Chapter 7
The Right Demons

There had to be frost giant blood in him. That was the only explanation that many of the loggers had for the priest. He almost smacked his head clear through the doorframe when he walked into the tavern. He slammed the door shut behind him, and glared around.

Some of the loggers took a moment to drink and examine the newcomer. His skin was blue, that was a good sign that he was frost giant. Or that the winter really was settling in outside. He was covered in crystal blue robes, his black hair falling down beyond the hood. Between the hood, the hair, and the thick beard that hung down to his chest, he was almost hidden to all who tried to get a better look.

His eyes made all turn back away. They were colder than the outside, threatening to chill one’s heart to death. Perhaps he wasn’t exactly friendly.

But the priest walked up to the bar, and ordered the hottest, strongest mug of whiskey the bar could handle. The loggers heaved a sigh of relief. The bouncer, cloaked in furs, put a knife away, and returned to a seat by the fire.

It wasn’t too far-fetched, truly. Frost giants weren’t as rare as some thought, this far into the frozen North. There were years summer just forgot to travel back up, and the giants loved the snow. Perhaps somewhere down the line someone enjoyed a cooler bed…

The drink hit the table. The priest looked at it, and his beard crinkled into a smile. The bartender always knew how close to the snows he could get the supply trains up to town, and this year he had cleared the merchants out. The bartender was used to warming up the loggers with this drink. It was a heavy measure of whiskey, lemon, and crushed cinnamon that was still smoking when the priest brought it up to his lips. It burned going down, warming him up to the core. He could feel the smoke coming out of his nose, filtering out of the hood like a chimney. His skin reddened, and returned to his natural white tone.

His name was Glibolg, and he was settled in. Thank Mimir.

Glibolg didn’t know what he was doing in this logging town. It certainly wasn’t for the atmosphere. And he hadn’t seen any women yet. Drinks were good, perhaps that’s why Mimir had led him there.

The priest was indeed a believer. He knew that his God had plans, and used him in this frozen North to gather information and insight. Glibolg had spent much of the last few weeks in taverns such as this, listening to the great tales by men and women who had learned them of old. He would write down what he could not remember. When the time was right, Glibolg would return to his well in the ice, and look for his God.

He took another sip, warmed by the draught, and looked at the men. Hmmm, difficult. All wore beards, yet they all seemed more grizzled than wizened. Was there any here who knew a tale more extravagant than having once met a bartender with tattoos in unusual places? But there were no stories, no tales, barely any sound. The crackle of the fire, a poured drink sloshed on the floor. Snorts and grunts as loggers disappeared into their cups. Sullen tavern.

Perhaps he was in the wrong place. Or better yet, this was a brief respite, a chance to relax his bones while the snows came in.

A scream erupted from upstairs. A girl, who soon came running down the main stairwell. She was pale, a bulk of quivering troll that only had a sheet to cover her. She ran into the taproom and dove behind the bar.

An ogre tumbled down the stairs. Golden-skinned, it stared ahead with bleary eyes into the tavern. The loggers each tried to look away. Yerk wasn’t fast, but even hunched over his weight eclipsed the mostly human crowd. And his tusks were able to rip open any who dared oppose him.

“Hettie…” Yerk muttered. “Not done, Hettie.”

Glibolg stared at the ogre. So there were women. Unlike the men, they must have been working now that the snows came in. He thought about intervening, perhaps shoving this one out the door to cool his temper.

Yerk grabbed a tankard, and downed it. He swaggered towards the bar, and shook his head.

“I paid for ye!” He bellowed. “Me, Yerk! You mine!”

Now that was just insulting to ogres. Glibolg had spent several pleasant months amongst several clans just beyond the mountains. Not always the brightest, but certainly good-natured creatures when the war drums weren’t beaten. This idiot was bringing stereotypes upon his entire race.

Glibolg had to do something about this.

“Excuse me,” The priest muttered to those around him. Yerk twitched and threw the cup. It slammed into the priest, shattering against his chest. Glibolg dropped, gasping.

“Where Hettie!” Yerk shouted.

This might be more difficult than the priest thought. Perhaps the loggers were right.

“I can smell ye, Hettie,” Yerk said. “I can smell your…”

“Please don’t say it, Yerk,” came a voice from by the fire. The bouncer slid out from her chair. Damn it, she was going to have to work tonight. She slipped off her hood.

Glibolg stared at the being. The bouncer was unlike anything he had seen before. With her furs discarded, her blue skin remained even next to the roaring fire. Her black eyes stared straight at the ogre, challenging him to do anything else. White horns poked out of the shortly cropped hair.

Kait’s tail swished one way and another. She had just gotten her seat the right temperature.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of that mouth. I don’t even want to think about what’s been in there lately.”

Yerk stared, trying to process the blue demon girl in his midst. Yerk was never particularly smart, and the two kegs soaking his liver were not helping brain function. Still, he should have known better.

“’Nother girl?” Yerk asked.

“Last chance to leave, Yerk.”

Yerk at this point most likely realized something was wrong. No one seemed to be laughing at the girl. And he wasn’t getting to see anyone naked. Maybe this was negotiating? He had heard of that.

“You want first?”

Kait dove at the ogre. No knives, no horns, nothing that would detract from the pure pleasure that was kicking the daylights out of this yellow monstrosity.

Yerk trembled, driven to the ground. He was just trying to have some fun. Girls liked it when he got a little rowdy, right? Why was this one being so mean? But there was Kait, kicking him in the gut, the head. He roared in her face. Kait roared back and slammed a fist in his nose. That wasn’t fair.

“Move!” Kait shouted. Men dove out of the way as Kait seized a nearby table. She lifted it up and waved it at the ogre. Yerk roared again, starting to get angry. He had paid for Hettie! She was his.

“Back off!” He shouted. Kait slammed the table in his face. The ogre flew backwards, landing in front of the door.

Kait dropped the table and ran towards the ogre. “Get out!” She yelled, and launched herself at him again.

Glibolg stared in awe. The girl seemed to be completely lost to rage, but it was an act as well as fuel for passion. Every blow was measured, its ferocity tempered with training. One kick in the knees drove him backwards. Duck under the drunken swing. A feint sent him back another step. One more and he bumped against the door.

“Don’t break the door!” The bartender shouted. “Way too cold for that!”

Kait lashed out with her tail, wrapping it around Yerk’s ankle. Yerk yanked his foot back, sending the girl crashing into him. Kait snaked around him, and locked her legs around his throat. She clamped tight, and started to rain blows on his head.

“Sleep!” She shouted. “Sleep you damn idiot!”

Yerk’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He crashed into the floor, denting the wood. Kait crawled off the ogre, and glared at the tavern.

“Someone get him out of here. He’s been warned before.”

Several of the loggers knew where Yerk lived. They started pulling him out the door towards his place, with the promise of free drinks upon return. It was well worth the price of the coming cold.

The tavern returned to their drinks. Yerk getting rowdy wasn’t exactly news. Some money changed hands. No one expected Kait to lose, but she had taken longer than expected. Probably had been warned not to break too many things this time.

Glibolg cleared his head, and took another sip. Last time he would get involved with anyone else’s problems with an ogre.

“Borrowing this.” What?

Kait threw the priest to the ground by the neck. He coughed and spluttered up at the blue girl, trying to gasp out a question or a curse. Kait ignored him and started to undo the robe.

“Since you were trying to be so helpful. Idiot.” Kait snuck a peek underneath the robes before she removed them. Good, the priest wasn’t naked. Just impressively muscled, bulging under the shirt. She was thankful he wore pants.

“Those are mine!” Glibolg finally spoke. The helpful loggers still hadn’t closed the door, and it swung to and fro, buffeted by the winds. Glibolg shivered and clasped his arms around him.

“Grab my seat,” Kait said. She vaulted over the bar with the robe. “Keep it warm for me.”

Glibolg scrambled up to see Kait place his clothes over Hettie the troll. Hettie looked consumed in the robe, hidden from view save her eyes and horns. Kait murmured softly to the still-crying girl, motioning her back up the stairs.

Glibolg frowned, finished his drink, and followed the two girls up the stairs.

The second floor had a half-dozen rooms for boarding. And given the two disheveled women that ran into a room, it seemed to be the only brothel in the area. Glibolg followed behind them, stopping at the door.

Kait took an offered rag, dabbing a Hettie’s tears. She frowned and cussed, looking at the girl with disappointment.

“Yerk, Hettie?” Kait shook her head. “You know that ogre likes to get a little violent.”

Hettie wiped her nose with Glibolg’s sleeve, and shrugged. “He always pays up front.”

“Doesn’t matter if he knocks your teeth out,” Kait said.

“He’s also the only one who doesn’t mind…” Hettie trailed off.

Kait slapped the troll across the face.

“You listen here, Henrietta Trollsdottr,” She muttered. “You are a beauty, you have compassion, and you are good. Don’t let anyone ever tell you that just because Yerk wants what’s between your legs means that he’s the best life has to offer.”

She turned on the two women Glibolg had seen earlier, “Goes to the both of you, too.” The women stared back at Kait. It was easier for them. They were human in a human town. If Hettie had been just a couple leagues west, that might have been different.

“Now, get out of here so I can yell at our peeper,” Kait said. She turned to the priest, an eyebrow raised.

Hettie reached for the robe. Glibolg shook his head. “Keep it tonight, my dear. I’ll collect it in the morning.”

The two women ushered the troll out the door. Glibolg walked in to look at Kait. She truly was stunning. Even pouting, her beauty was apparent. It wasn’t classic, willowy figure. She held muscle, with curves that enchanted as much as promised a firm blow.

But those horns, that tail, those full black eyes. If Glibolg still held urges, he would have had them for such as her. “What are you?” he asked.

“That’s my line,” Kait muttered. “Some nut trying to take on an ogre that has too much drink and not enough sex. You have a death wish?”

“I am protected.”

“So you say,” Kait said. “But even a full giant might have trouble against Yerk. You’re lucky he was too far gone tonight to be really angry.”

And yet she triumphed. This was an unusual girl.

He extended a hand. “Glibolg,” He said. “Priest.”

Kait laughed, and took a step forward. “Kait. Demonborn.”

Aha. That could be it. She watched his eyes process the information. Suddenly the entire picture of this girl seemed to make more sense. She looked down at the offered hand and chuckled.

“Still want me to get too close?”

Glibolg laughed. This was not just some girl, or some fiend. This was someone with a story. He had to know more. “Absolutely. Demonborn…half then?”

Kait frowned, and nodded.

Glibolg laughed. “I thought you were one of the Snow Queen’s daughters. That was as close as I could understand it.”

“Nope,” Kait walked out the door. “Just a simple spawn of the Pit.”

“The Pit…” Kait watched Glibolg trail off.

“You’re a priest and don’t know the Pit?”

“I know Niflheim,” Glibolg said. “I know of the Nine Realms, of the great halls of Asgard and the World Tree known as Yggdrasil.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Kait stared at Glibolg. “Who are you?”

“Glibolg Longarm,” He said. “Priest of Mimir, guardian of the well of knowledge. Half-giant, as you might have guessed.”

Kait’s eyes lit up. She grabbed Glibolg. “Come with me.”

What? Glibolg was pulled out the door and down the hall. What was this girl thinking? She led him down the end of the hallway, and shoved him into a darkened bedroom. He bumped into a bed, tumbling onto the sheets.

Kait started to rummage through a table for a set of matches. “You are knowledgeable of many things?”

Glibolg stifled a cough. “Mimir teaches us to be aware of all schools of thought.”

Kait struck a match, and lit a candle. “I need you, Glibolg. I think you’re the first person I’ve met who could help me.”

Glibolg held his hands up. “I may, or may not. There are others who might have what you seek.”

“Not here,” Kait said. “You need to try.”

“My child,” Glibolg said.

Kait grabbed the priest and stared at him. “No more talking.”

Kait pushed his head towards the corner. “Fix this.”

Glibolg stared into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he noticed something there, something transparent. Another girl?

No. A statue of a girl. Young, pretty, smiling. She was made entirely of crystal, her hands clasped in prayer.

Glibolg moved off the bed. He may have been wrong, but to look at this statue, it was exquisite. He ran his hands over the material, marveling at its warmth. Even in this chill it remained warm. An enchantment of sorts, to be sure, but what was it?

He looked on the face. Perfectly smooth, not a single noticeable cut to be seen. It looked as if life had been crystallized, and not just a piece of artwork.

“Magnificent,” Glibolg breathed. Kait stood behind him, staring at the priest and statue.

“Well, can you fix her?”

“I’m not a craftsman, Kait Demonborn,” Glibolg stood up. He kept his eyes on the statue. “I know some of the theory, have witnessed some pieces, but not something so marvelous as this…”

“She’s not a statue,” Kait said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Lila,” Kait said. “She’s not a statue. She’s trapped.”

Trapped? What could she be…oh, no. Glibolg’s brow furrowed, and murmured a quick prayer to Mimir for insight. His eyes flared, and the statue lit up. There, the life force. Holding strong, straining against the confines of the crystal.

A girl, trapped in crystal. As a crystal. How was this possible?

“What curse is this?” Glibolg asked.

“I don’t know.” Kait said.

“Well what does she…”

“I don’t know!” Kait said. “I met her minutes before it happened. She spoke a prophecy and suddenly she was like this.”

Curious and more curious. So not a curse. Perhaps the result of such a magnificent confrontation of the present and future caused such a rapture. “And she was speaking on what? Ragnarok?”

“No.”

“Asgard, perhaps? Or Midgard.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What was this girl talking about?”

“Me,” Kait said. “She was speaking about me.”

So that’s why they were here. Glibolg stood up, and dusted himself off.

“I cannot help you.” He should return to the bar. Take another drink, and speak with the bartender about renting a room for the night. Without any of this company.

Kait stepped between him and the door. “You have to help.”

“I cannot,” Glibolg repeated.

“She is trapped in there!” Kait shouted. “Completely crystallized, and yet still alive, I promise you. She gave me a prophecy and suddenly she is stuck.”

“While I understand…”

“Is it because I’m a demon?” Kait asked. “I know priests hate me. I’ve had to deal with you hypocrites from every pantheon. Always naming me a scourge of all that is good, and then wondering what my tail could do between the sheets.”

“I apologize for my profession’s hypocrisy…”

“What do you want?” Kait asked. “Is it money? I’ve got some of that. A couple of decent blades I could hock to get even more. Sex, even? I would show you…”

“Child, be silent!” Glibolg thundered.

She fell quiet.

Glibolg sighed, and groaned. “You are beautiful, Kait. And I do not doubt your words, any of them. But thrice said, I cannot help you. Not because I do not want to, but because I am unable.”

Kait stared, confused.

“I follow a god of knowledge. And many secrets are known to me. I can turn back this snowfall into a gentle cooling breeze, just as I can bury the town in ice. I know the true names of seventeen trees, and in return have watered their roots in my blood. I can look into the past and see the truth of soul. All of this Mimir has given me.

“But you are not his purview. For you are of the Pit, where even Yggdrasil dares not enter. To you my sight is blind.”

He looked back at the statue. Was it possible that there were tears in her eyes?

Kait collapsed to the ground. Her tears were real, unguarded. She looked away, trying to stay calm.

“I thought a priest that would listen…any priest.” She whispered. “They might have answers.”

“There are more gods in the sky than birds,” Glibolg said. “And they do not get along.”

He turned to leave.

“What am I?”

He stopped. And turned to Kait. She looked off into the distance, unsure of her own existence.

“I’ve had a while to consider this,” Kait said. “Looked through several religious texts. I’ve done a little research. And the one thing that always holds true is balance. For every god there is a devil. The heroes have their monsters. A villain only exists to oppose the good one. All except for the Pit.

“Demons pour out of that place without consequence, without any sort of good to combat it save the people that are its prey. Am I just that? Predator and prey, mixed together to bring forth someone who isn’t either?”

Glibolg didn’t have a real answer. He stared back into the room at two women trapped without any sense of what the key may be. Mimir help him, what was he here for?

The Pit did affect the world. And he had heard of other priests, lamenting its nature. Adversaries without opposition, running rampant in a world that held no defense. The Aesir and Vanir each dealt with these threats in their own manner. Mimir typically ignored the troubles. Demons did not affect the well or knowledge, in spite of themselves.

Still…there must be some reason he was here. Glibolg kneeled down, and clenched his fist. He prayed for one last insight for this warrior woman. His fist burned, and flashed open. Blood dripped from his hand.

The half-giant smiled, and used the blood to draw the image that burned through his mind. “Mimir shall not help you, Kait Demonborn. But he will point the way.”

He stood up, and motioned towards the bloody symbol. “Find those that hold this in reverence, and you shall find the answers you seek.”

Kait stared. A crescent moon, with a cross held in its arms. At the center of the cross was a six-pointed star.

“What is this?” she asked. She had never seen this sort of religion.

Glibolg had already left the room. Kait stood up and ran to the door. The giant man was gone without a trace.

Kait frowned, and closed the door.

When she awoke the sun was warm and bright. The snows that had been promised the night before had not come.

Kait saddled up her horse, strapped Lila in and was gone before the sun barely crested over the mountains. She didn’t have a heading, or any sense of real direction.

But she had a goal. That was enough.