Chapter Twenty-one

Donata knocked hesitantly on Halfrida’s door. She’d been tempted to wait until Magnus got home from training, but today was Monday, and the last two big tests were Tuesday and Wednesday before Thanksgiving came around on Thursday, and he didn’t get home until late most nights . . . She had a feeling that if any more ghost-induced incidents were going to happen, they were likely to occur soon. Waiting just didn’t seem like a good idea. Even if Donata found Halfrida only marginally less intimidating than Odin himself.

The Lawspeaker opened the door and raised one eyebrow when she saw Donata standing there. The gray hair braided on top of her head looked like a crown, and her upright carriage and stern, hook-nosed face made her seem even more regal. Only the pink-and-purple-checked flannel shirt looked out of place, although Donata thought she pulled even that off well.

“Good morning,” Halfrida said. “To what do I owe this visit? Please tell me you have good news for me. After that meeting, I could certainly use some.” She gestured Donata inside and led her into a sunny sitting room decorated with animal heads and other hunting paraphernalia. Donata had no doubt that the Lawspeaker had taken down the trophies herself. Probably with her bare hands. Donata looked away from the glassy eyes and thought, not for the first time, that she would never fit in with the Ulfhednar, no matter how much she liked them.

Halfrida sat on a neat wooden chair, her hands folded on her lap and her expression composed. It was clear she was braced for more disappointment.

Perching on the edge of a matching seat, Donata handed the older woman the leather bag full of rune pieces. “Here,” she said, barely containing her smile. “A gift.”

“You brought me a gift?” Halfrida said, sounding puzzled.

“They aren’t a gift from me,” Donata said. “They’re from Odin.” Now she let out the grin she’d been holding back. “I just spoke to him.”

Halfrida’s eyes widened. “You—you spoke to Odin? You were able to summon him?” Tears of joy sprang into her eyes. “He has not abandoned us?”

“Not intentionally, no.” Donata explained the entire situation, ending with the promise that Odin would appear to the Ulfhednar at dusk.

The Lawspeaker closed her eyes for a moment, her spine sagging briefly before she straightened and took a deep breath. “My people will be most relieved,” she said. “I will send the word to gather at the meeting hall; I’m sure that everyone will come who is able.”

She looked down at the leather bag she held, spilling a few of the pieces out into one calloused palm. “These were simple wooden runes? It is hard to believe. And Odin assured you that they will protect the remaining Ulf candidates?”

Donata nodded.

“Then we must take them over immediately,” Halfrida said, rising decisively from her chair. “It is the rule that training should not be interrupted, but I will make an exception for this.” She handed the leather bag back to Donata. “Come, girl, you are the hero here. Let us show the others that neither Magnus nor I was a fool for allowing you to attempt to solve our problem.”

Donata followed her out of the house and down the street toward the practice hall. “You do realize that I have only resolved part of the crisis, right? I have reconnected you with Odin, which I know is important, and hopefully have found a way to keep any more of the Ulf contenders from getting injured—at least by surprise ghost appearances—before they can pass their final tests.”

She sent up a silent prayer that Magnus would pass. It meant so much to him, she couldn’t help but wish him success, even though it would end of any hope of a relationship between them.

“Those are no small achievements,” Halfrida said.

“They’re not,” Donata said. “But they don’t get us any closer to finding out who was behind the whole thing. Someone—or more than one someone—sent the ghosts deliberately to sabotage the trials, and also bribed Idunn to keep Odin distracted. I doubt that he or she or they will give up now. Even if they do, I’d really like to see them punished for the damage they’ve done.” You attacked my boyfriend; prepare to die.

“Agreed,” Halfrida said. “But for now, let us celebrate the positive. As Lawspeaker, I am responsible for my people’s well-being, both physical and mental. I have let them down of late and will be glad to take at least a day or two to enjoy feeling less inadequate.”

Donata’s jaw dropped. It had never occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling like a failure. “Here,” she said, thrusting the leather bag back at Halfrida. “You should give these to the Ulf candidates. They will trust them more coming from you anyway.”

When the older woman would have protested, Donata said with a smile, “Feel free to give me full credit. I can use all the help with this crowd that I can get.”

Halfrida nodded, her dignity firmly back in place. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “It is a pity that your engagement with Magnus Torvald is a sham. You would have made a good Ulfhednar. You know, for a Witch.”

The meeting hall was packed wall to wall with bodies, much as it had been for the Thing the other night. But the mood could not have been more different. Entire families clustered together, some with small children perched on their parents’ shoulders to keep them from being stepped on in the crowd. Donata purposely didn’t try to figure out which children belonged to whom. After all, the Ulfhednar were close-knit and practically one big family as it was. Nothing to report here, Mr. Moore.

Word had already spread that Donata had been responsible for contacting Odin, and while some of the townspeople were withholding judgment until their god actually appeared, many others were greeting her warmly and slapping her on the back. Magnus walked by her side, grinning broadly and wearing his new talisman on a chain around his neck. The other Ulf candidates either wore or carried theirs as well, although Donata still wondered if they might have refused them had Halfrida not been the one to hand them out.

Finally, as the sun slipped below the hills, Halfrida stepped to the fire pit and poured out a pitcher of mead at its edge. Lifting her arms wide, she cried out, “Odin, king of the gods, All-father who created the Ulfhednar back in the mists of time, your people have longed for your presence. Come to us now, we beseech you.”

A lofty figure walked from the back of the room, a head above even the tallest of the Ulfhednar, a wide-brimmed hat on his head, a cape swirling around his wide shoulders, and a staff held in one hand. Two ravens flew before him, parting the crowd like water.

“No need to beseech me, my children,” Odin boomed. “I am here, to give you all my blessing.”

Donata noticed he didn’t apologize for his disappearance, but in her experience, gods rarely did.

The Ulfhednar cheered, and shouted, “Odin! Odin! Odin!” until Donata was afraid the building would collapse around them like so much kindling.

Eventually they calmed down and Odin, having moved to stand next to Halfrida, gestured at the token Magnus wore. “I see you received my gifts,” he said. More cheering. “Step forward, those of you who wear them.”

The Ulf candidates all moved closer, Lora being helped up to the front by a supportive man Donata thought was probably her father. Most were a little pale at being this close to their god but stood proudly nonetheless.

Odin held out one hand, pointing at each one in turn. “You have my blessing, warriors. Stay strong. Fight well for your people. Make me proud.” All the talismans began to glow softly; even those that were tucked into pockets—or, in Lora’s case, her bra—could be seen through the clothing. Freddy wept unashamedly.

“You are my people,” Odin said in a slightly softer tone, which could still be heard in every corner of the room. “Know this—I would never abandon you. I created you so that someday your descendants could fight at my side in the battle of Ragnarok. I gifted you with the ability to channel the animal whose totem you were born under. You are the Ulfhednar and you are mine!”

With this proclamation, he and his ravens vanished in a bright light that left everyone in the room blinking.

Halfrida recovered first and thudded her staff on the floor to signal the end of the gathering. “Our god has returned to us, for which we are grateful beyond measure.” She stared meaningfully at Donata, although she didn’t say anything further about her part in things. It was Gimle. Everyone already knew.

“Our Ulf candidates are protected and will, I am certain, go on to triumph at their final tests. And on the night of the winter solstice, the people of Gimle will walk proudly before the gathering of the clans with the largest number of Ulf ever assembled from one town.”

The crowd cheered wildly.

“This Thanksgiving we will give thanks in truth, so go now to your homes and prepare. This is a good day.”

Donata clapped with the rest but couldn’t help but worry. She might have solved some of the Ulfhednar’s problems, but she still had to figure out what she was going to tell Clayton Moore to get him off her back, how she was going to stop the Major Anemoi from stalking her, and what the hell she was going to tell Magnus when she finally had the chance to drop the bomb on him that she was pregnant.

She thought maybe she’d wait and celebrate later. Probably much, much later.

That night the Torvald household was abuzz with talk of Odin, and Donata never had a moment alone with Magnus. The next two days he was gone before dawn, taking his last two tests, neither of which he was allowed to discuss with her. Apparently only the Ulf who took them knew what those tests were, so the candidates went in unprepared.

Whatever they were, they were obviously grueling and designed to push those who took them to the limit. By the time Magnus staggered in the door late on Wednesday night, his face was gaunt and his eyes dazed. His clothes were torn and bloodied, as if he’d fought some wild beast in a battle to the death. For all she knew, he had.

Despite his appearance, however, Magnus’s spirits were high—he’d passed all the tests and would be officially named as Ulf in a ceremony at the winter solstice gathering of clans. Jonah, Lita, Knud, Gunnar, Arvid, and Olaf had all passed as well, now that there were no further ghostly distractions, and when their numbers were added to those who passed the tests in other bear-clan towns and the already existing Ulf from previous years, it seemed likely that the Bear clan would again be the ones to choose a Chieftain for all the Ulfhednar.

Thanksgiving was likely to be a day of thanks in Gimle after all. Donata just wished she could be as excited as everyone else in the Torvald compound.

Astrid put some reheated dinner in front of Magnus, beaming proudly, and then left them in the kitchen together. He’d taken a quick shower but looked as though he might drop from exhaustion as soon as he finished shoveling the food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten for days. Not a good time to share her news. Tomorrow wasn’t looking good either, what with the massive Thanksgiving feast that started early and ran late. As with most Ulfhednar celebrations, it would be a shared event, with most of the town coming together instead of having smaller meals in their own homes.

Friday should be reasonably low-key as everyone recovered from their late-night revelry. She’d tell him then. Or maybe he’d still be too tired. Saturday might be better.

“Penny for them,” Magnus said, wiping his mouth and then setting the cloth napkin down on the table. He took a long swig from the mug of beer his mother had brought him along with the venison stew.

“What?” Donata hadn’t even seen him eat anything after the first few forkfuls.

“You seem very far away,” Magnus said. “So I offered you a penny for your thoughts.” He put one large, warm hand over hers. “Is something wrong?”

Lots of things, but nothing she could really discuss with him right now. Well, except for one topic, which they were going to have to broach soon enough anyway.

“I’m trying to decide if I should head back to the city,” she said, not untruthfully. She’d been pondering the question since the moment she’d handed the bag of rune stones to Halfrida.

His head went up, sleepy eyes suddenly wide open. “What? Why?”

Donata made a face at him. “I do have a life there, you know. An apartment, and a cat, and this little thing called a job I should get back to.”

Assuming she could even perform her duties before the end of her first trimester, which she wasn’t at all sure about, and assuming that calling up the ghosts of dead murder victims was safe for an unborn child. She had a lot of research to do, but she couldn’t do most of it from here. Just another reason to go home.

“The Chief told you not to come back until after Thanksgiving,” Magnus reminded her.

“Right,” she said. “And Thanksgiving is tomorrow.”

Magnus blinked, as though he had somehow lost track of the days. Probably he had, since most of his time lately had been spent in caves and trees and rivers, with all his attention focused on getting through the Ulf trials.

“So it is.” He was quiet for a minute. “But the Chief said to take at least that long. He didn’t say you had to go back right away. We’ve hardly had any time to spend together. My fault, I know, but I’m done with the training now.” He grinned at her through a scruffy four-day beard. “Besides, you’ve only solved some of the problems I brought you here to deal with. We still have to track down whoever is calling back the ghosts and make them stop.”

“For all we know, they have stopped,” Donata pointed out. “After all, no one has seen a manifestation since Odin gave you the protective amulets. Besides, now that you’re not so busy, I’m sure you can figure it out for yourself. You don’t need me anymore.”

Magnus gazed into her eyes. “Are you so sure of that, Donata?” Then he let out a huge yawn that he attempted in vain to cover up with his hand.

She laughed, trying not to show him that her heart was breaking. “Pretty sure, yeah,” she said. “Remember, my magic didn’t seem to help with the ghost issue anyway.”

He yawned again. “I can’t argue with you tonight; I’m too tired to even form coherent sentences. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she said, getting up to put his plate and mug in the sink. “I haven’t made any decisions. I’m just thinking about things.”

Magnus stood up from the table. “You think too much, ’Nata. I always said so.”

“And you don’t think enough,” she said with a smile. It had been one of their old arguments, often repeated. “Always jumping in with both feet before considering all the ramifications.” She shoved him in the direction of the doorway. “I suggest you jump into bed now, before you fall over.”

He gave her a tired grin. “Good idea. Are you going to jump with me?”

She wished.

“And have you fall asleep before I’ve even pulled the covers up? I don’t think so.” She gave him another push. It was like trying to move a sequoia.

He gazed down at her, serious for once. “Don’t be gone when I wake up in the morning,” he said.

“I won’t be. Your mother has already given me a list of things she wants me to help with tomorrow.”

“Okay, good. Night, babe.” He kissed her on the forehead and stumbled out of the room.

But I’m not making any promises for the day after tomorrow.