Empty Altars (35 page)

“Spears.” Tyr nodded. “Good thinking.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the meadow. Diana taught Asdis and her witches both offensive and defensive spells. Hermod alarmed everyone by speeding toward them on Woden’s eight-legged horse to deliver the shields Freya sent for—not the big, heavy ones reserved for gods, but made with dwarf metal strong enough to return any of Heid's attacks. Diana had asked for a favor, too, and Hermod brought two extra shields fitted with long straps to attach to Peta's massive torso.

"To protect your heart," Diana said, fastening them on him. "I want you to survive this, to go home to your family."

The dragon lowered his head in gratitude.

Diana turned her attention back to the witches. She taught them to slant their shields to bounce energy away from them, hopefully returning it toward their attackers.

While she worked with the witches, Tyr and Freya instructed the giants to make spears from tree trunks. They practiced combat moves with them until the giants performed a few basics by rote. When Diana's stomach growled, Tyr glanced at the sun. “Low in sky. Time for supper.”

As they headed toward the dining table, Diana smiled, pleased with the progress they'd made.

"You never got your rest," Tyr reminded her.

She yawned, bone tired. "I'll have Noir watch over Griswold while I sleep. If anything happens, he'll wake me."

"You're sure? Your cat doesn't seem eager to please."

"Noir has a mind of his own, but he's always there when I need him."

Tyr stopped them before they entered the longhouse. He lowered his voice. "This one time, I think it best we keep our plans to ourselves."

Freya frowned. "What are you saying? That we shouldn't tell Jorunda and Inga? They're our friends, our allies."

"Or Jon," Tyr said.

"Both warriors nearly died," Freya argued.

"And Inga's our apprentice." Diana trusted her. She trusted all three of them.

"It's for their good as well as ours. I'm beginning to believe one of the modern sayings, that
the walls have ears
. It wouldn't be hard to listen into our conversations once we're inside."

Diana thought of the hallways leading off the great room in the longhouse. Doorways lined them, and there were many storage areas. She nodded agreement. So did Freya.

When they reached the dining room, Jorunda, Jon, and Inga were already there. Jon was pale and held his left arm close to his side. Jorunda's face and arms were covered with scrapes and bruises. Inga looked tense. When the gods took their seats, servants carried soup and breads to the table.

Hlif came to stand before them, her eyes downcast, as though she were embarrassed. "I apologize, but Lord Griswold refused to allow us to cook meat for your meal. He said our supplies are low."

Tyr laughed, and Hlif looked up in alarm. "Your master can be petty, but it's nothing to us. We appreciate your offerings."

Face red, Hlif bowed and left.

Inga picked at her meal. "It's so uncomfortable here, not like I remembered it. When I was growing up, my family lived in a longhouse near the back fence. We worked outside the village in Griswold's fields, and our neighbors worked beside us. We all pitched in together."

"You were a child," Freya said. "Everything's simpler when you're young."

"Have you seen your family? Visited them?" Tyr asked.

"A few times. Things are stiff between us. Brittle."

"Aren't they happy your ban's lifted?" Diana assumed they'd be overjoyed, that it would be like raising a loved daughter from her deathbed, like rebirth.

"They're angry with me. They blame me for the way they were treated once I was banished, as though they'd contributed to my sins. Things have been hard for them."

"Maybe they should have helped you when you first came to them." Diana had no patience with a father and mother who thought little of a daughter's rape. Inga was no slave, who could be used as Griswold pleased.

"I think I was happier in my own little clearing," Inga said.

"By yourself?" Jorunda stared. "Don't tell me you miss your hut."

"It was mine," Inga told him. "And I didn't have to answer to anyone. There were no snide remarks, no intrigue. I miss the forest. I miss birdsong and solitude."

He put his hand over hers. "Will you be happy here? I'm a warrior. I'm bound to the village."

"My place is with you. I wouldn't change that."

Jorunda's shoulders relaxed slightly. "It's not usually like this here. Everything's tense now."

Jon nodded agreement. "This battle can't start soon enough for me. The waiting has put everyone on edge."

"Then it's time we had some diversion." Freya smiled cheerfully. "Surely there's someone who makes music, someone who plays an instrument."

Diana had to admire her friend. A diversion was exactly what everyone needed. Before their meal ended, three men entered, one carrying a bone flute, a second a set of pan pipes, and a third a hand harp. Soon, music filled the room. While everyone made merry, Diana made a point of yawning often. Soon, she rose and said, "I need sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

She silently walked down the hallway, Noir at her heels. She snuggled deep into her furs and waited. When no one followed her and the halls were quiet, she rolled two furs into the shape of her body and stuffed them under the others. Then she said her obscuring spell and melted from sight. She curled on top of her blankets and dozed while Noir stood watch.

It was pitch black when Noir nudged her face with his own. She woke instantly. Freya slept peacefully in her own bed. Snores came from the warriors' rooms. Barefoot, Diana tiptoed into the hallway. She heard other, slippered feet hurrying to Griswold's chamber.

Diana strained to see, but it was too dark. Griswold's door opened, and a candle silhouetted Hlif in flickering light. As she stepped over the chieftain's threshold, her body shifted. No longer was she an old woman. She was tall and breathtaking with long, auburn hair that fell to her waist. Her figure could rival Freya's. The door closed, and Diana heard soft murmurs on the other side.

Strong magic. Not many witches could conjure their images into something else. Diana began to wonder. Who was the stronger of the two witches—Heid or Hlif? She didn't intend to stand in the cold hallway and get caught spying. She hurried back to her room. She knew everything she needed to know. Hlif was their traitor.

Chapter 30

Tyr arrived at the longhouse early in the morning, and Diana greeted him at the door. She silently led him to her and Freya's room. Inga, Jorunda, and Jon were already there.

"Well? Did you learn anything last night?" he asked.

Diana told them about watching Hlif shift to enter Griswold's chamber.

Jorunda shook his head. “I’d never suspect Hlif. She cares too much for the people of the village. She’s devoted to her son and his wife and their children.”

Diana couldn’t hide her surprise. “Hlif’s married?” The old woman spent all of her hours at Griswold’s longhouse, as far as she could tell.

“Was married,” Jon said. “Her husband died when their son was still small.”

Diana frowned, confused. “Is she a slave or not?”

“A servant—still free.” Freya reached for Shadow and rubbed his chin absently. “If I remember right, she worried that she might lose her land, so took a position as head of Griswold’s household so that she’d have more security.”

A suspicion crossed Diana’s mind. “Did she have reason to blame Griswold for her husband’s death?” She thought of Snorri losing his farm and most of his family in a fire, so that he and his lovely daughter, Vigdis, were forced to work for the chieftain.

Tyr’s voice turned steely. “Soon after her husband was trampled by a horse,

Griswold claimed her lands—they bordered the sea. Said a woman and her baby son couldn’t manage them. By law, Hlif could have argued her case before the counsel and probably would have won, but instead, she agreed to work in Griswold’s household in exchange for her son remaining a freeman."

Diana sighed. “She knew Griswold was not to be trusted. She wouldn’t take any chances and sacrificed herself to save her little boy.”

“We’re forgetting one, important thing.” Tyr’s shoulders squared. “Hlif’s not just punishing Griswold. She’s betraying the entire village, including her own family.”

“Unless she’s made a deal with Heid, ensuring their safety. That’s what I’d do,” Freya said.

Inga waved away all of their arguments. “I don’t believe any of it. Hlif loves this village. She’d never do anything to harm it.”

Jorunda and Jon nodded agreement. “You don’t know Hlif,” Jorunda said. “I can’t believe she’s a traitor.”

“Then we’ll catch her at it,” Tyr said. “Diana caught her once. She’ll catch her again.”

“How?” Diana stared. “She only shifts when she visits Griswold’s chamber. I’m not hiding in his room to listen to their pillow talk.”

“You don’t have to.” Tyr turned his gaze to Freya. “We have a shapeshifter, too. Freya can disguise herself as Griswold and call Hlif to him.”

“Not Hlif.” Jon turned a thoughtful gaze on Diana. “The woman you described who entered Griswold’s bedchamber—the girl with long, auburn hair—is Hlif’s granddaughter.”

Diana raised a hand. She needed to think. “Something’s not right. We’ve come to a wrong conclusion. Why would Hlif disguise herself as her granddaughter to bed Griswold?”

“A good question, and we have a way to find an answer.” Tyr looked at Freya. “Jon and Jorunda are going to distract our chieftain, and you’re going to call Hlif’s granddaughter to your bedchamber. Diana and I will stay just outside the door. When Hlif shifts, call us.”

Freya asked, “Can I use Griswold’s guise after Diana gave him a wafer to eat? I thought that protected him.”

“From witchcraft magic,” Diana said with a smile. “I know nothing of seidre magic—your specialty. And you’re a goddess. That changes things.”

Freya smiled, too. “Then let’s catch our traitor. The sooner, the better.”

They made a quick plan, and everyone went to play their parts. For a diversion, Diana created the illusion of a fire in Griswold’s stables. Jon and Jorunda hurried to fetch the chieftain, and as slaves led horses into the courtyard and Jon and Jorunda fought the “fire,” Freya shifted into Griswold’s form and sent for Hlif’s granddaughter.

A short time later, Hlif opened the door to Griswold’s room. Just as she was in the middle of her shift, Tyr and Diana came up behind her, and Freya shifted into her true form before her.

Tyr spoke. "You have some explaining to do. We’ve been searching for a traitor, and we believe we’ve found one." He closed the door, trapping Hlif in the room.

“I’m no traitor.” Hlif’s chin rose. She stood before them as a young, beautiful woman. “I only shift to protect my granddaughter.”

“From what?” Freya demanded.

“Griswold.”

“She’s a free woman. He has no power over her.”

Hlif barked a sharp laugh. “You don’t know Griswold. My granddaughter would have no choice. I can spare her. Griswold has never once suspected he's grunting me."

Freya grimaced. The image of Griswold and Hlif together apparently didn't appeal to her.

"Are you a shifter?" Diana asked.

"No, my skill is conjuring, creating illusions, like my mother before me." Hlif waved a hand across her face, and her old crone visage returned, then fell away. Jorunda stared. “Which are you? Young or old?”

“Ageless.”

"Your mother was a witch?" Tyr asked.

"A powerful one. Aeons ago, she helped lead Griswold's warriors into battle. That was before we settled in the meadow—before we pledged ourselves to the gods."

Shocked, Diana turned to Tyr. "How long have these people lived here?"

"Their life spans are much longer than usual."

Diana pushed those thoughts aside to concentrate on Hlif's story. "What happened to your mother? Did she choose not to come to the meadow, to stay on earth with mortals?"

"No, she was killed in battle. A spear pierced her heart. She knew she was going to die that day, a premonition. Before she left, she made me promise not to let anyone know that I had magic, that I’d inherited her gift.”

Freya frowned. “Why?”

“Before we settled here, witches began to disappear from our people."

Diana put up a hand again. "Disappeared—how? Do you mean they left? They didn’t want to come to the meadow? Or they died?”

“I don’t know. I only know that my mother feared for me.”

“Was there a witches’ war? Did mortals hunt them down?”

Hlif shook her head. “I was very young. We lived in a longhouse far from the village. My mother said that we were no longer safe. That’s all I know.”

“Let me get this straight. This happened
before
you came to the meadow?"

"Yes."

"Everywhere in Norse lands?"