Larson recoiled. The life auras of god and sorceress fused to glaring green. "Who are you?" demanded Silme boldly.
"I am Skuld, Future." The giantess' voice rattled trees. "In what cause have you summoned me, Silme Sapphirerank?"
"The cause of men and gods." Silme replied nearly as loud. "Should Chaos claim this world, there shall be no Law nor time nor knowledge. You and your sister Fates would perish." Her entreaty rolled like thunder through the silence of the forest. "How must we free Vidarr from imprisonment?"
A breeze rose and fell, rose and fell again. Several seconds passed before Larson recognized the wind as the breath of the giantess Skuld. "Your fears are founded, Lady Silme. Your quest is honorable, though it brings doom upon others, men and women of my domain, those ruled by one of your companions and beloved by the other. It is not my place to judge your task nor prevent it. The answer to your question lies with my sisters." Skuld marched back into the forest, trampling trees like matchsticks.
The giantess' prophecy sounded strange to Larson's numbed mind. How could rescuing men from Chaos doom them for the future? Before he found time to ponder the question, another woman shouldered between the trees. She looked sufficiently like Skuld to be her sister, yet not similar enough to be a twin.
"I am Verdandi," the giantess said, though no one asked her name. "I hold title to the present. Your query has gone beyond my realm to the past. I can tell you only that your quest stands contested by a god and a half-breed with the power to destroy you." Swiftly, she returned to the forest.
Cold sweat ran down Larson's back, and he shook with chills despite the heat. The third sister of Fate glided from the tangled brush. Vertigo transformed her to a blur which sharpened slowly to detail. She was obviously the eldest of the giantesses, smaller, withered, face puckered with burdens transferred from her sisters by time.
"I am Urdr, keeper of the past and the understanding of Odin. It was I who added the final provision to Loki's spell, and I who shall reveal that knowledge to you. To free my lord, Vidarr, the elf must claim Loki's life with the blade Valvitnir."
Shock battered Larson, obscured Urdr in glare. Silme's scream pierced his mind like a spear, jarring loose a wild memory. The sound transformed to the shrill whine of jets. Even as Larson located the blood-red afterburners of the paired phantoms, he recognized his surroundings. He traveled a familiar road in the Mekong Delta. Some distance ahead, a dozen buddies in cammie paused in horror as they discovered the jets' target was the same village which had, moments before, been their destination.
The lead jet passed over the village. A raging column of flame consumed grass huts and villagers without mercy. Panicked screams made Larson cringe. Even as the gasoline fumes pinched his nose, he realized he was neither in flashback nor alone. The dry crackle of gathering magics made him whirl toward Silme and Vidarr. "Oh my god! Silme, no!"
His warning came too late. Sorceries howled past his ear with all the inhuman speed of the phantoms. Bluish magics impacted the trailing jet and broke to a savage explosion of emerald. Shards of twisted steel rained to earth. Larson's sinews went taut with shock. He could only suppose Silme saw the jets as dragons swooping upon an innocent town. Ahead on the road, the camouflaged men dropped, as one, to the ground. Suddenly,
Larson knew he and his otherworld companions had become the enemy.
"Down!" hollered Larson. He dove into the roadside ditch. Gunfire popped and sputtered around him, sounding oddly impotent after the scourge of napalm and the thunderclap of Silme's spell. With no means or desire to return fire on his buddies, Larson flattened to the dirt without recourse. What have I done? Worried over the ignorance of his alien companions, he forced his gaze toward the road. Vidarr and Silme stood behind a shimmering curtain which reflected bullets like a wall.
The oddity of their magical defense was not lost on the Americans. One yelled. "Holy fucking god!" Silme began a new incantation. Dark mists broiled from her fingertips. A graying glow flickered around the enchantress and winked out like a spent candle. As Silme drained her life energy, she fell in a soundless faint.
"Silme!" screamed Larson. The sorceress lay still within her magical shield, but her final spell was cast, Wizardry rolled along the road like a living ball of fire. The men in cammie dodged from the path of the sorceries with startled cries. And, from over the burning village, Larson caught sight of the returning phantom. Faster than its own report, the jet glided toward them in vengeful silence.
"No!" Larson hollered. Smoke from the smoldering village swirled like ghosts into the phantom's twin intakes. Larson lay frozen in terror. A rocket dropped from beneath the jet, plummeted, then shot forward with a speed which outdistanced the plane. Before Larson could scream, the missile crashed to ground with a blast of red-orange. Its explosion seemed to shatter earth. Though the magical shield contained most of its impact, force crashed against Larson's head and knocked him to oblivion.
Larson awakened to utter darkness. Screams of terror ripped from his lungs and reverberated like distant answers. Throat raw, he fell to silence and recognized the slosh of running water. The rasp of a sword scraping from its sheath restored his rationality. Larson struggled to legs stiff with disuse. His hand closed about Valvitnir's hilt. "Gaelinar?" he whispered hopefully.
Gaelinar's gruff reply had never seemed so welcome. "I should have known it was you, hero. How do you feel?"
"Shaky," Larson admitted. "And blind." A scene threaded through his mind, the memory of Silme lying still as death on a road in the Mekong Delta. "Where's Silme?"
The sorceress called over the bubbling of the river Sylg. "Here. The real question, Allerum, is where was Silme."
Larson groped toward Silme's voice. "My world. I'm sorry. I tried to control my memories, I swear I did, but:" Silme caught his arm. It occurred to Larson with frightening abruptness that the surrounding darkness was too complete for night. He finished with an anxious whine. " Dammit, why can't I see?"
Gaelinar replied. "We're in the Valley of Darkness."
"H-how?"
"We carried you," Silme explained. "Bramin can only track us through your mind. With you unconscious, we traveled as quickly as we could."
Larson pulled Silme closer. "Why are we still headed toward Hvergelmir?"
Gaelinar sounded nearer. "Because Loki expects us there. He wants your sword destroyed in the Helspring, and for all he knows we plan to complete that quest. He'll be there to make certain it gets done."
"Please, Allerum " Silme spoke with concern. "Talk with Vidarr. Make certain he's all right after: what happened."
Reluctantly, Larson released Silme and drew Valvitnir. The sword quivered mournfully in his grip. Vidarr's mental presence wound cautiously through the fragile tangles of his mind. / pity your people. The men of your world removed all the glory from war and left only killing.
Larson jammed the sword into its sheath and broke his link with Vidarr. "He's fine," Larson grumbled. But the god's assessment echoed through his mind, awakening a terrifying thought. When we complete this quest and the gods of Asgard no longer need me, what becomes of me? Will Freyr return me to the skill-less death machine of the Vietnam war?
With a strength born of imagined injustice, he jerked the sword free again. Vidarr:?
The god answered defensively before Larson finished the question. / don't know what Freyr plans! My own fate is tenuous enough. Since my imprisonment, I know only what I see through your eyes.
Damn! Larson dashed the sword to the ground. Its blue flare faded darkness in a circle of purple. Larson crushed Silme to his chest in frustration, and her dragonstaff cracked painfully against his shoulder. His lips brushed her face, found her mouth, and pressed into a passionate kiss. Desire burned him like fire, but he loosened his grip and fought bitterness. "Silme, the success of this quest may doom us to separate worlds." Grief caught the words in his throat. "There is a link between our worlds, even if it's only in my mind. We passed through it once. I swear, if Freyr sends me back to Nam, I'll find a way to return to you."