Rudi licked his lips and met that gaze. The Old Man was no enemy to him… but he was perilous even to his friends. ?If I gain the Sword of the Lady, will I defeat this enemy?? he asked boldly. ?To gain the Sword will not bring certain victory, but defeat is certain if you fail. Yet victory for your cause may be your own bane, Artos, King to be.?
Ah. When speaking with a God, don?t ask things you already know! ?I understand that choice, lord. I have accepted it. I will do what must be done, and pay the price of it gladly, for my folk?s sake, and for this fair world that the Gods have given humankind to be our cherished home.?
A rustle, and Mathilda stood beside him. Rudi started a little, taken from the diamond focus of his concentration; her fists were clenched at her sides, and her breast heaved, but her voice was controlled and he knew the courage that must have demanded. The more so as her faith held such suspicion of all spirits save their own. ?And does Rudi get nothing? If there is… if there must be.. . does he get no mercy, no reward for his courage??
The hooded face turned towards her, and Rudi thought he heard a tinge of kindness in its stern tone.
For boldness is something this One loves, he thought. And there is no braver heart than my Matti! ?Mercy is not in my gift, Frigga-of-battle,? the Power that had possessed the Bjorning wisewoman said.?Neither for myself nor for those who call on me for victory. I can give a little time, but within that time only you can grant this man the reward he desires, the reward the man desires, and not the King. Be brave, be true, and you shall lay his son in his arms!? ?King!? Rudi heard someone mutter, as Mathilda staggered back and sat, stunned.?The Wanderer grants the stranger kingship from his own hand!?
The voice of the one on the high seat went on: ?The Bear?s Son is not my man, though one of those who rides with him is-and worthy of me he shall be, and worthy of his warrior sire, when he avenges his father?s death!?
Frederick Thurston bowed; his dark face glowed, as if seeing beyond the walls of Eriksgarth to a path that led upward. Upward across a bridge sparkling with color, beneath gigantic stars, towards roofs thatched with spears of glittering gold where auroras crackled. Beside him Virginia grasped his arm, glaring at the speaker as if she would spring to protect her man even from this, and the voice chuckled again before it continued. ?But though he does not make offering to me, the man called Artos comes of blood that bears much might; the blood of the Juniper Lady in which runs wisdom from beyond the world of men, the blood his father shed willingly to stand between his folk and their foes, dying and yet in death winning the victory that brought them peace. The Son of the Bear shall add to that might, for he is fated to great deeds. If he wins his victory, his shall be a line of Kings that lives long in glory and forever in the tales of men. If he fails, all fail with him; and then comes the doom of Midgard.?
The speaker?s head turned, and the folk in the hall bore it as they could, meeting it or turning their heads aside or covering their eyes. ?All of you! If you would stand with the Gods, then I bid you help him. The sword he seeks is more potent than Tyrfing, forged for the hand of a King!?
Only breath disturbed the stillness.?So, Son of Bear, Son of Raven, High King of a realm called Montival that is yet to be and may never be-is that what you wanted to know??
Rudi shook his head.?The Crow Goddess gives me battle fury, but even the gift of the Dark Mother may not be enough against this foe. Will you, lord, give me battle craft to face him??
The laugh rumbled again, more gently this time: ?Wise is he who asks for wisdom! That gift, at least, is within my power. Watch for the ravens. They will show you the way.?
Rudi bowed for a moment.?Thank you, lord. And when my victory is won and I sit on the throne of the Ard Ri in Montival, always shall you and yours have welcome and honor in my lands.?
Thorlind the godwoman spoke; her voice wavered between fright and firmness: ?Allfather, we thank you also, but be kind to the seeress, who loves you. Please let her go now, gently, without harm-?
She rose and stood before the chair as the seidhkona first straightened and then sagged, and caught her as she slumped forward. Love and terror and pride warred in her voice as she spoke: ?Heidhveig, Heidhveig, my teacher, come back to us, please. That?s right-?
The limp form of the old woman stirred, and a hoarse sound came from beneath what was once more a veil. Thorlind?s words grew stronger: ?The vision fades, the voice grows silent. Return now, wise one, where we wait to welcome… Can you see the Gate? Raven will lead you towards it. Good, now you?re through-Let?s just get you out of this chair…?
Bjarni Eriksson moved forward to help her. They eased the seeress out of the seidhjallr and into an ordinary chair. Harberga brought a glass of water and held it to Heidhveig?s mouth. The gydhja picked up the drum again struck it, the taut hide thuttering: ?Now it is time to return. Arise,
Move swiftly and easily, pass around the wall
From the east to the north, from gate to bridge.
Now it is before you, broad and fair.
Cross and ascend the road
Up and around, past Modhgudh?s tower…?
Swiftly the journey was completed. Thorlind and the men who?d come with them helped their mistress down from the dais and away to her bed in the house. A rising babble of voices rang out with an edge of hysteria in them, until Bjarni leaped up to the dais and roared: ?Quiet!?
The redbeard?s chin thrust out as his eyes went back and forth over his folk, cold and blue. When silence fell he put his hands on his sword belt and spoke bitingly: ?We?ve heard the words of the High One, through the holy seidhkona . He spoke of great deeds-of war and maybe even Ragnarok. Whatever happens, we will meet it-meet it like Bjornings, like free men and women of Norrheim, not like chattering magpies or frightened children! All men die; in the end, even the Gods shall die. The seidhkona is old and deserves rest, but she went under death?s shadow to bring us this word. Honor her courage with courage of your own!?
The hall fell quiet again, but there was less tension in it. ?Now go and sleep, and think about what we?ve heard.?
He jumped down and walked to Rudi before he spoke again, quietly: ?And you and I, my friend, will think and then we will talk. There are things I must know, if I am to steer wisely… and mine is the hand on the tiller here.? ?And I will tell them gladly, Bjarni,? Rudi said.
Then he smiled.?You can see that there?s more than one spoon in this stewpot, and some of them of an exceeding longness!?
Talk they did, and after a night?s sleep they spoke into the next day, when Heidhveig joined them; she looked better than Rudi had expected in body, and less nerve-wracked than many others in Eriksgarth by the fore-seeing. ?You?re well, I hope, Lady?? he said, rising and bowing as her pupil helped her towards the hearth.
She grinned at him, indomitable.?At my age, you?re either well or dead. I?m not dead yet. This is just an act to get a handsome young man like you to give me an arm.?
He stepped forward and put an arm beneath her hand; it gripped him like a handful of walnuts. He guided her into the cushioned armchair nearest the fire, with Thorlind on the other side. Despite the light words, he could hear her breath whistle a little between clenched teeth as she sank down into the seat. Thorlind fussed with a rug she tucked around. The old woman pushed her hands aside with a good-natured chiding: ?We?re in front of the fireplace!? ?We were telling my story,? Rudi said, as he took seat again across from her.?And trying not to let it go back to the beginning of the world, so! Well, you?ll need to know a little of how the Change took us, in the High West-though I was born about this season of the first Change Year. Born on a battlefield, near enough-?