The Shores of Vanaheim (The Ragnarok Era Book 3) by Matt Larkin

Author:Matt Larkin [Larkin, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Incandescent Phoenix Books
Published: 2017-05-02T05:00:00+00:00

32

When the sun disappeared behind the mountains, Freyja pulled him to his feet. “Come. We’re here anyway, and I want you to meet someone.”

He followed her inside. Gnarled and knotted roots formed twisting halls. The light inside emanated from mushrooms sprouting in clusters from those roots. Everything was grown—no sign of carving or the work of men, though neither could he imagine this place quite natural. This was like the troll burrows in Jarnvid, albeit without the thorns and twisted aspect.

Freyja navigated the winding maze of halls with confident steps, allowing Odin little time to linger or wonder at the place. Neither hall nor palace seemed quite the right word for the structure they had entered. Freyja rounded another bend, then began to tread a steep path downward. This they followed long enough, they must have passed beneath the level of the bridge and down into the roots. Though the tree appeared to hang suspended in open space, it seemed not the least bit unstable.

“Idunn has chambers above, though I don’t know if she’s here right now.”

“There’s something that’s bothered me since we reached the bridge. This is the most sacred place in Vanaheim. And not all of the Vanir are blessed with apples. So what stops those others from coming here and taking one?”

Freyja turned back to him with one raised eyebrow. “The tree has several guardians, most notably Vedrfolnir and Ratatoskr. Had you come here without me or someone else with permission, you’d have seen one of them, much to your detriment. Then there’s the man we’re here to meet, one of the last of the First Ones remaining in Vanaheim.”

She continued onward, until finally the path leveled out and opened into a comparatively large chamber—the ceiling rose perhaps ten feet, giving Odin room to breathe. A handful of other paths branched out of the room, and from one of those entered a man garbed in a long indigo robe embroidered with silver trim. His hair was dark, though streaks of gray ran through it.

Another First One. Besides Eostre, this man was the only one Odin had seen. This robed man had made the original march across Midgard and, apparently, had grown old before ever receiving an apple.

“Lord Lytir, I present Odin, King of the Aesir. He has come seeking knowledge to use against the Niflungar.”

Lytir narrowed his eyes and advanced until he stood a mere hairsbreadth away from Odin. After staring a moment, his hand launched out like a viper, grabbing Odin by the back of his neck. Odin clenched his fists at his sides, trying not to resist. Lytir looked from one side of his face to the other, his eyes glazing over as he did so. Again, the Vanr paused. That faraway look—he was using the Sight. What would it foretell about him? Could the man divine Odin’s true purpose on Vanaheim? If so, things might grow bloody in an instant. And Hel’s frozen tits, Odin did not wish to fight these people. Especially not Freyja.

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