Sleipnir

Chapter Twenty

I looked at the Biter, and wondered—somewhat stupidly—what I should do. I couldn't think of anything. Neither, evidently, could anyone else. The entire company stood frozen like a crowd of statues.

Then Fenrir moved. Toward me, the man who'd freed him. I raised the Biter halfheartedly, pleased that it still moved at my summons, even more pleased that my arm would move. I still couldn't feel it.

Then, dumbfounded, I lowered the Biter again. The great wolf whined. He dropped his head to where I lay sprawled in the mud, and butted against my leg in the timeless gesture of canine submission.

Uh...

"Good, boy?" I croaked uncertainly.

An eager whine broke from the creature. He lifted his head. A blast of blood-foul breath choked me; then his tongue slathered across my face like a wet towel. Fenrir panted happily, and moved to my side. I managed to wipe off my face without gagging. The Fenris Wolf sat on his haunches and turned a snarling visage to the assembled company.

"He's mine, so don't try it," was the clear message.

Nobody seemed inclined to try anything; much less Fenrir's temper... .

Except Sleipnir, who tossed his head, and snorted. That murderous black fiend sidled and danced his way to my other side, flanking me, then bared his teeth at the nearest Einherjar.

Uh...

Unsteadily I rose to my feet. I almost fell. Instinctively I put my arms out, and found rough fur on one side, sleek muscle on the other... . I hung supported between them, with the Biter still in one hand. The wolf stood every bit as tall and broad as the horse. Allies... brothers... who moments before had been bitterest enemies...

I took a deep breath and searched for Rangrid. Her eyes were dull with shock.

"You okay?"

She put the back of one hand to a bleeding lip, looked absently at the blood; then nodded, staring up at me.

"A little bruised. But, yes. I'm okay." That fact seemed to overwhelm her. "You... ?"

"Yeah."

We looked at one another across the churned battlefield; then I shook my head, and muttered, "Jesus Christ."

A familiar voice said, "Wrong church and wrong pew."

I snapped around. Gary Vernon strolled out of the crowd, stopping well clear of my threatening companions. He'd thrust his hands into his pockets, and just stood there, a grin on his face fit to crack his jaw.

"Well, Barnes, you certainly know how to shake things up."

My guardians never had a chance to react. I was hugging Gary and pounding him on the back before Sleipnir could do more than snort. Both of us were laughing, and he was hugging and pounding me until I nearly fell. I had to wipe tears with the back of one arm.

"Goddamn, Vernon, goddammit, it's good to see you. You wouldn't believe what I've been through... . "

I babbled for a couple of minutes, and he let me; then I finally grasped his arm. "Let's get out of here."

Before he could say anything, a flare of brilliant light drew our attention. I squinted into the glare; then stiffened.

—Aw, shit...

Sleipnir screamed a shrill warning and reared to his haunches. Gary glanced sharply at my face; then peered at the new arrival. A stallion had appeared before the Valhall—a stallion wrapped in flame. Fire defined its muscles, flickered from its mane and tail, and exploded from the prancing hooves in gouts of sparks. The glare was so fierce, I had to lift one arm to shield my eyes.

Skuld rode him like a seasoned pro. Her thighs clamped his sides. She controlled him easily as he reared high in answer to Sleipnir's challenge. Her hair whipped out behind her, each strand writhing like a living thing in the wind of the stallion's passage.

She brought the horse back to earth and held him firmly in check. The reins in her hand flickered like lightning. Skuld glanced around with a satisfied air... then turned her fiery gaze toward me.

I'd thought the heat of her gaze staggering before... .

Even Gary flinched.

One fiery brow rose slowly. I thought I saw the corner of her lips quirk. "Not bad. Not half bad."

Then she reached out a flaming hand. Her fingers closed around my wrist. Before I could even draw breath to scream, Skuld had pulled me astride her stallion. I heard Sleipnir's trumpeting neigh; then the bloody landscape of Valhalla was fading around us. As we transferred between worlds, I realized there was no pain, and wondered whether—if I were in the process of being burned to death—I'd notice.

We came out beside the shimmering spring Urd. Skuld slid gracefully to the ground. I jumped down with considerably less finesse, but a great deal more enthusiasm. I eyed her warily, and ascertained that I was, in fact, uncharred.

"I'm glad you survived," she said, by way of greeting.

Finding myself still alive and unincinerated seemed somehow to have caused difficulty with my breath control. I suspect I sounded more than a little petulant as I replied, "I'm glad you're glad—couldn't you have told me that back there?"

Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled; but all she said was, "Yes; but not the rest of what I have to say. First, let me offer you a gift."

She lifted her hand. I heard a distant squawk; then two midnight-black ravens swooped down from the eaves of her golden hall. They alighted on my shoulders. I stood very still. Sharp little claws dug into my flesh as they found their balance.

"Hugin and Munin returned to me a few moments ago," Skuld explained. "I daresay you will find them useful."

I glanced cautiously from side to side. "Yeah, they'd be great for reco

"How do you know they'd even report to me?" I stalled.

I was frantically searching for a way to broach the more delicate questions in my mind. Somehow, I didn't feel quite like blurting out, "What are you up to now?" Instead, I managed to sound like a truant little boy. "I mean, I—um—sort of killed their former owner."

Her glance was as droll as her tone. "I sort of noticed." But her eyes sparkled with white-hot highlights.

Skuld had a sense of humor?

She smiled. "Hugin and Munin were raised by my hand. Odin begged the gift of them long ago, and I obliged."

I eyed her the way a bird eyes a hungry snake. "I don't have to give up my eye or something, do I?"

Her gaze left my clothes soaked with sweat under a crust of dried mud.

Despite what she was, her voice came out cold as a German blizzard. "I would have you know, Randy Barnes, my sisters and I gave up a great deal of power, on the barest chance someone like you might come along someday and win a duel with Odin. I'm not about to sabotage the man who managed to kill that dithering old fool."

Just what was that supposed to mean? Other than the obvious, which was that Skuld's opinion of the late, unlamented Odin Oath-Breaker seemed no higher than mine.

I wondered if accepting the birds would be something like signing a contract in blood. I'd just managed to wriggle out of my contract with Hel, by killing Odin; I didn't feel like striking any more deals with any more deities. But Skuld was waiting for me to do something.

I reached up a tentative hand. Hugin—or was it Munin?—let me stroke his glossy feathers. I glanced up at Skuld again. "Would you, uh, mind explaining that, please?"

I thought it was a reasonable request, considering.

She sat down on a white limestone bench carved with vines and flowers. The stone blackened. If she sat there long enough, would the limestone turn to marble? She patted the bench gently. Reluctantly, I sat beside her.