Читать книгу Goddess of Fate - Alexandra Sokoloff - Страница 11

Chapter 4

The dark bowl of the cosmos surrounded Aurora and her sisters, with bright lights of galaxies above them and reflected in the black water below them. The glowing white path stretched across the starry blackness.

By mortal day the Bifrost sometimes appeared as a rainbow, all the dazzling separate colors of the sun. But in the deep and constant darkness of the universe, it had the pearly luminosity of a moon path. The sisters’ skin was fantastical in the glowing light; they looked like what they were: ancient, immortal beings of the Aesir, the pantheon of the gods.

Below the bridge was the great ocean that surrounded Midgard, the world of men. The Bifrost was the only way to cross it. Aurora looked down, down, down toward the blackness of the water. She knew that beneath the ocean lay the gigantic sea serpent Jörmungandr, who was so huge he circled the world entirely and grasped his tail in his own mouth as he slept. Soon, it was prophesied, he would waken and arise from the ocean, poisoning land and sea with his venom, and causing the sea to rear up and lash against the land. These actions would send cataclysms through the mortal world, signaling the beginning of Ragnarok—the battle at the end of the world.

In fact, the first stirrings had begun, causing the unprecedented earthquakes, the hurricanes, the destructive tsunamis that crashed the water onto the land, leveling all in their paths. All the signs of the End of Days were there—floods and drought, war and famine and toxic spills and scorching lethal heat waves. But the humans carried on as they always had, seemingly oblivious to their incipient destruction and the multidimensional war to come.

Aurora’s heart tightened at the thought. That was what Val was trying to carry Luke off to: service in the army of the gods.

But even if it was prophesied, that didn’t mean it had to be that way. Why should the world end in war and cataclysm? Why should the world end at all? It had always seemed to Aurora that the prophecy could be reversed by a little refocusing: less war and more, well, love...

“You better snap out of it, we’re almost there.” Val’s voice broke her train of thought.

Aurora looked up and realized they were already across the bridge: at the horizon line, the darkness shimmered and the sisters stepped as through a curtain.

At the very end of the bridge was a marble gatehouse—the dwelling of the god Heimdallr, who guarded the bridge from the giants, the Jotunn. He stood in gleaming gold armor at the crossroads of the worlds, always ready to sound the alarm if the evil beings tried to leave their own realm to overrun the world of gods or the world of men. It was only a matter of time before the giants made an assault on the other worlds; it, too, had been prophesied.

Aurora shivered. It was all so close. So close, and so fatal, unless someone did something...

Although the three sisters were still so far from Heimdallr they could barely see him, he stood from the throne of the guardhouse as they approached, looking toward them. Aurora had always felt safe, guarded, having the god posted as eternal sentry.

“My ladies.” He bowed to them, which was chivalry only; he far outranked them in the hierarchy. But all of the gods had a certain respect for the Norns; it had always been that way. Aurora was proud of the duty it implied. A duty she’d now trampled on, she realized with a pang, and felt a wave of guilt.

But I’m not going to let Luke die, not even for Odin. I won’t, she told herself, and lifted her chin. Val glanced at her, a narrowed gaze, as if she could hear Aurora’s thoughts.

“Sentry,” Lena said demurely as she bowed back to the god, and Aurora dropped a curtsy of her own.

“Lovely as ever,” Heimdallr added. “How is the world tonight?” he asked with a certain wistfulness. Aurora thought the sentry must be lonely, always on watch all by himself.

“Lovely as ever.” Lena smiled at him, and for a moment Aurora saw longing in the look that he returned her sister.

He wants her, Aurora thought, startled. Does Lena know?

But there was no time to think of that now. Heimdallr ushered them into the portal of the guardhouse. The sisters stepped through the arch of the guardhouse door—and into brilliant sunlight, so dazzling after the dark night of the other side that they all had to pause to get their bearings.

And then they looked out into the Wyrd.

Aurora often watched the young humans who came to the fairs and festivals in the park across from where Luke lived. When she saw them dancing on the grass with their psychedelic clothes and beatific smiles, the Wyrd was always what she thought of. Everything was alive and lit from within with a fairy-tale radiance.

The sisters now stood in a field of springlike beauty, with a ribbon of river running through it, silver and singing. Ygddrasil, the world tree, towered above them, a gigantic ash, white trunk smooth and stately, its branches open to touch the entire universe, all nine realms.

Aurora gazed out in wonder. Everything existed here, there and nowhere—all present, all eternal. She felt exhilaration and peace all at once.

Someone spoke her name. Aurora came back to herself and looked at Lena. “They’re waiting,” her older sister said, and the three sisters moved across the shining field.

Slightly beyond it, glowing like a jewel, there was a round building made from the purest moonstone, as befitted its name: the Hall of the Moon. Ahead, the doors of the hall swung slowly open, commanding entry.

The sisters moved through the great shining doors. Inside, the hall was liquid with mirrors, which glimmered with ever-changing reflections. Aurora’s heart beat faster as the cool radiance of the hall surrounded them.

As she followed her sisters she glanced around, glimpsing all the days of her existence in the silvery windows around her. She saw Luke there, as a child, as a teenager, as a college student, as a man, every episode of his life... And she saw herself, as a child, as a teenager, as a woman, always there, always watching him longingly.

She became aware of Val staring daggers at her, and Lena took her arm, gently steering her forward.

The three Eternals were seated on silver thrones in the center of the hall, around a giant silver loom, where every day they wove the Web of Fate.

Aurora felt fear and calm equally in their presence; they were beautiful and terrifying, as old and as powerful, as the tree Ygddrasil itself. Urd, Verdandi and Skuld: That Which Was, That Which Is and That Which Will Be. Urd, with her spindle to spin the threads of life; Verdandi, who wove the cloth on the loom; and Skuld, hovering silently with her scissors to cut the threads at the end of mortal life. Urd was all in white, promising endless possibility, Verdandi in red, reflecting the heat of life, and Skuld was all in black, signifying the end of life, and always veiled, so none could know her secrets.

Now Urd looked up from her spindle and glanced toward the younger Norns, raised a hand, summoning them. “Come, daughters.”

Aurora swallowed and followed her sisters forward across the mosaic floor. They stopped before the semicircle of thrones and bowed to the Eternals; Urd nodded acceptance of the homage and then spread her hands, a question and a reproof.

“Come and see,” she said, and passed a hand over the tapestry on the loom. The sisters moved forward slowly, and looked down at the shimmering, multicolored weave.

The fabric seemed alive, constantly changing. Aurora could see forests, cities, families, lovers—a carousel of images of the world, past, present and future. She was captivated.

And then Skuld raised a black-gloved hand and silently pointed.

There, in the middle of the tapestry, a golden thread was broken and twisted, a glaring flaw in the perfection of the weave.

Aurora stared down in confusion and dismay. It looked like an ugly rip in the fabric of life itself.

She looked up—and saw that all three of the Eternals were regarding her silently. With a jolt, Aurora realized what she was seeing.

“I did that?” she whispered.

Verdandi sighed. “The web is closely woven. One man’s fate cannot simply stop without all others being affected.”

As they watched, another thread popped, creating another hole in the delicate tapestry.

Val shot Aurora a look of triumph, then stepped forward with a deference that Aurora knew to be absolutely false humility. “Your Highnesses, if I may speak...”

Urd motioned to her, and Val barreled forward. “At his birth, I claimed the mortal Luke Mars for Odin. He has been a warrior all his life, in every aspect of his life. He was to have died gloriously in battle—last night, by earth’s time. Now while Odin awaits his service in Valhalla, the mortal’s whole life has stopped, which is affecting the Weave of Life.”

The Eternals turned their eyes toward Aurora and she faltered under the power of that triple gaze. But she thought of Luke, of his passion and fire, and she lifted her head and said nothing.

Urd, the Norn of the Past, touched her fingers lightly to the tapestry in several places as she looked deeply into it.

“Child, you have overstepped your bounds with this mortal before,” she said.

Aurora dropped her eyes. “I only tried to help...when he was in trouble...”

“She has interfered over and over and over again,” Val argued indignantly.

Aurora felt she was dying inside. I won’t let her take him, she thought in anguish. He has so much to live for.

She had to make the Eternals see. But how?

In desperation she stepped forward. “Are not mortals allowed to choose their own fate?” she asked, and her voice seemed breathless, but steady.

The Eternals glanced at one another. It was Verdandi who spoke. “Not only allowed, it is always to be so. If a mortal dares, all of the universe must support that choice.”

Aurora lifted her head, straightened her shoulders. “Then I ask that Luke Mars be allowed to choose his fate.”

Val practically exploded beside her. “He’s a man. You don’t even know that he wants to choose his fate...” Lena nudged her and Val fell silent.

Urd frowned, and the Eternals looked around at one another again. The three elegant giantesses leaned forward on their thrones to confer.

Aurora waited in suspended agony. They must let him live, they must...

Finally Verdandi stood and moved forward. Waves of radiance and power flowed from her.

“Mortals must be able to choose their own destinies, if they so dare.” Her luminous eyes looked straight down into Aurora’s, and Aurora felt her breath suspend. “We give you one day, daughter.”

Aurora’s heart lifted, then Verdandi said sternly, “You must unstop Time for him.”

Aurora bowed her head. “I will, Highness.”

“And then you have a day. One earth day, from dawn till dawn. The mortal Luke Mars may choose his own destiny—if he desires. He will make his decision, and all of the cosmos, including you, will abide by it.”

“Yes, Verdandi,” Aurora managed.

“Yes, Verdandi,” Lena murmured, and elbowed Val so that she muttered, “Yes, Verdandi.”

“Go now,” Verdandi said. “Fortune be with you.” And she sat, taking up the spindle once more, and the three Eternal sisters wove their cloth.

Lena put gentle but inexorable hands on Aurora’s and Val’s backs, keeping them safely apart, one on each side of her, as they walked through the hall with their own constantly shifting reflections stretching to infinity around them.

The three sisters stepped out into the sunlight, into the cool and live air beneath the massive tree. The peace of its great presence surrounded them; a soft breeze played with their hair. For a moment none of them could speak.

“It could have been worse,” Lena said finally.

“It’s so unfair,” Val seethed. “Stopping Time. It’s cheating and you both know it. And you saw what she did to the Tapestry.”

“It’s not up to us to decide,” Lena started, trying as usual to unruffle her. But Val was having none of it.

“You always take her side,” she raged. Which was totally wrong, Aurora thought. Lena was more fair than anyone in the Nine Realms, and Val knew it. But before she could say anything, Val turned on her.

“It’s never going to work, anyway. What can you do in a day?” The thought seemed to relax her and she smiled, that smug, entitled smile that had always infuriated Aurora. “He’s mine and he always has been. He’s a warrior—he’ll choose to fight. I’ll see you at dawn.”

Val tossed back her gleaming black hair and flounced off, back toward the guardhouse and the bridge.

Lena watched her, her face troubled. Then she sighed and turned to Aurora, with her soft dress rippling in the wind. “I really do think...”

Aurora shook her head. “Oh, please, Lena, don’t lecture me. I couldn’t let Val take him. Why should he have to fight and die so young? I know it’s not right for him.”

“You mean, she’s not right for him?” Lena suggested gently. Aurora didn’t have to speak; her scarlet cheeks were all her sister needed for confirmation. “And you are? Aurora, he’s a mortal.”

“That never stopped half the gods,” Aurora retorted.

“Aurora,” Lena chided.

“You know it’s true,” Aurora muttered.

“It is true,” Lena admitted, fair as always. “But that kind of thing generally doesn’t end happily. For anyone,” she added with a slight emphasis. “Does he even know what you are?”

Aurora squirmed. “I tried to tell him,” she said, but her voice didn’t sound convincing even to herself.

“Well, what do you think is going to happen when...” Lena stopped herself. “No, never mind that now. Just tell me what I can do.”

That was Lena; no matter what, her sister was always supportive. Aurora felt a rush of love for her.

Her sister knew the intricacies of the past, and the past was where Aurora needed to go.

She looked out at two swans gliding on the pond, nuzzling each other with long necks. So happy, so peaceful...mated for eternity.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said hopefully. “There is something you can do. I think if I can take Luke back to where it all started to go wrong—I mean, where he started on this path—I think he’ll be able to choose with a clear head.”

“And when was that?” Lena looked suspicious.

“High school,” Aurora admitted.

“Oh, Aurora...” Now Lena’s face was troubled, and Aurora knew that Lena had not forgotten what had happened.

“I know,” Aurora said defensively. “But I’m older now.”

Not that she was much older; the difference between sixteen and twenty-eight didn’t mean much in terms of infinity, but she had been living as a high school girl at the time and it had always amazed Aurora how quickly you could get wrapped up in the emotions of the age you were portraying.

“But it nearly destroyed you,” Lena said gently.

“It will be different this time,” Aurora insisted. “And that’s when it happened, so that’s when it has to be.”

Lena looked across the emerald grass of the field toward the guardhouse, where Val had disappeared in a huff. “You know that...”

“She’ll be there, yes, I know. Lena, I have to.” She looked at her older sister with wide, appealing eyes. “I don’t want him to die.”

Lena sighed. “Remember, it’s his choice.”

“I’ll remember,” Aurora promised.

“Then come,” Lena said, and held out her hand, and they stepped into the wind.