Storm's Eye

Part 14/20

In the House of Iwaldi. . .

"Sigunn?" Her father's eyes swept over her. "How is it that you are here? And with. . ."

His gaze drifted away, and without waiting for her to speak, he stared again at the men behind her, and his shoulders straightened.

"You are welcome to the House of Iwaldi, Princes."

The steward, who had backed all the way into the corner of the room, bowed almost double. The servant Bergr's hands worked nervously at his sides, his neck bent so sharply that his face was hidden and only the top of his head was visible.

Vidar twitched a glare at him and snapped, "Bergr, food and wine. At once."

"Of course, my lord," the man stammered, He bowed, deeply, in Thor's general direction and added an abrupt bob toward Loki. "My Lords."

And he scuttled out. Vidar looked over at the steward, hunched in the corner, and jerked his chin toward the door. With a frightened glance at the princes, he fled, the stiff length of his strides only just short of a run.

Vidar bent the neck once more, to Thor, and said, "My House is honored by your presence, sons of Odin." His eyes flickered toward Loki, and something that might have been fear glimmered in them.

Thor crossed his arms over his chest, inclining his head slightly in response to the greeting. But Loki lifted his chin, looking down at the man, eyes frosted with disdain under lowered lids. After a moment, he said, "Your House is more honored in its own seed. In the valor and courage of your eldest daughter."

Thor's eyes slid briefly to Loki, a spark of surprise flaring for an instant. But his brother's eyes remained fastened on Vidar's face, his expression hardening with each breath as Vidar continued to stare at Thor, the man's face clearly revealing his disbelief: the crown prince of the Realm was standing in his study; the sons of Odin were guests in his House! Loki shifted his weight, then, blatantly turning his shoulders so that his whole being was focused on the daughter rather than the father. After a moment, Thor, with another sidelong glance at his brother, did the same.

Reluctantly, Vidar returned his gaze to Sigunn. She hadn't moved.

"Are you well?" he asked awkwardly.

"I am, Father. Though there are those who would have it otherwise."

He smiled, a condescending grimace, shaking his head, "Who would wish it so?"

She drew in a long breath, studying him warily. "You, Father."

His face blanched. His eyes slid away from her once more, and in the silence that followed and grew as he groped for a response, Sigunn knew that her father had indeed sold her to destruction, a knowledge that rose up like a bitter tide, choking her throat and blinding her eyes.

Loki moved, one step forward, and said, voice low, "We will leave you to it, my lady."

For a moment, his eyes held hers, and she found in them an anchor against the rancid wave of grief threatening to unmoor her: a cold, towering rage risen up on her behalf. Her throat loosened; she could breathe once more. Loki's eyes lifted to catch Thor's gaze. Thor nodded, and spun on his heel toward the door.

"No, Loki." Sigunn's voice was soft, but both men turned at once, back to her. Vidar's eyes widened at the ease with which his daughter commanded the attention of the Princes of the Realm, and then narrowed, glittering suddenly with half-formed speculations.

Sigunn felt the heat of her own anger rising, and she welcomed it. "No, for what is to be said in this room concerns us all. Lady Sif is Prince Thor's dear friend, and you are. . ."

". . .asta. . ." her mind whispered.

". . .my friend, and I have no secrets from you. Stay and hear my father's words."

He searched her face, before nodding slowly and saying, "So be it." He glanced over at Thor, who nodded as well, and both of them sat, in two chairs on either end of the table.

Vidar shifted, his face working uneasily. "And what words would you hear from me? I am. . .amazed that you would think I wish you ill. That you would say such things in front of . . .these men."

Sigunn turned back to face him. "But that is always the way of it, with you, Father, is it not? Are you more concerned with this accusation I make, or the fact that I wound your pride by making it before the Princes of Asgard?"

"The accusation, of course, daughter. Mind your tongue." His voice sharpened.

Loki stirred, an aborted, angry movement. Sigunn's eyes flashed. "Then will you hear my accusation, and answer it, with the sons of Odin as witnesses?"

His eyes wavered. With visible effort, he softened his tone. "What need have we of witnesses? You are my daughter; I do not wish you ill."

"Then you can have no objection to answering me freely, whatever I may ask."

"As long as you ask as a daughter should. I will have no disrespect from you."

Sigunn leaned forward, her voice cold. "You have forfeited the right to my respect."

"In what way?"

"In selling me to the House of Halfdan."

He backed away, a step, raising both hands. "Wait a moment, girl! A pledge of marriage is not a bill of sale! Heed your words."

"It is indeed a bill of sale, if the purpose at hand is not wedded bliss but is instead the payment of some debt!"

He stiffened, his entire body frozen but for his eyes, which slid toward the tall windows that lined the eastern wall of the room. Thick silence blossomed.

Finally, he said, "What debt?" His fingers moved restlessly, creasing a fold in the rich cloth of his tunic and smoothing it out again, over and over.

"That you must teach me, Father, for I know nothing of it. But it must be a great debt indeed, to necessitate the death of your firstborn!"

He sat suddenly, in an armed chair pulled alongside the table. His gaze left her face, and studied the floor at his feet. Finally, he said, his voice strained, "I have not sold you into death. Only marriage. Only that."

"Truly? Do you truly not know the fate that the Halfdanir have marked out for me?"

She walked around the table, and crouched down, looking up into her father's face. "Truly, Father? Can it be that you did not know?"

He looked away from her, to Thor's stern face and then to Loki's icy, blazing eyes. Finding no solace in either place, finally, he looked again at the upturned face before him.

She sat back on her heels, her face bleak. "You did know. About the eldjotun."

A spasm of startled chagrin twisted his lips, as she uttered that word, and then his shoulders slumped.

Silence. At last, he whispered, "Yes. Curses on him. Curses on them all."

Thor's voice rumbled, "You must tell us what you know of him."

Vidar slumped further into his chair, despair etching deep lines on either side of his mouth. "I know little. He is a fire giant. A jotun." As he spit out the final word, he looked up suddenly, at Loki, and his eyes glittered with mingled fear and disdain.

Loki shook his head. "That won't do. You have long been aware that your estimable neighbors were harboring a known enemy of Asgard, and yet you said nothing. Those are the actions of a traitor."

Raw fear blazed up in Vidar's eyes. "I am not traitor! I had no choice!"

"Prove your loyalty, then. Tell us all you know."

Thor growled, "Would he take shelter openly at the Halfdanir estate?"

Vidar sat, silently, and then, with a sigh, he said, "No doubt. But nothing that one does is open. He has disembodied himself, and always uses a human vessel, whom he enters and leaves by means of blood."

Thor and Loki exchanged a glance.

Loki murmured, "A bloodspell. Dwarven magic is often rooted in blood."

Sigunn met his eyes and said softly, "Flames and blood."

Thor said, "I have seen that wound. And that means that Sif will be injured, perhaps gravely, when we persuade him to abandon her."

Loki raised a brow at him. "'When'? Say rather 'if', Thor." To Vidar he said, voice clipped, "Is there a moment of weakness, or disorientation, when he leaves his human vessel?"

Vidar frowned, "Perhaps. A little." He spread his hands. "You must understand, Prince, that I have seen it happen only rarely."

Sigunn's face had grown pale. Suddenly she said, "He uses Theoric. . .He has long used Theoric. . .Father, are you saying that the eldjotun was present in Theoric whenever the Halfdanir visited us?"

He looked away. "Yes, daughter."

"Why?" It was a cry.

A silence. Finally he said, "I think perhaps you know the answer to that."

'And yet still you would honor the pledge made to them?"

"I must."

She stood, eyes filled with a dark pain that stood out starkly against her white face. "Why, Father? If you know that their intention for me will surely lead to my death."

He straightened, his eyes flaring with momentary anger. "I know no such thing!"

"Then tell me how else an Idisi woman may be separated from her fire?"

He shook his head, the fire draining away as quickly as it had sparked. He said, dully, "I know not. I know only that the debt must be paid."

The door swung open again, just then, and Bergr hurried in, bearing a tray of winecups, and a gilded flagon. His eyes skimmed hurriedly through the room, face paling as the heavy tension laid itself over his shoulders, and he scurried to a sideboard, filling cups from the flagon with such haste that rich purple wine splashed out and pooled on the tray. His face tight, he proffered the tray first to Thor, who took a cup and raised it to expressionless lips, and then to Loki. The tray shook in his hands; the cups rattled faintly. Thor slanted a dark glance at him from under lowered brows; Loki reached for a cup without taking his eyes from Sigunn.

Rounding the table, Bergr approached his master, who looked up as if seeing him for the first time. "That will do, man," he said, voice tired.

Bergr hesitated, his eyes sliding to Sigunn. Very slightly he raised the tray, but she shook her head.

Without another sound he fled the room, his eagerness to be gone evident in the hunched posture of his back.

As the door swung silently closed, Sigunn said, "What debt, Father?"

He stirred in the chair, looking past her to the windows. Thor swallowed another mouthful of the wine, his eyes flickering toward Loki.

Slowly, she repeated, "What debt?"

Finally, with a sigh, and with the slow, cramped movements of a much older man, Vidar stood. Still without looking at Sigunn, he walked to the window, and reached down, and grasped the window's broad sill. There was an anguished creak, the protest of old, stiff wood, as he lifted the sill, revealing a shallow cavity underneath, filled with rolls of parchment, and several small leather bags secured at their necks with tightly knotted thongs.

Slowly he withdrew one of the rolls, a thick sheaf of raggedly-trimmed sheets, and slid his thumb under the crumbling wax wafer that sealed it shut. He stood, head bowed, his chest rising and falling in one long breath, and then he came back to the table, and handed it to Sigunn.

She reached out, fingers trembling, and unrolled it, bending to smooth the sheets unto the table's hard surface. She looked over at Loki, who nodded, his eyes intent on her face. Vidar returned to his chair and slowly sat, and, after a moment, buried his face in his hands.

"Read it," he said tonelessly. "Read it aloud before the sons of Odin."

"What is it?"

"It is the account of the debt, written by Iwaldi's younger son."

She lifted the first sheet, and began to read.

"In the days of war, between the fire giants of Muspelheim and the valiant warriors of Asgard, many Houses of great repute fell into ruin. . ."

"The Muspelheim Wars," Thor sat forward, brows raised. "That was long ages ago. Before the reign of my father. Before he closed the portals between Muspelheim and Asgard."

"Yes," Vidar said, raising his head to nod toward Thor, "this is an old story."

Loki's said, quietly, "Read on, Sigunn."

"Many houses of great repute fell into ruin, but there were also Houses rewarded with nobility for their loyalty and service to Asgard, and two of these were the House of Halfdan and the House of Iwaldi. For the battles raged fierce in the ancestral lands of these two Houses, and many flocked to fight under their banners."

"There was a portal there, a direct pathway between Muspelheim and Asgard." Vidar pointed through the window, toward the mountainside that loomed close across a narrow valley. "Whole armies of eldjotnar used it as a passageway. Many battles were fought in this valley, during those wars."

"In the height of the wars, when the eldjotnar again invaded their lands, seeking to subjugate all of the Southern Marches, Iwaldi called upon Halfdan to join him in battle and repel them. But Halfdan had grown rich in years and weary of war, and so he sent instead his only son and heir, Gunnar Halfdanson, to fight in his place. But he loved his son dearly, and thus, as the warriors mounted to ride and meet the foe, he took close counsel with Iwaldi and prevailed upon him to swear a blood oath, that he would fight as a brother side by side with Gunnar, and protect him from harm with his own life, should it become necessary. And Iwaldi swore this oath."

Sigunn looked up, her eyes stricken. "Why would Iwaldi do such a thing? A blood oath?"

Vidar shrugged. "Pride? Unshaken belief in his own valor? Who can say, from a vantage in time so far away? All that matters is that he did swear it, upon himself." He looked away, a muscle tightening in his cheek. "And upon his whole House."

"But it came to pass, that in the heat of battle, when pressed hard by no less than a prince among the fire giants. . ."

Sigunn paused, looking up to see Thor and Loki exchanging a grim look.

"Surely it cannot be the same one!" she exclaimed.

Her father said, "They are a long-lived people, the jotuns." His eye slanted toward Loki again, for a moment.

". . .that Iwaldi, in an act of great cowardice, thrust the lad Gunnar forward to take the brunt of the eldjotun's wrath, and fled himself to safety, abandoning the son of Halfdan to certain death."

Sigunn's voice faded. Thor grunted, deep in his throat, the pained response of a warrior to battlefield treachery. Vidar's hand pressed hard against his brow, the knuckles whitening. Loki said savagely, "He broke the oath."

Vidar was silent.

After a moment, Sigunn swallowed and lifted the parchment again.

"But Gunnar fought with a will of iron and the spirit of his fathers, and, though mortally wounded, escaped the fire giant's dreadful grip. He stumbled through the battlefield, the blackness of death pursuing him, until he found the men of Halfdan locked in battle with the enemy. In horror they left the fray and brought him to his father, still alive, but only just.

Great was Halfdan's despair and sorrow, a hot grief converted into soaring wrath when his son regained his wits only long enough to tell his father of Iwaldi's treachery in battle. Gunnar Halfdanson died in great pain, and grievous suffering.

Cold then was Halfdan's fury, colder than midwinter's fiercest blast, and colder still his desire for vengeance upon the House of Iwaldi. And he took it into his heart to commit an act of great evil.

For he returned to the battlefield where his son had fallen, and called truce upon the fire giants who had returned in the night to gather their dead, and demanded to hold counsel with their leader.

A fearful bargain was struck, between the ghastly prince of the fire giants and Halfdan the Grieved. For the eldjotnar's power would compel a heavy wergild to be paid out of the estate of Iwaldi into the lands of the Halfdanir, through every generation to come. Every generation of the Iwaldir will pay, or face the jotun's wrath, and so the House of Halfdan will grow evermore in wealth and power. And greater still. . ."

Sigunn's voice faltered. She let the sheet of parchment fall and stood with head bowed. After a moment, she picked it up again, and handed it across to Loki, wordlessly.

Slowly he read aloud.

". . .greater still, in payment for the eldjotun's aid, the House of Halfdan demands of the House of Iwaldi one of their own, an Idisi girl-child, when one shall be born in the generations to come that bears the battlefire of the Idir.

So shall the House of Halfdan beggar the Iwaldir, and so shall the eldjotun be satisfied.

Thus I have written it. Thus it has been. Thus it shall be."

Sigunn raised her eyes, ablaze with furious pain. "The fire in the stable. . .the guilt I have always felt. It matters not! The Halfdanir have always known about the battlefire!"

"Yes."

"And you have always known! This is why the House of Iwaldi has been so careful to preserve the line of the Idisi mothers-so that one day the shameful debt could finally be paid in full!"

Her father looked at her. "You have been lost to us since the day you were born. Since the moment we saw the battlefire burning in your infant eyes."

Hands shaking, Sigunn lifted the final sheet that lay on the table, a thick, deeply-inscribed document: a pledge of marriage alliance between two Houses. There, printed with a dark red fluid that could only be blood, was the mark of a childish hand. Theoric. And next to it, the tiny handprint of a newborn infant, with the name in runes beneath it: Sigunn Vidardottir.

"How could you?" she whispered.

Vidar's eyes blazed. "It is a blood-debt! It must be paid!"

"Some debts are not meant to be paid!"

"The family's honor. . ."

"And what of your greater oath, Father? Did not the House of Iwaldi swear to protect the Idisi mothers? And am I not the last of their seed? What of that? Where is the honor in that?"

He turned away, his shoulders bowed. "Idir or no, the blood-debt must be paid."

"I am your daughter!"

"You are the payment." He put his hands to his head, his whole body doubling over. "Hel take us all, you are the payment!"

A thunderous silence fell. Thor and Loki were both on their feet.

Finally, Sigunn whispered, "No."

There was no answer but her father's harsh, broken breathing.

"No," her voice strengthened. "I will not be the sacrifice to Iwaldi's foolish pride and dreadful cowardice."

She picked up the pledge. Slowly she held out the heavy sheet with a hand that no longer shook. Unwillingly, as if a power outside of himself compelled it, her father's hand lifted and took it from her.

"Break it, Father." Her voice vibrated with fury. "Break the pledge and free me from the House of Halfdan."

He seemed frozen, his eyes staring down at the document as if all the universe had shrunk to that one square of parchment.

She lifted one hand and placed it over his, and with the other she cupped her father's chin and raised his head so that his eyes were forced to meet hers.

"Break it," she said. "Honor the House's oath to the Idisi mothers, and spurn the cursed Halfdanir! Show the courage that all of your fathers did not."

With a painful, rasping gasp, Vidar grasped the ancient parchment in his two fists, and then, lips pulled back in a grimace of fear and pain, he slowly ripped it in two.

He let the pieces fall.

Sigunn stepped back, her hand to her breast, her eyes fixed, for a long moment, on the fallen halves of the pledge. Then, swiftly she stooped and picked them up. She rolled them tightly, and thrust them into her belt alongside the horsehead dagger. Her eyes sought Loki, swirling with a strange mixture of cold rage and warm exultation.

Vidar sat, gazing sightlessly into the middle distance, eyes hollow. "My name is lost. My honor is lost. The eldjotun prince will destroy me. And how shall I answer the House of Halfdan?" His eyes focused on Sigunn. "They will never agree to release you."

Sigunn's face tightened. "Your name is your own, Father. And as for the Halfdanir, leave them to me." She looked over at Thor, and then back to Loki. "To us."

Thor growled, "They will answer to the House of Odin."

Vidar's head swiveled toward him, his eyes dull with fear. "And why should the House of Odin speak for the House of Iwaldi?"

Thor looked over at Loki, whose eyes were locked on Sigunn, a fierce light glowing in their depths.

Thor said, slowly, "We have our reasons. . ."

"And the fire giant?"

"That's one of our reasons."

Just then, the door swung open once more, revealing Bergr hovering nervously on the threshhold.

"My lord," he said, clearing his throat, "There is food prepared, and hot baths, and guest chambers. . ."

Vidar stood. Slowly, he said, "Will you be my guests, princes? Or will you ride at once into battle?"

Loki tilted his head toward the windows, where the deepening purple of dusk had veiled the mountains from sight.

Thor's brow lowered. "We will not be so foolish as to attack him at night, when the advantage is his. We will stay here this night, and in the morning we will pay a visit to the House of Halfdan, and see if perhaps they are playing host to a fire giant."

Loki sat elegantly sprawled across a low chair in the antechamber of the estate's bath-house, a crackling fire throwing its shifting light over the somber angles of his face. His hair lay black and wet along his shoulders. He'd conjured himself another new tunic and breeches, pointedly ignoring the selection of thick woolen robes and soft furs piled thoughtfully for guests in an open chest beside the door. He wanted no gifts from the House of Iwaldi.

In the bath-house proper, beyond an arched door, he could hear the mumbled words and carelessly-hummed tune of an old, old drinking song, as well as the occasional splash: Fandral. There was a sudden squelching thud, a cake of soap hitting the floor, and a muttered oath. Loki's mouth twitched, and he lifted two fingers, flicking them abruptly sideways. The slippery whisper of soap sliding unevenly across the floor; Fandral's oaths grew proportionately louder. There were some damp, splashing footsteps.

The corners of Loki's eyes wrinkled as his mouth stretched into a smile, but the jest held his attention for only a moment. His face smoothed again, and he stared into the fire, his eyes dark pools of thought.

The chamber door flung wide, letting in a gust of cold night air that set the fire to frantic dancing. Thor strode in, carefully balancing three brimming bowls on a tray in one hand, and three large tankards gripped in the other fist. He'd re-donned his armor, and tied his hair back into an impatiently-gathered tail. Loki glanced at him, briefly, face expressionless, and then resumed his contemplation of the fire. The odors of lamb stew and mead mingled with the faint woody tinge of smoke.

With a metallic ring, Thor lowered the tankards to a table in the corner, and then, after a slightly-doubtful consideration of Loki's face, picked up two of the bowls and approached the fire. He offered Loki one of the bowls.

When Loki shook his head, Thor said, after a moment, "Surely you are hungry."

Loki said grimly, "I have no stomach for any largesse from the House of Iwaldi."

"Not even food?"

Silence. Loki looked into the fire and murmured, "There is only one thing I want from this House."

"Ah. Yes."

After a moment, Thor balanced the bowls on the arm of Loki's chair and then crouched down, lifting a poker from the gilded rack beside the firepit and thrusting it at random into the fire, lifting one log and letting it fall again, releasing a spiraling column of sparks.

"You must put aside those sentiments," he said, slotting a sidelong glance at Loki and intercepting an ironic grimace in return. "We face a great battle tomorrow, and we must press every advantage we can. Build our strength where we can."

He dropped the poker and picked up his own bowl, lifting the spoon toward his lips.

"What a pity," Loki said, "that I have so few advantages to press."

Silence, a thick, uneasy silence this time. Finally, Thor said, "We must form some sort of plan. We cannot simply ride up to the door and announce ourselves."

Loki said, "The first task is to persuade the eldjotun to release Lady Sif."

Thor nodded, his eyes sliding from the fire to his brother's face.

"And I fear it will take a great deal of persuasion."

Thor chewed, swallowed. "You will think of a way, Loki. You always do."

"Your confidence in me is touching," Loki's voice was cold. "But I wonder if you have considered the true disadvantage in which we find ourselves."

Thor took another bite. "We've often been in such situations."

"Not like this."

"Why is this any different? What about that time in. . ."

"Because I am chained, Thor!" Loki interrupted. "I trust you haven't forgotten. I am chained." He bit off each word with bitter emphasis.

"But you defeated an entire army of trolls today, Loki, chained or no."

Loki looked away, his jaw suddenly stiff. "That was illusion, Thor, and a simple one at that, not some grand victory. And yet such childish devices are the only weapons left to me. What was it you said to me, once? 'Some do battle, while others do tricks'?

Thor laid his bowl down and bent solemn eyes on his brother, until his silence compelled Loki to return his gaze. Gravely, then, he said, "I would hope that you would leave such foolish words in the past. Where they belong."

Loki chuckled, humorlessly. "Sigunn told me today that the past should not be allowed to build fortresses in the present."

Thor studied him, and then nodded. "She is right."

After a long moment, Loki said, "Perhaps."

Thor stood, and crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at his brother. "That may have been what you deem a 'simple trick' today, brother, but it was valiant and clever and saved all of us. You can do the same again, with the fire giant."

Loki shook his head. "An eldjotun prince is a greater foe altogether than a flock of stupid, weak-minded trolls, easily deceived. And even that weapon is denied me, Thor. The fire giant can penetrate a glamour; he has already shown that. He did it with ease, back at the tavern."

The planes of Thor's face tightened.

Loki smiled sourly. "So, you see, my bag of tricks is blowing rather empty in the wind."

Thor rounded on him. "You are more than a bag of tricks, brother. Just as I am more than a Hammer." He lifted a hand, and, after a hesitation, laid it on Loki's shoulder. "You will think of something,"

Loki shook his head, and stared into the fire, his eyes bleak. After a moment, he leaned forward, just enough so that Thor's hand fell away.

Fandral emerged from the bath house, pulling on a tunic with one hand and carrying his boots with the other. HIs eyes lighted at once on the bowls, and he exclaimed, "I say, food at last! Excellent hunting, Thor, although I'm sure the kitchen maids were more than pleased to. . ."

The fire in the pit flared brightly, gathering itself into a single tall blazing tongue, and then, with an audible whoosh, the flames flew upward and disappeared through the smoke-hole in the roof, plunging the room into darkness.

Thor could feel Loki's sudden, intense stillness. He heard his brother's indrawn breath, and his muttered "Sigunn. . ."

Then, with a vicious oath, Loki spun and ran from the chamber.