Viking Boy (12 page)

“Er … forgive me for asking,” said Viglaf. “But what’s your plan?”

“Leave him alone,” said Thorkel. “Can’t you see he’s thinking?”

“I was only asking,” snapped Viglaf. “No need to be so grumpy.”

“
Me
grumpy?” said Thorkel. “You’re the grumpiest man I know.”

Soon they were wrangling again, the crew looking on and laughing. Gunnar tried to block out their voices, but it was impossible. After a while Rurik came over to him. “When in doubt, do anything,” said the big man. “That way you’ll probably make something happen. Why don’t we head inland, you and I?”

“Thanks, Rurik,” said Gunnar. “What would I do without you?”

Rurik smiled and they set about preparing for the journey. Thorkel grumbled when he realized he wasn’t being invited along, but not much. Viglaf gave them cloaks and some dried fish and flasks of water. He also gave Rurik a byrnie and a sword from the
Sea Eagle
’s weapon chest. At last they were ready.

“Well, take care,” said Thorkel. “And don’t worry, Viglaf will wait.”

Thorkel raised his hand in farewell and they started up the path, Rurik taking the lead. They soon entered the mist, which grew thicker as they climbed. At the top of the cliffs the path disappeared into it a few paces ahead.

Suddenly Gunnar felt a cold breeze stirring and the mist parted as it had done at sea. He heard the beating of wings and harsh cawing, and a pair of ravens flew out of the mist to land in front of them. They cawed again, leaped back into the air and flew off in the direction from where they had come. Gunnar and Rurik turned to each other and grinned. Then they followed the birds.

They walked across empty, rocky country, the ravens just keeping ahead of them. After a while they arrived at a gorge, its entrance flanked by huge stone pillars, and at that moment the sun burned through the mist. Gunnar looked up and was amazed to see a colossal rainbow arching across the sky. One bright end was grounded in the gorge, the other lost in the far distance.

“Bifrost…” said Rurik. “So such a thing really does exist.”

“Why of course it does!” said a booming voice, and a red-bearded giant appeared. He wore a shining silver helmet and a silver byrnie that reflected the colours of the rainbow bridge. In one hand he carried a tall spear, its perfect leaf-shaped blade gleaming in the bright light. Gunnar knew this was no mortal.

“You must be Heimdall,” he said, remembering what Odin had told him.

“And you must be Gunnar, the boy who wants to visit Valhalla,” boomed Heimdall. “Odin told me to keep an eye out for you – and not to stand in your way. He’s impatient to see you.”

“Your quest is almost over, Gunnar,” said Rurik, slapping him on the back. “It won’t be long before you’re on your way home with your father.”

Gunnar smiled and they stepped forward, but Heimdall barred Rurik’s way with his spear. “Only the boy,” Heimdall said. “Odin didn’t speak of you.”

Rurik scowled and half pulled his sword out of its scabbard, ready to fight the God. Gunnar put his hand over Rurik’s, stopping him. “Don’t worry, Rurik,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Go back and wait with the others.”

“Very well,” said Rurik, his eyes still fixed on Heimdall’s. Then he turned to Gunnar, his face troubled, as Gunnar remembered it from their night on the drowning posts. “My brother’s name was Olaf,” said Rurik. “He died bravely, so he might be up there. If you see him, tell him…”

“I will, Rurik,” said Gunnar. “So, Heimdall, what do I have to do?”

“Just go to the foot of the rainbow.” Heimdall lowered his spear and moved aside. “You’ll soon work it out from there.”

Gunnar went past him into the gorge, a jagged crevice in the land with rock walls rising on both sides. He walked towards Bifrost, and as he got closer he began to make out the colours blending into each other – red, yellow, green, blue, purple – the whole thing like a giant column of magical, sparkling ice.

He looked back. Rurik was watching intently from the entrance to the gorge, Heimdall next to him. Gunnar carried on until he was less than an arm’s length from the bridge. He looked for steps within it, but found nothing. He went closer, took a deep breath … and touched the rainbow.

His fingertips tingled – and he was pulled inside, then felt himself being flung upwards at incredible speed. He was flying
in
the colours, helpless as an autumn leaf caught in a fast-flowing river, and screaming at the top of his voice.

Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun. Gunnar flew out of the rainbow and rolled over and over until he came to a halt. He lay face down for a moment, gasping for breath, and only raised his head when he heard the sound of ravens cawing. The same two birds were standing in front of him, staring at him with their beady black eyes, their heads cocked to one side.

“Hugin and Munin…” he murmured. “How did
you
get here?”

“They live here, Gunnar,” said a voice. “At least they do when they’re not being my eyes and ears. Welcome to Asgard, home of the Gods.”

Gunnar looked up. He was on a path that climbed a short, rocky slope. At the top was a great throne carved from stone, and sitting on it was a smiling Odin. He wore a long white robe and was bare-headed, but otherwise he was the same old man Gunnar had met at the God House. Above them the sun was shining in a blue sky, although a pale moon was also visible. The ravens flew to Odin, settling on the throne like sentinels behind him, one on either side.

Gunnar stood for a moment, taking it all in, amazed he was truly
there.
But then he remembered all that had gone before and resentment swelled in his heart. “I suppose I should thank you,” he said. “You were generous to me at the God House, and I would have drowned if you hadn’t given me that knife in Kaupang. But why did you let it all happen? Why did I have to suffer?”

The ravens squawked, but Odin just laughed. “If I didn’t know before that you weren’t afraid of anything, I’d know now,” he said. “How many other boys would talk to me like that? How many men?”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Odin sighed. “I can’t control what happens in your world, Gunnar. Skuli was right about man being wolf to man. You mortals do terrible things to one another – always have done, always will. But Rurik was right as well. It is the Norns who weave everyone’s fates, even mine. There is no escape from fate.”

“So why did you help me?”

“Because you made me an offering of the only precious thing you had.” Odin held out a hand – and showed him Father’s amulet in his broad palm.

How strange to see it after all this time, Gunnar thought, and to know in whose palm it lay. But how fitting too. His journey had begun with the amulet, and now the journey was ending with it. It seemed his quest
was
over, although he had another question he hardly dared ask. Gunnar raised his eyes to Odin.

“Is my father here?” he said, his voice a whisper. “Can I see him?”

“Turn around, Gunnar,” said Odin. “He has been waiting for you.”

Gunnar did as he was told. Father was behind him, smiling as he always used to when Gunnar came home to the steading after a day running wild in the forest or out along the Great Fjord. He was dressed as he had been on the night of the hall burning, but there was no bloodstain on his tunic.

“Is it really you, Father?” said Gunnar, his heart leaping.

“Yes, Gunnar,” said Father, hugging him. “It’s really me.”

Gunnar hugged him back, surprised to find himself as tall as Father now. He stood back to look in Father’s eyes, then turned to face Odin. “I have one last favour to ask of you,” he said. “Will you let my father come home?”

The smile on Odin’s face vanished like the sun behind a thunder cloud, and he uttered five words that hit Gunnar like hammer blows.

“No, that can never be.”

F
OR A MOMENT
Gunnar was too shocked, too disappointed to speak. “But I swore on the blood of my ancestors!” he managed to splutter at last. “I need Father to come home with me so he can kill Skuli and Grim and save Mother…”

“
You
swore the oath, Gunnar,” said Odin. “So only
you
can fulfil it. To avenge your father’s death you will have to kill Skuli in single combat.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that at the God House?” said Gunnar, his heart filling with anger and resentment again. “You could have saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Ah, but you needed the trouble,” said Odin. “It was the only way.”

“Now you’re talking in riddles,” said Gunnar. “I don’t understand.”

“The instant you swore the blood oath you stepped into the world of men,” Father explained. “Odin set you on a path that would help you grow up quickly.”

“Is that why it had to be so hard? Is that why I had to be a
slave
?”

“I didn’t choose that for you, Gunnar,” said Odin, shrugging. “It was what happened to you on your journey, that’s all. Still, it seems to have worked.”

“Odin is right, you’re not a boy any more,” said Father. “And I’m not just talking about you being taller. I’ve seen what you’ve done, what you’ve suffered – Odin showed me everything. You might only be sixteen summers old, Gunnar, but you’re braver than most men twice your age. Rurik and Thorkel must think so or they would never have agreed to serve you.”

“Even so…” Gunnar said uncertainly. “How can I fight Skuli?”

“I can teach you to be a warrior,” Father said. “I always took you hunting with me from the time you learned to walk, so I know you can use a spear. And I showed you something of how to use a sword and shield, if only in games…”

“There are others here who can help you too,” said Odin. “Great warriors who sit in Valhalla with little to do, waiting for Ragnarok and wishing they were still alive in the mortal world. When you have learned what you need, you can go back with Rurik and Thorkel and Viglaf and his crew and they can deal with everyone other than Skuli. You would never have met them either if it hadn’t been for your journey.”

“But all that will take too long, won’t it?” said Gunnar.

“Don’t worry,” said Father. “Your mother is safe for the time being. Skuli pressed her hard to begin with, but she held him off. He said he would give her a year and a day – then marry her whether she liked it or not.”

Gunnar looked at him and Odin. Could they really turn him into a warrior in such a short time? They clearly believed it was possible, but Gunnar’s heart was still full of doubt. If only he could be sure. If only he could know the future! Then he remembered he was at the top of Yggdrasil, and sitting at the foot of the tree were three beings who had already decided what was to happen.

“All right,” he said. “But first I want to ask the Norns about my fate.”

“You might not like the answer they give you,” said Odin, frowning. He and Father exchanged a look, and Father shrugged as if to say it was fine with him.

“I’ll deal with that if I have to,” said Gunnar.

“Very well,” said Odin. “Close your eyes, Gunnar…”

* * *

Gunnar did as he was told, and when he opened them he was standing before a vast, endless tangle of knotted fibres that pulsed – and he knew that he was looking at the web woven by the Norns. A light flared near by, and Gunnar saw three hunched figures in ragged black cloaks, their skin pale and wrinkled, their mouths toothless and drooling, their hair like nests of snakes. One sat at a huge spindle, new threads spooling off it into the hands of the second, who swiftly wove them into the web, and the third wielded a giant pair of shears.

“Spin and weave, spin and weave,” said the first.

“Into a line of silver thread,” said the second.

“Then with a little snip … you’re dead, dead, dead!” said the third, cutting through several threads at once. The three of them cackled, and Gunnar heard ghostly voices, the spirits of the newly dead wailing softly in the darkness. He wondered who they had been and how they had died. Then all three Norns turned to stare at him, their hands still spinning and weaving and cutting ceaselessly.

“Well, well, well,” said the first. “Who have we here?”

“It’s the boy,” said the second. “Our chosen one!”

“Watching him suffer was so much …
FUN
!” said the third.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said, returning their gaze. “I came here to ask you a question, but now I have more than one. Why did you choose to make me suffer? And what will my fate be, and that of Skuli?”

“If not you, who else?” said the first, shrugging.

“Too happy, far too blessed!” said the second.

“Definitely in need of a test,” said the third, and the cackling began again.

Gunnar sighed. Was that it? He had been too happy, too blessed in his life and parents, so they had decided to take it all away from him? Perhaps it was best never to be happy, then. You couldn’t miss what you didn’t have. But even as the thought came to him he realized that was no way to live his life.

“You didn’t answer my other questions,” he said.

“Should we tell him of his fate?” said the first.