Sleipnir

—Or was my overloaded brain just imagining the movement in those carvings?

Reason reasserted itself. The walls would've needed to be miles thick, or they'd have been carved to matchsticks by now. Unless, of course, the building itself was growing, like the tree arching above it. The hall's heavy golden doors stood wide open; but the interior lay in deep shadow, hiding the contents from sight. Close to the nearest corner lay what looked like rusty tools, piled into a discarded heap. Rusty tools? I wondered just how old the newest carvings on that building were.

Then, as I watched, another breathtakingly beautiful young woman appeared from inside the hall and made her leisurely way toward us. Baldr dismounted, and I followed suit, finding myself ankle-deep in soft grass. My horse swished his tail nervously, so I placed one hand on his neck; then strapped the pack to the saddle, in case I needed both hands to control the idiotic beast again.

The goddess nearest us—the one in the spring—eyed me steadily and ignored Baldr altogether. That was simultaneously u

Her hair was as white as her skin, as white as the feathers of the swans that glided up to nuzzle her legs with long, graceful necks. The trailing ends of her hair brushed the surface of the spring. Yet she didn't look pale; rather, she glowed with light, and when she moved, shining sparkles hovered in the air around her, dancing and glittering as brightly as the spring in which she stood. I caught a glimmer from inside the silver pitcher she held. The vessel's gently flaring lip dripped shining beads of water back into the spring, reminding me how thirsty I was, and how hungry, and how filthy from head to toe.

Movement nearby distracted me. I looked up to see the second Norn walking toward us. She had come down from the hall, and when she moved, her stride was the essence of woman. My eyes—even my nostrils—widened.

God...

Balanced on one hip was a bowl of carved green stone, swirled like malachite. It was filled with white clay, evidently dug from the earth at the edge of the spring. I wanted desperately to be that bowl, riding her hips... . Her emerald-colored dress was cut low, allowing sight of the aureolae as well as the swell of full, ripe breasts the color of new honey. But the material hid what I wanted to see, clinging tantalizingly to curved hips and long, shapely thighs. That simple green dress teased more sensually—and far more mercilessly—than Hel's near-nudity.

Her glorious hair was the deep, still green of a pool hidden in an ancient forest, and framed a face of pale honey gold. While her sister's features were fragile as rare porcelain, this goddess' exquisite face invited a man to take it between his hands, to press his lips against her softly inviting mouth, to watch those brilliant green eyes shift from sparkling laughter to the smoldering heat of passion... .

Her hair rippled with her movements, as still water ripples when a leaf drops onto its glistening surface. Silky strands clung to her arms, her breasts, her thighs... .

She met my stare, and her lips slowly parted in a knowing smile of welcome. She returned my gaze frankly, appraising me as openly as I appraised her. When her eyes rested on my crotch she smiled again. I suppressed a groan, and dug my fingers into my horse's mane. Her eyes flashed with laughter again. A low, sensuous chuckle reached my ears, compounding my agony. She had a voice men dreamed of hearing in bed. I had to force my gaze away—

And saw the third Norn.

She had appeared apparently from nowhere at all.

She took a step directly toward me, her stare intent—and when my eyes focused on her, the blood drained from my face, the lust from my loins, and the courage from my bones. My horse screamed, rearing high, and suddenly I was busy fighting to keep him from bolting with everything I owned in this world, or any other. I finally wrestled him down, and got him to stand still. He laid his ears back, and sweated down his neck, but he stood where I held him.

Reluctantly, I turned to face the third Norn. I'd rather have faced Hel again.

Her gown billowed like windblown flame. It crackled hotly in the perfectly still air. The very earth scorched where her bare foot stepped. Her hair was so bright, looking at it brought streams of tears to my eyes. Long strands of fire danced around her shoulders, and trailing tongues of flame brushed the earth to leave smoking trails in the soft white clay. Her whole body shimmered in the heat that hung about her, distorting the slender figure, obscuring the features of her face.

She stepped closer and raised long, smoky lashes to look directly into my eyes. Hers were smoldering embers, flashing with white-hot sparks that shifted and glinted in their glowing depths. Hel's eyes had disturbed me. Looking into this Norn's eyes made my confrontation with Hel seem like a schoolboy's apprehension of a scolding.

Heat engulfed me. It stifled my lungs until drawing breath was agony. I tried to stumble backward, tried to break the gaze that held me prisoner, but was unable to move. I was caught by her gaze like a moth drawn to the very scorching edge of a candle flame. My horse screamed again; but I was powerless to stop him from lunging free and bolting as fast as he could run.

She reached out with slender, flame-tipped fingers. They crackled in the hot air. Sweat drenched my clothing in rivers. I watched, waiting for the pain that would come when my skin blistered under her touch, and wondered if the Biter would even come to my hand... .

A smile teased her lips, blurred slightly by the heat haze between us. A smoky, sultry voice reached through the heat roar in my ears. "No mortal has ever dared my gaze so long. You are brave beyond telling."

She turned her gaze to Baldr. A draft of cool, sweet air rushed over me, filled my lungs. I staggered, and just managed to avoid collapsing to my knees. I was trembling from head to foot and couldn't stop.

A cool hand touched my brow. I yelled, and jumped about three feet straight up. When I landed, my knees folded, dumping me ignominiously to the ground. I managed to look up. The goddess in green, her bowl of clay discarded, stood beside me. Her expression wavered between contrition and amusement. She was holding the silver pitcher of water her sister had been filling from the spring. Wordlessly, she placed it in my hands. When she curled hers around mine to steady them, a shock of energy sped through me. Strength raced up my arms and spread throughout my whole body. My ragged breathing slowed, my hands steadied, and the tremors eased out of my muscles.

When I looked down into the pitcher, I saw the same eerie play of light I'd seen in the spring. I nearly dropped the whole thing in my lap. My benefactress caught it deftly. She wrapped my hands around the sides, and overlapped my fingers warmly with hers; then lifted the rim to my lips. I drank deeply, and closed my eyes as the shining water sank into me.

The sensation was utterly indescribable. The shock of energy from her touch was nothing compared to the feeling that raced through me now. I could feel flesh closing, healing over wounds that until now had mended only with painful slowness. Scars disappeared, and bitter, bone-weary exhaustion vanished. My mind cleared. A sense of strength and energy I hadn't known in years flooded through me. When I opened my eyes, the pitcher was empty and dark.

I stared at the beautiful woman beside me. She smiled, taking the pitcher from my hands, and touched my brow. A flush ran through me. I reached out, unthinking, wanting only to touch her, to take her in my arms and drown in the soft warmth of her... .