Fallen Mortal

by J. A. Culican

  “And I can see her? Speak with her?”

  “Not without cost,” she said, her words quick.

  “What will it cost me?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “It will cost you nothing, but it will cost me.”

  I folded my hands under my chin to hide their trembling. “And I will owe you something in return?”

  “No. Geirolf and I have sworn an oath to protect you. We want to help you let go so you can live. You help us by living; it’s that simple. Go on living until it’s your time, and then the final reap will be valid. That’s all we are asking for.”

  My judgment was off. I couldn’t tell if she was lying or not, but what choice did I have? It was my only chance to get closure with Sandy.

  “Fine. I’ll do whatever it takes to see my sister.”

  Chapter 17

  I’d bartered with a giant and an elf to get here. I’d told Geirolf as much as I dared to. He knew of the alliance I’d formed with Arne in case things went badly. An alliance with the unicorns would give him an edge if my death needed to be avenged.

  I set charms around the old wooden building south of the entrance of the veil. It stood alone in a field of rocks, a beacon for those who searched for refuge while traveling. The charms would make it invisible to wanderers. This area between Bifrost and Midgard was well traveled by those seeking answers. I had to be sure we were safe while the bond was set.

  “Ach, the stench of human is thick in the air,” Arne hissed. He entered the cabin, tossing a battered bag onto the floor. He eyed Maxwell. “Made it alive, did you?”

  Maxwell shrugged, unable to look away from the feline likeness of the elf.

  “Are you sure you weren’t followed?” I asked, peeking through the tattered curtains. A storm was rolling in from Asgard. The clouds were purple and green, radiating lightning as it moved. It was going to be a strong one.

  “It’s market day, but you know that my clever reaper,” Arne said with a leer. “Your timing is impeccable. But let’s talk about those barriers. I barely got past those charms you set up as traps.”

  I sneered in his direction but said nothing. I was still jazzed at being able to bring a mortal into our realm. It was like fate was helping us. Having a tooth of a Valkyrie had made the transport possible and easy. Maxwell had gone through each phase undetected under the cover of my wings.

  Thunder rolled and Maxwell balked, stepping away from the window. There weren’t many places to hide in the one room cabin. I doubted it was any bigger than what he called a bathroom back home.

  Arne motioned to the center of the room. “It’s a long way back to Alfheim. If you’re going to do this, better get to it.”

  “You’re not staying?” I asked, my eyes wide. “I thought you’d stay until daybreak, to be sure we don’t break the bond.”

  “Watch you all night?” Arne asked, fully annoyed. “Listen, demon. I’m here because you made me a promise, and the only way I can see that promise through is to be where and when you ask me. Once this deed is done…” He rotated his hand in the air. “And the next one, I’m out of here. You can bet on that. That’s the only thing you can count on.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “Fine.” I threw my hands up in the air and stomped up to him. “What’s in the sack?” My chin jerked to the ugly bag he’d brought.

  His cheeks turned pink, giving his feral, yellow eyes a strange glow. “You’ll need a tie to fasten the exit of blood together. My wife saved the tie from our wedding. It is perfectly made for the task since it was fashioned for hand tying. I’d suggest you use your hands for the bond. Other limbs won’t be as easy to bind together. Or say, if you’d pierce your stomach or shoulder...nasty business that. I don’t know how…”

  “Hands will do,” I cut in. “Show me.”

  Arne limped to the bag and fumbled around in it. “I want it back,” he grumbled.

  I rolled my eyes and held out my hand. He placed the soft, golden tie into my hand carefully. “It’s beautiful,” slipped passed my lips.

  “That’s why I want it back. Family heirloom,” Arne sniffed.

  I glanced at Maxwell who merely shrugged.

  “Is that all?” I asked.

  “Cut deep enough for blood to drip, not just ooze. Bind the cuts together. It must stay fastened until the suns rise.”

  My eyes tapered. “What happens if we break contact before then? Like, what if he falls asleep or something?”

  “Then it’s all for naught. The bond will not be complete.”

  “It has to work this once,” Maxwell finally spoke. “Blood oozing is one thing; blood dripping is another.”

  “Such a mortal,” I chanted, shaking my head. “Too late to turn back now.”

  “You two can figure it out. I’m not hanging out for the specifics. I’ve complied with my portion.” Arne bounced on his toes. “Return the tie to this sack and hang it on the solitary post ten kilos north of here. I’ll fetch it by high suns. Gives you plenty of time.”

  “Plenty of time,” I repeated. So, Arne was scared of an Asgardian weather disturbance. Interesting. “Did you bring the blade?”

  Arne thumbed over his shoulder. “It’s there, in the bag. I’d rather not have to touch it again. It’s sharp. Got a nasty cut putting it in there.”

  “You have a knife,” Maxwell said, pointing to the sabre tied under my robes. He swallowed thickly. “Why would you need another?”

  “Elven blades are the cleanest,” I said, scooping up the bag. Arne had packed food as well. How thoughtful he was to the human. I smirked as I tossed the fruit onto the lone table. “Dipped in the waters of their land.” I looked at Maxwell who was the color of spoiled porridge. “It will protect you from infection.”

  “Thoughtful.” Maxwell swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He glanced at Arne. “I’ve never seen an elf before.”

  His fascination with the realms of the nine worlds was intoxicating. When we’d crossed over, he’d reminded me of times when I’d been a child exploring our worlds. Such naivety was lost the older I became.

  “This is Arne of Alfheim,” I introduced. “His family is the oldest among the clans of the elves. Downright royalty.”

  Arne scoffed, ignoring Maxwell’s outstretched hand. “The gods have long destroyed our royal lineage.” He turned and stomped to the door. “Helping a demon can have any rights I have left stripped from me.” His hand paused on the knob. “See that you return my belongings. I’ll not forfeit my life for this. And see that you keep you word.” He looked over his shoulder. “As if the word of a demon means anything.”

  I rolled my eyes, but the sound of the door slamming was my answer. The wind whipped around the cabin, causing it to heave and moan. I tossed the bag onto the table and grabbed the blade within.

  “Demon?” Maxwell asked. He rubbed his arms for heat.

  “Don’t listen to him,” I said. “The only demons in our worlds reside in Hel.” I brandished the blade. “The storm is near. We better get started. The rising suns will show in six hours. I’d rather not be tied to you for any longer.”

  We sat side by side on the floor. I draped the cloth over our laps and stretched out my hand. The rain began, softly at first. I sliced opened my palm, feeling the sting of the blade but nothing more. I was strong at present, so I didn’t feel pain. Timidly, Maxwell held out his hand, his eyes on the blade that was soiled with my blood. In a quick motion, I sliced his palm before he could pull away.

  He cursed. “You could’ve warned me.”

  “I smell your fear. If I’d paused, you may have fled before the deed was done.” I tossed aside the blade and tied our hands together. His blood was warm compared to mine. And red. My blood turned blue as it mixed with his, sliding down our arms. “It’s done.” I lay back onto the floor and he followed suit.

  It was then I saw the ceiling as it was. A painting of the nine worlds, spread across a sky of stars and black. The boundaries were illuminated in a golden paint that glowed in th
e dim light.

  “Wow,” he breathed. As our blood mingled, I felt his emotions. His fear was present, yes, but his attraction to my worlds soothed him. Our blood joining also gave him my essence and aided in his transition. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the nine worlds side by side like this.”

  I stared at the depiction of Folkvangr. “There,” I pointed. “My home. From the veil, you can see all of it if you follow through. It runs as a tapestry.”

  “It’s not on the map. Why?”

  “The veil is hidden. Only those outside of Midgard know of it.”

  “A divine loophole,” he said.

  My head turned to look upon his profile. So serious and grave, still in mourning. “I feel your grief.”

  His eyes closed. I knew then that he had momentarily forgotten why we were here. His heart stuttered with pain as he considered his sister. I saw the anguish on his face, felt the remorse and longing.

  “I wished I’d known,” he whispered. “I could’ve helped her.”

  “No, you couldn’t. You think that you could have, but that’s a lie. Believe me. I know about these things. She was marked for death the first time I met her. Her course had been set long ago—by her own making.”

  A breath huffed from his lips. “Then perhaps if I’d never known of you and Gee, things would be different. I wouldn’t know of Folkvangr and Valhalla. I’d be the same as any other human and I’d deal with this.”

  I looked to the picture again, listening to the thunder and rain as it rolled across the moors. I hissed as my hand burned.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Where our hands joined, a blue lotus flower emerged, floating over the tie and joining. The hologram suspended and pulsated, it’s leaves curving around our hands.

  “Nothing,” I lied. “It’s nothing.” I gripped his hand, but the flower persisted. He was watching me closely and I knew he could feel my unease, so I smiled. “Tell me about your parents.”

  He scoffed. “Three days ago, I would have told you that I had the best parents ever. Three days ago, I didn’t know that I was adopted.”

  It was a common trick of the gods to hide halflings and the sort as adopted humans. I’d guessed as much but was bewildered just the same. With a mark such as his, I assumed that Odin would have the soul birthed into humanity the old-fashioned way, making his nature easier to hide. The stakes had just gone up a notch. This turn smarted a hasty cover up.

  “I guess I should say it anyway. They were great parents. Just liars.”

  “I’m sure they had a good reason not to tell you,” I said. “Perhaps they meant to tell you but ran out of time.”

  “The thing is, I found documents saying I was born to my grandmother,” he bit out. “My grandmother. She would have been in her eighties when I was birthed. How crazy is that?”

  Crazy indeed.

  “It’s impossible, really,” he went on. “And I never would have known had I not gone into the state’s public database. I was looking for Sandy’s biological parents to let them know she’d passed and to let them know what awful people they were for throwing her into the foster system. Anyway, my dad had always handled my registrations into school and stuff. Said my birth certificate was lost or some other lie. Now I know why. So, don’t tell me that they were going to tell me I was adopted. They were never going to tell me.”

  “Was a father mentioned on the birth certificate?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied in a clipped tone.

  It was possible that his grandmother hadn’t lied to him about being from the family tree of Urd. In fact, I now suspected that the nord, Urd, had used his grandmother’s body as a vessel. The fates did that from time to time as sport. They’d take on human skin to live a life on Midgard and dispose of it when it was old and dying. It would explain how an eighty-year-old woman could give birth, too. I had the feeling that if I could find out who his father was, the great mystery of Maxwell would be solved. Still, it was suspicious that the gods had left something like a birth certificate as evidence. But the nords never played fairly and it was a possibility that Urd had hidden it from Odin in fear of repercussions. I could say none of this to Maxwell. The less he knew the better. When I got him into the veil, his true nature would be revealed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said instead. “Losing your sister has been difficult, and now this. I’ll never understand the workings of humans.”

  “Are you really sorry?” he scoffed. “Can you feel sorrow or remorse?”

  “Yes,” I replied. I felt it now, although a good portion was his as it streamed through me. His humanity seeped into me under the cover of the lotus flower. False, perhaps, but it felt real. “I hate injustice just as much as you do.” I turned to him. “I’ll tell you who my parents are. The god Bragi and the goddess Lofn. Try having those two as parents.”

  He turned to me so we were face to face with our fastened hands between us. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I don’t know.” And that was the truth. I could blame it on the bond, but I’d be lying. Ever since I’d laid eyes on Maxwell, I knew he’d be trouble. Even as I looked at him, I could sense the attraction. “Maybe I want you to trust me.”

  He smirked.

  “Or maybe not,” I added, with a sarcastic bend to my mouth. “It’s whatever.”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “It’s whatever.”

  Thunder shook the cabin. Maxwell’s fingers flexed around mine and the lotus flower jumped. Our blood spilled onto the floor, pooling between us. A haze of blue evaporated in the air as my blood flowed through with his. A distant roar sounded from the veil.

  “What was that?” he asked, fear leaping in him.

  “Just an animal from within the veil. Don’t worry. It can’t reach us.” I sighed, hearing the wailing that ensued. “Nothing within the veil can harm us here.”

  “There is no information on the veil,” he said, unease still on his face. “What exactly is it?”

  “A place of unending sorrow. A place where mistakes go, so no one discovers them.”

  “And this is where I’ll be able to see Sandy? I don’t understand.”

  “Part of the torture of the veil is that the beings within can see life outside and can never return. You will be able to see through the veil. It is woven throughout our worlds, but unseen by most. Elves, dwarfs, giants—they have to enter at the rip. It’s the only way in if one isn’t divine, and no mortal may enter—ever.”

  “So how do you enter?”

  “I enter wherever I desire,” I said. “But with you, we’ll pass through the entrance. Our bond will work only if we are touching. The guardians of the veil will recognize you as myself; your scent will be mine. They are blind guides cursed by Odin, given the task to guard the veil from intruders.”

  “I thought I understood Norse mythology, but there is so much yet to learn.”

  “You know what is allowed by the gods. Myths. Legends. There is much to the nine worlds that is unspoken in the mortal realm. Reapers are one, the veil another. We have schools and markets. Times of war and times of peace. Our time continues just as yours. What more would a mortal need to know other than what is known?”

  A silence settled between us as the storm raged. The sounds from the veil decreased as the thunder rolled. I sighed and looked up at the painting. The painted stars twinkled in the flickering candlelight.

  “So, Bragi and Lofn, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. I covered my face with my hand. “Can’t believe I told you that.”

  “Shouldn’t you be able to persuade me to do just about anything?” His tone changed. “Have you? Is that why I’m here?”

  “Bragi gave his persuasion genes to my brother, Orum. My portion of that falls short, I’m afraid. You’re here cause you want to be here. I had nothing to do with that.”

  “Would have been handy as a reaper, I suppose.”

  “Orum would know,” I said, eyes rolling. “I have the gifts of chaos and distracti
on from my mother.”

  “I don’t much about Lofn,” he admitted. “Isn’t she the goddess of unicorns?”

  “Something like that,” I snorted and glanced at him. “Illicit unicorns.”

  “Really?” His voice squeaked and that made me laugh. “I won’t even ask what that entails.”

  “Thanks for that,” I said dryly.

  “Anytime,” he chuckled. “After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do.”

  What have I done for him, exactly? Extracted information from him, kept the truth from him? He didn’t know the half of it. He thought I was doing this as some divine favor, but I was doing nothing but exploiting him. Guilt pierced my conscience. By all I could see, Maxwell was a good person caught up in a game of the gods. He was innocent, until he wouldn’t be. If his nature was divine, he’d come into his own one day and things could change. Suddenly, I grew tired of this talk. He was getting under my skin.

  “The storm is letting up,” I said. “Perhaps, you should sleep.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he replied, his mouth twisting. “Like that is going to happen.”

  “I can help,” I offered. I’d noticed the darkness under his eyes, the lag to his steps. He was a man not well rested.

  “No, thank you…”

  I reached over and touched his temple. “Sleep,” I commanded.

  Maxwell’s body relaxed and his head rolled to the side. Taking a deep breath, I sat up, careful not to disrupt our binding. What was I doing, allowing him to converse with me on such an intimate level? The mood had been tranquil enough that I shared my lineage with him. Why had I done that?

  I looked down at him and even now, I felt the pull of attraction. I wanted to touch my lips to his and rest my cheek upon his chest.

  Blah. What was happening to me?

  ***Maxwell

  Morning was different on the road between the veil and Bifrost. Nine suns had that effect, I would guess. I looked down at my hand that had already healed. Oria explained that her blood had given me the ability to heal. I’d not be sick any longer and neither would I age at the rate of a normal mortal. She’d been aloof since I’d woken—barely speaking and all business. We were at the entrance to the veil for a test run. I couldn’t explore within the veil until I was stronger. Seven risings of the sun would find the bond strengthened enough for me to speak with my sister.