Reactions and muscles honed by combat across two thousand years threw Church backwards onto the stairs, his sword coming up just in time to deflect another blow so powerful he was afraid his blade would shatter. The jarring impact almost plunged him into unconsciousness.
There was not even a second to recover. Tyr drove his silver hook towards Church’s head. Church rolled and the hook smashed through the stairs a fraction of an inch from his skull.
The axe was already swinging again as Church jumped off the stairs over the arc. As he came down, Caledfwlch tore open Tyr’s side.
Tyr’s roar was deafening, but Church was surprised to hear it evolve into booming laughter. ‘Not just a little fox after all!’ he yelled insanely. ‘I will enjoy carving you into food for the ravens!’
The axe whirling in a blur, Tyr launched himself with the strength and speed of a beast. He had no qualms about his own safety. Church sliced a chunk of the flesh from his bicep, but Tyr continued oblivious.
Church had already worked out a strategy to back Tyr into a space where he couldn’t wield the axe when three shots rang out. Hunter stood on the stairs with Laura beside him. He waved the handgun towards Church. ‘One of the perks of working for the Government.’
Tyr stopped, puzzled. He dug one meaty finger into the bullet hole in his chest and delved around for a few seconds before retrieving the bullet. He examined it curiously and then turned his attention to Hunter and Laura.
‘You should not be in the shimmering. Why has my sister’s seior failed?’ He shrugged. ‘No matter. More bones for the pot.’
Hunter examined the gun contemptuously. ‘I tell you, what’s the point? I should just throw this away and get a fish knife or a spoon or something.’
‘All right, damsel in distress here,’ Laura said insistently as Tyr began to advance. ‘Aren’t you tossers actually supposed to be doing something?’
‘We’re going to throw you to him as a diversion,’ Hunter said.
Church tried to blindside Tyr as the god attacked Hunter and Laura, but a whirlwind of axe movements protected him. Chunks of masonry in clouds of dust flew wherever the axe hit.
Hunter propelled Laura through a gap in the shattered stairway, and they raced to Church before Tyr could turn.
‘We need to find somewhere defensible until we can work out our options,’ Hunter said.
‘Agreed.’ Church led the way into the dining area and then through to the kitchens. Hunter locked the steel door behind them.
‘That’s not going to keep the hairy bastard out.’ Laura snatched up a meat-cleaver.
The thunder of the axe against the door made her leap back with a shriek. The door bowed, almost shattered.
‘Here.’ Hunter indicated a gas canister ready to be installed in one of the ranges. Church understood instantly.
When the door burst in, Church brought Caledfwlch down sharply, slicing neatly through the canister’s nozzle. Hunter ignited the jet of gas, which roared directly into Tyr as he crashed into the kitchen. The conflagration engulfed him instantly. Flesh crackled and popped, fat sizzled, eyeballs burst.
They had to press their hands against their ears to cut out his ear-shattering bellows, but even then there was a hint of ecstasy in his cries. With flames leaping from him, he lashed out blindly until he could control himself no more and lurched back the way he had come.
‘I wonder how long it’ll take him to recover,’ Church said.
‘Time enough for us to get the hell out of Dodge,’ Hunter replied. ‘If you’ll excuse me a cowboy moment.’
Laura hurled her cleaver across the kitchen. ‘Aren’t I the spare part,’ she said angrily.
Burning fittings and the screech of the fire alarm marked Tyr’s passing into the frozen outdoors where it had started snowing again.
But as they turned to the wrecked stairs, they were confronted by vegetation streaming down the remaining steps and railing.
‘You ready?’ Church gripped his sword with both hands.
‘Fuck, no,’ Hunter replied. ‘I didn’t pick up my spoon from the kitchen. I suppose I could use my teeth.’
Freyja rounded the turn in the stairs, her smile eliciting instant arousal in Church, Hunter and Laura. Behind her came the Leshy, twisted like an old hawthorn tree but his eyes blazing with a fierce light. He held two strands of ivy pulled taut over his shoulder. They stretched back to Tom and Shavi who were hovering a foot above the stairs, bound tightly with creeper. Both wore crowns of thorns that dug into their flesh with a life of their own, bringing streams of blood down their faces. They appeared unconscious, though their eyes were wide open, unblinking.
Hunter and Laura remained entranced, but the flickering power in Caledfwlch reached into Church and broke the spell. Instead of Freyja, he saw Ruth and that gave him all the strength he needed.
‘Set them free.’
Freyja was intrigued by his resistance. ‘That cannot be. They are to be crucified on the world-oak as small payment for your trespass. Be content that you do not join them.’
‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘You would oppose the gods?’ Her voice grew flinty.
‘Anything that gets in my way. Set them free.’
A rustling, hissing sound escaped from the Leshy. He dropped the ivy bonds and advanced on Church in a jerky, creeping manner.
Church’s resistance infected Laura and Hunter, who shook off their enchantment. ‘These are the Scandinavian gods, right?’ Laura shouted to Church.
‘Germanic. Slavonic. I don’t know how far their Great Dominion stretches. By the way, this really isn’t the time for a theological discussion.’
‘Odin’s the big boss, right?’ she pressed. ‘Or Woden, or whatever?’
Church adopted a fighting stance. The Leshy did not appear the least bit scared by the sword or the power it represented.
Laura backed off, but Church could hear her muttering, ‘Come on! I need you.’
The Leshy was only feet away when the main doors burst open and a blast of snowy wind rushed in. Behind it came a cloaked figure in a battered, shapeless hat, a gnarled staff in one hand. A raven sat on each shoulder.
‘All-Father?’ Freyja’s confidence drained away, and she bowed her head. The Leshy stopped in its tracks and did the same.
The new arrival strode forward. He was a bearded man with an eye patch, but he exuded great power, and it was familiar. ‘The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons have free passage through this Great Dominion,’ the All-Father said. ‘One of them wields Gungnir, my own spear. Did you not know?’
Freyja bowed sheepishly.
‘Where is my daughter?’ he asked Church gently. ‘I cannot sense her.’
Church realised he meant Ruth. ‘I don’t know.’ A chill ran through him. Why could the All-Father not sense her?
‘Free them,’ the All-Father commanded.
As the creepers fell away from Shavi and Tom, they dropped to the stairs. Hunter and Laura ran to reclaim them.
‘We are all waking now, All-Father,’ Freyja said. ‘The Aesir … the Vanir … all the others. Is this it, then? Is this Ragnarok?’
‘Yes,’ the All-Father replied gravely. ‘It is Ragnarok.’
Freyja blanched.
‘In their cavern, the Norns are stirring their pot and whispering. Urd looks at what has been, Verdandi considers what is and Skuld counts down the moments to the End-Times.’ The All-Father rested on his gnarled staff.
‘Then the end is already foretold.’
‘Only the Fates know.’
Freyja searched his face for a moment, then bowed her head and walked slowly out into the night, the Leshy trailing behind her. The All-Father turned to Laura.
‘You called, daughter. I came, as I always said I would.’
Laura smiled uncomfortably.
‘Brother of Dragons,’ the All-Father said to Church, ‘you face many dangers as you move through the Great Dominions, and I cannot help you with those. You must tread with caution, for the powers ranged against you are greater even than here.’