INTRO
 
Welcome to CHAPTER 8 of the Kinsmen Die podcast, home of fantasy fiction based on Norse mythology that’s written and read by me, Matt Bishop.
 
I’ve written two novels – Kinsmen Die and Dark Grows the Sun. They are the first two books in my series called And the Heavens Burn. 
 
In this podcast I will read both books and, when it’s finally finished, that third, concluding book in the series. Right now, I’m planning to read one chapter per week. 
 
In the last chapter we left Odin getting info from a drunk Heimdall about what was happening with Vidar in Hals, far to the west. 

In this chapter we’re back with Frigg who is not happy that Odin’s going to ride off westward after arriving home not 5 seconds earlier. And then, her night gets worse.
 
Let’s do this.

Chapter Eight
Frigg
Frigg wrapped her arms around herself, containing her rising disbelief. Her rising irritation. Her rising sense that no matter what she did, Odin would do as he pleased, leaving her to contain whatever followed in his wake.
“I cannot believe you’re leaving again after you literally just promised not to.” She hated the rising note in her voice and forced it down. “Send the Einherjar. It’s why we have them.”
Odin gestured at the door through which Heimdall had just been dragged. “You heard him. Vidar called for help. I’m the only way any reinforcements can get there in time.”
She guided him back toward where Baldr stood repacking his satchel. “Vidar can take care of himself. You saw to that long before you left. You are needed here.”
He shook his head. “Vidar wouldn’t call for help unless he felt it necessary.”
The familiar weight of having to do everything alone settled back onto her shoulders. “And what about the reason I summoned you back? You’re needed here.”
“I’m fine, Mother,” Baldr said, tucking the last pouch of herbs away. “Really.”
“You weren’t fine this morning. The whole reason he’s back is to help you.”
“Then I’ll go with him. If the dream—or whatever it is—happens again, Father can deal with it then.”
“What, on horseback? Or right before a battle?” She shook her head sharply and jabbed a finger downward. “No, you need to stay here.”
As she glared at her son, his hair turned the same fiery gold as the witchlamps glowing behind him. The glow reddened, and a fire seemed to rise, crackling around his head and spreading above it to unfurl like a ship’s sail. And then, bellying out before the wind, the vision burst into flame.
She stumbled backward, shock stealing the breath from her lungs. She was... astride a ship, flames licking at the gunwales and crawling up the rigging and skittering across the sail. The flames roared and rushed across the planks beneath her feet, but she felt no heat.
Baldr’s face swam into view behind the flickering flames. He sat straight-backed on a chair set beside the mast. The flames lay at his feet like hungry hounds. He was speaking to her, but the hounds snapped his words from the air. Grave goods littered the deck, gold cups melting in the heat. The ship’s timbers cracked and popped, the paint curled, and ash swirled. Yet still she couldn’t hear him. She was about to press forward when the flames leaped to her son’s face, devouring his flesh and leaving blackened bone behind. And still he kept speaking, but she still couldn’t hear him, not above the roaring flames and her own growing scream. He raised a skeletal hand in farewell and she stumbled backward, falling, hands...
... pressing her hard against one of the hall’s wooden pillars. She thrashed against them as she heard her own voice screaming, “No, no, no...”
 
***
 
“Here, Father, give her this.”
Frigg felt the cool rim of a cup pressed to her lips. The world spun, but she let the liquid pour in. Even with the tartness typical of Baldr’s remedies, it coursed, cool and sweet, to her belly, where it vanished into her body’s warmth.
As the spinning slowed, she forced her eyes open. She focused first on Odin’s craggy face and deep-set eyes, warm with concern like the sun above a glacier. No flames danced above his head. A carving of an open-mouthed wolf yawned wide over his shoulder. Her stomach twisted, and she shuddered and closed her eyes.
His rough hand brushed her forehead and smoothed her hair. She felt whiskers against her cheek and a gentle kiss.
“Give your mother and me a moment please, Baldr,” Odin said.
“Of course,” he said.
She counted his steps—eight, ten, a dozen.
Odin’s voice was close to her ear, calm but tight with concern. “What did you see this time?”
She steeled herself to look past Odin to where Baldr sat at one of the empty tables. But it was just him sitting there, no flames, a concerned look creasing his features.
“Frigg?”
“How long was I—”
“Not long. Baldr had just finished that remedy when you woke.” His voice roughened into a hoarse whisper. “What did you see, Frigg?”
She met his insistent gray eyes and shook her head.
He sighed, sat back, and took her much darker hand in his own. Odd how Baldr favored her coloring, but her second son favored his father’s. Their daughter Hermod was somewhere in between.
“The more I know, the better I can help. If you don’t tell me—”
She shifted and laid her hand on his arm, easing him back. “These visions—and Baldr’s dreams—are why I sat upon Hlidskjalf and called for you to come back. That’s all you need to know for now.”
“All I need—” he raised his hands palms out and straightened. “Frigg, I have to ride out. If it is the Jotunn, then Vidar needs my help. I’ve more than enough witchthread to speed the journey both ways. I won’t be gone long.”
She sniffed. “You’ve said that before.”
“I mean it.”
“You always say that, too.” She brushed away the gritty residue of tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed.
She looked past Odin again at Baldr’s tawny, clear-eyed face that blended the best of her features with the best of Odin’s. He was watching them closely and seemed more relaxed now that she was moving and talking.
“Tell me what you saw,” Odin said again. “It may help.”
An agonizing doubt stabbed at her. “We made sure he couldn’t die, didn’t we?”
“We absolutely did. It’s been proven a hundred times over—and we’ll prove it yet again in two weeks’ time.” He gripped her hands tighter, voice taking on a worried note. “Please, Frigg, what did you see?”
When had saying what she saw ever done any good? Certainly not as a girl, when she had freely spoken of her visions. She shook her head and smiled tightly.
“Frigg, the more I know, the faster I can solve this mystery.”
Unbidden, the imaginary flames leaped back across her son’s face, devouring the fine, whole flesh and leaving behind a blackened ruin that framed bright teeth, white and clean. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back against the wall, lashing the memory down as she might a billowing sail.
Baldr could not die. He couldn’t. She and Odin had made sure of it.
But if that were true, why was she seeing what she saw? Her visions had always come true—not always literally, but whatever see saw always came about. Always. So did that mean he would die on a ship? And if so, why had he been surrounded by grave goods?
Maybe he was safer in the grasslands—safer than here, where the river Silfr ran right outside the gates and down to the Thund.
“I changed my mind. Go ahead and take him with you.”
“What?”
“Take Baldr with you.”
“But just moments ago you were—”
She raised a hand. “I know what I said. But you’re right. If the Jotunn have attacked, you do need to go.”
She beckoned for Baldr to approach. He knelt and touched cool fingers to her wrist, which pulsed in time with her heart.
“I’m fine, Baldr.”
“But—”
She laughed. “You two are more alike than either of you would like to admit. Listen to me. I’m fine. Yes, my visions are returning—slowly and fitfully, but they’re coming back. They can’t be cured, and talking about them doesn’t help anyone. I see what I see. Once I get used to having them again, these little episodes won’t happen. All right?”
She looked from one to the other. Odin’s face was creased with annoyance. He’d never liked that she kept what she saw to herself. Baldr’s expression was simple concern.
“You should go with your father, Baldr. Vidar or his warriors may need your skills.”
“If the Jotunn have attacked after all this time and all the progress we’ve made,” he said, “then we’re going to need answers from them, too.”
“Indeed we will,” Odin said. “So we should be about our preparations. If you’re sure you’re all right, Frigg.”
To prove it, she stood. “I am. Go swiftly.”
Odin stepped close, hugged her, and kissed her cheek.
Into his ear, she whispered, “Just make sure you bring him back unhurt.”
“What can hurt him?” he whispered back. “But I will, Frigg. Count on it.”
When he stepped away, Baldr embraced her. To him, she said, “Keep an eye on your father. He has a tendency to wander off.”
Odin frowned, but Baldr laughed and kissed her cheek.
She watched the pair of them walk across the hall to the side door. Even their strides were similar.
She leaned against the pillar, ignoring the wicked leer of that carved wolf. When Odin’s hand was on the door, she called out, “Send Gná in, please. She’s probably waiting right outside.”
Her family appeared to be safe. But after what she’d just seen, Frigg had no desire to be alone.

OUTRO
Well, folks, that was CHAPTER 8 of Kinsmen Die. I hope you enjoyed it. 

As mentioned in the first recap episode, the Frigg in the myths can see the doom of all men and women … but here we learn that her visions which have been gone for a long time and are only now returning.

 
I’m a big believer in value for value. So, I have several requests:
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I’d also enjoy hearing from you. You can email me at mattbishopwrites@gmail.com
  
And with that, I will leave you with this thought from the sayings of the High One, Odin himself:
 
This is the Bellows translation, available on Sacred Texts
https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/poe/poe04.htm
 
 
Verse 8 
 
Happy the one | who wins for himself
Favor and praises fair;
Less safe by far | is the wisdom found
That is hid in another's heart.