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The Samhain Gate

1/5/2009

The water was freezing and Iris couldn’t feel the bottom.

She looked around frantically; the water stretched to the horizon in every direction. She had no idea how she’d gotten here. She tried to take a deep breath, but cold salty water splashed into her mouth, choking her. She kicked and splashed her arms, trying to keep herself afloat. What was she doing here? Iris screamed and flailed convulsively as something brushed her leg beneath the water. She looked around, trying to see in the murky water, was something moving beneath the waves? Something brushed her leg again, lingering along her skin. Her armor, where was her armor? For the first time, Iris realized she was naked in the water. Something coiled around her leg, smooth and scaly. She kicked, trying to get it off, trying to control the panic. She tried to kick it off; the scaly thing only tightened its grip. Iris’ mind shut down, and she began flailing mindlessly, panicked, desperate. The scaly thing gripped and pulled her leg, dragging her deep into the cold, airless darkness.

Iris sat up with a gasp, shivering and soaked with sweat. She pulled her knees to her chest and couldn’t do anything but rock mindlessly for a few minutes, eyes closed. She could hear the sound of birds and the crash of the surf. The sunshine from her open window was warm on her exposed arms, and gradually began to thaw some of the cold terror left by the dream. She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there when she finally opened her eyes again. The sunlight hit her eyes and ignited a flame behind them. Iris groaned and put a hand to her head.

She sat for a few more minutes, steadying her heart rate and trying to convince the blinding pain behind her eyes to go away. She gave it up and threw back the blankets. Her stomach rolled uneasily when she stood up. She put a hand to her stomach and stood still for a moment. She managed to hold everything in, but her stomach was still queasy. Iris was soaked in sweat, but her armor didn’t seem to absorb the liquid. She stripped off the leather and headed for the bath.

* * *

Tyr was sitting in the Hall, drinking and nibbling on fruit. He looked like Iris felt. He glanced up at her, paused, and then slid a mug over to her. “You look a little rough, girl. Drink up; it helps.”

She took the mead and sipped at it. The drink helped settle her stomach and she reached for the bread. “Is Thor gone?”

He nodded, “I packed him off around dawn.”

“Have you slept at all?”

“Nope. That’s another reason I don’t have Thor over much.”

“Are we going to be training today, or are we just going to sleep it off?”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easy, girl. Best way to get rid of a hangover is to sweat it out.” He glanced over and seemed to see her for the first time, “The armor is meant to be worn under clothing, but I’m glad you like it so much.”

Iris blushed; she’d put her armor back on after bathing, but had been too distracted to put anything on over it. She stood up, vaguely intending to run back to her room and put on more clothing.

“Sit down, Iris. The fewer clothes you wear the less likely you are to get tangled up on something. I just thought I’d point it out. You don’t want to forget to put something on over the armor when you get back to the Midgard.” Iris sat down and Tyr took another drink, “I’ll never understand you mortals’ obsession with modesty.”

She sighed, “It’s a cultural thing. I don’t suppose you have coffee here?” The mead was helping her headache, but not helping her wake up.

“That’s another obsession I just don’t understand.” He took pity on her, “I’ll ask around and see if I can get some for you.”

“That reminds me; when I get home, can I tell people about all this, or do I have to keep it a secret?”

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, “I see no reason you must keep it a secret. You may want to, however. I understand there are special hospitals for people who make claims that they talk to gods.”

She started to laugh, but it hurt her head too much, “You’re right. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have to come kill me if it did slip out.”

“Of course not. You have a job to do. If you want your people to know about it, why should we care?”

She nodded and continued eating for a few minutes, but didn’t do much more than pick at the food. Her stomach had settled, but her head still hurt.

“Come on, Iris,” Tyr stood up, “you’re just sitting there. Let’s get to work; it will make you feel better.” She looked up at him and sighed, not at all interested in any sort of strenuous activity.

“Wow. You look really pathetic there, girl. No more mead for you.” He put his hand on her shoulder, “Come on, I have a present for you; it will cheer you up.” Iris stood up, not sure if anything related to heavy training would cheer her up at the moment, and followed Tyr out to the front courtyard.

“Do you like it?” He was grinning like it was his birthday, “I had my boys start building it as soon as I heard was training another champion.” Iris had to admit the obstacle course was quite impressive. There were walls to climb up, ropes, gaps between pieces to jump, balance beams suspended on ropes to make them wobble, netting to tumble into, large rollers to run across. The highest points were twenty or thirty feet in the air.

“It’s all modular, so I can change the configuration for you.”

“I like it.”

“Glad you approve. Let’s get started; go get your helmet.”

She went back to her room, pulled the helmet out of its wooden box and went back to join Tyr in the courtyard.

“I want you to start by working on your balance and aim while wearing the helmet. It will cut down some on your peripheral vision, so you need to get used to that and learn to compensate for it. Go get on that beam.”

The beam was about twenty feet long and hovered a couple of feet off the ground, suspended on ropes. Iris stepped up and steadied herself on one of the beams of the framework.

“Put on your helmet on and run.”

The helmet cut off some of her vision, but not as much as Iris was expecting, nor did it block out much of her hearing. She took a few tentative steps on the beam, trying to get a feel for it, then started going a little faster.

“Faster, girl. You already know you can do it.” The helmet didn’t muffle Tyr’s comments at all. She went a little faster, reached the end of the beam, turned around and went back across. By the end of the second circuit she was as comfortable on the wobble beam as on the ends of the benches.

“Good, now size up your axes and you can start getting a proper feel for them.” She pulled them off her ears and stood with one in each hand, winging her arms a little, trying to bring them to full size. Nothing happened.

She looked at Tyr, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

He sighed and took them from her, enlarging them immediately, “There’s nothing wrong with the axes. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.” He handed them back to her and circled around to the opposite side of the beam. “I’m going to throw these lumps of clay,” he motioned to a couple of baskets sitting on the ground, “and I want you to hit them out of the air with your axes.” A large wooden palisade—another part of the obstacle course—served as a backstop. “I’ll start with just one at a time.”

He tossed a clod of dirt into the air; Iris threw one of the axes. She missed the dirt by a couple of feet. The axe circled around without hitting the backstop and came tumbling back towards her. Iris shrieked and dropped, rolling off the beam onto the ground. She looked up when she heard Tyr laughing. He was standing over her, the axe in his hand, bent double with laughter. She stood up and brushed herself off, glaring at Tyr. “Very funny, jerk. You might have warned me it was going to do that.”

He straightened up and tried to control his laughter, “I’m sorry, Iris, but the look on your face was just priceless.”

“I’m glad one of us is having a good time.” She grabbed the axe out of his hand, “I’m the one who has to worry about death if I don’t learn to use these things.”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. Don’t be so angry. Let’s try again.” He tossed another clump of dirt. Iris missed again, but was ready when the axe came back. She managed to grab the end of the handle out of the air, but was surprised by the power behind it. It took her off balance and knocked her into one of the support beams. She lost her grip on the axe and it fell to the ground behind her.

“Careful there, girl. These things have more power than you know.”

“Will they always come back?”

“Unless they’re lodged too deeply in something and can’t get free. The trick with them is to throw them hard enough that they go through whatever you’re throwing at and come right back to you. Now, on this next one, mind your form and be sure to follow the throw through with your arm. Don’t flick your wrist like a girl.”

She picked up the axe, determined to hit something this time. She felt the textured leather wrapped around the handles, felt the heft and balance, thought about how beautifully crafted they were. It seemed almost a sin to use them for something as simple as hitting wads of dirt out of the air. The next hunk of dirt Tyr threw seemed to be moving in slow motion, she threw the axe, watching it move and tumble through the air, willing it to hit the moving target. The blade shaved a quarter inch off one end of the dirt, then circled back to her. The handle hit her hand hard enough to sting; Iris moved with the momentum, just a little, then pushed back and steadied herself against it.

“Good, Iris, good!” She smiled, delighted with his approval. He threw another wad of dirt. Iris threw her axe, missed the dirt entirely, and couldn’t get a grip on the handle when it came back to her. Her face fell.

“You’re throwing like a girl again. Whatever you did last time, do it again.” She tried to focus on the axes again, tried to find her balance, but each time, she missed the dirt and each time the axe came back too hard, knocking her off balance when she tried to catch it.

“You’re flinching, girl. Don’t flinch when they come back to you. They need to be part of you, extensions of your body.”

She looked over at him and sighed. She’d lost track of how many times she’d thrown, and they were almost out of targets. She hadn’t been able to hit another target, nor catch the axe solidly when it returned.

“Alright, we’ll work on something else. You’re just getting frustrated and sloppy. Put them away.” She tried to shrink the axes back to earring-size, couldn’t do it, and wearily handed them to Tyr.

“I suck at this.”

He handed them back to her and she put them in her ears, “Buck up, girl. It’s only your first real day of training with them. I won’t expect miracles until tomorrow. Put your helmet away and we’ll have an early lunch, since neither of us ate a proper breakfast.”

She pulled her helmet off; she was hungry and a break sounded appealing. Iris realized Tyr was staring at her, “What?”

“Your helmet.”

“What about it?” She looked down and saw it had shrunk to nothing more than a doll’s helmet. “How did I do that?”

“Quick, try an axe.”

She pulled on out of her ear and tried to enlarge it. Nothing happened. She looked at the helmet again and willed it to grow. It did. She shrunk it again, then grew it, then shrunk it.

“Why can’t I do that with the axe?” She put her earring back on and looked around for somewhere to stow the helmet. Finally, she shoved it into the bodice of her armor, in the space between her breasts. It fitted perfectly. She shrugged a little and turned back to Tyr, “So, why can’t I make the axes work?”

“I don’t know. At least we know you can work magical objects. I’m sure the axes will come to you in time.”

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