Chapter 6 - Transfigured
Long after the two gods had fled, Hela continued to shriek until her throat hurt and her arms were sore from clawing the mist that crowded her. She thought her heart would give out from sheer terror. Her panicked and labored breathing worsened as her throat tightened. The wisps that made up the cloud were opaque as lamb's wool, and after a few moments more of flailing and crying out she realized that they were as soft as lamb's wool as well. A shock of understanding suddenly tore through her exhausted body.
They were singing.
They were singing to her; circling her in what scraps were left of their precious life forces.
She tilted back her head and listened.
"I am Raghild; I died of pneumonia when I was still in the cradle - "
"I am Audgisil; executed for cowardice by - "
"Help me - "
"Feed me - "
"Lovely little girl - "
"Guide me - "
A spirit lovingly caressed the left side of her face. "Beautiful," it sang.
"Help us - "
"I am Ingibjorg, who died in my sleep in my 78th winter - "
"We welcome you - "
"I am Thrand and I want to play in the grass - "
"Welcome - "
"My mother pushed me into our hearth fire - I am Ulfeid."
"Hold me - "
"Someone has finally come for us - "
"I want to see my husband again - "
"Welcome - "
"We love you - "
"Little daughter of Loki - "
"Welcome - "
"Love - you - "
She began to answer them with her thoughts, the left side of her body singing along with theirs as like met like.
I will feed you I will show you the way to your mother your son your husband your grandfather I will shelter you from evil and want and fear I will do that for you and more oh yes I will I promise
Hela sighed as she relaxed into the cloud of spirits and they held her; levitated her above the cold ground so that the toes of her small shoes merely brushed the earth; whispered love in her ears again and again and again.
"Well, then; let's get started, shall we?" a low masculine voice said, causing Hela to start nearly out of her skin. Instantly, the spirits fled, leaving the girl to fall to the ground with a jarring thump.
Dizzy now and confused once again, she looked up to see a man standing before her - a man bearing a scythe in his right hand. He was hideously gaunt; his cheekbones were as curved and pronounced as his scythe. His face was long and his eyes were fathomless. Short black hair clung to his skull. He wore a black robe and a silver ring with a white stone.
He extended his long thin hand and helped her to her feet. Hela nodded, knowing full well who he was.
"Kneel and kiss My ring, Hela Lokisdottir," the being intoned.
She did so, then gazed at him steadily, not having any idea what to expect.
"I have many agents such as you in many pantheons," Death said. "A death angel here, a death god or goddess there. It matters not to Me. Your job will be to guard the souls that come to you and to judge the good or evil in their hearts."
"How can I see it? I am just a child," Hela asked.
Death held out his thumb and pressed it against her forehead. A bolt of pure energy shot through her, causing her knees to buckle. Frantically looking down, she thought she saw something like trails of mist coming from under her fingernails. They rose and curled before her eyes. Her heart and body and soul subtly rearranged themselves in some immutable and incomprehensible way. From that moment on, she knew she would never be the same.
"You will simply know. No one will cheat you, because no one cheats Me. No one will thwart you, so long as you carry out My will. Death is final; no one can wish or pray or will it away. It is the way of things. You will resist offers of bargain and preserve the natural order at all cost. Also, you will govern matters here in this realm. Decide who goes where, and whatnot. I care not for such trifles. Build yourself a home. Decorate it if you like. Populate it with whatever creatures amuse you. But do not forget for one second what you are. Others will try to use you. I am particularly concerned about your father - some sort of trickster god in this realm, is he?"
Hela Half-Rotted nodded.
"Trickster gods are always troublesome. However, he is of no consequence to Me. But he is of great consequence to you. You must guard against his manipulations, and the wiles of any man or god who will try to bend your powers to his will. Do you understand?
"Yes," the girl replied.
"Your appearance goes very nicely with the job. I think a little fear helps impress newcomers with the gravity of their situations."
Hela shrugged. "I am ugly and weak and malformed."
"Very well, then, girl. Here," Death said, touching her forehead with his thumb once again. "I can see that your insides are a bit twisted. You should be able to breathe better now." The being shook his head in amazement. "Such a sparse and bony little thing; why the leader of your gods chose you to represent Me is beyond my comprehension."
Hela looked down to see that she stood a little straighter and felt stronger than she ever had. It felt good and she whispered her thanks to Death. "Can you fix my face, sir?" she added quietly, knowing in advance what the answer would be.
"Your face suits you. I'm certain you now realize that you were born to this. It will be a relief for you not to have to pretend to be like everyone else any longer."
The girl sighed deeply and absorbed his words. They were true and she supposed she had always known it. A moment passed between them. "How do I collect the souls?"
"You don't. The so-called Aesir have their Valkyries. You have these." He waved his hand and beings slowly rose from the ground; creatures without discernible faces and limbs; creatures that were as amorphous as smoke. Within a few seconds they solidified into living shapes dressed in black. Some were male, some were female. Their eyes were black and their faces were utterly without expression.
There were thousands of them. Hela resisted the urge to shriek.
"You can go reaping yourself, of course, but most in your position tire of it quickly. These servants will reap the souls for you," Death continued, his voice a trifle less intimidating. "They know My commands. All you need do is to welcome their charges as they come into your realm. They will go back out and continue to reap. That is what they do; they have no other reason to exist. They have been doing it since the beginning of time."
The girl nodded.
"Occasionally, a soul will come to you on its own. Don't concern yourself unduly. Sometimes fate drives them along their own paths."
Death looked at the child's puzzled face and sighed.
"Some die and know it not. They linger for ages in the homes they once inhabited or cling to members of their own families, who will just waste away and die like all mortals. But time passes and houses and the bones of their beloveds crumble into powder; it is then that fate propels them on their paths to you."
"How many shall I expect?" Hela asked.
"The ones you receive in this realm are those who believe in your gods and goddesses, or are part of that society. There are many others who serve Me - Hades, Yama, Anubis, Yeng-Wang-Yeh - their names escape me for the nonce. You are yet another servant of mine among their ranks. They reap the souls of their believers; you will reap yours. And that is the way of death in this sphere, Hela Lokisdottir. Do you swear to serve Me and to carry out these tasks under penalty of a most unpleasant afterlife for yourself?"
At this moment Hela had her first fully-formed adult thought. She knew for a certainty that she was caught as firmly and as fatally as an animal in a trap.
"I do, Lord Death," she replied, resigned.
The being nodded, then dissolved away to become part of the heavy mists of Niflheim. The reapers glided away, toward the entrance to the realm of death. Nothing remained but utter silence.
Hela simply stood there, overwhelmed, until she fell to her knees and began to sob.