My tongue didn't want to work right. "Old man . . ."

I coughed, and tried to swallow. I wiped sweat from my eyes with an arm that weighed more than a mountain." . . . Old man, you can't even kill me when you cheat. You're finished. Done. It's my turn, and my world's. Nothing you do will stop us. Nothing, do you hear me?"

I advanced on him. He gave ground at every step I took. I lifted the Biter and pointed it at him, stabbing the air to emphasize every syllable: "You . . . lost . . . your . . . bet!Now pay the hell up and get the hell out."

He didn't reply. He just roared and rushed me, spearpoint foremost. My muscles were sluggish; but the Biter came up, dragging my arm with it. The spear point threw sparks as it scraped along the length of the Biter's black blade. I stumbled to one side, off balance, and tried to get the tree trunk between us as the enraged god charged again.

The screams of the Einherjar shook the earth. The very air trembled. Odin came at me, and I evaded, again with the Biter's help. He came again. I foundered, fell, and rolled aside. Odin drove the great spear into the mud. I tripped him up with my feet and he fell heavily against the spear shaft.

A terrible splintering crack rent the air.

Gungnir split down the shaft, breaking off completely just above the heavy iron point. Odin looked almost ready to cry.

The Einherjar fell utterly silent.

Then Odin shrieked. He whipped his sword out of his scabbard, and swung like a madman. I dodged under the blow, and slashed across the hilt. The Biter sang in my hand. There was a moment's terrible shock. . . . Odin was left holding a hilt, and two inches of broken blade. He hurled the ruined weapon at my face, and leaped. Odin sought my throat with his bare hands. We rolled. I stabbed blindly with the Biter. I heard a grunt of pain, and stabbed with all my strength. Hot blood drenched my knuckles.

The Biter's hilt went slippery-then a grip of unbelievable strength fastened onto the Biter's tail. It lashed madly as Odin forced it slowly to uncurl from around my arm. The tail came completely loose and he wrenched it bodily away from me. I cursed, and got clear. Odin hurled my knife with all his might. I dropped to the ground. It whistled past my ear as I fell, and landed quivering, its point buried deeply in the trunk of the great oak tree.

Odin slammed into me. We rolled in the mud, unable to get a killing grip on one another. I squirted out of his grasp like a watermelon seed at a spitting contest. I scrabbled my way up a muddy slope.

Odin followed, grabbing at an ankle. I kicked backward and slammed my foot into his teeth. I felt several break off; then he let go and I sprawled forward into shadow. I squirmed forward on my belly.

Again he closed, wrestling me into the mud. We rolled in several directions at once, flailing about ineffectually, with arms and legs sticking out every conceivable direction. We fought for fatal grips, lost them, and squirmed for new ones.

He finally got his hands on my windpipe. I couldn't break his hold. He was twisting my head around, toward the snapping point. I jabbed my thumb into his good eye.

He screamed and let go. I wriggled free. Odin groped blindly for a weapon- I froze. His questing hand had found the hilt of a sword-a sword jammed into gaping jaws. He wrenched it free. I had time to roll aside, then the bloody point stabbed into the earth millimeters from my ear.

I slid backward, willing the Biter into my hand. A flare of frantic motion blazed in my peripheral vision, then the Biter slid firmly into my palm. The tail got a death grip of its own around my wrist. The Biter was literally buzzing with rage. I slashed blindly. The Biter met Odin's swordpoint and turned it.

The weapons grated against one another. Then sword and Biter strained sideways, smashing against a taut length of chain.

Both weapons rang and scraped noisily along it, drawing sparks without nicking the fetter. Fenrir was howling like all the demons of hell combined. His chain was caught on our weapons-and I stood between him and his prey.

As our locked blades slid down the length of chain, toward Fenrir's jaws, I yelled in a last-ditcheffort.

"Fenrir! This chain is made out of nothing! Nothing at all! It's a goddamned illusion! Break it!"

The Biter pulsed with baleful black light.

Then sliced through Gleipnir's magical links like a blowtorch through butter. Either that, or the whole chain just disintegrated into dust.

And Fenrir was suddenly free. The sword that had held his jaws open for centuries was now clutched in Odin's sweating grip. Odin was frozen in place. He was staring-horror-struck-at the Fenris Wolf.

I came around with a deadly slash. It laid Odin's throat wide. He reeled. Brought up his sword with a fumbling motion . . .

I slammed the Biter through his black heart.

"Die, damn you!"

I don't know what the Biter did, inside him. But he stumbled backward. Shock and pain turned his face grey. I fell off balance, pulled forward as he jerked himself free. He started to crumple. . . .

I was buffeted to my knees by a massive, grazing blow from behind. I heard a blood-gurgling scream through the spurting mess from Odin's jugular. A huge shadow fell across us. Odin's scream ended abruptly in a strangled whimper. Then something slammed into me again from above and rolled me aside. When I managed to lift my head, Odin's body lay strangely twisted on the muddy, bloody ground.

He had been bitten in half. His legs and hips were missing entirely. He was still alive.

I caught a glimpse of murderous light dying from his single red eye. It had fixed on me with a look I knew I would see in nightmares for the rest of my life.

Then Fenrir opened his great bloody jaws one more time. . . .

And the rest of Odin vanished forever.

The silence was so still, I could hear the individual breathing of tens of thousands of men above my own labored gasps.

Fenrir raised his muzzle to the bloody sky and howled once, a drawn-out victory cry that chilled the blood. Sleipnir thundered toward him. The stallion screamed, and reared; then unaccountably settled again, and pawed restlessly with two right front hooves.

Twenty paces away, Thor-his face ashen against his flaming hair-lifted Mjollnir. Mouth working, eyes blazing with homicidal rage, he hurled his massive war hammer. It flew at my head with all the speed of his immortal strength.

I moved blindly. The Biter whipped up. The shock against my arms lifted me off the ground and hurled me fifteen feet backward. Then I lay panting on my back, both arms completely numb. The shattered pieces of Mjollnir lay scattered in the mud all around me.

The Biter purred in my grasp. If it'd been a kitten, I'd have rubbed its ears.

No one else moved, and I remained where I'd landed.

I still was unable to take it in.

Mjollnir was broken.

Fenrir was free.

And Odin was dead.

Chapter Twenty.

I looked at the Biter, and wondered-somewhat stupidly-what I should do. I couldn't think of anything. Neither, evidently, could anyone else. The entire company stood frozen like a crowd of statues.

Then Fenrir moved. Toward me, the man who'd freed him. I raised the Biter halfheartedly, pleased that it still moved at my summons, even more pleased that myarm would move. I still couldn't feel it.Then, dumbfounded, I lowered the Biter again. The great wolf whined. He dropped his head to where I lay sprawled in the mud, and butted against my leg in the timeless gesture of canine submission.

Uh . . .

"Good, boy?" I croaked uncertainly.

An eager whine broke from the creature. He lifted his head. A blast of blood-foul breath choked me; then his tongue slathered across my face like a wet towel. Fenrir panted happily, and moved to my side. I managed to wipe off my face without gagging. The Fenris Wolf sat on his haunches and turned a snarling visage to the assembled company.

"He's mine, so don't try it," was the clear message.

Nobody seemed inclined to try anything; much less Fenrir's temper. . . .

Except Sleipnir, who tossed his head, and snorted. That murderous black fiend sidled and danced his way to my other side, flanking me, then bared his teeth at the nearest Einherjar.

Uh . . .

Unsteadily I rose to my feet. I almost fell. Instinctively I put my arms out, and found rough fur on one side, sleek muscle on the other. . . . I hung supported between them, with the Biter still in one hand.

The wolf stood every bit as tall and broad as the horse. Allies . . . brothers . . . who moments before had been bitterest enemies . . .

I took a deep breath and searched for Rangrid. Her eyes were dull with shock.

"You okay?"

She put the back of one hand to a bleeding lip, looked absently at the blood; then nodded, staring up at me.

"A little bruised. But, yes. I'm okay." That fact seemed to overwhelm her. "You. . . ?"

"Yeah."

We looked at one another across the churned battlefield; then I shook my head, and muttered, "Jesus Christ."

A familiar voice said, "Wrong churchand wrong pew."

I snapped around. Gary Vernon strolled out of the crowd, stopping well clear of my threatening companions. He'd thrust his hands into his pockets, and just stood there, a grin on his face fit to crack his jaw.

"Well, Barnes, you certainly know how to shake things up."

My guardians never had a chance to react. I was hugging Gary and pounding him on the back before Sleipnir could do more than snort. Both of us were laughing, and he was hugging and pounding me until I nearly fell. I had to wipe tears with the back of one arm.

"Goddamn, Vernon, goddammit, it's good to see you. You wouldn't believe what I've been through. . . . "

I babbled for a couple of minutes, and he let me; then I finally grasped his arm. "Let's getout of here."

Before he could say anything, a flare of brilliant light drew our attention. I squinted into the glare; then stiffened.

-Aw, shit . . .

Sleipnir screamed a shrill warning and reared to his haunches. Gary glanced sharply at my face; then peered at the new arrival. A stallion had appeared before the Valhall-a stallion wrapped in flame.

Fire defined its muscles, flickered from its mane and tail, and exploded from the prancing hooves in gouts of sparks. The glare was so fierce, I had to lift one arm to shield my eyes.

Skuld rode him like a seasoned pro. Her thighs clamped his sides. She controlled him easily as he reared high in answer to Sleipnir's challenge. Her hair whipped out behind her, each strand writhing like a living thing in the wind of the stallion's passage.

She brought the horse back to earth and held him firmly in check. The reins in her hand flickeredlike lightning. Skuld glanced around with a satisfied air . . . then turned her fiery gaze toward me.

I'd thought the heat of her gaze staggering before. . . .

Even Gary flinched.

One fiery brow rose slowly. I thought I saw the corner of her lips quirk. "Not bad. Not half bad."

Then she reached out a flaming hand. Her fingers closed around my wrist. Before I could even draw breath to scream, Skuld had pulled me astride her stallion. I heard Sleipnir's trumpeting neigh; then the bloody landscape of Valhalla was fading around us. As we transferred between worlds, I realized there was no pain, and wondered whether-if Iwere in the process of being burned to death-I'd notice.

We came out beside the shimmering spring Urd. Skuld slid gracefully to the ground. I jumped down with considerably less finesse, but a great deal more enthusiasm. I eyed her warily, and ascertained that I was, in fact, uncharred.

"I'm glad you survived," she said, by way of greeting.

Finding myself still alive and unincinerated seemed somehow to have caused difficulty with my breath control. I suspect I sounded more than a little petulant as I replied, "I'm glad you're glad-couldn't you have told me that back there?"

Her lips twitched and her eyes sparkled; but all she said was, "Yes; but not the rest of what I have to say. First, let me offer you a gift."

She lifted her hand. I heard a distant squawk; then two midnight-black ravens swooped down from the eaves of her golden hall. They alighted on my shoulders. I stood very still. Sharp little claws dug into my flesh as they found their balance.

"Hugin and Munin returned to me a few moments ago," Skuld explained. "I daresay you will find them useful."

I glanced cautiously from side to side. "Yeah, they'd be great for reconnaissance-better than spy satellites-but what does that have to do with me? I mean . . ." What the helldid I mean? What didshe mean, offering them to me? I studied her through narrowed eyes. I wasn't sure I liked the implications here.

"How do you know they'd even report to me?" I stalled.

I was frantically searching for a way to broach the more delicate questions in my mind. Somehow, I didn't feel quite like blurting out, "What are you up to now?" Instead, I managed to sound like a truant little boy. "I mean, I-um-sort of killed their former owner."

Her glance was as droll as her tone. "I sort of noticed." But her eyes sparkled with white-hot highlights.

Skuld had a sense of humor?

She smiled. "Hugin and Munin were raised by my hand. Odin begged the gift of them long ago, and I obliged."

I eyed her the way a bird eyes a hungry snake. "I don't have to give up my eye or something, do I?"

Her gaze left my clothes soaked with sweat under a crust of dried mud.

Despite what she was, her voice came out cold as a German blizzard. "I would have you know, Randy Barnes, my sisters and I gave up a great deal of power, on the barestchance someone like you might come along someday and win a duel with Odin. I'm not about to sabotage the man who managed to kill that dithering old fool."

Just what was that supposed to mean? Other than the obvious, which was that Skuld's opinion of the late, unlamented Odin Oath-Breaker seemed no higher than mine.

I wondered if accepting the birds would be something like signing a contract in blood. I'd just managed to wriggle out of my contract with Hel, by killing Odin; I didn't feel like striking any more deals with any more deities. But Skuld was waiting for me to dosomething .

I reached up a tentative hand. Hugin-or was it Munin?-let me stroke his glossy feathers. I glanced up at Skuld again. "Would you, uh, mind explaining that, please?"I thought it was a reasonable request, considering.

She sat down on a white limestone bench carved with vines and flowers. The stone blackened. If she sat there long enough, would the limestone turn to marble? She patted the bench gently. Reluctantly, I sat beside her.

Skuld sat poised for a moment, as though lost in thought. I waited politely.

"You have already puzzled out the most important part of it," she began, gazing wistfully at the magnificent rainbow bridge that arched out of sight overhead. "My sisters and I have not been . . .