Empty Altars (2 page)

Tyr stopped. "She's leaving."

Diana jammed her hands into her jeans pockets. Why in the hell was she here? Tyr had just reflected magic with his shield, so the Norse gods could defend themselves.

She gave the pouch, filled with bones, a frustrated squeeze. She'd be seriously peeved if the only reason the runes summoned her was to battle eight hounds.

"Leave." Tyr's one word sounded final, jolting her from her thoughts. "This is our battle. The giants have birthed more wolves. They've bred them with Hellhounds and created these." He motioned toward the monstrous corpses that littered the ground. "They're readying. Heid has joined the giants, along with her followers."

"And your reason for sending help away…?"

"We have magic of our own," Donar said, interrupting her. "We don't need you!"

"We might have lost some of our warriors, but we'd have won this battle." Tyr lowered his shield and ran his one, good hand through his shoulder-length, white-blond hair. An act of frustration, she could tell. Unlike his friend, he strove to be polite, but Diana guessed he was more accustomed to giving orders.

"Our enemies will not cross this bridge, and we'll help protect the meadow," Donar insisted.

"I take it Heid's tried this before?"

Tyr exchanged a glance with Donar. He sighed, struggling for patience. "Are you always this persistent?"

"I take my job as seriously as you take yours. The runes sent me. You'd better have a damned good reason I should leave."

"Would you die, defending mankind?" Tyr asked.

"I'm a Roman. I don't have to." She spread her hands, hoping to mollify him. "Humor me, will you? Convince me my work here is done."

Tyr gave it his best effort. "This time, instead of might, Heid is resorting to trickery. Greeks appreciate clever tactics, I've been told."

“Greeks?” Donar frowned. “I thought she was Roman.”

“Her origins are Greek,” Tyr said.

It was meant as an insult. She took it as a compliment. "When strength fails, wits prevail. The Trojan horse worked when Achilles' sword didn't."

"A coward's way." Donar balled his fingers into fists. "There is but one entrance to Asgaard, woman. This is it. We'll guard it."

Diana pulled her pouch out of her jeans pocket, fingering it. "Not good enough." She walked to a large, flat rock, knelt beside it, then emptied the pouch into her hands and tossed the twenty-four bones onto its rough surface. "Should I leave this meadow?" she asked.

Both gods looked over her shoulders, searching for an answer. Twenty three bones landed, face down, hiding the letter of the runic alphabet carved on each. They would tell her nothing. The one remaining, face up, sang to her.

"Thurisaz," Tyr said. "Destruction and defense. Conflict."

"So you know the rune's answer.” She gathered the bones and returned them to their pouch. “I stay."

"
We
don't want you
." Donar's face flushed with fury. She was surprised sparks didn't bounce off him and shoot to earth as lightning.

Tyr held up his handless arm in warning. "I would interpret your reading another way."

"They're my runes, my question—when they sing, my interpretation. They said
stay
, so I’ll stay."

Donar reached for her. Did he really think he could toss her out of the meadow? Words tumbled from her lips. Sparks jumped up and down the Viking's arms. He spasmed, trying to pull free. When his red hair stood on end, she blasted him away. He dropped to one knee in the grass, panting hard, his hammer slammed onto the ground to support himself. He stared at her, his surprise evident.

Tyr looked at his friend's hair, standing on end. He glanced at Diana, and then, to her amazement, he laughed. Clouds scudded across the sky. A breeze stirred. "Remind us not to anger you again, goddess. You've made your point. You're to be taken seriously, but we must still ask you to leave."

"Are you people just stupid?" Hands on hips, she glared.

"If indeed there will be destruction and conflict," Tyr's expression went grave, "Norse work and fight as a unit. You'd slow us down, change our rhythm."

"Who says I’d fight beside you?"

"Gods and mortals have lived in this place a long time. A new, single woman would be a distraction." Tyr smiled. It changed his entire appearance. The deep creases carved into his lean face disappeared. "You're far too attractive."

His compliment both annoyed and pleased her. Diana pushed herself to a standing position, not that it gave her an advantage. The top of her head didn't reach his shoulder. "Your men can't put aside lust in dire times?"

"You're goddess of the hunt. What male won’t fight for mates and territory?"

She shrugged. "You're turning away a willing ally."

"I know, and we thank you for your offer."

Stubborn, obstinate man! The Norse did things their own way and meant to keep it that way. But she started as a Greek, and Greeks were more flexible. Pink tinged the horizon. Birds chirped. Diana looked to the east to see the sun slowly rising. She turned to leave, waiting for them to rethink their mistake. It didn't happen. She started walking away, aware that Tyr's eyes followed her until she reached the bottom of the hill.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, huntress!" he called.

Screw him! She made one last curve, out of sight, then jerked with surprise when a woman fell into step beside her.

Damn it! Was everyone tall and golden in this foul land? A necklace of unnatural beauty circled her slender throat. "They're wrong, you know. They
do
need you. We all do."

"And you're…?"

"Freya, goddess of love and beauty. I, too, have magic, but of a different kind."

"A magic mirror?" Okay, she was being a smart ass, but she wasn't known for her patience. These people obviously wanted to suffer more than they had to. Let them.

"I use seidr—trance magic, illusions—and the gift of divination. I foresaw your arrival."

"A big lot of good that did me." Diana picked up her pace. She was tired of Vikings.

"They resent you," Freya said, easily keeping stride with her. "You come from a land of abundance and warmth. Your fellow gods and goddesses can be fickle. We, the Aesir and the Vanir, have made many sacrifices to help mankind."

"Aesir
and
Vanir?" Why didn't that surprise her? Clearly, the Viking gods couldn't get along with one another, let alone with someone from the
outside
. But, okay, she'd bite. Supposedly, they were grumpy and uncouth because so much had been demanded from them. "What sacrifices?" she asked.

"Tyr let the wolf, Fenrir, gnaw off his right hand while we tethered the evil brute."

Diana stopped, interested in spite of herself. Tyr had no clean wound, but a ragged, ugly mess. "That's how he lost his hand?"

"Woden, Donar's father, gave his eye at the well of Mimir in trade for inner wisdom. He hung himself on the World Tree to learn the secrets of the runes."

Diana touched her jeans pocket. "No wonder Donar doesn't like me. Runes might have started with the Norse, but became part of my magic. They brought me here."

"That wouldn't please him." Freya gave a wry smile. "Asking for help would please him less. We're simply not used to it. We're an independent breed."

"So am I." Diana started to walk again.

"You're not what I expected." Freya fell into step beside her once more.

Diana gave her a sideways glance. She was every bit as beautiful as Venus, but somehow, she didn't come off as quite so fickle. "Is that another insult?"

"Hardly." Freya's golden beauty didn't detract from her intelligence. "You have what’s known as grit. We respect that."

A backhanded compliment. Just what she needed. "And you don't come across as a dumb blonde." At Freya's look of alarm, Diana chuckled. A little tit for tat, but the goddess took it with grace. "A human joke," Diana explained. "You guys don't keep up, do you?"

“I used the word
grit
.”

Diana laughed. “Not a part of everyday slang anymore.”

"Mortals no longer have any use for us."

Diana shrugged. "My altars are empty too. New gods have replaced me. But I still have duties to see to, and I intend to fulfill them."

Freya gave a quick nod. "Then trust your runes, Roman. Hard times are upon us. Donar and Tyr might refuse your help, but they're wrong. If Heid and her troops cross our bridge, mankind will suffer. So will we. I'll do anything I can to help you."

"Look. Let me make myself clear. I don't involve myself with the daily struggles of mortals. As for Norse gods, you're not all that easy to work with."

"This isn't about coddling. It's about insuring mortals' existence, and that, I think, does interest you."

"In this meadow?"

"In this world. Think about it." With those words, Freya turned to leave, but her footsteps faltered. She turned back, a sly smile on her lips. "You could have touched your runes and been transported home. But you’re still here. You never really said you're leaving, did you?"

The Norse goddess was too clever. "I told you, you're on your own," Diana repeated.

"Not the same thing. Welcome to our world, friend. We’ll make a great team." Still smiling, Freya dimmed with each step until she disappeared.

A team? With a Norse goddess of love and beauty? Zeus help her! Diana shook her head. What had Freya said? Mortals' existence depended on them. But this was only one meadow. One bridge. She wondered what lay on the far side of the rainbow. She was pretty sure it wasn't a pot of gold.

Chapter 2

Diana didn't expect to be here long. One more skirmish with Heid, a few more hellhounds, then she could go home. No reason to call Noir. He wouldn’t miss her for a few days. In the meantime, though, she needed a glade, a running brook, a copse—some place to call home.

That's when she noticed the wild area to the west of the village of mortals, and the smoke rising from a lone fire huddled in the trees. She sighed. She missed her apartment on Central Park and its amenities, but she'd find nothing like that here. Amenities might make the Vikings go soft.

She reached into her jeans pocket to jostle her pouch of bones. This wasn't their usual m.o. When the runes sent her—she went, she saw, she kicked ass. End of story. Not this time. They'd transported her to the Norse idea of the good old days. But if that were true, did a mortal live outside the protective walls of the settlement? There was only one pillar of smoke. From a chimney? A hut? If a hut, who'd dare such a risk—Heid disguised as a little, old lady who lived in a gingerbread house? Was she waiting to stuff Donar into her hot oven? That thought was appealing. Not realistic, but fun to entertain. Only one way to find out. Diana shrank herself back to mortal size and started toward the woods.

She walked longer than she expected. Hot and sweaty, even though it was barely warm outside, she stopped at the edge of a tree line to study a young woman who sat on a stone hut's front stoop. Tall and willowy, the girl looked too fragile to survive this harsh landscape. A ruse? An enemy masked as a mortal?

The girl raised her head and called, "I can sense you, even though I can't see you. Make yourself known."

Blast and damn! What was it with these Vikings? Did any of them welcome someone with a smile, with hospitality? They needed a few lessons from the Greeks. Diana stepped into the small clearing. Someone had chopped trees in a wide circle, so that the hut had a decent-sized yard. A garden grew at one side of it. A chicken coop sat on the other. Roosters and hens ran as they pleased. Diana saw a fence with a goat behind the coop. Not bad. Milk and eggs. Meat, if the girl killed the chickens.

The young woman bowed her head. "To what do I owe this honor?"

Diana blinked, surprised. This girl discerned her true being. Was she more than mortal? A nymph or sprite? Did she have powers Diana couldn't sense? "How do you know me?" Diana demanded.

"I've been waiting for you. When I was shunned from our village, the old seer told me it was my destiny to live in this hut, that I'd become your servant and learn from you."

A seer? Diana's brother, Apollo, was famous for his prophesies. At one time, pilgrims visited his shrine from every known part of the world. She wondered how long ago the village seer had known of her coming and what else the old woman might know.

The girl dipped her head, avoiding Diana's gaze. Her wavy, dark hair fell forward, hiding her face. Was she concealing something? Diana's hand went to one of her hunting knives. Her fingers tightened on its hilt. "How long have you waited?"

"Five and a half years."

"Impossible!" Diana remembered ancient times too well. A lone woman would not last in the wilderness. Stray animals, stray men…she'd find no safety. Diana hated to think what would happen to most young females driven into this forest. Raped. Eaten. That this girl survived at all was a miracle. Or a trick.