by Linsey Hall
“But I will.”
“What did you bet him, Cade?” I asked.
“Just a growler full of his favorite beer. It’s from Edinburgh.”
“Thank fates it wasn’t your head or firstborn,” I said.
Ratatoskr wrinkled his nose. “What would I do with that?”
“Good point.” I looked between the two of them. “One more game, because we have a mission to accomplish. But if Cade wins, then Ratatoskr will give us a ride around the base of Yggdrasil.”
Ratatoskr scowled. “I am not a ferry service.”
“You are today, Your Rodentness.”
“Fine! One game, but I shall beat you, puny human.”
I thought he would shake his fist, but he just gave Cade a good glare. Cade grinned and picked up the dice. I watched anxiously as Ratatoskr covered his eyes and Cade rolled.
Eighty miles was a long way. If Cade won this, we’d make the journey that much faster.
“Six,” Cade said.
I frowned. He had actually rolled an eight, but he sounded truthful. He winked at me.
“Ah, truth,” the blinded Ratatoskr said.
Cade swept up the dice before Ratatoskr could uncover his eyes and handed them over. The squirrel took them, his big hand closing around the tiny pieces of carved bone.
Cade covered his eyes and Ratatoskr rolled, then lied about his toss.
“Lie!” Cade said.
Ratatoskr harrumphed, then picked up the dice.
“One life down,” Cade said.
“I’ll get you next time,” Ratatoskr said.
And he did, calling Cade’s bluff. They told the truth on the next two turns, but it got interesting after that. My palms dampened as I watched them, worry streaking through me.
Finally, Cade won. On a bluff this time, as well.
Ratatoskr grumbled and picked up the dice, then shoved them into a little leather pouch tied around his waist.
“Why don’t we meet again for another game sometime?” Cade asked. “I will bring you some beer then.”
Ratatoskr looked at him suspiciously, then grinned toothily, his biggest front teeth gleaming in the light. “All right.” He crouched low. “Now hop on. Where are we going?”
I scrambled up onto his furry back. “Blót tjörn.”
“Ah, have a favor to ask, do you?” Ratatoskr said.
“Yes.”
Cade climbed on behind me, and Ratatoskr took off, sprinting toward the base of the World Tree and turning left. We raced by the Norns’ longhouse, and one of them peered out of a window at us.
I waved but she didn’t return the gesture.
Ratatoskr leapt over roots and dodged around giant rocks. The wind tore at my hair and made my eyes water. Just once, I dared a glance up at Yggdrasil, but the sheer size of it made my head spin. I looked down and clutched at Ratatoskr’s fur. He ran as fast as a car—at least sixty miles an hour, I had to guess.
By the time we stopped in front of a sparkling blue pool pressed up against the trunk of the tree, my arms ached from holding on. I tumbled off the squirrel, barely managing to keep my footing.
Cade slid down effortlessly, of course.
Ratatoskr rose up on his hind legs and gave Cade a hard stare. “Be sure you come back with that beer.”
Cade smiled. “You can count on it. And I’ll beat you again at Mia.”
“Beginner’s luck,” Ratatoskr grumbled, then ran off, straight up the tree.
Cade chuckled and turned to me. “What are we doing here?”
“I have to ask the gods for a meeting and make a sacrifice in that pond.” I pointed to the sparkling blue water.
The pond was fairly large, at least a hundred yards wide, but at the base of Yggdrasil, it looked tiny. Pale sand bordered the water, and pebbles gleamed beneath the clear surface. The water rippled and glittered in the sunlight.
I strode up to it, inhaling deeply and enjoying the fresh taste of the air. “I wonder what kind of sacrifice I should make.”
“Odin sacrificed his eye to drink from the well of Mímir to gain the wisdom within. But I don’t think you should go quite in that direction.”
“No, definitely not.” I liked my eyes. That would make it a good sacrifice, of course, but it needed to be something different. I frowned, thinking of what was most valuable to me.
The buggy, of course. I didn’t have that on hand, however.
But I did have my sword.
My chest ached at the thought. I’d had that sword for years.
My mother had given it to me.
I drew in a ragged breath. That made it perfect.
I pulled the sword from the ether, tears pricking my eyes.
Cade squeezed my hand briefly, and I drew strength from it. I bit my lip. “How do I ask the gods for a meeting? Will they even be able to hear me?”
“Hmmm.” Cade studied the pond and its surroundings.
I joined him, inspecting the pond. A few lines in the sand caught my eye, and I walked toward them.
They were the semi-obscured marks of runes. Some Old Norse, as well. And a few drawings. It’d been disturbed, by animals maybe, but it was clear that quite a few people had made requests of the gods. And they’d used all kinds of ways to do it.
I pointed to the marks with the sword. “I think that’s what I need to do.”
But I had to remember how to write in Old Norse. The ability to read it had developed along with my powers. But I’d never tried writing it.
I concentrated on my memory of reading different texts as I sought out an unmarred patch of smooth sand. The tiny grains sparkled in the sun, and the water lapped at it.
But nothing came to me. At least, I wasn’t sure that the words were right. And I needed to be right about this.
Perhaps a drawing would be better.
Carefully, I used my sword to carve a drawing of myself meeting with the gods. I chose Odin and Frigg, because they were the top dogs. It looked shaky, but it wasn’t the absolute worst. They could probably tell what it was.
“Cross your fingers.” I drew the sword back, like I was going to throw it underhand, then hurled it into the pool.
My chest ached as I watched it hurtle end over end, finally splashing into the water and sinking deep. Cade appeared at my shoulder, wrapping his arm around me. I leaned into him, sniffing back any wayward tears, then watched the water.
“I have no idea what’s supposed to happen,” I said.
“I’ve no idea either.”
“Well, I hope they come through.” I gazed around, searching for something. Nothing appeared. “Odin! Frigg!”
Silence.
“Loki! Freya!”
Still nothing.
“Heimdall!”
Nothing.
I kicked the sand, but as I looked up, I caught sight of a shimmering patch of air. It glowed like opals, right over the place where I’d thrown my sword.
A portal.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown it so far,” Cade said.
I laughed, a sound of pure relief, and waded into the water. It was cool and lovely, making me want to swim laps for ages. I struck out for the portal, cutting through the clear water quickly. Cade followed, his strokes strong and sure.
Magic pulsed from the portal as we neared. I sucked in a deep breath and swam straight through it. The ether sucked me in, throwing me across space and dimension. A rainbow of different colors flashed in my eyes, accompanied by a howling wind that dried my clothes and hair.
The ride took longer than any other portal ride I’d ever been on, and felt like traveling the length of the universe.
When I stumbled out into a quiet forest, my head was spinning. Cade appeared next to me a moment later, looking dry but windblown.
I turned in a circle, marveling at the trees around me. They weren’t huge, but the white birches glowed with magic. Their leaves rustled in the breeze, and dappled sunlight shined through, sending lovely patterns across the forest floor. Nearby
, a river burbled along.
“Where are we?” Cade asked.
“I don’t know.”
A fluttering sounded from nearby, then the cry of a bird. I looked up just as a black raven hurtled though the leaves and landed on a nearby branch. He looked at me, his dark eyes glittering, and gave a single loud caw.
“Huginn?” I asked.
Huginn cawed again, a clear affirmative.
Odin’s raven who had helped me on my last visit was remarkably smaller than he had been last time. Another raven joined him, identical save for a single white feather at his breast.
“Muninn?” I asked.
Muninn cawed, another affirmative.
Huginn and Muninn, representing thought and memory respectively.
I looked at Cade. “I think they are our guides? Maybe Odin sent them to lead us to him.”
Huginn and Muninn slowly flew away, but making sure to keep low.
“Aye, I believe you’re right,” Cade said.
We followed Huginn and Muninn through the lovely forest, eventually reaching the edge. Ahead, a city gleamed. It was built entirely of gold and silver, spires reaching toward the clear blue sky.
Awe streaked through me. “Asgard.”
“The Viking gods aren’t subtle, aye?”
“Not the Aesir.” There was another group of gods called the Vanir, but I wasn’t sure what their city looked like. The Aesir sure liked to flaunt their wealth though.
Huginn cawed, a clear statement of “Quit dawdling!”
I hurried to catch up, racing across the field that surrounded the city. Cade kept pace easily, his long strides eating up the ground.
Huginn and Muninn led us to a fabulous gate. There was no door—the Aesir weren’t worried about attacks, clearly—but the gate was an impressive status symbol.
My heart thundered as we passed underneath the massive golden arch. Magic vibrated around it, a statement of power that was hard to miss.
We followed Huginn and Muninn through the city. It was impeccably laid out, featuring fantastical architecture that was like nothing on earth. As the ravens led us along, it was quiet, with only a few people passing on side streets. Here and there, fountains shot glittering water toward the sky.
When the birds led us up to a fabulous palace, it was pretty dang obvious who would live inside.
“Odin.”
“A safe bet,” Cade said.
A huge courtyard sat in front of the castle. Wide steps led up to the massive gate. There was hardly anyone around, however.
“Is it eerily quiet?” I asked.
“Aye.”
Huginn and Muninn alighted on top of a fountain in the middle of the courtyard, cawing and beckoning.
We followed, cutting across the quiet courtyard. Nerves began to replace the wonder that had filled me.
It was just too quiet.
We climbed the wide steps to Odin’s palace. As we neared, magic rolled over me, stealing my breath. I braced myself, determined to provide a strong front.
The doors were huge gold monstrosities. I stopped in front of them, swallowing my fear, and watched them swing open to permit us entrance.
8
The ravens swooped through, leading us into an enormous golden hall. The human Vikings had lived in dark wooden longhouses, but the gods favored an entirely different style.
A woman wearing a green dress appeared through an archway to the side, her long golden hair done up in braids and her eyes shining a similar shade of green to her dress.
She wasn’t a goddess—I was sure I would have felt it—but her magic was powerful nonetheless.
“Odin will see you now,” she said.
“Um, thank you.” That was quick. She’d caught me by surprise, but I was grateful that my sacrifice had clearly worked. At least, it’d gotten me this far.
She inclined her head, then gestured for us to follow. Huginn and Muninn flew behind us, clearly determined to escort us all the way.
The hall that we followed her into was far larger than the first. Silver and gold gleamed from every surface, but it was the massive throne on the other side of the room that caught my eye. It was more like a bench than a single seat, and two people sat upon it.
Their magic rolled across the room toward me. I staggered, catching myself before falling. Cade kept his footing, but he stutter-stepped. The gods couldn’t have noticed, but I knew how he normally moved.
Odin and his wife, Frigg, sat upon the throne. She was the goddess of wisdom and foreknowledge, and he was the Allfather—god of war and death. As well as king of the Aesir branch of the gods. They looked older than I expected, both white-haired and lined. Odin’s eye patch gleamed gold—covering the eye that he’d sacrificed to Mímir.
Nervousness made my skin crawl as we approached, but I straightened my shoulders. They’d chosen me. That had to make me worthy. I had to assume that, at least, if I wanted to get through this.
And I needed what I’d come here for. Not only for myself, but for my sisters. There was no turning back.
The thought gave me courage, and I finished the last steps toward them, determination fueling every one. Cade stopped next to me, and we stared at Odin and Frigg, two of the most powerful figures in the universe.
Dang, but I could feel it. Their magic was nuts.
“Bree Blackwood,” Odin said. “You have requested an audience. A rare thing for a mortal.”
“I need help.”
Odin inclined his head, striking me again as much older than I’d expected. “What is it that you require?”
“The Rebel Gods hunt me and my sisters. To defeat them, I must have all my powers. And I cannot wait for them to arrive one by one.”
A skeptical look crossed his face. “That is a most unusual request.”
“But she is the chosen one,” Frigg said. “She must have good reason.”
“I do. The Rebel Gods have a spell that will find me as soon as the last godly power is bestowed upon me. But I don’t know when that will be. If I can control the timing of that—and get all the powers at once—I can manipulate the final confrontation to be in my favor. And I’ll have the strength to defeat them.”
“So you want to control the timing of these gifts as well?” Odin’s white brows rose. “That is quite bold.”
“I know. But I have to ask. There is so much at stake.”
“You are correct in that,” Frigg said. “The gods gifted you with their powers for a reason. If you die before you can fulfill it, then what was the point of it all?”
“I think defeating the Rebel Gods is the reason,” I said.
Frigg nodded, seeming to agree. Her gaze landed on Cade. “And you travel with another god?”
Cade stepped forward. “I am Belatucadros.”
“Ah, Celtic god of war.” Odin looked at him appreciatively. “An earth-walking god.”
“You must be quite strong to bear that burden,” Frigg said.
Cade just gave a small smile and inclined his head.
“And you accompany our Valkyrie.” Frigg looked at me. “That speaks in your favor.”
“I think my own actions speak in my favor,” I blurted.
Ah, crap.
Maybe that hadn’t been wise.
But Frigg just smiled, finally showing me something other than skepticism. My shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit.
“I can consult the fire,” Frigg said. “Fate will determine if it is possible to give you your magic early. It will also direct how you will become worthy of that gift. I can give you no details about the outcome of your efforts, but I can guide you a bit.”
Odin nodded, clearly his official stamp of approval.
“Thank you,” I said.
Frigg rose, her movements graceful but slow.
Why the heck were they so old? They looked nothing like all the images I’d seen of them. True, those were artists’ interpretations, but this was a bit weird.
She drifted past us toward the middle of the la
rge room, stopping there and waving her hand so her magic flared. It sparkled through my mind, like my head was full of champagne. I shivered.
Weird.
A large golden basin appeared in the middle of the floor in front of her. It was at least ten feet across, and gleamed in the light of the fiery chandeliers above.
She knelt and made a complicated series of hand movements. Again, her magic filled the room, rolling across my skin and through my mind. Soft words drifted across the hall, and I realized she was talking, her lips moving hardly at all.
A massive blue flame burst to life, reaching nearly to the ceiling. The heat seared my face, and I stumbled backward, then glanced back to Odin, who didn’t seem the least perturbed.
Apparently he was used to his wife’s intense brand of magic.
The flame died down, leaving curling white smoke in its place. I studied it, squinting into the depths to try to make out an image.
Was that a figure? A woman, perhaps? And maybe some small spheres? I blinked, and it was gone.
“Any ideas?” I whispered at Cade.
“Shhhh!” Odin’s loud hush made me wince.
Sorry! I didn’t dare say it out loud.
The smoke died as quickly as it had appeared, and Frigg stepped around the basin and approached us.
Her eyes sparkled with something unrecognizable. “I cannot say I am entirely surprised by what I have seen.”
“And what is that, wife?” Odin boomed.
She scowled at him, as if she thought little of the moniker, and said. “Idun.”
“Ah.” Odin clapped his hands. “Yes. This could very well be just what we have waited for.”
“Idun?” I asked. “With the apples?”
“The very same.” Frigg sat on the throne next to Odin. She looked at Cade, clearly attempting to clarify for him. “The goddess Idun tends the apples that keep us young. Without them, we will grow old and die.”
Ah, and that explained their age. Something must have happened to Idun.
“She was kidnapped,” Odin said. “We know not by whom, and all attempts to find her have been fruitless. Normally, I can see all from my great throne, Hliðskjálf. But I’ve seen nothing of her abduction.”
“To prove that you are worthy of all the powers of the gods—to become the Master of Magic—you must do what the gods have failed to do. Rescue Idun.”
