Odin's Fury: Book 10 in the Viking Blood and Blade Saga by Peter Gibbons

Author:Peter Gibbons [Gibbons, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

Hundr swam in the nothingness. Darkness and despair swarmed him, engulfing his senses like seawater over a drowning man. His ill luck had condemned more of his men to death. The sounds of battle were gone, replaced by the rhythmic dripping of water. Hundr realised he was conscious, yet not in a body of his own. His good eye would not open, and panic seized him as his hands pawed at his face. But these were not his hands – they were whole, big, strong, and uninjured. He had two eyes, yet despite being open, he could see nothing. Fear and confusion churned inside him like a fish thrashing on a quayside. He was blind.

He was not Hundr but somebody else, somewhere else. Hundr tried to calm himself, recognising the sensation and realising that he was experiencing one of the dream visions that had come to him throughout the saga of his life. He had been Völund before, the smith of the gods who had killed the children of his captor, Niðhad, and fashioned goblets and jewels from their eyes and skulls before flying away on cunning wings crafted in his mighty forge. He had been Loki, and even Odin, racing a giant on Sleipnir, his eight-legged horse. The visions were always tales of the gods, cruel and glorious tales meant to teach men lessons of old, and whilst Hundr feared the terrible brutality of seeing the world through the eyes of such powerful beings, he welcomed the wisdom. He needed Odin to grant him luck. Hundr hoped he was not dead but perhaps existing briefly in the realm between life and death. He had to return to Midgard. His men needed him, and his enemies could not be allowed to prevail.

Live. Survive and rise to fight again. Finn must die. Orm must die.

Hundr repeated the words in his mind, and the mouth that was not his gave voice to them, echoing as though he were trapped in a vast, damp cave.

Hundr felt around him, and his fingers touched wet, rough stone. He crawled in a circle, probing with his hands because he could not see. Hundr was in a place without a door, without windows, or any means of escape. He was in a prison. His hand found a rough rope dangling from above, and tied to it was a bucket. Inside the bucket was a pot of warm ale, an apple, and a chunk of hard bread. Hundr, who was not Hundr, drank the ale and took a bite of the apple. The taste of the fruit stunned him. It was like eating golden sunshine or tasting water dripping from a star. It was an apple of Iðunn, the fruit that gave the gods eternal life. Awareness came to Hundr then, an appalling understanding of who he was in his ethereal vision. He was Höðr, son of Odin, brother to Baldr the Golden One, and the most hated being in all the nine realms on Yggdrasil’s mighty boughs.

Hundr, now Höðr, sagged, and the magical apple rolled out of his hand.

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