Thorfinn raced away, stopped, and looked back. “Valgerth?”
Valgerth was staring at Guthrun. “She changed you.”
Guthrun shrugged. “Not enough to kill you. Go find your children!”
Valgerth joined Thorfinn and they hurried away.
Guthrun went to Thokk’s corpse, stood looking down for a long moment, started to walk away, went back, lifted Thokk’s withered remains onto the Altar of Hel. Thokk, she thought. Be at peace, curse you. I don’t think you were evil. You really believed Hel was good. Maybe She is! I know, in one way I do owe Her my life. But I must stand with Bloodsong and my friends on Midgarth! Maybe it’s what Hel really wants. Maybe Hel is playing a game with everyone, including the Gods. But the powers and knowledge you awakened in me? I’m going to use them for good. I vow this upon my soul!
Guthrun stood silently looking at Thokk’s remains a moment more. Then she spit on the Witch’s corpse and walked away.
* * *
Bloodsong raced through the Castle of Thokk, Ulfhild at her side, both following the scent of decayed flesh left in the Death Rider’s wake. Behind them came Huld, Jalna, and Tyrulf. All around lay the sprawled bodies of Kovna’s slain warriors and the remains of black-robed Hel-worshipers. Beasts searched for any who might have escaped. Of Kovna and Grimnir there was no sign.
Bloodsong and Ulfhild followed the death-scent into the stables and to a trapdoor. Bloodsong wrenched it open. An overpowering stench of death wafted up from the dark hole. Bloodsong heard no movement within. “Huld,” Bloodsong said.
The Freya-Witch understood, intoned her night-vision spell, and cautiously peered into the dark opening. She bent nearer, carefully examined the small room below. “Empty.”
“The Death Rider, Axel Ironhand, took Lokith to Helheim,” Guthrun said from behind them. She stood in the stable doorway dressed in the bloodstained black robe of a slain Hel-worshiper. “I heard Hel call to him during the battle. The Goddess empowered him with extra life-energy and commanded him to return to Helheim with Lokith’s corpse.”
“You heard?” Bloodsong asked. “How?”
Guthrun did not reply.
“Guthrun,” Bloodsong said, “the one you call Lokith was your brother, Thorbjorn. Didn’t you know?”
“Of course. But his name is Lokith, now, and someday I will destroy him for all the pain he caused me. You thought you killed him during the battle, Mother, but he was not ever really alive, and death will not mean for him what it means for most.”
Guthrun’s gaze shifted to Tyrulf. She walked to face him, hatred in her eyes. “What is an enemy doing among us? This is the man who led those who captured me.” She looked at Huld. “He helped kill Norda and capture us for Thokk.”
Huld moved to stand beside Guthrun, eyes boring into Tyrulf’s.
“I did not kill the old woman,” Tyrulf told them.
“That is true,” Huld agreed, her voice tight with hate, “for she only faked her death with Witchcraft in the hut and did not truly die until later. But she would still be alive if not for Thokk and Kovna and those who served them, men like you. You should be fed to the beasts like the others.”
“Yes,” Guthrun agreed. “He is no better than—”
“No,” Jalna cut in. She quickly moved to stand beside Tyrulf. “He has proven himself our ally. He helped obtain the magic that defeated Thokk.”
Bloodsong caught Tyrulf’s gaze. “I did not know you led the men who captured Guthrun.” Her eyes touched Jalna’s. “Did you know, Jalna?”
Jalna nodded slowly. “I did, and I meant to tell you several times, but it never seemed the right moment.”
Bloodsong searched Jalna’s eyes. “You were afraid that I would not let him come with us if I knew, afraid I might even kill him.”
“No,” Jalna quickly denied, “that is, not at first. I should have told you.”
“I would have told you myself,” Tyrulf responded, “but for the very reasons you named. After finding Jalna again, I was determined to let nothing separate me from her. I still am. And knowing her loyalty to you?” He ended with a shrug.
Bloodsong looked from one to the other. “You have aided us, Tyrulf. For that you have my thanks. But for helping Thokk to harm my daughter, I will not forgive you. Jalna, if I decide that he may not remain with us, will you stay with us or go with him?”
Jalna started to reply that she would stay, then-hesitated, glanced at Tyrulf, back at Bloodsong, but could not answer, torn between loyalty to Bloodsong and her feelings for Tyrulf. “I don’t know,” she finally said.
Bloodsong nodded her understanding. “I won’t decide now.”
“I will have much to say about that decision,” Guthrun promised, hate still burning in her eyes.
“And I,” Huld agreed.
“Perhaps,” Tyrulf replied, “I will not choose to remain among you.” He glanced at Jalna and held her gaze.
She looked away.
Bloodsong turned and led the way from the stable and across the courtyard, all following except Ulfhild, who held back to reappear in human form a moment later. She hurried forward to walk beside Bloodsong.
“Where will you go now, Ropebreaker?” she asked. “You will always be welcome on Wolfraven.”
“My thanks, Ulfhild, but you heard what my daughter said about my son being taken to Helheim. If Hel chooses to restore life to his dead flesh once more, in time he will surely return, leading other Death Riders. I must stop him if he does. I must therefore go to the northern frontier in the direction of Hel-gate to prepare and wait.”
“Your battles are mine and my people’s, Blackwolf,” Ulfhild replied. “You shall not go north alone.”
Bloodsong shook her head negatively and started to speak.
Ulfhild laughed and quickly said, “Protest all you like, Swordsister. We’re going with you.”
Bloodsong smiled, deeply touched, and nodded. “Again, my thanks, Ulfhild, for that and for all you and your people have done. My sympathies are with you for Harbarth’s passing. I know what it is to lose a mate,” she said, thinking of Eirik, then she found her thoughts turning to Grimnir. Why had he not rejoined them after the battle?
“Harbarth feasts with Odin,” Ulfhild said proudly, tears glistening. “His death was magnificent. He killed the Jotun. He will be remembered as Ulfhild’s Mate, Jotun Killer, Vafthrudnir’s Bane.”
* * *
Valgerth and Thorfinn came to the closed gate, Thora and Yngvar by their sides. “We found them riding atop the back of a bear.” Valgerth glanced around at the hulking beast that had followed them into the courtyard.
“The Berserkers were told to watch for two small children,” Bloodsong said, went closer, embraced her friend, and clasped Thorfinn’s shoulder.
Grimnir emerged from the castle, wiping blood and sweat from his face. He carried something dangling from one hand.
Bloodsong hurried toward him. She embraced him. “You are alive,” she whispered, holding him close.
“Aye,” Grimnir replied, “as, praise Odin, are you. But Kovna’s not.” He dropped the object he’d been carrying onto the ground at Bloodsong’s feet. Kovna’s head stared up at her, glazed eyes filled with horror. “Kovna’s warriors were no match for the Berserkers,” Grimnir said, “nor was he for me.” He kicked the head and watched it roll. “He’s tied you to that cursed tree for the last cursed time!”
Like Ulfhild, some of the Berserkers had begun to resume human form. Others still hunted for any warriors or Hel-worshipers in hiding. Occasional screams indicated that another had been found. Five males still in beast form were working to open the gate, standing on their powerful hind legs, pushing up on the ponderous bar with all their strength, but without success.
“Thokk’s magic was strong,” Huld noted. “It still keeps the gate closed tight. But Freya’s magic is stronger. I will have it
open in moments. Tell them to stand back.”
“No,” Guthrun said, placing a hand on Huld’s shoulder. “If you try to open it with Freya’s magic, you will die. It’s not just a spell of closure that holds the bar. The spell that keeps the gate closed has survived Thokk because unseen spirits still hold the bar in place. They must be ordered to return to Helheim, then the gate will easily open, but they will not obey a Freya-Witch.”
The Freya-Witch concentrated her will and spoke lilting words of power to allow her to see if what Guthrun had said were true. She saw, then turned away from the gate, sickened.
“What did Thokk do to you?” Bloodsong asked Guthrun.
Guthrun did not reply. She closed her eyes and concentrated her will.
“Before you arrived, Freyadis,” Valgerth said, touching Bloodsong’s arm, “Thokk performed a ceremony.”
“Guthrun has Witch-powers now,” Thorfinn quietly added. “She opened our manacles with magic.”
“And she heard Hel call to the Death Rider who took Lokith during the battle,” Bloodsong remembered, chilled.
Guthrun ordered the beasts at the gate to one side, traced Runes in the air, then shouted ragged, guttural words of power, “Try it now,” she told the Berserkers. They reared up on hind legs once more. The bar easily gave way. The gate creaked open.
Bloodsong walked forward. “You wield Hel-magic, Daughter,” she said, trying without success to keep the distaste from her voice.
Guthrun slowly nodded. “And I can sense the Beast in you, hungry to be free.”
The two women stood unmoving for several long moments, then Bloodsong reached out and pulled Guthrun close. “We’ve both been changed by all that has happened,” she said at last, “but we’re both still alive, and together once again.”
Guthrun hugged Bloodsong hard. “I missed you so much!”
* * *
With no trees on Mount Jormungandr out of which to construct a funeral pyre, they piled their dead in the castle courtyard atop a pyre made of firewood and furniture taken from inside the castle. Magnus and most of the men who had followed him had been slain, as had Harbarth and several other of the Berserkers.
Ulfhild brought a torch from the castle and set the pyre aflame.
The survivors stood around the blaze, honoring their dead.
Huld sang prayers to Freya, Ulfhild to Odin and Thor.
Guthrun, standing beside Bloodsong, found her thoughts turning to Thokk, Lokith, and Hel—
Stop thinking about them! she ordered herself. Think about your real mother, instead. She slipped an arm around Bloodsong’s waist.
Bloodsong embraced her.
“I love you, Mother.”
“And I, you.”
Overhead, gray clouds were giving way to clear blue skies.
* * *
When at last the funereal flames died away, they left the Castle of Thokk.
They reached the horses near the escape tunnel’s entrance. Grimnir presented Frosthoof to Guthrun.
She patted the stallion’s neck and stroked his mane, delighted, then surprised Grimnir by hugging the red-bearded warrior and giving him a kiss.
Bloodsong smiled at his momentary embarrassment.
Grimnir noticed and smiled back. “Your mother has a beautiful smile, Guthrun. We must see that she uses it more often, from now on.”
“Aye,” Guthrun agreed, mounting Frosthoof, ‘‘that we must.”
Bloodsong gave them each a frown, but a moment later her expression softened and she smiled again as she mounted Freehoof.
She took a deep breath of clean mountain air and looked up at the Sun that now blazed in a cloudless sky. She saw Guthrun do the same and was comforted by the sight. “Ulfhild? Do you want to lead the way?”
* * *
With Ulfhild and her people scouting ahead, Bloodsong and Guthrun rode side by side down the narrow and twisting mountain trail. Grimnir and Huld rode close behind, followed by the rest of the victors. When they descended far enough from the mountain’s summit, they reached a forest. Tall trees bordered the trail on each side. Wind whispered in the pines.
Back from the trail, concealed within the shadows of the trees, two watchers hid.
“Garm’s Blood, Sol,” whispered a young man. “She’s older, but I recognize that woman riding up front, beside that good looking girl.
“Good looking girl.” whispered his sister, shaking her head. “You think of little else, these days, Mani.”
“She looks about my age, maybe a couple of years older is all. Very nice.”
“That one beside the big man looks familiar, too.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “It’s Bloodsong and Huld, but Huld looked better, before.”
“Well, she was younger.”
“And had long, blond hair. It was pretty. I wonder why she cut it off?”
“I have a bad feeling about this, Mani.”
“Me, too. What are they doing here?”
“We’d best ask Mistress Thokk.”
* * *
“Someone is watching us from the trees,” Guthrun quietly said to Bloodsong, “two people. But I sense no danger. I can do that now. No need to bother Huld. Perhaps they are survivors we missed, from the battle. Should we tell the others and—”
“No danger?”
“None.”
“I doubt they are the only ones we missed. But without Thokk to lead them—”
“Bloodsong,” Huld said. “Two people are watching us from the trees.”
Grimnir drew his sword. “Where?”
“We know,” Bloodsong told them. “Guthrun senses no danger. Do you, Huld?”
“No. But there is something familiar about them. And they are afraid. Grimnir drawing his sword made it worse.”
“I sense their fear now, too, Mother,” Guthrun agreed. “But they do not seem familiar to me.”
“If they are stragglers we missed,” Grimnir said, “we should leave none of Thokk’s followers alive.”
“Too late,” Guthrun said. “I sense they are running away.”
“Yes,” Huld nodded.
“And I heard them go,” Bloodsong added.
“You heard them?” Huld asked.
“My hearing has—improved.”
“We could still hunt them down,” Grimnir suggested. “Bloodsong?”
“They felt like little more than frightened children, to me,” Guthrun noted.
“Children?” Huld frowned. “You’re right, Guthrun. I’d missed that. I don’t like the thought of children misled into worshipping Hel. They’ll grow up, someday, and—”
“We’ll kill them, then,” Guthrun finished. “Right, Mother?” she asked, thinking about herself, “if they prove to be a threat?”
Bloodsong looked at Guthrun. She reached out and gripped her daughter’s shoulder. “They need not become threats.”
“Aye,” Guthrun agreed. And I vow that I won’t! she added in her thoughts, and rode on.
“GARM’S BLOOD, Sol.” Mani cursed and held up his left arm. “Look!” He pointed at a freshly painted symbol resembling a pointed thorn jutting from the middle of a straight line. “That’s Thurisaz, not Wunjo. You’ll attract Thor’s attention!” Mani frowned at his sister. “Concentrate! Wunjo for perfection, Thurisaz for—”
“My concentration is just fine, Brother. I did it on purpose.”
“On purpose? Don’t you want the summoning spell to work?”
“Obviously not.”
“That’s crazy. After all our study and effort?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Sol was seventeen, Mani three years younger. They had eyes the color of a clear sky. White-blond hair hung straight and unbound past their shoulders. Warmed by a small fire that flamed within a circle of stones, both stood naked in a hidden
cave, their bodies tall and slender. Discarded clothing lay nearby, Sol’s neatly folded, Mani’s tossed in a heap.
The Runes they were painting on each other’s pale flesh were blood-red. The paint was made from herbs, berry juice, and soil collected from ancient grave mounds, mixed in the dark of the Moon while chanting spells sacred to the Queen of the Underworld, the Goddess Hel.
Smoke from the crackling fire curled upward, venting through small holes in the vaulted ceiling. Outside, snow covered the treeless summit of Mount Jormungandr. The night sky glowed with the Spears of Odin, the eerie green shafts and shifting ribbons of the Northern Lights. In the distance, wolves howled.
“You can’t just change your mind, Sol.”
“Yes, I can, and I have.” She stuck her flat Rune-stick in its clay paint cup, placed the cup on the floor, and walked toward her clothing.
Mani stepped in front of her. “No.”
“Get out of my way. We’re not going to summon Lord Lokith from Helheim tonight.”
“Yes, we are.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“I do.”
“You don’t have to suffer his looks.”
“He admires your beauty. Is that bad?”
“It’s more than that.”
“Have you had any of your dreams of foresight about it?”
“No.”
“Waking visions?”
“No.”
“Omens? Or another midnight visitation from the wraith of our mother?”
“No! But this needing us to summon him with magic? I think it’s a trick. I think he could come here without our help.”
“But why trick us?”
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