“Over here,” said Yowtgayrr before leaping away.
The spirit-varkr collided with the giant, fangs sinking into the side of his neck. Vefsterkur grabbed for it, but I popped it away, leaving green blood streaming down the giant’s throat without apparent cause. I wrapped my arms around him and snapped my ursine jaws around his neck. At the same time, I let the lion-shaped animus slam into him, striking him across the thighs.
The two of us were of a height, but I outweighed the giant, so when the animus slammed into him, he staggered to the side, and I shoved him hard. He sprawled over an ice block, and the varkr was there, jaws snapping chunks out of the giant’s flesh, slinging pale green blood around like Jackson Pollack.
“Hold him,” said Yowtgayrr, and I fell on the giant’s exposed back, pinning him where he lay.
The giant struggled, elbowing, kicking, wriggling like a snake, but my instincts took over, and I snapped my jaws around the back of his head and ground my fangs into his skull. He howled in pain, and I mocked him by howling from the varkr’s jaws. Yowtgayrr stepped forward and stabbed the giant through the side. I pressed my weight on Vefsterkur’s back and changed my animuses into the form of humongous crocodiles to help hold down the thrashing giant. I brought each to bear, snapping their jaws closed around the giant’s upper arms.
The giant screamed and kicked his legs, flailing for purchase. Yowtgayrr stabbed him again, and Vefsterkur bellowed in pain and tried to arch his back. I sank lower, resting my broad bestial chest against his torso and pressed with my hind legs. I whipped my head back and forth, trying to crack his neck if I could.
Even with an alligator clamped onto each of his biceps, Vefsterkur put up a tremendous fight. He pummeled me with his fists, kicked at my hind legs—everything he could think of to impart harm.
I squeezed my jaws, and my fangs skidded across his temples and into the giant’s ears. He thrashed his arms and legs in a blind panic. With a pop, my teeth punched into his brain, and all the fight left him. I continued to bear down until my jaws suddenly slammed together with a brutal, sickening crunch that left no doubt whether Vefsterkur still lived.
Retching, I performed the triblinkr to regain my own form, and when the prayteenk finished, I puked on the rimed floor. Shaking my head, I got my gear and put it back on. “That was…”
“Yes,” said Yowtgayrr. “But we have no time to waste. We must get the others into the city and into this hall before the day dies.”
“How can we get them here without some giant—”
“It seemed to me that when Vefsterkur made it clear you were with him; the other giants left you alone.” Yowtgayrr gazed at me without blinking.
“Yes. Of course.” I stared at the giant’s corpse, fixing his image in my mind. I chanted the triblinkr to take his form, fighting a wave of sudden, debilitating exhaustion. My head pounded with each staccato beat of my heart.
I grew in herky-jerky spurts as the prayteenk worked toward its finish. “Running out of gas,” I muttered.
“As in the last battle with Hel?”
“Yeah. This prayteenk is easier than the bear—I guess it’s closer to my natural form—but it’s taking more concentration than switching to the form of another Isir.”
“Three changes in a short time frame,” said Yowtgayrr. “That’s a lot to ask of anyone.”
I nodded. “Where do you suppose Luka hid the proo?”
The Alf shrugged. “Somewhere close. He wouldn’t want it to be so far away as to be inconvenient in case he needed to return.”
“Yeah, but Luka can move the preer around somehow. Same as Meuhlnir and Veethar.”
The Alf shrugged once more, looking up at me before glancing at Vefsterkur’s corpse. “An exact likeness, to my eye.”
“Good. Let me tell the others to meet us near the city.” I reshaped my animuses, turning one into the pale blue raven shape I’d used for reconnaissance earlier, and sending the other back to Althyof and Jane.
“Come meet us at the gate,” I said. “I’m in an ice giant costume, so don’t freak out.”
“A giant? What happened with the giant you met?” asked Jane.
I grimaced at the memory of his brains squirting into my mouth. As a bear, my instinct had been to swallow—the high fat content was perfect for pre-hibernation—but my human soul had rebelled. “Long story, but he won’t be bothering us anymore. Follow my raven to the city, I’ll meet you there.”
Yowtgayrr bent and went through Vefsterkur’s clothing, looking for the key to the back entrance, and once he found it, we headed back out into the dark, twisting alleys.
Twelve
Althyof chuckled when I told him about the fight with the giant. “Too bad the Alf was with you. You could have added a line such as ‘bested the troll Fowrpauti in single combat’ to your list of deeds.”
“Yeah,” said Jane. “That’s exactly what you need—a bigger head.”
We sat close together under a shield bubble in one of Vefsterkur’s frozen side rooms, hoping our body heat would warm the air trapped with us. So far, it seemed a daft plan.
“What if I use the new triblinkr to heat the air?”
“I’d rather you tried that for the first time on air that didn’t contain my flesh,” said Althyof in a wry tone.
Krowkr hadn’t said a word when I’d met them at the gates, all dressed up in my Vefsterkur costume. He hadn’t said a word when I’d led them past Vefsterkur’s body. Krowkr had watched in silence as I performed the triblinkr to regain the form my mother gave me. He hadn’t said anything, but the reverence in his eyes… I hoped it would not be a problem. I wished it wouldn’t be a problem, but you know what they say about wishes and fishes.
We’d eaten a cold (and I mean cold) meal in the small side room and should have been brainstorming about where Luka had hidden the preer. My brain didn’t want to work, and though the cold was part of the reason why, it was not the whole reason. I felt cotton-headed, tired. My thoughts slid around in my head slug-like and ponderous.
“Where would he put it?” I asked Althyof.
“You’re asking me? You are the Isir. He’s more similar to you than to me.”
“He’s nothing like Hank!” snapped Jane, taking my hand.
“Well, they are related, after all.” Althyof shrugged and put his arms behind him so he could recline.
“You know how you and Yowtgayrr don’t appreciate a reminder of your relationship to the Svartalfar?” I asked in a mild voice.
“Point taken. Tell me again what the giant said.”
I had to suppress a sigh. “He asked if I would return the preer to normal functioning. He said it was an inconvenience.”
“No, he said more than that.” Althyof mimed pulling a rope.
“No, that’s what he said. It was an inconvenience to the rest of the city.”
“Yes! That’s it.” Althyof beamed at me. “And that’s the clue.”
“What are you going on about, Althyof?” asked Jane in a sleepy tone.
“He said it was an inconvenience for the rest of the city. Not an inconvenience for him.”
“Maybe he didn’t use the damn thing,” I grumbled.
“No, I don’t think that’s it. I think Luka moved the city’s preer from their usual public places to hidden places. Private places.”
“Okay, fine. Say you’re right. How does that help?”
“What private place would make it inconvenient for everyone else, but not for Vefsterkur?”
Jane glanced at me, wide-eyed. “Do you think…”
“What? Do I think what?” I groused. “Stop being all mysterious and say it plain, Althyof.”
“They are here, Hank. The preer are somewhere in Vefsterkur’s household.”
“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.” I rubbed my hand across my forehead and eyes. “We’d better get moving. We can split up, find it faster that way.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Mister,” said Jane.
Althyof gl
anced at her before turning an assessing gaze on me. “That’s right, Hank. You will stay here and rest while Yowtgayrr, Krowkr and I investigate.”
“More people mean a faster search. Jane and I—”
“Will be right here,” said Jane in a firm tone. “You will rest; I will babysit you to make sure you do.”
“I don’t need a—”
“So,” she said, turning to Althyof as if I hadn’t spoken. “Do you need me to do anything while I babysit?”
“No, that seems like a big enough job. Even for a woman of your capabilities.”
She nodded and glared at me. “You. On your back, eyes closed.”
With a sigh, I resigned myself to an uncomfortable nap on a floor made of ice.
Thirteen
I walked through the empty streets of the city, and that felt strangely wrong. The ice walls displayed a million decaying ravens, and the domes topping the buildings bore intricate carvings of another million birds in flight.
My head throbbed as if someone had packed the double-bass drums from a speed-metal concert into the middle of my head. My vision beclouded once again, almost to the point of blindness, and all I wanted to do was sit down and rest. But I couldn’t, and I didn’t understand why.
I needed to keep moving—the irresistible compulsion forced me to keep putting one massive blue foot in front of the other. I had to, but I didn’t understand why.
“Such a nice day for a walk,” said the blue-skinned giantess beside me. “Don’t you think so, Tyeldnir?”
“What? Who are you? Where did you come from?”
The giantess pouted and raked her hands through her cobalt hair. “You’ve forgotten me again? What must I do to make an indelible mark in your memory?”
I relaxed. “Kuhntul.”
“The very one.”
“Why have you brought me here this time?”
“Me? I didn’t bring you to this dreamslice, Tyeldnir. It was you who summoned me.”
I frowned and scratched my blue head. “I did?”
“You did. I see you’ve learned to take a shape other than that silly bird. It’s so much easier to talk with a humanoid body.” She ran her hand down her side enticingly. “Among other things.”
“You never quit.”
“Are you sure you want me to?”
I waved my hand in dismissal. “Is this… Is this Niflhaymr?”
She laughed—a perfect imitation of glass bells tinkling in the wind. That meant something, but I couldn’t guess what. “Where else? Did you know your Viking ancestors called this place Niflhel?”
I shook my head. “Why would they do that?”
“They believe this is where Hel’s dead go. The dead who Owthidn or Freya don’t claim.”
“You’ve heard of Odin?”
She laughed again. “Of course I have. Hasn’t everyone?”
“The Isir don’t seem to recognize the name.”
“I am Tisir,” she said with a shrug.
“I wish I knew what that meant.”
She glanced at me, laughter dancing in her eyes. “You haven’t guessed? You haven’t put two and two together?” The sound of glass bells rang in the air as she laughed again. “Though, I prefer one and one.”
“Do you remember when I was…after my injuries in the cave…”
She shrugged and put an enormous, yet somehow dainty hand on my shoulder. “When you hung in Iktrasitl? Yes, I remember.”
“Was it… There was another in the tree.”
“Yes. Ratatoskr. He’s cute.”
“Don’t tell him that. He gets quite offended.”
Her eyes seemed to whirl with amusement. “Is it so?” She flipped her long white hair over her white-cloaked shoulder.
I nodded and blew out a breath. “But I meant someone else. Up there in the branches with me.”
“Ah.” She smiled, and it was a knowing, secretive smile. Her pale skin seemed…pristine, new.
“Who was that? Was that Odin?”
She laughed and did a little dance. “This is so much fun.” She patted my cheek. “What name did he give you?”
“Owsakrimmr.”
“Ha!” she said, smiling still. “And does this name mean nothing to you?” She stopped me with a hand on my arm and pulled me around to face her. The pale light of Niflhaymr’s distant sun shone from her white breastplate.
“No,” I said.
“Or perhaps Isakrim?”
“No, never heard of him, either.”
“Oh.”
“So…was it Odin?”
“Well,” she said, drawing her finger down the side of my face and across my lower lip. “If you kiss me, I will tell you.”
“That’s not going to happen, Kuhntul.”
“Jane wouldn’t mind.” Her ice-blue eyes danced.
“She would, but more to the point, I won’t betray her trust.”
She straightened and sighed. “More’s the pity, Hrafnakuth.” She flipped her long blonde hair to the other side of her back.
“Oh, no, not another one.”
She smiled and twirled a finger in my hair. “Kiss me, and I’ll tell you what it means.”
“No kisses.” I took her hand and pushed it away gently.
“You’re no fun.” She sighed but smiled through it. “Anyway, it means ‘Raven God.’ You know because you always—”
“Appear as a raven in these dreams. Yeah, I know, but I’m no god.” I looked at her askance. “Won’t you tell me if it was Odin that gave me the Gamla Toonkumowl, the runes?”
“If you say ‘pretty please.’”
“Pretty please.”
“Okay.” In a flash, she went on tiptoe and planted a kiss on my lips. “And there’s my kiss, so…yes, you could say that Owsakrimmr was Odin.”
I couldn’t stop the sigh from escaping my lips. She would never quit with the flirting. “Why don’t the Isir—”
“The Isir don’t understand half as much as they assume they do,” she said with a trace of irritation. “I told you that before, remember?”
“Yeah, I do. If only you could tell me which half.”
She tilted her head back on her slim neck and laughed, and the sound of glass bells tickled my ears. “Oh, Tyeldnir, you can be so funny.”
“Well, thanks.” I turned and walked toward the end of the street, and she linked her arm through mine.
“Such a nice day for a walk,” she said.
“Yes.” But still, I felt there was something I should be doing. Something important.
“Why did you summon me to this place, Tyeldnir? As much as I don’t mind, I don’t want Mother Skult to register my absence.”
“I wasn’t even aware I summoned you, Kuhntul. I don’t know how I did it, so your guess is as good as mine as to why.” My gaze met hers askance. “Who is Mother Skult? I mean, she’s one of the Nornir, but who is she in the general scheme of things?”
Kuhntul shrugged. “She is the one who watches what should occur.”
“And the other Nornir?”
“Urthr watches over what has happened, and Verthanti watches what is happening.”
“Past, Present, and Future?”
Again, she shrugged. “Not quite, but something close to that.”
“And you, Kuhntul? Where do you fit in that?”
“I am Tisir.”
“Yeah, but I don’t understand what that means, remember?”
She favored me with a small smile. “Yes, you do.”
“I wish I did,” I said again.
She stopped and again drew me around to face her, but this time her face was serious, intense. “You keep saying that, but you must understand by now.”
I sighed. “Kuhntul, I’m sorry if this upsets you.”
She shook her head. “It is no matter.”
“But, what does it mean to be Tisir? Oh, I know your fate is entwined with someone else’s—a filkya of sorts.”
“There is a bit of truth in that but consider the meani
ngs of that word.”
“Well, filkya means ‘to accompany.’”
“Correct.”
“Okay. How does that help me?”
“Tisir does not mean that, and with most things in this universe of ours, the name derives from our function. Tisir is simply the plural of the old word ‘tis,’ variously used to mean ‘lady,’ ‘matron,’ and sometimes ‘wife.’”
“Jane is my wife,” I said too quickly and with too sharp of a tone.
Kuhntul dropped her eyes. “Yes. And that is not the sense of the word from which the Tisir name comes. In our naming, the meaning is matron. People often associate us with uhrluhk, but that is a misconception.”
“But you serve the Nornir.”
She shrugged. “It is convenient for now, and it coincides with what my estimation of what my duties are. In truth, I serve another.”
“Roonateer?”
She smiled, and her eyes regained a smattering of their customary mischievous twinkle. “Good guess.”
“And what do the Nornir think of your split loyalties?”
“If they knew, they’d be cross.”
I nodded, gazing into her ice-blue eyes. “So, it’s a risk?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps. It isn’t clear who would prevail if it came to open battle.”
“And this Roonateer’s power outweighs that of the Three?”
A half-smile cracked her face. “I meant between myself and the Nornir. But I’d say Roonateer’s working on it. In the end, he will be.”
“You make little sense, sometimes.”
“Is it so?” she asked and tipped me a wink. “Do you have that chisel I gave you?”
“It seems like I always do, as long as I focus my mind on it.”
“May I borrow it a moment?”
I focused on the chisel, and its warm weight filled my hand. “Even works in a dream. Nice.” I handed it to her. “What are you going to do? Carve a bit of graffiti?”
She treated me to a sly look. “You could say that.” Without warning, she swept my legs out from under me and straddled across my chest. “This may sting a little.”
“What are you—” I struggled to push her off, to sit up, but she sank her weight onto my chest, pinning my upper arms with her knees.
“Trust me, Tyeldnir,” she crooned. “I’m not out to hurt you.”
Blood of the Isir Omnibus Page 108
