Chapter 1
The Foundling
The war was finally over.
It had been many years since the Jotun invasion of Midgard had put the Asgardians on the offensive. The slaughter had been unimaginable, much had been lost or ruined, and the Jotuns had suffered for their aggression. But it was over now.
Odin, King of Asgard, climbed slowly down the steps leading to the temple and the sacred plaza. Above him, the wind shrieked around the tower where he had just received King Laufey's surrender. Not far away, the army of Asgard was regrouping to return home. The first units had already crossed the Bifrost; very soon, Odin would join them.
He was tired, tired to the bone. The fight that day had cost him his eye, and the messy wound made the whole side of his head ache and blurred the vision in his remaining eye. He stumbled on the last step and paused, leaning on the shaft of his spear.
Approaching footsteps made him look up. It was one of his captains, Freyr by the look of him. The younger man marched up and snapped a smart salute.
"Allfather," he said. "The Jotun prisoners are secure. Your orders?"
"Let them go," Odin replied.
"Let them – Sire?"
"Let them go," he repeated. "Their king has been defeated, the source of their power has been seized, their city has been destroyed. Let them go; they have been beaten enough."
"But what about making an example? What about the ringleaders? If we let them go they might rise up –"
"And if we are cruel they certainly will. There has been enough slaughter, Freyr. Let us be merciful. Let us show them how civilized men deal."
Freyr hesitated, then bowed and left to carry out the order. Odin watched him go before turning and continuing his labored march.
He found himself walking through the Jotuns' temple, the place where both their Casket and their king had been housed. The fighting had been fiercest here; half-frozen pools of mingled Jotun and Asgardian blood stained the hem of Odin's cloak as he passed. He wanted desperately to rest, but there would be a time for that later. Right now his people needed him to be strong, so he would give them their strong king.
It was a lie, of course; the ache in his bones and the throbbing pain in his face reminded him of his vulnerability. I've been wounded, like so many others. And if I can be wounded, I can die, too. Just like so many others. The thought chilled him. His thoughts turned homeward, to his beloved queen Frigga, who in all their years of marriage had never borne him a child. With no heir to the throne, who would lead Asgard if misfortune befell its king? Odin paused in the middle of the temple.
At first he thought it was the wind, wailing in some distant recess of the temple. But that had been constant since his arrival; this sound was new. Straining his ears, he cast about for its source, following it at last to what he recognized as the royal chambers. Entering, he came up short, surprised by what he saw.
In the middle of the floor lay an infant, no more than a few days old and much smaller than a normal Jotun child. It lay uncovered on a worn and dirty blanket, a filthy rag bound haphazardly around its bottom. It kicked feebly and wailed its misery.
Odin stepped forward quickly and scooped the child up with one arm, looking around for some sign of its caretaker. The room showed every sign of a hasty evacuation: belongings lay strewn about, all of them broken or useless in some way. There was no food, no useful implement, none of the gold and ivory the Jotuns were so fond of. Nothing of value had been left except the child, and from its ill-kept appearance he wondered if it had been counted as valuable.
As if it sensed a friendly presence, the baby stopped wailing and opened its bleary newborn eyes, whimpering piteously. How could someone be so hard-hearted as to abandon an innocent child? he thought. How is it that I long for a child and have none, while another cares so little for the child she has borne that she leaves it to die? He tucked the baby inside his cloak next to his body. Oh, little one, if you were mine, I would not have left you.
An idea occurred to Odin then, and he sat down on a slab of ice to ponder it. As he thought, he watched the tiny child, and what he saw surprised him and confirmed his budding plan. The infant, warmed by the heat of the big man's body, had begun to change color, the ice blue of the Jotun fading rapidly to be replaced by pale pink flesh. The infant's eyes had even begun to change from red to deep blue-grey.
Why, he looks no different from an Asgardian child! Yes, this will do perfectly.