Winterfire

Chapter Thirty

Lif

The three of us set off toward the plains of Helheim. We were surrounded by thick forest when one of Hel’s guards tried to stop us.

We were walking in single file on a trail through the pines with me out front followed by Baldur. Hodur walked behind Baldur with his hand upon his brother’s shoulder. All at once Baldur reached out and grabbed my arm, raising a finger to his lips when I turned to question him. I saw that Hodur’s hand rested on Baldur’s shoulder, his unseeing eyes gazing up into the trees as he listened.

“Down!” he screamed, and a giant, shrieking eagle swooped over our heads. If we’d been standing, the bird could easily have grabbed one of us in his talons. As it was, the eagle turned and dove back at us, lower this time. He grabbed Hodur’s shoulders and hoisted him into the air. Baldur grabbed his brother’s legs and tried to pull him down. Even encumbered with the combined weight of both brothers, the bird continued to rise slowly.

I stood up and hurled Breyta at the eagle. The blade caught him in the center of his chest. He shrieked again, made a couple of floundering attempts to flap his wings, and then dropped Hodur and Baldur. They landed in a heap.

I needed Breyta back and was afraid the bird would fly off with it. As the eagle continued to struggle, I climbed up onto a rock and leapt at him, catching hold of his feet. I flung myself upward and grabbed Breyta, wrenching it from his chest with my right hand before plummeting into Hodur’s outstretched arms. The eagle managed to stay aloft, bobbing just above our heads for nearly half a minute,  and then he flew off, screeching as he went.

The eagle was the first living being at which I had ever thrown Breyta. Without thinking or panicking,  I had thrown a deadly weapon; I just reacted and did what Thor had taught me to do.  There had been no time to ponder the situation, to weigh my options.  I had been telling myself since the Danes took me that I would not just scream and wait for someone else to save me, but this was the first time I had actually done it.

“If Garm didn’t know where we were before,” Baldur said. “ He knows now.” Hodur’s shoulders bore puncture marks where the eagle had clutched him; trails of blood ran from the wounds. Baldur made Hodur stop moving and tore of several strips of cloth from his own shirt. The two of us folded the strips into tiny squares and held them tight against the sores until the bleeding stopped.

“It hurts to lift my arms, but I can certainly walk,” said Hodur, and so we set off toward the coast.

“When we heard your name,” Baldur said,  “we suspected you was the chosen female. But when I saw you throw Breyta, I was sure of your identity. ‘Hodur,’ I said--”

“‘I know,’ I said,” said Hodur.

“How does everyone know who I am?” I said. So far, I’d not met anyone, with the exception of myself, who didn’t know who I was supposed to be.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” said Hodur. “None of us, not even the Norns, knew what you’d be like, but we all knew you’d come along someday. We knew you’d wield a hammer, just liked Thor’s. I heard it whisper through the air when you threw it. I didn’t need my brother to tell me what I’d heard.”

I didn’t like feeling that Baldur and Hodur had so much faith in me; not only them, but apparently several other gods, too. I wasn’t worthy of their confidence. I was just an ordinary girl, trapped in an extraordinary situation, an imposter. If I could somehow get out of it, I would. Who was I to try to lead these gods out of Helheim? As usual, there was nothing for me to do but keep moving forward. “A hero is one who knows how to hold on one minute longer,” Thor was fond of saying. I didn’t harbor fantasies of being a hero, but I guessed I could hold on one minute longer.