The Threshold of Truth: The Midgard Born Series, #3

By Juliet Boyd

Taking on Yggdrasil could be a challenge too far. It might be a link between the nine worlds, but it's not a fast-track method of travelling between them … or is it?

 

Kyr has had some very bad ideas in the past, but this one is insane. So, why have Siri, Mo and Yda agreed to go along? It certainly isn't because they want to be victims of the ire of the gods. If they'd known that, surely they would have said no.

 

Dwarves, sea serpents, a Helhound are all in their immediate future. And, of course, a squirrel. More lives will be sacrificed for their future potential and chaos is possibly about to reign. Could this be the worst journey travelled yet, or the best thing for everyone?

 

Get your copy today and discover just what happens when the gods say 'fight'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Juliet Boyd
• Release date: Mar 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781540153395

Juliet Boyd

Juliet lives in Somerset in the south-west of England. She used to work in administration, but now writes full-time. Her main writing interests are fantasy, science fiction, weird fiction, horror and flash fiction. Details of her work are available on her website.

Book preview

Chapter 1

SIRI TIGHTENED THE ties on her pack, so that it rested flat and firm against her back. It was important to get the weight balanced, because she was going to need all the help she could get to make the climb. This journey was madness. Who, in their right mind, would even contemplate such a thing?

She remembered the fateful conversation she’d had with Kyr and exactly when it had taken place. It wasn’t the kind of conversation she’d expected on her wedding night. To be honest, she hadn’t expected any conversation with depth to it, but little in her life was what she expected.

‘Let’s find out how much of this is true,’ he’d said. ‘Don’t you want to know?’ he’d said. ‘We can use the tree,’ he’d said.

The tree. There was only one tree he could possibly mean. Yggdrasil. He had a theory that if it was connected to all the worlds, it meant you could climb up one root and down another. Never mind the fact that the distances could be greater than any of them could imagine, or that having to live on a tree while they travelled would cause all sorts of problems.

‘Don’t think about the problems. Let’s just go. Let’s do it.’ The mottoes by which Kyr seemed to live most of his life.

It sounded so possible when he said it, with all his enthusiasm tied in to the words. Like a fool, she’d agreed, because she did want to know the truth, to finally put to rest the niggles that still existed in her brain. There were a lot of those. Practically every conversation they had brought up one or another. It was no way to live, full of doubt. So, here she was, in front of the tree. The tree she’d refused to touch before. The tree she’d refused to believe was real. The tree that all the others were convinced was true to the myths. The tree she couldn’t see. Her belief was going to be stretched to the limit very soon. She didn’t know if she was ready to take that leap?

The weight of her pack bore down on her. Her stomach felt like lead. Her body already ached from the trek there. This was the last thing she wanted to do. She took in a heave of a breath and punched it out. It didn’t help. It just made her feel even more heart-poundingly breathless.

Are you ready? Yda said.

Siri stared up into the sky. Why had she agreed? Why? She had no desire to meet dwarves or elves or … see Hel. Even Asgard held no attraction. But the truth? That was something else. Something precious. As ready as I’ll ever be.

Don’t be a grouch. It’ll be fun, Mo said. The grin he clearly couldn’t suppress, stretched across his face.

Kyr tousled her brother’s hair. Yes, it will. I can’t wait. Right, I’ll go first and find the best route. Mo, I think you should go next.

I’ll take the rear, Yda said. That way Siri will have someone either side of her.

Because, of course, she was the one most likely to fall, because she was the one insanely scared of heights. They only knew the half of it.

Kyr took the rope and attached it to each of them in turn, through the specially made metal loops they had on their belts, with a significant amount of slack between them so they could actually move. Then, Siri tied off the ends for him and Yda. They were all set. This really was it.

Kyr took the first step, placing his hands and feet carefully, testing the safety of his hold before hoisting himself higher. He laughed. A childish laugh of unfettered glee. Siri watched intently, half in wonder and half trying to memorise exactly what he was doing. Her throat was dry as the plains. He was climbing. There really was a tree.

Mo followed on behind, a little too enthusiastically for her liking, and so fast she could feel the rope begin to pull through the loop at her waist. Hey, Mo. Slower. Safety first, she said, her voice cracking.

Her brother turned and looked back at her. His expression sagged. He stopped moving.

She shuffled forwards and reached out tentatively. She flinched as her hand made contact with something. If felt rough and warm. How could she feel something she couldn’t see? She tried to breathe normally. She dragged her fingers across the surface of the bark, trying to find any handhold that felt in the least bit safe. Eventually, she discovered a small crevice in the clearly gnarled bark. She tested one, two, three times that it would take her weight, but she couldn’t force herself to lift a foot off the ground. She tried another, and another. None felt safe enough. Her body shook. It was just like a cliff edge — that feeling that you were going to fall off. Except, this time, she would fall off the edge of the world into some great void of nothingness.

After many sighs and frustrated glances, from both Mo and Kyr, she found one hold she trusted and hoisted herself up, trying to place her foot somewhere safe at the same time. That was a disaster. She ended up scraping around for a foothold, her foot slipping and sliding as if it would never catch hold. A sob escaped her mouth. She tried to imagine doing this thousands of times over and her panic rose to an insanely high level. She refused to cry. She hated to be defeated. You can do this, she said, trying to convince herself that all her negative feelings were imaginary, that there was no danger involved at all. Blind faith. Was that what she needed to be taught? To believe she could do something like this that was so impossible she couldn’t put it into words? Was that why—?

Yes, you can. Yda’s voice was soft and comforting, but also filled with the strength she didn’t have. Yda pulled herself up beside Siri. How about we climb side by side? Would you prefer that? You can look at me instead of what’s not beneath us. I’ll guide you. You won’t even have to think about it.

Siri nodded and tried to smile. It probably looked like some mad grimace, but looking at Yda did give her comfort. Her friend looked serene, even here. Yda put her hand on Siri’s back and a feeling of warmth spread through her. A feeling of … immortality.

Reach up for the next handhold. Don’t keep searching around. Trust in the first one you find. This is the Tree of Life, not the Tree of Death. I believe it will help you. It will mould to you as much as you have to mould to it. It isn’t a constant thing, it’s ever-changing and growing, bending to its will and ours. Believe, Siri. It is the key to everything.

Siri took a deep breath and reached out her hand again. She placed her fingers into the first crack she found and let them rest there. She moved her other hand higher, as well, and, as she did, the crevice around her first hand started to feel more like a hook, cocooning her grip. Moments later, the second hand also felt equally gripped. She let out a sobbing laugh and began to place her feet in the same way and hauled herself further up. Yda was right. It was as if the tree were alive in more than just the way of normal trees. As if it knew what they were doing, could sense they were there, was taking care of them. Of her. For it to do that she had to be important. It was the only explanation.

Tears began to stream down her face. She still didn’t completely understand what was happening to her, to all of them, but she had this feeling deep inside that the day wasn’t far away when all would become clear.

WHEN THE TREE started to shake beneath them, they’d been climbing for long enough to have rested twice. Siri had no real concept of how long that was, because the atmosphere around them was not normal. It was neither sky, nor clouds. It was neither gloomy, nor light. She did know she could no longer see the ground. The whole of Midgard had disappeared from view much sooner than she thought it ought to have, given its size, bit this was no normal climb. It was no normal tree.

At first, the movement was quite gentle, as if the tree were just stretching out its limbs after a restful sleep. Over the course of a short space of time, it got more noticeable. Of course, trees did normally bend and stretch — in the breeze. There was no breeze. Which, once again, was odd. It made no sense, except ….

It was Mo who voiced what she was thinking. Is it trying to shake us off? His voice was tinged with fear, which accurately matched his expression — much different from how it had been when they’d started. Toil was quick to take away the joy of adventure.

Don’t be silly, Yda said, although the glance she gave Siri wasn’t so certain.

Well, it can’t be because we’re too heavy for it. We’re nothing to this thing, Kyr added. Why would it bother?

That was true. They were like insects on the surface of Yggdrasil, if it truly spanned nine worlds. And why wait until now? They were already a long way from the ground. There had been plenty of chance to get rid of them. Maybe, that was the point. If they fell now, they would die. It still didn’t sit right with Siri. The tree had been the beacon that drew the northbound there to hear their destiny, their past. Why would it now turn against them?

A more sickening thought entered her head. What if it wasn’t the tree? She looked up towards where she imagined Asgard might be. They’re trying to kill us, she said. It was a possibility she and Kyr had discussed before.

Huh? Mo frowned.

She winced. Speaking out loud hadn’t been a good idea, but she’d said it now. She couldn’t suck the words back in. There was no point in pretending her thoughts were anything but dark. The others. The ones who’ve died. They might be trying to kill us. To speed things along.

Yda’s eyes widened. Aydn?

Maybe. He wants you back. He has to. He loved you.

No. That can’t be it. He won’t even remember me.

Siri shook her head. They have to remember what happened while they were here, or what was the point? You can’t put a lesson into practice if you can’t remember it. I think he wants you back and he’ll do anything to get you. You’re probably Frigg. You were attracted in this life as well as the other one. He thinks by killing you, he’ll have you back sooner.

Yda frowned. That would be very selfish. I don’t think he’d do that, not if he learned anything while he was down here. He wasn’t that impulsive. Most of his decisions were reasoned, not rash.

But he’s a god again now. And gods didn’t seem to spend quite so much time thinking about their decisions as Midgardians did.

Siri felt the tree clamp harder around her fingers and she yelped. Moments later, the root they were on whipped violently sideways, in a way that would’ve caused any normal tree to crack under the pressure. Instinctively, her own grip tightened, although that wasn’t necessary.

The reason Yggdrasil had acted so strangely soon became apparent. A blinding light flashed some distance ahead of them and exploded, followed by booming thunder. There was the sound of a loud crack. The tree had been trying to evade the blow, without success, but there was no sound of any part of it falling to the ground. There was no ground.

Did you see that? Kyr said, pointing ahead. It healed itself. Makes our route a little more torturous, but I’ve never seen anything like it. I’d quite like some of that ability myself.

She stared at where he’d pointed and smiled half-heartedly. More torturous was not good.

He slapped the surface hard as if congratulating the tree.

A tree that healed itself?

She wondered if the angry gods had realised it would do that. It certainly showed no sign of wanting to let them fall.

Moments later, another flash of the brightest lightning she’d ever seen was followed by a roar of thunder that could wake the dead. It was much closer this time. The lightning seared her sight, blinding her so completely that she thought she’d never see again. She heard the tree crack once more, and this time she also felt it bend away, just above her handhold, leaving her left hand exposed and vulnerable if there were another attack. She didn’t have time to worry. The tree meshed around her grip. She could feel it gently enclosing her hand. It felt, warm, safe … natural. She blinked hard, but still couldn’t see

And then, Mo’s scream pierced the air. I can’t hold on.

Immediately after, Siri’s body jolted as the rope took the full force of his fall and her screams mingled with his. Total disorientation hit her like a wave. She blinked, trying again to adjust to normal vision. It didn’t work. Even so, she swung her head back and forth wildly, as if searching. There was nothing she could do to help.

He’s still there, Yda said.

She breathed a sigh of relief that not all of them had been looking at the light. Tell me what’s happening. I can’t see.

Yda put a hand on her shoulder. It’s all right. He’s safe.

Safe? What did that mean? What if the rope broke? Why hadn’t the tree caught him?

I’ll get him, Kyr said.

All her fears clutched together in her belly so tight that nothing would relieve it. All she could do was wait. She heard Kyr’s grunts as he descended. It was taking too long. What’s happening?

He’s all right, Siri. It’s going to be fine. But no matter what Yda said, it didn’t help.

Gradually, her vision began to clear and small shadows of movement coalesced into something more cohesive. She clutched on tighter to the tree, her nails rammed into the bark, as she watched the faint outline of Kyr inching down towards them. It seemed to take forever for him to reach the point above where Mo swung. She could barely take a breath, her chest was so tight. And returning vision didn’t make her feel any better. Her brother looked so tiny against the vastness beneath him. Nausea hit her stomach, but she bit it back. She needed to have faith, but she wasn’t about to pray.

Kyr took hold of the rope more firmly, wrapping it around what she imagined was a crack in the bark and then around his wrist.

Mo, I want you to climb up to me. Do you think you can do that?

That wasn’t what she’d expected he would do, which was to haul Mo up using his own strength. Then, an awful thought hit her. What would happen if Kyr fell? She and Yda couldn’t take the weight of both of them. That was what he was doing, keeping them safe.

As if Yda had shared thoughts with her, she hauled herself a little higher and wrapped the rope above Siri’s head in the same manner Kyr had done.

Pull back in the other direction a little, she said. That way, if something happens, we’ll already have the tension to stop it getting worse.

It made sense. She did as Yda has said, which meant she couldn’t see what was happening with Mo, because she was slightly turned away. It was probably better that way. If she watched him climb she’d be holding her breath with every clasp of the rope.

Listening to Mo’s grunts of determination wasn’t much better. The distance hadn’t seemed that far, but it took him a long time to get up the rope. He was going to be exhausted. They would have to stop. Maybe even sleep. That had always been a part of the plan, but not so soon. At least the godly storm had stopped. There was no time to wonder why.

When Mo grabbed for the tree again, the relief that ran through her made her feel weak, her muscles revealing to her just how tired they were in one fell swoop. She wanted to pull herself to him, to hug him, to cry with him, but she couldn’t. She sobbed where she was.

There’s a nook over there now, Kyr said, once Mo was once again secure, I suggest we stop there for a while. What do you say, Mo?"

Mo mumbled a reply.

Siri sucked in a breath. She should never have agreed to this.

Chapter 2

KYR SANK BACK into the bowl-shaped nook that had been created by the lightning damage to the Tree of Life. His senses were numbed by what had just happened. This was his fault. It was him who’d insisted Mo come with them and the boy had nearly died because of it. Siri was going to be angry with him about that. About the whole trip. He was the one who’d convinced her this was a good idea. He was the one who’d said it would be safe enough, if climbing a tree that disappeared into the clouds could ever be called safe. Which it couldn’t, obviously.

He looked over at the pair of them. They seemed so vulnerable and scared. Even Yda, calm personified normally, had worry lines etched across her face. Of course, part of that had come from Aydn’s death, which seemed so long ago now. They’d built a whole town since then. It wasn’t long ago, though. Yda was still grieving, but quietly, not imposing it upon anyone else. He admired her for that, for being able to hide her emotions so well. He’d never been able to hide anything about the way he felt, especially when he opened his mouth. That always betrayed him, in ways that often weren’t kind. He sighed. He couldn’t keep silent now. They needed to discuss what had just happened. They needed to work out what to do next. Yda beat him to it.

I suppose, if they are trying to kill us, it’s a compliment, she said.

Funny type of compliment, killing someone. Not the type he enjoyed receiving. You really think they want me back? He hadn’t intended to voice that, but the words just spilled out from his unruly mouth.

Why are you always so down on yourself? Yda said. You can be a lot of fun, and everyone loves you after you helped us slay the dreki.

But there was a difference between that kind of love and real love. The kind of love where people actually liked being around you on a regular basis. The kind he had with Siri. Loving someone because they’d done something for you was not the same. He shrugged. Do you think they’re going to keep on doing it? It’s going to make the journey pretty difficult if they do.

He was the master of understatement, when it suited him.

Siri stared at him, eyes wide. You don’t think it’s already difficult just climbing this thing? She waved her arms around her as she spoke. He didn’t miss the extra emphasis.

The tree. Massive in a way that couldn’t adequately be described with any words he knew. He didn’t think the climb itself was that difficult. It was just a tree, if you didn’t look