The Monstrous Child Page 5

‘I was Embla,’ said the shade. She was trembling. ‘The first woman.’

  ‘What do you mean, the first woman?’

  ‘Where the earth meets the sea,’ said Embla in her sing-song voice, ‘on the strip of land belonging neither to land nor water, the All-Father Odin and his brothers carved two of us, a man and a woman, from a dead ash and a dead elm tree. They breathed life into us, gave us feelings and heart and wits and sight.’

  I listened to the corpse, and I could not believe what I was hearing. My hatred for One-Eye, which I did not think could be greater, rose into my throat like vomit. What a vanity project, to make mortals – people! – just so you could have your own gaggle of worshippers and followers. Wasn’t it enough that he had made himself ruler over all the gods? Did he really need to create little creatures out of wood to lord over as well?

  The arrogance. The conceit.

  So these were the things I was forced to host. One-Eye’s driftwood.

  ‘I’ve died in childbirth, and here I am. Fateless,’ said Embla.

  My first guest. The first of the unwelcome ones I am forced to rule for eternity. Uggh. She looked at me, as if awaiting direction. What was I supposed to do? What I wanted to do was yell, ‘Buzz off, Bones! Jump in the river and drown.’ But Odin had condemned me to receive anyone who came to me.

  Well, I wasn’t doing it for nothing. Everyone likes a gift, after all.

  ‘I’m your queen,’ I said. ‘What have you brought me?’

  Embla paused.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  I drew myself up as straight as I could.

  ‘You’re expecting me to host you in my hall,’ I said. ‘And not just for a winter, but forever. It is customary to bring gifts to your lord, in thanks for hospitality.’

  ‘What hall?’ asked Embla. ‘I don’t see any hall.’

  ‘This kingdom is my hall,’ I said, waving my arms.

  ‘This isn’t a hall,’ she said.

  Wasn’t it enough that the dead stank? Did they have to be rude as well?

  I pointed to the sheer rocks behind me.

  ‘I’m building one over there,’ I said.

  ‘When you’ve finished the hall we’ll talk about gifts,’ said Embla.

  ‘When I’ve built the hall, you’ll be lucky to get the chance to clean it,’ I snapped as Embla drifted off. She was a dead piece of driftwood – who was she to argue with me about accommodation? (All right, I know what you’re thinking. I really don’t have the personality to be an innkeeper. Can I remind you I never asked for this job?)

  I could see what was going to happen. It wouldn’t just be one or two or three reeking corpses coming to stay. It would be hundreds. Thousands. Eventually, millions and billions of shades trickling over the bridge, a never-ending malignant ghost stream.

  I’d have to build a hall for them. I had no choice.

  What then? I’d been ordered to host the dead. How do you host people? I’d leave mead as ordered. I just had no intention of wheeling out the hostess trolley and hanging around. Let the dead fend for themselves. Odin made them; let Odin do his own dirty work.

  I inched through swirls of fog, my legs aching and numb, as the crash of water grew louder and louder and I saw lights glinting off a golden bridge.

  The bridge!

  Shining, gleaming, thatched with gold. Sparks of light flashed from its sides and roof. A river thundered below, sullen with blocks of ice, bubbling fumes rising from its torrents. On the other side I could just see a twisting track rising upwards into the gloom, and shadowy forms and corpses coming down it.

  I hugged myself for joy. My terrified stumbling around Niflheim had paid off. I’d survived and I’d reached the way out.

  Almost beside myself with exhaustion, I willed my collapsing legs and body to carry on. Once across the bridge dividing the land of the living from the land of the dead, I would travel as far as I could. I would find a cave hidden from Odin’s baleful eye, deep in Jotunheim. They say he can see anywhere into the nine worlds. Maybe. Could he see me now? I didn’t care. I stuck out my tongue.

  ‘That’s for you, One-Eye,’ I hissed. ‘You son of a mare.’

  I shuffled to the radiant bridge as fast as I could stagger, closer and closer, my freedom beckoning through the mists, and then stepped onto –

  Nothing. I was at the covered bridge’s near side, which glowed one pace in front of me, and it was as if I were taking a leap into emptiness. I stepped again, and stayed in my place. I held out my hands – was there some strange force keeping me back? I felt nothing but the chill and choking vapour whirling around me.

  I could not put my foot on the bridge. I could not reach out my hand and touch the sides.

  ‘Let me pass!’ I ordered. My voice echoed in the valley of death.

  Would the bridge obey, as the rocks and boulders had?

  I stepped forward, and again did not move. I stretched out my hand and it was blocked. Corpses and spirits wafted silently over the bridge from the other side and passed by me.

  All traffic was one way.

  And at that moment I knew I was trapped forever. One-Eye had banished me here, and his spells had bound me to this poisonous place as much as any corpse. The dead can never return to the land of the living, and neither could I.

  Here I would stay, alive, sealed in a grave barrow until the doom of the gods.

  I would never see Baldr again.

  I fell to my knees and screamed. I hurled boulders into the river (who knew I had the strength of a troll?), cracking the blocks of ice and splashing the water high into the air. My new-found power astounded me.

  Then I collapsed to the frozen earth in tears. I was like a child in a playpen, hurling rocks out. When all the rocks were gone, I was still in prison. Immortal or not, I would sicken and die on this pestilent ground. I heard the dog howling again.

  ‘How did you sneak past me?’ came a stern voice. Long-nailed fingers poked my shoulder.

  I jerked away.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ I whispered.

  What ghoulish creature was going to attack now? Let them eat me. I was past caring.

  19

  PALE GIANTESS, somewhere between child and mid-grown, peered down at me.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ she asked.

  I was not expecting this. I definitely was not expecting this. What was a giantess doing in Niflheim?

  ‘Go away,’ I said. ‘Leave me alone.’

  She did not move.

  I sneaked a peek at her.

  The giantess stood taller than me, but not by much. She looked about my age. But most difficult to take in was that she –

  ‘Are you dead?’ I asked.

  ‘Do I look dead?’ said the girl.

  She looked very alive to me. Positively blooming with health, if you ignored her chalk-white skin, like bleached bones the ravens have pecked dry. Was she a guard One-Eye had set over me? She didn’t appear to have any weapons, but she might have spells.

  ‘Are you lost?’ I asked. Our breath mingled in the murky air.

  The girl snorted.

  ‘I don’t think anyone wanders down here by accident.’ She looked at me curiously.

  ‘You’re not dead, are you?’ she said.

  ‘Half,’ I said.

  ‘You can’t be half,’ said the girl. ‘It’s either/or.’

  I shrugged, flicked aside my robes and showed her my gangrenous legs. She didn’t even flinch. Or wrinkle her nose. That was a first.

  ‘I’ve seen a lot worse,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t believe the state of some of those fateless ones when they arrive. Who were – I mean, who are you?’ She grinned. ‘That’s not a question I’ve ever asked before.’

  ‘I’m queen. I’m supposed to rule here,’ I said. ‘By Odin’s decree.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the maiden. ‘Congratulations?’

  We looked at one another and for some reason we both started to laugh. (I don’t remember laughing since. What do I have to laugh about?
) The sound echoed across the murky valley, bouncing back to us from the cliffs and over the roar of the river.

  ‘I’m Hel,’ I said. ‘Queen of the Dead.’ The words sounded unreal in my mouth.

  ‘I’m Modgud,’ said the giantess.

  Modgud means war frenzy. She was a giantess all right. Like I said, who else gives their children such horrible names? She looked about as frenzied as a nut.

  ‘Did the gods throw you down here too?’

  ‘I don’t know any gods,’ she said. ‘Except Blood Mother – I’ve heard of her. I guard the bridge.’

  Guard? That meant she had power. That meant …

  I proceeded carefully.

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘To keep out the living,’ said Modgud. ‘Only the dead can cross the River Gjoll. I’m the warden of the bridge. I protect the boundary between the living and the dead.’

  What, she expected an invasion of the living to force their way to the Realm of the Dead before their time? Was she mad?

  ‘Why would anyone alive come here?’ I asked.

  ‘Seeking wisdom,’ said Modgud. ‘Hoping for answers. Trying to learn the secrets only the dead know.’

  More fool them spying and prying.

  I pulled myself to my feet.

  ‘Let me cross.’ My voice shook.

  Modgud stared at me.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Let me leave,’ I said. ‘Please.’ (The word please stuck in my proud throat, but I had to say it.)

  ‘Everyone wants to leave,’ said Modgud. ‘But you can’t.’

  ‘I order you.’

  ‘Order away,’ said Modgud. ‘Nothing can change.’

  ‘I’ll kill you,’ I said. ‘I will, I’ll kill you.’

  Modgud raised her pale eyebrows. ‘What difference would that make? You still couldn’t leave.’ She looked at me, almost kindly. ‘You’ll get used to it, Hel. Everyone does in the end.’

  I shook my head fiercely.

  We sat silently, lost in the swirling sleet. The only sound was the clashing blocks of ice as they hurtled down the river and the winds that never stopped gusting.

  ‘There’s more dead arriving,’ she said, pointing. ‘Look.’

  Coming down the fog road was a shade in the shape of a woman. A few cooking pots and a spindle clanked behind her.

  Modgud ran over and took up her post.

  She raised her pale arm, on which no gold bands glittered, and the ghost stopped. She murmured something, then Modgud nodded and stepped aside.

  ‘Pass by.’

  The ghost continued slowly on the downward path leading from the bridge.

  ‘Now what am I supposed to do?’ muttered the shade. ‘Who’s chieftain here? Where do I go? This isn’t right. I deserve better – I own two farms and five hundred sheep, I –’ Her angry voice faded as she vanished beyond the cliffs.

  I watched as more and more dead streamed down the long track from Midgard, drawn like moths to the glistening bridge. Some dragged wagon-loads of grave goods behind them, others carried a knife or an axe or a jug. One clutched a broken sword; another a bucket. I felt light-headed. So many dead … so many more would arrive. On and on and on –

  ‘You came from – up?’ said Modgud. She kept her eyes fixed on the bridge as she spoke.

  I nodded.

  ‘Midgard?’

  ‘No, Jotunheim.’

  Modgud looked blank.

  ‘Jotunheim. The home of the giants. Like you.’

  She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Never heard of it.’

  ‘And Asgard. The citadel in the sky where the cursed gods live – the ones who banished me here.’

  Modgud lowered her head.

  ‘What’s it like up there?’ whispered Modgud. ‘Under the sky?’

  My eyes watered.

  ‘Colour and light.’

  ‘Colour?’ said Modgud.

  ‘Like grass is green,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve never seen grass.’

  Green like my father’s eye. Green like Yggdrasil’s leaves. Green like –‘Green like – gangrene.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Modgud. She nodded.

  ‘Blue – like bruises. Red like blood. Yellow like pus. And it can smell – so sweet,’ I said.

  ‘Like the dead?’ asked Modgud.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Like the living.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ said the little giantess.

  ‘How did you get here?’ I asked.

  Modgud shrugged. ‘I’ve always been here. Since the worlds began. I know nothing else.’

  ‘Do you always have to stand guard here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When do you sleep?’

  ‘The Echoing Bridge screams if anyone alive steps on it,’ she said. ‘I don’t need much sleep –’

  She paused, watching a troop of dead warriors drift over Gjoll, bloodstained and hacked, their weapons stilled, their studded helmets dangling. Valhall rejects. Unchosen by the Choosers of the Slain. The unglorious dead. Talk about a club you don’t want to join … Would they rampage when they realised their bad fate?

  ‘What will you do now, Queen?’

  A million replies raced through my mind, starting with ‘Kill the gods’ and ending with ‘Kill myself.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘The dead need a hall,’ said Modgud. ‘And so do you.’

  A hall. Embla had ranted about a hall.

  Modgud waved her bone-white arms. ‘It’s chaos here,’ she said. ‘There’s no order, no one’s in charge, the dead don’t know what to do or where to go. We’ve been waiting for you.’

  I am a goddess. And now I was a queen. I couldn’t skulk in a cave for eternity.

  ‘I’ll build a hall,’ I said. ‘Beyond those cliffs.’ My own place, where no one would tell me what to do. A fortress of stone. A walled stronghold and a great hall within impregnable ramparts. I would carve out a kingdom here, and I would name it … The name could come later.

  Modgud nodded. ‘Come and visit me whenever you like, Hel,’ she said. ‘It’s nice to talk to someone who still has flesh on their body. When you’ve seen one skull –’

  ‘I keep thinking I hear a dog howling,’ I said.

  Modgud looked alarmed.

  ‘That’s Garm. Don’t worry, he’s –’

  ‘Where is he? If I call him will he come? I’ve always wanted a dog –’

  ‘You don’t want him,’ said Modgud.

  ‘Don’t tell me what I want and what I don’t.’ She was a follower – she had no right to speak to me like that.

  ‘Trust me, you really don’t,’ said Modgud. Her face was mild, as always. ‘He guards one of the other entrances here. He’s more monster than dog, actually. He’ll rip your head off if you get too close. But don’t worry – he’s chained up in a cliff cave.’

  The image of my wolf brother, frothing in his fetters, came unwelcome into my mind.

  ‘Any other monsters down here I should know about?’

  ‘The dragon, Nidhogg,’ said Modgud. ‘He lives far below on the Shore of Corpses, twisted around the roots of Yggdrasil. I don’t think he’d eat you – he likes dead bodies, mainly.’

  ‘Seen him,’ I said.

  ‘There’s also the black-burnt fire giant, Surt, who rules the southern kingdom across the void. He stands guard at the border in the flames holding a fiery sword – no one who isn’t from that land can enter.’

  It wasn’t hard to cross a fire demon off my calling list.

  The full horror of where I was hit me again.

  Baldr – I hadn’t known how lonely I was until I’d met him. And now –

  Just thinking of his name convulsed me. I breathed heavily, then started to cough. The fumes were indescribable in their horror. You’d expect after sharing a cave with a blood-soaked wolf and a poisonous snake (let alone myself) I’d be used to the stench of death.

  ‘It stinks here.’

  ‘Really?’ said Mod
gud. She sniffed the rancid air a few times. ‘Can’t say I notice.’

  I lurched carefully to my feet, trying not to slip on the dripping rocks. I watched the roaming, agitated corpses, flapping about like insects in fire. There was something mesmerising about their swooping motion. What was less hypnotic were their whiny voices and shrill complaints – a great stew of misery.

  What a mess. What a horrible mess it was down here. The dead and their angry empty eyes – ugh.

  I made my decision then.

  Niflheim is the world before the world, the land that exploded into being when time was young and Midgard was silent. I would lift the corners of this ancient chaos and create a new world.

  The frightened, mortal gods had imprisoned me and my brothers, but at the End of Days we would break free and rage against them. That’s what the prophesy foretold.

  Yet until that happy twilight when the doomed gods were destroyed –

  I swore three things:

  1. I would find a way out.

  2. I would see Baldr again.

  3. I would be avenged.

  20

  IRST THINGS FIRST. Before I measured out the boundaries of Hel within the blackness of Niflheim, I needed to turn my mind to hall-building. (That’s right. I’m going to call my realm Hel. What better name than my own?)

  I am a queen; I wanted a hall to rival any in Asgard. There are great riches here to be plundered, if the wealth I’ve seen the dead hauling after them is any indication.

  Unfortunately (I am so uniquely cursed and unlucky that everything to do with me could begin with that word), I have to design and build my citadel myself. My palace is the first here.

  Of course, it needs to be enormous. Greater than any palace in Asgard. There are an awful lot of dead. Why did Odin make his driftwood so weak that they only live for a blink of a raven’s eye before cluttering up my kingdom?

  How I would love to keep all those wailing shades far, far away from me. If only I could hang a ‘Beware of the Monster’ sign on my gates, build my hall and lock the doors for eternity.

  But I am subject to One-Eye’s decree, and I must offer a welcome.

  I draw up my list of must-haves.

  1. Location. Location. Location. That is key. No building beside a spewing volcano, or sulphurous swamp, or raging rivers flowing with chewed carcasses. Believe me, places that don’t contain at least one of the above are hard to find in Niflheim.