Our country was founded two and a half centuries ago by men who served the old gods of Scandia. We need them, people say. They wait always at the edges of our stories, to nudge an election one way or another, to turn away natural disaster, to rebuild, to inspire kindness or bolster fury.

My mom used to tell me that Loki Shapeshifter sometimes drives an ice-cream truck in the town where she grew up. I see photos in Os Weekly of Freyr the Satisfied walking down a red carpet with starlets on his arm, or of Thor Thunderer standing over the broken body of a mountain troll that ventured into a Montania town and slaughtered a family in their own home. I see Odin the Alfather on TV visiting the House of Congress to give his approval to a controversial gun law. Frigg cuts the ribbon at a new hospital wing.

Our gods are splattered throughout our lives, but none of them is so well loved as Baldur the Beautiful.

Baldur, the god of light, who dies at the end of every summer, only to rise again at winter’s end. He who gives himself to Hel for six months of every year, but who lives harder and more brightly in the time he has with us on earth.

He is the only god who dies at all.

And that makes him the one most like us.

˜ The Weight of Stars, Book One of The Songs of New Asgard.

Welcome to New Asgard

Be sure to watch for troll-sign

In Book One, Soren is the lonely son of an infamous berserk warrior, who only wishes to ignore the battle-fever in his heart and be normal. Astrid’s mother was a famous seer, and she wants to use her own prophetic dreams to change the world.

When Baldur the Beautiful goes missing, the two teens take off on a road trip to find their lost god. Along the way, they encounter zealots and trickster gods, undead soldiers and sadistic field trolls. To survive, they’ll have to choose between loyalty and destiny, and learn to have faith in themselves.