James Lovegrove - The Age Of Odin by James Lovegrove

of Asgard other than cross-country," Heimdall said, "and I couldn't recommend that. You know yourself what it can be like out there for the unwary traveller. And it isn't just wolves you have to watch out for."
    "Yeah, I know. Trolls, right?"
    "Or simply getting lost," he said, probably not spotting the cynicism. "Plenty of space out there to get lost in. The forests are vast and trackless. Unless you know your way around them, as the Valkyries do, you could wander there in circles 'til you die."
    I gestured to the far side of the bridge. "But that-a-way, over the bridge, that'll definitely get you back to, er, Midgard. Right?"
    He nodded. "Long way, though. Very long way. Bifrost is the only link between Asgard and Midgard, but many Midgardian roads lead to Bifrost and you may take the wrong one and end up far from where you'd wish to be."
    "Like I said, I won't be walking. I'll -"
    All at once, Heimdall's head snapped round. He squinted, eyes narrowing to glittering pinpricks.
    "Did you hear that?" he whispered.
    "Nope. But then I've got shit hearing."
    "I haven't. Quite the opposite. I can hear wool growing on a sheep in a far-off field. I can hear a blade of grass pushing up through the soil in the next county."
    "That's quite a talent. Maybe you should -"
    "Shh!" he hissed. "There it is again."
    He whipped the Kalashnikov off his back, switched the selector to semiauto, and racked the charging handle. His gaze was focused on the woods lying beyond the gorge. I saw him slow his breathing to the bare minimum, scarcely a trickle of vapour coming from his nostrils. He stood rigid. Only those eyes moved, scanning the gloomy darkness beneath the distant trees.
    A minute passed.
    Two.
    I didn't say a thing. Heimdall was scamming me. There was nothing out there. He hadn't heard a sound. He just wanted to spook me, for reasons best known to him.
    Only, the intensity with which he was staring...
    And, I couldn't be sure, but he seemed scared. Alarmed, at any rate. Genuinely. Not faking it. There was a strain about his face, a tightness to his jaw. Whatever he'd heard, or thought he'd heard, wasn't something he'd been keen to hear.
    And then it stole over me - a sense of being watched. Someone out there hiding among the trees, surveying us. A definite presence.
    The hairs on the back of my neck crackled. I could see no eyes, but I could feel them. The dead weight of their gaze, looming from the shadows.
    Five whole minutes passed, and then, with a "hmph," Heimdall lowered the rifle. "Yes. Well. Gone. A scouting party, sneaking around, reconnoitring. They're starting to get bold."
    "Who is?" I couldn't help but ask.
    "The enemy. They were well concealed, so I couldn't tell if it was frost giants, trolls, or the other enemy - the one we really have to worry about."
    "Oh. So the frost giants and the trolls aren't so bad, then."
    "Not to be underestimated, but a nuisance more than anything. Certainly not worth blowing the Gjallarhorn for."
    I worked it out for myself. "Your trumpet? The one I just saw in the guardhouse?"
    A sombre nod. "That's reserved for one very particular occasion. The day we're all dreading. The day we're preparing for but hoping will never come. When I blow the Gjallarhorn... Well, let's just say you'll wish I hadn't had to."
    He left that hanging ominously in the air for a moment or so, like a bad smell. Then his mood lifted and he said, "Still, that's in the future. Now's now, eh? Cherish the moment. Speaking of which, I understand there's going to be a feast this evening. Big celebration."
    "No one told me. What in aid of?"
    "No special reason. Odin just likes to hold feasts every once in a while. Helps everyone get along. Cements solidarity. You should be there. They're terrific fun. All sorts of roistering goes on."
    "Blimey, really? Roistering? I haven't had a good roister in, ooh, ages. You going?"
    "Oh no. Never abandon my post. That's my duty and my curse as Heimdall, born of nine mothers, gatekeeper of