as he pushed inside her. He pounded again and again, choking in fervor. Not able to find release. Frey! He just needed to let go. To be with someone again after so long. To hold her.

  “Zisa,” he mumbled.

  “No.” Idunn shoved him backward, then straddled him. “I am not her.”

  She grunted, panted. And then screamed, laughed. Waves of it hit him. Made him spasm. Time stopped.

  Idunn sat in the shadow of a tree that touched the heavens. Sat with an old woman, deep tan skin, short hair. Talking, arguing. And somehow setting the course of the future.

  And the old woman died. Idunn carried her ashes across the world, beyond the Midgard Wall, and vanished into the snowstorms. The chaos realm. She had walked into Utgard.

  “I’ve eaten some bad mushrooms …”

  Idunn leaned her face, glowing face, radiant, close to his. He lay on his back. “I warned you.”

  22

  Idunn emerged from Tyr’s house, flushed, her dress torn.

  Odin watched her, arms folded over his chest. She jumped just a little when she saw him, then flashed her wicked half smile.

  “When I asked you to give him an apple, I did not expect you to give him so much more.”

  She shrugged. “We all have needs. The apples are so imbued with the energy of life they tend to bring those needs to the forefront.”

  Odin quirked a smile. “You wer
en’t concerned about my needs when I ate my apple.”

  Idunn grinned. “You didn’t ask.” She winked and returned to the dance.

  Son of a bitch. Did she mean she would have …?

  Now there was a missed opportunity he’d regret for eternity. He shook his head. “Walk with me, Idunn.”

  She smoothed her dress and fell in beside him, apparently trying to ignore the rip running up the red silk. Odin stifled a chuckle. In his fervent lust, Tyr had ruined fabric no doubt worth more gold than the thegn had ever seen.

  When they had passed away from the other houses, he turned on her. “I have agreed to your terms, Vanr. I must soon choose the rest of my companions. Give me the last three apples.”

  Idunn quirked a smile. “Have someone in mind?” She drew the apples from her dress, and he dropped them in his satchel.

  “I might. But before I can become king, I have something more I need.”

  Idunn sighed. “By the Tree, Odin, I beseech you for the good of all, let this thing go.”

  He scowled. Already knew what he’d ask then. Ve was blood. And for him, Odin would never let go. “Where do I find these Niflungar?”

  “Such ancient peoples are best left forgotten. They serve as a distraction from your true goal.”

  He clenched his fist at his side. His true goal was saving his brother, and if the ghost could do that, he’d take any action on her account. “I have an oath to uphold, one made before my oath to you. Help me fulfill that oath, then I will tend to yours.”

  “These people worship Hel, Odin. They draw strength from the Otherworlds, and it changes them, turns them into something you cannot imagine. They were driven from these lands long ago, and even if I knew were they now hid, I would not tell you. Do not disturb their rest. Better for you, for us all, if they are left to slumber.”

  Odin slapped his fist against a tree trunk. “Enough! If you won’t help me I will find someone who will.”

  “Odin!” she shouted after him. He did not stop, did not turn back to face her. The goddess was quick to offer assistance—when it suited her—and withhold it when it did not. And that refusal reeked of betrayal. Or his own delusion in allowing himself to believe she cared aught for the anguish suffered by Odin or his kin.

  Leaving her behind, he trod to where his new blood brother took shelter. The man sat awake, staring into the flames of his fire pit almost as though he expected company. “Do you know where the Niflungar lurk now?”

  Loki motioned for Odin to sit across the flame. “Welcome, brother. Still you seek this amulet, and it so vexes you, but at last you begin to realize the questions you ought to have asked before embarking on this undertaking.”

  Odin groaned but did take the seat. “Damn it, Loki. Can I not have a straight answer?”

  “Would you know one if you stumbled upon it?”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  Loki dug a finger into the ash around the fire pit, drawing a line. “The simplest way to reach from one place to another is a straight line.” He dropped a stone in the middle of that line. “Unless of course a mountain blocks your path. Then you must assess whether to go around, under, or over—all to reach a destination you cannot actually see.”

  “I’m not looking for a metaphor.”

  “Perhaps that’s the problem. You assume that, despite the mountain in your path, the simplest road must still be a straight one.”

  Odin snatched the rock and flung it out into the snow. “Who are the Niflungar? Where do they dwell?”

  Loki sighed. “What do you know of the Old Kingdoms?”

  Odin groaned. Now more lessons. “They dominated the North Realms for a long time. You said they all fell apart some eight hundred years ago, left a bunch of ruins. Oh, the Odlingar were one of them.”

  “One of nine kingdoms. Also among them, the most feared, most treacherous, were the Niflungar. They tried to conquer all the North Realms, and though they were defeated, it was not before breaking many of the Old Kingdoms, and not without great cost to those who remained. The Niflungar fled from these lands and retreated into myth, into restless sleep, awaiting the day they might return.”

  Gods, what had he agreed to? How was he to find these people at all in three moons, let alone retrieve the ghost’s stolen amulet? In a moment of desperation, he’d made any bargain he could to save his brother. Once again, he’d been a fool to give no thought to the cost. But he no longer had a choice. He had to save Ve.

  “Brother …” Odin blew out a breath. “In the time I have known you, I have come to rely a great deal on you.”

  “You honor me with your trust.”

  “Then tell me how to find the Niflungar. I understand what you say. Even Idunn tells me to turn away, that these people draw strength from the Otherworlds. But I cannot turn back, surely you understand that. I will not abandon my brother to mist-madness. The ghost is the only salvation I have left to turn to.”

  “Salvation is not the province of ghosts,” Loki said, then sighed. “But yet, their power comes from an Otherworld—Niflheim, the World of Mist and domain of … Hel herself.” Loki almost seemed to choke on that. Frightened? Him? “They are sorcerers, Odin, masters of the Art who would leave your vӧlvur trembling in pools of their own urine and begging to wake from nightmares without end. And you are so resolved to seek them out?”

  “I have to!” Odin leaned forward. “Do you not understand family, man?”

  “Yes, brother, I understand family.” He looked to the fire pit and shook his head. “There are those who can answer any question, should they be so inclined. They can speak of all who walk on Midgard and even those who dwell beyond, for they watch from outside the bounds of time as we see it. You call them Norns. And they will have your answers, if you can ask the right questions.”

  Norns. Weavers of urd, mistresses of fate. Every step he took carried him deeper into mist-madness. Into realms beyond those of men, beyond where any sane or living soul ought to tread. And still, there remained no way back. Only forward. “So be it. Take me to them.”

  “I will arrange it.” Loki rose.

  “Wait, brother. I … I owe you more and more with every passing day. Idunn has asked me to become King of the Aesir. I would have you by my side in this.”

  Loki folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head. “I already swore a blood oath to you.”

  Odin fished through his satchel and pulled out an apple. “You know what this is? Eat it when you find yourself free to take a woman.” Or three.

  Odin’s foreign brother stared at it before taking it and slipping it into a sack at his side. “Even if you find the Niflungar, even if you steal the Singasteinn back from them, still you have made other oaths that bind you.”

  “Yes. That’s why I need you to help me become king. I gave apples to my brothers, too, and to Tyr.”

  “A few immortal warriors alone will not put a crown on your head.”

  Odin grunted. “No. But with them and Gungnir, it’s a damned good start. I’ll bend the people to my will if I must, and offer them a better future.”

  “Offer them? Or thrust it upon them for their own good? Thus speaks many a tyrant.”

  Odin’s fist clenched at his side. Who in Hel’s name did Loki think he was? Odin had just given him fucking immortality, and his brother compared him to a tyrant? “Is that how you see me?”

  “No, but others will. If you choose to follow Idunn, then consider carefully how you do so.”

  Odin worked his jaw. In truth, Loki was probably right. As usual. But Loki also understood the twisted urd cast upon Ve. “I had to make this bargain.”

  With a sigh Odin rose and left to walk the grounds. In the day, the mists weren’t as bad, and one need not fear the vaettir—at least not as much. According to Idunn, he should now be immune to the effects of the mist. He was one of a lucky few, while the rest of the Aesir suffered under a plague stretching back five thousand years. But still, he’d be careful to heed Heidr’
s words on caution. It was a mistake he would never repeat.

  In the woods just beyond the tents, a horse neighed. Odin jerked at the sound. Horses were rare and valuable beasts, and the Wodanar had few enough that no one would let one roam free. He crept forward to the edge of a copse.

  Despite Odin’s attempt at stealth, Loki beckoned to him. Odin rose to join him, then balked. The horse Loki led had eight legs, a pair jutting from each shoulder and hip joint.

  “What in Hel’s frozen underworld is that?”

  “This,” Loki said, guiding the horse toward Odin, “is Sleipnir. Finest steed in the lands, and one who can guide you anywhere in Midgard and beyond.”

  “It’s a fucking monster.”

  The horse snorted at him, eyes seeming to flare red.

  Loki nodded. “Yes. Legend says before the world was formed, there slept great primeval monsters of chaos. Their offspring became dragons and monsters. Before the mists, many had been driven into hiding or hunted to extinction. Long ago, great winged horses were common, and such a beast could have taken you anywhere. Now few, if any, remain. But Sleipnir is ancient and wise. Earn his trust, and he will earn yours.”

  Earn the damned horse’s trust? Like a troll’s rocky arse. “And the horse will take me to the Norns?”

  “They are keepers of the past, present, and future. Sleipnir has seen the secret places they dwell and can carry you there. But I urge you to use caution among them.”

  Loki was a bit too full of his own mystery. “You speak like a vӧlva, man. Can you not just guide me yourself?”

  “Trust me, brother. And trust Sleipnir.”

  Odin sighed and shook his head. Truth was, he could afford to waste no time. Three moons sounded long enough to find a tribe or kingdom nigh to Aujum. But a foreign people, driven into hiding? And sorcerers. Human warriors Odin could best, monsters he could slay. But magic was a thing not meant for men.

  Nor could he leave Ve for long. By Frey’s flaming sword, he would not lose his little brother. Odin’s mother was gone, and now his father. No more. There was no time.

  “Tell the others where I have gone.”