Pyramid Power: Chapter Twenty Two

    Liz might have guessed that Lamont’s plans would involve a serious shortage of rest. He had her and Thrúd making caltrops. At least in myth-Greece they’d kept him away from a workshop.

    After a while Liz curiosity got the better of her. She asked Thrúd what all this stuff about Baldr was about.

    “I was… involved with Baldr.” She sighed. “I was still quite young. We Æsir do not age as you mortals do. And Baldr was even more handsome than Loki was before Skadi’s snakes. But Baldr was married to Nanna. And Papa-Thor and Uncle Fox were like two old mother-hens about me. From what I can work out Loki went to Odin to get Baldr to back off, before Papa-Thor found out. I was still quite young. The mistletoe… well, it grows on the oaks. Odin’s grove-trees. Baldr was protected against harm from anything else. Papa-Thor would have fought Baldr. Thor could not win, so Loki dealt with him. I don’t know if he meant to kill him. He doesn’t always think of consequences.”

    Liz thought that was the understatement of the generation. “But what did all of this have to do with Odin?”

    “He is Baldr’s father. And Baldr is foretold to rule of the Æsir after him. What Loki is saying is… horrible. He is saying Odin plotted for Baldr’s death so that there would be no challenge to his rule.”

    Liz gaped. “His son?”

    “One of them,” said Thrúd. “And no, I’m not still in love with him, whatever Loki thinks. Baldr broke it off just before he was killed. I… I was glad he got killed. He used me. I was just another bit of fun, and a way of getting at Papa-Thor. He taunted me with that,” she said, colors flying in her cheeks.

    Mocking Thor’s daughter was probably a seriously bad idea.

    They worked on while Loki and Lamont competed in ingenuity and puns. Liz had to be glad of it. It might keep him from thinking too much about Marie.

    “The big problem,” said Loki, “is Jörmungand. She’s not very fast on land, and her wings are too small for her to fly with. I can transform myself, and her. It’s not easy, but I can do it. I transformed Idun into a nut once.” He grinned. “Mind you. I am not sure that she got better. Of course if we get Jörmungand into the water there is no catching her. Fenrir can outrun even the arrows of Ull.”

    “We need to attach some armor on this cart,” said Lamont, “that’s not going to weigh it down too much.”

    “Don’t let Thor hear you call it a cart, for Hel’s sake. He’s terribly proud of his title Öku-Thor—charioteer-Thor.”

    Lamont shrugged. “Call it whatever you like, it could use some improvement. Leaf springs for starters, and a better way of attaching the goats.”

    Loki laughed. “He’s a traditionalist, is our Thor. And spring is the time of leaves, yes, and they would hide us, but this is Fimbulwinter. It will be snowing before morning. Asgard is unused to snow.”

    “Snow…” mused Lamont. “Chariots don’t do too well in deep soft snow, do they?”

    “Depends on how deep,” said Loki. “It was clear out when we rode over, but the snow is coming. There are long watches to the night.”

    “That’s going to make tracking horses tricky. And Marie… will she be all right?”

    “She lies behind an eternal wall of flames. She will be warmer than we are.”

    “She’s not well,” said Lamont, biting his lip. “I need to get back to her.”

    “All the more reason to get out into Midgard, snow or no snow,” said Loki.

    Lamont’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to have a look.”

    It might have been clear when Liz had come back from Vallhöll, but now it was as black as the inside of a cat out there, and snow was falling as if it had a deadline to meet. It was a regular blizzard now. If it kept up like this it was going to be axle deep on the cart in no time. Lamont refused to call that thing a chariot. It was more like a two-wheeled farm-wagon. And the snow was soft and powdery. The goats would almost have to swim through it. What they needed was a skidoo… He might as well wish for a ski-plane.

    And into his fertile mind an idea was thrust. The Midgard serpent’s tail was definitely a lot higher than it was wide. “Just how well will Jörmungand cope with that soft snow?” he asked Loki. “It won’t be quite swimming, but no one is going to walk on top of it for a while.”

    Loki shrugged. “Let’s ask her.”

    Jörmungand went out and showed them. A patch of the floors of Bilskríner were never going to be quite the same again, but Lamont had the design for a giant mythological skidoo. All they needed was a broad sled, with one wide skid with a high but gently sloping prow. Jörmungand could put her head and a little of her upper torso on that, along with them. A hundred and fifty feet of tail could push the skid along.

    Now all he needed was to construct it before morning. Fortunately, there was a half-built boat in Thor’s work-room. It had plainly been abandoned long ago, when the bow had been completed and the rest still needed to be clinker clad.

    Thor was easy about the idea of them using it. “A snow dragon-ship! I like that idea. I’m never going to finish the ship anyway. And the timbers are old already.”

    Jörmungand liked it too. “I tend to dig in to drifts,” she said. “This should stop that.”

    At length they were ready, and Lamont went to have another look outside. It was still snowing, but less heavily. The snow was lying nearly four feet deep. There was also a hint of sullen daylight. They’d been at the preparations for longer than they’d realized. He sighed. Well, he’d better wake the children. Emmitt had passed out quietly in a corner a few hours back. Thor had carried him to sleep with the others. Red-beard liked that boy.

    When he went through to the room where the straw pallets and goose-down covers had been laid, Lamont realized two things. Firstly he was very tired. Secondly he had real problems because Tolly and Ty were not in their beds. Just as he was setting out full of panic, the two came in.

    “There is snow! I had never seen snow until I came to this place. And there is so much of it!” said Tolly excitedly.

    “We found this belt thing, Pa,” said Ty, hefting a broad gold and leather belt. “It’s pretty cool, hey.” He held it against his waist and grabbed his father’s arm… and pulled Lamont off his feet.

    “I think Thor is looking for that,” said Lamont in a controlled voice. “And now do you think you could put me down? That’s his belt of strength.”

    Thor was delighted. “Where did you find it?”

    “I’ll show you,” said Ty.

    They followed the boy to a room on the back of the huge hall.

    “Thjalfi’s lair,” said Thor. Already, with the great belt—it looked like a championship prizefighter’s belt—he looked less like a has been and more like Thor, god of thunder.

    The room yielded quite a trove. There were the iron gauntlets, and an iron rod. “He told me I’d lost them!” said Thor, incensed.

    There was also something that meant nothing to Thor and a great deal to Lamont.

    A still. A home-made copper still.

    Which went a long way to explain Thor’s “medicine,” and where it had come from. There were still several skins of the stuff, which Lamont looted. It might come in useful, even if he had to keep it a long way from Thor.

    They went back to the room where Ella was still fast asleep. And smiling in her sleep. Lamont hated to wake her, poor child. She wasn’t used to coping with a world that didn’t have her twin in it. He didn’t want that smile to go. Maybe cuddling that wolf had done it. It had been damn funny how the wolf had taken to her. He’d be embarrassed if he thought they’d noticed it, but as long as no one was looking…

    Well, Liz said wolves were a highly social species. And there were those Mowgli stories. Giving Ty to the wolf to raise was not an unattractive thought! Although the wolf probably wouldn’t think so. But it definitely allowed Ella more liberties than anyone else.

    She opened her eyes. “Daddy, Tina’s been flying in a big jet-plane. Huge. Big enough for the dragons to lie stretched out!”

    She started giggling. “And the dragons ate too much while they were flying and then they wouldn’t fit out. They got stuck in the door because they both tried to get out together. And Cruz said some rude things…”

    “What?”

    “They’ve gone to Washington, D.C. Will you take me sometime, Daddy? It’s not fair that Tina gets to go on her own.”

    “Uh.” Lamont really didn’t know how to deal with this. But at least she was smiling. Part of the way back to the talkative girl-child she’d been. He picked her up and hugged her. “Liz and Thrúd are organizing some food. And as I know Liz’s cooking skills, I think we’d better go and see that we get something edible.” he said. She was her mother’s daughter. And at least he had her.

    “Is there any news about mom?” Ella’s worries and fear came back with a sudden rush and she clung to him.

    “The news is not too bad,” he said. “She’s a prisoner, but she’s okay. We’ll free her soon. Come. Got some new people for you to meet, that are going to help us.”

    Thrúd plainly did not have the culinary deficiencies that Liz did, because the oatmeal was edible. So was the smoked salmon and the rye bread, and the gammon. Looking at the size of that side of salmon, Lamont felt like going fishing for the first time since they’d found out about Marie’s illness. But since his luck had deserted him on other things, it probably wouldn’t allow him to catch fish any more either. That was too bad. He’d really enjoyed catching fish. He’d never caught a thing before Tyche, the Greek goddess of luck, had blessed him, despite a fair amount of trying. The novelty had been nearly as nice as catching the fish. Besides, it stopped you thinking about other problems. If they ever got out of this mess… well, even trying might provide him with some solace.

    “I’ve left Thjalfi as much detail as I can,” said Agent Bott.

    “Well, we hope he’s as good as his word. He’s certainly got the ear of the powers that be in this place,” said Agent Stephens.

    “Yeah. Do you think we should try and lose these guys? Stay here?”

    “How?” asked Bott. “They’d find us here. That wolf-thing could smell us out. And it’s snowing outside—hard enough for us to get lost and not fast enough to fill in the tracks. We should have gone last night.”

    “We weren’t even sure of which direction,” said Stephens, picking up a helmet with an utterly useless sealed GPS unit in it. All that there was now, was a piece of parchment. He’d love to know how the hell the switch had been pulled. It must have been back in the van, on the way into the pyramid zone. He’d been next to that big paratrooper. The son of a bitch must have done it somehow. “And when did we really get a chance to get out from under the eyes of those monsters?”

    “If there is one thing I really like about them, it’s that you and I are not monsters in their eyes,” said Jörmungand. “You’ve got to admit it, brother. It makes a change. Loki and Sigyn were always good to us. Thor… well, he was so far down the slide to being a stumble-bum he didn’t care any more. He wanted company to drink with. He only took the sword out of your mouth because he was blind drunk and wanted to sell it for more booze.”

    “He admitted that, yes,” said Fenrir. “And I used to get on with Tyr. But these people are still mortals, Sis. Whether Loki admits it or not, Ragnarok is coming. I don’t even know if he can stop it if he chooses. And in Ragnarok all mortals will die, and we’ll stand beside our father in battle against the Æsir.”

    “Hmph. You’re not even full grown yet, Fenrir. Ragnarok isn’t due for centuries. If things can change that much, we can change them some more. Besides, I like having a girl for a friend. There’s all sort of woman talk that I never had a chance to do before.”

    It was Fenrir’s chance to snort. “Soppy stuff. But, fair enough, I like Liz too. And the kids have brought out a big brother side I never knew I had. But there’s no sense in getting sentimental about it. Ragnarok will end all things.”

    “So this is where you two are,” said Liz, coming through the door. “Time for us to get going.”

    She looked faintly guilty. “We’re going to need a hand to get the half boat out. I didn’t think of that.”

    “Hands are something I’m a little short of,” said Fenrir.

    Liz found getting the half-boat out was an easier task to accomplish than she’d thought. Actually, it displayed the kind of thinking she wished she’d employed in her various house-moves. Do not fight the queen-sized bed-base around corners and up the stairs. Just have the world’s biggest snake swing its tail once at the wall, and push the thing straight through the new hole. Easy really, if not the sort of action that pleased landlords—or Thrúd.

    “You should treat Bilskríner with some respect!” she said, as Jörmungand pushed the half-boat through the hole.

    “Why?” asked Jörmungand.

    “Because it is home of the god Thor,” said Thrúd.

    “It’s a house. Big and badly built. It can be fixed. It’s not exactly an architectural treasure, Thrúd. And in the last little while he hasn’t actually spent much time here. I know because I spent most of the time drinking with him.”

    “You should respect it because he has lived here,” said Thrúd, stiffly.

    “Oh?” said Jörmungand skeptically. “I’m inclined to respect people, not things. But I live in the ocean, mostly. Call that my home. I’ll thank the Ás and the Midgarders for not making water into it.”

    Thrúd found something else that needed doing, and Liz had to grin to herself. She was not a bad kid, but was obviously used to being the strongest female around—which you could believe if you’d seen her carrying a few “essentials,” like a metal mirror that must have weighed a hundred and fifty pounds. She had her father’s strength, but packed into a smaller female body. Mixing with Jörmungand would do her the world of good.

    Jörmungand slid herself into the rope and strut harness that Liz and Lamont had constructed. She had a good look at herself in Thrúd’s mirror and arched her neck up proudly. “All aboard.”

    The mythworld-skidoo moved fairly slowly at first, very sinuously and with enough lateral sway for Liz to wonder if Jerry would have been sea-sick on this craft too.

    “Chariot goes faster,” grumbled Thor. It was still snowing, but not with the force it had had the night before. The snow lay about four feet thick and was still loose and powdery. Perhaps Thor’s goats could have coped with it. But the Mythworld skidoo was accelerating as they hit a slight downhill, with their back-track straightening out and the half-boat rising onto its keel instead of digging its way through the snow. Now they went fast… and then still faster.

    Straight toward a party of warriors struggling their way through the thick snow. “Weeeeeee!” shrieked Jörmungand. “This is fun!”

    By the way Odin’s Einherjar were diving into drifts they didn’t think so. Just because you’re a Valkyrie-chosen brave warrior does not mean that you want to be flattened by a half-boat moving at least forty miles an hour, by Liz’s estimate. It went on accelerating, spraying powder snow and racing ever faster on the downhill toward the gates of Asgard.

    “Thor had better be right,” Liz yelled, “because if those bloody gates are closed we’ll be jam at this speed!”

    An arrow winged over her head, and skittered off Jörmungand’s scales. The gates were open—but Heimdall and a dozen others were trying to close them.

    “Faster!” yelled Liz in Jörmungand’s ear. “And the rest of you get down!”

    But Loki and Thrúd had already taken up bows, and were shooting at the frantic gate team. Another black-fletched arrow sprouted in the boat-timbers, as Jörmungand churned the snow behind them. Through the snow-arch Liz could see that the gate-closers had run away. But the gap was a narrow one. Liz just hoped that Jörmungand was keen sighted. It wasn’t a major reptile trait.

    Sure enough, they hit the gate edge with a shriek of splintering wood because Jörmungand aim was not that good. But at least they were through.

    And then Jörmungand was turning. Was she taking them back? Was she crazy? Best not to ask.

    The entire half-boat lifted—all twenty feet of solid oak—and Jörmungand turned across the gateway she’d been racing straight towards. The half-boat slid sideways, a good seventy feet. A sheet of snow, several tons of it, sprayed straight at the Einherjar. One moment there were thirty warriors with swords, battleaxes and spears, bracing themselves. Archers ready to fire.

    And the next there were only snow-men, and Jörmungand was turning again, racing across the flat and away.

    “I’ve done that at sea, but it’s even more fun on the snow!” said Jörmungand happily. “Swamped a few longboats like that, I have.”

    Liz could well believe it. She was just very glad that she hadn’t been on the longboats, or standing in the snow.

    They were away from Asgard.

    But they had left a trail that even a blind man could follow, if he didn’t mind getting his knees wet.