The Sleeping Army Read Online Free PDF

the hands of an old woman than a girl. Her nails were bitten.
    â€˜Could the Gods be –
dead
?’ Alfi whispered the last word as if terrified he would be overheard.
    Roskva laughed. ‘The Gods are immortal.’
    â€˜Something’s happened,’ said Alfi.
    â€˜We’ve seen no burial mounds,’ said Roskva.
    â€˜Maybe there was a fire … maybe the Gods have gone somewhere else …’
    â€˜But that doesn’t explain … all this,’ said Roskva.‘This is so much worse … How much time has passed since we were here?’
    Alfi shrugged. ‘How can I answer that?’
    â€˜I know things were bad, but …’ Roskva trailed off.
    â€˜If no one’s here then I’ll be going home,’ said Freya. She felt angry and frightened.
    â€˜You’re going nowhere, hornblower,’ said Roskva.
    â€˜Since when are you my boss?’ said Freya.
    Roskva waved her hands as if she were brushing off an ant.
    â€˜You know nothing, little girl!’ hissed Roskva. ‘You are part of something much bigger than you can imagine.’
    Little girl? Freya opened her mouth to protest.
    â€˜We’ll argue about this later,’ said Roskva. ‘Let’s go to the Well. If any of the Immortals are still here, that’s where they’ll be.’
    â€˜The Gods hold court at the Well of Urd under Yggdrasil every day to pass judgement,’ Alfi told Freya as they walked through the weeds towards the tallest, widest, most enormous tree she’d ever seen or imagined. Dead ivy coiled round its withered trunk. The towering tree hurtled into the heavens higher than she could see, wider than a street of houses, wider than Buckingham Palace. Its leafless branches fanned out across the sky.
    â€˜Roskva and I came here every day with our Master. He lived so far away in Asgard we had to wade across many rivers to get here. But we did it. The Master was always moving, always travelling, always fighting and bellowing. It was hard to keep up with him.’
    They walked to the sacred Well of Fate beneath one of the roots of the world tree. Reverently, Freya brushed her hand along the rough bark of the great ash, which loomed above the holy place of the Gods. Her fingers tingled as she felt the tree’s faint pulse.
    Freya stood in the middle of a circle of intricately carved, ivory-white stones, their seats worn smooth. Tracery lines of runes were etched along the bottom. Moss and grasses grew around them. At the centre was a large pool with glinting blue-black water, nestling under the root of the giant ash tree. A single shaft of sunlight lit up the well.
    There was a hushed silence. Freya felt the power of the place.
    â€˜That’s where the great god Frey sat,’ said Alfi, pointing to the stone seat still decorated with the outline of a giant boar. ‘And that’s the All-Father’s High Seat. His wife Frigg sat beside him. Baldr the Fair and Heimdall over there. And the beautiful goddess Freyja, Frey’s sister, across from Woden andhis wife. Our Master Thor and his wife Sif sat here. Roskva and I stood behind him in case he needed us.’
    Freya walked to the pool and knelt down to peer into the inky depths. She picked up a small stone and was about to drop it in when Roskva gasped and stopped her.
    â€˜That’s a sacred well,’ she said. ‘The Well of Fate. You don’t just throw things in it.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said Freya. She stepped back as if the well had caught fire. ‘I just wanted to see how deep it was.’
    â€˜She didn’t mean any harm,’ said Alfi. ‘Remember when all this was new to you too, Roskva.’
    Roskva scowled. Freya thought for a wild moment how nice it would be to dump Roskva down the well.
    Roskva scooped up a handful of water and sprinkled it on the bark of the giant tree. Yggdrasil shuddered and jolted, and a burst of dark green leaves appeared on the lower