by Matt Larkin
Every so often they tested the defenses, Freki and Geri had both reported several half-hearted attempts to gain the walls. Tyr held them off, but that couldn’t last forever.
“Until the wolves locate their leader,” Baldr said. The boy was laying on his back, seeming scarcely interested in the conversation.
Thor grunted, turned his gaze on Loki. “We should’ve killed her back then.”
“What would you risk to save your child?” Loki asked.
More than he could put in words, which was why Magni was here by Thor’s side and not in the fortress. Thrúd had joined the Ás forces to the north, though, and Thor longed to bring her here where he could watch over her. She’d suffered more than anyone ought to, and still he couldn’t stop her from being a warrior.
“Are we going to lose?” Magni asked, the question seeming to bubble up from nowhere, as if it had been roiling within him from all the moons they’d spent here.
Thor looked at him sharply—such thoughts invited disaster—but he wasn’t looking at Thor. No, he’d addressed the question to Loki. Everyone knew the man saw glimpses of the future. Which was the only reason Thor stopped himself from chiding the boy.
Loki, he looked more weary than Thor ever remembered seeing him, and he took a long time in answering. “Eventually.”
Thor stared at him, sure he’d misheard or misunderstood. But Loki said naught more, and he and Sigyn lay down to sleep, huddled close to together.
Did the man mean they’d eventually lose this battle? The war? Ragnarok, that Father so feared? Or did Loki imply they would lose something else entirely, something Thor hadn’t even considered?
Thor’s head hurt. And those spots were swimming before his vision once more.
The summer grew late and still Baldr would not order them to attack. “Attack where?” Thor’s brother had asked, pointing out that all they had before them now were dozens upon dozens of jotunn war bands, with no sense of where their true leader lay.
Narfi had stubbornly refused to reveal himself, nor fall into Baldr’s trap. So instead, Thor and other Ás warriors sat on their arses while men died.
“There’s one obvious answer,” Sigyn said without prompting.
It was late in the afternoon and the mist was chokingly thick, allowing Thor to see no more than ten feet ahead of him despite the daylight.
Baldr scowled at her. “Answer to what?”
“The reason you cannot seem to outsmart or outmaneuver your cousin.”
That, even Thor could guess. Narfi was cleverer than Baldr, and they’d all wasted their time.
“He’s inherited some level of his father’s gift of the Sight,” Sigyn said. “You cannot outmaneuver a seer.”
“Except with a stronger seer,” Loki said, and turned slowly to the southwest.
A weathered figure in a wide-brimmed hat stepped out of the mist, leaning heavily upon a walking stick.
Thor leapt to his feet. “Father.”
The man nodded first at Thor, then at Baldr and the others. “You haven’t so very much time left. Skadi has returned to the fortress at the breach, leaving Narfi to lead the siege upon Gardariki.”
Thor grunted. “We haven’t been able to find him.”
His father looked to him. “He anticipates your attempt to corner him and so he’s kept on the move, hopping from one war band to the next so you cannot locate a center of command. But I can tell you where he’ll be three days hence.” His father knelt and drew a map in the sand with his stick, one centered around Lake Ilmajarvi. “Here, a day’s march from your location.”
“Then we’ll hit his war band and crush their leadership,” Thor said.
Baldr grumbled something under his breath and Thor looked sharply to him. His brother just shook his head. “A frontal assault on a war band of jotunnar isn’t like to end well for us, even if we won. If we make an attack that looks genuine and then retreat, though, Narfi might attempt to pursue us into the woods.”
“You have to account for his prescient insight,” Sigyn said. “He’s not going to just walk into a trap.”
Loki sighed. “He might if I choose the location.”
“Why?” Thor asked. “What difference does that make? Won’t he know what you’ve chosen?”
Loki and Father exchanged a glance that Thor couldn’t begin to guess the import of. “Prescience accounts for itself,” Loki finally said.
“Huh?” Magni asked, saving Thor the trouble.
It was Father who answered though. “When the Sight is literal rather than symbolic, the only visions an oracle can behold are those where we cannot, or at the very least, will not alter the course of events. Whatever is revealed is what will happen in spite of, or because of, what we’ve seen. That is the true web of urd. Oracles are bound to fate, in some ways even more so than those who blunder blindly through time.”
Magni cleared his throat. “I think ‘huh’ was maybe not a strong enough way of expressing my confusion.”
Loki let a hand fall on the boy’s shoulder. “Imagine a duel. You watch your opponent’s moves and react to them, yes?” Magni shrugged. “At the same time, your opponent is reacting to your moves, oft before you make them. A challenge of wits as much as of might. When two oracles come into conflicting ends, their prescient insights may cancel one another simply because any vision that would have allowed one to act on the other might have been prevented by the visions of the other. That other cannot receive those visions, however, because if he were able to act upon them, it would create a paradox that the timeline cannot abide. So instead, each oracle is essentially rendered blind by the other.”
Magni grunted, looking from his grandfather to Loki and back. “That doesn’t make the tiniest bit of sense.”
In truth, Thor didn’t much disagree with his son.
Sigyn rolled her eyes. “What matters is this. Loki and I will be waiting in the forest with the ambush. Narfi won’t be able to predict our location because Loki will be there limiting the reach of Narfi’s Sight. The reverse will also be true, though. We won’t be able to accurately predict his actions or time of arrival.”
“Either way,” Loki said, “I won’t agree to any of this unless I have everyone’s word that Narfi will not be slain. I will not lose my son.”
Sigyn nodded first, then Geri and Freki. Thor didn’t see much point in arguing, given he’d already spared the boy once. Magni groaned, but nodded, as did Baldr.
Fine then. “So we come to who should make the feint and who should lay the ambush.”
Father stood, stretching his back. “You need me to make the feint for the same reason you need Loki here. Without another oracle blocking his Sight, he might foresee the trap too quickly and have time to pull back his forces. Besides, if need be, I can disappear with an ease few of you can match.”
Baldr looked to Freki. “The wolves will be fastest.”
“We’ll need more than three people to make it seem real,” Thor pointed out.
Baldr nodded. “So I’ll send for jotunnar from Hymir. They can push the attack, maybe even see it through, only falling back if things turn against us.”
“I can go as well,” Sigyn said. “The swan cloak means I can escape the battle like Odin.”
Loki frowned at that suggestion, but he didn’t object. Maybe he’d even foreseen it. Who even knew how the Sight worked? Thor swore he understood less now than he had before they’d tried to explain it.
Either way, it seemed like he’d finally get the chance to finish what he should’ve done all those years ago.
29
Fifteen Years Ago
There were nine jotunnar in the great hall, and all had fixed their gaze upon Thor. He’d have preferred better odds than this. Him and Loki against nine didn’t seem like to end well. Still, there wasn’t much to do now save charge in. He’d come this far.
Roaring, Thor surged forward, dashed around one jotunn, and dodged the next in his headlong rush toward Thrym.
The clos
er he drew, the bigger that bastard king seemed. His skin had turned blue as a glacier and frost billowed forth with each of his breaths. He wore skull-shaped armored plates on his knees, shins, and forearms, and was otherwise draped in mammoth hide. His teeth were like fangs. By the Tree, his whole aspect seemed rather too canine for Thor’s liking. Jotunnar got like that by eating man-flesh.
One more crime Thor would have to pay him back for.
Thrym didn’t heft Mjölnir, rather taking up a sword half again as tall as Thor. Roaring, the jotunn king surged forward with terrible speed. Thor flung himself to the ground, skidding by as the sword whooshed over his head like a gale. He’d barely managed to regain his footing before the jotunn brought the blade back around again.
Thor dashed between the jotunn’s legs and dove into a roll, coming up behind him.
From the corner of his eye he caught Loki beset by at least three jotunnar and possibly trying to bar the door, Thor couldn’t really tell. Either way, it meant a good number of the creatures were probably closing in on him as well.
Drawing all the strength he could from the apple, he slammed a fist in the back of Thrym’s thigh. The blow made the jotunn stumble, just a little. Thor narrowly avoided getting kicked as the massive creature twisted about, trying to get a line of attack on him. It took all Thor had to keep moving and avoid getting flattened.
Screams filled the hall, the captives adding to the chaos and most like actually serving to help Thor’s situation by generally getting in the way. Thor dodged about, wending his way around Thrym. Any swipe from that sword would end him, so he needed to stay ahead—
Thrym’s knee caught him in the face and sent him hurtling through the air. Even through the power the apple granted, his vision turned hazy. He slammed down on the floor, hard, almost losing his grip on the apple’s strength. Ow.
Bad plan.
This was a bad plan.
Thor struggled gain his feet. Another jotunn plowed into him, a creature half again his size. The impact might have sent him flying once more, but Thor wrapped his arms around the jotunn’s waist. Roaring, he planted his feet and heaved, managing to heft the flailing jotunn over his head. Not so very strong without its feet on the ground, was it? Screaming, he bent backward until he could drop the jotunn head-first on the stone floor.
Something crunched, whether the ground or the jotunn’s spine, he couldn’t say. Either way, Thor rolled to the side as yet another of the creatures closed in on him. By the damn Tree, he needed that hammer!
None of these other jotunnar had weapons though. Maybe they hadn’t thought to need them for what they’d planned with the women. The creature lunged at him. Thor darted away from the jotunn’s wild swings. He came up under the creature’s reach and caught it with a right hook to its knee. The jotunn shrieked and toppled over.
An instant later, Thor flung himself to the side as Thrym’s hideous sword descended. The blade cleaved into the other jotunn with a meaty thwack. The king bellowed, planting his foot on his dead follower’s body to jerk his sword free.
Panting, Thor used the chance to make a break for the throne where Mjölnir still rested. Run. He drew as much power as he could from the apple—he could feel it dwindling inside him, making each breath more difficult—and pushed it into his legs. Snarling, he leapt up onto the seat of the throne, catching Mjölnir’s haft in the process.
At once, a rush of fresh energy surged through him. Power drawn from whatever source had forged this mighty weapon. Grinning, Thor spun back to watch as Thrym charged him.
“Rules are different now,” Thor said, still panting.
That giant sword descended on him. Bellowing, Thor swung Mjölnir to intercept the blade. The hammer itself seemed to roar as it flew upward. It collided with the sword with a crash of thunder. Bolts of lightning shot up along Thrym’s blade and into his arm, the blast enough to send him tumbling away. He landed face down, with tendrils of smoke rising up off his scorched arm.
Everything had stopped. The women had fallen silent. The jotunnar had ceased closing in on him.
Thor hopped off the throne and hefted Mjölnir high. “Let the feast begin!”
He’d never quite understood how Mjölnir had developed its power to release lightning on a blow. But it had built and built over the past years. Now, Thor was the one charging a jotunn. The creature swung a clumsy haymaker at Thor’s head.
Ducking under that, Thor slammed Mjölnir into the jotunn’s ribs with another thunderclap and a rush of lightning that coruscated up the creature’s body and came crackling out of its mouth in billowing smoke. Blackened, the jotunn crumpled to the ground. To be certain, Thor dropped to one knee and brought his hammer down to splatter the creature’s skull.
“Is that all you’ve got, wretches?” he shouted.
Another creature rushed in—this one had found a man-sized club somewhere—and tried to flatten Thor. After sidestepping that, Thor swung Mjölnir at the club. The wood exploded as if a bolt of lightning had hit a tree. It sent slivers of wood punching into Thor’s arm, but Mjölnir helped him block the pain. A worry for later.
The jotunn, though, stood gaping at its smoldering club and the splinters now embedded in its hide. Thor kicked it in the knee and swung Mjölnir in an uppercut that exploded its head and sent brains and gore raining down over him.
“I don’t even need pants to kill you trollfuckers!”
Thrym had regained his feet and came plodding at Thor in a mad dash, having abandoned his damaged sword.
All right then. Thor grinned at the charging jotunn king. He was going to evade and—
A meaty hand slapped him and sent him soaring through the air. He slammed into the back wall, lost his wind and his grip on Mjölnir, and crashed down onto the floor with an impact that left him dazed and breathless.
Dimly, he heard the crash of thunder. Blinking, he tried to clear his vision, but it was like the mist had somehow seeped into the fortress. Everything so blurry … everything shifting.
“Thor!” That was his uncle Loki’s voice.
More thunder, and now sparks of lightning, and the stench of cooked flesh.
Loki had Mjölnir and had beaten down a jotunn—no, two of them—with it. They lay in broken, burnt heaps, smoke rising from their misshapen corpses.
“Thor!” Loki shouted again.
And then Mjölnir was flying at him. Thor caught the tossed hammer an instant before Thrym snatched him up, his massive hand wrapped around Thor’s waist. The jotunn king held Thor aloft, squeezing.
Everything went dim at the edges once more, and even with the apple’s power, Thor’s ribs were cracking. The angle was wrong, but still he brought Mjölnir down on Thrym’s arm, sending bolts of lightning crashing all around. The creature bellowed, yet somehow his grip tightened.
Couldn’t … breathe …
Thor brought Mjölnir down again, but it felt limp in his hands. His fingers had opened … hammer falling from …
A crash on the floor. Stones split.
More screaming.
A blow slammed into Thor’s chest and his whole body seized up, naught responding to his will. Thrym crashed down to one knee and released Thor. He pitched to the ground and lay convulsing for a moment.
Again, Loki was handing him Mjölnir. Again, its power seeped into him.
Thor finally managed to draw a breath. A ragged, painful breath that felt like he sucked it through ashes. Must’ve gotten hit by the lightning when Loki struck Thrym. And still the jotunn was trying to gain his feet.
Why wouldn’t he just fucking die?
Gasping in agony, Thor swung the hammer upward. The motion sent fresh pain lancing through his ribs. It also crashed into Thrym’s jaw, shattering bone and, as lightning coursed through his head, sending wolf-fangs shooting out. Roaring in a vain attempt to drown out his own pain, Thor hefted Mjölnir and brought it down twice more upon Thrym’s skull. The second time, blood and bits of bone exploded up around him.
The sati
sfaction of that helped ease his pain. A little.
He dropped to his knees, arm around his throbbing ribs. By the Tree! Gah! Breathing was torture.
Jotunn had damn nigh turned him to a pulp back there.
Two more had gathered round. Come to think of it, someone was beating against the doors. Loki must’ve barred them, but that wouldn’t hold long. They were going to die, weren’t they? He’d killed Thrym, but they were still going to die.
“There’s got to be a window out of here somewhere,” Loki said. “We find it and don the cloaks, we can fly clear.”
Oh. Well damn. Thor had forgotten entirely about the cloaks.
One of the jotunn warriors was struggling to rise.
“Kill him with Mjölnir,” Loki said.
Not that Thor minded killing jotunnar, but he had to wonder why Loki would bother worrying about one who could barely stand. After casting a confused look at his uncle, Thor trudged over to the jotunn and smashed in his skull with another explosion of lightning. Yes, satisfying. Enough to make the pain a little less.
Loki moved to his side and pointed to a door.
Thor nodded and made for it, though each step hurt. Loki trotted ahead—come to think of it, the man looked badly battered himself—and flung it open. Beyond, a jotunn female charged out, thrusting a spear at Loki. The man caught the shaft when it ought to have impaled him and twisted it around, slamming a palm into her elbow.
The jotunn woman shrieked, dropping her weapon and stumbling away. Loki surged in and kicked her feet out from under her. “Kill her too.”
Sure. Why not? Thor trudged over and ended her with Mjölnir, then breathed once more, the pain seeming far away now. His second wind was on him, it seemed.
Together they made their way down the hall and into another chamber, this one filled with a half dozen jotunn women, including one sitting on what Thor assumed must be a throne. And a large window letting in the mist, some ten feet off the ground.
“Skadi,” Loki said.
The blue-tinged woman rose, her gaze shifting from Thor to Loki and back. A satisfying hint of fear fell over her face. So this was Skadi, the so-called Winter Queen. Some claimed she’d married Thrym.
