The Goddess Embraced (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 3)

by Deborah Davitt

  You believe that there is hope, Mercury said, his tone disbelieving.

  My calculations hold out diminishing percentiles, but victory is still possible, Prometheus said, quietly.

  Loki shook his head. My hope doesn’t come from Prometheus’ calculations.

  You have been withholding information that I need for a complete dataset for years now. Prometheus’ tone held edges, and everyone at the table stared at Loki—not least, Thor and Tyr.

  You would not believe me even if I told you. Loki’s fox-like grin came and went as he stood, and began to measure out the room with his strides.

  I believe the human phrase is ‘try me,’ young trickster. Prometheus’ voice was stern.

  There was a single flash of images, too fast for Sigrun to comprehend, and she had the sneaking impression that Loki had done to her, what Freya once had, and what she herself did to Reginleif on occasion: locked the information in the mind, where it was available, if needed, but not actively in play. Kanmi, Min, and Trennus looked struck, and Nith raised his head, whuffling frost against the back of her neck. The goddess I spoke with, outside of Valhalla? Mercury said, thoughtfully. She was definitely not Hecate. Again, Sigrun had the impression that more was being communicated, than to which she was privy.

  I remember this conversation, Kanmi said, folding his arms over his chest. Matter of fact, I was the one who brought it up to Prometheus that he’d had a very large blind spot in his calculations, all stemming from his gratitude for being resurrected. Nice to see I’ve been kept in the loop. Mercury, Loki, and Prometheus, tricksters all, snorted at Kanmi’s irreverent tone. The other gods, however, stared at Kanmi . . . and at Prometheus and Loki . . . with considerable concern. But with far less ire than Sigrun had anticipated.

  You and Truthsayer have indeed been perspicacious, Emberstone, Loki agreed, smiling faintly. As our two mathematicians have suspected for some time, something had to have occurred to change the future as pre-memory has shown it to us. As it appeared to Apollo of Delphi, and the Pythia, Trueseer. Sophia Caetia. He turned, and his gaze focused on Sigrun, just for a moment, and she read surprising sympathy there, before he turned away again. All of my own thoughts on the matter suggest that Prometheus’ resurrection must have been engineered by someone outside of the existing system. Otherwise, he would not stand here with us, today. Hecate hinted that someone had forgotten her. Had forgotten to help her regain the power lost, in fighting a mad godling, and restoring Prometheus. After my . . . mishap . . . in the north, wherein the human technomancers and Reginleif deceived me, successfully, hiding their true intentions, I had a great deal of time to sit in the Veil and nurse my wounds. A quick, ironic grin at his own choice of words. I had always paid attention to the inklings and intimations of pre-memory—more so, perhaps, than my brothers and sisters of Valhalla. The Norns’ prophecy that I would start Ragnarok, and that Fenris would betray Tyr never sat well with me, you understand.

  The other gods of Valhalla looked away, and at the great hearth, Fenris growled slightly. Loki went on, carefully, Because I paid attention to those hints, I had already started to prepare for the great battle I could see looming before us. I cursed Sigrun Stormborn. To ensure that she would be ready to fight, as a valkyrie, without reservation. That curse is, incidentally, in abeyance. Loki paused, looking at Sigrun, but she didn’t react. In truth, she didn’t know what to think, or feel about that statement. It seemed trivial; beside the point. I prepared myself for the possibility of betrayal by the humans with whom I was to associate, by seeking out Hiddenstar . . . Frittigil . . . and making her my lover. It was not well-done of me, but I needed a conduit, and a child, that no one could find. And she had so much power already. Loki shook his head. I knew I would feel affection for her. I did not expect to cherish her. And I did not see myself returning to the mortal realm as early as I did. Pre-memory insisted that I would return in the human year 1999 AC. This year. When the rest of Valhalla felt that they needed me present to stop mad Jormangand. I saw him igniting the very Mitsi'adazi supervolcano we have been discussing, incidentally.

  Trennus and Minori sat up straight at those words, their eyes wide. Loki waved their incipient questions aside for the moment. I remember his hide bleeding from the hundreds of wounds of the mad godlings. I see it clearly. And yet, pre-memory lies to me as much as it does to the rest of you. For my son-self is on Mars, taken there by Hecate’s grace. He paused, and went on, And in no pre-memory of mine until it occurred, was Prometheus present. Loki waved a hand. Everything since Prometheus’ return is different. Some things are subtle. Others, more stark.

  Freya’s golden eyes were distant, as if she looked into the future herself. How far do you see?

  I have seen beyond the deaths of all the rest of my brothers and sisters of Valhalla, Loki said, grimacing. I have not wished to mention that before now, for fear of your reactions. He paused. I had seen myself badly wounded by Jormangand. Weak and injured, I saw myself retreat to Judea, where I fought to protect our people, covering them with illusions as they fled ghul and godlings. He shook his head. I heard my brethren’s last cries, from across the whole world. And I saw myself weep, because Jormangand was dead, and Fenris, who never came back to Valhalla, was dead, and all those whom I ever loved, or loved to fight, were dead. And I was alone, but for Fritti and my son.

  The room was silent. And then a voice in those pre-memories spoke to me, Loki said, quietly. And told me not to fear. That there was a plan. And then everything went gray, and I could see no more. He paused. I remember those visions, but I no longer see them. Instead, I see myself fighting over Burgundoi, alongside Thor and Tyr and Freya. I see the Odinhall light up with the power of my fellow gods, and I see a mad one darkening the sky overhead. And I know that Frittigil and Visionweaver are safe in the Veil, though Visionweaver is now called Rig One-Hand. The trickster god gave Tyr an ironic half-bow, and Tyr stiffened with unease as Loki turned to meet Prometheus’ eyes. This information cannot help your calculations. It is knowledge without facts. Hope without rationality.

  Prometheus frowned. Since the first time Mercury mentioned the presence outside of Valhalla, and Emberstone and Truthsayer told me that I had been blind not to notice that something had altered, that brought me back, I have been attempting to account for an outside variable in all of my calculations. His eyes flicked around the room. I can see evidence of its presence in all of my numbers, now that I am looking for it. But I would point out, that someone entirely outside of the system would have no interest in assisting us. And would have no means of doing so, save through the ley-line rifts that open to other universes. So, this entity must be inside our entwined system of universes. And must be extremely powerful. He stared at Loki. You and Mercury have both said she.

  And what does gender mean to any of us? Loki asked, with a shrug. I have had male and female mortal lovers. When I find a spirit fair, what shape its body is, hardly matters. And I have always matched myself to what the mortal finds most fair, in turn.

  And Fritti is the first to have found Loki fair, Sigrun thought, with a flash of insight. She’s the first one who sees him as he is, and doesn’t flinch. Like Juno and Pluto. That thought made her heart ache, just a little. Out loud, she offered, tentatively, It does not seem likely that it would be a denizen of the Aether, does it?

  Prometheus shook his head. No. Hecate always denied this. And even the one who called himself my brother was not subtle in achieving his goals. He did not hesitate to use me to achieve those goals . . . and they might be summed up as ‘preventing the loss of human lives and destroying the power of the gods.’ The titan shook his head again. They are direct. Unnuanced. Thing disapproved of, thing destroyed. And they have been unseen in this world for three thousand years. Why would they care now?

  They appear to need to be summoned, Trennus put in, politely. If they are of . . . law, and order, and fate, they may have to follow rules of which we are not aware.

  And truly, Nith put in, quietly
, they do not seem particularly impressive. They did much damage in the ancient world—the eruption of Santorini stands as an exemplum. But we have seen the deaths of gods cause that much, and worse, in the past several years. The destruction of Troy? Seventy-seven acres of land. A decent wildfire in the western part of Caesaria Aquilonis covers tens of thousands of acres. The dragon regarded Prometheus steadily.

  Prometheus shrugged. The godslayer who came to my aid . . . I was impressed by him. He’d reshaped the human body he’d taken, and had as complete a mastery of fire as any I have ever seen. Yes, Embersoul, before you say the words . . . mastery of one ‘element’ is inflexible. Easier to defeat. The titan looked away. But there is one thing more, that indicates that the godslayers cannot be involved.

  Trennus nodded. The presence Mercury met was in the Veil. Those of the Aether, the Nameless, cannot come here. Only humans and Veil spirits.

  There was little progress, after that, and the meeting soon adjourned. The list of ley-lines to avoid disturbing was dauntingly long, and probably impossible not to trespass against. It’s as if the whole world is covered in tripwires, Sigrun told Trennus and the others, as they took a side-trip to Kanmi’s new realm.

  As threatened, it was indeed a library. He asked for Sigrun’s opinion, and she stared around herself, awed. This is better than Dvalin’s Archives, she told Kanmi. Don’t tell him I said so, though.

  Ah, blackmail material. Excellent.

  There was no outside to this realm, only an interior, as of a huge tower, going up and down infinitely. Sigrun could fly through the hollow center, but there were stairs corkscrewing up the outer walls, and there were wheeled ladders on every tier that hung from the shelves. Minimal flooring, and a continuous source of gentle light that always seemed to be overhead, regardless of where she was in the cavernous realm. This is surprisingly low-tech for you, Sigrun told Emberstone, after some time, watching Nith carefully settle in at a table, disregarding the chairs, to turn the pages of a book, cautiously with his claws. No calculi?

  Just the semblance of one, that serves as the catalogue of everything we’ve brought here. It’s mostly in my head, though, Kanmi admitted. I need a Zaya to help me organize this place properly. At the moment, I’ve gone to all the major cities that we know have fallen, and grabbed every bit of paper that hasn’t been damaged by rain or mold. I pulled Delhi’s great libraries yesterday, actually. But I can only do this when we get a moment away from the front lines. I’d ask you for transport instead of Trennus, but . . . .

  . . . everything is triage right now.

  Yes.

  They all clasped wrists, and Saraid gave everyone quick, light hugs. And then they were all off again. Respite never lasted for long, these days.

  In spite of herself, as she left, Sigrun found herself playing a guessing game on the topic of the mysterious personage who’d disrupted Sophia’s pre-destined vision of fate. I don’t suppose you’d be open to a wager? she asked Nith. Feeling oddly as if she’d said the words before, she offered, Half a solidus, perhaps? And then she remembered that she’d always made those light-hearted bets with Adam, and she had to turn her face away for a moment.

  The rumors that dragons have hoards of gold are untrue. I do not actually possess any coin, Nith reminded her mildly as they flew. Though I am glad to hear your mood lighten, at least a little. He paused. On what would you wager?

  Sigrun shrugged. While Loki stated that gender was meaningless to the gods, that is not entirely true. Belief in their shape and identity congeals them. Loki changes shape freely, largely because people conceive of him as a trickster. Prometheus does not, for all that he is a trickster, too, because humans conceive of him as a titan.

  Of this, I am all too aware. I envy Saraid’s children their freedom of form.

  She winced. I apologize.

  It was not your intention to cause hurt. But you were making a wager. Speak on.

  Sigrun cleared her throat. It seems evident that whoever is involved in all this, conceives of herself as a she. Perhaps one of the ancient gods, the ones not directly worshipped in centuries. Bestla, the mother of the gods of Valhalla doesn’t exist. She’s a human explanation for the gods’ origins. But Gaia was worshipped. Or perhaps Nut, the early Egyptian goddess of the sky. She leaned forward and thumped Nith’s massive shoulder with a fist. Though Loki told you something, didn’t he? You have inside information, and I shouldn’t wager with you at all.

  Nut was slain by Akhenaten, Nith replied, swinging his head over his shoulder to examine her. And no one has heard Gaia speak in seven thousand years. I doubt both solutions to the puzzle.

  Then some greater god, behind the gods, as the Atenists would have it. A demiurge, as it were. A Great Goddess, the one embodied in the little fat statues carved by mammoth hunters in the Ice Age. Sigrun considered that, and discarded it. No. That wouldn’t work, unless she existed, and siphoned off some of the belief that every goddess receives. She poked Nith in the shoulder again with an armored finger. You’re not telling me, are you?

  Loki showed me a number of things, Nith told her, his voice more hesitant than she’d ever heard it. Mostly, I am grateful for what he revealed. It tells me that I am not mad, pre-remembering things that . . . will not come to pass. It relieves me to know that I do not have to expect the fate I have seen. Lying on the ground, my wings riddled with bleeding holes, and burned. Dying, until you come, in your white cloak, weeping . . . .

  Sigrun shuddered. If and when the time comes, I will be with you. She glanced up, and added, with some asperity, You are very good at side-tracking me. That still was not an answer.

  I do not understand everything he showed me. I need time to consider everything I saw. His tone wasn’t angry, but it was confused. Agitated, even.

  And that is an answer that I both understand, and can respect. I will not ask further.

  Iulius 5, 1999 AC

  Vidarr’s orders had been direct. Maccis was to scrounge up what passed for the landsknechten company’s dress uniform, groom Heolstor, Scimar, and Rodor until the lindworms’ scales gleamed, and present them all at the palace of the still-uncrowned Emperor of Rome, Caesarion X. Caranti and Deomiorix, who usually rode Scimar and Rodor, grumbled a little at a summons that didn’t include them. “We’re being stood down?” Caranti asked.

  And Deo chimed in, immediately, “But we just had leave.”

  “They can’t break up the team like this.”

  “Is this why Rig and Solinus have been taking riding lessons?”

  “Not that they seem to need them,” Caranti amended, shaking his head. The eighteen-year-old sighed. “I thought we’d finally have something—”

  “That we could teach them to do—”

  “—and instead it’s like they’ve been riding their whole lives.”

  Maccis was used to the way his younger brothers finished each other’s sentences. What he couldn’t figure out, was how, after at least two years of active combat, after working to help train the lindworms for about four years previous to that . . . they could still sound so damned young. Oh, in the air, they were deadly serious about their work, but on the ground, they joked about everything. A lot of people compared lindworm riders to fighter pilots. Though they did their killing from a good deal closer-range than target locking with a missile ten miles out.

  While we enjoy flying with you, Rodor interjected, perhaps this once we have different tasks. Lindworms lived at much different rates than the rest of ‘humanity.’ While they’d been infants when Caranti and Deo had been young adolescents, all three of the first lindworms to speak were now full adults . . . and they had only hatched nine years ago. All three restlessly searched for mates among the females of their kind. Lindworms were apparently nominally monogamous. More like ‘serially monogamous,’ if the truth were told. The first three to speak were considered fine catches by most females, and their reputation in combat didn’t do them any harm, but the females apparently felt pressured by the urgent need to
stabilize their population by laying more eggs, to more and different males, for genetic diversity. Quite a few of them didn’t want families immediately on becoming adults at the age of four, and didn’t know what they could do in society, besides fight. The same problem as the fenris, writ larger.

  Maccis just shrugged at his brothers. “Could be something you don’t have clearance for yet,” he told them. “It’s probably not a big deal. Take the afternoon and pester some girls.”

  “We did meet a dryad girl who wouldn’t mind courting both of us,” Deo said, grinning.

  “More than I needed to know,” Maccis told them. “You don’t have to do everything together.”

  Their guffaws rang in his ears as they left, jostling and pushing and generally being young males in the prime of their lives. Alone with the lindworms, Maccis grumbled under his breath, but not for the same reasons as his brothers. Vidarr’s landsknechten didn’t have a set uniform. With jotun, fenris, nieten, harpies, centaurs, dryads, and the occasional leonne on staff, there wasn’t a single uniform that could cover all those different body types. The best anyone could do on a daily basis was wear some form of camouflage in larger or smaller sizes, and have the Lindworm sigil somewhere on there, hopefully on an arm or collar-tab. Except the fenris and lindworms. Their uniforms were the collars and insignia tags, and some paint on the lindworms’ tails.