Master of Miasma (The Valhalla Series) (6 page)

Jævla! (Damn)

Annoyed with myself more than her I thunder back to the book, needing to read her past and her future to make sure I didn't make a mistake.

Arghin is already there reading it.

“Curious are you?” I snap, crowding him to examine her page.

He gives me the all knowing look, “You're going to very much like her truth.”

Choosing silence as a retort I start at the top, learning her lineage which goes all the way back to a
gýgjar who shacked up with a Thur. Wow, a giantess marrying a Thur only happened a handful of times. The Thur born female giants are rare indeed. If I can I must get her to tap into her bloodborne gift, hers should be mighty. She's a good ally, but if she unleashes these abilities on me I'll be dead before dawn. This little lady is going to have control over the elements and earth rarely witnessed.

Emma is a tru
e
Þ
urs, the original name given to the Thurs who were mightier than any of the ancient gods. She's a divine gift in the siege befalling us.

Scanning the page I glimpse her childhood, already knowing her father committed suicide after her mother rejected him, by OD'ing on a stash of thundereggs. If only she'd known him they might have found peace in each other.

Arghin taps the middle of her page which continues to write, “She's leaving. She's escaping!”

Jumping down the page, smiling at seeing the success of her Valhalla mark, I read her movements. Not waiting a second longer I bolt back down the chamber tunnel to intercept her.

Loki's kin are on their way. No one in this modern world recalls that Loki was a giant.

My lineage does not clash blood with hers as I'm a direct d
escendent of Skaði, who married Odin after her jötunn father was murdered. She is a giantess and it's because of Odin that we have the all-seeing eye. His symbol is the Raven, and when he lost his eye in a bargain he instead gained more wisdom and foresight.

The book of life is one of his legacies to his people. The book that takes a sacrifice so only truth will be told. The native Tlingit have a very similar tale and maybe I should tell the story to Emma so she will start to understand how deep this goes.

The last battle of our forefather Odin was in 1208, yet this world calls him a myth and legend. How short your horsefly memories are.

Stampeding into my bathroom I charge into the hidden corridor, smelling her perfume before I see the faint glow of my flashlight.

Emma, halt! You are in danger if you leave Jötunheimr.

Saying nothing I hold the shadows close, cloaked in invisibility to her untrained eyes, watching the lady stare hopelessly up at a dead end cavern filled to the ceiling with thundereggs.

My word, what an immense secret stockpile! This is the mercy we require in this time of strife. Now we'll be armed to the teeth with old worlde weapons when Eagle flies in from the north.

She sits down on the dirty floor, gulping dramatically as if she's trying to swallow down sorrow.

I drop the submissive shadows around me so the flashlight beam will highlight me.

She scrambles in fright. “Jesus Mac! You frightened the bejezus out of me!”

Mac eh? She's accepted me completely then, subconsciously at least.

“
There is a front door. I can take you to it if you want,” I offer, using the bland tone.

She simply stares guiltily at the empty space midway between our feet.

Stepping closer I offer her my hand, trusting the instinct of what I know and what I feel through our three sided palm promise. “It's late and only a fool goes wondering these woods at full moon on this night. It's the darkest night of the year, Emma.”

“
I know, but the snow hardly reaches this forest. Everything melts before it can touch the ground. You still have trees that haven't lost their leaves!”

That's our influence you silly girl.

“It doesn't matter,” I reiterate. “Please? Come back inside where it's safe.”

She puffs out her cheeks, staring at my proffered hand, finally relenting and grasping it.

Helping her to her feet I put my arm around her, “Come thaw at the fire and let me tell you stories.”

“
What stories? My dad?”

That's piqued her interest but I'm loathe to crush her hope by telling her the truth about Lars and how he escaped his misery.

“We'll cover them all. I want to share the skald tales with you so you'll understand why you're better than a human.”

She looks up at me, her long black hair bunching over my forearm while beguiling gray eyes stare their storm at me, “How do you do that thing with the dark? You nearly gave me heart failure.”

“My ancestors are Odin and
Skaði. Skaði translates literally as shadow, or shade. She gave her name to Scadi-navia, the place on earth owned by our brethren long before mankind spread like plague. It's my homeland, and thanks to her blood we control darkness. It's a long story which is hard to comprehend out of context,” I smile, enjoying the feel of her so warm against me.

“
Oh.” Looking apprehensive she glances at the opening to the bathroom a short distance from us. “Why not tonight? You made it sound like of all the nights not to go out, this one is it, but we were both outside earlier.”

“
Emma, that was well before midnight. Tonight is
Åsgårdsreia
.
Our ancestors run wild tonight between High Moon and daybreak.”

Allowing me to guide her to the doorway, she makes conversation with the trust of a child, “What is Asgardsreya
?”

“
The wild hunt, led by Odin. They gather all lost souls tonight which is why I need to keep you safe. You are a lost soul until you accept our kind as your own.”

That statement flitters fear across her face, it pales even more. “I thought Odin killed the giants.”

She's trying to distract herself the way she did earlier. The irony is she is afraid of her own fear. That's a mystery I intend to solve.

“
It's a falsehood. Then he'd have to have killed his wife, however he did murder her father which is probably where the tale originates,” I answer.

Letting her walk in first I take my time appreciating the grip of her jeans and the grace of her posture. She walks proud even when broken inside.

Chapter 8

Emma:

Macala guides me straight back to my dinner, pointing at it, “Sit and eat or you will offend me.”

“
I'm not hungry,” I whine, sitting in the chair that makes my feet dangle off the floor.

He holds up a finger indicating one sec, vanishes around the corner, and instantly returns with that bottomless jug of glitter juice.

Sitting opposite me he pours us each a measure and pushes mine across to me, “First things first. You...” he points at me with a long elegant finger, “...Are one of us. You are my kind of person and I am yours. We honor our ancestors when we eat together. Tonight we have stew, it is the meal of friendship and welcome... why?”

“
How am I supposed to know why?” I demand, feeling victimized.

“
Because it is the warrior feast. I am a warrior, you are a warrior. It's what we are. Every night in Valhalla, the
real
Valhalla, the chef to the gods serves this to the warriors who have fallen under the blade. We eat to remember those of us who have died, and in gratitude we eat with them and each other by consuming from the cauldron Eldhrímnir. See?”

He lifts his drink, toasting me, “Welcome home, Emma. Long may we eat Sæhrímnir as friends.”

Pulling the remnants of his meal toward him he lifts the spoon and swallows the tepid morsel, indicating I must do the same.

Sighing heavily I drop my bag on the floor and exchange it for my spoon, scooping up stew and nibbling on it.

It's still delicious even half cold.

“
Good,” he nods. “Now everywhere you go with the
Jötunn we call the chef the same name. We call him Andhrímnir, or just Andi for short. It is respect because he re-enacts keeping the gods alive by feeding us our daily meals. We are still gods Emma, even if the world would refuse to believe we exist. One look at me and you cannot deny that I am not a human man. I am different, my eye alone is proof. We
are
different, and proud to be because we are one unit; we work as one, we live as one, we share as one.”

I could listen to him talk all night. His personality is coming through now and it's mesmerizing to watch him tell his story with his face lighting up with lore.

“What is Sayrimner?” I ask, just so he'll keep talking while I dutifully finish my supper.

“
It is a mythical beast which the chef kills every night to feed the gods and warriors, and then in the morning he resurrects him. It's very symbolic of us, as a people. At night we may be weary and broken but come morning we will rise strong as ever and ready to die another day.”

“
If it's mythical why then do you say we are eating it?”

“
Have you ever seen a golden apple?” he counters.

“
No, because they don't exist. It's an old Greek story of men with their dicks out trying to prove they're better than everyone else.”

He taps my wine glass with the handle of his spoon, “Then pray tell wise woman what it is in your chalice?”

“No, fucking, way!”

“
Yes way, Emma. We hide our treasures from the greedy because they do not honor the ancestors.”

“
Are you saying I'm eating a mythical beast for dinner?”

“
No, you're not, because the Harii are now vegetarians the way they were in many previous ages.”

“
What's a hurri?” I ask, curiously taking another sip of my exalted apple juice.

“
The raven clan are harii. It's the old norse term for warrior in black. The humans believed we painted ourselves black and attacked like ghosts in the night purely because they cannot imagine that we control the shadows around us. We lay siege at nightfall so we go undetected, the shadows and shade are our ally thanks to our firstmother. They likened us to phantoms, they often thought we were dead. How very wrong they were.”

“
So we're like scary motherfuckers or something?” I grin.

“
Our wars are not theirs until they make it ours. There is no secret we cannot know thanks to Odin's gift of foresight, and there is nothing which can cause us alarm. We are fearless which is why your state of mind concerns me. It's most unnatural for a harii to lose the courage in their heart. When your light goes out the Valkyries take you away so you may rest in the arms of the forever.”

“
You sound all new age with your inner light analogy,” I smile, trying to lighten the severity of his words.

He sits back, fiddling with the drinking vessel in his hands, “Emma, why do you think we need shadows to hide us? We shine more brightly than the sun. We are giants first, we are all
Jötunn
. We are split into sects as warriors and ours is harii, the Raven clan. But our ancestor Skaði was known as the shining bride of the gods. The jötnar share this characteristic with her and we are known as the beautiful shining ones. But all of our kin are fighters. We are fierce and fearless even if the planet pretends we are mythical because we do not allow them to witness us. Why do you think the Wild Hunt was considered the amusement of fairies? But we are not glowing faeries, we are the biggest men on this planet with knowledge and power the puny humans couldn't possibly wield or comprehend. When I say you are shining it's because in your eyes it is waiting to birth, all it requires is happiness in your heart.”

I don't know what to say. Have I truly never ever been happy? Then how will I know it when I am?

He reaches out to hold my hand in his, “My eye shines for you. I will guide you until you find your way. Now drink your  læraðr juice. It heals in more ways than one. We drink it for mental courage while it keeps our bodies forever young. It's the libation of eternal life. With that in your body you'll quickly forget your woes and remember how powerful you truly are, like when you were a child who knew that anything was possible and the world was a pearl of possibilities waiting for you to string onto your necklace and own. This world is ours, Emma.”

I leave my hand in his because it's doing crazy good things to my mood, picking up my drink with motivation and having a decent swig.

“It really is magic?” I smile, putting my glass back on the table.

“
It is arcana, I mentioned that previously. Arcana, by definition, is a secret and powerful remedy. It's a great rune of nature, our secret.”

“
And what is a rune exactly? I thought is was just a bunch of wooden discs with carvings on them,” I pry.

“
A rune is a
secret
. We are the masters of runes, we keep many of them well hidden and safe. Ourselves included.”