Son of Thunder (Heavenly War Series) (4 page)

“What would you have me do, Freyr!” The King of the Norse Gods was an imposing figure. “This prophecy is very specific. It says
this
daughter of Midgaard.”

Freyr didn’t back down. “What chance has a mortal in the land of the dark elves, let alone Utgard Keep? You would be sending her to her doom.”

Meghan had been standing for over half an hour in Valaskjalf, the great hall of Odin, as the gods debated her fate. The place was seriously creeping her out.

The tall, intricately carved columns and heavy wooden beams made the great hall seem foreboding. Then there was Odin himself
—
the eye patch, the two crows on his shoulders, and his tendency to wave this big spear around when he got agitated. And he’d been constantly agitated the entire time she’d been there. This barrel-chested, white-bearded old man was no Santa Claus.

Then there were the dead, the Einherjar. Jord explained they were the spirits of warriors who died bravely in battle. They floated in from other parts of Valhalla, sometimes wandering right up to her. Jord was very specific. “Don’t stare at them, don’t talk to them, don’t even make eye contact if you can help it.”

It all started well enough. A group of gods had been gathered in the hall when she and Jord entered. Heimdall had just finished telling about what he’d seen and heard, and the gods were deep in discussion.

Talk escalated to arguments, and voices rose. From what Meghan picked up, an army of dark elves and giants was preparing to invade Asgaard. With everything else that was happening, of which Meghan had only heard bits and pieces, this new revelation was different
—
more important. It threw the gods of Asgaard into a frenzied state.

Amidst the clamor, Jord reached his grandfather, Odin, and handed him the prophecy. That brought silence to the room for a moment, but after its reading the place again exploded into chaos, as many of the gods and goddesses raised their voices to be heard above the clamor.

At last Odin raised his hands and his voice. “Silence,” he bellowed, and the hall quieted. “I would take private council with my grandson and this mortal. Leave me, all of you.”

There was much mumbling and grumbling but the others started to leave.

“And you Einherjar.” Odin swept his hand to indicate the spirits floating through the hall. “Go back to your feasting hall. Can’t you see you are frightening our guest?”

Suddenly the great hall was empty except for herself, Jord, and Odin. Meghan felt small in the presence of the King of the Norse Gods, but he smiled kindly at her.

“Forgive us, mortal. There is much fear in Asgaard these days and unless I am blustering and ranting at them, most of these fools would be wringing their hands in despair.”

Jord was all business. His brow crinkled as he confronted Odin. “Grandfather, is there no way to get her out of this?”

Odin shook his head. “Defying a prophecy is a slippery slope. It clearly states she will go to Svartalheim and Jotunheim. For your part I can see an out. It only says
a
son of thunder. That could be one of your brothers.”

Jord shook his head. “Magni and Modi are both away from Asgaard now, looking for father, and I am fully ready to undertake this, but it does seem a dangerous task for a mortal.”

Odin paused in thought, running an absent hand through his long beard. The two crows launched from his shoulder and circled his head.

“Is anywhere safe now? The giants openly attacked her on Midgaard and, with Fenrir on the march, it appears even Asgaard herself may no longer be a safe haven. Megingjörð must remain with us, in any case, and it has locked itself around her waist. The prophecy says you will both go to Svartalheim and Jotunheim. It does not state you will go together. I think it would be best if she went with you willingly, or she may well be taken there as a captive to fulfill the prophecy. You know how these things work.”

Jord paced back and forth in front of Odin’s great throne. “Could this be a false prophecy?”

Odin stood and the crows once again settled on his shoulder. His gaze turned to Meghan. “As to that, Megingjörð appear!”

Meghan felt the essence of the belt pulled from her. A sphere, like a mirrored ball, grew out of nothingness in the hall next to Odin.

“Whence came this prophecy, Megingjörð?” Odin demanded of the ball.

“I am not the prophet.” The belt’s voice filled the room and seemed to come from everywhere at once. “After I escaped the dark elves I felt compelled to seek out this mortal. I created a box around myself and transported to her library, something I’ve never found in my power to do before. After Meghan and I became one, the prophecy sought us out. It comes, I believe, as much from her as me. This is why I will not release her. I can feel the thread the Norns are weaving. My fate and hers seem irrevocably intertwined.”

Odin regarded Meghan. “Come here, girl. Let me see you. Do not be afraid.”

His one eye stared at her. She felt as if the god was looking through her, into her soul. A part of her was fascinated to be this close to the legendary Allfather of the gods. Another part of her wanted to run in terror.

“There is something about you,” Odin murmured, “something hidden even from me. I see strength in you, and resolve. I think, perhaps, this test is right for you. But you need to know what you are getting yourself into. I imagine Jord has told you next to nothing of the events here lately.”

“There really hasn’t been time.” Jord raised his hand in protest, but Odin merely waved him off.

“For thousands of years the evil wolf-god, Fenrir, has been held captive by Gleipnir, a magical rope. A little over six months ago, he escaped. The how and why are still unknown to us, even hidden from the mighty Heimdall. We do know it had to be one of us, an Asgaardian, that set the wolf free.”

Odin bowed his head.

“While most of us stayed here to search out the traitor amongst us, my son, Thor, and some of the other gods went to search for Fenrir. The others returned in time, finding no sign of the wolf-god, but Thor did not return to us. None have seen him these past six months.”

“I have!” The voice came from behind Meghan. She turned and saw a tall, redheaded man standing in the doorway. He was leaning slightly on the doorjamb. The man was dressed in what looked like fifth century, Nordic clothing, and armor, but it was torn and tattered, and he was bleeding from a dozen wounds.

“Modi!” Jord ran to the man and helped him to one of the benches in the hall.

Odin approached the newcomer. “I have sent for Idun. Grandson, what has befallen you?”

The man was breathing heavily. He looked worn; his strength spent. “Word reached me that Father was being held captive in the dark elf fortress at Nokkurra. So I went there and I found him. Lord Odin, he is fettered by Gleipnir, and they have taken Megingjörð, Járngreipr, and Mjolnir from him. Before I could reach him, I was overwhelmed. It was all I could do to fight my way out. But I will gather a force and return. I will rescue him.”

“You will do nothing of the kind, Modi.” The voice was Sif’s. She’d come into the hall unnoticed. With her stood a tall, stately woman.

The woman with Sif wore long, white robes, and had her head covered with a light blue scarf. In her hands she held a covered basket. Meghan watched as she knelt by Modi, and pulled a knife and an apple from the basket she carried. The apple was golden. Not yellow gold, but the true, metallic, gold color. She cut a slice from the apple and held it to Modi’s mouth. The man ate greedily of the fruit and Meghan was surprised to see his wounds start to close almost immediately.

Jord stepped next to Meghan and pulled her back, away from the man eating the apple slice.

She was close enough to Jord to whisper in his ear. “Who is he?”

Jord kept his voice low. “Modi is my older brother. He, my other brother Magni, and I have never stopped looking for Father these past six months. It appears Modi found him.”

It was then Modi seemed to notice Meghan. “A mortal? Here?”

Odin backed toward Jord and Meghan. “More than just a mortal, I think. This is Meghan Larson. She has brought us back Megingjörð.”

Modi’s eyes scanned down to Meghan’s waist and widened in wonder. Despite his surprise, Meghan could see he was spent.

It was Sif that intervened. “You are to bed and rest, young man. Your quest now passes to Jord.”

There was relief on Modi’s face as he looked up at Jord. “See me before you leave, little brother.” Sif ushered him out the door before he could say more.

Odin leveled his gaze on Jord “So it appears your quest starts in Svartalheim, as the prophecy foretold.

He turned to Meghan. “Will you accompany Jord into danger? The choice is still yours.”

Meghan took a moment to ponder what she knew, which wasn’t all that much.

“It doesn’t look like I have been given much of a choice at all.”

The other woman, Idun, approached, handing Jord two of the golden apples. “Take these, son of Thor, just in case.”

Jord glanced at Meghan, then quickly wrapped the apples in a cloth from Idun’s basket. Idun turned to Meghan.

“Have a care, mortal, not to taste or even touch the golden apples. For the gods they are immortality, but for mortals even the slightest touch brings death.”

Jord held the apples as far away from Meghan as he could. He seemed tense, anxious. “We’d best get going. If they know Modi escaped, they will probably move Father somewhere else. There will be only a short window of opportunity for us to use this new information.”

Meghan saw Jord taking charge. She gathered they would be heading into some danger, yet she felt safe.

Yes, Jord and I will protect you.
The belt’s voice in her head felt reassuring.

Odin raised his hands and his voice. “The blessing of the gods go with you, for what it’s worth in these dark days.”

Jord grabbed Meghan’s hand and led her from the great hall.

Sif was waiting for them by the fountain when they reached her home, a leather backpack in her hand. Meghan noticed the worry lines on the goddess’ face.

Sif handed Jord the backpack. “I’ve packed some food and supplies, things you might need.”

Jord placed the two golden apples, still in their wrapping, in the front pocket. His eyes sought Meghan’s. “Remember, don’t ever touch these.”

Sif pointed toward a staircase. “Modi said he would not sleep until you stopped to see him.”

Jord shouldered the pack and headed up the winding steps to the right of the fountain. He pulled Meghan with him. The touch of his hand on hers was gentle, yet firm. Meghan noted the way he held himself, his walk, the total package. He was powerful and confident. Add to that his incredibly sexy looks and magnetic personality. He looked like a god . . . well, he was one, so . . . yeah.

Meghan suddenly realized Jord was not just out of her league, he was a whole different sport. She’d really have to watch herself with this one.

They entered a room where Jord’s brother, Modi, sat up in bed, waiting for them. He seemed much better already, even the scars were starting to fade, but he still looked spent.

Modi smiled up a Jord. “Little brother.”

Jord shook his head. “Modi, you take too many chances.”

Modi chuckled. “Bah, I’m in more danger here, under Mother’s ministrations than I was in the deepest dark elf dungeon.”

“I heard that!” Sif’s voice floated up from down below.

Modi winked at Meghan. “See what I mean. You women and your sixth sense. I’d rather face a pack of wolves any day.”

Jord clapped his brother on the shoulder.

“It’s too bad I’m in such a hurry. Otherwise I would send word to Sigrid you are here recuperating.”

Meghan could see Jord’s concern under the jocular banter the two brothers exchanged.

“Don’t you dare, little brother.” Modi swiped a hand toward Jord, but then got serious. “Go find Dad. Bring him home.”

Jord nodded, his eyes stormy. “I will.”

Meghan hadn’t had any siblings. She wondered what it would be like. Jord and Modi seemed close.

Modi laid back in the bed, his exhaustion evident. “I know you will. But I also wanted you to be aware that Queen Rhunin is planning an assault on Nokkurra. She urged me to wait and go with them, and I should have, but I was in too much of a hurry to find Dad and refused their aid. Stupid, I know.”

Modi closed his eyes. Meghan could see his body relaxing.

Jord moved back from the bed to stand by Meghan. “Brave or stupid, you found him. I didn’t realize the dark elves were involved in this whole mess. They’ve been pretty quiet these past few decades.”

“It was more a hunch, but I had to check it out.” Modi’s voice becoming thick as sleep began to take him. “Don’t go it alone, Jord. The dark elves are amassing and readying for war. Go to the bright elves. Go to Alfheim first. The bright elves will help you free Dad, if he is still there. You know they owe you.”

“I’ll do that, Modi.” Jord’s visage brightened. “In fact, that solves a problem I’ve been having. I was going to try to rally a force to take with me here in Asgaard, but with the invasion coming I doubt many would follow me to Svartalheim.”

Modi forced an eye open. Meghan could tell he was struggling to keep awake. “The bright elves may already be there. I’m not sure what they were planning, but it could be helpful.”

“I’ll go check with Queen Rhunin. Now get some sleep. You’re pale as an Einherjar.” Jord raised his hand in farewell. “You’ll be needed in the coming days, no doubt. With Fenrir free, Grandfather will take some looking after as well.”

“That part of Ragnarok will not come to pass while I have any strength to stand against it. I . . .” Modi mumbled a few untelligable words, but never finished the thought as sleep finally overtook him.

Jord led Meghan out of the room. As they passed down the hall Meghan asked, “What did you mean when you said your grandfather would take some looking after as well? Isn’t Odin like, all powerful?”

Jord shook his head. “A part of the prophecy of Ragnarok is that Fenrir will kill Odin. Grandfather has long prepared for his end and is ready for it. The rest of us . . . are not.”

They came to the stairway that would bring them back down to the courtyard. Alabaster statues lined the marble stairs like soldiers at attention, but Meghan’s thoughts weren’t on the opulence of the mansion.

“Are these prophecies set in stone? How can you be so ruled by them?”

Light streamed into the courtyard from above, but Jord’s mood seemed dark.

“The older gods believe in the prophecy so fully, I’ve often wondered if that alone wouldn’t make it self-fulfilling. It is why Fenrir was trapped and imprisoned instead of being destroyed outright. They have always chosen to stave off the great prophecy of Ragnarok, instead of trying to undo it.”

He was pounding down the steps now. Meghan had to hurry to keep up.

“And what about our prophecy? Do you believe that?”

Jord stopped and turned to face her at the bottom of the steps. He sighed, but his mood seemed to lift as he gazed into her eyes.

“I don’t know. I have been arguing for years that we should not let prophecy rule us. My arguments tend to fall on deaf ears. In any case, prophecy or no, Grandfather is right in that there is no safe place for you here, or anywhere, as long as Megingjörð has its hold on you. And it would be convenient to have the belt on hand when I find father. He may be the only one who can make it release you.”

They crossed the courtyard and went through the great doors. As they stepped outside Meghan saw Sif again, this time standing by a golden chariot. Harnessed to the chariot were two goats. “You’d best take Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjostr.” Sif indicated the goats. “They’ll speed you along faster than that motorcycle of yours.”

Jord stepped up and began to scratch behind the ear of one of the goats. “Dad is so going to kill me if anything happens to them.”

Sif hugged her son. “Find him, and take care of your selves.”

Jord nodded and hugged his mother. “We will.”

Then Sif released Jord and turned to Meghan. The goddess radiated concern and care.

“Now, I would speak with you, Meghan Larson. Why you are involved in this, I can only speculate, but I would not send you out without some defenses of your own. We did not have much time, but the gods do have some gifts to help you along your way.”

She held up a hooded jacket. “This is Nordge. It appears as an ordinary jacket, but it will resist the cut of a sword, the point of an arrow, or even a bolt of Nornish magic. It will also keep you warm in the icy regions you seem to be heading toward. The god Freyr sent you this and his blessing.”

Meghan tried on the jacket and instantly she felt warm, even down to her toes.

“Tyr dropped off this.” Sif handed Meghan what appeared to be a small flashlight. The object had a handle with a switch, but there didn’t appear to be a light bulb on the end.

Sif smiled. “Click it.”

Meghan clicked the button on the handle and it began to expand into a three foot long club with metal spikes on the end.

Jord took a step back as Meghan gave the club an experimental swing. Sif nodded her approval. “That is Prudr, the justice bringer. Simply tap the end on the ground to change it back again.”

Meghan tapped the ground and again held the small flashlight-like device. What an amazing little thing it was. Even more amazing to her was how easily she’d accepted what it could do. Yesterday she would have questioned her own sanity. She slipped the weapon into her pocket.

“Lastly, from me, I give you this necklace.” Sif held up a beautiful gold chain, a large red stone rested in a gold setting at the end. “Jord can instruct you in how to use it.”

Sif then turned to her son and added, “I hope he will also instruct you in how not to use it.”

Meghan noted Jord turned a bit red under his mothers gaze. Sif smiled smugly.

“We’d better get going.” Jord hurriedly stepped up onto the chariot. “We can talk on the way.”