Empty Altars Page 4

  "Three sacrifices." Diana sniffed the air. “The scent of blood mingles with foul water.”

  "Where's your mother?" Einarr ran a hand through his hair, too distraught to think.

  "Mom's out here?"

  "She went to pick herbs and dig roots."

  "The bog!" the boy said.

  Father and son raced through the trees. Diana and Inga followed. Tension tightened Diana's stomach with each stride. Fear pulsed through her veins. A magic haze hung heavier in the air the farther they went. The scent of blood clung in her nostrils.

  "When we're near the bog, we change places," she hissed. "Mortals behind me. I don't want you caught in the crossfire." She knew the power of a blood sacrifice. Heid would be blazing with energy now. The putrid odor of black magic gagged her. It was so strong, she didn't smell the bog until they burst into the clearing.

  Stupid! Einarr and Bjorn should have stopped, should have let her go first. She threw up her hands to do battle. No witches stood in a circle. They'd come and gone.

  "Aesa!" The farmer ran to his wife, who knelt beside a bloodied body. He scooped her into his arms, burying his face in her neck, and sobbed.

  Aesa pushed herself out of his embrace, her face pale. "These poor women… I only watched. I couldn't help them."

  Diana went to study the corpses. Three teenaged girls, dressed in blue jeans and snug t-shirts, sprawled on the mucky ground, piled one on top of the other. Long, brown hair fanned out around the top girl's face. Gray eyes, rimmed with eyeliner, stared in horror, her mouth open to scream. A cell phone buzzed in her clenched hand. Dozens of knife wounds punctured her bloodied midsection. Crimson fluid oozed into the muck. It had drained from the three bodies and slithered into the foul water of the bog.

  Einarr followed his wife's gaze. Voice hoarse, he asked, "Who are they?"

  "Girls from modern times," Diana said. "Heid plucked them from their own world to bring them here."

  The wife's jaw set in a firm line. "The gods proclaimed that we cannot cross our times with others'. This is our fight, not theirs."

  "Heid's not following the rules." The voice surprised them all. It came from the far side of the bog. Diana looked up to see Freya crossing toward them. "When my necklaces protected you, she had to look elsewhere for a sacrifice."

  Inga froze in place, too overwhelmed to move.

  "Sorry. I forgot myself." Freya shrank to mortal size.

  "Your talismans protected these people from a coven of witches?" Diana asked.

  Freya shook her head. "No, they're not strong enough, but if Heid killed one of them, I'd know immediately. And I'd come."

  "So Heid brought these girls here, to the bog, hoping no one would know."

  "Or find them." Freya glanced at their surroundings. "It's not a place where people come often." Freya took a chain from around her neck and held it out for Inga. "Here. I can get another one. Wear this until you can protect yourself."

  "Protect myself?" Inga's hand trembled as she took the talisman.

  "Get used to goddesses, dear. You have a purpose in life. Diana and I will train you. You're to learn powerful magic, perhaps even a match for Heid’s."

  Diana planted her feet in an angry stance. She raised an eyebrow, not sure of this new turn of events. "You and I? I don't think so. I work alone."

  "I know, Roman, but we can't win this battle doing things the old way. For better or worse, your world and mine must unite."

  Diana pressed her lips together and counted to ten. She needed to think. Everything about this venture expanded with time. It kept spinning further and further out of control. She shut her eyes and when she opened them, Freya was smiling at her.

  "I didn't think you'd stay if I mentioned that right away, and you didn't let on you were staying at all."

  "Pairing up is temporary, right?" Diana snapped.

  "We can hope. I find you intriguing, but I don't think the Norse fascinate you quite as much." Freya motioned to Inga. "Put on the necklace, girl. You'll probably need it."

  Inga gratefully draped the cat pendant around her throat. Her fingers fumbled as she slid it under the neckline of her coarse dress.

  The farm wife reached for her husband's hand. She curled her other palm on her son's shoulder. "Without our pendants, Heid would have done this to us, wouldn't she?"

  "If you'd have stumbled on their ritual by accident, she would have anyway," Diana said.

  Einarr's arm snaked around his wife's waist and pulled her close. The son didn't tear his eyes off the girls' bodies. He pointed to the round, metal hoops that lined the one's left eyebrow and pierced her nose. "Look how she’s decorated. She must have been a priestess. Maybe all three were. Should we build a pyre to burn them?"

  "No." Diana didn't correct him. She gripped the girl's arm. She was a pretty, young thing on the brink of adulthood. Shame on Heid for taking her, for taking all three of them. Bile rose in her throat, and she forced it down. This was a cheap shot, a cowardly trick. "I'm taking the girls back. Their families should find them. Waiting and wondering is a horrible thing. If I can spare them that, I will." In a blink, she was gone, transporting the girls with her. She followed the trail of magic Heid had left behind and found herself in the parking lot of a shopping mall. The door of a car stood open. Heid must have snatched the girls before they could get inside. Diana placed their bodies on the car's front seat, then thought herself back to the bog.

  On her reappearance, Freya gave her an odd look. "What do three girls' deaths matter to you? They're mortals, ones who don't even know of your existence."

  "No one thinks about the old gods anymore. Why should they?"

  "You told me yourself that you're not sentimental, that you don't involve yourself in the affairs of mortals."

  "Heid misused witchcraft to kill that child and her friends. Magic is my responsibility."

  Freya raised an eyebrow, questioning her. "But what if some poor innocent is accused of the murder? What then? You've helped one mortal and made life harder for another."

  "We're gods! I mean, really! I cast an obfuscate spell." These Vikings had lived in their own little world too long. "No one will ever learn what really happened or be accused of their murders."

  "You can do that?"

  "Can't you?"

  "No, I can't cast spells. Even so, you surprise me. Regardless of what you say, you care more for mortals than you let on."

  Diana balled her fingers into fists. She didn't have to defend herself to anyone, let alone a Viking. "I thought a Norse would celebrate their deaths, put them down to destiny. You seem to relish fighting and martyrdom."

  "Give us some credit, Roman."

  Inga breathed a loud sigh and stepped between the two goddesses. "Why are you picking on Diana? Why can't you be nice to her?"

  "Nice? I'm always nice! I'm the goddess of love and beauty…" Freya's words trailed off. "Are you beginning to like this Roman?"

  Inga raised her chin, mimicking Diana's habit. "She doesn't have to stay here. She's chosen to, and Gudrun put me in her care."

  Freya gazed at her thoughtfully. "You see, Roman? You've already corrupted one of our own."

  For whatever reason, it pleased Diana that Inga had championed her, and it pleased her more that Freya was all right with that. "It's possible it's the other way around, that you've corrupted me. I'm still here, aren't I?"

  "We're a practical race. We do what we have to. I believe we're meant to learn from one another." She looked at the small family who'd been listening to them with interest. "For now, though, we'd better get these people to their farm. Bjorn, show us the way to the meadow."

  The young boy led them back to the clearing where he'd left the cows. As they herded them toward the longhouse, Diana noticed that each cow was branded with the sign of a cat. "For protection?" she asked Freya.

  "Livestock means survival. We've done our best to take no chances."

  "Then this is no new battle. You've been struggling with Heid for a while
now."

  "It's been centuries since we've dealt with her, but recently, she returned, stronger and more determined. Her tactics keep escalating. Why else do you think Tyr and Donar would join Heimdall to guard Bifrost? We've been worrying, watching."

  When they crossed the wooden bridge that led to the farm, the wife hesitated and turned to them. "We thank you for saving our lives. But are you safe? What of you and yours?"

  To Diana, it seemed an odd question. Romans didn't ponder their gods' immortality. They accepted it. But Freya sighed. "We have nothing to fear from mortals. Nor from Heid, hopefully—she's a lesser goddess. But I'm not sure who we're up against." Freya's blue eyes scanned the hillside, turning toward the rainbow bridge. "The giants have been our constant enemies."

  The wife nodded, not surprised by Freya's answer. That puzzled Diana. Didn't mortals want their gods to be invincible? Why would they worship them if they might fail?

  Diana thought about that on their journey back to the hut. She knew, firsthand, that gods could be defeated, not that modern mortals would embrace that concept. But hadn't Jupiter stolen his power from his father, Saturn? Wasn't Prometheus chained to a rock until Hercules rescued him? As far as she knew, though, they couldn't be killed. The Titans remained, still chained, deep in Tartarus. But these Norse gods and goddesses believed that eventually, they'd perish. Was that possible? How would that affect her if she joined them?

  Diana was well equipped to deal with Heid and witches, but giants? If she helped the Norse battle and lost, what then? Would she be tossed into some pit with Tyr, Donar, and Freya? Or worse, could she actually be destroyed in their idea of a fiery Ragnarok? Surely, some of her fellow gods and goddesses could be of more help. Athena, goddess of war and strategy, came to mind. Or maybe Mars—if he could get along with Tyr and Donar. Her brother, Apollo, would gladly come to her aid, but his disposition wasn't nearly as bloodthirsty as her own.

  Freya seemed to sense her indecision. "We've defeated the giants many times. The Aesir and Vanir can deal with brute force."

  "Good." Things were looking up. "I can deal with magic."

  "We haven't been fair to you, Roman. You thought you were only sent to help. You didn't realize you'd be asked to risk your life for us. We ask a lot. Is it too much?"

  As a matter of fact, it was, but what choice did she really have? Fight now, or fight later. The seer seemed to think that together, she and the Norse might win. "This isn't just your battle, or the runes wouldn't have sent me. It's my battle too, and Romans are no cowards." Diana stopped so abruptly, Inga bumped into her. Hands on hips, she turned to Freya. "But I'm sick of being called Roman. My name's Diana. Quit being so damned condescending. As Greeks and Romans, we conquered every bit as much of the world as you did, maybe more."

  Freya's laugh rang through the wood. "We can learn to be friends, Ro…" She caught herself. "…Diana."

  "I can summon more help," Diana offered. "Athena would come. Mars is a bother, but he is god of war."

  "We're struggling enough dealing with one Roman." When Diana's eyes blazed, Freya quickly added, "No offense meant. But, if more were needed, your runes would have told you. You were sent to us, only you."

  A sensible argument. Diana could find no fault with it. "Then it must be because of my magic."

  "My thoughts exactly." Freya raised her arm in a salute. "To magic!" she cried.

  "I'll send for my cat." If Diana was going to stay, she needed her familiar. Freya wasn't the only goddess who associated felines with magic. Diana had been whisked away too fast to bring Noir, and she'd hesitated to bring him when she thought her stay here would be short. She knew he wouldn't like the Norse lands. They were too rugged, too cold, but he'd have to deal with it. She needed him.

  "You have cats too?" Freya asked.

  "A cat. I think you started it. Egyptians worshipped them, but you made them part of magic. Why you couldn't have picked a more agreeable animal is beyond me."

  Inga shook her head, bemused. She'd been walking behind them, listening in on their conversation. Now, she looked from one of them to the other.

  "Spit it out, girl" Freya said. "You can't be shy. What worries you?"

  "How are you two going to stay together? The hut's only one room. You bicker more than Griswold and Gudrun."

  "We'll be fine," Diana assured her. "It will work."

  "There's only one wooden bench to sleep on."

  "Not anymore."

  Inga stared. "We haven't been gone that long."

  "Greeks like their luxuries. What can I say?"

  "Did you send for things from your world?" Freya's voice bubbled with enthusiasm.

  "No, Mount Olympus."

  Freya clapped her hands together in excitement. "We're going to learn a lot from you, aren't we?"

  Diana's tone turned teasing. "Probably not. Norse are stubborn, but let's enjoy ourselves while we can. Warfare is serious. It doesn't have to be uncomfortable."

  Freya laughed. "I can hardly wait to see what you've done." She hurried her steps, and Diana decided that goddesses of love and beauty could all be swayed by luxuries and indulgence. She, however, was goddess of the hunt. Amenities had their place, and she enjoyed them, but life was a harsh mistress. The strongest and the best could fall.

  Chapter 5

  When they stepped into the small glade, Inga gasped. The hut had been razed to the ground. White columns stretched from both ends of a marble temple, forming two outdoor porticoes. Not practical in the north, but pleasing to Diana's eyes.

  "A temple?" Freya asked.

  "I like the design and the thick, heavy walls. And marble floors."

  "With porches?"

  "I’ll be gone before winter." Diana had no intentions of lingering in the Norse lands any longer than she had to.

  She hurried into her new home. Two rooms greeted her. The first held a round fireplace in its center, a wooden table and chairs, and a small sitting area. The second contained three beds with stuffed, feather mattresses. No gilt ceilings or murals. Nothing extravagant. Simple elegance and comfort. Diana's style.

  Fruit spilled over the edge of a large, wooden bowl on the table—apples, figs, pomegranates, and grapes jostled alongside thick circles of cheese. Loaves of bread beckoned from a cupboard shelf, joined by a myriad of amphorae—the airtight, ceramic vessels Diana preferred to store wine.

  Inga blinked, dazed. "Who did this? How?"

  "I am a goddess." Diana waved a hand. "I have my ways."

  Freya turned to study the surroundings too. "Lovely. Someday, I'll have to invite you to my hall in Folkvang. I think you'll like it."

  With a nod, Diana reached for a clump of grapes. "I'm thinking that since Gudrun sent Inga to this place, it's protected. Am I correct?"

  Freya took a handful of figs and bit the end off one of them. "Mmm, good." She motioned toward silver, cat talismans nailed to trees around the clearing. "When Inga was shunned, her tattoo protected her from mortals. Olaf combined his magic with mine to smith the cats. No enemy can pass them.”

  “Hungry animals?” Diana asked.

  “Anything that would harm her. But our magic together isn't as powerful as yours."

  "Olaf?"

  Inga answered. "A dwarf who lives in our village. He has the magic of his kind."

  "Enough to ward off Heid?"

  "Until now, yes. But since Heid has a coven? I don't know," Freya admitted.

  "I've seen Heid's coven. Not goddesses. What are they? Half-goddesses maybe?" Diana knew all about the indiscretions of the gods. Greeks were known for them. Jupiter, alone, had produced more than enough progeny, causing his mortal partners worlds of grief when Juno grew jealous. She assumed Norse gods were no different.

  Freya nodded, acknowledging her suspicions. "I doubt Heid's working with mere mortals, and no goddesses would join her."

  Inga looked relieved. "Then it can't be that bad. Half-gods have only half your powers and gifts, right?"

  Diana and Freya exchan
ged glances. "I'm thinking of Hercules," Diana said. "We couldn't have defeated the Titans without his help. Half-gods can be dangerous enemies."

  Freya added, "Our gods occasionally reproduce with giants."

  "With your enemies?" Diana couldn't hide her surprise. “No god would mate with a Titan.”

  "Some giants have saved or birthed us."

  "So it's complicated." Diana unsealed an amphorae and poured herself wine. "Care for some?"

  Inga sniffed the red liquid and shook her head. Freya took a small sip and pushed the goblet away. "I prefer mead."

  "Sorry. Don't have any."

  Freya smiled. "But you will." She turned when she heard a horse approaching. "Here it is now."

  The three women walked to the door. A god galloped into the clearing, riding a horse with eight legs. Diana gaped. She knew it was ill-mannered, but she'd never seen such a creature.

  "Woden's horse," Freya explained. "He sent Hermod with supplies for me."

  Hermod moved with such speed, he reminded Diana of her friend, Mercury. It took no time for him to store Freya's goods in their marble home and wish them farewell. "You do us a great service, staying here—all of you!" Hermod called as he rode away.

  Inga looked from Freya's drinking horns and jars of mead to Diana's wines and cheeses. Eyes wide, she said, "I've never seen so much food and drink."

  "What have you lived on all these years?" Diana asked. Inga didn't look like a hunter. How had she survived?

  "Nuts, fruits and berries, and lots of bread. I have eggs from the chickens, milk and cheese from the goats." She blushed. "Gudrun makes Griswold supply me with dried meat twice a year, because she says I'm important."

  "You are important." Freya tossed an arm over her shoulder. "We're a team. What's ours is yours."

  "But I'm a mortal. I'm shunned."

  "Get over it," Diana said. "From this moment forward, you're our apprentice. You'll protect your village with white magic." No worry that Inga might turn to the dark arts. The girl couldn't wring a chicken's neck to have meat.

  Inga spread her hands helplessly. "You keep saying that, but I have no gifts, no talents."