“The goddess Frigga!” Bardi said. “Wife of the Allfather!”
Alrik pursed his lips as he looked me over.
“Not you too,” I said.
To my surprise, he grinned. “I was wondering what I’d done to deserve such jealousy on my behalf, but I decided I didn’t care. It was enjoyable, although I would warn you that it isn’t wise to cross Aesir. Their memories are long, and their retribution can sometimes take centuries to be exacted.”
“Lovely.” My shoulders slumped a little, but Alrik took my hand and pulled me along to the silver building, distracting me from the pity party I was about to launch.
Odin waited…and with him, all my hopes of life with Alrik.
Twelve
F or those of you who hope to someday visit Asgard, I have a tip: The doorman who guards Valaskialf can be bribed to allow you entrance. He likes gold, but practically wets his pants with happiness when given Gargoyles sunglasses.
“That was easier than I thought,” I said as we entered the main hall.
I came to an abrupt stop, blinking, as stunned as Alrik and the others by the sight before us.
“Good Lord, it’s like some sort of disco palace! The place is wallpapered with mirrors!”
“I like it,” Torsten said, striking a pose in front of one of the walls. He admired himself from all angles while the rest of us wandered around the room. It was empty of all furniture, not a huge place, certainly no bigger than the local grange back home, but at least three stories tall, with tiny palmsize mirrors covering the walls. The light reflected upward gave the feeling of vast, never-ending spaciousness.
“Where’s Odin?” I asked in a hushed voice. There was a vaguely cathedral feeling about the place.
“There is a door,” Alrik answered, pointing. We proceeded over to it en masse, although Bardi had to go back and forcibly pull Torsten away from his reflection.
The noise hit us first when Alrik opened the door. After the brilliantly lit mirror hall, the dark room before us gaped like some horrible maw. The blast of noise slowly resolved itself into sounds from several sources. Light flickering from one side of the room served as the only source of illumination, but it was enough to make out the giant gold-colored recliner centered in the room, and the figure of a man seated upon it, legs crossed.
“Have you ever watched Chinese opera?” the man—who could only be Odin—asked without turning his head. He pointed to the wall opposite and pressed a button on a remote. One of the approximately twenty plasma TVs changed from a scene of Hong Kong to Chinese opera. “It’s fascinating. I particularly like the ones where they fight. The Chinese have always put on a good show. Or perhaps football is more to your taste? Brazil is playing Spain today.”
The noise from one of the TVs grew in volume as one of the two teams playing soccer made a goal, sending the crowd and announcer into a screaming frenzy.
“You must be Odin. We’re sorry to disturb you, but we’ve come on a mission,” I said, one eye on the wall of televisions. Each showed a different channel from a number of different countries, from Martha Stewart to an X-rated channel that featured two women in French maid costumes whipping a man with bunches of celery.
“Are you on a mission from God?” Odin asked, turning his head to look us.
The supreme god of the Norse appeared to be in his sixties, with short, spiky gray hair. One eyelid was closed and slack, indicating the loss of an eye.
I shook my head, confused.
“Don’t watch the Blues Brothers?” Odin asked, and sighed before returning his attention to the televisions. “A shame.”
“You know about the Blues Brothers?” I asked, more surprised than ever.
“Old and new. I have all the movie channels here,” he answered proudly. “I liked the Belushi-Aykroyd version the best. Can’t go wrong with the classics, I’ve always said.”
“Yeah, but TV…” I stopped, not wanting to get into a discussion of what I felt an ancient, powerful god should be doing with his time.
A short, harsh laugh burst from him. “Don’t look so surprised. This is Hlidskialf, my golden throne. From it I watch the happenings in Midgard.”
Midgard, I assumed, meant the rest of the world.
Alrik stepped forward, kneeling before Odin. The other Vikings followed suit. “Almighty Odin, we come before you to seek your assistance in a matter of great importance.”
“If you’ve come about Frigga’s idiotic demand that I move Asgard, you’re wasting your time. I like it here. Every day, I go out and watch Pippi play. There are other people around, but that doesn’t bother me. Pippi enjoys them. She has such pretty red hair.”
Alrik peered at me from the corner of his eye. I shrugged. It was apparent that Odin was several bananas short of a bunch. “We do not come from Lady Frigga,” Alrik said. “It is for my own sake that we appear before you. I am Alrik Sigurdsson.”
Odin glanced down at him for a moment. “Sigurd’s son, eh? Now there was a fool. Got himself murdered over a woman.” He shook his head. “I told him not to look upon that hussy Brynnhilde, but he wouldn’t listen. Had a lust for her, he did, but I knew how it would end. She was a bad one. So you’re his boy, eh? And you’ve got a woman, too. Take a word of advice—don’t wed her. Once you’re wed, they spend eternity nagging you to do things you’d rather not do.”
Alrik stood and held out his hand for me. I thought lovingly of smacking Odin upside his head as I took it, but kept myself in control.
“Brynna is my wife, Lord Odin. She has done much to free me from the curse the witch Brynnhilde laid upon me. It is because of that curse that we have come to Asgard.”
Odin examined me with his one pale gray eye. “Valkyrie, eh? I don’t remember seeing you.”
“I’m not a Valkyrie yet. At least Momo Hildi says so, but she didn’t explain how I’m supposed to be officially recognized. We were hoping you—”
Torsten and Jon hooted, and we all turned to look at them, surprised by the noise.
“Sorry,” Torsten said with an embarrassed glance as he waved toward one of the TVs. “Italy just scored against Germany. They’re tied now.”
“Really? I have money on Italy.” Odin leaned to the side to look around Alrik. “I like the German team this year, but they don’t hold a candle to the Italians. Oh, well played!”
“We’d like you to pardon Momo Hildi,” I said loudly, to get Odin’s attention again. “I’m sorry to disturb your TV time, but this is very important, and it shouldn’t take long. If you could just—”
“No,” Odin said, then prodded Alrik. “Move to the left, boy. I can’t see the shopping channel, and it’s almost time for Southwestern Silver Earring Hour.”
Alrik drew out his sword, holding it upright as he moved directly in front of Odin.
“My lord Odin, I come before you bearing Gram, the sword you gave to my grandfather. I have sworn upon this sword to obtain your pardon for the witch Brynnhilde, and I will not leave your presence without it!”
Odin eyed the sword for a moment. “Gram, eh? Reforged a few times, I see. So Brynnhilde is making your life a misery. I told Sigurd what would happen if he gave in to his lust for her, but would he listen? They never listen, mortal men. What a waste that was. She killed him, you know. Brynnhilde. Always knew it would end that way. Women, tch. So she cursed you?”
“And my men,” Alrik said, waving to the others, who were all now engrossed in the televisions. “Brynnhilde has agreed to lift the curse so we might serve you in Valhöll, but to do that, you must pardon her.”
Odin pursed his lips. My fingernails dug into my palms as I held my breath. What would I do if he said yes? Alrik and the others would march off to Valhalla, and I’d be left with a shattered heart.
To my intense relief, Odin shook his head. “Can’t do it. I had to punish Brynnhilde. She deprived Valhöll of Sigurd. I told her I’d find her another warrior, but you know how women are. Because of her, I lost the best warrior. Can’t pardon her
for that. Wouldn’t be right. Besides, she refused to do her duties.”
I squeezed Alrik’s hand, leaning into him to offer my support. I felt horrible at rejoicing in the fact that the curse wouldn’t be lifted, riddled with guilt over the fact that I’d put my own needs before his happiness. What sort of person was I that I could do that? Guilt prompted me to speak when my heart begged me to be silent.
“Is there some way you can get around the curse so Alrik and the others can go to Valhalla?”
“Can’t go against someone’s curse,” he said, and my heart lightened. He eyed me again, a speculative look dawning. “You’ve got the look of an intelligent woman. You’re her issue, eh?”
“Yes. I thought she was my great-grandmother, but obviously there are a few more generations in there.”
“You’re a Valkyrie, then. If you want Sigurd’s son to go to Valhöll, you can take them.”
“We tried. We couldn’t enter,” Alrik said.
“Was that another goal?” Odin asked, trying to peer around Alrik.
“Penalty kick for charging Italy. They missed,” Bardi answered.
“Odin, please—” Tears spilled down my cheeks. My heart was breaking, but Alrik’s happiness was more important. “Can’t you do something to allow them into Valhalla? They’ve suffered for so long, and Momo Hildi isn’t going to lift the curse unless you pardon her. You’re our last hope.”
Odin sighed dramatically, waving a hand toward me. “Never could resist a woman’s tears. Very well, I will pardon Brynnhilde.”
“Thank you,” I said, more miserable than I thought humanly possible.
“On the condition that you take her place as a Valkyrie.”
I looked up, startled. “Um…all right. I’m not quite hip to all that the job entails, but I’ll do my best.”
“Good. You can start with him.” Odin nodded at Alrik. “Since Brynnhilde deprived me of the greatest mortal warrior, I will take his son instead. Brynnhilde!”
The air beside Alrik shimmered for a moment; then a woman appeared. It was Momo Hildi as she had been in her prime, standing tall and proud, her long braids shining brightly in the glow of the TVs.
“Odin Allfather,” she said, bowing to him.
“Your issue and Sigurd’s son have pleaded your case before me. I have graciously decided to grant them the request.”
She inclined her head, a smug smile visible. “I am ready to serve you again.”
For the first time, Odin smiled. It wasn’t a very pleasant smile at all, and I was aware that although he might appear to be an ordinary man, he possessed hidden depths of power. “I’m sending you to Niflheim. Brynna will be taking your place.”
Momo’s head snapped up, her eyes furious. “You what? I will never allow—”
Odin raised his hand, and in a voice as loud as thunder declared, “Receive my pardon, Brynnhilde, formerly of the Valkyries. Go in peace to Niflheim.”
“Noooooooo!” Momo’s wild screech echoed off the walls long after Odin waved a hand and sent her away.
Alrik’s men gathered around him, cheering as they congratulated one another.
“Come forward, issue of Brynnhilde,” Odin commanded.
I took a step forward, unable to look at the man who stood beside me.
“I recognize you as a Valkyrie. Your first duty will be to escort Sigurd’s son and his men to Valhöll. Return to me after, and I will bestow upon you the full power of the Valkyries.”
“Thank you,” I said, my head bowed. I couldn’t stand to see the joy on Alrik’s face as he finally received what he most wanted. I hurried out of the room, the sound of happy chatter following me. Tears blinded me as I stumbled out of the mirror room, retracing the path to Valhalla.
Alrik called my name, but I ignored it. I had done what I had sworn to do—I would take Alrik to Valhalla; then I would crumple up into a tiny ball and die of a broken heart.
I stopped in front of the double doors, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I am Brynna, recognized by Odin as a Valkyrie. I bring to Valhalla brave warriors who deserve a place in your halls.”
The doors opened. Torsten shouted with happiness and ran through the doorway, Jon and Grim following right behind him. They disappeared, and I knew they had finally found their reward.
Bardi smiled at me before he, too, entered the building.
Tears burned my eyes as Alrik hesitated. He was looking at Valhalla with an expression of longing that destroyed that last little shred of hope that he might choose me over heaven.
“Go on,” I said, my voice choked and thick. “They’re waiting for you.”
He flashed a grin at me and walked through the doorway, disappearing from my life forever.
I stared out at the soft, balmy night, listening gloomily to the sounds of night animals as they hurried about their business. A bird called out suddenly, and stopped. A cat yowled in the distance. Even the cigarettes I’d bought on the way back home didn’t appeal to me. Nothing did.
Inside the farmhouse, Aunt Agda’s voice was audible as she ranted about Odin’s choosing me to take Momo Hildi’s place over her.
“It’s my right! I should have been next, not her!”
Paul’s mother, Pia, was in with her, soothing her as best she could.
“Now she will be immortal! I will wither and die, and she will go on! This is not fair! This is not just!” A door slammed, shaking the veranda beam I was leaning against.
A few moments later, the screen door opened softly behind me. Pia touched my shoulder. “You are a very brave woman, Brynna. I am pleased that Odin recognized this, and rewarded you for it.”
A hot tear welled and burned its way down my cheek. Aunt Pia didn’t see it in the darkness.
“Oh, yes, I’ve been rewarded,” I said, my heart contracting painfully.
“It is so. You are immortal now. You will never know disease, or old age, or death,” she said, her voice soft in the night air.
And I will never know love, or happiness, or a moment’s peace without Alrik. Another tear burned its way into existence. I was surprised that I had any tears left, after having spent the time since I’d returned from Odin sobbing into a pillow. I felt raw inside, as if someone had taken a knife and cut out all the important parts of me, leaving nothing but a bleeding, hollow shell.
I will spend eternity without Alrik. I’d been keeping that thought at bay as best I could, but at last it pierced me with a pain so intense, I crumpled to the floor.
“Brynna? Brynna, are you all right? She just collapsed! Poor thing, she must be exhausted after all the excitement. Put her over there, on the sofa. I’ll get some water…”
Hands lifted me. I curled into a ball, sobbing silently, feeling like I would shatter into a million pieces from the pain.
“What is wrong? Are you ill? Have you hurt yourself?” a voice asked as I was placed on the sofa at the far end of the veranda. “Käresta? Can you hear me?”
Käresta?
My heart gave a lurch as I uncurled myself, spinning around to look at the man who loomed over me, a worried expression on his face.
“Alrik? What are you doing here?”
The worried look changed to one of mild irritation. “I am trying to find my wife. Why did you leave me? Why did you run away?”
I blinked at him, absolutely confused. “I didn’t leave you. You left me. What are you…” Hope flooded me, pushing out the pain that threatened to destroy me. “You thought I left you?”
“I know you left me. When I came out of Valhöll, you were gone. I went back to the hotel room, but you weren’t there, either. I did not know where you had gone until I called your cousin, who suggested you had come here. Why did you leave me? Do you not want me anymore? Have you withdrawn your love? What have I done to anger you?”
He left Valhalla? He’d been looking for me? “My God, Alrik! I was sitting here contemplating suicide because I thought…because you went…I didn’t think I’d ever see you again—”
“You are my wife,” he said, pulling me to my feet. His eyes were hard and bright, like the sun shining on a stream. “You thought I would leave you for the pleasures of Valhöll? I would kill a man for such an insult.”
“But I saw you go in! You just left me, without even kissing me good-bye.” I wrapped my arms around him, wanting to kiss every square inch of him, but he held me back, his face angry.
“I had to see the men to their reward,” he answered, his voice hard. “I could not abandon them without ensuring that they were settled. I thought you understood that. I thought you would wait for me.”
“But you didn’t say that!” I wailed, new tears pricking behind my eyes. “I thought you were gone forever! I was heartbroken at the thought of never seeing you again! Oh my God, Alrik, how can you not know how much I love you?”
The angry expression faded as he pulled me back into his arms, his lips warm on my mouth. “How could you believe I would leave you, you who are my heart, my life?”
The floor beneath my feet reeled as I kissed him, every ounce of my body filled with joy. “I love you,” I whispered as soon as I could speak.
“I know,” he said, kissing me again.
I bit his lip. “Say it.”
He laughed. “I am a Viking. We do not say such things.”
“You are a former Viking. You are a…” I paused. “What exactly are you? An ex-ghost?”
“I am a Viking. I am your husband. That is all I could ask for,” he answered, pinching my behind. “That is all you should want.”
“It is all I want—assuming you’re going to be around as long as I am.”
“Do not fear, käresta, I will not leave you. I am allowed to visit the Midgard once every moon. You will not mind living in Asgard?” he asked, suddenly looking wary.
I hesitated, a worry of my own popping up.
“Asgard will not always be in Astrid Lindgrens Värld,” he said quickly. “I have faith that Frigga will convince Odin to move it to less trying surroundings. Until then, I have secured us rooms in one of the halls. You will not mind living there?”