A Yank at Valhalla Read online

Chaining dark evil,

  Midgard snake, Fenris,

  And Loki, arch-devil.

  Why, I wondered, had I heard no mention of Loki? Everything else in the old Norse myths seemed to have some solid basis here, but I had heard nothing of the traitor Aesir. I decided to ask Odin about that at my first opportunity, as I tucked the gold cylinder inside my new shirt and laced up the mail brynja over it.

  Hardly had I done so when the grizzled thrall again appeared at the door of my chamber.

  "King Odin summons you to the feast, lord."

  I quickly put on the heavy, gleaming helmet. Feeling stiff as a ham actor in the strange costume, I followed the thrall down stone stairs to the great hall. The thrall shouted a loud announcement.

  "The Jarl Keith, from the outlands beyond Niffleheim!"

  The voices and laughter died down, and every eye turned toward me with eager curiosity. Valhalla blazed with light from torches set in the walls and the great fire blazing high in the central hearth. The scores of tables now bore metal and earthenware dishes loaded with food. Tall flagons and drinking horns were replenished by swift serving-maidens.

  At these tables sat the chief captains and warriors of the Aesir. Hundreds of big, fair-haired men, helmets laid aside, their mail glistening in the torchlight, were feasting and drinking. At the table raised upon the dais by the southern wall sat the nobles of the Aesir and their ladies. In his high, carved chair in the middle sat Odin. Beside him was a woman of matronly beauty, his queen, the lady Frigga.

  "Jarls and captains of the Aesir," Odin boomed. "Drink welcome to the Jarl Keith, our guest and friend from beyond Niffleheim."

  "Skoal to the Jarl Keith!" roared bearded Thor, winking jovially at me as he raised his huge drinking-horn.

  "Skoal!" pealed Freya's silver voice. Every voice in Valhalla hall repeated the greeting. Hundreds of drinking-horns were raised. Odin waved me toward a seat at his table of nobles, between Freya and the delicately lovely wife of Thor. As I took the chair, serving-maids brought me a great slab of beef on a platter, and a horn of mead. I tasted the drink curiously. It was thin, sweet and potent.

  Freya leaned toward me. She was dressed now like the other Aesir ladies, in a long white linen gown. Her bright hair was bound by a silver circlet, her dress belted by a heavy metal girdle studded with flashing emeralds.

  "Shall I name the others for you, Jarl Keith? You will meet them all soon."

  At my right, beyond giant Thor and his wife, sat three other sons of Odin — Vidar, Vali and Hermod, tall and fair-haired, stalwart men all. There was Heimdall, the warder of Asgard gate, whom I had already seen. Niord was a squat, jovial bald man of middle age, with his wife Skadi. Forseti was a sober young man, apparently much respected by the other Aesir.

  To my left, beyond Freya, sat Frey and his lovely wife, Gerda. Beyond them were Bragi, a gentle-looking man with dreaming eyes, his wife, the noble-featured Idun; Aegir, a gaunt, white-bearded old sea-king, and his aged wife, Ran. At the- table-end sat Tyr, a young man but most gloomy and silent of any in the hall. Drinking moodily, he watched the merry feasters with brooding eyes.

  "Tyr is always dark and silent," Freya explained, "but not in battle. He is a berserk."

  I remembered the legend of the berserks — men who went blood-mad in battle, and fought with unhuman frenzy, without mail.

  "How is it that some of you are old, if the radiation keeps you all from aging?" I asked.

  "They were old when the catastrophe first kindled the radiation below. Since then, none of them has grown older. The few children born here grow normally till they reach maturity, and then do not age further."

  "You've all lived here in Asgard for centuries on centuries," I muttered. "It seems repulsive."

  "Not all of us, Jarl Keith," said Freya. "I am not centuries old!"

  She smiled when I looked at her doubtfully.

  "Your name was known and worshiped in the outer world centuries ago, Freya."

  "My mother's mother was named Freya also," she explained. "She was sister to Frey, who sits beside you. She and her husband Odur were among the party of Aesir Odin mentioned, who perished in a mission beyond Niffleheim. But Freya left two daughters, Hnoss and Gersemi. Gersemi was my own mother. She perished from drowning twenty years ago, soon after I was born."

  "Then you're really only twenty years old?" I exclaimed. "I'm glad of that!"

  "Why should you be glad, Jarl Keith?" she asked quite innocently.

  I was spared a reply by an interruption to the feast. Tall Heimdall stood up and called:

  "A saga from the king of skalds, Bragi!"

  When the feasters took up the cry, Bragi rose. Smiling, he went to a great harp at the end of the hall. His fingers touched the strings, and rippling, shivering music welled out. He sang in a clear, strong voice.

  Give ear, all ye Aesir, Sons of the morning,

  Wise men and warriors,

  Men with great hearts!

  Ye who fared upward,

  From Muspelheim's fire-hell,

  Daring all terrors

  To seek a new land!

  Bragi sang on, describing the migration of the Aesir from their disaster-smitten underworld, their repulse of the Jotuns, the hunt and the battle of their ships along Midgard's coast, and the fury of the sea.

  "Skoal, Bragi!" roared the audience, and all raised their horns.

  I drank with the others. The potent mead made me a little dizzy. I nearly forgot I was Keith Masters. I was the Jarl Keith, sitting beside Freya in Valhalla, feasting and shouting.

  "Now for the games," Odin announced.

  A gleeful yell came from the warriors.

  "What games are these?" I asked.

  "Sword-play with blunted blades, and wrestling," Freya said. "As a guest, Jarl Keith, you'll take part in them, of course."

  I saw everyone looking expectantly at me. Somewhat sobered, I stood up.

  "I'm but a fair swordsman, lord Odin," I said, "yet I'll join in."

  "Who will try sword-play with the outland Jarl?" Odin asked.

  "Tyr, you are our best swordsman."

  "No, lord Odin, not I," the berserk Tyr answered broodingly. "You know that a sword in my hand brings the madness on me."

  "I'll face Jarl Keith," said Frey, standing up and smiling at me.

  We walked around to the open space in front of the tables. There we were given gauntlets, shields, and two long swords whose points had been cut off.

  "Who delivers three stout blows on his opponent's helmet wins the game," Odin stated.

  The game appeared dangerous to me, for our faces were quite unprotected. I hadn't much hope of besting Frey; but I was determined not to show any semblance of fear before Freya and these fierce warriors.

  Frey's blade clashed against mine. Next instant, I realized I could never meet his equal. Centuries of practice had made him unhumanly skillful. His blade flew like a streak of light and crashed on my helmet. As I staggered from the stunning blow, he hit my helmet again. A roar went up from the crowd. Resentment gripped me, and I lashed out savagely at Frey's head.

  By sheer luck, the unexpected stroke caught his mailed shoulder. When he stumbled, I smote down on his helmet.

  "Well done, Jarl Keith!" roared the bull voice of Thor.

  But Frey recovered before I did. His blade became a blur of steel in front of me. Grimly I tried to hold him off. But he soon got in his third blow.

  "Are you hurt, Jarl Keith?" asked Frey solicitously.

  "Only my pride," I said ruefully, as I put down the sword and shield.

  Thor strode around the table to me. His bearded red face and little eyes were twinkling with jovial expectation.

  "You look like a wrestler, Jarl from the outlands," he boomed. "Will you try a fall with me?"

  "Aye, a match between Thor and the outland Jarl!" the audience shouted.

  "Jarl Keith hasn't rested!" Freya cried indignantly to the Hammerer. "It's not fair!"

  "I'm ready," I said coolly
to Thor. I realized to the full that the chances of my overcoming the giant were infinitesimal. But I realized, too, that all this was a kind of hazing which these Vikings gave to any newcomer. Thor tossed aside his hammer. We faced each other, hands extended, seeking a grip.

  I was a fair wrestler, and I knew that my only chance was to overcome Thor by a quick trick that he might not know.

  As the giant grabbed for me, I slipped past him. Leaping to his back, I got a half-nelson on him before he could expect it.

  A mighty shout went up from the watchers as they saw the Hammerer claw furiously to pull me loose. Furiously I hung on.

  With one sturdy arm against the back of his heavily cabled neck, and my legs braced, I strained to force his huge head downward. For a moment I thought I had a chance to win the match. Then a bull-roar of rage came from Thor.

  He jerked his head upward with such tremendous force that my hold was torn loose.

  Like an enraged bear, the Hammerer whirled and caught me around the waist.

  This was wrestling in his style, all strength and little science. His huge arms crushed me, though I exerted all my strength to win free. I felt the lacings of my mail coat burst under the pressure as I strained frantically to break his hold. But he picked me up like a child and slammed me down upon the stone floor.

  "Well done," he roared as he let me go. "You almost conquered me with your outland tricks, Jarl Keith. You will have to teach them to me."

  "Some other time," I gasped, panting for breath as I stumbled to my feet. I turned toward the king. "If you are satisfied, lord Odin, I'll take part in no more games now."

  Odin smiled. "You have borne yourself well, Jarl Keith, and—"

  His voice ceased as his stern face seemed to freeze.

  When I saw that he was staring at my chest, I looked down. The bursting mail coat had let the rune key dangle in full view.

  "The rune key!" he whispered.

  Everyone in great Valhalla was speechless, staring in horror at the ancient gold cylinder that hung outside my coat.

  "The rune key!" Odin repeated hoarsely. "It has come back to Asgard. This is the day for which dark Loki has waited!"

  Chapter VI

  Ancient Science

  The frozen stillness in Valhalla was appalling. Aesir nobles and warriors all seemed turned to stone as they stared at the golden cylinder hanging from my neck. I could hear the torches guttering, the snap of logs on the blazing hearth, and the dull moan of the sea wind around Valhalla's lofty eaves. It was as though the feast of the Aesir had been smitten by chill terror.

  "Where did you get that key, Jarl Keith?" Odin asked me hoarsely.

  "Why, my comrades fished it out of the sea beyond the ice-pack — beyond Niffleheim," I answered bewilderedly.

  A deep groan went up from the entire gathering. I turned to them unhappily, feeling like a hunted animal that knows it has done no wrong, yet still is persecuted.

  "Why did you bring it into this land?" Odin demanded fiercely.

  "I don't know," I blurted. Remembering the queer alien hunch that had made me find the key, I added: "Some strange whim in my mind told me where it was and warned me not to throw it away."

  "Loki's work!" Odin whispered. "The evil one has cast forces abroad that have brought back the rune key that will set him free."

  Thor's face flamed crimson as he sprang to his feet, clutching his mighty weapon.

  "The arch-traitor still seeks to ruin Asgard and the Aesir!" he roared in overpowering rage. "Oh, that I could bring Miolnir down upon his skull this moment!"

  "Even your strength and mighty weapon would fail against the dark science of Loki," Odin said somberly.

  I looked down bewilderedly at the gold cylinder hanging on my chest. Into my mind flashed the last lines of the rune-rhyme graven on it.

  While I lie far,

  The Aesir safe are.

  Bring me not home

  Lest Ragnarok come.

  Those lines seemed to throb in my mind like a beating drum of black, dire menace that cannot be seen yet can be felt.

  "I do not understand, lord Odin," I faltered. "Have I done wrong in bringing this small and apparently harmless key into your land?"

  "Because you brought it," Odin stated, calm at last, "we are threatened with doom. A terrible menace has been a shadow over us for all these long centuries. That is the key which alone can loose the evil traitor Loki, who long has been prisoned."

  When he saw me pale at his words, his deep, heavy voice rumbled comfortingly through the frozen silence.

  "It is not your fault, Jarl Keith. I see it all now. It was Loki's power that brought you and the rune key here. Yes, from the gloomy prison where his body lies helpless, Loki's mind reached forth through his deep craft of scientific powers. He caused you to fish that rune key from the sea, and raised the storm that blew you hither. Aye, and it was to take from you the key that would free their dark lord that the Jotuns attacked you when you arrived."

  "But who is Loki?" I asked bewilderedly. "In the old myths of the northland, there was a tale of a traitor by that name, who sought to destroy you—"

  "Aye, a black traitor was accursed Loki!" shouted Thor. "The shame and the curse of the Aesir, since first he was born."

  "Aye, traitor he was, indeed," said Odin somberly. "Yet long ago, when we dwelt in the underworld of Muspelheim, Loki was the most honored of the Aesir, next to myself. Handsome, valiant, cunning, and learned, he was second only to me among the Aesir. But Loki, the greatest scientist of my people, longed for power. His experiments endangered us all, time and again. Finally, against my orders, Loki brought catastrophe on our great and lovely underworld."

  "Then Loki was the scientist you told me of!" I exclaimed. "He kindled the atomic fires of Muspelheim and nearly destroyed you!"

  Odin nodded. "Loki was that rash scientist of whom I spoke. Seeking to kindle a radiation that would keep us ever young, he touched off atomic fires that engulfed Muspelheim and forced us to flee to this upper world. I should have punished Loki then for his reckless disobedience. But I did not, because the flood of radiation would keep us almost immortal in this land. Instead I warned him that nobody must tamper further with the raving atomic fires below.

  "Loki agreed to tamper no more with those awful forces. But his promise was worth nothing. Secretly, here in Asgard, he traveled back into fiery Muspelheim, and began experimenting again. He hoped to forge such tremendous weapons from those forces that he could displace me as ruler of the Aesir and conquer all Earth. My son Baldur discovered Loki's forbidden researches in deep Muspelheim. To prevent Baldur from exposing him, Loki slew him. But he had already exposed himself.

  "Loki fled from Asgard. Taking with him his two hideous pets, the wolf Fenris and the Midgard snake, he fled to dark Jotunheim. There he allied himself with the brutal Jotuns. He knew they hated the Aesir, so he incited them to attack us, promising that with his scientific powers, he would help them conquer and sack Asgard.

  "That was the time of which I told you, Jarl Keith, when surprise and treachery almost enabled the Jotuns to conquer us. The Jotuns, led by Loki and aided by the hellish forces his science devised, would have overcome us had I not used my own scientific powers to defeat Loki's and had we not all fought valiantly. We repelled the Jotuns with great slaughter."

  Thor grinned and nodded, but his giant face reddened with hatred as Odin continued.

  "Defeated, Loki fled with his wolf and serpent into the labyrinth of caves in Midgard. We followed him to the cave in which he hid, but Loki, in his extremity, bargained cunningly for his life. Loki called out to us: 'I have an instrument which can destroy all Asgard and the Aesir, by loosing the sea upon the atomic fires of Muspelheim. Unless you agree to spare my life, I will use that secret and you will all perish with me.'"

  "'We agree then to spare your life, Loki,' I answered. 'You have our pledge, if you surrender that deadly instrument.' Loki surrendered the instrument to me. And then I told him: 'We agreed
to spare your life, Loki — but that is all! Though you shall remain alive, you will no longer be a menace to us, for we shall prison you eternally in this cave to which you fled.'

  "And we did that to Loki, Jarl Keith. We cast him into a state of suspended animation by filling his cave with a gas whose scientific secret I had discovered. That gas paralyzed the functions of the body by freezing, but left the mind conscious as ever. Into that waking, frozen sleep we cast Loki and his two hideous pets. Then we closed that cave forever with a door that was not of metal or stone, but of invulnerable force.

  "That wall of energy was a screen of vibrations controlled by the generator inside a tiny projector. You, Jarl Keith, have that projector — the rune key! Only the rune key can unlock the door of Loki's cave-prison. Until it is unlocked, Loki must lie there with his two dreadful familiars in suspended animation.

  "But though Loki's body lies frozen, his mind is awake and active, and he seeks by mental forces to free himself. We had given the wardership of the rune key to Odur, husband of Freya, one of our greatest jarls. Loki's mind worked from afar upon Odur by telepathic command, attempting to force the keeper of the key to release Loki.

  "Fearing that Loki's telepathic orders might some day succeed, I commanded Odur to take the rune key and travel to the great ocean far outside icy Niffleheim, and fling it into the deepest sea. Then, I thought, Loki would not be able to bring the key back into Asgard, and would never manage to escape his doom. Odur took the rune key and went beyond the ice of Niffleheim, and flung the key into the ocean as I bade.

  "But before he could return across the ice, Odur and his wife Freya and their party were lost. I think now that they reached the lands of your outer world, and that their tales of the Aesir and Asgard started the myths you mentioned, Jarl Keith. But we thought ourselves safe, with the rune key resting in the ocean deeps far outside Asgard.

  "For even did a stranger chance to find the key in some future day, the runes upon it would warn him. In case he could not read the runes, the key was constructed to telepath a constant thought message. He would receive a constant mental warning to get rid of the key."