Winterfire

Chapter Twenty-five

Lif

I stood back as the gate swung slowly inward. If I’d had time for caution, I’d have spent a long time listening and looking before I made a move toward the door, but I had Frigga’s deadline in my head, so I forced myself to stride right through the opening.

I found myself in the most comfortable room I’d ever seen. A thick, colorful carpet covered the floor. A fire burned merrily in a corner fireplace. An enormous, many-paned glass window occupied the wall opposite the entrance. It looked out on a lovely autumn garden, with red and yellow leaves floating lazily from the trees. A basket of apples stood at the base of one of the trees and a ladder leaned against its trunk, as if someone had just been picking apples and would be right back. The room I entered was not what I expected to find in Helheim. All at once, I couldn’t remember why I was here. I couldn’t see why I’d ever want to leave this room.

A woman in a long, purple dress sat at a writing desk, writing with a crow-feather quill. “I’ll be with you in just a moment,” said the woman at the desk. She finished writing, and blew gently on the page to dry the ink. Then she capped the ink well, put everything aside, and looked up at me. “Now then, I am called Mordgud,” she said, extending a hand to me. The hand was warm and strong. “What can I do for you?” I wondered if perhaps I was in the wrong place. Could Helheim be so…civilized? I thought hard. Why was I here? I put my hand into my pocket absentmindedly and touched the bag of runes. Then I remembered.

“I have come to speak with Baldur and Hodur,” I said. The woman stood and walked to a bookcase across the room. She was almost as tall as Thor was, but slender and graceful. She took a great black book from the shelf and opened it on a wooden stand. She flipped through the pages, murmuring to herself.

“Atli…Audgisil…Audun…Baggi… Bak… ahh, here he is: Baldur. He is in the Elms. What was the other name?”

“Hodur,” I said. “He is Baldur’s brother.”

“Well, if he’s the brother, I don’t need to look him up; he’ll be in the same place. Tell me, why do you wish to speak to them? Were they friends of yours?”

Frigga had coached me on answering such a question; I was supposed to lie and pretend I missed them and wanted to see them. I had always been a terrible liar. I guessed this woman would see through even a good liar, and so I told the truth. “I have never met them before in my life. Their mother sent me here to see them on her behalf.”

“I see,” said Mordgud, consulting her book again. “Ahh. Their mother is Frigga. Hel banned her from Helheim. At least while Frigga’s still alive, that is.” Mordgud crossed the room and sat down on a couch beside the fire, patting the spot beside her for me. I sat and immediately felt so tired, I could barely keep my eyes open. The room was so warm and cozy. My body relaxed and melted right into the couch. I’ll just take a short nap, I thought. As I settled back against the cushions, my back pressed against Breyta, still in my pack, and I jolted upright. I stood abruptly.

“I think I’ll just stand,” I said. I had been nearly overcome with fatigue twice in the last few minutes; each time, it was contact with the runes or Breyta—objects from home—that brought me back to my senses. I put my hand back into my pocket and held the rune bag to keep myself alert.

“Oh,” said Mordgud, smiling. “Not so easily fooled, are you? Tell me a bit about yourself. What’s your name? Where are you from?”

I took off my pack and held Breyta, still concealed in the bag, in my arms. I stared at Mordgud and spoke: “My name is Lif, and I come from Beal, in Northumbria.” My voice grew stronger and steadier with each word I spoke. I could feel Breyta, sure and vibrating against my chest.