Gameboard of the Gods (Age of X, #1)(166)

“I need a search,” Justin said to his screen before he even reached his chair. “I need all references to the phrase ‘thought and memory.’”

The screen complied with frustrating detail, far too many hits to begin to parse. He drummed his fingers against the desk.

“Filter the search by religious and mythological contexts.”

That narrowed the list considerably. In fact, the only results left pertained to one subject. He brought up the first hit, which was a basic encyclopedic entry:


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In Norse mythology, the god Odin (Wodan in German contexts) is accompanied by two ravens, Huginn (Thought) and Muninn (Memory), who advise him and report what they learn about the world.



Justin felt mildly ill. He was familiar with stories of Odin, who frequently appeared with other Norse gods when Nordic and Scandinavian castes decided to attempt some revivalist religion. Odin was a major enough god that every servitor had a working knowledge of him. Justin had always thought he did as well, but apparently, he’d been lacking a particularly important detail about the god’s choice of companions, a detail that certain invisible birds could’ve helpfully enlightened him about.

“Give me a full compilation about the Norse god Odin,” ordered Justin. “Attributes, primary sources, and general folklore.”

The screen complied, and with every line he read, Justin felt as though the world was starting to crumble beneath him.





Odin, or “All Father,” is a Norse god of the ?sir associated with wisdom, cunning, knowledge, war and battle, magic, and death. He is usually accepted as the king of the Norse gods.



Odin made many sacrifices for his wisdom. He gave up his eye in order to drink from Mimisbrunnr, the well of wisdom. He also hung himself from the world tree Yggdrasil in order to master the runes, which impart insight into the present and future.



“I need an image of the runes.” Justin already knew what he’d see.

The screen displayed a set of symbols, each labeled with a name. Most were nonsensical, save for one he knew very well since he saw it on his own skin every day. He asked the screen to identify it: Ansuz—a rune with disputed meanings that is generally associated with the ?sir gods, particularly Odin. Near it, Justin saw algiz, the protective rune the ravens had taught him.

On and on it went, and Justin saw pieces of his life play out before him. He read everything he could find, and after a while, he started reading the same information over and over. His eyesight grew bleary, and he was about to finally call it a day when one line caught his eye:

Odin is also accompanied by two wolves, Geri and Freki.

“Clear the search,” he told the screen. “And call Demetrius Devereaux.”

Geraki answered after only a couple of seconds, and Justin wondered if he’d been waiting for the call like some eager teenage girl.

“Did you get a guy with a glass eye to come mess with me and start dropping flowers and hints about the ravens?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. I must not be smart enough to keep up with your razor-sharp brain.”

Throwing something at the screen wasn’t going to improve this situation, so Justin took a deep breath and tried to backtrack. “A man talked to me at a bar today. He had one eye and went off about the pursuit of knowledge. He gave me the same crap you do about Mae being so awesome, and then he went and talked to her about ‘thought and memory’ and gave her something only I knew about. Did you set it up?” Justin demanded. “Did you get someone to do this?”

Geraki looked completely dumbfounded, which would have been enjoyable under different circumstances. Understanding suddenly hit. His eyes widened in awe, and his cheeks flushed.

“He appeared to you! How? Why? You’ve done nothing but show disrespect, while I serve faithfully, but you’re the one he comes to in the flesh?” A moment later, Geraki closed his eyes and looked pained. “I shouldn’t have said that. I have no right to question my god’s actions. I’m only here to listen to his voice.”

“You can say his name now,” said Justin bitterly. “Odin.”

Geraki opened his eyes. “You know his name?”

“Yeah, it took like five seconds with a stream search. Why would a Norse god come after me? Why not someone like Mae? You said they gravitate to people with the same heritage.”

“You have the blood of a dozen cultures in you, and one of them is probably from that region.” Religious rambling was Geraki’s specialty, and he seemed to be at ease back in familiar territory. “That, and I told you, a wise and clever god needs a priest with those same qualities.”

“I’m not his priest. I’m not even a follower.”

Geraki smiled in a way that reminded Justin of those frustrating yearly investigations. “No, but you’re about to become his student. I asked what it’d take to make you learn. A name and a face, you said. You got those things. You shouldn’t have gotten them, but you did.”

Justin faltered. He had kind of said that.

“Learning isn’t the same as serving or swearing devotion,” he told Geraki.

“No, but it’s an important step along the way—and don’t try to dodge this time.”

Justin had, of course, been trying to think of how to dodge it. How could he be so stupid? He’d been so, so careful with Mae, only to stumble into some sort of divine apprenticeship.