Winterfire

Chapter Nine

Lif

            Despite the man’s clumsy efforts at getting us both on the horse, his arm was an iron belt around my waist once we were seated. I could barely move, let alone jump off and run away. I twisted around to see him, and though the horse was galloping and we were bumping along, I got a good look at him. He had long, blond hair, dark, blue eyes, and straight, white teeth. He was smiling at me.

            “Put me down!” I yelled. I struggled and kicked, but the only connection my feet made were with the horse’s side. The man was awkward, but strong. After a moment, I realized that if my kicks did anything at all, they urged the animal to go faster. I stopped kicking and concentrated on twisting wildly to get out of the unyielding grip.

            “Easy there, miss!” the man said to me. “Don’t you know who I am? Why, any other mortal woman would be happy to be snatched up by me!” Just then, the horse leaped over a fallen log in our path, and the man nearly fell off again. If he’d not been holding onto me so tightly, he surely would have.

“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care!” I said. I bit my lip trying to speak on the bumpy ride and tasted blood on my tongue.

The man pulled up hard on the reins and stopped the horse so abruptly I slammed my face against the horse’s neck. “Let us have a proper introduction,” the man said. He took hold of my shoulders gently and turned me around to face him. If I’d seen the beautiful woman on the horse for more than a few moments, I’d have recognized this man as her brother instantly; their appearance was so similar. His long hair was the exact color the woman’s had been, and his eyes were the same, intense blue. He focused his gaze upon me.

“My name is Freyr. The woman you saw ride off just before I picked you up is Freyja, my twin sister. I am of the Vanir, but I live in Asgard, our destination today.” He gazed off into the distance as he spoke the next words. “I am a god of peace, king of the elves, and a brave warrior, if I do say so myself, which I don’t.” He sighed before turning his attention back to me. “I am something of an agricultural expert. Your father was a farmer before the Fimbulvetr—the three winters—began, was he not? I have visited his fields many times to insure the success of his harvests. I know Beal, where you lived before you came here. I am not your enemy, nor is my sister. We will do everything in our power to protect you. There, now. Happy?”

I was too startled to speak. How did he know my father was a farmer? It would be easy enough to find out the name of the town I’d been taken from, but I hadn’t seen this man talking to any of my fellow captives, and they were the only people here who had known my father. Why would he and his sister want to protect me? From what? I’d already been kidnapped; if they were so interested in defending me, where were they when I really needed help?  

Freyr’s grip had loosened, and I found that I could turn around to face forward. Just as we emerged from the dense pine forest through which we’d been traveling, I saw an amazing sight: a magnificent bridge rose in a gentle arch before us. It shimmered in red, gold, blue, purple, and green bands, and the top of it disappeared in the clouds. I took a deep breath and inhaled a clean, fresh scent. The air around the bridge smelled like a thunderstorm. I craned my neck upward to see where the bridge ended, but mist swirled around the highest point I could see. I  could just make out the beautiful woman, the one Freyr said was his sister Freyja, and her companion high up on the bridge, about to enter the clouds. I forgot my agitation at my mistreatment in my excitement to tread upon that bridge.

“The Bridge Bifrost,” said Freyr, “Entrance to Asgard, stunning city of the gods.”

The horse seemed anxious to gain the bridge and began to run faster. His hooves thundered on the packed dirt until he stepped upon the bridge. Then, though he still galloped hard, the footfalls fell silent. I leaned over to look at the bridge and found that it had all but vanished. The pavement beneath the horse’s feet was nothing more than an insubstantial, swirling, multicolored mist. It looked as though I could plunge my hands right through it, but the horse’s feet did not sink. Through the bridge, I looked down upon the treetops. I watched in fascination as a flock of starlings flowed into undulating, elongated circles and waves below. Looking back, I could see the busy harbor I’d just left. Looking forward, I saw clouds swirling around the bridge; it looked as though it ended just before them, but each time we reached the point where I thought we’d fall off, the bridge continued. After only a few minutes, we were too high to make out anything on the ground below, and the mists closed around the bridge behind us. There was nothing to see ahead but the multicolored bridge vanishing into the clouds. Still, the horse galloped onward, from nothing, into nothing.