Antonia van Zandt has a new novel out based on old Norse legends and what a lovely, lovely cover:
Bask in the beauty because what comes next might send shivers down your spine. I'm passing you over to Antonia:
I love
the old Norse legends. In fact I’m a big fan of the mythical heritage of many
cultures and it never ceases to amaze me how many races of people, thousands of
miles apart, built up traditions which are remarkably similar. Even though
their means of transportation - at the time these stories were first told - would
not have lent itself to such far distant travel. Coincidence? Or something a
little more mystical perhaps…
My novel
– Freya’s Choice – features some
characters from Norse mythology. Freya of course, and Odin – and one who may be
less famous, but at least as colourful. Her name is Hel and she was a daughter
of the most mischievous of all the gods – Loki. Her siblings were a wolf and a
serpent. Not a great start to life.
She
features in a number of ancient Icelandic sagas – most notably the Poetic Edda, The Prose Edda (both 13th
century) and the much earlier (10th century) Egil’s Saga. So, who was she?
Hel was
not someone you would take home to meet your great-aunt. She was of a most
gloomy, downcast, even fierce, manner and her appearance was enough to frighten
the strongest character. In fact Odin took one look at her and threw her out of
Asgard (the realm of the gods). He put her in charge of the realm of the dead,
which bears her name. To ‘go to Hel’ means - literally - to die. Hel was one of
the nine worlds surrounding the great tree of Yggdrasil, which spanned the
distance between the underworld and the heavens. Hel lay under one of its three
great roots and its supreme eponymous ruler had charge of the dead the gods did
not want. Those who died of sickness and old age found themselves there, and Hel
was charged with providing them with food and lodging. Her realm was guarded by
a great dog (similar to the Graeco-Roman Cerberus).
In her
realm Hel had great mansions, extremely high walls and massive gates. She had a
knife called ‘Famine’ and a dish called ‘Hunger’. The entrance to her realm was
known as, ‘Stumbling Block’ and her bed was called ‘Sick-bed’ and its hangings
- ‘Glimmering Misfortune’.
Her
appearance could have sprung straight from a horror movie. Hel’s upper body was
half black and half pink coloured, but from her hips downward, her skin was greenish-black
and decayed like a corpse’s, so you would certainly know her when you saw her! She
had two servants who moved with agonising slowness – a speed only matched by
the slow delivery of Hel’s speech. But all of this is not really surprising for
a giantess who was herself half alive and half dead.
For all
her apparent slowness of wits, Hel could be canny when she had a mind to be. When
the god, Baldr, died and passed into her domain, his brother, Hermod, came to
plead for his return. He said all the nine worlds mourned his brothers passing.
Hel thought about it and oh so slowly, spoke her mind. She would return Baldr –
but only if every single person, animal and substance in all of the nine worlds
cried at his passing.
Hermod
returned to Asgard and relayed Hel’s words. Soon everything in all the worlds cried
for Baldr – fire wept, iron sobbed, every living thing mourned. Except one. In
a cave, sat a giantess calling herself Thökk, and she refused to cry. Instead
she said,
“Let Hel hold
to that she hath!”
And so
she did. But all the gods and goddesses knew who Thökk really was - the evil
and mischievous Loki in disguise. There to protect his daughter’s interests? Or
just up to his usual mischief? I’ll leave that to you to decide.
Hel has a
role to play in my novel. But that’s another story…
Freya’s Choice is published by Amber
Quill Press.
Here’s the blurb:
Nothing
much happens in Abbey St. Francis, but Freya’s about to change all that...
Eve
Lawson is no stranger to heartbreak. Three years ago, the man of her dreams
betrayed her and left her unwilling to trust anyone ever again. So when
gorgeous hunky farmer, Mark Latimer, starts to take more than a casual interest
in her, she is cautious and nervous of committing either her mind or her body
to him. But the attraction is there, and it’s growing. All Eve needs is just a
little more time.
Abbey St.
Francis—a sleepy, pretty village where nothing much happens and traditional
values are held true—has been Eve’s home all her life. No one suspects that the
beautiful young woman who has just moved into West Lodge is anything other than
a wealthy and generous benefactor. But Freya Nordstrom is not what she appears
to be.
Then the
mysterious stranger takes more than a passing interest in Mark, and Eve knows
she has a battle on her hands. But never in her wildest dreams could Eve have
imagined the nature of the forces stacked against her...
And here’s a short
extract:
...A loud
flapping startled me. I looked up and couldn’t believe what I saw. The most
massive bird I had ever seen flew past me and hovered, silhouetted against the
moon. Then it flew directly toward West Lodge. I glanced back down at the cats.
Their ears twitched, but nothing more. I searched the sky for the giant bird
again, but it had disappeared. Could I have imagined it? Surely not. I
certainly wasn’t imagining those cats or the malevolence in their eyes.
My knees
buckled from my unaccustomed crouching position, but I was scared to make any
rapid movement, and Freya’s cats continued to stare at me. Their eyes narrowed,
as if at any moment they would pounce and tear me to shreds. But their hackles
didn’t rise, they didn’t arch their backs, spit or make any of the warning
gestures cats employ to let you know they’re about to strike. They just sat
there, like statues. Waiting.
My knees
ached and I had no choice or I would simply keel over. Slowly, I rose to my
feet, wobbling with the effort, while I kept my eyes on the animals.
Their
gaze traveled upward with my movement. A chill wound itself around my spine,
spiraling the length of it, and I shivered.
Then, as
if receiving some signal I couldn’t hear, they blinked in unison and turned
away. They slunk down my path before jumping over the wall and out of sight. I
continued to watch and, in the light of the streetlamp at the bottom of Freya’s
drive, saw them emerge and pad slowly up her long drive. They matched each
other step for step, their tails held high.
Then I
saw a tall figure striding down Freya’s drive toward me. He passed the cats,
apparently without acknowledging their presence. Too dark and far away to make
out his features, my heart still lurched.
Mark. I could
see the familiar long hair fanning his shoulders, the white shirt and dark
pants. Tears pricked my eyes. At that moment, I wished with all my heart I
hadn’t seen him. It couldn’t be happening again. Surely he wouldn’t betray me
as John had. After all he’d said to me. And I’d believed every word.
So Freya
had been telling the truth. Somewhere along the line she’d made his
acquaintance, and now I knew why he hadn’t answered his phone. He’d been with
her.
I told
myself to calm down. There could be a hundred innocent explanations for his
visit. But unless I asked him, I wouldn’t know. I hurried down my path and
opened the gate.
“Mark!
Hi!” I hoped I sounded nonchalant, but a note of desperation had crept into my
voice.
He
reached the end of her drive and turned left. He was directly opposite me now,
in shadows, on the other side of the lane. Any second and he would cross over.
“Mark!”
He must
have heard me, but not a flicker. He never broke his stride. Just carried on
walking, farther down the lane, away from me, while I stood and watched him, my
insides turning to mush in dismayed disbelief...
You can buy Freya’s Choice here:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble
ARe
About Antonia:
Antonia van Zandt has been writing since someone stuck a pencil in
her hand at the age of around five. Sick of finding their wallpaper covered in
scribbles, her parents relented and bought her an exercise book. This was the
beginning of a trend. At the age of nine she progressed to her first
typewriter, and can now spend hours happily tapping away at her keyboard while
all around her descends into chaos. She has recently made the transition from
writing erotica to paranormal adventure, with some pretty heavyweight Norse
gods thrown in for good measure. She adores cats, fine wine and dramatic
scenery. Freya’s Choice is her first
novel for Amber Quill.
You can connect with
Antonia here:
