7
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“Phoebe.” Sam’s voice was just above a whisper. “Phoebe, wake up!”
I rolled over, managing to catch myself before I rolled off the small twin bed. I opened my eyes. It was dark. “What time is it? It can’t be dawn already. I feel like I just fell asleep.”
“Something is pecking on our window,” Sam said. “You need to go see what it is.”
“Pecking?” I yawned, swinging my legs out of the bed. Sam and I were sharing a room in the bunkhouse. It was set up like a dorm room, but nicer.
I wasn’t too alarmed about an intruder, since nothing should be able to get through the Valkyrie Stronghold without alerting the guards.
Sam scooted back, tugging her covers up to her neck. “I woke up to this strange sound, but I couldn’t see anything. Then all of a sudden, two beady eyes appeared at that window.” She gestured to the big plate glass that made up one entire wall. “Then they disappeared, snapping off like a flashlight. I thought they were gone, but then the pecking started again. Listen.” She craned her neck toward the window, angling her ear out.
Sure enough, a peck, peck, peck sounded.
I picked up my new weapon, a hefty broadsword I’d retrieved from the Valkyrie arsenal, and crept toward the sound. There were no openings in the floor-to-ceiling glass. I glanced at the clock. I’d been asleep for only an hour and a half. “I can’t see anything—”
I stumbled backward as sharp, black feathers solidified into view.
Then I let out a relieved sigh.
“What is it?” Sam asked. “An ettin? A goblin? Tell me. The suspense is killing me!”
I lowered my sword arm. “It’s just Huggie.” I’d been wondering when the raven would find me.
“Well, that’s a relief.” Sam kicked her covers off and crawled out of bed to stand by me. “But why all the dramatics? How come he didn’t just talk to you inside your brain like usual? I’d still be asleep.”
“I have no idea,” I said. “But my guess is he’s trying to be stealthy. I’m going to head outside and see. He must not be able to get inside.”
“Okay, but if you’re not back in half an hour, I’m going to raise the alarms.” Sam was dressed in a borrowed nightgown that was way too big for her. She crossed her arms in an effort to pull it tighter.
I threw on my clothes quickly. “Go right ahead. If Huggie has become my enemy, we have bigger problems.” I picked up the broadsword and headed out the door.
The building was quiet, as all the Valkyries had finally retired for the evening. It had been a long, grueling day. I’d been told that there were at least four guard stations, manned at all times, set up around the perimeter.
As I padded down the hallway quietly, carrying my boots, I wondered why the raven hadn’t contacted me sooner. I’d half thought Huggie would meet me right off the boat. But that wasn’t being fair because, in the scope of things, I hadn’t been in Asgard very long. I looked forward to seeing what the bird had to say. He hadn’t led me astray thus far.
Once I arrived on the main floor, I headed toward a rec room filled with sofas and places to relax. I’d spotted a small door there earlier in the day.
It was unlocked.
The fresh night breeze brushed my face as I leaned against the building to tug my boots on. When I was done, I glanced up at my window to see if I could spot the raven.
He wasn’t there, but Sam was. She smiled and waved. I waved back.
I decided to head toward the training field. I had no doubt Huggie would find me when the bird was ready. The night was dark and still. Asgard was extremely quiet. No streetlights, no traffic, no airplanes. The environment felt a bit artificial, especially inside the Stronghold. Sam was right. It had that Walt Disney perfection, where everything was expertly maintained and nothing seemed out of place.
I arrived at the edge of the grass, but the raven still hadn’t found me. I spotted a bench a few feet away and went to sit. My butt hadn’t been in the seat for more than two seconds when a flitter of something floated across my mind.
Keep walking, head toward the weapons cache.
I stood, not questioning the order.
In my mind, I asked, Why can’t we talk here?
You are not meeting with me, the bird answered cagily. Then he added, It took everything I had to get inside. The Valkyries have powerful spells enacted to keep unwanted guests away. We must hurry. I won’t be able to cloak myself indefinitely.
If you had asked to see me, I’m sure they would’ve let you in. You’re not exactly a stranger.
No one must know I’m here.
Got it, I said, even though I didn’t at all. Everybody knew Huggie came to see me.
Our previous discussions were outside the bounds of Asgard, and I was able to cloak myself sufficiently. Here, things do not work the same way. I am purely the messenger today. Before you get to the weapons cache, take a left, Huggie instructed, keeping up effortlessly beside me, his wings not making a sound.
Who am I meeting? I asked.
You will find out once we arrive.
Arrive where? We’re leaving? That news was a little alarming. I shouldn’t leave the Stronghold without at least telling my mother.
There is no time. You are not in any danger. You have my word.
A large oak tree loomed in front of me. Please tell me we’re not taking a ride in that oak tree.
We are, he said. Once again, I personally guarantee your safety. No harm will come to you during our brief sojourn.
Can I at least leave a note? Sam is going to worry if I’m not back in half an hour.
There is no time. As it is, it took me too long to get in here and wake you.
Huggie, you’re not making any sense. Why can’t you just tell me where we’re headed?
You will see for yourself soon enough. It is better if I remain quiet.
You’re coming in the oak with me, right? I’m not a pro when it comes to tree travel.
I will accompany you, yes.
Can I bring my broadsword?
You may bring your weapon, the raven answered.
I wasn’t used to a tightlipped Huggie. The bird had been a vital source for most of my information while I’d been in Midgard and traveling through the realms.
We arrived in front of the large trunk. Do the Valkyries know this is a portal? I asked.
It will become a cillar for a few hours, but only because you have an ability to make it so.
I do? I knew I could ride them and open a dead one if I found one nearby, but I hadn’t known I could make them from scratch. Are you sure?
Yes, Huggie said. Place your palm on the bark.
I did. The bark immediately tingled under my hand. What do I do now?
Will it to open.
That’s it? All I have to do is want it? That seemed too easy.
More or less, the raven hedged. Now imagine yourself slipping through the tree.
I hastily conjured up a mental image of me getting swallowed up by the big oak, and my palm began to vibrate. It’s working! At least, I thought it was.
Now imagine your destination.
I don’t have one, because you haven’t told me where we’re going. My hand began to undulate, the bark itself becoming liquid.
Picture your father.
A mental image of Odin popped into my head before I put two and two together. We’re going to see my—
Before I could finish my thought, there was an audible crack and I was sucked into the tree.
I heard Huggie squawk once before I tumbled end over end through the vortex. Thankfully, the ride was short. I hit the ground hard, somersaulting until I crashed into something soft. Or softish.
Hastily, I disengaged myself from the bush and stood, dusting myself off. It was dark. It felt like I hadn’t left Asgard. The smells were the same. The night air and temperature felt the same. But I had no idea for certain.
I spun in a full circle, taking inventory of my surroundings. It appeared I’d landed in the middle of a forest, and for the moment, I was totally alone.
Half a beat later, Huggie soared out of the tree, arcing smoothly over my head.
Relief filled me. The bird hadn’t ditched me after all.
I ran my fingers through my hair, which was always an unruly mess after any kind of tree travel. Trying to tame the curls was a thankless job. “Am I really here to meet my father?” I asked as I began to follow the bird. “Why does this meeting have to be so cloak-and-dagger?”
Yes, we’re here to meet your father. Many of the gods and goddesses are on Frigg’s side in the matter of Baldur’s death. If Odin were to have an open meeting with you, it might put you in harm’s way. They expect the king of the gods to act impartially on this matter, even though it concerns a daughter he’s never met. Odin thinks otherwise.
“I’m already in danger,” I said, watching Huggie soar effortlessly through the trees. “We had a visitor today who tried to entrance my mother, most likely to get to me.”
So I heard. The halfling could have been sent by a god, but just as easily by someone else. It is best for Odin to conceal this meeting.
“Is he close?” Anticipation suddenly bubbled in my chest at the thought of meeting my father.
He awaits by the sacred stream. Follow the path in front of you.
Between two large trees, a worn trail came into view. “Are we still in Asgard?”
Yes, we are.
“Tell me about him,” I said. “The imaginings in my head are over the top. It might be better for me to go in prepared.”
He is an imposing figure who carries himself with grace and authority.
“That doesn’t exactly help.” I chuckled. “Of course he’s imposing, he’s Odin. I mean, what does he look like specifically? Does he have dark hair like Tyr? Or blond hair like I imagine Thor to have?” But only because of the movies. “Does he look old? Or young like my grandmother?”
He looks wise.
I glanced up at the bird, who arced over a tall pine tree. “You’re not very good at this. Does he have any physical attributes that stand out? A scar like Tyr’s? Or is he missing an ear?”
He wears an eye patch.
“You’re kidding.” That was surprising. “I hadn’t heard that.” You’d think somebody would’ve mentioned it by now.
He sacrificed one of his eyes long ago in return for wisdom. Intense. You’d think a god could grow back his own eye. When one makes a willing sacrifice, they give up the right to grow it back, Huggie answered, like he was inside my mind, which he was.
So Odin was an imposing wise man with an eye patch.
“Does he resemble an old man with gray hair?” The trail wove through a dense forest packed with trees. Even though it was dark, the green leaves shone vibrantly, making it easy to navigate around the stumps and overgrowth.
In one part of my mind, I pictured Odin looking about ten years older than Tyr, still spry and young, and on the other, I pictured Gandalf, with a cascade of long white hair, a flowing beard, wearing a toga and carrying a staff.
I couldn’t help it.
I was the product of a lifetime of Midgard entertainment. Hollywood was the only vehicle I had at my disposal to prepare myself for what was to come.
You will soon see for yourself.
“I know,” I said. “But I was kind of hoping for a warning or some well-intended preparation. If he looks grizzled and hunched over, missing patches of his hair, I may react badly. You don’t want me to embarrass myself in front of my father, do you?”
You are right. I fare badly at these questions. Odin is Odin to me. We have been together since my creation. He looks like a man. One wiser than most. He commands his audience. He was meant to be king.
“So, not a grizzled Gandalf hunched over a cane?” I asked hopefully.
“No, not quite that.” A voice filled with humor met me as I stepped into a sprawling clearing.