James Lovegrove - The Age Of Odin (34 page)

The effect this had on Bergelmir wasn't quite what I'd been after. He pressed the ice dagger even harder against my neck. The edge of the blade was so cold it hurt, a thread of fire on my skin. I wondered if it would feel any different when it actually sliced in, if I would even realise I was being cut.

Eyes on the prize, Gid
, I told myself,
not on the penalty
. There were five other lives here at stake, not just mine. Cy, Baz, Paddy, Backdoor and Chopsticks had placed their complete trust in me. We were none of us getting out of here if I didn't somehow turn things around, and sharpish.

"He went to Midgard, didn't he?" I said. "Apparently it never even crossed his mind to look up his own blood relatives and ask if they might be willing to chip in and do their bit. What does that tell us, I wonder, about his feelings for you? To me it says he doesn't have any - except maybe shame. It's like he's embarrassed there's frost giant in him at all. He wasn't born looking like one of you, but he has to ability to turn himself into one of you if he wants, and has he ever done that? No. He prefers looking like an Aesir. He even prefers looking like a human woman. I mean, come on! He couldn't make it any clearer than that how he's pulled up his roots."

"So?" said Bergelmir. "It doesn't alter the fact that Loki wants what we want, which is an end to the Aesir. Were he to exterminate them all, especially the accursed Thor, there would be nothing but rejoicing throughout Jotunheim."

"But do you think it'll end there? Do you think conquering Asgard will be enough for him? He's doing his best to take over Midgard. Asgard's the next step. And after that? He's the power-mad type. One world, even two worlds, won't satisfy him. Not when there are nine of them available. I reckon after Asgard, Jotunheim will be third on his to-do list."

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't," I told him, in all honesty. "But you'd have to agree it's far from a remote possibility. He has such a low opinion of you, his fellow frost giants. What's a good way of demonstrating that? By coming here and crushing you. If he can, he will."

"So what are you proposing?"

"Bergelmir, no!" said Leikn. "You're not falling for this, are you? I've never heard such claptrap in all my life."

"Hush!" Bergelmir snapped. "Stop talking, wife."

"But the human lies. With his every breath he lies. He will say anything to save his own wretched skin."

"I will be the judge of that, not you."

I buried a smirk. I was talking Bergelmir around, I knew it. Rejecting his wife's advice was a surefire sign that what I was saying was making sense to him.

"I'm proposing," I said, "an alliance."

"I thought as much," said Bergelmir. "It's out of the question, of course."

"Is it?"

"Jotuns fighting
alongside
Aesir? It'll never happen."

But the dagger was no longer pressing against my neck. That suggested it could.

"Separately, Loki's forces could beat us," I said. "Together, side by side, I doubt it. We could certainly give him a run for his money."

"And who would command this joint army?"

"You and Odin, equally."

"Has Odin consented to this?"

"I'm here as his spokesman. Anything I say carries his approval."

Bergelmir stepped back, making a thoughtful sound. The dagger was now pointing downwards. I wasn't in danger of a fatal tracheotomy any more. Hooray.

"I'm still not convinced Loki means us ill," Bergelmir said. "Blood is blood, and cannot be ignored. Forsworn perhaps, but it will always win out in the end. However..."

It was a substantial
however
, and it made Leikn fold her arms and go "Hmph!" while the rest of the assembled frost giants pricked up their ears, knowing their leader was about to make a statement of some importance.

"It would be foolish of me not to give this matter some consideration," he said. "The security of Jotunheim is paramount at all times. If we and the Aesir do share a common foe, then it isn't inconceivable that some sort of combined effort to repel that foe would be in order. I am not promising anything." This was directed straight at me. "Do not return to Odin telling him that the jotuns have agreed to some kind of pact with the Aesir. That is not so."

"What can I tell him, then?"

"That we will debate amongst ourselves, our wisest will apply their minds to the problem, and we will furnish him with an answer at some point."

"When?"

"We will not be rushed, Gid Coxall. It will be in our own time, when we feel ready."

"Can't say fairer than that, I suppose. Bergelmir, you're a star, and it's been a pleasure doing business with you."

I held out a hand. Bergelmir gave me a deep frown.

"Do you mock me?" he said. "A minute ago I was a whisker away from killing you. Now you wish to shake my hand?"

"Why not? You
didn't
kill me. That's as good a reason as any for some kind of friendly gesture."

Bemused, he wrapped his hairy paw around my hand, engulfing it.

"You," he said, "are a remarkable specimen. I find you hard to fathom. You aggravate me no end, yet it's hard to dislike you."

"You should get together with my ex. I think you and her would agree on every count. Except the not disliking part."

Bergelmir straightened up and clicked his fingers. "Release them all," he commanded. "Give them back their guns. They leave Utgard under my safekeeping. No one is to harm them. Anyone who causes them grief will answer to me."

Moments later our squad was wending its way out of the citadel, encircled by guards as before, but more of them now. I was feeling double-dicked-dog pleased with myself, as I had every right to. The boys were looking pretty chipper too. It had been a close-run thing. I'd been one careless word, one slight misstep away from getting us all slaughtered. They'd held their nerve, and so had I, and it had paid off. The frost giants were going to come onboard, I'd have bet good money on it. It might take them a while to come round to the idea, but they would. Thor wasn't going to be overjoyed, but big deal. He'd just have to get used to it. It made sound strategic sense. We needed the sheer numbers the frost giants could provide. We needed their muscle. And now we could almost certainly count on it. A good day's work, done well. Trebles all round in the mess this evening.

Except, it was more likely to be an early night for me. I'd been riding an adrenaline surge, and now it was ebbing and exhaustion was starting to slug away at me once more. The prospect of my little bunk in the dormitory cabins was awfully enticing. I couldn't wait to turn in.

Trust me for thinking smug, cosy thoughts just when a huge consignment of shit was on course to hit a very rapidly spinning fan.

Forty-Two

The squad was strung out in a line, single file, with me at the head, so I didn't myself see what actually sparked off the whole clusterfuck. All I knew was that, suddenly, someone was firing shots, and a frost giant was screeching in agony, and other frost giants were roaring and gibbering, and all kinds of chaos had erupted.

I spun round, and there was a mill of bodies, big and small, frosties and humans. Glassy weapons shone in the sunlight. Guns sparked and spat. Suttung was ordering his guardsmen to stand firm and retaliate. They, for their part, weren't too keen on obeying. Two - no, three - of them were lying on the ground, blood pumping out through shattered ice armour. I glimpsed Paddy and Baz, both down on one knee, blasting away with their assault rifles. Cy and Backdoor were backing off towards the nearest wall, laying down suppressing fire. Chopsticks wasn't immediately in view.

We were in some kind of open-air marketplace, located in a square with an entrance at each corner. Frost giant civilians were screaming and running for cover. Vendors cowered behind their stalls.

Suttung at last got his subordinates marshalled. They mounted a concerted attack, and my lot redoubled their defensive efforts. Me, I was still too stunned to react. I couldn't make sense of how things had gone so pear-shaped so quickly. I heard myself yelling for a ceasefire but nobody could hear me above all the hullabaloo and gunplay, and anyway there were frost giants now coming at us from all directions, so putting up our weapons was not a viable tactic.

Finally I spotted Chopsticks amid the mêlée. He was crawling towards an open doorway, leaving a huge smear of blood behind him on the ice like a crimson slug-trail. I darted towards him, but a frost giant blocked my way. He had a see-through broadsword in his hands, which he swung and whirled impressively. I unholstered my Glock and took out his left kneecap. I hurdled him as he collapsed, still beelining for Chopsticks.

Somebody else was heading towards him too, unfortunately. A frost giant, and he was much closer than I was. He was equipped with a kind of scythe. It had a reach of at least three metres, and the comma-shaped blade was as long as my arm. I loosed off a couple of rounds at him, but I was going full tilt and my aim was off. Chopsticks wasn't even aware that the bastard was looming over him. He kept on crawling, using elbows and clawed hands, every inch of his progress a hideous, agonised effort. He was half-paralysed, I guessed, his legs useless, some kind of spinal injury, and the doorway was broad and inviting, a promise of sanctuary, of safety...

And then the frost giant with the scythe took a powerful sideways swipe at him and sliced him clean in two at the waist.

"
No!"
I hit the frost giant running, slamming into him shoulder first. As he went down I double-tapped him in the face with the Glock, point blank range. Hollow-point Parabellum rounds; his brains hit the ground before the rest of him did.

I whirled and sprang to Chopsticks's side, but there were to be no groaned last words from him, no brave smile for his comrade-in-arms. The scythe had left him instantly, utterly, uncompromisingly dead.

I rose shakily. Took stock.

Frost giants were closing in on the other four, who were still in their pairs. Bullets picked off the frosties one by one, but as each fell another lunged in to take his place. We hadn't brought heaps of ammo with us. The guns had been meant for security and show. Nobody had reckoned on needing them for a full-scale ding-dong. I saw Baz toss his Minimi aside, having used up both the magazines he'd had on him. Out came his sidearm, a Browning BDM semiauto. Its clip held fifteen rounds, but after that was empty there'd be no more.

From the way Backdoor was conserving shots with his SA80, I guessed he was running low too.

And more frost giants were piling in from elsewhere. Civilians, unarmoured, were getting in on the act, picking up any handy object and bringing it to the fray.

It was hopeless. Only one thing we could do.

"Fall back!" I called out. "We can't hold position. Fall back!"

The lads heard me and understood, and I jabbed an arm behind me in the direction of the square's south-east corner, which is where we'd been headed before everything went tits up, and I supplied covering fire to allow first Baz and Paddy, then Cy and Backdoor to retreat to the exit there, and they in turned covered me while I joined them.

We scarpered out of the market square down a narrow passageway, with frost giants pursuing us in a howling, irate mob. Shots over our shoulders gave them something to think about but didn't deter them much. We weren't aiming, and mostly all we did was blow a chunk out of the side of someone's house or turn a windowpane into something you'd put in your gin and tonic.

We zigzagged left and right through a maze of side-streets and alleys. I'd no idea if this was the route we'd come in by, although I was 99% sure it wasn't. Our principal objective was putting distance between us and our pursuers. Beyond that, if we were lucky enough to find our way to the main gate or even just the perimeter wall, that would be a bonus.

"Anybody got a clue what happened back there?" Baz yelled. "Who the bloody fook started firing and why?"

"Save it," I told him. "We can post-mortem later. First let's make sure there's no more mortem to be post."

We rounded a corner and, would you believe it, ran headlong into another bunch of frost giant guards. This lot, four in all, had obviously been alerted by the gunfire that something untoward was up and were rushing to help. We despatched them in pretty short order, but it cost us precious bullets and the delay gave the frosties chasing us time to catch up.

A whirling object whistled past my ear, embedding itself in the wall to my right. One of those ice tomahawks. An inch to the left and I'd have been deaf on both sides; two inches and not being able to hear would have been the least of my concerns.

"Move!" I bellowed, and we moved, leaping over the frost giant bodies in front and scurrying pell-mell along the street. We were in anaerobic mode, like sprinters, sucking in enough air to meet our muscles' demand for oxygen but with nothing to spare. We couldn't keep up this pace much lomger. Cy, the youngest and by far the fittest of us, was racing ahead, but even he would burn out eventually. Flat-out, we were faster than the frosties, nimbler. But they took longer strides, and were generally stronger, with greater levels of endurance. In short, we were managing to stay ahead of them but only just, and we wouldn't be able to maintain our lead indefinitely. When we crapped out they'd be on us in a flash, and once our remaining bullets were spent and our guns were removed from the equation, we stood about as much chance of surviving as I did of sleeping with Jennifer Lopez.