The Age Of Odin

Sixty-Two

I was keeping lookout in the ruined hollow that had been one of the castle bedrooms. Nothing was happening outside. Campfires winked in the forest, but there'd been no sign of any overt hostile activity. Bitterly cold air whistled in through the caved-in outer wall. The stars were out in their millions, each a fleck of ice. The moon was as round and hard as a cannonball.

Freya brought me a mug of tea. She knocked on the frame of the shattered door first, before entering.

"Didn't want to startle you," she said. "I know how easy you are to catch unawares."

I murdered that drink. Hot, milky, delicious. "You're a godsend," I told her when the mug was drained.

"Soldiers love their tea. If I've learned anything these past months, it's that. They can't function without it."

"An army marches on its stomach, but only if its stomach's got a brew inside. So, what's the news? How's everyone holding up?"

"Reasonably well. Thwaite, however…"

"How is old Face Fungus?" I asked, although her tone of voice had already told me.

"He didn't make it. Frigga gave him all the attention she could, but she's been run ragged, her power is stretched thin… and he just didn't have the strength."

"Bugger. Anything else I should know about?"

"Nothing much. I did come across two of your teammates arguing."

"Backdoor and who?"

"Not him. Cy and the Irishman."

"Paddy? Arguing with Cy? What about?"

"That I don't know. I came in at the end of it. They were in the banqueting hall. Paddy called Cy a name and walked out fuming. That was all I saw."

"Huh. Well, they're both big boys. They can sort themselves out. It's a pressure situation. There's bound to be some friction. I'll maybe have a chat with them later, but it's probably just them getting on each other's nerves. Nothing to worry about."

Freya sat down beside me at my vantage point, near enough that our thighs were not quite touching. She stared out into the darkness. "Quiet out there."

"I'd say 'too quiet,' but that'd be a movie cliche. Frosties seem bedded down for the night. Doubt they'll attack before daybreak."

"Agreed. They're re-equipping themselves. Their ice-smiths will be busy repairing weapons and casting new ones. Normally it's a week's work to shape a decent blade, but they can put together something makeshift in under an hour."

"Let 'em. Makes no difference. Whatever they throw at us, we can handle it."

"From anybody else I would call that bravado. From you — you really believe it, don't you?"

"Why not? It's the only way to think. Otherwise, might as well just give up and go home."

"Why haven't you?"

"Why haven't I what?"

"Gone home."

"Don't understand the question."

She nestled in close to me. We were definitely touching now, her body firm and tight against mine. Knowing Freya, this was purely pragmatic. Compensating for the freezing temperatures, shared physical warmth, all that. And yet, it wasn't. It was more.

"This isn't your fight," she said. "You're a soldier of fortune. You're here only because money is involved. But still, you're going to see this through to the end. You're happy to."

"Loki has to be stopped."

"Is that all?"

"Isn't it enough? Nobody on Midgard seems able to stand up to him, but we can."

"Can we? We've taken such dreadful losses."

"Still here, though, aren't we? Still standing."

"I'm just saying I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to quit."

"I wouldn't forgive myself if I did."

"Asgard isn't your world."

"It isn't yours either, lady from Vanaheim."

"True, but I have a blood connection to it. The Aesir are family."

"And I feel like I have a connection to it too. I liked Odin a lot. I even liked Thor, the great big buffoon. And…"

I almost said something about her. About liking her. More than liking. Her being the strongest of my connections to Asgard. But that might have spooked her. Worse, she might have just laughed scornfully, and I simply didn't want to take that chance. I wasn't scared of much but I was scared of Freya rejecting me. Better that she and I have this exclusively sexual thing going, keep it at that level. I could gamble on making it more than that, but I might well wind up broke if I did.

"And," I said, "I'm a bloke who finishes what he sets out to do. I don't leave a job half done. Especially this sort of job. It's just who I am, Freya. I've come to realise that. I'm not cut out for much except combat. It's my thing, what I'm built for. Which is pretty sad, when you come to think of it — that I'm not really a well-rounded person, that I'll never be content as a civilian, that fighting is all I have. But as Detective Harry Callahan famously once said, 'A man's gotta know his limitations,' and I now know mine.

"For a while, after I got dropped from the army, something was missing. Not the piece of my head that I left in Afghanistan. Something deeper, essential. A purpose. I lost that and had nothing to replace it with. Coming here was about getting a second chance, but turns out it was also about reconnecting with who I am — who I'm supposed to be."

She didn't comment, didn't tell me to stop droning on and shut up, so I carried on.

"I fight. I kill. I'm a man of war. I'm not particularly proud of it, but I'm not ashamed of it either. Plenty of soldiers hate war. Most, I'd say. It scars them, fucks them up for life. But they fight anyway, because they're brave and because it's expected of them. And I'm no less fucked up than anyone. You should see some of the nightmares I have. Wouldn't wish them on my worst enemy. But my one advantage is that I know that, come what may, I have an aptitude for soldiering. I know I do it well, better than anything else. That — what's the word? — mitigates things for me. Makes it easier to put up with the rest of the shit that comes with the profession. Life hasn't given me a better alternative, so grin and bear it, eh?"

Her head snugged into the contours of my neck. Her shoulder pressed against my pectoral. Her hair smelled faintly, deliciously, of pine forests and ozone.

"And I'm not scared," I said. "Even if we lose to Loki — which we won't — I can accept it. I won't mind dying if it means I've done my bit trying to foil his plans. Bullying bastards like him can't be allowed to go unchecked. They have to be challenged, faced down, given a damn good slap if that's what's required. And above all else I know that this is the upside of me being such a full-on battlefield hardcase. I can use it in the name of what's right. Cloud, silver lining. I've been gifted with the ability to kick arses and the good sense to know which are the arses needing to be kicked. And that's… Freya?"

My only answer was a soft snore.

I smiled to myself. A Vanir goddess needed her beauty sleep as much as the next person.

I did something then that I never thought I'd do with Freya. Tenderly, I kissed the top of her head. She stirred, mumbled what might have been a complaint, then settled down again.

The wind hissed.

The castle slumbered.

It was a good night.

The best.