by J. L. Murray
Perun looked at the hulking wolf-men. Skoll looked as though he were ready to pounce, his muscles coiled and his eyes watching Perun. Hati licked his teeth. The quiet one just stood, watching him.
“Remind me,” said Perun, his eyes on the flask. “Skoll, your brother's name.”
“You do not know me?” snarled Hati.
“Not you,” said Perun. “Your third.” His eyes met the beast's and Perun swore his liquid black eyes filled with amusement. But he blinked and it was gone. Skoll looked back at him.
“Not our brother,” growled Skoll. His lip curled to reveal teeth as long as Perun's fingers. “But family. He is not your concern.”
“I would like to know who I am trusting,” said Perun. He swallowed. He was a god, he should not feel nervous. He knew he could turn the brothers to ash with his lightning. But it was the other that made him increasingly uneasy. He could never remember much about the creature when he wasn't looking at him. And he felt he should know his name, but when he searched his mind for it, he couldn't remember. Something very strange about him.
Hati snarled and Skoll scratched his chest, flexing his knife-like claws. “We are the sons of Fenrir,” said Skoll, his black nostrils flaring. “We do not earn trust.”
“Have it your way,” said Perun. It would be a pleasure to kill these abominations. But for now, he needed them. He could not leave just yet. Even now he could feel another approaching the mountains. They never stopped trying to get in. He could send the wolves after him but he needed them on a different path.
“I have seen something,” said Perun. “Just for a moment. Down there.” He pointed down the mountainside, towards the canopy of an old and wild forest. It was unusual to see aged wilderness, but it was easy to see why it had been protected. It was surrounded by high mountains, like the one they stood upon now.
“What is it?” said Skoll, squinting his eyes.
“You cannot see it, but there is a village down there. I felt him there, just for a moment. Then he was gone. I want you to find him. He may be at the village, protected by something. Or someone. Or he may have gone off. The only other things in that forest are Reivers, and I very much doubt he would deign to hide amongst them. Too much pride.”
“How do you know this?” said Hati. “He may not be the same.”
“We are gods,” said Perun. “We are unchanging.” The quiet one gazed at him and Perun looked away. “Find him. Kill him. Bring what is left back to me.” He frowned. “I have also sensed someone else that could cause trouble, but I believe her to be mostly harmless.”
“Who?” said Skoll.
“The Crone,” said Perun. “Without her sisters, she is useless. She can do nothing but flap at you with that raven of hers.”
“A Norn?” said Skoll, looking at Hati. “We cannot kill a Norn.”
“Of course you can't kill her,” said Perun with a sigh. “Nothing kills the Sudice. I said she was harmless. Ignore her. Tie her up with her own entrails. She is not my concern. You know who it is I seek.”
“Our payment,” growled Hati.
“Yes, fine,” said Perun. He rubbed his thumb against his index finger and felt the power spark. Only a god could use the essence of another god, and even then, you had to be very powerful. Perun only meted out very small amounts to these wolves. Any more, and they would be too powerful to overcome later. Placing two fingers on the flask, he pulled the contents gently through the polished bone. Pulling his fingers away, he felt the residue on his hand. Skoll stepped forward and Perun placed his hand on the beast's chest and let his power carry just enough essence into the monster. Skoll lay in the snow where he had been thrown by the force and blinked into the snow that had begun to fall. Perun repeated the process, and Hati was on the ground next to his brother.
Perun motioned for the third to come forward. The beast stepped toward him, but to Perun's surprise, he shook his head. “Allow me,” he said, in his smooth voice, so unlike the rough voices of his brethren. He took the flask from Perun's hand and held it in two cupped paws. Perun felt the earth shudder under his feet. The snow fell from the trees, quivered its way in chunks down the side of the mountain. The wolf-man in front of him was no longer a wolf, but a tall, slender man, naked, with plaited silver hair that fell over his shoulders. His violet eyes glowed as he absorbed the entire contents of the bone flask. Perun could see his veins throbbing and bursting with light all through his body, pulsating up his neck and through his arms with a shining lump pounding in his chest.
The man closed his eyes as the light faded, but Perun could see the symbols lit up on the flask like fire, a flask that Perun knew was now empty, but moments ago had contained the souls of three gods. The man gradually returned to normal and then, as though it had never been, became once again a hideous wolf-creature just as his cohorts rose from the snow, not seeming to be aware of what had just taken place.
“We go now,” said Skoll and headed toward the place Perun had pointed out. Hati followed. The third stepped toward Perun and took the fur pouch from him. His eyes glowed violet again for a just a moment as he looked at the lightning god. He dropped the horn carved from bone into the pouch.
“You know me now, don't you, old man?” he said quietly, baring his teeth in what resembled a smile. Then he walked away, following the other two.
Perun did know him. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before.
“Loki,” he said.
Chapter Nine
Eleni awoke at dusk. Before she even opened her eyes she knew someone was watching her. She looked to the corner of the tent to see a girl hunkered down in the shadows, something in her hand. The girl started when Eleni sat up. Fear was radiating from her.
“Why are you afraid?” said Eleni.
The girl didn't answer. She started to stand up, seeming to want to do something, but crouched back down again, as if unsure.
“I won't hurt you,” said Eleni. “Come.”
After a few stops and starts, the girl finally managed to get up the nerve to walk over to Eleni. She was not as young as Eleni had first thought. She was nearly a woman, though so thin that she looked scrawny. She moved with her head down, as if she were afraid to meet Eleni's eyes. The object in her hand appeared to be a carved wooden comb. She had a bundle under her other arm.
“Is that for me?” said Eleni.
The girl stared at Eleni for a moment, before seeming to remember what she came for. She nervously handed Eleni the bundle under her arm, visibly jumping when Eleni reached out to take it. It was softer than anything Eleni had ever touched. Eleni spread the fabric out and saw it was a dress, made of strips of fabric smooth as water that shifted under her hand. She ran her finger over the embroidery. Dozens of suns sewn into the skirt of the dress in reds and oranges. The colors were so bright they almost hurt Eleni's eyes, but she couldn't look away from it. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given her.
“This is for me?” Eleni said. The girl nodded quickly, staring with wide, dark eyes that seemed to fill up her whole face. “I thank you.”
“I'm to comb your hair,” the girl said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
“Why?” said Eleni, still holding the dress against her. It felt cool against her hot skin.
“Grandmother told me to.”
“Grandmother?” said Eleni. “You mean Magda?”
“Yes,” said the girl.
“Why do you call her grandmother?” said Eleni. “Are you blood?”
“No,” said the girl, losing some of her nervousness. “It is a way we honor her.”
“Give me the comb,” said Eleni. “I will do it.”
The girl tentatively handed Eleni the comb. Eleni began dragging it through her tangles, feeling the roots rip out. Eleni tried to pull the comb out but it had become tangled in the knots. Gritting her teeth she began to yank at it.
“Stop it,” the girl said, seeming to have lost her fear. “You'll rip the hair from your head.” She sat down ne
xt to Eleni and swatted her hand away from the comb. Gently, she unraveled Eleni's hair that had wrapped around the comb. Taking chunks of Eleni's hair in one hand, she carefully picked at the knots with the comb with the other.
“My name is Iren,” she said.
“I am Eleni.”
“I know.”
The girl was silent for a long time, the only sound the pulling of the comb on Eleni's hair. Eleni relaxed into the silence. The last person that had tended to her hair was her mother, and that was so long ago, it seemed. A lifetime ago. She had tried to use her fingers when she bathed, but it wasn't the same.
“You have so much hair,” said Iren at last, breaking the silence. Eleni said nothing. “It is so red,” the girl said, sounding as though she was marveling at it.
“One cannot help the color of their hair,” said Eleni. When she was growing up, her hair had been just another bad omen, to everyone but her mother. Eleni realized that she had been far less lonely in her box than in the village. Even if she had been allowed in the village, she thought she probably would have preferred her box.
“I'm sorry,” said Iren weakly. “I didn't mean anything by it. It's just...I think it's beautiful.”
“Beautiful?” said Eleni, frowning. “No one has ever said that before.”
“Everyone's saying it here,” the girl said. “All the women.” She laughed. “They think you'll take away their husbands.”
Eleni snorted. “I want nothing to do with their husbands,” she said. “I need no man.”
“That must be exciting,” said Iren, working on a particularly big knot.
“What?” said Eleni.
“Not needing a man,” said the girl. “My people say I need to get married soon. A woman cannot survive without a man in this forest.”
“The men do not seem to be good providers,” said Eleni. “When was the last time you ate your fill?” Iren didn't answer. “Better to learn yourself than depend on someone else,” said Eleni.
“I don't have the power that you do,” said Iren, almost sadly. “My mother says I should marry Balyn. That I should offer myself to him. He is the one whose falx you took this morning.”
“The weasel?” said Eleni. “Do not marry him. You will starve.”
“I haven't much choice,” said Iren.
“Everyone has a choice,” said Eleni. She thought for a moment. “I will show you. I make no promises, but if I can, I will teach you about the forest. Have you a weapon?”
The girl stopped combing and Eleni looked around at her. The girl was staring at Eleni with something like shock. “Women aren't supposed to wield weapons,” she said slowly.
“I didn't ask that,” said Eleni. “I asked if you had one.”
Iren bit her lip. Finally, she nodded slowly. “It was my father's. A bow.”
“Can you shoot it?”
“You won't tell Magda?”
“Why would I tell Magda?” said Eleni.
Iren looked to the entrance of the tent. Voices carried in from the camp, but they were muted. “I can,” Iren whispered. “I've been practicing. Since I was a girl.”
“Good,” said Eleni. “I will tell you when.” She turned back around so Iren could finish her hair. She finished in silence, the sound of the comb against the tangles like a hollow pop in the crisp evening air. When she was finished she lurched forward and reached her arms around Eleni in an embrace. Eleni wasn't sure what to do, but a second later, the girl was at the tent opening, beaming back at Eleni as she left.
Eleni found Magda at the center of camp. She had taken off her boots and was warming her feet by the small fire. Black ravens surrounded her. She smiled when she saw Eleni.
“I find that it becomes more and more difficult to stay warm,” Magda said, as Eleni lowered herself to sit on the log next to the old woman, disturbing a raven that flapped its wings in irritation as it hopped out of the way.
“Fin says your kind cannot die,” said Eleni. “Why?”
“Right to the point,” Magda said. “It would not hurt you to learn some niceties.”
“Fin says that, too,” said Eleni.
“He's right,” she said, looking into the fire. “You must get along with people to lead them.”
“Why would I lead anyone?” said Eleni.
“It is your path,” said Magda. “You are Zaric. You must learn these things or you will never restore your greatness.”
“You say I am Zaric,” said Eleni, “but I have seen no proof.”
“You knew me when you saw me, did you not?” said Magda, turning to look at her. The hard coldness of her good eye reminded Eleni of the iron gates back at the village.
“Yes,” Eleni admitted. “I knew you.”
“Even though we had never met?” said Magda.
“Yes,” said Eleni. “But that proves nothing.”
“Has it ever happened to you before?” said Magda. “This knowing?”
“Yes,” said Eleni. “With Fin. Not at first, but I knew him. In my head he was another name, though.”
“Alaunus,” said the crone, nodding knowingly. “Your senses are heightened, too, are they not? You know what is there, in the dark? Even when no one else does?” Eleni frowned, but said nothing. “Animals, monsters, even gods. You know they are there before anyone else does. That is a god's power.”
“I didn't know Fin was there,” said Eleni. “He surprised me.”
“Well, Alaunus has a way with moving quietly. He is of a family of order gods. Things become balanced when he is around. Sometimes I wonder if his feet even touch the ground when he walks. He leaves no step, no clue that he has been in a place. It is a curious power, and the Islands are a curious place.”
“If many have been looking for me, though, why could they not sense me? You said a god's power was in the sensing. I do not cause balance.”
Magda laughed. “I should say not.”
“Then why?”
“Ah,” said Magda, raising a crooked finger and placing it gently over the lump in the front of her chest. The necklace thrummed against Eleni's breastbone. “That is your explanation,” she said. “Anja has saved your life many times over with that bauble.”
“My mother?” said Eleni. “What is it?” Her hand went to the hard, round circle at her neck.
Magda was quiet for a moment. “I don't know,” she said finally. “But I can feel the power coming from it. I don't recognize it. On its face it appears to be of Perun, but the power is different.”
“How do you know?”
“I've been alive for a very long time,” said Magda. “And I know all the gods on the earth. They used to fear me. But the necklace, Perun hasn't the power to make such magic. Perhaps it is not of the world.”
“Not of the world?” said Eleni. “I don't understand.”
“Nor do I,” said Magda. “But there are many things I don't understand. The stars, the Underworld, lately I have not even understood the world itself.”
Eleni sat in silence for a time. She straightened her skirt and watched the colors change as the reflection of the fire flickered against them. “Do you know where she is?” she said. “Where is my mother?”
Magda frowned into the fire. “You should not call her that. Gods do not have mothers.”
“Maybe I'm not a god,” said Eleni.
Magda looked at her, her sharp eye clashing with her ancient face. “You are,” she said. “It is unusual, though.”
“What?”
Magda shook her head. “You don't look like him. Like yourself.”
Eleni frowned in confusion. “How can I not look like myself? You are not talking sense. Nothing here makes sense to me.”
“Your former self, child. Zaric. He was dark and broad. And you were born a woman. Small and pale and...” her eyes wandered up to Eleni's hair. “Red,” she said. “Just like Anja. It does not work that way. We are carriers to the gods. We do not consider ourselves mothers. The gods have no mothers. The gods are the gods.”
Magda smiled sadly. “No,” she said. “I don't know where Anja is.”
“But you will help me find her,” said Eleni. It wasn't a question.
Magda's nostrils flared. “I will never stop looking for her,” said Magda.
There was a woman's scream and Eleni heard some men shouting. Eleni whirled around to see a sleek black shape burst through the men that had come running with their falxes drawn. The wolf stopped at Eleni's side and sat calmly at her feet. Eleni reached down and stroked her fur, fully aware of the uncomprehending glares she was receiving. There was a collective muttering. Women had come out of their tents, smoothing their dresses and looking around for the source of the commotion.
“That wolf is going to cause you some trouble here,” said Magda. But she reached tentatively down and touched the wolf's thick fur.
Elek approached them from the crowd, looking angry. Before he could even open his mouth, Magda was standing and turned to face him.
“The wolf is Eleni's companion, Elek,” she said, her voice clear enough to be heard over the whisperings. “It shall not be harmed.”
The man with the weasel face that the girl Iren had called Balyn joined Elek, looking at the wolf like he was dying of thirst and the wolf was a spring.
“That is quite an animal,” Balyn said, licking his lips. “A black wolf.”
Eleni didn't rise. She eyed the mangy hide slung around Balyn's thin shoulders. It must have been one of the puny wolves that traveled in a pack and came down from the mountains sometimes.
“You will stay away from her,” said Eleni. “She will rip you apart.”
Balyn snorted. “I'm a Reiver. No ordinary wolf could take me down.”
“You think she is ordinary?” said Eleni. “Have you ever seen a wolf that came up to a man's ribcage?”
“Obviously this is no ordinary wolf. The gods will punish you if it is harmed,” said Magda.
