Guardians Inc.:Thundersword (Guardians Incorporated #2) (31 page)

The Norn woman on the left looked at the other two, and then all three turned their backs to him. They seemed to be talking among themselves in a heated discussion, although Thomas couldn't hear anything.

“What’s happening?” Thomas whispered to Ratatosk.

“Shhh,” the squirrel said. “They are deciding what to do with you.”

The woman in the middle lifted her hands, and the others seemed to listen to what she was saying. Then the woman on the left moved her mouth. She seemed angry.

“Was that bad?” Thomas asked.

“Shhhh!” Ratatosk slapped him.

After a couple of minutes, the Norns seemed to agree on something, and the woman on the middle turned to Thomas. She picked up a handful of sand and extended it to him.

“Take it,” Ratatosk said. “You can pass now.”

Thomas held out his hand, and the woman dropped the sand in his palm.

“Let’s go,” Ratatosk said, pointing at the other side of the room. A door delineated itself on the wall.

“Thank you,” Thomas said, but the Norns didn’t answer. They just followed his movements as he approached the door.

“Throw the sand at the door,” Ratatosk said. “Quick!”

Thomas threw the sand at the door and it receded into the wall. He looked back at the Norns, but they were already peering into the fountain again.

“Who are you?” Ratatosk asked as the door began to open. “I’ve never seen the fountain react like that before. And I’ve brought some true heroes before.”

“True heroes?”

“Cú Chulain, Beowulf, you know…Merlin?”

Thomas hunched his shoulders; he didn’t know who Cú Chulain was, but he had heard about Beowulf, even seen a movie about him, and Merlin, or course, was a name everyone knew. Ratatosk’s comment actually scared him.

“Move it.” Ratatosk pinched him with a claw.

Thomas crossed the door into the stone hallway, it felt like an old medieval castle. The door began to close behind him, and he looked at Ratatosk, still perched on his shoulder. The squirrel had started to munch on a piece of acorn he had saved. His left cheek was still full with the other piece.

“Are you going to stay there?” Thomas asked. The squirrel’s little claws were digging into his shoulder.

“Can’t eat and walk at the same time,” Ratatosk answered. “Walking’s your job. So go ahead.”

“Where to?” Thomas asked.

Ratatosk gulped a piece of golden acorn. “Just follow the sound.” The door closed behind him, and suddenly the smell of cooked meat reached his nostrils and the sounds of a party filled the hallway.

A wild party too—he could hear clashes and yells, even the clanging of swords as he followed the noise through the corridor. He turned left and found two guards with lances and shields on each side of a heavy wooden door.

“Vikings,” he mumbled and Ratatosk laughed.

“What did you expect?” the squirrel asked, then pinched him again. “Keep moving, you’re like a lazy donkey!”

The two guards didn’t move from their posts; they just eyed Thomas as he approached them. They were strong, very tall, and looked fierce.  Their long hair was braided as well as their beards.  Thomas stood away from the door unsure of what to say, or even if he had to say anything.

“Don't worry about these two,” Ratatosk whispered. “They are here just to open the door. They won't fight you.”

The two guards centered their gaze on Thomas. One of them smacked his lips.

“Well, ask them!” Ratastosk shouted in Thomas’s ear.

“Open!”  Thomas shouted, then added, “please,” more softly.

The guards opened the door for him, and the noise from inside became almost unbearable.

It was a party. Viking style.

Row after row of long, wooden tables filled the hall. Each table held at least twenty Vikings on each side. Some were singing and eating while others clanged their cups, which were incidentally made from human skulls. Others were fighting with axes on top of the tables while the onlookers cheered. There were a couple of Vikings who were completely passed out, and other Vikings were fighting with their knuckles. Chairs, skull glasses, and meat flew from one side of the hall to the other.

“You can worry a little about these ones! You might have to fight some of these!” Ratatosk shouted over the ruckus. He pointed with his claw to a set of doors on the other side of the long hall. “These are the Halls of Valhalla, and the throne room is on the other side.”

“What do you mean I might have to fight some of these...?” The doors behind Thomas closed loudly, and the entire hall stopped moving as the Vikings looked at the newcomers to the feast. Suddenly, he was the center of attention of an entire Viking army.

The Vikings remained on their tables, and Thomas didn't know if he should run or walk or just try to talk his way out of it.

“Raahen,” a Viking, who had been in a drunken stupor a moment ago, pointed at Thomas and tapped on his neighbor’s arm. “Raaaa...ven!”  he said, trying to better articulate. Then he dropped from his stool.

“Raven!” the other Viking repeated.  “Raven, Raven. Raven…” Louder and louder, like a group of cheerleaders, the Vikings chanted as they joined and tapped on the tables with their fists and skull glasses.

“I think they like you,” Ratatosk said, “or at least you amuse them. I suggest we go as fast as we can while they're happy.”

Thomas didn't need a pinch from Ratatosk this time; he began to cross briskly through the center of the hallway toward the doors on the other side. The Vikings chant grew louder, and Thomas imagined that this might be what football players heard after winning the Superbowl.

The door opened and the Vikings fell silent. He turned around, and all of them were looking at him, as if expecting something from him. Ratatosk slowly pinched his shoulder.

Thomas couldn't think of anything, so he raised his fist and shouted.

The Halls of Valhalla erupted in pandemonium as the Vikings joined in the shout. Thomas kept shouting as the doors slowly closed, muffling a little of the noise.

“That wasn't so bad,” he told Ratatosk. He was actually exhilarated about the Halls and how the Vikings had received him.

“Are you going to keep us waiting?” a burly voice called from behind him.

Thomas turned around. He was in a circular atrium built with granite. The roof was made with heavy, wooden beams, and dragons’ heads and Viking motifs of battle scenes were carved on the walls.  At least two dozen men and women were standing around the hall, the men dressed in metal armor and cloaks made of fur, and the women dressed in rich clothing and beautiful jewelry.

“Well?” a man seated on the center throne asked. He was wearing a crowned helmet, and a leather patch covered one of his eyes.

Ratatosk leaned in his ear, but Thomas spoke first. “I know,” he whispered to the squirrel. “That’s Odin.”

The ancient magical creatures the Norsemen had called “Gods” stood before him.

The Aesir

Thomas slowly approached the center of the circular hall, unsure of what to do. All eyes were watching his every move. Many different smells reached him, from fresh-cut grass to the ozone smell just after a heavy rain, flowers, and also the smell of beer. He even got a whiff of rotting meat, but it dissipated quickly and was replaced by the smell of grilled fish and wine.

      He stopped once he had reached the center of the hall.

Odin stood up from his throne. He was an imposing figure with a long, reddish beard streaked with white, and braided, long hair that almost reached his waist. He was wearing a full metal suit of armor polished to a shine over black leather. Unlike the Vikings Thomas had seen in the Halls of Valhalla, Odin was truly a sight that could inspire fear and admiration.

Thomas tried to remain calm as the broad-shouldered Odin approached him.

With a swift move Odin grabbed Thomas by the arms, pressing them against his torso, and effortlessly lifted him. He surveyed Thomas with a curious eye.

“Husband...” the queen said from the throne.

“I know, my wife. I noticed,” Odin said, running his gaze over Thomas's neck. He lifted him up higher and turned him on his side. Ratatosk had to scramble over Thomas’s head, digging his claws in Thomas’s shoulder in order not to fall. The other Aesir tilted their heads, following Thomas.

“My Lord...” one of the Aesir said. He was the only male wearing an elegant tunic instead of a suit of armor. Odin silenced him with a stare. He then turned Thomas upside down, released him for a second, and caught him by the legs. Thomas reflexively braced for a fall, but his extended arms didn't even reach the floor.

With a quick jerk, Odin turned Thomas upright again. Ratatosk had to dig his claws in deep or he would have been sent flying.

Odin placed Thomas on the floor, and then turned his chin toward his throne. The Queen made the motion to say something, but Odin silenced her.

“Not a word,” he said. “Not a single word!” he yelled at the other Aesir.

“Tom!” a young girl cried out from behind him.

When Thomas turned around, a beautiful, light-skinned girl hugged and kissed him on the cheek. She had brown eyes, and her long, dark hair was braided. Her tunic was green and she wore a pendant with a bejeweled mantis around her neck.

Thomas didn't know how to react. The girl held him tightly until Odin separated them. “What did I just say?” he told her.

“But...” the girl said, and Odin scolded her.

“Not a word!” he said. “Especially from you!”  For good measure, Odin looked at Thomas directly. “You also,” he told him. “Not a word.”

The girl looked at Thomas desperately; Thomas gauged her age to be around fifteen or sixteen. She opened her mouth, and Odin lifted a finger. “Not one!” he told her again. “Now leave.”

The girl seemed angry, ready to talk back, but Odin bit his lip and the girl held back her words as the room grumbled with the sounds of a brewing storm.

“Leave!” Odin rumbled and the sound of thunder filled the hall. “All of you! Leave now!” He walked toward his throne.

All of the Aesir except the Queen made their way out. The girl threw one last glance at Thomas before she left.

“Good luck,” Ratatosk whispered as he climbed down from Thomas, but before he could make an escape, Odin called him.

“Not you, Ratatosk. You can stay,” he said, and Ratatosk flinched and froze in place.

The doors to the hall closed heavily. Thomas and his guide were alone with Odin and his Queen. Odin turned around to face them, centering his gaze on Ratatosk. “Tell me now, you misbegotten rat, why didn't Heimdall announce your coming? Why didn't you cross through Bifrost?”

The names ran in Thomas’s head—Heimdall, outlook for the Aesir and watchman of the rainbow bridge. The rainbow bridge's name was Bifrost, and that also brought up the name of Odin's wife, Frigg, mother of the Gods. He had also recognized, Thor, Loki, and Freijja, but he had been too nervous to concentrate on what he had read about the Norse Pantheon.

“We…uh... came through the Nornir Hall, my lord,”  Ratatosk said.

“The Nornir?” Odin asked. “And who opened the way for you?”

“Verðandi, my lord.”

“Verðandi…” Odin looked back at Frigg.

“That actually explains so much, my husband,” Frigg said from her throne.

Odin nodded. “It actually does,” he said, “but it creates more questions. Questions that need to be addressed right now and I can’t think on how to begin to address them.”

“Don't worry, my love,” Frigg said. “I can handle this conversation.”

Odin nodded while rubbing his bearded chin. “Go ahead, my lady,” Odin said, staring at Thomas. He then sat down heavily on his throne.

Frigg turned to Thomas. “What is your name?” she asked.

“My name is Thomas Byrne, your highness,” he said, bowing.

“Welcome to Asgard, Thomas Byrne,” she said. “We are pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said.

“We would like to know about you,” Frigg told him. “Please tell us your story.”

“Is that really necessary?” Odin leaned toward Frigg. He seemed a little bit annoyed by the prospect of having Thomas talk about himself. Frigg gave him an admonishing look and Odin leaned back again on his seat.

“So…tell us, Thomas Byrne,” Frigg said. “Tell us all about you and why you come to Asgard.”

“Where should I start, my lady?” Thomas asked.

“At the beginning,” Frigg answered while Lord Odin sighed audibly.

Thomas took a deep breath and began to speak.

The Rod of the Aesir

After what seemed like an hour, Thomas felt that he had covered most of the time he had worked as a Guardian. Unlike at the Halls of Remembrance, where Mneme had just learned everything there was to know about him, this time Thomas felt that he had left so much unsaid. Talking was actually too limited, too slow. So many things were left unsaid, so many feelings that he would have liked to convey but couldn’t.

Lady Frigg listened attentively, and even asked questions here and there. She had been very interested about Killjoy and then about Tasha’s betrayal and the battle of Ormagra. Lord Odin, on the other hand, had lost interest immediately, and Thomas saw that he had even dozed off for a minute or two. Lady Frigg actually gave him a little slap on the hand to stop him from snoring.

Thomas had almost done the same to Ratatosk when he felt the grip of the squirrel softening once or twice. He didn’t want the squirrel to fall from his shoulder because he had put him to sleep.

Thomas reached the battle at Ethipothala Falls in his story, and Lord Odin suddenly showed signs of interest.

“Enough!” he said. He glanced at his wife. “I really don’t need to hear anymore, my lady. Do you?” he asked Lady Frigg.

“I think we have heard enough,” she said.

“You’re here about a sword,” Odin said. “A powerful sword, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “That’s how my grandfather has been tracking us, using Gram as a guide.”

“Gram!” Odin scoffed. “Gram is a husk, its real power depleted, its reason for being fulfilled, it is but a mere shadow of what it used to be under Sigurd!” Odin laughed. “I don't know how he got it though. We left it on Midgard along with many other trinkets.” He winked at Thomas. “At least we didn't leave sons and daughters around like those effete Olympians! I've heard that they still go to Midgard to...procreate. Self-indulgent slime! If I ever have the chance to meet again those decadent, degenerate...” The Hall grew dark and hot, mirroring the mood of Odin as he spoke. Thomas jumped as a flash of lightning bolted behind the throne.