Empty Altars (14 page)

"Then you should know I'm no damsel."

"True." He smiled. "Maybe that's why I wanted to hold you in my arms."

"You are so full of…."

He interrupted with a sweep of his arm. "What do you think of my home?"

She bit her lip. She'd crossed the bridge in one piece. No use making a fuss. She stopped to look around her. Enormous, stunning, stone palaces glistened in the brilliant sunlight. Turrets stretched skyward. Long halls stretched before her. A mighty ash tree loomed in the center of everything. Streams flowed from it in three directions. Everything glowed. "It's beautiful," she said and realized she was surprised. She hadn’t expected such grandeur from Vikings.

Tyr grinned. "We're not quite the barbarians you pictured us, are we?"

Is that why he’d lugged her over the bridge? So that he could show off his home? She shrugged. "You obviously have
some
culture." She glanced at the gleaming castles and wondered which one belonged to Tyr. She opened her mouth to ask, but decided against it. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, she said, "Where's the rowan? This isn't a social visit. We have work to do."

Tyr chuckled, back in his element, as he led her across an open field. He pointed to a grassy area, dotted with trees. It made her think of Central Park with her condo close by. A momentary stab of homesickness swept through her. She pushed it away.

"This way." Tyr led them past a functional looking building and Diana frowned.

It looked out of place in this regal setting. "Asgaard's metal working shop," he said, as though reading her mind. "Our weapons are made here."

She thought of Vulcan, the Greek gods' blacksmith. No one made weapons like his. But then again, maybe they did. The Norse weapons might compare. They walked up a knoll, and Diana could see two other lands far in the distance.

Freya pointed. "That's Vanaheim, my peoples' home, over there. Below us, between Asgaard and Midgard, is Alfheim, the land of the elves."

"And they're friendly?" Diana asked. The Norse had as many enemies as friends.

Tyr answered. "White elves have kind, gentle spirits. Unlike most dwarves, they know nothing of greed. They fill the world with beauty."

"Must be nice." Diana tried to think of such innocence and decided she'd been goddess of the hunt and mistress of magic far too long. "Olaf's a dwarf, and he's not greedy."

"Olaf's a rare and wonderful exception. The village is lucky to have him."

Inga fidgeted, fretting with the ties at her bodice. Her eyes darted from one thing to another until she waved her hand at the other side of the park. "There's a rowan." She started toward it, almost running. The others hurried to keep up.

Its branches started high on its trunk, but one dangled at an odd angle. "That one's for us," Tyr said. He grabbed it and twisted, and the branch came free. "Is this enough?"

Diana squinted, trying to picture it in small rectangles. "It's about two inches thick, isn't it?"

"A little more." Tyr held the branch upright beside him. It didn't quite reach his shoulder. "Is six feet long enough?"

"Will it give us twenty-four runes?" Diana wasn't sure what they needed. She'd never used wood to create runes before. She'd carved her alphabet on bones.

Tyr measured off twenty-four lengths. "This should do."

Inga wasn't listening. She gaped at the grandeur that surrounded her and seemed to shrink into herself. "Should I be here?"

"No, but these are special circumstances. I got permission to bring you." Tyr looked toward a well in the distance. "There are only certain places that we're allowed to go, since you're a mortal."

"Is this where Jorunda will come?" Inga said it as a certainty, as though Gudrun had predicted such a destiny.

"Yes, even though I get first pick, I'll pass over him so that he can be with Tyr," Freya told her.

Inga gave a quick, jerky nod. "It's so beautiful, it makes me nervous. I'm coming with him when he dies."

"Why rush things?" Diana frowned. "Join him when it's your time."

Inga looked at her as though she were talking jibberish. "A warrior must die in combat to be called to Vahalla."

"Or Folkvang," Freya added.

"What sense does that make?" Diana shrugged, dismissing the idea. "Surely a man's life and work mean something, not just how he died. And what about women?"

"Asgaard is the home of the gods," Tyr said. "Do you allow dead mortals to join you on Mount Olympus? Only the special and the brave are chosen to join us here, to prepare for the final battle."

"And the others?" Diana prodded.

"Go to Hel in the underworld, just as your dead go to Hades."

She would have asked more, but Inga shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She looked ready to bolt. "All this talk of death is making me nervous. Can we leave now?"

Tyr hefted the tree branch under his handless arm and pinned it to his side. "We have what we came for. We can return to the meadow." He was clearly eager to end this conversation.

Inga sprinted toward the bridge.

Diana tossed Tyr a look. What was he trying to hide? But she, too, was ready to depart. They could discuss this some other time.

Asgaard's brilliance took her breath away, but it had a different mood than Mount Olympus. Swords clanged from a hall somewhere close by. Hammers pounded on metal at the weapons shop. Warfare wafted in the air. The Norse constantly prepared to meet their doom.

When they reached the bridge, Inga stood at its brink, afraid to take the first step. Diana squeezed her hand and they plunged into the flames. Their footsteps quickened until they nearly ran. When Diana's feet finally touched the grass of the meadow, she sighed with relief. Inga looked so happy, Diana expected her to drop to her knees and kiss the earth. Instead, they both walked a short distance away—putting space between them and the rainbow—to wait for their friends.

Diana could clearly see Tyr's face when he stepped into the meadow. A sadness clouded his expression. He'd been so cheerful in Asgaard. She could sympathize. "You miss your home, don't you?"

"As you must miss yours." He studied her. "At least, I'm with people I know, around things I'm familiar with. You're in a foreign land, surrounded by strangers."

Diana nodded. "Part of the job."

"Are you usually away so long?"

"No, I miss my apartment. I miss my view of the park, and I'd give a miracle for a hot dog right now."

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Modern mortals do strange things to their food."

"Oh ye of little faith, I told you that progress wasn't your thing."

He grinned. "Maybe not, but there's nothing like a pig roasted on a spit."

"Or scallops with sundried tomato sauce." Her mouth watered, just thinking about it.

He shook his head. "If I ever come to your world to visit you, you can't experiment on me with foods sealed in clear bags or wrapped in thin metals."

The casual statement made her heart flutter. Would he come to visit her, then, when she left here? Would he come often? "No TV dinners?" she teased.

"No TV." He was about to say more when he looked up to see Freya watching them. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Look at her, eyes dancing with possibilities. Glad we can entertain."

Freya gave her tinkling laugh. "There's always hope, even for you, my friend."

He gathered the rowan branch closer and stalked toward the spruce trees in the distance. "Let's go. I'll help you cut and carve your runes."

Diana glanced at Freya too. She wore a smug smile. Could the goddess of love influence them somehow, change their mood? Did a Cupid hide between trees to shoot arrows at them? Zeus, she hoped not. It took all of her willpower, as was, to behave herself around Tyr.

They walked through the forest in silence. Dried needles whispered under their feet and pine scent filled their nostrils. Rocky outcrops jutted here and there. Squirrels scampered up tree trunks. The smells and sounds of nature. Diana inhaled them, and a calmness filled her. The walk was long enough, she regained her equilibrium by the time they arrived.

They decided to work on the side porch of their marble house, in the open air. Tyr took extra care, whittling each piece of wood to its proper size. Freya sanded them until they were smooth, and Diana carved the symbols of the runic alphabet on each rectangle. Inga ran from one of them to the other, helping where needed, fetching food and drinks, and cleaning up messes. No one rushed. It took three days, but when they finished, the runes shone with a soft luster, ready for Inga to use.

Inga touched them reverently. "What if you're wrong? What if I'm not Gudrun's replacement? I had no talent as a witch. What if I have no talent as a seer?"

"We'll worry about that when we have to. For now, close your eyes and choose a rune." Inga shut her eyes tight, and Diana placed the pieces of wood before her. When she picked one, Diana said, "Without looking, tell me which rune you're holding."

Inga frowned, about to argue, but then grew silent. A look of awe crossed her face, and she rubbed her fingers over the polished wood. "It's Ansuz, offering me inspiration and true vision."

"Open your eyes and see."

Inga unfurled her fingers and gazed at the symbol on the rune. "Ansuz," she whispered.

Diana nodded, pleased. "This is why Gudrun sent you to us. She knew she was going to die. And she knew you were meant to be her replacement."

"And Jorunda?" Inga asked, worried.

Freya answered. "Gudrun said that you were meant to be together. I foresaw it. It's destiny."

"I can't believe how lucky I am." Inga hugged herself.

"Not luck," Tyr told her. "Destiny. And you paid highly to find your path in life."

Inga danced around the marble benches. "But I've found it! And it's too good to be true."

Tyr frowned, opening his lips to speak, but Diana hushed him. "Let her enjoy it while she can. The responsibility will hit later."

He gave a sad smile. "You're right. She'll learn that soon enough."

"Should we take her to the village and tell Griswold of her talents?" Freya asked, excited.

"No." Tyr glanced to the trees at the edge of the clearing. "You haven't spent time with our chieftain, have you? He banished Inga, made her shunned. He misused Gudrun's magic. He sought her counsel for his own needs. This time, I'll tell Jorunda of Inga's gifts, but no one else."

Freya didn't know what to say for a moment. "But Griswold's the village chieftain," she argued.

"He's not worthy. He took Inga when Gudrun told him she belonged to Jorunda, that it was fated."

"He knew?"

"Griswold's needs come before those of his people. I won't subject Inga to his attentions again."

Freya's brow rose in a stern line. For the first time, Diana could see the fierceness of the queen of the Valkyries. "Too bad he survives Heid's battle."

"My thoughts, too," Tyr agreed.

"A pity." Her lips turned down. "But people will sense the truth. He'll wield empty power."

"But power nonetheless." Tyr turned to Diana. "I must leave now. I've been away from the village too long."

The talk of Griswold had upset him, Diana could tell. Shoulders stiff, he strode away. He had no love of the village chieftain, but then again, neither did she. Sometimes, the biggest bastards lived the longest, and mankind, as well as gods, had to endure them.

Chapter 14

For three days, Diana trained Inga and Freya in the ways of the runes. Noir stayed close to her side, happy she wasn't off wandering the Norse countryside. Occasionally, he even purred. It was nice—a down time.

Both women learned quickly. Inga was a natural, and Freya was persistent. All three knew the lull was temporary. They meant to enjoy it while they could. They were finishing a late supper when dark clouds clashed overhead and thunder rumbled in the distance. Winds whipped tree branches, and an early evening descended on them. Inga lit lanterns. Freya put fire to the wood in the brazier. Their home's interior was bright and inviting.

A short while later, rain pummeled the ground. Diana went to the open doorway to watch the storm. A bolt of lightning crackled in a zigzag line, and she smiled.

"You like storms?" Freya asked, coming to join her.

"Love them. You can feel the raw power."

"Sort of like Donar." Freya jumped when a streak of lightning hit a tall pine and an explosion boomed in the distance. "Maybe he heard me."

Diana laughed. The wild energy in the air energized her. She breathed in its scent—fresh and free. "We're making progress," she said. "In time, Inga will be as good as Gudrun, maybe better."

"No one can surpass Gudrun."

Puddles formed on the shallow dirt, then ran off toward a low spot—ribbons of water that would form a stream. Like the three of them, Diana thought, pooling together to form a team. Diana liked Freya's loyalty to the old seer. She liked almost everything about the Norse goddess. She felt giddy, carefree, bold enough to ask, "How can you be the goddess of love and beauty and be so ego free?"