Son of Thunder (Heavenly War Series) (3 page)

The rain had turned to snow overnight before it let up completely. Meghan and Jord sloshed through thick slush as they exited Pillsbury Hall. There was still a chill in the air, but Meghan could see the sun just starting to push out from among the clouds. She found the cold, fresh air invigorating. Jord had procured a fleece lined coat, hat and gloves for her from somewhere. He again wore his leather duster.

Jord’s Harley stood where they’d left it the night before. Even though a light mist still hung in the air, the bike’s seat was completely dry.

“Where are we headed?” Meghan asked as he again jammed the helmet on her head.

“Home,” was all he said.

Meghan wondered why she was letting herself be led around by this man. She had things she needed to do.

“I have to go to work today, and I really need to check on the damage at the museum.”

A part of her still couldn’t believe it was all real. If her museum was as damaged as she imagined, she’d have to get there and get there fast. She wondered if she could even get the place open today.

“The clean-up is already underway and you are on leave.” Jord smiled at her. “A family matter came up. You were not sure when you would be back to work. The museum board will be approving your leave of absence this morning.”

Before she could ask him more, he kicked the big Harley to life and the noise of the engine drowned out anything she tried to say.

Meghan felt completely out of control. How could this man, whom she’d only met last night, have so completely thrown her otherwise ordered life into such chaos? And how was it she just kept accepting every crazy thing he said to her?

Deep down she had to admit, she still thought this whole thing a dream . . . a hallucination. There was just too much to take in. Maybe she was just plain crazy. In any case, Jord Thorson was the key, and sticking with him seemed the only way to get the answers she needed.

They headed north, taking highway 35W toward New Brighton. The sun continued to peek out from behind the clouds now and then. Ahead of her, Meghan saw a rainbow begin to form. It was beautiful and the colors seemed more vibrant than any rainbow she’d ever seen before. It became even more beautiful and intense as the rainbow got closer.

“Wait a minute,” Meghan said to herself. “Rainbows don’t get closer.”

This one does.

Meghan stopped even trying to pronounce Megingjörð, even in her mind. Unable to talk to Jord over the roar of the cycle engine she started to talk to the belt.

“So, belt, do you know where we’re going?”

Home.

“You’re as bad as he is.”

Any description I could give would not be adequate. Trust me. You’ll love it.

“Can’t you tell me anything? I mean, why me?”

It was no accident I was compelled to send myself to you. You are important to us.

The rainbow was right in front of her. It was surreal and brightly vibrant. As she got closer to it she noted the individual bands of color. Translucent, ethereal, she could see the landscape behind it, richly tinted by the bright colors. The rainbow stretched across the road ahead of them. She could actually see the end point.

“So where is the pot of gold?”

Oh please, that’s just a silly old myth.

There was a hint of humor in the belt’s voice.

The motorcycle was barreling right towards the point where the rainbow met the road and Meghan saw the end curl and stretch out, becoming a ramp. The cycle roared right up onto it.

Suddenly the world was at her back as they climbed up the rainbow steadily—straight up and away toward the clouds. Meghan felt sick, expecting at any time to plummet back toward the ground, but the cycle held true and continued to climb. Gravity seemed to pull down toward the rainbow, and not back toward the earth. The impossibility of what they were doing held her somewhere between fascinated and terrified.

Meghan tightened her grip around Jord’s waist. She wanted to scream. How was any of this possible? Suddenly they were lost in the clouds. The Harley roared along as the mist swirled around them. Then sunlight appeared—the sky overhead was bright and blue. They were up above the clouds.

They reached the top of the rainbow’s arc, but instead of dropping off, it leveled out. Ahead she saw a vast city resting on the clouds. There were tall buildings, shining golden in the sun. Most of them were massive.

The rainbow ended on a street that appeared to be paved with silver stones. Jord pulled up to the first building, a tall tower of a structure. As he turned off the cycle Meghan jumped from the seat and swatted his shoulder.

“You might have warned me a bit, about what to expect.” Her heart was still racing, but now that her feet appeared to be on solid ground again she felt herself calming down.

“Be honest.” He smiled at her. “Would you have believed me if I’d told you?”

Had anything that had happened to her lately been believable?

“No,” she admitted.

“Jord!” A husky voice called from the doorway of the building. “Welcome home.”

A large man in blue jeans and a black T-shirt with an ornate sword belt strapped around his waist leaned on the doorpost of the tower entrance. He had short blond hair and a very full beard. The sword at his side had to be almost four feet long. He was smiling and waving.

“Heimie.” Jord went to take his outstretched hand. “Any news of my father?”

“None that I’ve heard,” Heimie replied. “Your grandfather has been looking for you though. Maybe he has some news I haven’t heard.”

“There isn’t anything you haven’t heard, Heimie.” He patted the man on the shoulder.

The man then looked a Meghan, raising one of his eyebrows. “And what do we have here?”

Jord turned to her. “Heimie, meet Meghan Larson. Meghan this is Heimdall, guardian of Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge. He’s kind of like the TSA at airports.”

“Welcome, Meghan Larson,” Heimdall said. “Welcome to Asgaard.”

Jord was impressed at how Meghan was taking everything in stride. Most mortals would have freaked out by now. There was something about her, something Jord just couldn’t put his finger on, but found incredibly attractive.

Sure, she was beautiful, but living in Asgaard, Jord had grown up surrounded by beauty. No it was something more than her expressive brown eyes, luscious brunette curls, or that cute button nose. More than the curves he was aching to caress, or the lips he found himself tempted to kiss.

Maybe it was her strong inner spirit. That was something Jord saw right away when he’d met her. It shone like a bright light around her. Or could it possibly be how calm and collected she’d remained under such extreme circumstances? Whatever it was, Jord knew nothing could ever be between them, so he left it alone. When mortals and gods mixed, the result was usually not pleasant.

Jord tore his eyes from Meghan and addressed Heimdall. “Have they discovered the identity of the traitor yet?”

That one of the gods could be a traitor to Asgaard was almost unthinkable, yet there could be no other conclusion. The betrayal of Asgaard had come from within.

Heimdall scratched his beard. “No, Jord. It is unsettling, to be sure. I can’t imagine what would induce any Asgaardian to betray us. Not since the time of Loki has there been this much distrust in Asgaard.”

He invited them in for coffee and talk, which Jord thought an excellent idea before he spoke with his mother, or his grandfather. Heimdall had always been one of his best friends. How many times over the years had Jord found himself here, at Heimie’s table, talking with him? Yet the bridge guardian never tired of answering Jord’s questions.

And Heimdall was in a position to know lots of things, though lately he’d counted on Jord to help him put the pieces together. Heimdall’s eyesight and hearing were the best in the nine worlds, plus he didn’t need to sleep, so he was constantly on watch. His mind, ever vigilant, was taking in everything going on around him, here and throughout the nine worlds. From major events like a flood in Australia or the birth of a new prince in Alfheim, to the small details, like a butterfly hatching or where that missing sock from your last laundry load had dropped. Heimdall had it all in his head somewhere. Getting information out of his head, was another story altogether.

Like a vast overstuffed library of information, without a card catalog or filing system, Heimdall’s mind had become clogged over the millennium. Centuries ago, when there were fewer people around and fewer events to remember, he’d been able to find the sight or sound he was searching for fairly easily. Lately, however, with so much more to process, Heimdall had gone into a bit of information overload. Jord made it a priority to stop by from time to time and help him sort things through. As incredible as it all seemed, with just a little help, Heimdall could dig up an important sight or sound, and describe it in intricate detail.

Still, dark deeds and evil intent could sometimes be hidden from him. Norn magic could cast shadows so deep even Heimdall’s incredible senses could not penetrate them. Who the traitor was that loosed the great wolf, and where Jord’s father was, were just two examples of this.

Yet Heimdall was a fountain of information and a true treasure of Asgaard. And Jord loved the old god.

“So Megingjörð has adopted you,” Heimdall said to Meghan. “It is good to at least have it back with us.”

That bothersome belt. Why in the world had it locked itself around Meghan’s waist?

“Have you picked up anything about the belt lately, Heimie.” He was asking a lot of his old friend, but he knew Hiemdall was as anxious to find Jord’s father as he was.

“Let me think.”

Heimdell’s eyes glazed over as he ran through the billions of sights and sounds his mind accumulated over the past weeks. When he spoke, his voice was different, mimicking the true speaker of the phrase.

“You should have heard him roar when they took his belt.” Heimdall’s voice was higher
—
the accent reflected that of the dark elves.

“The belt was just gone, and he’s none too pleased.” That Heimdall said in a lower, guttural voice. It had to be a giant.

“I have located the belt in Midgaard. It is at a museum, in a city known as Minneapolis.” This time Heimdall mimicked a feminine voice.

“Bring me that belt and the Son of Thunder.” That voice was unmistakable. Fenrir. Jord reached out and grabbed Heimdell’s shoulder. “Stop, old friend. Go back to the last vision. What do you see?”

“Giants and dark elves.” Heimdall now spoke in his own voice. “Armies massing for war. The Great Wolf leads them. They mass at Utgard Keep in Jotunheim. They will march soon.”

Heimdall’s eyes cleared. “That was yesterday.”

An army massing at Utgard Keep and under Fenrir’s command would be a dire threat to Asgaard.

“You’d best get that vision to Odin.” Jord patted his friend on the shoulder. “Go to him. I must stop by to see my mother first, but I will meet you there as soon as I can.”

Jord grabbed Meghan’s hand. “Come on, we may not have much time.”

Jord was tense. Meghan could feel it. Something big was happening around her, but she’d no idea what it was. As Jord guided her through the great city, Meghan was stunned at the grandeur of it. The buildings and fountains, parks and plazas, everywhere she looked she was surprised and impressed with the perfection of it all. There was not a pile of trash to be seen or even a leaf out of place.

And the people. The men were all tall and handsome, the women stunningly beautiful. Ivory skin and blond or reddish-blond hair abounded. Most seemed young, though she saw very few children.

But there was something in the air Meghan could feel. The people seemed tense; worry lined the faces of many. They spoke in hushed voices. Suspicious eyes darted from side to side as the people slunk through the streets. A dark pall seemed to have descended on the golden city.

They came to what she could only describe as a fortress, resting against one of the stout city bulwarks. Tall towers and thick walls ringed a massive central keep.

Meghan was astounded by the size of the building. “You live here?” If this is what Jord called home, he had to be slumming in Minneapolis.

Jord shrugged, his broad shoulders making the gesture seem comical. “It’s my parents place. I have an apartment in the Cities. It’s much cozier.”

A huge front door opened automatically as they approached and they entered into a grand foyer. A fountain dominated the entry and was framed by two huge winding staircases. A young woman stood in front of the fountain.

The woman was stunning. Radiant gold hair spilled across her shoulders. She literally sparkled.

“Jord.” The woman held her arms wide.

“Mother,” Jord acknowledged, accepting the hug.

No way. This woman could not possibly be old enough to be Jord’s mother. Then again, nothing made sense lately, so why not? This place and these people were all totally unbelievable.

Jord turned toward Meghan. “Mother, this is Doctor Meghan Larson.”

The woman beamed a smile at Meghan and held out a hand to welcome her.

“Welcome to our home, Doctor Larson.”

Meghan took the offered hand. It was warm . . . real. “Thank you, Mrs. Thorson. It’s really quite a place you have here.”

The woman seemed confused for just a moment, but then her face brightened. “Please, call me Sif.”

Jord smiled. “Mom isn’t Mrs. Thorson. I was named in the old Nordic tradition. My father is Thor, so I am Jord, Thor’s son . . . thus Thorson.”

Bells were going off in Meghan’s head–old memories of her mother’s favorite stories. “Wait a minute . . . Asgaard, Sif, Thor. Are you telling me you’re the son of Thor, the God of Thunder, from Norse mythology?”

Bingo!
The belt seemed very pleased with itself as its voice resounded in Meghan’s head.

“Okay, now I know I’m dreaming.”

Sif shook her head. Concern clouded the woman’s face.

“I wish that were true, dear. Mortals that get caught up in our business do not tend to fare very well.”

Sif turned to Jord.

“Jord, why would you bring this mortal to Asgaard?”

Jord shrugged and pointed toward Meghan’s waist.

“It’s Megingjörð mom. The belt seems to be convinced Meghan needs to be a part of this and it’s being completely unreasonable about it.”

“I see.” Sif’s eyes traveled down to the belt. She reached out to touch the buckle and her serenity crumbled just a bit. Meghan could see concern on the woman’s face.

“That’s why I came here first.” Jord raised his hands in frustration. “You seem to have a connection to the belt.”

Sif knelt down. “Megingjörð, my old friend, tell me what you know and why you’ve put this poor mortal in such danger.”

Meghan felt a bit uncomfortable with the woman talking to her belly. She realized this must be what pregnant women feel like when people talk to their babies. How many times had she done that? Okay, she made a mental note never to do it again.

The woman was silent for a long moment, then nodded her head. “I see.” She rose to her feet.

“It appears the dwarf that made Megingjörð crafted better than we knew, all these many years. The belt has been compelled to follow a destiny. A course has been set.”

Suddenly Meghan began to speak, but the voice was different from her own. She had no power to stop. No control over what she was saying. An icy chill crept up her spine.

“Know this,” Meghan heard herself saying. “The Son of Thunder and this daughter of Midgaard will venture to the lands of Svartalheim and Jotunheim, to the very bowels of Utgard Keep. The power of the three artifacts will be reunited and the old ways will pass. A secret from the past is the key to the future, but a life must be freely given if the golden city is to be saved.”

Jord’s eyes widened, but Sif grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and hurriedly wrote down what Meghan was saying.

“It’s a prophecy.” Sif Jammed the paper into Jord’s hand. “Take this, and her, to your grandfather. Tell him everything. Odin will know what to do.”

Sif then shoved Jord and Meghan toward the door. “Go!”