Eric Flint - Pyramid Power

"Position. You are being watched," explained the squirrel.

Jerry hung his head. It was a lot better than having his body hung. Ever since he'd been marched out onto a branch that led out over the cliff-edge, and was wide enough for three to walk abreast, he'd known that he was going to die. There were too many other decaying remains hanging there for him to reach any other conclusion. Why they had dressed him in a wide hat and blue cloak was another matter. They'd put the rope around his neck, and then Odin himself had come forward and sliced the ropes that bound his hands. Jerry's first instinct had been to grab the rope around his neck… which had been exactly what Odin had planned. A sharp jab with that spear, and Jerry had fallen into space, clinging frantically to the rope.

A great laugh for the?sir, no doubt. It had been a slight payback to see a large snake drop onto the branch and send them scurrying back to the cliff. It would have been more satisfying if the snake had eaten them.

But what it had actually done was far more satisfying and more terrifying. Jerry finally had the courage to look down. He was standing on the snake's broad back. It was stretched between the branches. He only curbed his normal reaction just in time, or he would have been hanging… by the neck.

The squirrel on his chest chuckled nastily. "Goin likes you standing on her back as much as you like standing on it."

"Tell her I am intensely grateful, and I apologize profusely," said Jerry. This was not the time to let ophidiophobia get the better of him.

"Tell Loki. You're going to have hold on again later, when the snakes change shifts."

"Shifts… How long do I have to stay here?"

The squirrel switched its tail. "Nine days."

Jerry took a deep breath. "I might as well jump. I don't think I'll manage nine hours."

"Hmm," said the squirrel. "And if I got you a little extra rope and you actually stood on the branch? We could probably get away with that. They can't see that well. They must be oh, twenty-thirty leaps away. And there is a shred or two of fog blowing. Odin cheated a lot. I saw him."

"I… I think I could manage to stand for a while on the tree-branch. I'm not sure about nine days. That's a long time without food or water, even if I could stand still long enough. I'm sorry to be so difficult." Jerry felt foolish to be apologizing, and still incredibly glad to be alive.

The squirrel shrugged. "Well, there is some joy in putting one over the?sir. The problem is thus. There are two branches accessible from the cliff. Both are guarded, night and day. They put the ropes on the upper one, and bring the sacrifices along the lower one. I can run up the trunk, the snakes can wind their way up it, and the great stags can leap between branches. But even if they would carry you, the stags are loyal to Odin. So there is something of a problem in getting you away from here. And before you ask, a fair number of those sacrifice-hanging ropes are rotten. A couple of them broke under my weight."

Jerry hadn't even thought that far. A drift of cloud was blowing cold and damp around them. "Can we try moving onto the branch, and talk about it from there?"

"Surely. I think Goin would appreciate that," said the squirrel.

The huge snake-which made a python look like blindworm-arched its back, lifting him. "Put your legs on either side of her body," said the squirrel. "You humans have absolutely no sense of balance."

So Jerry knelt and then put his legs around the snake, and shimmied his way the few yards to the huge branch. He wouldn't have said no to guardrails, but compared to where he had been, the branch seemed as wide as a six-lane highway. And even if it meant certain death, he wasn't going to endure that thing around his neck one instant longer. He slipped the noose free, and stood with it in his hand.

"Slip it down the front of your shirt and tie it around your waist," said the squirrel. "That's what Odin did. Not with the noose though. Even without a noose I think it will cut you in half after a while."

Jerry was willing to bet that it would do a person damage a lot faster than it would cut them in half, but it had to be more pleasant-and more secure-than a noose around his neck. With painful fingers he set about unknotting the noose that had nearly killed him. There was enough rope to do as the squirrel had suggested. And actually, once he had it snugged around his waist, tight, but not going to tighten any more, it did make him feel a lot more secure. Even if he did fall, the worst that could happen was a three-yard swing-on a rope that he'd proved could hold him.

There was a knot, he noticed now, just above his head. That was how come he'd managed to hold so long. Doubtless it was there for just that reason-to prolong the agony, and let the victim cling to life for a few extra minutes. Jerry stood there absorbing the situation for a while as the cloud broke, letting him look onto a vista of distant branches and still more distant nothingness. He took a deep breath, relishing being able to do so. "Maybe," he said to the squirrel on the branch in front of him, "you'd like to tell me who you are, and just what is going on. I owe you my life. And I gather that Loki is involved."

The squirrel snickered. "Loki is involved in most things, especially mischief, which is why I like him. I am Ratatosk, the drill-tooth, he who carries vicious words of hate between the eagle at the top of Yggdrasil and the serpent Nidhogg in Niflheim. It's a job. And it stops them eating me, which is quite useful as both serpents and eagles like squirrel meat."

He looked at Jerry and narrowed his eyes. "Don't get any ideas. I bite. And I have friends."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Jerry felt the rope-abrasions on his neck. "But what exactly am I doing here?"

"Looking stupid at the moment. By the way you've been dressed, I think you're a stand-in for Odin. I reckon that he intends some quick change of roles, and to drop your body into the void of Ginnungagap. He will emerge as having been a sacrifice to himself, stabbed with his spear, and now with the wisdom of the dead and having lifted the hidden runes."

"Lifted?"

"I think it is a kenning for stolen. Odin's favorite pastime besides seducing maidens. I could like him if he was less self-important. Or if he hadn't tried to catch and eat me."

"I'm making a mental note not to do that," said Jerry. "But is there really no way out of here? I mean if I am still here after nine days, I think our one-eyed friend will just pitch me into the void anyway."

"Beat him at his own game. Odin's a shape-shifter, if he wants to be. He'll come along in disguise just after lunch, I'd guess, and wait for some cloud to come along to toss you over the edge. Then he'll return heroically. But he's expecting a body. You could toss him over the edge instead. That would be fun."

"And very unlikely. If I recall right he has a spear that doesn't miss. I'll have been here for nine days without food or water and my only weapon will be sore feet."

"Gungnir the spear is a problem," admitted Ratatosk. "Oh, well. Beat him to the punch. Come walking down at dawn on the ninth day. You might even get away, pretending to be him."

It was an attractive idea, even if it did mean spending nine days standing on a tree branch, pretending to hang. "It's not going to work," said Jerry regretfully. "I'll be too far gone with thirst, even if I manage the starvation side. I haven't got a supply of food or water." He patted his pockets… and felt half an apple. "Except this."

Ratatosk chittered his teeth. "That'll help for the wound in your side anyway. And I can fetch you food and water. And even some extra clothes because it is cold here in branches with Fimbulwinter coming on. Count yourself lucky. The mist will let you sit down most of the time."