Page 79 of The Magic of Vanaheim

Weaving anotherseiðr, Talvi conjured avegvísirabove his palm. Perhonen had taught him the spell; it should bring them home safely. But the magical compass trembled and started to spin around itself uncontrollably. Norns, he’d never seen anything like this. Thevegvísirwas designed to show even the pathways between the worlds, after all, created to allow safe passage along paths unknown.

Tightening his grip around Håkon’s waist, Talvi gritted his teeth. Håkon’s pale skin had an unhealthy, wan tone. He was weak and shivering despite Talvi’s cloak wrapped around him and the body heat they shared. They had to get back to Saeborg; Håkon needed a healer.

No, Talvi wouldn’t lose himself on the spiraling pathways alongYggdrasil’sbranches. Gathering hisseiðr, he reached out into the darkness. There had to be something familiar out there, something that could guide them. Thevegvísirrotated faster, and Talvi held on to hisseiðrwith everything he had.

At the edge of his consciousness, he felt something reaching back for him. He knew that presence. Wild and powerful. The white bear.

“You may call me Isbani.”

Farandi pranced nervously as the polar bear appeared in front of them on the snowy path, and Talvi marveled at its beauty.

“Icebane,” he greeted Håkon’s spirit. “It suits you.”

The bear grimaced as if he was impatient with Talvi. It was as large a beast as Talvi had ever seen, his muzzle reddened with blood and his eyes gleaming a vivid blue like glacier ice.

“The vala escaped because you called me here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The vala with the sunny hair. The one that killed you.”The bear eyed him wearily.“You don’t look dead.”

“I’m not dead,” Talvi said indignantly.

Arching his long neck, Isbani tried to get a better look at Håkon.

“She killed you and tried to eat his broken heart,”the bear said as accusingly as a wild beast could ever hope to sound.“You let it happen.”

Talvi’s throat tightened. Was the bear right? The tear tracks on Håkon’s face. The crack in Talvi’s armor. Had Svanhild indeed killed him? Cold dread settled in Talvi’s gut. Håkon must’ve thought that he’d abandoned him, leaving him alone in the realm of the living. He must’ve been so desperate.

“But she can’t kill me,” Talvi argued weakly. “I’m aVanr. I’m a god of the old days.”

Isbani grinned, showing off his razor-sharp teeth.

“Snow god doesn’t die, but does she know that?”

Snow god? Talvi had never seen himself that way. He’d always been a skillfulvala,and as the son of two water goddesses, everyone had just assumed that he’d inherited their powers, that they’d manifest in time. But now Talvi could feel the strength of the icy wilderness thrumming under his fingertips; the power of glaciers, snowstorms, and mighty waterways turned to ice.It was only fitting he’d married a frost giant. Could this be his calling?

“I guess she doesn’t know about this…winter thing,” Talvi said. “But Håkon needs to rest. Can you show us the way back to Vanaheim?”

Growling, the bear turned.

“Follow me.”

They arrived at the fortress in the deepest winter. Talvi could sense the heavy snowfall surrounding him, following him. But it didn’t feel like he was crushing the harvest. No, it felt only right to blanket Vanaheim with snow, and the city was decorated as if the Yule festivities weren’t far away.

Norns, what was going on? How much time had passed while they were wandering around between the worlds?

Hiding them from view so they could slip into the citadel undetected, Talvi went right to his chambers. He wasn’t in the mind to explain himself to Arngrim or one of his guards. First, he had to look after Håkon, and then he would have to talk to Perhonen.

Nudging the door to the tactic room open with his hip, Talvi slipped inside, Håkon still cradled securely in his arms and the bear at his side. He headed straight for their bedchamber but stopped dead in his tracks as he found his chambers weren’t deserted.

Hunched over the enchanted model of the Nine Worlds stood Perhonen. Her robe was black and formal, her demeanor gloomy and sorrowful, and she was weaving a complicatedseiðr.

“Anything new?”

Wearing the armor of Saeborg’s guards, aJotunnwarrior was looking over her shoulder. Gudrun. Håkon’s sworn ally. She looked as worried as Perhonen.

“I don’t know.” Perhonen grimaced. “It feels like they’re so close. If I could just—”