Gods of Fire and Thunder (Saberhagens Book of the Gods 5)

It is the gold that tempts Hal to agree, against his better judgment, to assist the youth in his quest.

But to find away past the fiery wall, they must first brave gnomes, ghosts, and the wrath of the gods themselves. For a mighty battle is brewing, and Hal soon finds himself caught up in a celestial conflict between Thor the Thunderer, Loki the Trickster, and, most powerful of all, Wodan, the merciless Lord of Battles! Hardcover , pages. Book of the Gods 5.

To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about Gods of Fire and Thunder , please sign up. Be the first to ask a question about Gods of Fire and Thunder. Lists with This Book. Gods of Fire and Thunder is a solid, if unmemorable, fantasy tale. The tale draws you in and makes you want to keep reading, and all of the hallmarks of a good story are present. The characters are relatable, consistent, have clear motivations, develop believably, and surprise just enough to keep the work entertaining.

The writing overall is excellent although a little overdone at times, particularly in the descriptions , the dialogue flows nicely, and the plot, while certainly not ground-break Gods of Fire and Thunder is a solid, if unmemorable, fantasy tale. There are not too many major characters, which limits the complexity of the conflicts but, although the pacing starts slow, it picks up nicely between the quarter and halfway marks and never relents.

I found the ending to be somewhat abrupt, as if the author either considered the final battle to be more of a footnote to the main story, or perhaps simply got tired of writing the book, but it is not so jarring as to ruin the remainder of the work. As I mentioned above, however, probably the best word I could use to describe it is unmemorable.

I enjoyed reading it as I went along, but did not have much to say about it afterwards and it did not linger in my mind for very long. Interesting, but not really my cup of tea. Found the knowledge more interesting than the story line. Aug 10, Jordan rated it it was ok. Decent fantasy based on Norse mythology.

A good enough "time waster," but nothing profound. Jamie rated it it was amazing Jul 14, Janet Morse rated it it was amazing Nov 28, Pierce rated it really liked it Nov 16, Tom rated it it was amazing Jul 15, David LaMotte rated it it was ok Jun 19, Reid rated it it was amazing Nov 23, Apollo rated it it was ok Sep 19, Michele rated it really liked it Jan 07, Robert Blackwell rated it it was amazing Apr 18, Todd Ross rated it liked it Nov 02, John rated it it was amazing Jan 08, Josh Bullock rated it it was amazing Jul 16, Briggs rated it really liked it Apr 07, John Buter rated it liked it Mar 17, Paul DeNorch rated it liked it Jan 14, Asif Abul Kalam rated it really liked it Mar 19, Omaruhiro rated it liked it Mar 24, Jared Ober rated it liked it Jan 02, On reaching the place where he had decided to spend the night, he made his simple preparations for settling in.

Winter was definitely coming on in this part of the world, but this close to the great mysterious burning a man ought to be able to stay comfortably warm. In his preliminary scouting Hal had discovered what he thought would be an ideal spot to sleep, on a small saddle of raised land almost as high as the burning crag, and separated from it by only thirty yards or so. There the generous Fates, as if feeling some concern for the weary traveler, had caused soft moss to grow upon a handy patch of soil. On this bed Hal now lay down wrapped in his cloak, shadowed by a small outcropping of rock from almost all the direct light of the untiring fire.

Still, by moving his head only a little from side to side, he could see a large part of the slope to his right and left, brightly lit by the fire above. He ought to be able to get a good look at anything or anyone that appeared in the area during the night. The traveler's peaceful rest behind the rock had not lasted much more than an hour when some subtle change in his surroundings woke him up. He came awake with the inner certainty that he was no longer quite alone. Opening his eyes, he lay for a few moments without moving, his battle-hatchet ready in his hand beneath the cloak.

Gods of Fire and Thunder by Fred Saberhagen - FictionDB

Nothing and no one had come very near him yet. Cautiously Hal raised his head and from his niche of wavering shadow studied the slope immediately below the flames, first on one side and then the other. In a moment, the figure of a young man had walked into his view, no more than a moderate stone's throw away from Hal, but seemingly unaware of his presence. The fellow was tall and active, dressed in boots, trousers, and a kind of quilted jacket, but wearing no armor except a plain steel helmet that left his almost beardless face exposed.

His movements had a kind of nervous recklessness, as well as the jerkiness of deep exhaustion. At the moment he was certainly not on his guard.

GODS OF FIRE AND THUNDER

A short sword was sheathed at his side, and his clothes were so begrimed and tattered that it was hard to guess whether they had originally been of rich material or poor. This newcomer's attention was entirely centered on the great fire itself, whose gentle roar went on unceasingly. The youth continued a methodical progression, as if he were intent on making his way entirely around the ring of flame, reconnoitering just as Hal had done.

He even seemed to be making the same tentative efforts to approach the burning wall as closely as he could, but of course the heat kept him yards away. Carefully the concealed watcher sat up, peering first around one side of his rock and then the other, to see more of the steep, rough cone of the hillside.

He saw enough to satisfy himself that the young man, who presently reappeared, had come here quite alone. Hal rose to his feet, stretched, adjusted his cloak, seated his hatchet once more in its holster at his belt, and remembered to pick up his horned helmet from where he had set it aside when he lay down to sleep.

Then, feeling as ready as could be for whatever might develop, he stepped out firmly, striding back across the little saddle of land toward the fire. The youth's back was turned to Hal, and his attention remained entirely absorbed in the spectacular wall of flame. When Hal had come within thirty feet without being noticed, he judged it wise to halt and call out a few words of greeting.

The tall lad spun around at once, clapping a hand to the hilt of his sword. Hal was waiting open-handed, arms spread in a sign of peace; but even so he realized that his appearance, that of a powerful armed stranger, could hardly have been very reassuring. Extreme stress and exhaustion were plain also in his young face. My home's hundreds of miles to the north. I was heading that way, following the river, when I saw these flames. After a pause, in which the other did not respond, he went on.

Then, when I had climbed halfway up these rocks, I thought maybe it was a castle or watchtower--not really farming country just along here. But now I'd be willing to bet there's no building at all inside that fire. It's a strange one, isn't it? Certainly it has to be more than natural. They need no fuel to keep them burning. Can't say I'm surprised. I never saw another blaze like this one. The youth had turned slowly round until he had his back almost to Hal and was staring again into the multicolored, undying blaze.

His lips moved slightly, as if he might be whispering a word.

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The man from the far north cleared his throat. And who are you? The tall one turned slowly back. He relaxed slightly, out of sheer weariness it seemed. His hand still rested on his sword's hilt, but as if he had forgotten it was there. Slowly Baldur went on. Hal, exercising patience, grunted and nodded again. Fortune had now blessed him with a chance to talk to a native of these parts, and he didn't want to waste the opportunity. There was information he desired to have. Baldur now gave the impression of nerving himself, gathering energy, to make some serious effort.

Books of the Gods

At last he went on: Hal strolled a few steps closer, and stood with folded arms, looking the young fellow over from head to foot in the fire's clear light. After a moment he raised a couple of stubby fingers to scratch under the rim of his horned helmet. And several others who were seriously dead. But I'd say you don't fit in either category. I once spent several months as shipmate to a god, and never guessed who he was until he told me.

But the youth had no interest in some stranger's tales of adventure. He had the attitude of one with more than enough of his own. His cracking voice grew no easier as he said: When he bent slightly forward, corn-yellow hair fell free, stained and caked with the reddish-brown of old dried blood. Hal grunted again, squinting in the bright, just slightly wavering firelight at the head that loomed above his own.

He saw what little he could see without getting any closer. There had certainly been a copious flow of blood, but it had stopped some time ago. The wound itself was quite invisible under thick hair and clots. The northman renewed his efforts to be soothing. Scalps do tend to bleed a lot. This soothing attitude was not exactly welcome. Baldur's teeth were bared now in a kind of snarl. Head wounds sometimes brought on bizarre ideas and dangerous behavior. Baldur was still staring at him, not so much threatening now as if pleading silently for some kind of help.

After a moment Hal cleared his throat and asked with polite curiosity: After you--as you say-- died? A Valkyrie came flying over the battlefield, to choose a hero from among the dead. Over the past few days he had been doing what he could to find out more. And if I remember correctly what the stories say, the Valkyries are handsome maidens, who come flying over battlefields on their magic Horses--".

His blue eyes glinted wildly in the uncanny wavering of light. Brain damage, thought Hal again, and now he did retreat a pace. But he persisted in his quest for knowledge. He kept his gravelly voice as soft as possible. Go on, tell me more. So you got knocked down, in some kind of battle, and when you woke up, there you were, lying on the ground with your head a bloody mess.

Then this Valkyrie arrived to carry you to Wodan's feasting hall? Isn't that how the story--isn't that what's supposed to happen? Whatever threat had been in him was melting swiftly. She would not take me to Valhalla! It was not an attitude Hal would have expected to see in a man who had pledged himself to a god of war.

But people were always doing unexpected things. The northman cast a swift look around him, to right and left over the curving hillside. It was only a routine precaution. As far as he could tell, he and the agitated youth were still alone. Approaching Baldur more closely, he squatted down in front of him, taking care to stay out of easy lunging distance--just in case. The lovely and respected Brunhild came to visit you when you were killed--and just the sight of her made you feel better.

But then something went wrong, and you were cheated out of a trip to Wodan's glorious feasting hall. After a pause, during which Baldur said nothing, Hal added: Hal had to bend closer to hear the muttered answer: In spite of everything, she took another man instead! He wasn't sure that the effort was worthwhile--but there was the gold he had just stuffed into his belt pouch. Beings who used gold for horseshoes might well be able to contribute a little more of it, even if unknowingly, to the retirement fund of a weary but deserving adventurer.

Perhaps enough to buy him a small farm. Why did your Valkyrie choose him? A cry of agony burst from Baldur's lips, and he sprawled on the earth face down, one arm extended, pointing uphill, directly toward the wall of fire. Now he was screaming. That was an unexpected answer. The case was only becoming more complicated. Or maybe it really was all brain damage.

He decided to keep trying. All right, I think I do begin to see.

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He changed position so that his own back was to the fire, meanwhile automatically scanning his surroundings again, then sat down on the ground more comfortably. Brunhild cheated me of that! He thought things over, shaking his head. So far there had been no mention in the story of any cache of gold, and that was where his interest lay.

But he was curious, as usual, about many things. He pulled a stem of wintry grass, and chewed on the dry fiber. How could there be room for a battle here? Let's go over again what happened. If you don't mind, I'd like to get it all straight. You were struck down in this little battle, and then--". As a courtesy to Wodan, Loki had created a ring of fire, inside which those who offend the gods can be eternally imprisoned. Then I raised my eyes to this cliff, and saw the fire, and knew that it was true. Having finished that speech, Baldur sat up.

Now he seemed to be making a start at pulling himself together; a tough young man, Hal judged, who must have been through a few hellish days, whatever the exact truth might be of what had happened to him. Hal knew from experience how dangerous it could be to interfere with the gods' business. But it would not be the first time in his life he had accepted such a risk. He thought it couldn't hurt to try to learn a little more. Baldur looked mildly shocked. Great Wodan's messengers are the Valkyries. Young women, like Brunhild herself. Another Valkyrie you just happen to know--and how do these girls travel when they go on their errands?

I've heard that they ride magic Horses through the air. Horses' feet are not like those of a cameloid or drom. They have hard hooves, and fairly often their owners fit them with metal shoes. Just nail them on. Then sometimes the shoes come loose. But it was no use now trying to find out what Baldur might know about horseshoes and gold. The youth seemed to be drifting away again, back into his ongoing nightmare of grief and loss. He had regained his feet and was moving restlessly about. He was mumbling now, and in his raving he kept returning to what obsessed him as a great horror and mystery: The way in which he spoke of Brunhild strongly suggested to Hal that Baldur and the Valkyrie were or had been lovers.

Which added to the mystery, of course. Now Baldur was groaning that he had lost both his beloved and his chance at glorious immortality as a member of Wodan's elite guard, one of those chosen to fight beside the Father of Battles in the final terrific conflict, the twilight of the gods at world's end.