by Matt Larkin
“Thank you,” he whispered to Sleipnir before dismounting and joining his brothers.
Vili ambled over the moment he spotted Odin. “Sons of Borr together again,” his middle brother said.
Odin clapped him on the shoulder. “Indeed.” He cocked his head at the mutton. “And how well you know me.”
He snagged a leg of mutton and bit deep, shuddering with pleasure as its hot juices dribbled down his chin. He took a swig of mead, then looked around.
“Where’s Ve?” He had dared hope the apple would have revitalized the boy.
Vili belched out a raucous laugh. “Little brother’s been plowing the goddess’s trench, putting the two of us to shame. Spends all his time in her house.”
A pit opened in his stomach that had naught to do with hunger. He handed Vili the mead skin and mutton. “I’d better check on them.”
“You think he’d let us join in?”
Odin glared at Vili, who jerked back and then let out another rumbling chuckle. Odin stormed off toward Idunn’s house. Vili was an oblivious fool and always would be. And if things had gone badly, maybe that was a mercy.
He paused on the threshold, listening. Just in case Vili was right. Inside, a girl sang softly, though not Idunn. What in Hel’s frozen underworld was going on?
Odin stuck his head in the tent to find Jorunn sitting in front of Idunn, singing of valorous battles against the jotunnar long, long ago. Ve sat on a cot, skins wrapped around himself, gently rocking back and forth to the melody, eyes staring vacantly ahead.
Idunn had positioned the smith’s girl such that both the small fire and Idunn herself blocked clear view of Ve. The goddess crooked a half smile at Odin’s entrance. “Did you know this girl has a lovely singing voice, Odin?”
He shook his head. He’d had no idea. “Indeed you do, girl. Why don’t you grab some mead at the feast hall? They’ve started the night meal early tonight.”
“What’s happened?” he asked the moment Jorunn left.
Idunn ground her palms into her eyes. “I should have given you the apples sooner. I’m always too late. I keep trying to be like her, and it’s never enough.”
Odin knelt beside Idunn and reached a hand to her shoulder. “Be like who?”
“My grandmother. She was a hero, Odin. You’d have liked her, I think. A warrior like you—”
“What is happening to my brother?” he demanded. Odin had no patience left for Idunn’s prattle. “You said the apple would halt this!”
“I think … part of him wants it.”
“What? What did you just say?” She grimaced as his grip tightened on her shoulder. He knew he was hurting her, but he couldn’t make himself stop. “You were supposed to be taking care of him, Idunn! I trusted you. Half the tribe thinks you’re in here fucking his brains out. And … and you’re saying he wants to lose his mind? So what in Hel’s frozen underworld—”
Idunn’s face darkened, and she shoved him so hard he tumbled over. “Do not use those words. My grandfather died to stop that frozen underworld from becoming this world. And I … I would have gladly slept with Ve if I thought it would have saved him. Do you think I want to watch this happen?”
Odin rose slowly, gathering himself, before stalking to his brother’s side. Ve’s eyes glimmered red, and he gnashed his teeth as though they pained him. “What are the mists doing to him? And what do you mean he wants it to happen?” When Idunn didn’t answer, Odin turned back to her only to find her looking away. “Idunn?”
She shuddered, clutching her head in her hands. The goddess, looking so vulnerable. Afraid. Such a thought did not comfort him. “A person can fight the mists—for a while, at least. He’s not fighting hard enough, and they’re swallowing him up inside. Leaving room for something else.”
Something else? Gods, she meant a vaettr was possessing Ve. “Use your sorcery. Cast it out.”
“I can’t. For Ve, it’s as if whatever is inside him is filling a void. Part of him wants it there.”
Odin placed a hand on Ve’s head. It burned as with fever. “I just need time! Time to find the Singasteinn and earn favor from that ghost.”
“Are you so certain she can halt the transformation?”
Transformation? Hel’s frozen … Odin let the thought trail off. When he stood, he almost fell over. The ground seemed to sway beneath him. Was this his fault? What would drive Ve to such loneliness that he’d rather be possessed than face it? Ve had always been … just there. Odin watched out for him, never let him get over his head in a fight. What more did the boy want? A woman? Had Ve needed a wife? He’d never asked Odin to arrange a marriage, but maybe Odin should have broached the topic himself. Vili had been content to foster bastards on every willing maid in the tribe. Odin had just assumed Ve would be the same.
Or was it something else? Had Odin and Vili pushed Ve aside? No, no damn it. All he had to do was honor his oath to the ghost. She would stop this.
“Fuck me,” he mumbled. Unable to look at Idunn or Ve any longer, he staggered out of the house, wandering until he at last collapsed before a fire.
Someone offered him a stein of mead, and he kicked it back, hardly tasting it.
“So, brother,” Vili said, “tell us of these vӧlvur you went so far to see.”
Odin turned slowly to the berserk. He was completely oblivious to what was happening to Ve. Gods, they had ignored their little brother. And now … now Odin was going to fix it. No matter what it took, he was going to save Ve. No, not just Ve. He was going to save all his people.
“Well?” Vili asked. “These Norns?”
Odin hesitated. The Norns spoke in riddles, but what he’d understood of it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, like a splinter in the back of his mind. Talk of fire and flood and betrayal would only distress the others, and even if it were all true, they could do naught about it. “You know vӧlvur. Stuck on their own mysteries. Now is the time for drink.”
Vili chuckled and nodded. “Meat and mead both!” Just like that. The world was so simple to Vili—action without consideration of consequences. Odin tried to share his joy, but there was no joy in him. He could feel the emptiness in his own heart, borne of his failures and weaknesses. Failures he could not repeat. And it wasn’t his brother’s counsel he needed, was it? For a time he sat with Vili, before slipping off to find Loki.
He had not gone far however, when Tyr intercepted him. Part of him wanted to wave the thegn away, to push forward toward the only thing that mattered. Loki might know where to go to save Ve. But Odin himself had made Tyr his champion and his voice, and he had made an oath to Idunn as well. “What is it?”
Tyr grunted, dropping whatever greeting he’d intended. “I did what you asked. Found a way to draw the Hasding tribe to our side.”
“Good. Yes.” Halfhaugr was central to all the tribes. If he controlled that, winning support at the Althing became that much easier. “What did you offer them?”
“You are to marry the jarl’s daughter.”
Odin sputtered. “Marry the … She’s a fucking vӧlva, you fool!”
“Everyone will fear you. Respect you.”
The king with a witch bride.
“Jarl Hadding is not long for Midgard,” Tyr said.
Odin groaned. And Frigg was his only heir. The plan had the barest hint of sense to it. Enough to keep him smacking Tyr for his folly. “You overstep your bounds.”
“You said to make you king. Few drops of blood on the wedding bed. Save you rivers of blood on the battlefield.”
Odin clenched his fists at his side. Gods but he wanted to hate Tyr for this. “I have other things to tend to.”
He left Tyr standing there, no longer caring what the man had to say. Only Ve mattered now.
Odin’s blood brother had climbed a hill some distance outside the town and sat alone beside a small fire. The trek was short, and after so long on horseback, any chance to stretch his legs was welcome.
“Welcome back,” Loki said when Odin re
ached the top. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
Odin slumped across the fire from Loki, then kicked at some of the loose kindling. The fire sputtered and seethed. Like Odin, recoiling from outside forces. Every step he took seemed to carry him further into damnation, all while Ve dwindled. “I’m not sure. But for certain Sleipnir was an aid. Thank you for that.”
“Then keep him. He’ll be loyal to you for as long as you return it.”
“A fine gift.” Not so long ago he’d seen the horse as monstrous. Now he knew better. Sleipnir was glorious. And everywhere Odin rode, men would look on with awe. Maybe that had been part of Loki’s plan all along. “And I want you to have something … Another of the apples, brother. One to give to whom you choose as your companion in life.”
Loki opened his mouth, then swallowed without speaking.
Odin raised his hand, forestalling the need for thanks. Loki had earned all Odin could give and more a dozen times over. And now Odin needed his counsel more than ever. The foreigner had a way about him, and if anyone could handle the details of his visit with the Norns, Loki could. Odin’s blood brother had become his last hope to save his true brother.
He told Loki all he could recall of the Norns’ prophecies and riddles. And at last he told him what Idunn had said of Ve.
And when he had finished, Loki nodded. “So what do you want to do?”
A part of him wanted to simply ask Loki what to do. But if Odin was to be King of the Aesir—a role Idunn had forced upon him, true, but one he had pledged to accomplish—he needed to make such decisions himself. He drew in a deep breath and blew it out before speaking. “Tyr would have me marry Frigg Haddingsdotter. A vӧlva. But the Niflungar …”
“You don’t know where to find them.”
“I was hoping you would tell me.” The ghost’s curse coiled around his heart, crushing it, threatening to steal away those he cared most for. His brothers were all the family he had left.
And all of this because of his damnable pride on the mountain. Had he not gone after Ymir, Ve would not have caught so much of the mists. He’d not have needed sanctuary in the Odlingar castle. The varulfur would not have come to the feast. Like a wretch, he brought misery upon his tribe and his own kin. Or was he but a fool for not considering the consequences? For not heeding Heidr’s warnings about the cost of all actions. No way remained to him, save forward.
“What of Tyr’s plan, then?”
“Marry Frigg?” The woman was attractive, for certain, but Odin was hardly ready to settle down with a wife. “Marriage would mean passing up on a great many willing girls. Why settle for one love when you can have many?”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “Is that love?”
Odin shrugged. “Physically speaking, anyway. Besides, the woman is a vӧlva. How could I marry someone like that?” Legend said to sleep with a vӧlva was to risk falling under her spell. To say naught of dealing with a wife who’d always have to act like she knew more than she really did. That bit was like to grow tiresome about three days into the marriage. If that much.
“A vӧlva touches the Otherworlds, and is touched by them in turn. The marriage might serve more than one end, should you let it.”
Now it was Odin’s turn to raise a brow.
“What do you know of seid, brother?”
“A vӧlva’s magic. They see things, know things, can bespell a man’s mind.”
Loki nodded, then stirred the fire. “There are two kinds of energy at play within us, Odin. One kind is stronger in men, one kind stronger in women. When men and women are intimate, they can draw out a small portion of the opposing energy, balancing our own. When you bring her to fulfillment, part of the energy she gives you will be that that feminine energy.”
Odin scoffed. “You’re saying I can fuck the magic out of a witch?”
Loki frowned. “That was vulgar. If you are to be a king, you must rise above vulgarity, no matter where you came from. What passes for the jarl of a small tribe will not pass for a king. And, no, that wasn’t what I was saying. Naught is lost, just shared. Her vital energy passes into you as yours passes into her, and from it you may gain a hint of seid.”
“That’s a power for women.”
Loki raised a finger to forestall the objection. “You want to unite the Ás tribes under your banner, and you’re going to be swayed against gaining power and insight because it’s unmanly? Perhaps Idunn did not choose her champion carefully enough.”
Odin’s fists clenched, but he forced himself to keep them in his lap. “How dare you? I will lead our people.” He would do aught to save Ve.
“Then lead. Take the power from her, and you may gain a glimpse of the things she sees. With it, you might understand riddles that otherwise leave you out in the cold.”
Odin grunted in disgust. Tyr had little love for Odin’s foreign brother, but they both of them agreed on this damned wedding. And if it could tell him where to find the Niflungar …
Gods, Loki was right. Marrying Hadding’s daughter would give him so many things he needed. And maybe, one day, there could be something more between them. She was regal, intelligent. She would make a fine queen. And other tribes couldn’t help but fear the man with the monstrous horse and the vӧlva queen. He sighed and let his face fall into his hands.
Finally he stood. “Prepare yourself. We leave for Halfhaugr in the morn.”
28
Clay pots, metal vials, and bowls of Freyja alone knew what all came crashing onto the floor as Frigg swept her arm over her work table. Sigyn’s sister wailed and leaned against that table.
After blowing out a slow breath, Sigyn moved to Frigg’s side and set a hand on her shoulder. Very few people ever saw a vӧlva lose her composure. The respect their titles carried demanded they hold themselves above others, above petty human emotions.
Frigg turned toward her, and Sigyn embraced her older sister.
“Naught I try helps him.”
Sigyn held Frigg at arm’s length so she could see her face. Their father had had a long life—longer than most jarls could hope for. It was the way of things. But now that Frigg could no longer stave off the inevitable, she seemed to take it harder than she should have. Or maybe Sigyn would have felt the loss more poignantly had she not been pushed aside and cast out by nearly everyone she’d ever known.
“Perhaps no brew can help him.” Sigyn squeezed her arms. “If it is his urd, he will die.”
Frigg scoffed. “I didn’t think you believed in fate.”
Sigyn shrugged. “You do, vӧlva. That’s really all that matters here. Not that I think that’s all that weighs upon your mind this afternoon. You’ve hardly left this room since Father agreed to have you wed. For all your plans to sway Odin, you never actually expected to get him, least of all like this. You went hunting for a bear and, on finding one, only then realized you have not armed yourself for such prey.”
“Odin isn’t prey.”
“And yet you pursued him as such. Had you slept with him, could you truly have swayed his mind with your trench? Or is that all vӧlvur bombast meant to discourage men from raping your kind?”
Frigg’s face fell, touched by a hint of fear that tugged at Sigyn’s heart. She had not expected that.
“You don’t know. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
Frigg turned from her then, leaned back on the table, shoulders slumping.
Damn. She never had learned to mind her tongue. “Don’t fret over it, all right. In fact, forget such things. You spoke with this man. Tell me of him.”
“Angry … He is so angry.” Frigg turned to look at her now. “Consumed with it, like his insides were caught aflame. A fire rises in him, one fit to consume Midgard.”
“Is that your vision?”
Frigg sighed. “It was difficult to make sense of it. But I saw myself as his wife, side by side, ruling over a great city like the ones in tales of ancient times. And there was fresh water, greenery, plants—like summer. A summer that didn’
t end. I think Odin won’t be a mere jarl—I think he will be a king. And there was war, yes, famine, flame.”
Sigyn tapped her finger against her lip. What was she to say to something like that? Frigg seemed so convinced of herself, it almost made it hard to doubt her. So had she seen a vision of her future with Odin? And why was Sigyn even here, forcing her to talk of it? The decision definitely had naught to do with a masochistic need to see Frigg, of all people, find a marriage while Sigyn remained alone. “The Ás tribes have not had a king in a long time, but even if they raised one, what has that to do with summer?”
Frigg considered for a moment, her eyes latched onto Sigyn’s face. “What if the world could change? The Vanir are said to live in islands of spring—of warmth that does not wither and fade after a few moons. What if somehow Midgard could share such a destiny?”
Sigyn shook her head, then rubbed the bridge of her nose. Now they had devolved into true vӧlvur pomposity. Breathe in the smoke of a few strange plants and call the hallucinations visions. If that’s all it took, she could be a vӧlva herself. But these women convinced themselves what they saw was truth—albeit not always literal truth. It could be a metaphor. And since no one could really disprove a metaphor, a vӧlva’s visions could hardly be disputed. All very convenient.
But Frigg clearly would not allow herself to be easily dissuaded about this. Sigyn sat on the cold stone floor. “The world has been covered by the mists of Niflheim for as long as anyone remembers. These stories about a time before the mist—they’re probably just stories. Who wouldn’t dream of a better world? No matter what world we live in, people will look around and imagine it could be or could have been better.”
If Frigg thought some rage-mad jarl could change all of Midgard, she was thinking with her heart over her brain. And Sigyn was beginning to think Frigg did have feelings for Odin. Perhaps those feelings had been born of Frigg’s visions—a self-fulfilling prophecy of her love for him. And though Sigyn had not met him, he didn’t sound fit to be king of aught.
“What if I could be a queen?”
