Sigyn's Flowers, Page 3

suppose that it wasn’t,” he conceded.

  The vibrations grew worse, traveling from the tips of Odin’s toes to the pit of his stomach. They rattled his teeth. Lightning darted across a darkening sky. One glance at his eldest son, and Odin grinned. Storm clouds reflected in Thor’s eyes, the warrior’s form tight as a bowstring, and his hands flexing as though he wanted to hammer away whatever dared to attack them in their temporary afterlife.

  “The desire for revenge runs deep amongst the Jötuns,” Sigyn had said. Had she hinted at more than what she realized?

  Odin reached forward and grabbed Heimdall by his arms. The gatekeeper’s eyes gleamed with a wild and frightened light. He trembled under the Allfather’s grasp, but, after a few moments, he calmed. Confident Heimdall was not about to collapse into a heap, Odin turned and faced Fenris and Jörgmungandr. The two sons of Loki watched him with wariness.

  “There is no doubt,” Odin said to them, “that your father will be amongst us shortly, and I will welcome him amongst us once more. I consider this a second chance. For all of us. I know we have had our disagreements in the past, that ...”

  “Be silent, Allfather,” Fenris growled. “If you meant us harm, you would have attacked us by now. Even I understand this. Whatever comes wishes to destroy us, too. I can smell it.”

  “Then you will fight with us? Not against?” The words came from Bragi, a hint of doubt laced within them.

  “We will do as Sigyn wishes.”

  “We intend to fight, to protect that which is here,” Bragi said. “This is our home, wolf. As Sigyn is part of that, we will defend her, too.”

  “Brave words coming from a poet.”

  “Words that are true all the same,” Bragi shot back. A murmur of assent rose amongst them.

  “Yet you had no problems casting our father out, knowing full well her heart lay with him,” Fenris snarled. “For how long did you torment her while she sat next to my father during his imprisonment? How often did you plead with her to leave him? Why did you do nothing to prevent her death?”

  “Fenris,” Sigyn chided. “What’s done is done. We cannot change the past. And now is not the time.”

  “No, we cannot the change the past, this is true,” Odin agreed. “But we can learn from it. Loki is not the only one who bears blame in what has happened. We all do.” He moved to stand in front of the great wolf, his head barely reaching Fenris’s chest. “I would be honored to do battle at your side, son of Loki. Long has it been since we fought side by side.”

  “It has been a long time,” Loki’s son agreed.

  Two black specks appeared on the horizon, circling and winding around each other. The voices of two wolves rose up and echoed from the same direction as the specks. A thrill of joy, relief, and familiarity coursed through Odin.

  ‘I thought them to be lost forever,’ he mused. ‘What has changed to bring all of this about, I do truly wonder. But then why should they not be here? Fenris, Sleipnir, and Jörgmungandr are.’

  The ravens and wolves, one grey and the other as white as fallen snow, reached them. Within mere seconds of their arrival, Yggdrasil shook yet again. Leaves rained upon them in droves, and small branches and large chunks of bark broke loose, landing on those gathered. Those who carried shields raised them over their heads and those not so fortunate. Overhead, the sky turned black and red with nary a cloud in sight.

  The ravens – his ravens, Huginn and Muninn – alighted upon Odin’s shoulders.

  No more Gungnir, they said. Loki has it along with Frey and Heimdall’s swords.

  Odin raised an eyebrow at this but didn’t give their information much thought. He couldn’t, didn’t dare. The lands to the south turned from a lush green to the hues of rot and death. Soil turned and roiled. Bone hands appeared in the dirt, ghastly heads peering out and grinning with garish grins, Jötuns dead from previous battles rising up to battle against them. One by one, they emerged from the ground and shouted incoherent battle taunts at them. The Norns had never said anything about this!

  The trembling of the land and of Yggdrasil did not stop, either, with the appearance of the army of dead Jötuns. Rather, the shaking intensified and threatened to topple all of them. A flash of silver grey appeared directly in front of Odin, the hilt of a sword rising at the same time. Twin serpents were emblazoned along the blade along with the runes spelling out Loki’s name.

  Odin grasped the hilt, and he stared straight ahead at the Aesir’s foes. One Jötun, a female, strode forward from the rest. Bits of flesh fell from her body. Fenris let out an annoyed and pained whine.

  “Of course, she would be the one to lead them,” he muttered.

  Odin said nothing. The female, who became recognizable as Loki’s second wife, Angrboda, pointed a spear at Sigyn, which also happened to be at Odin. She then said something but what, no one on their side heard. The incoherent shrieks of the undead drowned everything out.

  “I daresay,” Freya murmured, “that she’s jealous of you, Sigyn.”

  “Me?” Loki’s wife squeaked out. “Why me?”

  “Because,” Odin replied, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Loki never left you. And you never left him. For some reason, the two of you were just ... perfect for each other. All who observed you knows how much he loves you.”

  To that, Sigyn said nothing. There was nothing for her to say.

  And the Jötuns weren’t exactly keen on wasting anymore time or for a signal. With the ground exploding, they charged forward. Many stumbled along the way, falling under their brethren’s feet. Even then, they continued to crawl forward, murderous intent gleaming in their not-quite-alive eyes.

  For their part, the Aesir formed a protective circle around Odin, Frigga, Freya, and Sigyn. They remained calm, their expressions stoic in face of the enemy charging at them. Those who had died with their weapons in hand carried them. Those who had not had picked up the larger fallen pieces of Yggdrasil to use either as clubs or as spears. All but Thor and Loki’s children bore weapons.

  Mere moments before the wave of Jötuns crashed into the Aesir, stillness covered the land, stillness and silence. A few red and gold butterflies landed in Sigyn’s hair and upon his shoulders. In his mind, he saw

  Asgård as she’d once stood, not quite shining and gleaming of gold but still glorious. All gathered in the main hall, assembled for yet another grand feast. He and Frigga sat upon a raised dais. Flowers adorned his wife’s hair. Mead flowed freely amongst the men and women, laughter raucous and cheerful rising up. A fire crackled lively and vibrant in the center of the room and there ... there was Loki with Sigyn at his side and a group of youngsters surrounding them. The trickster wove an intricate tale of battle and cleverness for them. Amongst the children, Odin noted Narvi and Vali, eyes shining bright with curiosity and adoration for their father.

  ‘Loki yet lives,’ he realized. ‘This ... is this from him? This ... is this what he desires ... how ... how is this even possible?’

  That was as much as he saw and as he could ponder. The first wave of Jötuns crashing into the wall of Aesir created a horrific noise the likes of which could never be described. Thor roared and raised a mighty, meaty hand and pounced forward in greeting of the attack. Even without the famed Mjölnir, he was still a formidable warrior. Heads flew from bodies wherever the Thunder God’s hands connected.

  Thor’s battle cry stirred the rest of the Aesir not in the frontlines into action. They surged forward and around Odin and the women. The odds were against the Aesir – they always had been – but they never allowed such things to deter them, something they’d picked up from the mortals once upon a time.

  Odin strode forward as Angrboda broke free from the skirmish and lumbered towards them, a snarl upon her features. The grass and flowers, already brown with the onset of fall, wilted and blackened at her approach. She radiated her anger and misery in powerful waves, destroying anything filled with life. Odin steeled himself for the attack.

  A frail, withered hand tou
ched his left forearm. From the corner of his eye, he saw Urd. She smiled at him then shook her head. He cocked his head in her direction.

  ‘What is she trying to tell me?’

  He didn’t need to wait long to find out.

  Upon reaching them, with her face still in a snarl, Angrboda reeled backwards, as though someone punched her. She blinked twice in her confusion. The giantess then shook her head and growled low in her throat.

  “I will crush you,” she uttered, gesturing to Sigyn. “You ... wench! You harlot! He was mine! You stole him from me! I will taste your blood and feast upon your flesh! I am glad Skadi killed you when she did! This will make slaying you all the more enjoyable, knowing you will never have him again!”

  Warmth infused the area in retaliation with each cold, heartless word Angrboda said. Life returned to the grass and flowers where Odin stood, but the magic came not from the giantess. Sigyn stepped forward.

  In her hand, she carried a polished wooden staff. Where she found it, Odin could only guess. Frigga and Freya flanked her on either side. Sigyn carried herself with her back straight and her shoulders squared. Her eyes glinted with her determination ... and her love for Loki.

  “I stole no one,” Sigyn said. “Not from you, not from Glüt. The fact Loki left you has nothing to do with me but everything to do with you. How dare you blame me for your own failings as a wife and as a mother!