With the Book of Yomidgard in hand, Scheherazade opened a portal to the only place where she could find help, now that the key to her Plan A, Nero, was dead.
But the landscape before her was very different from what she had expected. Before her astonished eyes lay a rugged, snowy, and narrow terrain. Gusts of icy air shook the trees, without quite managing to dislodge the snow from their leaves. The appearance of Asgard, the dimension of the High God Odin, had changed drastically since the last time Scheherazade had been there.
But in the distance, Odin's immense palace, Valaskjálf, was still visible. A city sprawled at its feet, with lights alight and smoke billowing from its chimneys. Even from afar, it was clear that Odin's Viking abode was far more technologically advanced than many other dimensions Scheherazade had visited, and even more so than many she had only read about in books. Wrapping her clothes around her body as best she could, she began walking toward Valaskjálf.
It took her an hour to get there. The snow blocked the path, but the fear of encountering wild wolves had given her the strength to continue. Finally, she reached the outer walls of the city at the foot of Valaskjálf. A huge, empty moat surrounded the city. Seen up close, it was at least ten times larger than Scheherazade had initially estimated. Not only was the palace a hundred times the size of an average-sized human, but the walls were also gigantic. That included the gate. A group of Asgardian soldiers, armed with spears from whose shafts an energy current surged, watched her from atop the wall. They made no move to stop her, and, since the gate was open, Scheherazade had no trouble entering.
Soaring through the sky, far above her, the Bifröst, a rainbow bridge connecting Asgard to other dimensions, glowed brightly, bathing the entire city in a riot of colors. A messenger of Odin galloped from the palace across the Bifröst, sending sparks of every color flying, before emerging from a portal that suddenly appeared before the beast.
The city resembled a traditional Viking village, but its buildings were reinforced with metal frames, the thatched roofs were artificial, and instead of horsemen, soldiers rode metal steeds that hovered a meter above the ground. The climate inside the city, though snowy, was much warmer than outside.
But the sight of the city and the palace was eclipsed by a flying figure descending from the Bifröst, heading straight for Scheherazade. She was a woman, a valkyrie, with white wings, smooth skin and hair waving in the wind, gathered in thick braids, crowned with a tiara with angel wings.
—Thank the gods: Brunhild! —Scheherazade shouted, gesturing toward the valkyrie.
Brunhild descended, gliding softly, her blue cloak fluttering in the wind. A divine halo floated just behind her head, mimicking the sun. She carried a drawn sword made of light and shadows, its hilt forming a compass rose. Brunhild’s divine magic caused red rose petals to appear around her, settling on the snow like blood spattered here and there.
—Scheherazade! Praise be to Odin! How long has it been? —Brunhild said, sheathing the sword at her hip and opening her arms, offering a warm embrace.
—You’re… different. Is that new armor? —Scheherazade said, intrigued.
—It’s the same one I’ve always had. Don’t joke—things around here are already bad enough without having to endure sarcasm from our guests —Brunhild replied.
But she was different. She was different. Scheherazade understood it then: the Brunhild she had known was not this one, but the one from the original timeline, the one Scheherazade herself came from. Yet in this timeline, the paradoxical one, Brunhild and Scheherazade had also met, who knew under what circumstances, but, fortunately, they still seemed to be friends.
—I need your help, my friend —Scheherazade ventured.
Brunhild nodded.
—Let’s walk through the city, and while we do, you can tell me —Brunhild said.
They spent an hour walking along the city’s cobblestone paths, roads not designed for vehicles, regardless of whether they were gravitational or not. Scheherazade brought Brunhild up to date on everything that had happened, on Gill Lapis’s plans of conquest, and on the danger all dimensions faced if the High Gods did nothing.
But when she finished, Brunhild merely shrugged, her expression resigned.
—The dimensions of the High Gods have always been at war; it was the will of the creators, to deny us the enjoyment of peace —Brunhild said. She raised a hand before Scheherazade could interrupt and continued speaking—. But that will… ceases to be infallible when the High Gods themselves vanish without warning. For longer than I can count, I have been watching, guarding, and obeying Odin’s final command: that Ragnarok must not return. But the Allfather is gone. In the absence of the Allfather, I answered the prayers of the faithful. Me, alone! And because of that, spirits have not yet fallen, but the people are not at their best. We are prepared to take up arms, but we will not do so without good reason.
—Gill Lapis is more than enough reason to do so, my friend —Scheherazade said, terrified that her plan B might also fail.
—Not for us. Our dimensions are still protected by the seals placed by the High Gods, and with the Bifröst we can reposition our troops at any time and to any place —Brunhild said.
—The seals can be broken! Look at what happened in Yomidgard, the dimension of the High God Satan! —Scheherazade exclaimed.
But Brunhild shook her head. The valkyrie placed a hand over her chest, closed her eyes, and began to glow. Suddenly, she opened them again, her smile renewed.
—The magic of the High Gods’ seals is strong. Heimdall! Show us, at random, some of the ten seals! —Brunhild said.
Both of their eyes turned golden for a second. Images of different places appeared projected directly into their minds. A statue of the goddess Shiva in a field, surrounded by bonfires. A heart-shaped figure of ice inside a cave crystallized from within. A wretched man, with a white eye and gray, purulent skin, holding a golden staff topped with a skull.
But the one that surprised Scheherazade the most was a magical glyph of light, drawn on the ground in a field. Sitting beside it was a woman with her eyes blindfolded, three pairs of wings, and a half-eaten apple. She was reading a white book, on whose cover words were engraved that completely confused Scheherazade. The woman turned her face toward them, smiled shyly, and snapped her
fingers, distractely.
The link was severed.
—But… but that’s impossible —Scheherazade said.
—You saw it yourself. “Chronicles of Yomidgard.” That was written on the book’s cover. That woman is a High God, and her seal protects the dimension of Yomidgard —Brunhild said.
—A goddess… of course! The Goddess Velmar! But… why don’t that book or that seal appear in the Book of Yomidgard? —Scheherazade said, pointing at her own book.
—Have you never read two novels set in the same place? —Brunhild replied.
Two books. Yomidgard had two books, being written at the same time. Thinking about it coldly, it made sense: if the Goddess Velmar truly existed and had protected Yomidgard after Satan’s disappearance, it was logical that her book would tell the story of that dimension’s heroes, and not the one held by the library, which was still updating itself after suffering the paradox.
—But that would mean… —Scheherazade said.
—That perhaps Nero is alive —Brunhild said—. If there are two books, his name may have vanished from yours, the obsolete one, and his story might continue in the hands of the Goddess Velmar herself.
—It’s possible. It’s possible —Scheherazade said.
After so much walking, they entered a garden plaza. At its center stood a statue representing Odin’s two wolves: Geri and Freki. The square was filled with Asgardian soldiers and valkyries, who watched girls and boys run and play, amused, unafraid.
—Look at my people, Scheherazade. I will not raise arms against a villain who poses no threat. I would do so if the Allfather gave the order, but although I would do anything for you, my friend, but… but not this. Do not ask me to risk our peace for a war that does not concern this dimension —Brunhild said.
—I understand. But… —Scheherazade looked at the children running about. Their faces did not know war. The valkyries did not frighten them; instead, they laughed, running between their legs. The soldiers were a little tense in Brunhild’s presence, but they also seemed at ease.
Happy.
Safe.
—Do you understand, my friend? —Brunhild said—. Don’t forget who you are or where you come from, so you can understand where you’re going and who you want to be. I tell myself that every morning, to find strength. I am not, nor will I ever be, the Allfather, but I can be Brunhild, radiant dawnblade. I can protect the people I love.
But she knew that was not true. The moment Gill Lapis could set foot in any High God dimension, he would turn it upside down and then conquer it, making its people forget that they were now captives.
—Isn’t there anything I can say to convince you, Brunhild? —Scheherazade said, turning her back to the statue of the wolves.
—I’m afraid not. I… —Brunhild slowly raised her head, then lowered it again, her mouth wide open. Scheherazade turned to see what was astonishing the valkyrie.
Behind her, Geri and Freki had come to life. The scars and markings on one of them glowed blood red, as did its eyes. The she-wolf shimmered with a faint blue aura, her eyes matching it.
Brunhild knelt. The two wolves approached her and howled in unison. Then they ran in circles around Scheherazade, finally stopping at her side and nodding.
Brunhild spoke, and as she did, she drew her sword and raised it to the sky.
—Geri and Freki are bearers of a message from the Allfather: sisters, we, the Valkyries of Asgard, must rise in arms once more —she said, almost shouting.
The entire park erupted in cheers, and the wolves howled again. Scheherazade stepped closer to Brunhild, incredulous.
—I told you: if Odin gave the order, we would go to war. Never have Geri and Freki appeared before me without the Allfather, so this is clearly a declaration of my lord’s intent. We’ll join your fight, Scheherazade.
THIS STORY WILL CONTINUE IN THE NEXT COLLECTION OF THE EVIL CLUSTER
