Empty Altars Page 6

Diana stooped to pet his sleek, black fur. "So do I. Our temperaments match."

  "I can see that."

  Diana's head snapped up, her hazel eyes blazing, but when she saw the amusement on Tyr's face, she knew she was being teased. She grimaced. "I should send him home. He'd be safer."

  "You should both leave." Tyr leaned forward to make his point. He was so tall, he almost touched her.

  "Why are you Vikings always trying to get rid of me?"

  He took her hand in his. "It's one thing to risk your life for us. It's another to endure giants. It's asking too much. Go home."

  "Are you giving up?" Diana wiggled her hand free. "Are you going to Asgaard to hide so that you're not chained to your tree and tortured? Are you going to cower and let the giants do as they please with mortals?"

  "We're their gods. It's our job to protect them."

  "You're not their gods. The only humans who even remember you live in this meadow. Strike a deal. Give Heid and the giants whatever modern lands they want. Keep you and your meadow safe."

  He stared at her. "Would you do that?"

  "Hell no."

  He grinned. "Didn't think so. Neither will we."

  "Then let's quit quarreling and decide how to win this." Diana glared at her wrists and ankles. "I don't much care for chains. I like running through the woods or Central Park."

  "Central Park?" He frowned.

  "You wouldn’t like it. They have public bathrooms and electricity."

  "Someday I'll have to visit there."

  "It's too soft for you. Didn't I hear that you Vikings grab your weapons and fight all day in Valhalla? Then you eat and drink and screw any beautiful women who happen to be hanging around."

  He shook his head. "You make us sound like barbarians, but we're preparing for the final battle."

  "What for? You already know you'll lose."

  "We don't give in without a fight. It's not our nature." He leaned closer, face to face. She could smell his strength, his masculinity. "But what about you?" he demanded. "This isn't your fight. Why are you staying?"

  "I don't have anything better to do, and it will annoy Noir. He took his time getting here. He deserves it."

  Tyr's laughter echoed off the trees. "You're as stubborn as we are, Roman. Admit it."

  "No one's more stubborn than a Norseman."

  He shook his head and took another gulp of beer. Then he grew still, deadly serious. "I admire your courage, but I can't let you do this. I'm asking you to leave."

  "If I leave, you fail. Gudrun said so."

  "We might fail anyway."

  She pushed herself to her feet, angrier than she expected, jamming her hands on her hips. "You just don't get it, do you? This isn't some battle between you and your old enemies. If they defeat you, they'll grow stronger, and they'll go on a rampage. Do you really think that any gods would have a chance of stopping them then? If you fall, we all fall—mortals and gods and goddesses together. The runes didn't say the giants would capture me here. They said they'd capture me if you lose this battle. I'll become their prisoner in this world or my own if you don't stop them." She jabbed a finger at him, eyes blazing. "Is that what you want?"

  "No." He put his head in his hands, unhappy with both of his choices. He looked so wretched, Diana's fingers itched, tempted to reach out to comfort him, but that was too intimate. What would his mate think? What would he think? She plopped down on her bench again, pushing her hands under her legs to pin them in place.

  Everyone waited. Finally, he looked up, his massive shoulders stooped in resignation. "So, tell me what you saw. Jorunda and I need to know what we're up against."

  Diana nodded to Freya. A knot tightened her throat. She couldn't talk. She let the goddess explain the runes' messages. She sat back and sipped wine, letting her mind wander. What was wrong with her? Why did she care what this god thought? Why did she care if he suffered? She needed to concentrate on big issues. They needed to win. She had no intentions of becoming a prisoner of war, especially to some ugly ass giants. When Freya finished telling Tyr and Jorunda what the runes showed them, Diana focused on the conversation once more.

  "What do you make of these prophesies?" Tyr asked her.

  "We can win. We have to protect the village at all costs, and we have less than a month to defeat Heid." Diana looked across the clearing to the forest that separated their marble home from Griswold's holdings. "Heid will have thrown her runes too. It only makes sense that she would, but she strikes me as sloppy. She'll know the major events—that if the village falls, she wins, and that if she can stall for any length of time, we're doomed. So she'll focus on the same things we will, but I’m hoping she didn’t look at the outer runes and know about the gift we'll receive or the three riders on horses. They might seem insignificant, but the runes say they’ll make a difference."

  "Our main job now is to protect the village," Tyr said. "We need Donar to protect the bridge. He's fought and killed many giants, and Heimdall will sound the horn if enemies approach, but I'll stay with Jorunda. If something happens, we should be able to hold off enemies until we get help."

  Jorunda looked surprised. "You'd live among mortals?"

  "Do you have a better idea?"

  Jorunda lowered his gaze, embarrassed. "I meant no disrespect."

  "Warrior, if your chieftain showed half the bravery and integrity you do, I'd do cartwheels across the meadow."

  Diana's goblet of wine stopped midway to her lips. "I'd like to see that."

  "It will never happen. Griswold's an idiot," Tyr said.

  Inga and Jorunda's jaws dropped in unison. Tyr and Diana looked at each other and laughed. Freya's expression turned thoughtful.

  "What?" Diana asked, misreading her concern.

  A tiny smile played on the goddess' lips. "It's nice to have some joy after the runes. I've never seen bones like yours or such readings."

  "True," Tyr said, thoughtful again. "Maybe Heid can't see as much as you do. Your magic is more powerful."

  Diana hoped so, but she knew the witch had seen enough. They'd better prepare.

  Chapter 8

  "Where do we start?" Tyr's mood shifted to practical matters.

  Diana turned to Freya. "How protected is this clearing and Griswold's village?"

  "Anything you add will help. Olaf and I tried, but seidr magic only deals with shape shifting and astral projection."

  Diana stared. "And you didn't think those were worth mentioning?"

  "They haven't proved that useful against Heid, and they take a long time to teach." A seductive smile curved Freya's lips. "I tutored Woden in them, though. An excellent student."

  Diana caught the innuendo. "You slept with the king of your gods?" she asked, amazed.

  "For a time. We learned from each other. Your magic is more practical, though, more deadly." Freya yawned. She raised her arms above her head in a slow stretch—a sensual, lanquid movement like Noir's, completely natural. "I've had too much excitement lately. It's wearing me out. No more mead for me."

  "Did you make anything besides the cat pendants?" Diana asked. "Anything to ward off Heid or the giants?"

  "The talismans strained the extent of my resources. All Olaf and I could manage were the necklaces for farm families outside the village and silver cat pieces to nail onto trees around this clearing and on each corner of Griswold's log fence."

  Diana had heard stories of dwarves' smithing skills. Olaf's talents must be respectable, but she wasn't sure how his magic worked. "Olaf's cat medallions have protected Inga for five years, right?"

  "No animal will enter this clearing to harm her. Neither will an enemy, including Heid."

  Effective enough, up until now. Diana frowned. "How did a dwarf come to live with mortals? I thought they had their own land."

  "Olaf had to leave Nidavellir, his home, when another dwarf's wife became too enamored with him," Jorunda said. "He fled here. I consider him a close friend. He's been good for our village."

 
By his tone, Diana realized that Jorunda held Olaf in high esteem. He obviously respected the dwarf more than he did his chieftain. When Jorunda spoke of Griswold, it was with a sense of duty.

  Diana looked at Freya. "What exactly do the talismans do?"

  "They keep enemies at bay and reflect Heid's energy."

  "Have you tested them?" Diana wondered who volunteered for that job. She wouldn't want it. What if the wards weren't powerful enough?

  "A farmer's daughter annoyed Heid, refused to hand over the eggs and milk she'd collected one morning, and Heid tried to zap her to take them. Her energy bounced off the girl, and when her brothers—wearing their necklaces—came to her aid, Heid stomped away in a snit."

  "If Heid and her coven combined their powers?"

  Freya shrugged. "It hasn't happened, but I doubt the pendants are strong enough to withstand that much energy."

  Diana turned her attention to Tyr.

  "I have little knowledge of these things," he admitted. "I use my sword to protect mortals."

  "Is there more we can do?" Freya asked.

  "We should arm each warrior with a necklace," Diana said. "If they square off against a witch, it will protect them. And the three of us will chant spells. Mine can't be broken."

  "How strong are you?" Tyr was eager for definite answers too. "Will mortals be safe from Heid’s attacks?"

  "Nothing's that foolproof, but I can protect them from most black magic. Giants are another matter."

  Tyr patted the sword that hung from his belt. "Might, we can deal with."

  "Then let's get started." Diana turned to Inga. "You need to learn chants. The rowan will help. The trees are sacred. With my magic and theirs, your magic will awaken. And we need parchment to write down what you learn."

  "You're going to write chants down? What if someone captures them?" Tyr demanded.

  "I'll protect them. Only Inga and Freya can read them. If anyone else opens the pages, they'll go blank."

  "You can do that?"

  Diana sighed. "I am the mother of magic. You Norse are still cutting your teeth on beginning spells."

  "You're truly a rare individual." Tyr's expression filled with wonder.

  Her pulse quickened. She could feel a blush burn her cheeks. Drat the man! "Compliments will get you nowhere. We have work to do."

  "Threats don't faze you. Neither do sweet words of praise. You're a difficult woman, Diana."

  "Goddess—and don't forget it. Now go away. We women have things to do."

  Tyr rose to his full height—an impressive specimen of manhood. Diana gnawed at her bottom lip again. Much better than licking her lips and drooling, but he caught her expression and grinned. "Too bad you're a maiden goddess. I've been alone a long time."

  Her heart skipped a beat. "I thought every god and goddess in Asgaard had mated." The minute the words left her lips, she wanted to smack herself. How eager did that sound?

  "I mated once when I was young. It was a casual coupling." His voice darkened. "When I lost my hand, I lost much of my appeal to her."

  Dear Zeus! It only made him more desirable in her eyes, but she looked away. She was succumbing to foolishness. "We have a battle to win. Too much is at stake to fritter away time." She caught Freya's knowing expression and frowned. "Don't even think about it." She knew how much Venus enjoyed any type of romance. The Norse goddess of love and beauty would be no different.

  A mask of innocence settled over Freya's features. "My every thought is on war."

  A deep chuckle escaped Tyr as he turned to leave. "We'll see you in one week," he rumbled. "Gudrun will make sure of that."

  Diana watched him and Jorunda until they disappeared into the trees, then she did her best to push Tyr from her mind. How long had he been alone? What woman, in her right mind, would grow tired of him? She shook her head. What did it matter? She was here to do a job, and then she'd return home, to her own world, and the sky god would stay here in this primitive meadow.

  "We have work to do!" she snapped, ready for action. Diana covered the ceramic jar of wine and emptied her goblet. "Let’s get started. Find parchment to write on."

  Inga leapt to her feet and hurried into the house. Noir started after her. "Aren't you coming with us?" Diana called to him.

  The cat didn't even turn his head. He disappeared inside the doorway, swishing his tail, clearly peeved with her.

  "I could summon my pets for you," Freya offered.

  "Thanks, but I was hoping for my familiar." Diana glared in Noir's direction. "Filthy beast. Who needs him? He can stay here and lick himself."

  Freya snickered, then let the subject drop.

  Inga returned, parchment in hand. “I’ve seen a grove far away from the village. It’s more private there.”

  The three women set off through the spruce trees in the opposite direction of Griswold’s lands. Diana had one week before Tyr and Jorunda returned again, one week to train Inga in the basics of magic—seven days out of less than a month before they claimed victory or suffered defeat—and she was feeling pressured.

  Her mood improved once they were in the wood. She couldn’t wait until she was surrounded by rowan trees, inhaling the essence of a sacred grove. She hummed to herself as they made their way along the path. Then she caught sight of a plant with delicate, blue flowers and halted abruptly. She pointed. "Wolfbane!" How could they be so lucky?

  "You want to stop to pick flowers?" Freya asked, her tone full of doubt.

  "Hounds won't pass it."

  Inga grabbed a leaf from the plant and tucked it in her bodice.

  "Have you seen a hound?" Diana asked.

  "Only from a distance when you made Heid retreat."

  "She’ll send them to attack the village again. Pick as much wolfbane as you see. More will grow. We'll hang the dried plants on the village fence."

  Hope bubbled in Diana’s heart. With the right chants, she could protect the village from black magic, but even mortals could protect themselves from hellhounds with wolfbane. They went deeper into the woods, searching for the rowan Inga had seen, when they stumbled into a circle of pulverized trees. Not a trunk or a branch remained. Leaves, bark, and pulp were mashed into mush.

  "What happened?" Inga frowned at the ground—a soggy layer of green-stained sawdust. "A whirlwind?"

  "Not likely." Diana knelt to inhale the scent. One sniff, and she could feel the color drain from her face. Hot acid filled her stomach. Heat burned in her veins. "By all the gods…."

  "Diana?" Inga took a step back from her.

  The curse died on her lips. Dark energy swirled inside her, tinted with angry reds. It gathered around her, she knew, reflecting her mood.

  "What is it?" Freya scooped up some of the debris. The Norse goddess' hands balled into fists. "Rowans," she whispered.

  Diana scarcely heard her. “Sacred to Greeks. Untouchable. When Hebe, the goddess of youth, offers ambrosia to the gods from her magic chalice, the cup’s made from the wood of the rowan.” The trees' white blossoms stood for purity. The red berries that clung to them in the fall were marked, opposite their stems, with tiny five- pointed stars or pentagrams—protection against evil, against dark witchcraft.

  The soles of Diana's feet burned. Energy flowed from the earth into her body. Winds circled her like a tornado.

  "Diana! Stop it!" Freya's voice shook, brittle with rage. It yanked Diana back to her companions, but Freya's fury wasn't directed at her. "Woden and his brothers created the first Norse man from a rowan, the woman from an elm."

  Even Inga looked upset. "In the Underworld, it was a rowan that bent to save Donar from being washed away by the stream's swift current."

  "It's the wood we carve to make our runes." Freya's golden beauty chilled to a wintry pale. Unusual for a goddess of fertility, Diana decided. It made her think of Ceres, the Greek goddess of the corn harvest, who withdrew in the wintry months to mourn for her lost daughter. And Freya's coldness made sense to Diana. Freya was goddess of love and beauty,
but she was also goddess of slain warriors.

  They all stared at the ruined grove, each of them offended. It had been trampled. Black magic couldn't harm it. Goddess trees did not fall to spells or chants. A path of snapped-off trees led from the grove to the cliffs that surrounded the hillsides.

  "Giants," Freya seethed.

  "Heathen!" Diana hissed. She walked from one pile of rubble to the next, digging for flattened clumps of leaves beneath the sawdust. There weren't many that survived, but there were a few. "See these? Gather as many as you can." She looked skyward and mumbled words. A flock of ravens flew to her. "My brother's birds," she told Freya. "Look for a flying rowan," she commanded them. "If you find one, bring me twigs."

  "Trees can fly?" Inga gulped.

  Diana shook her head. "They grow on the side of a rocky cliff or in the cleft of another tree, something that seems visually impossible."

  The birds took to the air and didn't return until a pile of leaves filled Diana's basket. Each bird held a living twig in its beak. Freya opened her arms to receive them. "I thank you," Diana told them. "Wish my brother well." And they departed.

  Freya frowned. "What good will these do?"

  "Watch and learn, but we need to plant them before they wither. Which way to the village?"

  The women set off at a fast pace. Inga wore a worried expression, Freya a cold, aloof determination. Diana burned with indignation. "It's sacrilege for a giant to even touch a rowan."

  "Heid sent them. She was afraid you'd use the trees to make a potion." A twig touched Freya's bosom, and the leaves began to wither.

  "Be careful. You're freezing it." Freya's skin must be as chilly as her expression.

  Freya gently moved the twig away. As they neared the second grove of rowans, the one they passed on their way to the village, Freya gasped in dismay. Tears fell and turned to ice crystals on her cold cheeks, sparkling against her skin. Her mouth turned down in a grim line. She looked like an ice queen, regal and dangerous.

  Diana gripped her basket. The beautiful trees were smashed to rubble. Her energy built again, and she fought to control it.

  Inga touched her arm. "Are you all right?"