Gunnar and Rurik turned to each other and grinned. Then they followed the birds.
They walked across empty, rocky country, the ravens just keeping ahead of them. After a while they arrived at a gorge, its entrance flanked by huge stone pillars, and at that moment the sun burned through the mist. Gunnar looked up and was amazed to see a colossal rainbow arching across the sky. One bright end was grounded in the gorge, the other lost in the far distance.
“Bifrost…” said Rurik. “So such a thing really does exist.”
“Why of course it does!” said a booming voice, and a red-bearded giant appeared. He wore a shining silver helmet and a silver byrnie that reflected the colours of the rainbow bridge. In one hand he carried a tall spear, its perfect leaf-shaped blade gleaming in the bright light. Gunnar knew this was no mortal.
“You must be Heimdall,” he said, remembering what Odin had told him.
“And you must be Gunnar, the boy who wants to visit Valhalla,” boomed Heimdall. “Odin told me to keep an eye out for you – and not to stand in your way. He’s impatient to see you.”
“Your quest is almost over, Gunnar,” said Rurik, slapping him on the back. “It won’t be long before you’re on your way home with your father.”
Gunnar smiled and they stepped forward, but Heimdall barred Rurik’s way with his spear. “Only the boy,” Heimdall said. “Odin didn’t speak of you.”
Rurik scowled and half pulled his sword out of its scabbard, ready to fight the God. Gunnar put his hand over Rurik’s, stopping him. “Don’t worry, Rurik,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Go back and wait with the others.”
“Very well,” said Rurik, his eyes still fixed on Heimdall’s. Then he turned to Gunnar, his face troubled, as Gunnar remembered it from their night on the drowning posts. “My brother’s name was Olaf,” said Rurik. “He died bravely, so he might be up there. If you see him, tell him…”
“I will, Rurik,” said Gunnar. “So, Heimdall, what do I have to do?”
“Just go to the foot of the rainbow.” Heimdall lowered his spear and moved aside. “You’ll soon work it out from there.”
Gunnar went past him into the gorge, a jagged crevice in the land with rock walls rising on both sides. He walked towards Bifrost, and as he got closer he began to make out the colours blending into each other – red, yellow, green, blue, purple – the whole thing like a giant column of magical, sparkling ice.
He looked back. Rurik was watching intently from the entrance to the gorge, Heimdall next to him. Gunnar carried on until he was less than an arm’s length from the bridge. He looked for steps within it, but found nothing. He went closer, took a deep breath … and touched the rainbow.
His fingertips tingled – and he was pulled inside, then felt himself being flung upwards at incredible speed. He was flying
in
the colours, helpless as an autumn leaf caught in a fast-flowing river, and screaming at the top of his voice.
Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun. Gunnar flew out of the rainbow and rolled over and over until he came to a halt. He lay face down for a moment, gasping for breath, and only raised his head when he heard the sound of ravens cawing. The same two birds were standing in front of him, staring at him with their beady black eyes, their heads cocked to one side.
“Hugin and Munin…” he murmured. “How did
you
get here?”
“They live here, Gunnar,” said a voice. “At least they do when they’re not being my eyes and ears. Welcome to Asgard, home of the Gods.”
Gunnar looked up. He was on a path that climbed a short, rocky slope. At the top was a great throne carved from stone, and sitting on it was a smiling Odin. He wore a long white robe and was bare-headed, but otherwise he was the same old man Gunnar had met at the God House. Above them the sun was shining in a blue sky, although a pale moon was also visible. The ravens flew to Odin, settling on the
They walked across empty, rocky country, the ravens just keeping ahead of them. After a while they arrived at a gorge, its entrance flanked by huge stone pillars, and at that moment the sun burned through the mist. Gunnar looked up and was amazed to see a colossal rainbow arching across the sky. One bright end was grounded in the gorge, the other lost in the far distance.
“Bifrost…” said Rurik. “So such a thing really does exist.”
“Why of course it does!” said a booming voice, and a red-bearded giant appeared. He wore a shining silver helmet and a silver byrnie that reflected the colours of the rainbow bridge. In one hand he carried a tall spear, its perfect leaf-shaped blade gleaming in the bright light. Gunnar knew this was no mortal.
“You must be Heimdall,” he said, remembering what Odin had told him.
“And you must be Gunnar, the boy who wants to visit Valhalla,” boomed Heimdall. “Odin told me to keep an eye out for you – and not to stand in your way. He’s impatient to see you.”
“Your quest is almost over, Gunnar,” said Rurik, slapping him on the back. “It won’t be long before you’re on your way home with your father.”
Gunnar smiled and they stepped forward, but Heimdall barred Rurik’s way with his spear. “Only the boy,” Heimdall said. “Odin didn’t speak of you.”
Rurik scowled and half pulled his sword out of its scabbard, ready to fight the God. Gunnar put his hand over Rurik’s, stopping him. “Don’t worry, Rurik,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Go back and wait with the others.”
“Very well,” said Rurik, his eyes still fixed on Heimdall’s. Then he turned to Gunnar, his face troubled, as Gunnar remembered it from their night on the drowning posts. “My brother’s name was Olaf,” said Rurik. “He died bravely, so he might be up there. If you see him, tell him…”
“I will, Rurik,” said Gunnar. “So, Heimdall, what do I have to do?”
“Just go to the foot of the rainbow.” Heimdall lowered his spear and moved aside. “You’ll soon work it out from there.”
Gunnar went past him into the gorge, a jagged crevice in the land with rock walls rising on both sides. He walked towards Bifrost, and as he got closer he began to make out the colours blending into each other – red, yellow, green, blue, purple – the whole thing like a giant column of magical, sparkling ice.
He looked back. Rurik was watching intently from the entrance to the gorge, Heimdall next to him. Gunnar carried on until he was less than an arm’s length from the bridge. He looked for steps within it, but found nothing. He went closer, took a deep breath … and touched the rainbow.
His fingertips tingled – and he was pulled inside, then felt himself being flung upwards at incredible speed. He was flying
in
the colours, helpless as an autumn leaf caught in a fast-flowing river, and screaming at the top of his voice.
Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun. Gunnar flew out of the rainbow and rolled over and over until he came to a halt. He lay face down for a moment, gasping for breath, and only raised his head when he heard the sound of ravens cawing. The same two birds were standing in front of him, staring at him with their beady black eyes, their heads cocked to one side.
“Hugin and Munin…” he murmured. “How did
you
get here?”
“They live here, Gunnar,” said a voice. “At least they do when they’re not being my eyes and ears. Welcome to Asgard, home of the Gods.”
Gunnar looked up. He was on a path that climbed a short, rocky slope. At the top was a great throne carved from stone, and sitting on it was a smiling Odin. He wore a long white robe and was bare-headed, but otherwise he was the same old man Gunnar had met at the God House. Above them the sun was shining in a blue sky, although a pale moon was also visible. The ravens flew to Odin, settling on the
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