Reality's Plaything 2: Neath Odin's Eye Page 2

  Bannor put the axe down and rubbed his stubble rough face with both hands. He looked around the hall at all the splendor. They were in the realm of gods certainly that made more things possible.

  “So what do I wish for?” Sarai asked.

  “What we need—I guess.”

  Wishes. That’s what started the whole thing, Hecate’s wish, his wish, Sarai’s… Now, Idun had a wish. A wish that promised to get them into more trouble than ever. Being at war with Hecate was bad enough. This promised to embroil a whole pantheon of gods. To go along was complete insanity.

  Then again, they really didn’t have a choice. Sarai’s mother and sister were trapped, along with their friends. They couldn’t abandon them, even if Idun would let them. He simply didn’t see how they could possibly rescue the others. Even if Sarai wished up an entire army. It came down to them, and whatever assistance Idun provided. True, Idun was one of the greatest of the Aesir, but she was one against many. Even if he and Sarai freed Wren and the others from Nifelheim, how would they stay out? Likely they’d all end up there, and Idun would share a cell with them.

  Sarai straightened, put aside the bow and sword, and went to the window. This antechamber looked over several courtyards that made up the inner ring of Idun’s fortress. Further out, gold spires rose above the domes and buttresses that formed the outer walls. Even during the day, stars burned in the sky like white embers. All the colors were so bright that it made his eyes ache. Men and women astride dragons, winged horses, and griffins flew patterns around the highest parapets. Armored guards in the tabards of a hundred nations patrolled the lower battlements.

  Sarai turned and looked at him. “Look at all this. Why us? You don’t have your power, and me—” She bit herself off. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  He massaged her shoulders. “Idun thinks we have some special quality that’ll help us beat impossible odds. She just doesn’t realize we used up all our luck surviving the last fight.”

  Sarai sighed and nodded. “We must try and do something. So, what should we start with?”

  Bannor shrugged. “Clothes, supplies, armor, weapons. I imagine we can have our pick of mounts.” He watched riders on griffins sail by. “What we’ll need most are people who know the way.”

  “The thing we really can’t wish for—” She pursed her lips. “Allies.”

  He put his arms around her again and sniffed her hair. She didn’t smell like the Sarai he remembered, and not as good, they hadn’t found a place to bathe yet. “I think Idun has something in mind.”

  “Probably,” Sarai agreed. She took a breath, and handed him all the equipment she’d conjured, and pulled him toward the doorway. “Let’s go.”

  “Where to?”

  “Back to our rooms. If I’m going to fight gods in the morning, I’ve got some selfish wishes I want to make first. Starting with a bathtub and some hot water. If I have to die, I want to at least look presentable.”

  Three bells passed quickly. Bannor found Sarai’s wish for a hot tub of mineral water admirably inspired. Sliding into the pleasantly warm waters next to his beloved was a welcome diversion. He was still adjusting to the new Sarai, he experienced a reflexive self-consciousness around her. Sarai noted the space that he put between them, however unintentional, and was quick to wrap herself around him and get reacquainted. She wished up a cask of Malanian fire wine and they sipped, soaked and cuddled. With the wine to loosen him up it wasn’t hard for Sarai to make him pliable. She knew him well, and while she might not be pleased with her new body, she had endowments aplenty to arouse him. Their lovemaking was gentle and unhurried. The experience all the more pleasurable after having weeks of nothing but fear and pain.

  When one of Idun’s servants came to fetch them for night sup they were both still splashing in the tub, an arsenal of armor, weapons, and supplies piled around the room like spoils from a war.

  They both froze at the sight of the stiff looking man with a scar blotched face and red hair. The gent cleared his throat and adjusted his green tunic. When he spoke it was with a cracked voice. “The lady awaits your company.”

  For some reason Bannor found the man’s serious demeanor funny. He let out a laugh before he could stop himself, which started Sarai giggling. Bannor forced himself under control. “Tell her maj-us-ty” He blinked to bring the man back into focus. “We’ll be along—presh-untly.”

  The servant frowned. “Very well.” He marched out.

  The urge hit him again and Bannor laughed. He didn’t know why it was funny, but it hit him that way.

  Sarai chuckled with him, then whistled. She ran a hand through the dark waves of her hair, amber eyes glazed with inebriation. “Oooh, I think—” she picked up her glass from the edge of the scalewood tub, swirled the crimson liquid around, leaned back and took a sip. “I think—” she slurred. “I think I made this stuff—too strong.”

  “No?” He grinned. “Really?”

  She smiled back. “Really. You know—sitting at goddess’ table—half drunk, isn’t one—isn’t one of our better plans.”

  “What? Whole thing makes me want to get drunk. She’s going to get us killed. It’s South-war all over again, and we’re the fresh meat.”

  “Uh hmmm.” She took another sip, then held the glass up. “Better stop. I drink anymore, I won’t be able to walk.”

  “Sure you can now?” He pushed himself up out of the water. “I’m not. Oh arrgh.” He felt twinges from his side and from his numerous bruises and contusions. With effort he supported himself against the waste high tub. A chilly fortress draft hit him like a sharp smack on the butt. His skin prickled. “Ie ie ie, we don’t have anything to dry off with.”

  “Yesh we do,” Sarai pointed to a chair. A pair of thick towels sparkled into being folded over the back. “Hand me mine, will you.”

  “Cheater,” he mumbled padding across the cold flags, wrapping himself in one and returning with Sarai’s. “You going to wish us some clothes too?”

  “Uh hmmm.” She replied, taking another sip from the glass she’d just said she shouldn’t drink any more from. She pointed and his towel vanished to be replaced by a fine royal blue tunic and cyan-colored breeches. Soft doe-skin boots sheathed his feet. At the same time he’d been outfitted with a full array of jewelry, rings on half-a-dozen fingers, amulets, he even felt something in his ear.

  “What’s all this?” He tugged at his ear finding that he indeed had something there as well. He walked up to the tub, lifted her out, and wrapped her in the towel.

  “Sh-tyle,” she slurred again. “You’re the One of a daughter of Malan, you might as well look the part for once.”

  He chuckled. “As her ladyship wishes.”

  She staggered a little and leaned against him. “We wish, dammit. You’re—you’re a good looking—man. You never—never dress like it.” She blinked. “Mom thought—thought you were a bloody—beggar.”

  He sniffed. “Just like to dress comfortable that’s all.”

  Sarai ran a hand through her hair and looked around the room like she didn’t recognize anything. “You know—I really am drunk. Don’t remember getting so—dosed—this easy.”

  “Different body darling. Meliandri was a Healer. I heard the southland Healers made their members keep their bodies pure.”

  “Pure? Whatever—don’t like it. Didn’t stop her—stop her from eating too damn much. And what in Hades were these all about?” She dropped her towel and put her hands under her breasts and cupped them up. “What kind of breeding put these monsters on an Elf?”

  He admired the displayed cleavage with a smile. “Don’t know, but that’s some fine evolution you got there.”

  “Humph. You don’t have to sleep with them.”

  “Oh, yes I do, and I look forward to it every night.”

  She shot him a withering glance. “You man.”

  “Guilty.”

  Sarai wished a blue gown onto herself that matched the colors of his tunic. The neck-line was high, probably to spite him. She fixed her hair and arrayed herself as he’d seen her do for court before the King of Malan.

  “Now, if you can get me down the hall. I’ll try not to make a spectacle of myself.”

  “My Star,” he gave her a hug and a kiss. “I love all of you; even your spectacles.”

  She laughed and hugged him back. Together they wobbled down the hall to hear Idun’s plans for them, and the how they would rescue prisoners kept in the land of the dead.

  * * *

  All I’ve ever been able to say about otherworldly creatures is that they are a pain. Literally. Despite my growing power as a savant, there was always some creature meaner and badder than me who was more than willing to make me regret being born. I have the scars to prove it.

  —Bannor Nalthane Starfist

  Chapter 2

  Dinner With a Deity

  « ^ »

  Bannor assisted Sarai into a chair near the head of a gigantic banquet table. Idun’s dining area was a feast hall large enough to host a small army. Polished rosewood paneling covered the walls. Pelts of broadpaw and blackhorn decorated the floors. A huge granite and iron hearth blazed with a ten-log fire.

  Idun, now dressed in blue shift instead silver robes, sat at the head of the table. She looked smaller than she normally did, about Sarai’s size. She’d braided her golden hair, and the only adornment she wore was an intricate gold amulet. Though she looked like a normal person, the aura around her left no mistaking her identity as a pantheon lord. Bannor’s skin tingled and the air around the lady was heavy with her presence.

  Finished seating Sarai, Bannor pulled up his chair, acutely aware of Idun’s attention and the way she studied them from the instant they wobbled into the room. She sat in silence, hand idly caressing
a small box made of what looked like onyx.

  Bannor saw no-one else besides the goddess, not even serving staff. Dinner had already been served. Two steaks of different kinds of meat, boiled vegetables, and sliced fruit awaited them on large porcelain plates. Thick pewter goblets filled with something red sat at their right hand. Steaming loaves of three different kinds of bread lay on wood cutting boards at the middle of the table. The palatable aromas that wafted from their plates made his stomach growl. Though his tongue felt thick from the liquor, his mouth watered at the prospect of eating something other than bread and cheese. Over a tenday had passed since he or Sarai ate anything more substantial than trail rations.

  Two place settings across from them had been served as well, the chairs pushed back and conspicuously empty. He assumed those empty seats signified something, but he wasn’t sure exactly what.

  The fire made the only sounds in the room. Idun only looked at them. Bannor’s skin prickled. Thoughts of being trapped darted through his mind. He noticed Sarai sat rigid in her chair taking deep breaths. She hated to look foolish in front of anyone, much less a goddess.

  Idun put an elbow on the table and leaned her head on her fist. “You two are intoxicated,” she determined.

  Sarai let out a choked sound. She didn’t meet the goddess’ eyes. Bannor stared into the fire. He braced himself to be yelled at, or reprimanded, or whatever Idun might do.

  Silence. The fire crackled. His heart thudded. Sarai breathed unevenly. Somewhere far off, a spoon rattled in a bowl.

  Idun closed her eyes and rubbed a temple with a knuckle. “Why are you two drunk? Don’t you think this mission is important?”

  Bannor’s breath caught. The fact Idun did not raise her voice seemed to emphasize her disappointment. He felt the goddess’ emotion and it made him icy inside.

  Sarai straightened. “We do!” She said it louder than necessary, and her voice cracked. “It’s just—” She paused and her dusky features flushed.

  “Just—?” Idun prompted. The goddess glanced at him by way of explanation. Even a simple glance felt like being pricked with a needle.

  He winced. “Majesty.” He measured his words. “We—” He swallowed. “We’ve been through a—great deal. Now, well—” He couldn’t go on, her green eyes were boring holes in him.

  “Now—?” The goddess prompted again.

  “Now,” Sarai picked up. “We’re getting ready—ready to go out and die.” She caught her breath, perhaps surprised by what she’d blurted out.

  Idun displayed remarkably little of the temper the legends attributed to gods. If Sarai’s statement offended her, it didn’t show on the doll-like perfection of the goddess’ face. She seemed to be reflecting on Sarai’s statement.

  Idun frowned and said in a dry tone, “So, you figured to have a last coupling and throw back a few before marching to your doom?”

  Sarai looked like a blackhorn caught in the beam of a hunter’s lantern. She nodded.

  Idun turned to him for confirmation.

  He closed his eyes. He head ached. “A fair assessment, Majesty.”

  Bannor felt Idun staring at him. The noise she made, startled him.

  She laughed.

  Hearing the sound, he called it a ‘laugh’. It was more than sound. He’d heard Hecate ‘laugh’, she had been expressing scorn and derision. Idun definitely found his statement funny. Perhaps it was because immortals weren’t often amused, that it had such a transforming affect. Everything seemed to reverberate with the goddess’ mirth. Colors seemed brighter, the heaviness in the air dissipated, even the smells grew stronger and more appealing. The tension thrumming through him dissipated, and warmth started in his middle and spread through his limbs.

  “Mortals.” The goddess chuckled and shook her head. “Eat! The food is growing tepid.”

  Sarai looked stunned. “Majesty? You aren’t angry?”

  Idun picked up a fork and looked askance at her. “Not yet.” She chewed a fork full of food, and sipped from her goblet. “I felt my magic being used. I trust at least some of it was productive?”

  Sarai reddened. “Yes, Majesty, thank you.”

  Idun picked up her knife and gestured with it. “You two know the use of a fork, do you not?”

  They both nodded.

  “Do so, then. I’ll not eat while you two simply sit there watching.”

  Bannor took his fork. Sarai did likewise, only she switched the fork to her left hand. A “court” mannerism she’d tried to teach him. She’d also patiently explained which utensils were for a particular food. When he was young, the only rule at the dinner table was no eating until after the prayers were finished. That, and stabbing one another with forks was frowned on. Something Bannor did once after his big brother kept stealing food from his plate.

  Prayers. It seemed seasons since he said a prayer. Odin, the god he prayed to, wanted to imprison him in Niflheim. It put all his beliefs in a different perspective. Believing in a god and worshiping them is one thing. Being chased by avatars, and assaulted by a god is quite another.

  Now, he was sitting at dinner with one of the most prominent of the Aesir. In a handful of tendays, he’d gone from being a lonely ranger living in a cabin in the mountains, to the suitor of Princess Sarai of Malan and slayer of the mad goddess Hecate; a man who walked in the company of gods, demi-gods, and avatars. It made his brain hurt.

  He tried not think at all and simply concentrated on the food in front of him. The meat was tender and savory. His cup contained a sweet red mead that fortunately wasn’t as strong as the fire wine he and Sarai had been drinking back in their rooms. For right now, he had real food, and that made his universe complete.

  For a while, there was nothing but the crackling of fire, the clink of silverware, and the occasional appreciative smack of the lips. Everything on his plate, while simple, had excellent flavor. He expected the goddess to be jaded about the food at her own table, but surprisingly, she appeared to appreciate the fine faire as much as either he or Sarai. He guessed his initial surmise was correct. An immortal had no need for food, so they probably only ate for pleasure or as a gesture of some kind.

  Idun broke the silence. “What I know of you two is limited to what my senses and scrying have told me.” She sipped from her goblet and looked at Sarai. “I know you are third for a throne, in the Freyr-kin land of Malan. Your Mother is a wilder mage married into the noble house for the magic in her blood. I know my daughter Euriel visited with her quite often a century or so ago.” Idun paused. “I can only describe their relationship as competitive.”

  Sarai had been in mid-bite at the last of Idun’s words and fumbled her fork. She laughed. “Competitive. That is one word for it.” She let out a breath. “They were always trying to outdo one another. Your daughter is very—” Sarai paused. “Aggressive.”

  Idun shrugged. “She has Aesir blood. We are warriors.”

  Bannor remembered how Kalindinai hadn’t wanted to appear weak in front of Euriel. They had fought for more than an hour against Hecate’s demons outside a small walled village. The Elf queen had fought with admirable courage and endurance, but like most of them had finally been worn down by the number of opponents. Euriel though, looked invigorated by the long battle rather than exhausted like the rest of them.

  “I can attest to that,” Bannor agreed. “She was ready for more fighting when the rest of us were down.”

  “Aesir thrive on conflict,” Idun said. “Without it they feel empty.”

  “There is something I don’t understand,” Sarai said. “Everything I have ever read says that immortals cannot have children. You have Euriel. The pantheons have many fathers and mothers and their descendants.”

  Idun swirled the mead around in her goblet. “A coupling between pureblood immortals cannot create children, but by sacrificing part of our power we can create kin from out of our flesh. Male gods can sire in a female mortal, and mortal men can sire in a goddess.” The Lady’s voice became wistful. “Halfbloods are fertile among themselves and immortals.”

  The way she said ‘halfblood’ suggested to Bannor that the progeny of human/immortal couplings didn’t get a warm reception in the pantheons. It gave Bannor the disturbing notion that Odin’s sending Euriel and the others to Niflheim might have motivations besides meting justice over the death of a goddess.