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The Samhain Gate
10/19/2009
Iris emerged from her bedroom to see Thor studying Jason’s frozen form.
He looked up, “Tyr was right. He’s not good enough for you.”
She laughed, “Jealous?”
“Hardly. Let’s go.”
As she followed him out something caught her eye. Iris stopped and turned to look. In the darkened room the hammer was glowing faintly. Dull phosphorescence tinged along the runes inset into the head. The handle, which Iris had thought nothing more than a length of wood, glowed faintly as well. She couldn’t read the runes, but there was something purposeful about them, not simply fanciful designs.
“You coming, girl, or do I have to carry you?”
The conveyance was on the street. It was as massively incongruous as Iris remembered. She sat down on the fur-covered bench, “Are you going to knock me out this time?”
“Do I need to?” There was something teasing in his voice. Iris laughed; she couldn’t help it. Being literally saved from death was a wonderful mood elevator.
“Kinky!”
Thor snorted, “Just sit down and shut up.”
Iris didn’t point out that she was already sitting, and kept quiet. She wondered how long the trip would take. She’d been knocked out the first time she’d travelled to Asgard, and on horseback the second. A bit of dirt blew into her eye as they began to move. Iris rubbed it and blinked.
“She survived?” A vaguely familiar voice greeted them. Iris cleared her eyes and realized they were on the Asgard road. The sun was higher here, but starting to sink.
“Yes, she survived. Heimdall, this is the Allfather’s chosen.
Iris was still trying to get her mind around the fact that they were already here.
“I’ve been watching your exploits, my lady.” Irritation replaced awe; was everyone watching her? She forced herself to focus on the man standing beside the conveyance. Behind him was a modest timber building, covered in thatch. There was a covered porch with a single chair on it. The beams and railings were carved and had once been painted, but were now dark with age.
The man himself was weathered as well. Iris couldn’t judge his age. He was dark from the sun. His face was deeply lined and eroded around the edges, something the dark blonde beard couldn’t entirely hide. Iris tried to smile, but froze when he turned the full force of his eyes on her.
His features might be those of an aging man, but his eyes were dark, ageless, and piercing. Iris felt as though he was looking though her; past the protective layers she’d built up over the years, stripping down to the raw essence of her humanity. Iris tried to say something, but her mind fumbled with the words
Heimdall smiled, and the piercing gaze faded, leaving only a pair of ordinary blue eyes. Iris shivered; she could still feel the secrets lurking behind them.
“She’ll do. A pleasure to meet you. The Allfather will be waiting.”
Thor snapped the reins and they began moving again.
* * *
Valhalla was as massively imposing as Iris remembered. As they went over the hill, she could see the last of the warriors making their way inside. Iris had thought nothing could ruin her good mood, but the thought of having to cross that massive hall in front of the crowd of warriors made her stomach clench.
Thor stopped in front of the giant doors and tossed the reins to the young man who had emerged to take them. “Come on, girl.”
Iris forced herself to get out of the chariot. Why was she so nervous? She’d done scarier things that have a bunch of people look at her. She’d done scarier things than that yesterday.
“Alright, girl, time for some drama.” He put one hand on each of the massive doors and pushed them open. This time the drama wasn’t wasted. The doors swung back and hit the walls, sending a reverberating thud that Iris could feel all the way down to her feet. The noise coming from inside quieted. Without checking to see if she was following, Thor strode in. Iris followed after him, wishing she could put on her helmet and disappear.
“Iris!”
She looked up, “Tyr!” Her apprehension vanished. At least she had one friend here. He passed Thor, “What is it with you and the big entrances? You could have brought her in the back.”
“You have no sense of style, little brother. No point in walking into a room if no one’s going to know you’re there.”
Tyr shook his head and turned his attention to Iris. He scooped her up into his arms. Setting her down, he announced to the crowd, “My worst student. And the one I am most proud of.” He turned back to her, “Well done Iris.”
She smiled at him, “Thank you. For everything.”
“Come on, there’s some people I want you to meet.”
The hum of the crowd resumed as he led her through the mass of tables towards the front of the hall.
“I knew you had a protégé, but I didn’t know she was so cute.” A figure stepped in front of them. Iris’ jaw dropped, she couldn’t help it. The most exquisitely beautiful woman Iris had ever seen was standing there. She was a few inches taller than Iris, slender, but with soft rounded curves. She was wearing some sort of sheer fabric draped around her that both concealed and gave alluring hints of what was beneath. A mass of red-gold curls tumbled around her shoulders, decorated with an assortment of gold and amber pins. Around her neck was a wide filigreed necklace set with more amber. Iris wasn’t even interested in other women and she was captivated.
“So, are you going to let me borrow her for a few hours? Or maybe a few days?”
Tyr clenched his jaw, and Iris could see what a massive effort it was for him to speak, “Step aside, Freyja.”
She pouted very prettily, “You’re no fun. Maybe you just need to have some fun. Hmm? It’s no fair to keep her all to yourself.” She reached out to touch him. Tyr caught her arm and moved her aside. With the goddess out of her line of sight Iris blinked, wondering what had come over her.
“Come on.” He started walking again. “That woman is nothing but trouble, but her brother is worse.”
Iris shook her head, trying to clear it. Maybe fighting monsters wasn’t the most dangerous thing she could do for the Aesir.
“There she is!” Iris turned to see a group of men sitting at a table, “Come sit by me, Iris.”
A man with short dark hair was beckoning her.
“Go on. These are your predecessors.” He gave her a little shove, then turned and vanished back into the crowd.
Iris sat down on the bench. The table was below the high table, but not by much, and on the edge of the aisle that ran down the hall. Iris was glad not to be totally surrounded.
“I’m Alexi.” She immediately relaxed. She’d heard so much about him it was like meeting a distant cousin.
“That’s Beowulf, Heracles, Huang-di…” There were others, but Iris couldn’t keep the names and faces straight.
“A slender blonde brought her a cup and filled it. Alexi put an arm around her waist.
“This is my wife, Ӕsa, daughter of the Allfather.” He pulled her down into his lap and kissed her before allowing Ӕsa to wiggle free. Her smile told Iris that she didn’t mind the game at all.
“She was my reward for completing my task. That woman was worth dying for.”
“What will you ask for?”
Iris turned to see another man sitting next to her. He was a typical Norseman, with the shaggy hair and beard that was becoming normal to her. There was just a little gray in the blonde, but nothing old or weak in his face.
“Beowulf?”
“I am. You’ve heard my story?”
“Of course. Everyone knows your name.” She paused, “Of course, the interpretation has changed.”
“Interpretation? It’s a true story!”
“That’s not what they teach us in school.”
“What do they say?”
“It’s a metaphor,” Iris couldn’t help but laugh, “for Christianity defeating Paganism.”
He sighed, “I remember that religion. I always took it as proof that people will believe anything.” He shook his head, “I wanted to be remembered, I should have been more specific. Anyway, what will your pleasure be, my lady?”
“I’m not sure. I’m thinking maybe a house.”
“A house? That’s not much to ask for.”
“A house in Asgard. Somewhere in the trees, with space for a garden, some fruit trees and a little stream.” Iris smiled; there was something pleasant about being able to negotiate her own afterlife.
A piece of meat appeared in front of her. Despite eating enough for three earlier that day, Iris was hungry. The pork was tender, the mead was sweet, and the bread was soft. A girl could get used to this. The conversations flowed around her, but Iris was content just to sit and listen. Maybe someday she would be comfortable enough to add her own story, but for now the knowledge that her part in the saga was over was enough. Something was missing, though. Iris chewed slowly, trying to figure it out. Watching Alexi and Ӕsa made her realize what it was. They were so affectionate, so obviously in love, that it made Iris wish Jason was there with her. There were no more secrets between them, no more lies. She’d told him everything, and he’d accepted it without hesitation. He’d even offered to share his private refuge with her. What sort of moron would she be to pass that up?
“What are you smiling about?”
She turned to Alexi, “Nothing. I just made an important decision.”
“I think the Allfather’s going to say something.”
Odin was starting to get to his feet. He held his hands up for silence, but before the crowd could quiet, the doors at the other end of the hall flew open. They banged against the walls. The back of her mind, Iris wondered how often people could do that before the walls started to break.
A single figure began walking towards the head table. As it passed through the hall, utter silence followed. Out of the corner of her eye, Iris could see the men going for their weapons. The figured passed her table and Iris could see it was a man. A lean, black-haired man, with a neatly trimmed black beard. Iris wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about until he looked at her.
He was devastatingly handsome. Dark, dark eyes bored into her as he paused in his casual walk. He grabbed a cup from Ӕsa’s limp hands and sent the girl stumbling back. He sipped and considered Iris. She looked back, not sure what to do. She felt hot all over, exposed and vulnerable. He cocked his head at her. Later. The dark eyes seemed to say. Later we will continue this. Iris wasn’t sure if she actually heard the words or if it was a figment of her imagination. Still holding the cup, he continued up and stood in front of the high table. Odin was still standing, but was pale beneath his beard. Iris didn’t want to think about what could make Odin go pale.
“Loki.” It was nothing more than a whisper, but the name filled the hall. Iris shivered.
“Hi,” Loki took another drink of mead, “did you miss me?”
Ready for more? Valkyrion starts here.
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