On top of a rocky, barren hill, Odin rested his enchanted spear against a shady oak tree. With only one good eye, he scanned the scenic beauty of Scotland's rugged countryside. Placing his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath and relaxed the tense muscles in his shoulders. Every time he visited the planes of earth he experienced the ache of an old mortal man, as if he was not the father of all Gods, but a mere human with weaknesses and simple joys. Perhaps that was why he loved coming down to earth. Why he loved these people so much.
Many of the Gods refuse to visit earth because they have to lower their vibrations to enter the human realm. It made them sluggish. Even moving through the air was difficult. In the spiritual world of Asgard, their ethereal bodies of light transfer through time and space within a moment of thought.
However, the earth's physical realm did not bother him. It was worth lethargy to have the sun shine on his face and the wind caress his weathered skin. There was no wind, or even air in Asgard. No smells of any kind. No aroma of a roasting pig with herbs and potatoes. Nor the unique scent of a woman when she was aroused.
Yes, earth had many advantages.
A raven's cry pierced the crisp autumn air. Odin pushed the blue cloak hood from his head and lifted his hand. Two black ravens landed on his outstretched arm, their claws clinging to the soft material of his garment.
"Greetings Huginn and Muninn, what news do you have of battles?"
Huginn, the larger raven with a scar across his beak, spoke in a high-pitched voice, "The Vikings move through the lowlands."
"We predict a grand battle with the Anglo-Saxons within two days," Muninn advised in a similar squeaky tone, his eyes shining like silver coins.
A familiar sense of elation swirled within Odin's chest at the thought of the coming battle. "Huginn, summon the Valkyries to make ready. I foresee many slain warriors on the field, their souls awaiting transportation to Valhalla."
The large raven spread its wings and flew with grace into the wind. A yellow light glowed around the bird before it vanished from the earth's plane.
"Do you sense that, Muninn?"
The raven sidestepped up Odin's arm to perch on his shoulder. He lifted his beak to the breeze then ruffled his feathers. "Oh no, Freya is coming."
Odin pointed to the west. "See how the very atmosphere shimmers, as if Mother Nature herself disapproves of my wife's visit."
"Perchance, we can leave before she arrives."
Odin chuckled. "No, my friend. I sense it would be wise to stay and hear what she has to say."
Muninn shifted closer to Odin's neck, using his long gray hair for coverage.
Freya appeared in her youthful beauty with golden curly hair and white robes made of feathers, her breasts plump and ripe in the revealing sapphire gown. To any human, she would seem the portrait of serenity.
Odin knew her better.
"Greetings, Freya."
The Goddess bowed her head. "Greetings, husband."
He ran his hand down his long beard, waiting for her to speak.
"Do you know why I am here?" she asked, her jade eyes flashing with fury.
Odin sighed. "Just tell me what you want, Freya."
She bristled under his stare. "Our daughters have been up to mischief again."
"Which ones?"
"Which ones? You know very well which ones. Mist, Jola and Kara-three cunning Goddesses from the moment they were born. If you asked which one made trouble, all three would confess. One of them is rarely seen without the other two. It is not right how they spend so much time together."
"What did they do this time?"
Freya paced back and forth. "They have been shirking their duties as Valkyries. I commanded them to retrieve the souls of fallen warriors on the last battle field and return them to Valhalla."
"And did they?"
She abruptly stopped her march. "Instead of bringing back the three warriors I chose, they brought back three swines!" Freya waved her fist in the air. "What need have I of hogs?"
From beneath his hair, Muninn cackled uncontrollably, his beak peeking out.
Freya stepped forward, her lips tight with menace. The raven stopped laughing and edged closer to Odin's neck.
Taking a deep breath, Odin raised his hand.
Freya turned away with annoyance.
"I will talk to our daughters," he offered.
"And tell them to stop seducing the magical dwarves and find a decent mate. I would like a grandchild.in this century."
"As you wish, my love."
The tense lines on her face relaxed, and she gave him a weak smile. "Thank you."
With the flurry of thick robes, she vanished in a swirl of gold and white.
Muninn shuffled out from under his hair and expanded a wing. "What will you do?"
Odin's skin itched beneath his beard. He retrieved his spear from the tree and straightened his back. "I must maintain the order of Valhalla."
He scratched his cheek.
"Are you going to punish them?" Muninn asked.
A sickening twinge rumbled in his stomach; his chest tightened. He loved his wayward daughters, but he could not allow disobedience. It would only encourage the other Valkyries.
"Summon Kara, Mist and Jola to my hall in Valaskjalf."
Muninn cackled. "You know how they hate the palace built of silver."
Odin grinned. "That is why I want them there."
"As you command, Allfather." Muninn flew from Odin's shoulder and disappeared in the same glow of yellow as Huginn.
Odin looked around one more time and filled his lungs with one last breath of fresh air. Within a thought, he was sitting on his high throne in Valaskjalf. Silver walls extended as far as the eye could see, with hundreds of closed green doors on either side.
Resting his elbow on the chair, he gathered his beard and twirled it around his fingers. He would have to teach his spoiled daughters a lesson.
But how?
Three doors opened, and Odin straightened.
Appearing in the first doorway, Mist stood in a shimmering red gown that made her green eyes sparkle. It also accentuated her shapely form-her large breasts and hips had attracted many warriors over the years. His daughter was graceful, her feet barely touching the floor as she glided into the chamber. Mist flicked her snow-white hair over her shoulder and stood, her posture deceptively demure.
The soft, gentle look of her was only a façade. If things went wrong today her temper would surface, and she would burst into flames. When it came to his oldest daughter, tact was his only weapon.
A little younger, Kara entered through the next door. A pale violet gown clung to her curves like a second skin. Known as the swan maiden, she held herself with elegance and poise. As if the sun had kissed her tresses, Kara's flaming crimson hair cascaded to her hips. In stark contrast, her smooth pale skin and upturned nose gave her face a delicate appeal, the same as her mother. Indeed, his daughter had the majestic bearing and superior ego of a Goddess.
Then his youngest, the headstrong and impulsive Jola, walked into the hall. Pulled back with tiny white roses, her midnight locks framed a soft, oval face while her pink lips complimented the liquid pools of her sea-colored eyes.
Without a hint of guilt or remorse, all three of his beautiful daughters stood before him in a row. Their unique powers were extreme, their talent for mischief legendary. Each of them shared an undying loyalty for the other.
Odin pursed his lips and tilted his head. Perchance, that sisterly devotion was something he could use against them. He stood, rising to his full height.
"Your mother says you have been derelict in your duties," his voice boomed throughout the chamber, cutting the strained silence.
Mist's eyes flickered with anger. He could almost see her mind working on a vengeful plan to repay her mother's disloyalty.
Odin shifted his gaze to Kara. Her emerald eyes boldly challenged his, as if she had a right to do as she pleased.
Jola turned her face, unable to look at him.
"Have you nothing to say?" he asked.
Kara stepped forward. "Father, surely you have a sufficient number of dead Vikings for your armies. Why must we still search the earth's smelly battlefields for these barbaric men?"
"I agree," Mist said. "We already have enough warriors demanding mead and women in Valhalla."
Kara shivered. "And to think, we must serve these Einherjar, these lesser men. We are Goddesses. They should serve us."
"As sex slaves," said Jola and giggled with Kara.
"Jola," Odin growled.
His youngest caught his disapproving stare and covered her mouth.
Mist walked behind Jola and placed an arm around her shoulders. "The position we are trying to make, Father, is humans are greedy, savage and they stink."
Kara added. "Yes, and we will not serve them any longer."
Anger welled in Odin's throat but he quelled the emotion. His daughters were not simple youths he could bend to his will through fear. No, he needed cunning to teach them a valuable lesson about humanity.
"Do you all feel this way?" he looked into each set of eyes until he stared at Jola.
She shifted her gaze to her sisters and then gave a curt nod.
"Perhaps I am in need of more wisdom," he softly responded and collapsed in his oversized chair. "To truly see what fate has in store for you."
"Father, no," Kara pleaded.
Odin pounded his spear on the marble floor. "I summon the severed head of wise Mimir."
His daughters stepped back, trepidation etched on their faces. Odin coughed, suppressing a chuckle with his hand.
They never liked Mimir's grotesque head. The blood that oozed from his severed neck had a tendency to drip on their pretty gowns.
Appearing from a blue-green mist, an elderly man's head floated in the air. Wild grey hair sprouted from Mimir's burnt scalp while his hooked nose was coarse with warts and his skin marked with scars. Mimir floated forward, a lopsided smile on his cracked lips.
Jola jumped out of the way, sidestepping a drop of blood before it splattered on her head. "You did that on purpose," she accused.
"So sorry, little one," Mimir called down, his glowing black eyes rolling with sarcasm.
Odin winked at his old friend. "I am in need of your foresight, wise one. I wish to see the future of my daughters."
Mimir shut his obsidian eyes. When they opened, they appeared as a looking glass into the future.
His daughters edged closer, but Odin waved them away. "Stay where you are."
Images flittered by in fast procession, his daughters' destiny revealed within moments. When Mimir finally closed his eyes again, Odin could not contain his laughter. The sound echoed through the chamber. The future was too extraordinary to express. He looked at his anxious daughters. He did so love to torture them.
"What did you glimpse?" Kara asked.
A wicked idea piqued his dark sense of justice.
With a wave of his hand, he produced a bronze box with Celtic symbols. "Come closer, my daughters."
"You are giving us a gift?" Mist asked with suspicious eyes.
He forced a loving smile. "Yes."
Opening the lid, he pulled out three necklaces. One by one, he placed around their necks, a silver amulet with his personal symbol of valknut-a warriors knot of three interlaced triangles.
"They are lovely, Father," Jola whispered, staring at the amulet in her hand.
"Why are you giving these to us?" Kara asked, her fingers caressing the raised triangles.
Odin mumbled an enchantment beneath his breath and waved his hand over his daughters. The amulets shined with white light, and then disappeared.
"Where did they go?" Mist searched the floor.
"Mist, you have lost more than an amulet, you have lost your compassion. Kara, you have lost selflessness. And my darling, Jola, you have lost your purity." He crossed his arms. "So I am giving you a chance to prove to me that you deserve your immortality-by learning a lesson in humanity."
They talked at once.
" Silence! " He stared at each one. "The amulets have been sent across time on earth. Each of you will travel to the era of where your necklace fell. The first mortal who finds the amulet will be your master. You will serve him well until he bestows the amulet upon you. However, if that man does not freely give back the amulet, you will remain stuck in that time period for the rest of your life, never to see your sisters again."
"No," Kara and Jola cried.
"You cannot do this, Father!" Mist shouted.
Odin smiled. "Hug your sisters. You will not see them for some time."
Kara was about to protest, but he raised his hand. "It has been settled. I also warn you not to dally on earth. I want those amulets returned by the winter solstice or I will personally strip your powers and immortality. You will understand what it is like to live as a human."
His daughters' cries tugged on his heart, but he had to remain strong. It was for their own good. They huddled together; each with sorrow and dread on their faces.
Hardening his resolve, he waved his hand in an arc, sending the Goddesses across time and space.
He turned to Mimir, and a wave of apprehension swept through him. "Let us hope the prophecy is right." |
