Stormbringer: Book 2 of the Wyrd

Twenty-One

"Ásgarðr makes war upon us, always." Valdís's feathers bristled, her claws scratching white grooves into stone. "Your father"—she spat the word—"worst among them. Thor the Thunderer, with eyes like dead black coal and beard soaked in our children's blood."

"Enough!" The scrape of Þrúðr's chair was very loud as she stood. Tiny compared to Valdís's hulking shape, but not less ferocious for it. "My father was a good man!"

"Your father was a monster! Murderer and oath breaker who slaughtered our people by the hundreds."

"And your father helped him!"

Valdís roared, fists slamming down hard enough on the table to crack it, just a little. Sigmund, meanwhile, was frantically trying to communicate peace to the equally startled Uni.

"Þrúðr," Uni said. "I think—"

Þrúðr turned to him. "What? You think what? That we should treaty with these monsters? Who raid your homes and terrify your children? Striking when you are weak, cowards that they are."

Another roar from Valdís, and Sigmund winced, putting a hand on her arm. Beneath the feathers, he could feel muscles clenched as hard as steel, and when Valdís turned to glare his way, her eyes burned. Like, literally glowing, just a little.

Sigmund made an expression that tried to convey I know they're being assholes, but you can eat them later. Valdís must've gotten the message—at least something of the message—because she slumped back on her haunches a moment later. Still looming over the dvergr-sized table, feathers bristling.

Þrúðr and Uni were also busy hissing at each other in hushed whispers, Uni's skin a riot of oscillating color. Sigmund let them have them a moment before saying, "Look. This is getting us nowhere. Myrkviðr will launch an assault on Ásgarðr if they think the alternative is letting the hammer come home. I'm pretty sure no one in this room wants that. In order to stop things going to shit, we need to find Lain and Þrúðr's brothers."

"And mine, also." Uni sounded strained, like the confession was being mined from him by pickaxes.

"Uni!" Þrúðr hissed, elbowing Uni in the side, still fuming at Valdís across the table.

"No, Þrúðr. They . . . they should know. It is part of things." He turned to Sigmund. "Your warriors have our village. We have children here, the old and those tasked with the care of both. Our own warriors deserted us, I assume you have seen this?" Sigmund nodded, and Uni continued, "They left just after Þrúðr's brothers, not on the same transport. My brother was among them and yet I do not know wherefore they went. Tóki's father tells me that, just before he left, Tóki spent all night working the forges. We do not know what he made, but we do know he was visited by your husband. A servant reported hearing a noise as they spoke. Like a crack of thunder, but from inside. I do not know what made it."

Sigmund scowled. "A 'crack of thunder'?" From Lain? Lain did fire, not lightning. And fire didn't tend to boom.

"Yes," Uni said. "Neither my brother nor your husband appeared harmed. Nor was there any indication of violence in the room where they had met. Nothing out of place." Uni paused. Þrúðr's fists were balled right enough to send her knuckles white. Sigmund could feel the punch line.

And what Uni said was:

"Nothing was out of place in the room, but for a single shield, removed from the wall and left upon the table. A single hole had been drilled through the center."

A sound like thunder, a single hole. Sigmund got a sinking feeling.

"Tell me," he said. "On the wall, where the shield should've been. There was a hole there, too. Right?"