Winterfire

Chapter Thirty-one

Lif

The three of us held hands and hurried across the field. I could see the blue-green ocean – I could smell its fresh, briny scent. I heard the rumble of the breakers crashing on the beach, and the swooshing rush as they flowed back again. We paused at the water’s edge and gazed out upon the vast sea. I imagined the same waves that touched the shores of Helheim touching the shores of Beal; my spirits rose at the thought of the link. All things are connected.

“Now we need only follow the shoreline to the river’s estuary,” said Baldur. “Then we will cross the river and leave Helheim behind.” Before we had even take one step toward our goal, I heard a woman clear her throat and I turned around.

Hel was in her chair, pushed by Ganglati, just a few feet behind us. She was surrounded by a dozen tall, broad-shouldered women, each of whom brandished a spear; the thunder of the ocean must have covered the sound of their pursuit. The women advanced upon us silently, slowly, but steadily, forcing us to step backward into the sea. In the distance, I heard the baying of a dog. “Garm,” said Hodur. “He’s coming toward us. Fast.”  Hel tilted her head to the sound and a smile spread across her face.

“Lif,” Baldur whispered, “We’ll never get away now, though we probably didn’t really have a chance anyway, but perhaps we can still help the gods. We must stop Hel. Just off the shore to the south of us, she has already loaded the dead onto a dozen ships. Loki will be here soon to lead the flotilla of the dead to the Plains of Vigrid, where they will add to the force of Evil. They will tip the balance.”

“I know what you are saying, Baldur the Beautiful,” sneered Hel. “Whisper all you want; I hear everything.”

“But what good will stopping Hel do if the ships are already loaded, awaiting Loki’s command?” I asked. I spoke in my normal voice. I did not take my eyes off Hel.

“Only Hel commands the dead. Without her, they will not fight. They will not even get off the ships,” said Hodur. Just then, one of the warriors threw her spear at him. She threw it hard and fast, but he ducked just in time, as though he’d heard it coming. Another warrior unleashed her spear, and then another and another. Baldur grabbed Hodur and pulled him beneath the waves. They swam, under water, out of range of the spears. Hel drew a gleaming, jewel-encrusted knife from her sleeve and hurled it at me. The point would have pierced my finger, if I still had one. As it was, it merely tore the bandage from my hand and flung it harmlessly into the sea.

The warriors were accustomed to throwing their spears at the dead, those emaciated, downtrodden, and uninspired souls unused to physical exertion; the women seemed to lack the skills and the attitude necessary to stop a strong, lively, forceful person like me. They unleashed all their spears at me, but Hel's knife was the only thing to hit me. When their spears were gone, the women advanced toward me in an angry mob. I guess they intended to pull me limb from limb with their bare hands. I didn’t have time to aim properly, but I hurled Breyta at Hel as hard as I could just as the warriors reached me and forced my head beneath the waves.

With that one action, I saw the indiscriminate effect of luck in a fight.

My head was under water when Breyta struck Hel. The blade hit just above the boundary between the living body and the dead corpse. If it had struck a hair’s breadth lower, it would have hit a body that was already dead. It would have accomplished nothing; Hel would not even have felt it.

As it was, it struck the living, breathing body of the Queen of Helheim, inflicting tremendous, fatal damage. The force of the hit would have tipped the chair had not Ganglati been holding it. Ganglati may have escaped unharmed had she not been holding it. Instead, she held the chair firmly in place and Breyta tore through Hel’s body and into Ganglati’s legs. Her breath huffed out of her body and she looked down where her knees should have been in surprise. Then she dropped to the ground, dead.

The other warriors cried out in unison when Breyta struck Hel. They immediately released me, clutching their stomachs and writhing in the waves. I coughed and sputtered and tried to get my breath. On each side of me, Baldur and Hodur hauled me up out of the water and pounded my back with their hands. The three of us had not even the time to assess our predicament as we staggered out of the water onto the beach when Garm howled, reminding us of his presence. I raised my head to see him streaking across the sand directly toward us. The other women were wailing, wandering aimlessly on the beach. I hoped such easy prey would distract Garm, but he was not just a dog; he was a Jotun, a thinking, scheming killer, intent on destroying me.

“Breyta!” I tried to scream. The words caught in my throat. I lurched forward to retrieve Breyta from the wreckage of Hel and Ganglati to use it on Garm. I staggered and fell, pulling Baldur down with me. The rune bag spilled from my pocket, scattering the runes in the sand. Baldur saw them scatter.

“Runes!” he yelled. “Hodur, which one?”

“Laguz!” yelled Hodur. “Find Laguz!” I didn’t stop to wonder why Hodur wanted Laguz; I was light-headed and dizzy from my recent near-drowning, but when I saw Laguz right beside my hand, I grabbed it and forced it into Baldur’s hand. I crouched on my hands and knees, vomiting sea water.

“I have it!” yelled Baldur.

“Throw it into the sea! Hurry!” yelled Hodur. Baldur threw the rune into the sea just as Garm launched himself at me, knocking me backward onto the sand.