Joanne Harris - Runemarks

The Vanir had joined them from their vantage point in the heart of the desert, and there had been some discussion over what had happened-discussion that had proved for the most part inconclusive. Skadi was particularly resentful, given that Odin was now beyond revenge, and Loki…

“Basically, what you’re saying is that I’m not allowed to kill him,” she said for the fourth time. She had already tried this argument on Njörd, Frey, and Bragi, and now it was Heimdall’s turn to try to placate her (none of the others had managed yet).

Heimdall showed his golden teeth.

“Why?” said the Huntress. “Because he saved the world? Well, if that’s your excuse-”

“It’s not.” That was Idun, breaking in, sounding unusually down-to-earth and taking Skadi by surprise. “You can’t kill Loki,” she said simply, “because Balder wanted him to live.”

There was a long silence.

“Balder?” said Skadi.

Idun nodded.

There was another silence, during which Idun thought, with some surprise, that Skadi’s ice blue eyes looked a little misty. It was no secret that Balder had broken hearts while he was alive, but-

“Balder wanted him to live,” repeated Skadi in a doubtful voice.

“He sacrificed his life for him-for all of us,” said Idun.

There was another long and chilly pause.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” said Skadi. “You’ll be saying he’s in charge next.”

“Well,” said Idun. “Officially, as the General’s second in command-”

“Oh, bite me,” growled the Huntress, and put away her mindwhip before slouching off across the sand.

Adam was watching all this from afar. He felt surprisingly unafraid-he thought that perhaps the events of the past few days had cured him of fear forever-but his eyes were narrowed in hate as he watched, his skinny body curled up beneath a rock some distance from where the gods were standing.

No one had paid him the least attention; no one had searched for him, called, or even noticed that he was missing.

That was good, said Adam to himself; if he took the wide road across the plain, he would be long gone before anyone remembered he’d been there at all.

He moved quickly and with a peculiar confidence quite unlike the Adam Scattergood who had left Malbry half a lifetime ago. He remembered that Adam with some contempt now-that boy who was afraid of dreams. Now he stood reborn-a man, perhaps even the Last Man-and he was aware of a great responsibility. In one hand he held a golden key, and he kept his fist clenched tight around it as he began to run, low and fast, across the colorless expanse of Hel while in his mind that little voice still whispered and coaxed, promising:

Worlds…

The dead gave him a wide berth, which didn’t surprise Adam one bit.

Meanwhile, Maddy was trying to come to terms with recent events. It was hard enough to believe that they had survived at all-and yet more so to accept the four newcomers from across the river, the Æsir, who stood in Aspect among them.

Thor the Thunderer, who also happened to be Dorian Scattergood; Frigg the Mother, who had once been Ethel Parson; Bright-Haired Sif, the Harvest Queen, whose sigil Ár was echoed on the belly of a potbellied sow; and finally T ýr, One-

Handed no more, but who seemed to be having problems with his host.

“I can’t be T ýr,” protested Sugar-and-Sack. “That’s Brave-Hearted T ýr. T ýr the Warrior. I mean, do I even look like a warrior? There’s been a bloody mistake. You’ve mistaken me for someone brave.”

“You were brave,” Maddy told him. “You stole Mimir’s head.”

“I didn’t mean to!” said Sugar in alarm. “It was the Captain made me do it! He’s who you want, not me!” Around and above him the Warrior’s Aspect stood tall, and his colors-which were a vibrant red with a hint of goblin gold at the edges-glowed fiercely. On his left palm a runemark burned- T ýr, reversed, bright as blood. “Take it off!” said Sugar, holding out his hand.

The Mother smiled. “It isn’t that easy.”

“But I’m not me anymore!” wailed the reluctant Warrior.

“Of course you are,” said Maddy gently. “You’ll carry his Aspect, but you’ll always be you. Just as I’ll always be Maddy Smith, though I’ll also be Modi, child of Thor. Think about it, Sugar. You’ve done a wonderful thing. All of you have.” She looked at Ethel, Dorian, and Fat Lizzy-looking very strange in the Aspect of Bright-Haired Sif-and then at Loki, who was standing alone with his back turned.

Maddy went over to him, but he did not look at her. Instead he watched the river Dream, with its islands, eddies, skerries, and rocks, and for once there was no trace of laughter in his eyes, but only a bleakness that Maddy could not identify.

“Cheer up, you escaped,” she said at last.

Loki kept right on not looking at her. Across the river the Black Fortress of Netherworld was already rebuilding itself, piece by piece, turret by impossible turret.

“Just wondering what else escaped,” Loki remarked, without taking his eyes from the Black Fortress.

“More of the Æsir, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.”

Maddy thought he didn’t sound particularly convinced.

“Or Balder, do you think?”

“Balder’s dead.” He looked at her then, and there was anger as well as bleakness in his eyes. “Balder died to save me. Or rather, he died to ensure Hel’s word was not broken-the word that keeps the balance between Order and Chaos in this place.” He paused for a moment. “The smug bastard.”

In spite of herself, Maddy smiled.

“Well, I hope he doesn’t expect gratitude. I never was much good at that. And as for the General…” He paused again, his eyes moving to the place where Odin had fallen. “If he thinks this puts me under any kind of obligation…”

There was a silence, in which Loki glared fiercely into the middle distance.

“It’s all right,” said Maddy. “I’ll miss him too.” And, hand in hand, they walked to the shore of Dream, where the funeral was being prepared.

There should have been a ship, Maddy thought-a long gray ship to set on fire as they pushed it away from the shore; instead they made do with a flat piece of floating debris, some shard of the fortress that had fallen away. They laid Odin’s body on this makeshift barque, along with his staff and his hat, and then all of them, the lost children of Order and of Chaos, watched as finally Loki stood at the foot of the boat and torched it with wildfire.

No one spoke as the river took the last of Odin One-Eye into fire and darkness. No one dared voice the hope that he might somehow have escaped into Dream-though if he had died in Hel, Maddy thought, then surely Hel would have claimed him as she had the rest, and there would have been no body to burn.

But Hel was in her citadel, and no amount of calling or petitioning could persuade her to show her face again.

And so all remained lost in thought; the ragged survivors, Æsir and Vanir, pale, bruised, and grieving.

Is this really how it was supposed to end? thought Maddy. The General dead, the balance regained, the Order wiped out, and us, the gods of yesteryear, standing like beggars on the shore of Dream, waiting-waiting for what?

She looked up, angry at the tears that threatened. And saw-

– the gods, in full Aspect, all twelve of them, standing like columns of color and light, heroes and heroines of the Elder Age. And as Maddy watched, the tears began to stream down her face-Maddy Smith, who never cried-and in that moment of grief and uncertainty she felt a sudden and unexpected lurch of joy.