Giants of the Frost (46 page)

"Your joints will ache."

"Your stomach will be at the mercy of whatever food you eat."

"You will grow forgetful."

Vidar, poised on the moment of destiny's turning, grew impatient. "I welcome it all," he said. "Victoria and I must be together, at any cost."

"Take this," Skuld said.

He moved forward and she dropped the thread onto his palm.

"You see that the colors still beat in it," Verda said. "That means possibilities are still in play. Once your new fate is decided, it will turn black."

"What am I to do with it?" Vidar asked.

"Keep it safe," Urd said. "Take it to your father."

"My father? I have to see my father?"

Skuld took up the explanation. "My sisters and I are concerned. We believe you are afraid of your father."

Vidar drew himself to his full height in indignation. "I am not afraid of my father. I am afraid of what he will do to those I love."

Urd tittered. "Oh, he's afraid."

"If you are not afraid," Skuld said forcefully, "then it will be no trouble to take this thread to him." Vidar bit down on his pride. "What must I do?"

"You must take this thread to him and declare your intention to be mortal. The change of fate will happen upon that moment."

"My father will be angry. He will still go after Victoria."

All three sisters were shaking their heads.

"No, no," said Verda. "Thor will have gathered your fate."

"Odin won't care. You'll be the least-favored of his sons."

"He'll let you go. He'll forget you."

Vidar looked at the thread, so fine and delicate in his rough palm.

"Now listen, Vidar, for this is important," Skuld said. "We will not ask for your thousand years, as you are giving up far more than that in becoming mortal. However, should you misuse the thread, one thousand years is instantly forfeit."

"You are
only
to ask for mortality to be with Victoria."

"Don't you dare change any other aspect of your fate."

"You will not like the punishment."

Vidar was only half-listening, gazing at the thread and trying to slow the rhythm of his blood. "Anything is possible," he said.

"Vidar," Skuld warned, closing his fingers over the thread, "the thread will turn black when your fate is decided. Or if either of you dies."

Vidar's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"Death is the end of fate's possibilities," Urd said, almost absently, as she resumed her work.

"When fate is no longer in play, it no longer has color," Verda added, picking up her loom.

"Yes, but why do you tell me this?"

Skuld fixed her pale eyes on him in the dark. "Vidar," she said, "do you know where your father is?" Vidar's blood chilled in an instant. "My father…" With sudden terror, he turned to run back through the labyrinth.

"Wait, Vidar!" Aud called. "You need me to help you find the way!" He found it by instinct, retracing their steps until fresh air beckoned ahead. He emerged into the first shadows of evening. Black clouds were eating the stars from the east and thunder growled and shuddered down on the hills and valleys.

"No. Oh, no."

Aud burst from the tree behind him, panting. "Vidar? What's wrong?" The wind howled in the enormous branches above them, the screech of an ancient goddess wronged. Vidar whistled for Arvak.

"Odin," Vidar managed to gasp, handing the thread to Aud who slipped it into her apron. He whistled again. Arvak appeared from the shadows. Vidar searched his pack, hoping until it hurt that this was just an ordinary storm. His hand closed over the flask of seeing-water he had stolen from Odin's chamber.

"Help me, Aud," he said, handing her the flask. The note of despair in his voice set his own nerves loose.

"Pour some of this water into my hands."

She handed the flask back, taking charge. "No, your hands will shake too much." She cupped her own hands in front of him. "Goon."

He poured the seeing-water and Aud held perfectly still while he drew the runes.

"Quickly, Vidar," she said. "It runs between my fingers." Vidar peered close in the dark. Bifrost. Heimdall. Odin on Sleipnir, galloping to the edge of the cliff. He turned, plunged a spear between the two pillars of the Bridge.

"Close it!" he bellowed, though it was little more than a whisper to Vidar's ears. Heimdall said something that Vidar couldn't hear.

"I said close it!" Odin roared. He turned his back and urged Sleipnir on. "Do not open the bridge under any circumstances. No man shall cross until I return with the woman's head."

[Midgard]

I had never felt fear before. I knew that now. At exam time in my university days, unable to sleep or eat in anticipation of that hushed moment when I flipped the paper over to see what horrors awaited me, that wasn't fear. The time I'd been sitting in an empty carriage on the Circle line in the early morning, when a drunken skinhead had lurched on board and threatened to kill me unless I gave him my purse, that wasn't fear. Perhaps those occasions had been worry, concern, anxiety, but fear was something different. When I realized that Odin was on his way, fear split open the world around me and let in a bright, sizzling heat. My body felt so vulnerable and helpless that I half expected it to collapse to the observation deck like a straw doll.

I locked the door behind me and took a moment to still my heart and admit some order to my head. Was it possible, even a little, that this was an aberrant but explicable weather phenomenon? Time grew elastic as I leaned against the back of a chair watching the readouts blinking and bleating in front of me. Skepticism had so long been my default setting that the idea of sounding the lock-down alarm seemed at first preposterous.

The women and children, hanged and burned, like ghastly dolls.

The image came back to me. If Odin was responsible for this storm and sought to repeat history, then other people were in danger too. My skepticism would be no comfort to me if I hesitated too long. I pressed the lockdown alarm and the siren began to pulse throughout the station and out over the cabins. I pressed my face against the glass and could see lights coming on in windows, wondering what I had started, and whether Vidar would come to help us.

One of the computers beeped and I turned to see the urgent e-notification flashing. I opened it. It was from the Institute, but in Norwegian. I typed "translate" and sent it back. Twenty seconds later it was there again.
Check your readings, Kirkja
.

Presuming they meant the high temperature, I typed,
Readings accurate
. The white letters flashed onto the screen:
Storm cell size? Bomb system
?

I flicked my eyes to the radar, and my heart jolted. A storm, two hundred and fifty kilometers across, was approaching from the northeast.

"Dear God," I muttered, fingers on the keyboard ready to reply. Then a brilliant flash and a mighty crack temporarily disabled two of my senses. When I opened my eyes, all the computers were resetting, flashing notification that the cable was down. Lightning had struck the satellite dish.

"What the hell is going on?" Magnus roared, dashing up the stairs.

"It's a bomb cyclone," I said, arms helplessly flapping at my sides. "Two-fifty across. It's going to knock us out."

Magnus threw open the door to the observation deck and gazed anxiously at the sky. Josef and Alex burst in.

"What is it? How big is it?" Alex panted, heading straight for the radar PC.

"They're all out," I said. "Lightning hit the satellite." The others were gathering. Gunnar dived under the desk trying to restore the computer lines. Magnus put on his best calm voice and told everyone to listen. The lockdown alarm continued to pulse.

"It appears we're in the path of a bomb weather system approaching from the northeast. I don't want anybody to panic, as we're sheltered on that side by the forest and this building is designed to withstand extreme weather. But lightning has taken out our satellite dish and—"

Another flash and a crack. Maryanne yelped with fear. Darkness descended and the siren abruptly cut off. My heart contracted and I began to tremble uncontrollably.

"What happened?"

"Somebody get a flashlight."

A beam of white appeared in the dark and lit up our anxious faces. Gordon strode out to the deck and shined the flashlight down on the generator shed. "It's been hit," he said. I ran to his side and peered down. The shed was blasted and black, a gaping hole in the roof. "Oh, God," I gasped, forcing breath in and out of my lungs.

"Our generator as well?" Josef said, bewildered.

"I'll go," Frida said, pulling on a raincoat. "I'll get the backup running."

"No!" I cried. "Nobody can leave."

The hysteria in my voice alarmed Maryanne, who touched my hand with icy fingers. "What is it?" she asked.

Magnus peered at me suspiciously. "Victoria?"

"Magnus, can I talk to you?" I said, eyeing Maryanne's trembling face. "In private." Magnus indicated that everyone else should go inside and slid the door closed behind us. The wind was gathering in power, rushing through the treetops and rattling over the observation deck. The air was thick with humidity and the smell of approaching rain.

"What is this all about?" he asked angrily.

"I sounded the lockdown alarm because I saw someone."

"Someone? Who?"

"A stranger. A man." I reached up to measure his imagined height. "With an axe. I don't want to panic everyone, but I think we're in extreme danger and need to stay locked down." Magnus ran his hand over his face and dislodged his glasses. "I can't believe this," he said. "First the satellite, then the generator. Now a murderer?" He straightened the frames and squeezed my upper arm.

"We have to keep our wits, Victoria. Be an example for Maryanne." I nodded, my throat too dry to speak.

"Where did you see him and where did he go?"

"I saw him near the instrument enclosure, but then he disappeared back toward the fjord," I lied. "He's big and has a beard and looks really mean."

"How on earth did he get to the island?" Magnus muttered to himself. "Come on, inside. We have work to do to secure the station."

Seven faces waited anxiously for us by the light of a waterproof flashlight. Magnus held his hands up. "I want you all to be calm. It appears that there is someone on the island with us." Maryanne slumped into the sofa, her face white. A general murmur passed around the room, drowned out by a roll of thunder.

"Given that we don't know who he is or what he intends, Victoria sounded the lockdown alarm."

"Can't we go out and look for him?" Carsten suggested.

"He may be armed and nobody here is qualified to be a hero. We're scientists. We will do the rational thing. We are going into lockdown, then we will sit in here and wait out the storm." Lightning flashed, momentarily drowning the room in thin blue light. "When daylight comes, we can reassess the situation. Until then, everybody stays inside. Now, let's get to work."

A weird semicalm followed as we made ourselves busy. The black panic that had inhabited me began to withdraw as I concentrated on small tasks: finding kerosene lamps, opening up the linen store for blankets and pillows, helping roll down the aluminum shutters that would protect the windows from the force of the storm, taking charge of arming the rec hall door. The wind's roar intensified and the pines were howling beyond our cocoon of metal and carpet. The violent bang of thunder occasionally shuddered down on us, or lightning would flicker under the cracks of the shutters, but Magnus's plea for us to remain rational was working. We got on with it, and half an hour later we were locked down and hiding in Kirkja Station.

I made an effort to convince myself that the storm was coincidental and not the work of vengeful Norse gods. Physical processes were usually responsible, no matter how extreme the weather. In this latitude, at this time of year, a strong thermal contrast between air masses could develop an intense weather system within hours. Yes, the knocking out of our electricity and communications seemed deliberate, but both were metal and targets for lightning.

The fear continued to bubble underneath. However, until the storm had passed, until morning had come, there wasn't another thing I could do. For the moment, I was safe.

I took refuge for a few silent moments in the female toilets, splashing my face and leaning my sad, tired head against the mirror. My skin looked pale in the glow of the kerosene lamp, which rested on the bench. Where was Vidar? I was helpless. I could do so little here in the mortal world. I needed him to save me, to save all of us, if Odin was determined to repeat history. I had no other resources to draw on. I slumped to the floor, pressing my hands into the cool tiles and letting helpless tears run down my face. I yearned for him, but I also yearned for life and light and safety. I didn't want to die, but to live without him seemed empty.

The door banged open, making my blood jump. It was only Maryanne. She registered that I was crying and began to cry too.

"Oh, Vicky, what's happening?" she pleaded, sinking to her knees next to me and clutching at my hands with damp fingers.

"It's all right, Maryanne," I said. "We're safe in here."

"How did somebody get on the island? It's not a real man, is it? It's a ghost or a demon." I hesitated too long before answering and her face crumpled.

"I should have gone months ago. When you first arrived. That's when it all started happening. I'd only heard the ghosts once or twice before then, but something in you triggered it off." Her words tumbled over each other. "Now it's too late. They're angry with us. He's going to kill us, isn't he? The demon? Is there more than one? You'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

A gust buffeted the building, shaking the walls. The shriek of the wind in the trees was unearthly, like one of Maryanne's demons wailing for revenge.

"Maryanne, hush," I said firmly. "I'm frightened too. But we're safe in here, and if you can stay calm until the storm has passed and daylight comes—"

"Then what? You know what comes after daylight? More night. More shadows for them to hide in and wait for us."