Fenris & Mott, page 10
Thrudi grunted. “Speak your message and say no more, messenger.”
Hermod looked to the ceiling. He looked to the walls. Finally, reluctantly, he looked at Mott with haunted eyes.
“I know where your mother is,” he said. “She’s in Helheim.”
14
IT SNOWED ASHES IN LOS Angeles.
Mott watched deep orange flames spread over the Hollywood hills like lava, consuming brush and houses. Every one of those houses was home to a person, a family, someone with old photo albums and a grandmother’s handwritten recipes on index cards. Every lost house belonged to someone with pets. Someone with a life.
Haze turned the afternoon sunlight to an eerie red. Helicopters braved the smoke, disappearing into a wall of black clouds. But even through the smoke, the moon shone, an amber disc the size of a pancake.
Mott dragged out her root beer journal. She’d already checked off “Surtur, flame-wielding, sets the land on fire.”
That left only two items unchecked:
The wolf Fenris swallows the moon and sun.
An age of axes. An age of swords. And an age of wolves, till the world goes down.
Fenris lifted his head to the sky. “Aroo,” he said in an attempted howl.
Mott petted his shoulders. “Shhh, puppy, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
It had to be okay.
Fenris had to be okay.
Mott’s mom had to be okay.
Mott had to make it okay before it was too late.
If it wasn’t too late already.
Hermod had led Mott and Thrudi and Fenris to the Grove, an outdoor shopping center near the art museum.
“You said you know where my mother is.” Grit coated the back of Mott’s throat. Her lungs burned.
Hermod spread his arms in a grand gesture. “She’s here. In Helheim.”
Despite the grainy air, people went in and out of stores. They carried bags. They pushed strollers. They looked at their phones. They rubbed red eyes and brushed ash off their clothes. They ate frozen yogurt and coughed in the smoke. The world was burning around them, and they shopped.
“This isn’t Helheim,” Thrudi scoffed. “This is a marketplace.”
Mott picked a flake of ash out of Fenris’s white fur. “We call it a shopping mall. I thought Helheim was the land of the dead.”
Hermod cleared his throat. “Maybe we disagree on the definition of living.”
Thrudi gave up all show of bowing and politeness and manners. “If we wanted riddles, we’d go to Loki.”
A man emerged from a shoe shop with a box of new shoes and a hacking cough. He dusted ash out of his hair and retreated from the smoke into an eyeglass store.
“Helheim is a place of hopelessness,” Hermod said. “Do you see hope here? All I see is habit. Shopping. Accumulating. These people are raking fields where crops will never grow. They’re plucking twigs instead of fruit. They’re—”
“Where is my mom?” Mott snapped, her throat raw with smoke. She had no more patience for talk. She’d faced Vidar and Tew and Fenris’s parents. She’d chased a dead man’s hand and been chased by walking mummies. All of it was weird and frightening. But those were her choices. Her mom hadn’t asked for any of this.
“I’m here, Mott.”
Mott spun around.
Her mother’s face was drawn with stress. A deep frown creased her forehead, but Mott didn’t see any wounds or injuries.
“Are you okay, honey?”
“I’m okay, Mom.”
Behind her mother, not touching her but close enough if he wanted to, was Vidar.
Mott reached out her hand. “Come here, Mom.”
The lines in her mother’s face grew even deeper. “I can’t. I can’t move. This man . . . he’s done something to me.”
“Magic,” Thrudi said.
Mott gritted her teeth. “You let her go, Vidar. Right now, or I’ll . . .”
Vidar shook his head, just slightly, a little sadly. “I admire your courage. On another day, I would gladly fight beside you. But this is no ordinary day. I have a task. And you, Mott, have a choice. You can agree to a trade. You can give me the beast and spend the world’s last moments in the comfort and care of your mother. Or you can delay me from serving my function. If that is your choice, I will still tear the beast asunder, and your mother will suffer.”
“I don’t understand any of this.” Her mom’s voice shook. “I don’t know who any of these people are or what’s going on. But I want you to walk away right now, Mott. It’ll be fine. I’ll be okay.”
Mott was only dimly aware of everything around her. The sky was red, the moon looming. There were people gawking. Some snapping pictures or video with their phones. Some choking in the thickening smoke. And others continuing to shop at the end of the world.
Somebody large moved in Mott’s peripheral vision: Tew. The war god’s ax was slung over his shoulder. He slurped an iced mocha through a straw.
“I warn you, Tew . . . ,” Vidar began.
“No, no, don’t worry about me. I’m going to wait to see how this conflict plays out. Then, after that, you and I can settle our differences.” He took another slurp.
Thrudi drew her sword. The crowd went “Oooooh.”
Vidar closed his eyes. “I have always respected the Valkyries, and I would take no pride in killing you.”
“I’m already in Helheim, and the day runs short,” Thrudi said. “What does it matter if I’m alive or dead?”
Tew took yet another slurp of his mocha.
“Hey, guys, c’mon, why don’t you let the girl’s mother go,” Hermod said, raising his hands in a peacemaking gesture. “If the prophecy is true, things will happen the way they’re supposed to. No need to be big jerks about it.”
“You have already performed your role, messenger,” Vidar answered. “You may leave now if you wish. You must have precious time to waste elsewhere.”
Fenris thumped his little tail against the pavement, splintering the concrete below his feet like a taco shell. He opened his mouth, and the air pressure dropped so quickly Mott’s ears popped. Mott wasn’t the only one who felt it. Everyone—Mott’s mom, Thrudi, the gods—winced.
Black sludge fell from the sky and plopped to Earth, rain mixed with soot, and lightning flashed behind the smoke clouds.
Fenris stretched his jaws wide. He was a wolf-shaped creature. He was the offspring of shape-changing giants. He was a puppy. And he was a monster, a mountain of deep black shadow, eyes burning like magma, jagged lightning playing in teeth the size of icebergs. When he moved, ashes avalanched down his body.
He released a howl, the sound of the earth screaming in pain. The moon hung in the sky, defenseless as a wounded animal with nowhere to hide stalked by a predator.
Fenris the pup curled up against Mott’s leg, whimpering.
Fenris the giant raked his teeth on the moon’s surface.
He was both things at once, a creature that defied the reality of earthly rules.
Bone-cracking thunder drove Mott to her knees, but she forced herself to look at the sky. Glittering crumbs surrounded the moon like a halo. As seconds ticked, they grew brighter and bigger.
A horrified hush took the crowd. There were only a few voices. Some tried to reach loved ones over the phone. Some prayed. Some cried. But mostly Mott heard the strained silence of held breath.
Flaming streaks drew scars in the sky as moon fragments plummeted to Earth.
Mott felt as though she was standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff. And not just her alone, but everyone who played a part in this drama, everyone watching, everyone in the mall, and everyone in the world.
Mott didn’t know what her role was, but she had to do something. She didn’t have a sword. But she did have a weapon. She reached into her pocket.
“Thrudi,” she said softly, to get the Valkyrie’s attention.
Thrudi saw what Mott held in her hand.
“You have mistletoe?”
“Loki gave it to me. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
Thrudi shook her head, dismissing Mott’s apology. “You have a knife and the god-killing plant. You can use it to—”
“I know. I can cut Fenris open and remove the rune. Or let him eat the moon and sun and kill the worlds.”
“Oh, my shield-sister,” said Thrudi. “I am so sorry you’ve been burdened with this poisonous choice. You know that I’ll stand with you no matter what you decide. But you must choose.”
Mott wanted to hug Thrudi and squeeze her tight. Ragnarok was no longer something that might happen. Not even something that would happen. It was happening right now.
Tew shook his mocha and enjoyed another slurp. “I don’t know how many times you need to be told the way the prophecy works, girl. Try anything you like, and you will fail. Ragnarok will happen, because it must. Fenris will eat the moon, because he must. Vidar will kill Fenris, because he must. And the nine worlds will end. Because . . . I think you get it by now. You’re just drawing things out.”
Mott pressed the mistletoe into Thrudi’s hand. “Take it,” she said. “Hold them off as long as you can.”
Thrudi entwined the strands of mistletoe around her blade. “And what are you going to do?”
Mott looked into her mom’s dismayed and frightened eyes. “I’m going to save Fenris. And I’m going to save my mom. And I’m going to save my world, and all the others.” Tears rose to her eyes. She gritted her teeth. “I promise.”
Thrudi put her hand on Mott’s shoulder. With a proud smile and tears of her own, she said, “I do not know how you’re going to achieve the impossible, friend Mott. But I pledge my life to helping you try.”
She raised her sword.
Tew snorted. “The prophecy says nothing about a Valkyrie besting any gods in combat. It says nothing about you at all, corpse-picker.”
Thrudi smiled at the war god. “Good. That means you have no idea what I’ll do before the end.”
Vidar closed his eyes. “You will die along with all else.”
“Maybe. But first I can make you bleed.”
The longer Mott hesitated, the less likely she would have the courage to act.
She focused all her attention on Fenris. She ignored the shuddering Earth, the impact of moon crumbs, the smoke and flames, the impending battle between her friend and the mighty gods. She ignored her mother’s pleas to just run away and leave her and everything else behind.
Only Fenris and Mott.
She took off her belt.
Made a loop at the end to form a leash.
Gripped it tight.
She bent down and started putting the loop around Fenris’s head.
Just as she hoped, Fenris ate her.
15
MOTT HAD FALLEN BEFORE.
Every kid falls when they’re taking their first steps. They fall when they’re learning to ride a bike.
On Christmas when she was four, she’d gotten tired of listening to her parents argue instead of putting the star on top of the tree, so when nobody was watching, she climbed the ladder rung by rung with her short legs, all the way to the last one. When she saw how high she was, she panicked and lost her balance and tumbled from a height greater than she was tall. She’d suffered a knocked-out tooth and a sore elbow. The tooth would have fallen out in a couple of years anyway, her dad told her.
But that wasn’t a real fall. Not like this.
Wind tore at her face, blinding her with tears, stripping off atoms the way Fenris stripped crumbs from the moon’s surface. Her own screams sounded like an ambulance siren, and after a while, she was sure she was dead, and that death meant falling forever.
Maybe she’d lose consciousness at some point. She desperately hoped so.
But eventually, she stopped falling.
She didn’t land, just stopped, feet on the ground, in total darkness.
She remembered the sign on the animal shelter’s wall: Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.
“Fenris?” she called.
Nothing.
“Hello?”
Still nothing. Not even an echo. She could barely hear herself. The nothingness swallowed her voice.
She put a hand in front of her face, hoping her eyes would adjust, but moments later, she still couldn’t see anything. Nothingness wasn’t a physical object—it was the absence of something—but she could feel it tugging at her, pulling her in every direction at once, slowly but steadily tearing her apart.
“Fenris, can you hear me?” she cried, desperate. She had never felt this alone. She’d never felt this far from her mother. From a friend, like Amanda, or from Thrudi’s presence, strong and steady as iron. And her father felt as far away as ever.
The nothingness was swallowing her, and with it, her courage and her hope.
She took a tentative step but couldn’t bring herself to take another. She could be on the edge of a cliff, or inches away from a curtain of webs crawling with spiders.
Maybe inside Fenris was her own personal Helheim, and here she would spend the rest of her life, the rest of the universe’s life, shuffling in the dark.
“No,” said Mott. It didn’t matter that no one could hear her. It didn’t matter that she was in Helheim. She would fight against the night until she won or until she couldn’t fight anymore.
She recalled Odin’s words: Your kindness and courage have given me hope. . . . Perhaps my eye can give you some light in return.
A light flickered in the corner of her eye. Her pocket was glowing, the one that contained Odin’s eye. She reached for it, removed it from her pocket, held it high.
In the white glow, she could make out piles of rubble: jumbles of shattered concrete slabs with twisted steel bars growing out of them like weeds; splintered wood; some recognizable objects, like office furniture, charred refrigerators; wrecked cars, dented and burned, surrounded by broken glass. It went on for miles.
Inside Fenris was a world destroyed.
“Fenris?” she called again.
“Over here!”
In the distance, sitting atop a mound of debris, a man waved his arms.
“Climb up here with me,” he said. “There’s a monster around.”
He was handsome and bearded and dressed in fur and armor, and Mott would have recognized him even if she’d never seen him in person before. It was Chris Hevans, the movie star.
“I’m strong and I can protect you.” He flexed his arm and forced a grin. There was trauma in his bloodshot eyes. “That’s a superhero bicep right there. It took a lot of work. Personal trainer, special diet . . .”
Mott had to admit that his biceps were magnificent.
She picked her way over. “Have you seen the wolf?”
“The one who ate me? We’re inside of him, right? He’s all around us?”
“Yeah.”
“Nah, haven’t seen him.”
“Then what monster are you talking about?”
“There!” cried Chris Hevans. “It’s right there!”
Something skittered at Mott’s feet, and her heart thumped so hard she could taste it, but then she recognized the “monster.” It looked like a spider made of rawhide.
“Oh, that,” she said. “It’s just a dead man’s hand. It’s harmless.”
Chris Hevans wibbled. He flexed his other arm, as if his muscles gave him comfort.
“I can’t stay here,” Mott told him. “I’m looking for the Rune of Annihilation. I figure if I can destroy it, Fenris will stop trying to eat the moon and destroy the worlds. You want to help me look?”
Chris Hevans watched the hand scuttle back into the rubble. He wore the face of someone who’d just accidentally swallowed a bug. Gingerly, he climbed down the hill of wreckage.
“Good luck finding anything in all this mess. How big is the rune?” said a familiar voice.
Mott aimed Odin’s light in its direction. Another man, also in furs and leather, idly spun the creaking wheel of an upturned bicycle. Mott recognized him, too: Gorm the Vicious, Tew’s minion.
“You’re the one who nabbed Fenris after he ran away from the animal shelter,” she said. “I looked away and, poof, you were gone.”
“It wasn’t a ‘poof.’ It was more of a ‘munch, munch, swallow.’”
“Serves you right,” Mott said. “You couldn’t pay me a billion dollars to work for Tew.”
“I didn’t do it for money,” Gorm said, his feelings hurt. “Tew pays in meat.” He turned to Chris Hevans. “I’m Gorm.”
Chis Hevans smiled with perfect teeth. “I’m Chris Hevans,” said Chris Hevans. “I love your costume. Is that real fur?”
“No, it’s—”
“Artificial?”
“—made from a troll’s eyebrow.”
“Oh,” said Chris Hevans.
Mott resumed walking. “I’m going to keep looking for the rune.”
“It’s that way.” Gorm pointed ahead toward a glimmer emerging from below the horizon, like a red sun that was neither rising nor setting.
“Then that’s where I’m headed.” Mott set off, trudging over the littered ground.
“Can I come with you?” Chris Hevans asked. “I don’t want to be alone with that dead man’s hand crawling around.”
“If you want.” Mott really didn’t mind the company. She just wished Thrudi were here with her, because for all the awful, weird, scary things Mott had faced in the last couple of days, Thrudi had stood by her side. And being within the wrecked world inside Fenris was the awfullest, weirdest, scariest thing she’d done yet. But Thrudi was outside, fighting off gods to give Mott time to find the rune. She hoped she’d get to see her again.
Gorm raised his hand. “Um? Can I come, too? I think if I had company, I might not want to scream and sob.”
“Yes, you, too,” Mott said. “Just . . . don’t get in my way and don’t do anything mean or bad.”
