Soon, everyone would see which fate awaited Thori Odinsson. Whether a prince to a lineage of gods or a mere mortal, the Norns favored no one.
Raising the stick high above her head, the High Priestess painted Thori’s birth runes into the air, now huge and bold, glowing gold for everyone to see.
Sowilo.The sun. Light and lightning.
Tiwaz.Victory. Leadership. Courage.
Thurisaz.Defense. Protection. Raw power.
Odin beamed with pride, raising his spearGungnirin salute as the gathered nobles cheered. But Frigga’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“The child’s fate is sealed,” the High Priestess declared, looking down at the infant. “The Norns have woven his destiny into the fabric of the worlds.”
She trailed off, her body going rigid. The stick in her hand began to tremble, and her breathing grew ragged. The crowd murmured in confusion. Was this still part of the ritual?
“Skuld!” she gasped the name of the Norn of the Future. “Master! Master of wave and wind… Destiny!”
A chill ran down Njord’s spine. Master of wave and wind? Was she talking about him, or about another deity of the sea? There were a handful of them after all. Or was she talking about something else entirely?
“What’s going on?” Odin demanded, stepping forward, his spear clenched tight in his fist.
The priestess’ head was tilted back at a painful-looking angle, her body swaying as if caught in a storm only she could feel. “Destiny…can’t be escaped…”
Collapsing onto her knees, the priestess drew in gasping breaths. She shook her head as if clearing it, then quickly tried to compose herself.
“Forgive me, Lord Odin,” she mumbled, her voice not quite controlled; she sounded slurred, almost distorted. “Sometimes the visions come unbidden. But this one only reinforced what the runes already told me, and isn’t that a powerful sign? Thori Odinsson is destined for greatness. A master of gods and men!”
Njord scowled. What kind of nonsense was the priestess spouting? Master of gods and men? That wasn’t what she said.
But Odin seemed mollified by her words, the proud bastard. Frigga, however, studied the woman with new intensity.
“The ceremony is complete,” the High Priestess announced. “The fate of Thori Odinsson is blessed under Yggdrasil. Let us celebrate!”
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Njord remained silent, his hand clutching theNauthizrune in his pouch.
The strange priestess stepped out of the well, and just for a moment when everyone was turning away from her to congratulate Odin and Frigga, her posture sagged. She seemed drained like an old woman. Taking an involuntary step forward, Njord was dying to know what was going on. There was aripple,like looking down through moving water, and then, as if her weakness had never been there, the priestess’ shoulders squared with new resolve. Her gaze snapped up as if she’d sensed that Njord was staring at her, her eyes shining, cold and calculating.
Who was she? Thorbjörg, maybe? Katla or Hulda?
All of them were powerful priestesses of Asgard, but ceremonial garb or not, Njord would recognize them.
He held the priestess’ gaze for a few tense moments, an unspoken battle raging between them. She turned away first, leaving to exchange pleasantries with Odin and Frigga.
The encounter left a bad taste in Njord’s mouth. He felt like Odin’s High Priestess had set dangerous events in motion tonight. And the rune of need and hardship that burned against his palm seemed like proof that the real prophecy she’d received was far different from the glorious future she had proclaimed for Thori Odinsson.
In the shadows beneath Yggdrasil, as drunk gods and giants caroused around the Well of Fate, little Thori finally slept in the arms of his mother, unaware that his destiny had become a twisted and uncertain affair.
Njord turned away into the night. TheNauthizrune seemed to pulse with prophetic heat in his palm.
Need.
Hardship.
Fate.
Had theNornirintertwined the threads of their fate, his and little Odinsson’s? Njord couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling that this might be the case.
