Chapter 13

 

Spanning out from where the neck of the giantess should have been were hundreds of limbs and branches, and instead of leaves, there grew clumps of what appeared to be grayish-green hair. Dangling from the branches, like overripe fruit ready to drop, were female faces of every description: crones, children, mothers, maidens, but what they all had in common was the penetrating hatred blazing red in all their eyes. David was not about to start counting, but he did not doubt for a second that there were 900 heads, all glaring right at him.

“How dare you raise your voice in my house!” the giantess thundered with all her voices at the tiny intruders in her palm. “I did not give you permission to intrude in my home!”

David could understand now why Tyr was so terrified of this…woman?...but also why he braved to live in the same house with her. Even Fenrir would think twice about intruding here in his weakened state, if he knew about Tyr’s grandmother.

Tyr was clinging onto her thumb, and he hoisted himself up onto her palm next to David, Acacia and the comatose Tanuki. He stood tall and steady, but there was a quiver in his speech. “M-m-mor mor, these are friends of mine. They are unused to our ways. They intend no harm. Please, release them and I will take them somewhere else to finish our talk.”

“What is in my house belongs to me,” Tyr’s grandmother bellowed. “They will not leave unless I permit them to. We could always use more servants, ever since your father and his friends squashed the last ones.”

“Accident,” Tyr whispered to David and Acacia. “Giants are notoriously clumsy.”

Acacia, despite being shaken by the giantess, cleared her throat and stood her ground. “I apologize for disturbing you, oh Great Mistress of this Hall. But we cannot stay. Millions of lives are in danger from the one called Fenrir, who would destroy this world and all worlds. We need your grandson’s help to capture him, so we must be on our way, if you will be so kind as to give us leave. Surely you understand the urgency of this matter.”

“Do not impugn my ‘understanding’ of your meaningless problem,” retorted Tyr’s grandmother, speaking through the mouths of a hundred middle-aged heads. “What care I about millions of lives I know not? I have always been here, and I will continue to always be here. I do not fear the children of Loki, not the wolf or the serpent or any of them. I am as timeless as the World Tree. I will do as I please, and I will do as I please with you and your company.”

“That’s telling them!” Baba Yaga cackled as she finally arrived, hobbling over to stand at the feet of Tyr’s grandmother. Baba kicked at one of the long, twisting toes that mimicked a knotted tree root. “These children, think they can go doing whatever they please, right? No respect for us old folk and all we’ve had to endure.”

Tyr’s grandmother leaned her heads forwards to look down, the branches swaying. “Who is down there? I did not hear anyone else in the other room.”

“Because I know better than to blabber my head off without proper introduction,” Baba shouted up. “Would you be so courteous as to give me lift, so I don’t have to shout? My voice gives out faster than it used to.”

Tyr’s grandmother reached down with her free hand, scooping up Baba and raising her up to be on level with her other hand. Baba steadied herself on the giantess’s open palm. “Much better. I am known as Baba Yaga, Keeper of the Iron Forest. Always people getting lost in my forest. Unwanted guests, such a bother. Not that I get many visitors. Not even my bratty grandson comes to see me!” She gestured towards David. “Look at him, such fine clothes, the elite of society, but does he care for his old grandmother? Ha!”

David opened his mouth to say something, but then he shut it. What on earth was she up to?

“This is your grandson?” Tyr’s grandmother raised her hand higher until dozens of her faces were within a yard of David, scrutinizing him.

“You wouldn’t know it, from the way he treats me,” Baba groused. “What is it with grandchildren, eh? No manners these days.”

Tyr’s grandmother let out simultaneous sighs from all of her heads. “I know! Back in my days, we knew how to treat our elders. Now this one…” Her eyes turned to Tyr. “Always complaining, ‘but I have to go fight the Frost giants,’ or ‘the Dark elves are causing trouble,’ or ‘my honor’ this, ‘my duty’ that. Too busy to listen to Mor mor!”

David and Tyr side-glanced at each other. Acacia wiped a paw down her face. Tanuki twitched in his unconsciousness.

“All I know is I raised my children properly,” Baba said. “Something got lost between our children’s generation and their children’s. It’s not our fault!”

“Valhalla, no!” Tyr’s grandmother agreed. “I blame that no account son of mine, for my little Tyr’s aloofness. Always with his scatterbrained ideas, his parties, his drinking! So obsessed with those brewing pots! He cared more about those bottomless cauldrons and all the ale they could brew than his own flesh and blood! Is it any wonder his son is such a soft brain too? Mighty warrior, peh!”

Tyr looked away, scratching his nose absent-mindedly. But David, meanwhile, was starting to brew an idea. He remembered Hymir and his odd cooking pot, the one that magically produced ale. Hadn’t he said something about having a much grander one, that was a mile deep? That one, he had said, was now owned by his son. David looked over at Tyr. A cauldron that was a mile deep…could it hold something other than ale? Could something be put into it, rather than come out of it? David was about to ask Tyr about this, when the hand they were standing on shifted abruptly and they all toppled over.

“Oh, poor Hymir! Where did I go wrong?” wailed the 900 heads of Tyr’s grandmother.

“Now, now, no need to get upset,” Baba said, patting the giantess’s thumb. “When was the last time you had a nice, warm cup of tea? I make the best tea in Russia, and I think I have my freshest herbs with me, if you would like to split a pot.”

The 900 heads sniffled, but then all of them smiled. “I can’t think of the last time we had tea. It’s always ale and mead around here. Yes, tea would be wonderful.”

Baba nodded. “Then how about you and I enjoy a cup—or two, or a hundred—while the children go tidy up your main room? Let the young ones do the chores around here, I say.”

Tyr’s grandmother slowly lowered both of her hands to the floor, allowing everyone to disembark (although David had to carry Tanuki, who remained incapacitated). In the doorway stood the tall golden-haired woman, her face creased with concern. David understood now that the woman must be Tyr’s mother; there was enough resemblance between the two to see it.

“My dear, would you show me where your tea kettle is?” Baba said to Tyr’s mother. “We would like to make some tea.”

Tyr’s mother nodded with a smile, and led Baba back into the other room to gather what she needed. Everyone else followed, not daring to glance behind them.

“That was clever thinking from your friend,” Acacia said to David. “Makes me think I’m losing my touch.”

“Baba has that effect on people,” David said. “She even won Gullin over in no time, and he’s wary of witches. Besides, that doesn’t make you less clever. If it were a riddle contest…”

The sphinx stood up on her hind legs, as she often did, as she was a comfortable on two legs as on four. “Oh, is that all I’m good for? Riddles?” She shot him a sharp look.

David blanched. “No, of course not! I was trying to say—”

Acacia laughed, pushing David’s shoulder with her paw. “You’re still so innocent, David! Here I thought married life might have hardened you up.”

David grinned. “Trust me, Florence does a good enough job keeping me in line.”

The sphinx’s smile dropped. She did not look sad or angry, but she tightened her lips and was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure she does,” she eventually replied.

The badger began to squirm in David’s arms. He fluttered his eyes open. “Oh, David, Acacia. I had another bad dream! This one, there was this giant scary lady with lots and lots of heads…”

“It’s all right, Tanuki,” Acacia assured him. “But let’s all remember to keep our voices down, all right?”

Tanuki nodded, but then the meaning of Acacia’s warning sunk in, and he snapped his head around, looking everywhere. He scrambled up onto David’s shoulder, watching the door where the monstrous hand had appeared.

“Settle down,” David said. “She really not as bad as all that.”

“Ha!” Tyr slapped his hand over his mouth, surprised that his laugh has slipped out. He lowered his voice. “Pardon me. But you have no idea what Mor mor is capable of. The fact that we all got out of there unscathed is…maybe the first time that’s ever happened.”

David began rummaging through the artifacts scattered on the floor. “Tyr, your father told me that you might have a magical cauldron that you won from him in a bet, a pot that is a mile deep. Do you still have that?”

Tyr blinked in surprise. “My father’s prized brewing cauldron? Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

“Tell me about it. Does it only brew, or can it do other things?”

The warrior stroked his beard. “To tell the truth, I never tested its power much. I won it from my father because the other Aesir had run out of ale, and I knew that cauldron would provide everyone with enough drink for the rest of time. But once we brewed what we needed and bottled it all up in the Asgardian cellars, I haven’t used the cauldron since.”

“Is it here?” David picked up one ornate silver bowl, looking it over, and then putting it off to the side.

Tyr glanced around the caliginous cluttered hall. “It very well could be. I think I regifted it to Mother for her birthday, but I can’t remember.”

“Not as if you could possibly find anything in this mess,” Acacia noted. “This is worse that Pharaoh Tutankhamen’s tomb in Egypt. Not that I know what his tomb looks like.” She darted her eyes away, and then looked back. “You would have to pick around this place for days to find anything.”

David drew out his sword. “Not necessarily. Hopefully this still works.” He held the sword by the hilt, blade pointed downwards, and tapped it on the floor three times.

The items in the hall all scooted a few inches one way or the other, and then paused.

“How did you do that?” Tanuki asked.

Acacia sniffed at David’s sword. “I always thought this sword smelled odd. I thought any magic it had was dormant. No one else I’ve seen wield it could make it do anything of the magic sort.”

David tapped the sword on the floor again. The artifacts shifted, but not much.

“I don’t understand. When I did this at Baba’s house, all her things went to their shelves and cupboards immediately,” he said.

Tyr put a hand on David’s shoulder. “Little household trinkets are always willing to listen and comply. But these are the remnants of great Viking fighters. They take orders from those who command leadership and courage. You have to give them a reason to follow your order.”

David held his sword in both hands, the flat of the blade resting on his palms. “Then maybe you should use this.”

Tyr held up his hand, shaking his head. “If you were not meant to wield this sword, the remnants would not have moved at all for you. They want to listen to you. Give them a reason. Show them who you truly are.”

Who I truly am? How can I do that when I’m not sure who I am? David thought. He gripped the hilt of the sword in both hands, blade pointing out towards the objects. He took a deep breath. “I am David Sandoval of Cervera. I have outwitted the Teumessian… passed the test of the White Buffalo… survived the World-Devouring Wolf… I am Guardian of the Last Sphinx, Ally of the Most Divine Being in Kyoto, and I have stood against the will of the Night Goddess. I strive to bring Order to Chaos, and…” He paused, thinking. “…and Hope to those who despair. May the cauldron I seek present itself, so I may fulfill my quest. May all that surrounds me be brought to its proper place, this I command you!”

Silence.

David shrugged his shoulders. “Please?”

The room sprang into a whirlwind of motion as all the artifacts started to roll, bounce, and float around the hall. Shields found their hanging hooks on the walls, helmets made their way to sit aligned on shelves, and stray weapons and battle gear slid into place along upright racks. Cobwebs and dust were shaken away, and rugs unrolled themselves to blanket the floor. In one minute, the hall was a clean and shining paradigm of orderliness.

“There is a reason they call ‘please’ a magic word,” Tyr said.

“That is all well and good,” Acacia said, “but where’s the pot we were looking for?”

A rumbling sound was heard, and an iron pot, no bigger than a tea kettle, came rolling out of the adjoining room where Tyr’s grandmother was. It sloshed hot tea on the floor as it rolled, and it teetered to a stop at David’s feet.

Baba shuffled in, holding a teacup in her hand. “What is the idea, calling our tea kettle away? You have to make us a new pot, you know.”

Tyr slapped his hand to his forehead. “I knew I had re-gifted it to Mother! She must have thought it was a tea kettle, but she doesn’t make tea very often.”

Baba shook her head, sipping her tea. “Bah, that made the tea taste too metallic, anyway. But good news. I have been talking to your grandmother, Tyr—lovely lady— and I told her it would be a good idea for you to go with David and the sphinx to capture big Wolf. It will teach you to keep your responsibilities and toughen you up. Plus, it will help you build character.”

Tyr’s jaw dropped open to his chest. “You…told my Mor mor…what?”

“And she would like you to bring back nice wolf fur coat. She always wanted a nice warm coat, but no animal is big enough to make a coat her size. But I said, Wolf is plenty big. Could make coat and nice pair of slippers.”

Tyr’s face reddened to the hue of a tomato. “She wants me to WHAT??”

Nine hundred voices boomed from the other room. “Do not raise your voice in this house! I have decided you will go, so you will go! NOW!”

In two swift motions, Tyr wrapped one arm around David and Tanuki, and the other arm around Baba. Acacia grabbed the iron pot and flew behind Tyr as they made a frantic dash out the front door of the Main Hall. Tyr’s mother was already waiting outside with Slepnir beside her. Without breaking stride, Tyr bounded up and straight onto Slepnir’s back, and the horse took off running down the hill, the flying sphinx close behind them.

“Do remember to visit more often, son!” Tyr’s mother called, waving goodbye. “I’m so glad you finally have friends to bring over to the house!”

      “So, why did you want this thing?” Acacia asked, turning the iron pot over in her paws.

The camp they had built was a simple one, but they were well guarded by the titanic trees of the forest. Tyr had started a good bonfire, even with missing a hand, and Tanuki scuttled here and there to gather twigs and grasses for kindling. Baba had found a stump twenty feet away from the camp, and she sat on it, trying to smoke her pipe. She hacked every now and then but managed to lightly puff on it. David wished she wouldn’t be so far from the camp, but she had said she needed some time to think.

“I had a thought,” David replied to Acacia. “If that pot can go a mile deep, it could hold something really big, right? If it can brew as much ale as anyone could possibly want, then it must defy physical space and dimension, I would think anything put into it wouldn’t be able to break out of it. It would be like tumbling through a void, right?”

Acacia looked puzzled at David’s analysis, but then it dawned on her. “Wait, you’re not thinking of…capturing Fenrir in this pot, are you? Even if something can be put inside of it, he would never fit through this small brim!”

Tyr scratched his chin. “Now, hold on. There’s one thing I know that pot can do.” He came over, taking the pot from Acacia. He placed it down on the ground, and started to pull at its mouth. David worried that Tyr was going to crack the pot, but gradually the pot began to expand, as Tyr pulled it wide like taffy. Eventually, he could not pull it any wider or taller, but the cauldron was six times bigger than it had been.

“But it is still too small of an opening for Fenrir,” Acacia pointed out.

David thought for a minute. “Wait, Fenrir changes size too! He was big enough one day to swallow a whole house, but the next he was small enough to fit inside a stable. His size depends on how strong he is. If we can wear him down enough, could he become small enough to catch him in that pot?”

“It’s possible,” Tyr admitted. “But that would take a lot of wearing him down.”

“First, we need to test if it will actually take in something and keep it there,” Acacia said.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Tanuki said. He picked up a rock from the fire pit, and brought it over. He tossed it into the pot.

Everyone looked inside. There was blackness, as far as anyone could tell. They never heard the sound of the rock hitting a bottom. Tyr picked up the pot and flipped it over, shaking it, but the rock did not come back.

“But would that work on a living thing?” David asked. “What would keep Fenrir from jumping back out again?”

“Simple. Once he’s inside, just pull the pot back to small size again. Maybe you could even pull the rims together to seal it,” Tanuki said.

Tyr smiled at the badger. “You are as wise as you said,” he said, using one finger to ruffle the fur on Tanuki’s head.

“But could Fenrir break the pot open, once he is inside?” Acacia asked.

David, Acacia and Tyr looked at Tanuki.

“What? I’m supposed to answer everything now? That’s the burden of being a Divine Being, I suppose.” The badger scratched his head. “How about this. I’ll go inside, and I’ll transform into the biggest thing I can, and see if I can break out.”

David shook his head. “No, you could get stuck inside and not come back out!”

The badger thought on this. “Tie a rope around me and pull me back out once I tug on it. It’ll be like eel fishing.”

“Plus, if he can break the pot from the inside, then it’s no good to us anyway,” Acacia said.

David paused. He felt like they were making assumptions about this pot that may or may not be true. What if Tanuki went in, even with a rope, but all they pulled back out was a severed rope? What if whatever went into the pot didn’t get trapped, but disappeared entirely? Tyr didn’t seem to know much more about how this worked than the rest of them. Maybe if they were able to keep Tanuki in view, lower him in a few feet or so, it would be enough to test their theory.

“No one will force you to do this, Tanuki,” David said. “But we’ll let you down inside a few feet so you stay in view. You should be able to test the pot’s durability without having to go in too far.”

Tanuki gave him a big beaming smile. “You worry too much, David-san. I am your spirit guide, remember? You are stuck with me, whether you like it or not!”

Tyr had a rope around his waist that he was using for a belt, so he removed it and tied one end around Tanuki’s middle. Tyr dangled Tanuki off the ground, and slowly lowered him into the iron pot. Letting the rope slide through his calloused hands, Tyr let down the badger one meter, then two, until Tanuki was a foot away from being out of visible range.

“Stop there,” David said, and Tyr grasped the rope tightly to halt Tanuki’s descent. “Tanuki, are you all right?”

“Of course,” the badger called back, his voice already sounding distant. “It’s strange in here. I think I can hear the ocean! And it smells like cucumbers.”

“Be careful. Try changing size and see what happens.”

There was a pause. David thought he could see Tanuki wriggling at the end of the rope, and then the rope started swinging. Tyr tried to control it as the rope smacked the sides of the rim of the pot. As Tanuki swung, he flashed in and out of the visible light, diving in and out of shadow.

“Tanuki, stop swinging the rope!” Acacia called down.       

There was a frightened, urgent chittering coming from inside the pot. Amidst the squeaking and squealing, they heard the words, “Wrong! Up! Something—wrong!”

Immediately, Tyr yanked the rope, and in a flying catapult out of the pot, Tanuki soared upwards. David’s heart rapped wildly as he saw Tanuki tumbling back down, not turning into a feather or a bird as he normally would to slow down a fall. Acacia pounced up, catching Tanuki in mid-air, and then gently floated them back down to the ground.

The badger was shaking all over, his eyes so wide that they could see the rims of white around the black irises.

“What happened in there?” David asked. “Could you not transform while inside the pot?”

Tanuki looked down at his forepaws, as if the answer might be there. He squeezed his eyes tight for ten seconds, and then opened them again.

“No, I…I can’t change at all!” he squealed.

All was quiet for a long time after that. Tanuki lay curled up in David’s lap, his face covered by his paws. Acacia went out to the nearby sea to catch fish for dinner, while Tyr was sharpening branches with a whittling knife so they could cook them when she returned. David did not know what to say or do. He was glad that Tanuki had not been hurt while testing the pot, and at least they knew for sure a living animal could be put in the pot. But was it the pot that had caused Tanuki to lose his shape-shifting ability…or was the Curtain continuing to fall apart, and now it had affected Tanuki as it had Baba?

“David?” Tanuki’s voice was small, nearly a whisper.

“Yes?”

“I lied before.”

David furrowed his brow. “About what?”

“I said I thought I liked mead even more than sake. But I don’t. I like sake best. I love sake.”

David did not quite understand what Tanuki was talking about, or why his drink preference was so important. But then Tanuki looked up at him, tears streaming down his furry nose, and David understood.

“You miss Yofune,” David said.

Tanuki sat up, leaning back against David’s stomach. “While I was in the pot, hearing the ocean, and smelling cucumbers, it made me think about how Yofune and Kappa and I would sometimes go to the beach in Suma in the summertime. We would disguise ourselves as humans, of course, and I’d carry Kappa in a basket along with fresh cucumbers, carrots and bamboo. I think Master Yofune would have rather stayed at home, but he knew Kappa and I liked the beach. Maybe when this is all over—this wolf business—maybe I can dig a burrow there. Would you come visit me if I do that, David-san?”

David patted Tanuki on the head. “You could come live in Paris, if you’d like. There’s a nice public garden not too far from where we live where you could dig a burrow, or maybe I could convince Florence to let us have a badger in the house. Or once you get your shape-shifting back, you could pretend to be a cat. I think Florence likes cats.”

“What if I can’t shape-shift ever again? Will you still be my friend?”

David scratched Tanuki behind the ear. “Of course. You’re my spirit guide. You’re stuck with me as much as I am stuck with you.”

Through the trees, the back end of Acacia emerged as she tugged and dragged something large through the grass, a pungent fish smell filling the air. She struggled to bring a shimmering blue-green fish, as long and wide as a shark, that she had caught into the circle of the camp. Tyr came over to help, hoisting the fish by its tail with no effort, and he set about skinning and gutting it near the fire.

Acacia sat down next to David, panting. She was soaked in sea water. “That was not an easy one to catch. Takes me back to catching crocodiles in the Nile.”

“But you’re a Grecian sphinx,” David asked, feeling a little silly that he should know this about Acacia. “You keep talking about things in Egypt.”

Acacia shook the water out of her mane. “When my mother was exiled from the city of Thebes by King Oedipus, she escaped to Egypt where she had heard about a tribe of lion-men living in the desert. She found them and they accepted her into their lot, so most of my earliest sphinx-hood I spent in the tribe. It wasn’t until I was older that I returned to Greece to learn about our original home.”

“There’s so much I don’t know about you,” David said.

Acacia smirked. “We sphinxes are enigmatic. But there’s much about me you wouldn’t want to know.” She let out a yawn. “Although, I meant what I said the first time we dream-talked together. I would like to know more about you, what you’re willing to tell me.”

David chuckled. “There isn’t much to tell. Eighteen years is like a single breath in your lifespan.”

“Then it will be easy for me to remember it all.”

They both could feel eyes watching them, and both David and Acacia looked over at Tyr. He was sitting with his chin in his hand, grinning at them as one might at a pair of cuddling lovebirds.

“You two remind me of Thor and Sif,” he said. “I always wished everyone would find their soulmate the way those two found each other.”

Acacia bleated a laugh that was neither happy nor humorous. If anything, it sounded angry. “We are not soulmates. We are friends. That’s it.”

“Oh. Forgive me.” Tyr tore a piece of meat from the gutted fish and jammed it onto one of his sharpened sticks. He started roasting it over the fire. “Should be a few minutes to cook.”

Acacia went over to the fish, sliced off a piece with her claws, and brought it back over to her spot next to David. She ate the fish raw, her feline fangs tearing into the meat ravenously. She held out a piece to David.

“I’ll wait for Tyr to finish cooking that piece,” David said, waving the fish away.

“I’ll have it!” Tanuki bounced up and snatched the meat from Acacia’s claws, and nibbled away on it.

“Baba, do you want dinner?” David called out to her, but the old woman remained fixed on her stump, not replying.

“She’ll come over when she’s hungry,” Acacia said after swallowing another mouthful. “You take care of yourself, David.”

David yawned, his eyelids dipping down. The weight of the long day was seeping into his bones. “I’m not very hungry. But I’m really, really…” He snapped to attention, sitting up urgently, causing Tanuki to roll forwards off of his lap.

“What is it?” Acacia asked.

David rubbed his eyes. “It’s…I don’t know if it would be a good idea to go to sleep. Nico…”

Acacia swallowed the last bite of her fish. “Nico is good at frightening others, but he’s a coward. Besides, he can’t really hurt you in your dreams. If he comes into your dreams tonight, we’ll show him a thing or two.”

“We?”

Acacia unfolded her wing and put it around David’s shoulder. “We’re together now. Even without Hypnos, we know where we are, so I can be with you in your dream. There’s nothing Nico can do in a dream that I can’t best him. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

“I don’t want him to do something that will damage your mind, Acacia! Why don’t we sleep in shifts, so if it looks like one of us is distressed while sleeping, the other can wake them up?”

“Then we’ll just keep waking each other up all night long, and no one gets any sleep. No, we need to stop this now. It’s not only us Nico might be affecting, David. What about Gullin and his family?”

David had forgotten about that. Nico could have access to anyone in the Sleep realm. What if he was manipulating Gullin’s dreams right now? Or Beatrice, or even little Ian?

“I’ll stay awake and watch you both,” Tanuki said. “If you start acting funny, I’ll wake you up.”

“And I’ll keep watch on the camp,” Tyr said. “Eyes on all fronts. I never need much sleep.”

Acacia folded up her wing, settling down on all four legs, resting her head on her forepaws. “You can lay your head on my wings, David. Better than lying down on the hard ground.”

David leaned his body over and tentatively placed his head on Acacia’s violet-black wings. Her feathers were so soft and warm, and she smelled of lilacs.

“Are you ready?” the sphinx said with a heavy tone, as she was already slipping off into slumber.

David did not answer, as weariness took hold of him in seconds. His final thought, before drifting off, was, We’re together now. I’ll protect you.

 

The snarling, seething voice was burning in David’s ears.

I was wondering how long it would take you two to fall asleep. It’s rude to keep one waiting, you know. But it will have been worth the wait. How much more fun this will be, to make you and my cousin suffer together…