Giants of the Frost Read online

  “I have returned to make it safe, and I need your help. I can trust you, Aud. You’ve proven that to me.”

  Aud thought about Loki but said nothing. “You can trust me,” she said, then, before good sense stopped her, “but it pains me that you love another.”

  Vidar put aside his bowl and crouched in front of her. “Aud, Aud, you are a dear friend, you are a beautiful and accomplished woman . . .”

  Tears brimmed. “Don’t, Vidar, I can’t bear your tenderness.”

  “I’ll see that you’ll be safe. You can stay here at Gammaldal, or you can go to Loki, or I can arrange for you to stay with my mother.”

  “I have to stay in service to the Aesir.”

  “I have cousins in the north who would treat you decently.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I will be fine,” she said, brushing him off and moving away. “I must pay the price for the deal I made with fate. I have been lucky so far and perhaps I will be lucky again. You said you need my help.” She pulled out some mending and settled in a far corner of the room so she wouldn’t have to meet his eye.

  He paced the floor. “Your family are different from mine, Aud. We have always concerned ourselves with battle, your family knows magic, secrets, mysteries. I need to poison Sjáfjord so that Odin cannot find me on Midgard, but I have no idea where to start.”

  Aud considered for a few moments. To make magic again would be wonderful, but did she still possess the skills? “It has been a long time since I made any kind of magic,” she said softly.

  “Could you do it?”

  “I’m forbidden from using magic against the Aesir but the seeing-water has been blessed by the giants. It would have little defense against a very simple curse poison.”

  “And you could make that?”

  “I could. It would take several days.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Several days? Why?”

  “I need to steep the wolfsbane for three nights; otherwise, it won’t have the power to infuse the whole fjord. It’s very deep.”

  He tapped his fingers against a carved pillar. “Three days.”

  “If I go to collect the wolfsbane tonight.”

  “Would you? I’ll come to help.”

  “I can do it alone.”

  “Good, good, because I have other things to prepare.” He paced again, and she stole a longing glance at his powerful back and shoulders. Had he had the Midgard woman then? Had his long vow of celibacy come to an end? She felt something move inside her and didn’t know if it were desire or anger. Still, she was bound to help him now; Loki was an unreliable repository for any secret.

  “Three days, then. It still gives me time. Three days isn’t so long to wait.”

  “And then you’ll be gone for good?”

  “For a long time.” He glanced away, wistful. “Mortals don’t live forever, Aud.”

  For the first time, Aud felt a twinge of sorrow for Vidar and his Midgard lover. “Of course.” Then she ventured to say, “I’ll still be here when you return.”

  He shook his head, irritated. “I can’t think for a moment about my return,” he said. “As to who will be here and who won’t, it matters little to me. I would rather that you were somewhere else and happy.”

  Chastened, she put aside her mending and pulled on her cloak. “I’ll go for the wolfsbane now,” she said.

  He didn’t reply and she slipped out into the cold evening alone.

  Vidar, long used to the suppleness of forever, now felt the pressure of time’s passing. There was so much to do. He intended to sit up all night preparing to destroy Odin’s seeing-water, but fell asleep by the fire long after midnight’s shadows had lain themselves across the cold grass outside. He slept too long and had to wait until the following dawn to make his trip to Valaskjálf.

  All was quiet within the great hall when Vidar arrived, the evening’s revelry having given way to the stupor of drunkards. The weather was mild, the sky still starlit, and the sea unfolded and withdrew in its ponderous rhythm far below. Pausing outside his father’s home, Vidar was overcome by a tide of melancholy so heavy and deep that it stole his breath. To be with Victoria, to enclose that soft body in his arms, to live a life next to her and listen every day to her tender voice and the warm rhythm of her breathing . . . It seemed that he couldn’t move, seized by the ache of longing, but he had to move, he had to ensure the monster inside the hulking black building wouldn’t discover them.

  He unpacked Arvak’s saddlebags and drew out a chicken carcass.

  “Arvak, go wait under Odin’s window,” he said, giving the horse a pat on the flanks.

  As Arvak walked off, Vidar set out for the dog kennel, a rickety wooden outbuilding in a dirt pit at the northwest edge of the compound. Odin’s fourteen dogs were empty-eyed beasts, intent only on the pursuit of flesh. Odin kept them hungry to make them more vicious killers. Any one of them would happily snap Vidar’s hand off at the wrist if he weren’t careful.

  Vidar approached the kennel and peered through the chained gap between the gates at a mass of tangled bodies, flanks rising and falling in sleep, limbs twitching. Only Odin could command them, so if Vidar introduced chaos into the pit, Odin would be compelled to leave his chamber. He made a low whistling sound under his breath. An instant later, two dogs bounded toward him, snapping and snarling. Vidar took a step back, even though a heavy twisting chain held the gates firm. He pulled out his hunting knife and dangled the chicken between the gates. One of the dogs leaped up to snap at it, setting the chains rattling loudly. Vidar plunged the knife into its throat. Blood spurted.

  Instantly, the other twelve dogs were awake, scenting the blood and desperate to find its source. Vidar stood back and watched for a few seconds as they descended on the injured dog and began to tear it to pieces. A din of howling and yelping and barking rose up into the crisp night air, and Vidar sprinted away from the pit and around to Odin’s window.

  He listened, catching his breath. Movement inside, Odin’s low voice grumbling, then the sounds of doors opening and closing. Odin’s horn, close by, then disappearing into the distance.

  Sagging against the wall, Vidar prepared himself for the next stage of his plan. As long as the dogs still barked he was safe. He eyed the shutter in the window, high up on the wall.

  “Arvak, you must hold very still,” Vidar said, grabbing his tools and climbing onto the horse’s back. “Closer to the wall now, that’s it. Now, forgive me . . .” Gently, he rose to a standing position, his feet braced against the saddle. Arvak whickered softly. “I know it’s uncomfortable, old friend. I’ll try to be quick.”

  Using his chisel, he removed the nails that held the shutter in place. The opening created was too small for him to crawl through, so he took his saw and widened the window. In his baggage he had a new shutter, purpose-designed to fit the new space, which he would fix before he left so that Odin would never know he had been there.

  Arvak shifted in discomfort, and he had to place his hands on the wall to steady himself. “Just a few moments longer, Arvak,” he muttered, and the swell of the sea and the cold breeze swallowed his voice. The dogs barked on. He removed the final piece of wood and placed his hands firmly into the opening. He eased himself forward, half-in and half-out of the window as he checked beneath him. A trunk overflowing with furs. He could have asked for a bigger place to land, but not a softer one. He fell forward, landing awkwardly on his shoulder, then stood and took a few moments to scan the room in the dying firelight. Every corner was crammed with riches: furs, gleaming bronze and gold, barrels of wine, glittering bejewelled weapons, oak trunks full of trinkets. Which one was the seeing-water in? His mother had described a crystal bottle. He supposed the best way to find it was just to open trunks and start looking.

  A sound from the bed made his heart stop. He snapped his head around to see a woman lying there, almost buried beneath the covers, in a deep drunken sleep. Vidar had never seen her before and assumed she must be one of his father’s se
rvants. He didn’t know how long he could rely upon her to sleep, but he had to be very quiet.

  He began to search. Long minutes passed without any luck. He dropped a bag of dried flowers on the floor by accident and bent to pick them up. At the same time he saw a small flat trunk underneath Odin’s bed, and knew instantly that this must be where his father kept his most important and treasured possessions. How to draw out the trunk without waking the woman in the bed?

  Carefully and quietly.

  He lay on his stomach on the floor and closed his fingers over one of the silver handles and pulled gently. The bed was low; the trunk bumped softly against the wooden frame. Vidar held his breath. The trunk slid out. He opened it and saw the crystal bottle.

  “What are you doing?”

  Vidar jolted upright, one hand on the bottle. The woman sat up in bed, naked, her hair tumbling around her shoulders.

  “Vali?” she asked in a blurry voice.

  Of course, this woman had never seen him before and mistook him for his brother.

  “Yes,” he replied quickly. “Odin asked me to find his finest wine.” He held up the bottle.

  “Where is he?”

  “A problem with the dogs. He’ll be back soon. Go to sleep.”

  She muttered something and fell back onto the blankets, lapsing once again into drunken sleep. Vidar emptied the seeing-water into a flask, then returned the bottle. He checked that he had everything and scrambled back out the window.

  “Just once more, Arvak, I promise you,” he said, tucking the bottle into a saddlebag and standing to screw the new shutter into place.

  The barking was easing off. Vidar finished his work and urged Arvak off toward the cliffs.

  “To the beach,” he said, guiding Arvak toward the long slope down to the grey sand.

  The sky was growing pale as they cantered along the beach, but the sun had not yet broken over the edge of the world. The grey water pulsed a rhythm and petrels swept by overhead.

  He reined Arvak in and sat for a moment gazing out to sea. He was so close . . . as soon as Aud had finished the poison, he could take care of Sjáfjord and be gone. Vidar felt as though his heart were permanently in his throat, waiting for something to go wrong. The sun glowed over the horizon and Vidar turned and began to make his way home toward Gammaldal. He paused near the crest of the cliff and glanced back toward Valaskjálf, in time to see a tall figure on a black horse arriving near the stables. Loki, probably coming for supplies. Fortunate that he hadn’t arrived ten minutes earlier and seen what Vidar was doing. Perhaps luck was on his side after all.

  Aud needed to travel a long way into the woods to find nightshade for her poison, past the stream and the whispers of the wood wights, to the very place where she had first asked Vidar about Midgard. She lingered there a while, mindful that she didn’t want to see Vidar return from Valaskjálf. It was growing too painful to witness his desperate passion for another. She wondered if he had slept at all since his return. He looked worn and hungry to her, as though something were eating him from within. The poison was brewing and every time he asked her if there was any chance it was ready yet, she had to tell him “no” and watch the muscles in his body contract with anxiety. He accepted her answer, but grudgingly, leaving her feeling as if it was her fault that poisons—magical poisons at that—took so long to brew.

  Aud stopped at a flat, mossy rock on a slope and sat, looking up at the dreary sky. The air smelled moist and green. If only Vidar loved her. If only Loki hadn’t so much power over both of them. If only she had never let Helgi ride Steypr. A finger of sunlight prised through the clouds and lit up the leaves. Two of her problems, she had to accept, were beyond her control, but one of them perhaps she could still do something about. Loki. Things had ended so badly the other night. Perhaps if she stopped by to see Loki, she could sweeten him again, make sure he behaved himself. He had told her he liked her, after all.

  She picked herself up and, tucking herbs into her bag, wound down the path toward Loki’s.

  Thin, drooping branches crowded around his house as though trying to claim it. She fought off a pale vine and knocked. A swirl of wind picked up leaves and scattered them across the front path. No answer. She pushed the door open but found the house empty. Then she heard hoofbeats and went outside to wait for him.

  “Aud,” he said, smiling, “I wasn’t expecting you.” He was dressed all in black, a gold thread woven around the edge of his sleeves.

  “I’ve had trouble getting away,” she said, encouraged by his smile. “You seem happy.”

  He dismounted and kissed the top of her head. “I’m in a fine mood,” he said. “I’ve done the most hilarious thing this morning.”

  “What is it?” Aud said, and though she still wore her smile, she felt uneasy. Loki’s grin was too wide and his pale eyes were glittering wildly.

  “It’s so funny, I know you’ll love it,” he said. A sudden gust gathered leaves from his roof, showering them over Aud and Loki. “I’ve been out visiting the family. Vidar annoyed me so much the other day, all pious and in love with his mortal woman.”

  Aud’s heart turned to ice. “Loki, what did you do?”

  “What do you think?” he said, the smile disappearing. “I told Odin everything.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Vidar waded into the water at Sjáfjord while Aud waited on the sun-dappled slope nearby. The poison was ready. At nightfall he would be on his way to Midgard, ready to begin a lifetime with Victoria. He wouldn’t see these valleys and woods for many long years.

  He stilled himself and waited for the water to do the same. It seemed such a simple thing that he wanted: neither riches nor honor, nor glory in battle. Just love, just one mortal lifetime.

  The water became like dark glass around his ribs; he drew the runes and waited.

  A vision formed of Victoria, her pale skin and hair; she was talking to two men; she looked anxious. He tried to grasp her words as they hushed and murmured in his ears but he could make out little. He studied her face and thought about what the years would do to it. Yes, she would grow old, and he did not mind. He would love her still, and not an instant of doubt accompanied that thought. Yet, he was haunted by what she had said: there’s a romance in growing old together, Vidar.

  If only he could. If only he could swap an eternity as the son and savior of Odin for a mortal lifetime as the lover of Victoria, with the possibility of children and a warm home for them all. The second seemed to him the richer choice by far, for what would he do when Victoria had grown old and died? What would he do the day after he had buried her, still in his young, immortal body? Return to Asgard and go on?

  Vidar closed his eyes a moment and collected his thoughts. It wasn’t wise to fret about the future when the present was already fraught with worry. He opened the flask with the poison in it and poured it into the fjord.

  The image in front of him clouded over. The poison was working.

  The glassy black water began to bubble and froth. From the measureless depths an eddy of anger swirled upward. Vidar realized too late that he was a dangerous distance from the bank.

  “Vidar, get out of the water!” Aud cried.

  Vidar turned and began to wade toward the grass. The water sucked at his legs and boiled around him. He lost his footing, fell under.

  Bitter water filled his mouth. He struggled upward. Around him the water was wild with blurred colors and images, all the things that had been seen in Sjáfjord over the centuries, blending and boiling together. He shot up, broke the surface and began to swim. A rushing sounded in his ears. From the deepest fissures in the fjord, an angry roar was gathering intensity. The furious current threatened to suck him down. Aud was shouting and waving at the edge of the water. He struggled, moved forward a few feet, then was pulled back. Aud’s hand was extended toward him, her other hand braced against a rock. His fingers brushed hers. The current caught his cloak and sucked it from his shoulders. He propelled himself forward, caught her wri
st.

  “I’ve got you!” she called.

  He heaved forward, got the top half of his body over the rock and climbed from the water to sit back and watch. A whirlpool spun behind him. He watched his cloak disappear into it, dragged into the measureless depths. Death had been close; did he fear it? He tested himself, imagining in detail the sour gush of water into his lungs, the black pressure of the fjord on top of him, squeezing out the light. No, he did not fear death. He feared a separation from Victoria far more. He caught his breath.

  Aud clutched his arm. A long groan eased out of the water. It began to still.

  “Thank you, Aud,” he said, panting.

  “I thought I’d lost you.”

  The fjord settled. Its black surface was clouded and dim. Aud glanced over her shoulder, and the sun gleamed in her auburn hair and he realized he would miss her.

  She turned back and saw him looking at her, and smiled. “What?” she asked.

  “I leave for Midgard at first dark. I will miss you, Aud.”

  She glanced away, trying to hide a smile. “You’ll forget me soon enough,” she said, climbing to her feet.

  “Wait, Aud,” he said, gently taking her wrist, “sit by me a while. I have things I want to say.”

  Aud reluctantly sat beside him, her knees curled up to her chest protectively.

  “Am I really so frightening?” Vidar asked.

  She took a deep breath and glanced around her. Then, seeming to settle on a decision, she met his gaze and said, “I have heard that you were a fearsome warrior in your day, Vidar,” she said, “but nobody warned me to protect my heart from your kindness.”

  “I never sought to hurt you,” he said.

  “Yet you have,” she said quietly.

  “For that I am sorry. Have you given thought to what you will do once I’m gone?”

  She shrugged. “Can’t I stay at Gammaldal?”

  “You’d be welcome to, but I fear that an envoy from Valaskjálf will eventually come; and then you won’t be safe.” He leaned back on his elbows in the grass. A bird hopped close to the water and drank from it, as though nothing had changed. “I have cousins in the north, beyond Idavíd. They aren’t very well known to me, but I believe they may be good people if you go to them.”