Winterfire

Chapter Thirty-four

Lif

“You are hungry and thirsty, no doubt,” said Njord. “There’s food and water in the chest in the stern.” Baldur went to the chest and brought rye bread, cheese, apples, and water back for the three of us. I was glad we sat to eat; my legs trembled so much I could hardly stand anyway. Njord’s ship, void of oars and having only a tattered sail, began to pick up speed.

Njord sat down beside us, apparently unconcerned with steering the ship, although a thick fog surrounded us. “What is happening in Asgard?” asked Baldur.

“The cocks have crowed, signally the beginning of the battle. Heimdall has blown his horn, calling the gods to arms. Jormungandr was stirring up the sea off the coast of Midgard when I left; he won’t come ashore for a while yet. Loki left the harbor in Helheim just as I got here, but with only one ship, and since Hel’s dead, his troops won’t do him any good. You’ve really created mayhem here,” he said, winking at me. “Another thing in our favor is that the Valkyries have begun to gather warriors before the warriors’ deaths; if Odin hears a person express the desire to fight on the side of the good, he sends a Valkyrie to fetch that fighter. Our ranks are swelling.”

“Who are the Valkyries?” I asked.

Njord had no patience for what he considered stupid questions. “Who are the Valkyries? Were you raised in a cave?” He shook his head in disbelief and took a large bite of an apple.

“The Valkyries are Odin’s warrior maidens,” said Hodur. “Ever since men began fighting other men, the Valkyries have flown across every battlefield as great, white birds, and collected the men who’ve died fighting. They’ve been gathering these warriors at Odin’s hall, Valhalla, where the warriors do battle with each other all day, and return to the hall to eat and drink as the best of friends each night.”

Njord took another bite of his apple and spoke with his mouth full. “If you live at Folkvanger, you’ve been living right under the nose of a Valkyrie. Róta.”

I began to say I’d never met such a person, but then all at once, I knew who Róta was. “You mean Erna,” I said. There were several unusual things about Erna that I had chosen to overlook because Erna was my closest friend at Folkvanger; I hadn’t wanted to question her little oddities. First, there were the feathers. Sometimes, when Erna swept in from outside, a swirl of small white feathers trailed after her. Often, Erna went missing for two or three days. Mildred was ready with some unsatisfactory explanation for her absences— she’d gone to help the goddess, Iduna, with her apples, she was watching the tower for Heimdall so he could take a break— always explanations I had no way of checking. When she returned from these missions, she was exhausted. She slept for a day and a night, right around the clock.

“Of course,” said Njord with a look that suggested perhaps I was not as oblivious as he’d first thought.

I sat quietly, deep in thought. Erna was a Valkyrie. Lucan was…Lifthrasir! The man chosen to survive the Ragnarok! In the commotion of escaping from Helheim, I had forgotten all about the prophecy Hel recited for me.

“Njord! Do you know about Lifthrasir?” I asked.

“Do I know about Lifthrasir? Of course, I know! I’m the one responsible for finding him! I sent those two boys to follow Tyrfing, and that led them right to Lifthrasir. I can even recite the Norn’s verse regarding Lifthrasir for you.”

Njord stood on surprisingly stable feet. The ship rushed over choppy seas, swaying and pitching. The wind blew Njord’s long braid nearly straight out behind him. He might stumble on solid ground, but he was steady on his rocking ship. He cleared his throat and began, in a solemn tone, to recite a verse:

Stolen from the plundered lands,

Bourne upon the sea,

A boy whose world is upside-down,

Will name the sword for thee.

He is the trueborn master.

Tyrfing heeds his call alone.

Past Ragnarok, the sword will shine.

Lifthrasir brings it home.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why is his world upside down? And what is Tyrfing?” I leaned against the gunwale, disheartened. “This Lifthrasir does not sound like my old friend Lucan, though that is his real name.”

Njord sat down and rocked his head in his hands. “How have you managed to get this far along in your fated path and remained so ignorant? I don’t know what the ‘upside down’ refers to, but Cormack and Gilbert used it to identify Lifthrasir. And Tyrfing is the most famous cursed sword ever forged in the bowels of Svartlheim. Lifthrasir is the only man who can wield it without it resulting in his own death. I have not witnessed him in action, but my sources have; the boy uses the sword as if it’s a part of him. I’m told he fights like a Berserker.”

“But my friend Lucan never even saw a sword until that day we were kidnapped by the Danes. He wouldn’t know the first thing about using one to fight, and anyway, he is the most peaceful, non-confrontational person I have ever known,” I said. I was sure, now, that this sword-wielding Lifthrasir was not my Lucan.

“Lif,” said Hodur. “The last time you saw Lucan, could you throw a war hammer? Had you ever even heard of one? Don’t you think Lucan would be shocked to learn you just destroyed Hel, Goddess of Helheim, with your own war hammer? If you could change, could not he?”

I had never stopped to think about how much I had changed. I was not the same girl the Danes took from Beal. Of course, Lucan would have changed, too.

“Njord,” I said, “do you know where Lifthrasir is now?”

“He is on my sea as we speak, sailing to Asgard. You will meet up with him in Thor’s harbor.”

“Frigga flew here with a falcon cape,” I said. “It took us all day. How long will it take us to get back to Asgard in your ship?” I knew nothing could travel faster than a bird in flight; I dreaded the coming days of travel it would take us to reach Lucan by ship.

“Finish your dinner,” said Njord. “We’re nearly there now.”