I lunge forward and open my mouth to shout, “That’s enough,” but Freyja backs away and turns to the Norse, making it unnecessary. “It is done!” she crows, apparently agreeing that she has meted out sufficient justice. She spreads her arms wide, sword dripping Atticus’s blood, enjoying the approval of the assembled deities and Valkyries, and I rush to his side and kneel next to him. His eyes are unfocused in shock already. I have a little bit of Gaia’s energy remaining in the silver reservoir of Scáthmhaide, and I use it to close off those pumping arteries and prevent him from bleeding to death.
“Do the Olympians bear witness?” Freyja says, and it’s such a strange question that I look up to see the Apollos nod, and then Athena and Minerva also.
Minerva’s cool rich voice says, “I will tell Diana and Bacchus it is done.”
Athena chimes in, “Artemis will be pleased.”
Minerva adds, “Of course, Diana wishes to have her trophy.”
“By all means. It is yours.”
I don’t know what kind of trophy they’re expecting and I tense when Minerva comes forward, wondering if she’s going to want his heart or something, but the goddess merely picks up Atticus’s severed arm from the ground.
“Mercury was supposed to deliver this message,” she says to Atticus, “but as he’s not here I will deliver it in his stead. Diana and Bacchus now consider their grievances with you satisfactorily concluded. You need not fear anything from them so long as you do nothing else to awaken their wrath. I imagine it is the same with Artemis?” She looks up at Athena, and her counterpart nods.
“It is.”
Minerva returns her gaze to Atticus. “Have you anything you wish me to say to them?”
Atticus shakes his head, his lips pressed tightly together as he takes deep breaths through his nose.
“Then fare thee well, Druid,” she says, and walks off with his arm, leaving Atticus no chance of reattaching it.
I crane my head around to see how Brighid’s taking this, and she is standing like an exhibit in the Hall of Armor at the Metropolitan Museum.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I ask her.
“I said plenty to both the Norse and the Olympians earlier. They were not allowed, under any circumstances, to kill him.”
“You allowed this?”
“I could hardly prevent it, Granuaile. They had serious grievances. Winning his life was the best victory I could expect.”
Gods, these gods. Making decisions about our lives without our consent—they just kept doing it.
“Am I to suffer some kind of judgment and sentence too?”
“No, you’re free to go,” Brighid says. “In fact, you need to go.”
“What? Why?” I turn back to where the Olympians had been standing and see that they’ve mounted the winged horses of some Valkyries, and they hold on as the Choosers of the Slain lift them above the hordes of draugar.
Freyja answers me as she wipes Atticus’s blood off her sword using some rags she had in her chariot. “We have some words to trade with him in private. He will come to no further harm.”
I have words I’d like to trade with her, but I bite them back. “Give me a moment, then?”
I get a scant nod, and then I turn to Atticus and try to pitch my words as low as possible, though it’s probably a futile effort when one is surrounded by deities.
“I’m so sorry about your arm. Relieved you’re still alive, though.”
He only nods at me, says nothing. I think he’s doing some stoic thing or simply trying to deny the Norse any satisfaction at hearing him in pain, and he’s scared that if he makes any sound right now it’ll come out as a scream. I know how that feels.
“We need to talk more,” I tell him, “but this is not the time or place. I will go home and fetch whatever you need, because you can’t shift—speaking of which, we need to get you out of here. Hold on.” I rise to my feet and find the Allfather, calling out to him, “Odin, may I strike a bargain? My winnings to you—all the Girl Scout Cookies I’m owed—in return for taking Atticus wherever he wants to go on Bifrost and then bringing his hounds to him there directly afterward.”
“Done!” Odin says, much quicker than I’d anticipated. He didn’t even have to think about it. He might have been intending to grant that favor anyway. Or he had an unhealthy obsession for Girl Scout Cookies—Frigg’s scowl at this development seemed to imply as much.
I squat down next to Atticus and lay a hand on his chest. “I will see you soon.” He nods twice, teeth clenched against pain, and then I rise again and sweep my staff around, pointing to all the deities and reminding them of what Freyja said. “No further harm.”
And then I run out of that circle of scheming immortals, race for the bound tree to the south, and let the tears I’d been holding back flow out and blur my vision. I counted that as a victory too: I had shed nothing—neither blood nor tears—in front of those inhuman creatures.
it’s perfectly natural to scream when one loses an arm at the edge of a blade, but beyond the first cry of surprise and pain, I shunted all the screaming I wanted to do into a different headspace, because giving voice to it would only give the Norse pleasure. Since there was very little else I could deny them, I would at least deny them that. But there was plenty of woe going on in that space as I realized that removing my arm had been Freyja’s goal all along. It wasn’t just my sword arm: It was also my ability to heal, to shift planes, and to take animal forms. I’d still be able to perform free-form bindings and would retain the rest of my skills, but my effectiveness as a champion for Gaia was much reduced. And my life as I’d lived it for more than two millennia was over. I’d never fly as an owl or run as a hound again. I’d never be able to travel the globe as I used to.
Granuaile came over to administer what was probably lifesaving first aid, but then she requested that Odin bring my hounds to me wheresoever I chose to be deposited, as if I would never choose to go home to the cabin in Oregon. I might be thick about a great many things, but even I could tell what that meant. My day of judgment would soon grow worse, for it was pretty clear that in my love’s eyes I had been found wanting.
I understood, finally, what Jesus meant when he warned me against going to Asgard, when he said I’d suffer pain like I’d never felt before. Because everything I felt right then—the great gnawing absence that nibbled at the edges of my will to live—wouldn’t heal up after a few weeks of convalescence. The physical pain would fade with time, but the emotions associated with the loss would stay sharp and prick me anew each day. Every time I wanted to slip into a river and play around as an otter or take wing as a great horned owl, I’d have to remain awkwardly human and remember I had only myself to blame. Oh, there was plenty of anguish bubbling away in that headspace. But I brought Old Norse to the fore as Freyja approached. She picked up Fragarach from the ground and took a knee next to me.
“This sword will be my trophy. I personally think you should have been killed, because I am not persuaded that you have come close to balancing the scales, but Brighid and some others lobbied in your favor.” She leaned closer. “I have to go clean up your mess now, because the draugar are entering Skoghall.”
I flick my eyes to the mass of bodies streaming past us and realize it’s the Einherjar and dwarfs, in pursuit of the draugar. “Wherever you choose to go after this, Druid, make sure it’s far from here. You are not welcome in the lands of the Norse from this day forward. So long as you respect that condition, you have nothing to fear from us now.”
I give her a nod and nothing more.
“I hope you forget that after some time passes,” she murmured, low and menacing. “I hope you trespass and give me an excuse to finish this. Please do.” She leaves, taking Fragarach with her, and Brighid comes over, her helmet off now that danger has passed.
“Ireland is safe and thus is Tír na nÓg. I know you do not feel it now and may resent my part in this, Siodhachan, but know this: I believe you have done much good today. If I may grant you a boon in the future, call on me.” I saw her hesitate, on the verge of saying more, but she decided against it with a tiny shake of her head and said farewell.