Beyla, servant to Frey, God of the Elves, lifted her skirts and began to run, her broad feet pounding on the stone floor as she crossed the hall to the vaulted temple where the assembled gods and goddesses were seated in a circle of thrones.
Behind the high gods, the Valkyrie stood watch in their gilded armor and golden breastplates. Queen Frigga sat on the highest throne, as befitted Odin’s wife. On her right sat Iduna, the gentle Goddess of Youth. To her left, her son Bragi, God of Poetry and Mirth, stroked his lyre softly. Beyla sought out the eye of her master. She flushed with embarrassment as all turned to stare at her abrupt intrusion.
Geela drew her sword and stood in front of her, barring her way.
“What business do you have here, woman?” she demanded.
“Let her pass,” Frey said, rising from his seat to peer at her. “Dear Beyla, what brings you running? Has something come to pass?”
Beyla curtsied at him, then at Frigga and the rest of the gods. “Yes, your godship, something terrible has happened.”
“What is it, woman?” Frigga demanded irritably. “We are in the midst of an important conversation.”
“It’s gone. Gone, your lordship.”
“What’s gone?” Frey asked, coming to her side and gently taking her arm. “No harm will come to you; speak freely.”
She flushed with shame. “Your little ship, sire, the one you keep next to your bed.”
“Skidbladnir?” His hand flew to cover his shocked gasp.
The gods murmured and rustled about in their seats. Geela frowned. How could someone steal from the gods here in Valhalla? It was unheard of.
“I went in to clean, like I always do,” Beyla said, twisting her apron between her rough hands. “Dusting the table and the dresser and the odd trinkets you have. And that’s when I noticed the ship was gone. I looked under the bed and in every corner, but there’s no sign of it.”
Tyr, the one-handed Son of Odin and God of War, leapt to his feet. “It must be the work of Loki. No other has the power to enter this world and steal from us.”
“We must find him, bind him, and unwind him,” the poet Bragi said, striking a harsh chord on his lyre.
“Cut him to pieces and bury the parts in the four corners of the earth,” Thor added, gripping his mighty hammer.
Frigga rammed the staff she held into the ground. “Silence! Loki has not been anywhere near Valhalla. I would smell his evil stench in these halls.”
A woman with pale milky eyes stood. Vor, Goddess of Wisdom, moved into the circle and waved her arm. “Let us see where Skidbladnir is.” The floor beneath her was solid stone, but the moment she stepped on it, the gray stones disappeared and became a scenery of clouds. The servant, Beyla, fainted cold. Geela snapped her fingers, and two Valkyrie hauled her away.
The clouds parted and shifted to show a night sky shining on the sea. Far below, a ship could be seen sailing across the ocean. The view zoomed closer, and the gods leaned in, giving a collective gasp as they recognized who was at the helm.
Tyr shouted, jumping to his feet. “It is that witch-boy. The one who killed Father. I will go after him and cut his thieving murdering heart out.”
Frigga seemed unconcerned. “Calm yourself, Tyr. I have no idea how the boy came into possession of Skidbladnir, but, I assure you, he will be punished for his crimes.”
Vor turned to face the goddess. “Your highness, surely the boy is not to blame for Odin’s demise. He was bespelled under the power of the Volgrim witches. He did not understand what he did.”
“That is no excuse,” Frigga thundered. “He took Odin’s life with that cursed blade of Rubicus. He must be made to pay. I have sent him into the underworld to face Helva. If Odin is there, and the boy can free him, then he will be redeemed. If he fails, Helva will see that he suffers for eternity.”
Several of the gods thumped their feet in agreement, but Vor held her hand up for silence.
“Would Odin have let a mere boy end his reign after thousands of years? Have none of you questioned how this boy could get close enough to cause harm to Odin? Perhaps he is nothing more than a pawn in Odin’s great plan.”
The gods began shouting and arguing, but Vor waved her hand, and the image disappeared, returning to solid stone. “You are wise, Frigga, and compassionate. Sam is a Son of Odin, a descendent of Baldur, your most precious son. He has a good heart. He has chosen the right path.”
“Too late!” Frigga thundered. “Odin trusted him, just like he trusted Loki. Loki was blood brother to my husband, and look how he betrayed him. He killed my dear Baldur, and for that he was cursed to an eternity of suffering, which only ended with this boy’s friend interfering.”
Vor turned in a circle to address the gods’ council. “All know the story of Loki, the lost boy Odin found one day and brought back here. They formed a bond, a brotherhood forged in a blood oath they shared. None know why Odin took Loki in. Only Odin. Yes, Loki is trouble. Full of mischief.” She turned to face the queen. “And, yes, he was at fault for Baldur’s death. But who set apart Baldur with such power to be immune from death? Who challenged the fates that one might be so much more blessed than any other?”
“You dare criticize me?” Frigga demanded, her face a mottled red.
Vor demurred. “No, my queen, I seek only to remind you that giving Baldur such invincibility was a challenge to someone like Loki. He has been punished greatly for his bad deed.”
“I will never forgive Loki for taking my son,” Frigga said bitterly. “And this Barconian boy is no different. Mischief, you call it? Destruction and chaos, say I. Since Loki was released, the veil sealing off the Eighth Realm from us is torn. Even now, our greatest enemy, Surt, gathers his army of fire giants to invade Orkney and destroy the very people Odin spent his lifetime protecting. If Surt succeeds, what will stop that red monster from coming here?”
The assembled group gasped.
Frigga left her throne to stand in the center of the circle next to Vor, turning to look at each god as she spoke. “You all know the Ninth Realm is like a house with many rooms. When Surt enters Orkney, he will be worming his way into our home like vermin. If he is not stopped, we will have no choice but to destroy Orkney.”
“No!” Vor said, her hand going to her throat. “Odin would never allow it.”
“Odin is lost to us. Destroying Orkney will be the only way to protect Valhalla,” Frigga said coldly.
“If there is a chance to bring Odin back, we should help the boy, not condemn him to certain death,” Vor argued. “Alone, he will surely perish. Send a battalion of Valkyrie to assist him.”
Frigga glared at Vor, and then her face fell as the lines deepened around her eyes. “In my heart, I know Odin is gone. He has been lost before, but I could always feel him here,” she laid a hand on her chest. “But now it is like an empty vessel. I did the boy a mercy sending him to Helva rather than face this court.” She sat up straighter. “But you are wise, Vor.” She turned to Geela. “You will go after the boy and assist him on his quest. If he gives you any reason to doubt his purpose, end his life.”
The Valkyrie bowed low, but before she could move away, Frigga rose.
“We must come to a decision,” she said to the council of gods. “If it appears Orkney will fall to Surt, we destroy it. Are we in agreement?”
The gods and goddesses hesitated, and then, as one, they raised their right hands, signaling yes—all except for Vor.
Geela returned to her simple quarters and prepared her armor. A soft knock sounded at the door, and a pale figure entered. Vor stood in the doorway.
Geela always felt awkward around the pale woman, as if the wise goddess could read her thoughts, see into her soul.
“Come in, my lady Vor. What can I do for you?” Geela asked steadily, biting back her nerves.
“Beware, Geela, for you are being sent on a perilous mission.”
“The boy is dangerous?” Geela asked, blood zinging at the thought of a challenge.
Vor frowned, shaking her head. “The boy is no danger to you, but the journey will be hard. You must ensure no harm comes to the boy.”
It was Geela’s turn to frown, pulling her arm away. “I take orders from my queen, Frigga, and only my queen.”
“The queen does not understand what is at stake,” Vor said with a fierceness Geela had never before heard from the gentle goddess. “Grief blinds her to the truth, or she would see what I do.”
“And what is that?” Geela said.
“That the boy is being used for some purpose. That he is in extreme danger.” Vor moved away, then paused at the door, adding, “Hear me, Geela, he must complete his tasks, no matter how contrary they seem. He must complete them.”