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Classic-Fiction

Hexed_ The Iron Druid Chronicles - Kevin Hearne [122]

By Root 777 0

ordinary mortal climbing the root, so I had to tell a stretcher and hope he bought it. I am an envoy sent from Nidavellir, realm of the dwarfs, I explained. I am not flesh and blood but rather a new construct. Thus my flame-red hair and the putrid stench that surrounds me. I had no idea what I smelled like to him, but since I was decked out in new leathers, with their concomitant tanning odors, I figured I smelled like a few dead cows, at least, and it was best from a personal safety perspective to frame my scent and person in terms of something inedible. The Norse dwarfs were famous for making magical constructs that walked around looking like normal critters, but often these creatures had special abilities. They’d made a boar once for the god Freyr, one that could walk on water and ride the wind, and it had a golden mane around its head that shone brightly in the night. They called it Gullinbursti, which meant “golden mane.” Go figure.

My name is Eldhár, crafted by Eikinskjaldi son of Yngvi son of Fjalar, I told him. The three dwarf names were mined straight from the Poetic Edda. Tolkien found the names of all his “dwarves” in the same source, in addition to Gandalf’s, so I saw no reason why I couldn’t appropriate a few of them for my own use. Eldhár, the name I’d given for myself, meant nothing more than “Fire Hair”; I figured since I was pretending to be a construct, it would be consistent with names like Gullinbursti. I am on my way to Valhalla at the Dwarf King’s request to speak to Odin Allfather, One-Eyed Wanderer, Gray Runecrafter, Sleipnir Rider, and Gungnir Wielder. It is a matter of great importance regarding danger to the Norns.

Ratatosk was so alarmed by this that he actually became still for a half second.

The same. Will you aid me in my journey and thus speed this most vital embassy, so that the World Tree may be spared any neglect? The Norns were responsible for watering the tree from the well, a sort of constant battle against rot and age.

Ratatosk said. He switched directions again and shimmied backward, courteously extending his back leg to me and carefully holding his bushy tail out of the way.

It took me longer than I might have wished, but eventually I clambered up his back, bound myself tightly to his red fur, and pronounced myself ready to ride.

Ratatosk said simply, and we shot up the trunk with a violent gait so awkward that I think I might have bruised my spleen.

Still, I could not complain. Ratatosk was even more than I had imagined: In addition to being extraordinarily large and speedy, he was perfectly gullible and willing to help strangers, so long as they spoke Old Norse. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to kill him after all.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Pronunciation Guide

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Excerpt from Hammered