Winterfire

Chapter Thirty-seven

Lucan

Lif and I stayed with Njord on his ship throughout the night. I studied him when I thought he wasn’t looking at me; he was just as Cormack had described him. He urged us to sleep as much as possible. “Who knows when you will have the chance to rest again? Take advantage of me now.”

We woke when the pale of the cold sun shone on our faces. Njord shared his breakfast with us and crammed food and other supplies into Lif’s pack. “We can’t take all your food,” Lif said. “Besides, the pack is so full I can’t fit Breyta.”

“You’ll want Breyta in your hand and ready to fly, from here on in, not wedged in the bottom of your pack. I didn’t tell you this last night because I hoped you’d get some sleep, but that vicious, revolting dog is not dead.”

“You mean Garm?” said Lif.

“Garm is Hel’s dog?” I asked.

 “Yes,” said Lif. “I thought he was dead. Baldur drove Breyta into his backside and Njord flung him far out to sea.”

“And he survived?” I asked.

“He’s no ordinary dog,” said Njord. “He’s a giant. He takes the form of a dog because it suits him; he can run faster and bite harder than anyone in the Nine Worlds. Even the other giants fear him. That day on the beach when I flung him out to sea, I should have pursued him to make sure he was dead, but I didn’t, and now he’s back. That’s what comes of not finishing a job once you start it. The tide returned him to the shores of Helheim and he incurred the sympathy of those witch-maidens by promising to avenge Hel’s death. They bound his wounds and nursed him back to health. He’s a giant, and they bounce back quickly.”

“If he means to avenge Hel’s death, then that means…,” reasoned Lif.

“He’s coming for you,” Njord finished her thought. “So you’d better keep Breyta ready. Now, we are nearing Midgard, where I will leave you. The waters are sure to rise, and Surtr’s still on his burning rampage, so watch yourselves.”

“Why are you taking us to Midgard?” I asked. “What’s there for us?”

“Sanctuary, I imagine,” said Njord. “I don’t know the particulars, but my gut tells me to leave you there. I have no idea where Hodmimir’s Holt is—oh, you can bet that if your sanctuary were purported to be anywhere in my vast seas, I’d know exactly where it is, unlike the Aesir, who haven’t a clue—but I’ve learned to rely on my instincts. My instinct tells me Hodmimir’s Holt is in Midgard.”

“But why can’t we just stay here on the ship with you?” asked Lif. “Aren’t we safer here? Garm can’t get us. Surtr’s flames can’t burn us.”

“No,” said Njord. “That cannot be.”

“Why?” asked Lif.

“You have things to do. I have things to do. I’ve grown accustomed to your ignorance of history, so let me fill you in. I was born and raised in Vanaheim – another of the Nine Worlds. I’ve been living with the Aesir, but I am not one of them, and they never let me forget it. Oh, they’re decent enough to me, and they’ve always treated my children well, but-”

“Who are your children?” Lif interrupted.

“My daughter is Freyja, of course. She got her looks from me.” He winked at me.

“Mistress is your daughter?” said Lif. I was lost; I didn’t know who they were talking about, though I had heard the name ‘Freyja’ from the Danes on the Fýri.

“Mistress? Is that what you call her?” Njord laughed. “That girl.” He smiled.

“So, that means Freyr is your son,” said Lif. Njord nodded.

“He’s a good man. A bit clumsy, but—”

“I guess he got that from you,” Lif interrupted.

 “Well, anyway, that pyromaniac Surtr is going to burn Asgard; that’s none of my concern, but he also plans to torch Vanaheim, and that is my concern. I can travel light and fast on my own. I won’t need my ship much longer. I can swim for…for… well, for as long as I want. We’ve already seen how you two fare in the sea without a ship. You need the land beneath your feet. I am leaving you in Midgard. Gather your things and get ready to go ashore.”