Giants of the Frost (24 page)

"A man can try to change. He can remove himself from temptations and influences, lock himself up in a house with only an exiled Vanir princess for company and divert his energy into his farm and his building projects. But he'll always be terrified that his blood will one day betray him." Aud shook her head. "I still don't believe you. I've met the Aesir and they are nothing like him. I can't imagine anything that would change them so radically as you say Vidar has been changed."

"Can't you? Can't you really?"

Aud frowned in puzzlement. "No."

Loki's voice dropped almost to a whisper. He leaned close. "How about love?"

"If he loved somebody enough to leave his family, then where is that somebody now?" she asked. "Why doesn't she share his home?"

"Odin murdered her."

Thoughts and feelings traversed her. She must not let Loki read any of them. "Tell me, then," she said. "I'll admit I don't know him, hardly at all. You must tell me."

Loki tilted his head to the side, his gaze drawing far out to sea. "Oh, I don't know if I will. It all happened so long ago."

"Please tell me. He loved someone? Who was she?"

"No, no. I won't burden you with those old stories."

Aud huffed in exasperation. "Loki, I'll go mad if you don't tell me."

"I'll tell you, if you let me kiss you afterward."

She would have laughed if she hadn't been so desperate to hear about Vidar's love. "I suppose so. I've let you kiss me once already."

Loki smiled slowly. "Do you believe in Ragnarök, Aud? Do you believe in the end of our world?" She shrugged. "We have all been waiting for thousands and thousands of years for it to happen. Sometimes I wonder if it's just a tale told to frighten children."

"Odin believes in Ragnarök. All those at Valaskjálf believe it will come."

"Of course, because they still believe the stories told about them in Midgard. They still believe they are gods."

"Vidar has a part to play at Ragnarök, according to the stories. Odin will be swallowed whole by the giant wolf, Fenrir. Vidar will save him so that he may rule over the new world." Loki held up a long index finger. "Vidar is indispensable to his father, so Odin kept him close at hand. Then Vidar met a girl. A Midgard woman."

A tingle of surprise. So Vidar had loved a Midgard woman before?

"As for what he saw in this woman, you'd have to ask him yourself. Vidar bragged to everyone at Valaskjálf, 'She is irreplaceable, she is always and forever all I will ever love.' He said he'd leave Asgard and be with her. So Odin took his dogs to Midgard and hunted her like a deer." Aud shook her head. "But that's awful."

"There's more. The best part. Vidar was enraged when he found out. He went directly to his father's chamber, Hjarta-bítr drawn. The sky grew black and the beams of Valaskjálf quaked. Would he murder his own father?" Loki shook his head and adopted a feminine voice, "Oh no. He was too frightened."

"Odin is a fearsome man," said Aud.

"Instead," Loki continued, "he killed all Odin's servants."

"What?"

"Petty, isn't it? Too afraid to break down the door to his father's chamber, he went on a murderous rampage and slaughtered every servant—woman and man—who waited on Odin. Had you been in Odin's service at the time, Aud, he would have killed you."

"I don't believe it."

"He left their butchered bodies lying about outside Odin's door and disappeared. It is said that Odin stepped out of his chamber and laughed at the scene before him."

Aud shook her head, completely disbelieving. "Come now, that isn't true. Vidar wouldn't hurt innocent folk."

"I'm telling you, Aud, he would and he did. He is not as he appears." Loki shrugged. "Anyway, Vidar disappeared for a long time. Odin grew frantic, but Vidar eventually resurfaced at Gammaldal. He never returned to live at Valaskjálf, too ashamed, or too afraid… Who knows?" Aud struggled to process everything that he had told her. She couldn't believe that Vidar was capable of such brutality and cowardice and was certain that Loki was bending the truth. But what about this mortal woman?
She is irreplaceable, she is always and forever all I will ever love
. Then how could he have already fallen for another?

Unless she wasn't
another
. Vidar's words returned to her: he had known Victoria since long before he knew Aud.

"I see I've given you something to think about, Aud," Loki said, pulling himself to his feet. "Ask him yourself about why he left Valaskjálf. Though I suppose he may lie."

"He lives apart from his family for the same reasons you do," Aud asserted. "Because they are heartless, petty, selfish and proud, and he despises their company."

Loki helped her to her feet. "That's only half of the truth. It's because they are heartless, petty, selfish and proud," he said, "and Vidar
knows
he's one of them." Aud shook sand from her skirt. "I suppose I must let you kiss me now. As payment." Loki's eyes went out to sea, squinting against the bright sun. "No. I'm not particularly interested in kisses just now. Let's head back." He strode down to the sand to whistle for Heror, leaving Aud in the shadow of the cave.

Vidar arrived at the World Tree in the middle of the morning, when the sun was warmest and brightest He had set his hopes on a fine day for his journey and had not been disappointed. At the top of the ridge, he set Arvak to wander and stood för a few moments, surveying the scene spread before him: the mountains of Alfheim, the wide, grass plains of Vanaheim. The outlands of Jotunheim waited across Utgard Bay, grey clouds lowering over their volcanic peaks and plains. His mother, Grid, lived on the southern tip of Jotunheim—over the water, through the woods, in a wild green valley. A full day's journey from his own home at Gammaldal. Beyond Jotunheim, north and farther north, were the misty lands of the dead. Few went there and returned. He had. Centuries ago… A frost slithered over his skin. He shrugged it off.

"Arvak, I'll return tomorrow, around the same time," he called. Arvak was. already heading toward a field of long, waving grass. Vidar took his breath between his teeth and headed down the steep rock steps. A high breeze found the branches of the World Tree and transformed into a low moan. He walked briskly across the valley and around the tree's massive girth in half an hour, then down farther and farther, and out toward the honeycombed cliff faces that watched Jotunheim across the water. Vidar stopped and surveyed the bay. Even though the day was warm and a light sweat was forming under his shirt, he dreaded the water. Cold dark undertows pulled any warmth from the surface. He gingerly waded in to his waist, then dived outward. The shock of cold seized him and for a moment he couldn't move his limbs. Then he took his first breath and began to swim.

Swimming so many miles was tiring, even for an immortal man with giant's blood like him, and the only way to keep his stroke even and strong was to concentrate. To banish all the thoughts that vied for his attention: Victoria, Aud, Loki, Odin. He pushed them out of his mind and focused on his muscles and joints moving, the rhythm of the water and his breathing. The water was grey and flat around him, salty on his lips. For a long time he saw nothing except sea as he plowed forward.

Vidar found the solitary nature of his journey energizing. His intention when he left Valaskjálf had been to live alone, contemplative, silent. Aud had come and chased away his solitude. Though he was grateful for her company, it sometimes seemed he couldn't retreat far enough inside his own shell. Three-quarters of the way to the other side, a dark shape passed over the sun above him. He didn't look up.
Just a petrel
. Then another dark shape. He chanced a glance upward. Hugin and Munin, Odin's spies. Two mighty ravens, vast black wings spread to catch the warm updrafts that kept them hovering above him.

Vidar rationalized his alarm. Though Odin wouldn't be happy that he visited Grid, it was no crime. He rolled onto his back in the water and called to them, "Tell my father I send my best to him!" One of the ravens cawed as they both turned on their wings and swept off, two black shadows in the perfect blue sky. Vidar took a moment paddling on his back to regain his energy. The sun shone on his face, making water drops on his eyelashes explode in rainbow colors. Then he turned and continued. His arms and shoulders burned with exhaustion, his lungs cramped, but he kept moving. The shores of the bay eventually drew closer, and he finally heaved himself ashore. He found a patch of rough grass to lie on and catch his breath while the sun dried his clothes and hair. His fingers were white and wrinkled from nearly two hours in the water. When he sat up and cast his eye back over the bay, he felt daunted; tomorrow, he would have to swim all the way back.

"Don't think about tomorrow," he said, stretching his arms over his head. He glanced around. The grassy slope led up into a tangle of trees and bushes: the woods, infested with wolves. He would have to travel silently.

When the strength returned to his limbs, he stood and trudged up the slope. The dark trees were very close together, shutting out all but a few strangled sunbeams. Vidar moved quietly amongst the shadows, careful to keep narrow branches from whipping into his face. The ground beneath his feet was uneven with roots and rocks, and the lack of sunshine caused his barely dry clothes to chill on his body. From time to time he heard the slithering of an animal's body—to the left, to the right—among the quiet trees. He tried not to let it trouble him, keeping his eyes ahead, watching for twigs and rocks that might sing and draw notice to his passage. The trees drew closer together, the grass higher, the rocks were stacked more precariously. It took all his concentration to pass through the trees without making a sound. He could smell smoke nearby and knew he was near the home of the troll-wife Jarnvidja, who bred the wolves that inhabited the fens and hunted in the wood. Her home was at the point farthest from civilization, where rough country transformed to godless wilderness.

The slithering noise again. Vidar stopped, surveyed the area carefully. He could see nothing. He closed his eyes and opened his ears. Nothing. Nothing.

There!

He spun, eyes snapping open. A streak of pale grey between trees in the distance. Nothing again, a ghost disappearing.

The snarl from behind him shocked his heart. He turned; but before he could see the wolf, she was on top of him, bringing him crashing down onto the rocky ground. Immediately she went for his throat. He struggled, a rock beneath his head gave way, he dropped out of her jaws and they snapped shut empty, spattering saliva over his face. He skidded backward, she snapped again, got his tunic. It ripped as he rolled, a rock stabbed his stomach. She got a loose grip on his leg but he kicked her off and scrambled to his feet, blood trickling into his shoe.

Vidar glanced around, counting them. Five. They formed a circle. He reached for his hunting knife. Which was the alpha? If he could distinguish the wolf that led the pack and kill her, then he had a chance the others would retreat. A half second passed and the first wolf closed in again. He caught her around the middle and rolled with her onto the forest floor, his knife plunging into her chest. The others were on top of him now. Blood splashed his face and he didn't know if it was his or the wolf's. The dim realization that this was going very badly crossed his mind, then he remembered: none of these wolves was the alpha. They were bred by Jarnvidja. Only she could call them off.

"Jarnvidja!" he shouted through a mouthful of fur and sour blood. In reply, a cry from among the trees. A howl, but made with a woman's vocal cords. The wolves instantly shrank back, and he sat up, threw the dead beast off him and waited.

"I thought I smelled Aesir." The disembodied voice was thick with disgust. Vidar glanced around, trying to track her voice. "Call off your wolves, Jarnvidja. I pass through on the way to see Grid. I mean you no harm."

"Aesirs always mean harm," she said. Her voice echoed from all sides. She was hiding herself well.

"You've killed one of my children."

Vidar glanced at the dead wolf. "You would have done the same to protect your own life. Let me go."

"And you will go straight to your mother's?"

"Yes."

A few seconds of silence ensued. Movement among the trees. Another wolf loped forward, a broad black ribbon clenched in her jaws.

"My daughter has something for you," Jarnvidja called. "Take it from her." Vidar stood as the wolf approached. He took the ribbon from her and looked at it, puzzled.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"Blindfold yourself. You may proceed in and out of these woods only with a blindfold."

"How am I to see where I am going?"

Jarnvidja snorted, a primitive laugh. "You are Aesir. You think yourself a race of gods. You'll find your way."

"I don't like your terms," he said.

"There isn't a choice, Vidar. Either you wear the blindfold or you die at the hands of my children. Twelve more wait at my side, upon my orders."

"What guarantee do I have that your wolves won't attack me anyway, when I am blindfolded?"

"You have my word," she said, in a mock-girlish voice.

"Your word?"

"Be brave, Vidar. Life is a journey in the darkness."

Vidar considered the ribbon. Resigned, he tied it around his eyes. All in front of him was black. Another cry from the woods, half woman, half wolf. He heard the wolves retreat. Tentatively, he moved forward, taking his weight on his injured leg. Pain shot up into his hip. He limped a few paces, hands in front of him cautiously.

Cold, crooked fingers closed over his wrist. "Take care that you wear your blindfold on your return journey," Jarnvidja said. Her breath smelled like stale meat and spittle. "Should you dare to venture back this way without it, my girls will have no mercy for you."

"I understand," Vidar said solemnly. "But, Jarnvidja, I have passed this way before without troubling you—"

"I needn't explain myself to you," she snapped, releasing his arm. Her footsteps retreated and he divined that he was alone in the woods.