by Matt Larkin
Gunnar put a hand on her shoulder, gentle, as if he still thought she could be his. “Come back with me. Leave over this madness.”
Brynhild favored him with a sneer. “No. I will go from here, back to Heimir and tell him what has happened, and then to Etzel and see how much he values the bonds of kinship. You, dear Gunnar shall watch as all your wealth and glory and power turns to ash.”
“Brynhild—”
“Unless you do as I bid. Kill Sigurd. Kill his wretched son by your sister. Let their line end instead of yours.”
Gunnar pushed himself away from her, stumbling as he tried to gain his feet. “I … I have sworn an oath of brotherhood to Sigurd. He is my blood brother!”
Brynhild shrugged. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Being forced to break one oath because of another? Being driven to do dark deeds you’d not have dreamed yourself capable of? Your treachery, your deceit subverted my oath and made me your wife. It seems fitting I should repay you both in kind. Or deny me, if you wish. See if my vision comes to pass. I do not think the world would mourn the passing of the Niflungar.”
Hand to his mouth, her husband backed away into the mist. To the last, he stared at her as if he had no idea who she was.
Which was true. When he had claimed her hand by his tricks, he clearly had not the first clue as to whom he was so wronging.
Gunnar’s face was pale when he called in Hogne. Brynhild sat grim-faced in Gunnar’s chamber, while her husband explained her demands to his brother. She forced herself to remain motionless as Hogne gaped at her, shaking his head.
“I gave my blood oath to Sigurd,” Gunnar said. “I cannot break such an oath. I cannot strike against him.”
Hogne finally shut his mouth, his look turning hateful. “Let the woman leave you then. You can do better.”
“No!” The vehemence in Gunnar’s objection caught Brynhild off-guard, though she forced herself to remain still. If they thought she might relent they’d never carry out her wishes. And she had sworn her own oaths now. “No,” the king repeated. “We have to do it. We kill him, claim the wealth he took from the dragon. With such power, men will beg us for our sister’s hand.”
Gudrun. The noxious bitch deserved to die herself, but Gunnar would never have agreed to that. Besides, perhaps the greater torment for her would come from seeing her world burn.
Hogne shook his head. “I also swore an oath of friendship to Sigurd. We’d have to send our warriors to do it.”
Gunnar groaned. “Sigurd would slaughter them like sheep. He is nigh invincible, as you well know.”
“Then I ask you again, let this go. It’s not fitting for us to break our oaths. Your wife brings all this about. Cast her aside.”
Brynhild’s fingers closed around her sword. It was so very tempting to slay him, but still, her best, greatest vengeance would not come by cutting down Hogne.
Gunnar swallowed. “We made oaths to him … but Guthorm never did.”
Brynhild pursed her lips. She’d heard of their half-brother in rumor only, for he never showed his face in the court, and spoke to no one. Of those rumors, some even claimed he had died long ago, and yet rose. A draug. But Brynhild little cared if they used a ghost to enact her will.
Hogne cast another hate-filled glare Brynhild’s way. “This is madness, brother. Even if Guthorm succeeds, you think we will pay no price for it? For betraying a man like Sigurd, famed throughout the North Realms?”
“One of us …” Gunnar blanched, then set his jaw. “One of us must die.”
Hogne sighed, but shook his head. “So be it. Tell me what I must do.”
41
The Aesir had made their camp upon the glacier where Thor had once fought Hrungnir. Being back here was enough to make his head start pounding, but it was as close as they could get to Skadi’s fortress at the breach without engaging the jotunn army. So, almost a city of tents spread out across the plateau.
A year spent hunting down Skadi’s armies had taken its toll on so many. Hundreds of Aesir were dead, and thousands of Bjarmalanders with them. Even Thor’s uncle Annar had fallen not a fortnight ago.
It would end soon, though. The jotunnar were breaking. The better part of all Aesir were here now. Not Father—no, he hadn’t shown himself in the year since his argument with Thor. Hard to say if that was for the best or no. With both Father and Loki gone, they had no oracle to provide advanced warning of the enemy tactics.
Instead, Tyr had taken command of the armies. That suited Thor well enough—he preferred to be well in the thick of it, where commanding others wasn’t half possible. Instead, he kept a close few Aesir with him.
Geri and Hermod served as their scouts. Thor had always thought Hermod blamed him for Sif’s death, but the man had volunteered to join Thor’s war band and Thor could scarce turn away his father-in-law. Besides, Father had given him a runeblade, and with it, Hermod seemed almost unstoppable.
At present, Thor sat in his tent with Thrúd and Magni, whom Mother had granted an apple not so very long ago. They both had received one, or Thor wouldn’t have agreed to their presence here. Thrúd still bore the burn scars on her face, a constant reminder of Hödr’s treachery. Every time Thor looked on his beautiful daughter’s torment, all he saw was Mjölnir crushing Hödr’s skull. Actually, first he’d crush the man’s stones for the rape. Then he’d crush his skull for the torture.
“You’re stewing in rage again, Father,” Magni pointed out.
Thor turned a glare on the boy. It wasn’t his fault, of course. So Thor forced his frown away. “You two are to watch each other’s backs, you hear me? Whatever else happens, whoever is in danger, naught is more important than each of you keeping the other alive. Do we understand one another?”
Thrúd scowled. “If we are fated for Valhalla—”
“No!” Thor slapped his knee. “Not now.” Not anytime, if he could help it. “I won’t lose either of you.”
Thrúd’s scowl only deepened. The woman hadn’t forgiven Thor for Magni, and the two of them had never really got on well since. Still, family was family.
Thor sighed. “I need to know you’ll do this, Thrúd. I need to know my children are safe.”
The shieldmaiden smiled, a slightly disturbing smile, given that only half of her face could upturn. “I’ll watch the boy.”
“I’m a man,” Magni protested.
Thor clapped him on the shoulder. “Right you are, boy. And listen to your sister.”
He took another look over his children. Sif would’ve been proud. Even thinking of her had the spots swimming before his eyes and a pounding building inside his head. She was the pain he deserved.
“Find us something to drink,” he ordered Magni, rubbing his aching head as the boy left.
They’d attack at dawn. Geri had wanted to do it at night, but the Aesir had only a few varulfur and berserkir left, and Tyr had judged the jotunnar would have more advantage, seeing better in the dark than men. It was best this way, really.
“Skadi wrought so much chaos,” Thor said, not even sure if he was talking to Thrúd.
Either way, his daughter just grunted in acknowledgement.
The first time Thor had gone after the Winter Queen, she’d been in a different host. She’d gotten Itreksjod killed, then, and had done worse since. Without her schemes, maybe Sif would still be alive. Certainly a great many others in Bjarmaland would be. And Freki. The snow maiden needed to die, but the best Thor could hope for would be to kill her host.
Hardly as satisfying, but he’d have to content himself with it.
Magni returned with a horn of ale, and they drank. Not enough to kill the pain in his head, but just enough to blunt it. He couldn’t allow himself more than that. He’d need all his wits come morning.
“Grandfather!” Thrúd screamed, as a wood jotunn’s giant arrow punched through Hoenir’s chest.
Roaring, Thor flung Mjölnir at the archer. The hammer crackled as it spun end over end, and erupted in thunder and lightning on i
mpact, scorching and flattening the jotunn who’d felled Hoenir.
Thor charged in after his hammer, leapt in the air, and slammed a fist into the jaw of another jotunn. He landed, caught the knees of a third jotunn and heaved, sending the creature toppling to the ground. Then he stomped on its head and kept going, bending to retrieve Mjölnir without slowing his stride.
His battle cries sent even the jotunnar on the defensive. They formed up before the entrance to the fortress.
Tyr had the greater part of Skadi’s army engaged up on the glacier, leaving Thor to bring down the queen, as they’d agreed.
Mjölnir sparked as he waded into their midst, swinging left and right, crushing bones and flinging bodies away with blasts of lightning. Naught like this hammer had ever existed, so far as Thor knew. It was a roiling storm, a manifestation of Thor’s rage fed with each foe it devoured. Whatever Father had intended in having this crafted, now it served Thor’s ends as well.
An upswing splattered a frost jotunn’s jaw and broke its neck backwards. The creature flipped around in the air before landing in a floppy mess.
Thor bellowed a challenge, but none of the jotunnar wanted to wade into the blasts of lightning that leapt all around him.
He twisted around to catch sight of Thrúd ramming a spear into a frost jotunn’s throat. Magni, he fought beside her as Thor had ordered, axe in one hand and shield in another. He was a torrent of death himself, and a comfort to know they’d keep each other safe.
Freeing Thor to crush jotunn after jotunn. His foes had strength and reach, but they could not match his fury. Some bore shields, but those exploded under Mjölnir’s blows. A mountain jotunn stood fifteen feet tall or more. Thor kicked off the body of a falling wood jotunn, flinging himself into the air. Lightning crackled about him as he soared and he’d swear the mountain jotunn’s jaw dropped in fear. For the instant before Mjölnir crashed down on its rocky skull. Shards of stones exploded outward, forcing Thor to shield his face, even as the blast of lightning coruscated down through the jotunn’s body and into those allies closest to it.
And then there was no one else between him and an iron-banded gate. Roaring, Thor swung the hammer at the doors. The first blow had it shuddering and cracking. The second sent splinters flying outward and left metal warping. The third snapped the barricade and sent the doors flying inward.
A snarl sounded behind him, then a bellow of pain.
Thor twisted around, but Geri had driven a seax into the thigh of a frost jotunn coming up on Thor’s flank. The varulf girl had fought with a savagery beyond even her kin for the past year. A recklessness, in fact, that bespoke a wish to join her brother in Valhalla. Much as that crushed Thor’s heart, he’d failed to talk her down from it.
Geri yanked the blade free, then sliced into the jotunn’s gut with it. Then she launched herself past Thor, barreling into another jotunn coming from inside the fortress.
In fact, a whole army of them were blundering forward, far more than Thor had expected Skadi to hold back in reserve.
Somehow, from their midst, Hermod appeared, ramming his runeblade into the back of one. The chaos that engendered broke the jotunn charge.
And allowed Thor to make one of his own. Mjölnir crashed through a jotunn’s knee, then came back around to crunch a skull. Lightning leapt between the tightly packed jotunnar, forcing Thor back.
Hermod. He hadn’t considered …
Except Hermod wasn’t where Thor had last seen him. Rather, the scout had come up at the back of the jotunn line, tearing into them once more. He seemed like a shadow, constantly flickering, too fast or too insubstantial for the jotunnar to close in on him.
Thor had no guess how the scout did it, but he couldn’t afford to waste the confusion. With Geri and his children beside him, he set into his foes with a fresh fury. He slammed Mjölnir into a jotunn’s shin and watched the bone snap out the side of its flesh. He brought the hammer up to crush a wood jotunn’s sternum. He splattered brains and bones in all directions.
Stian, a spearman Thor had taken on, thrust forward into the gap, killing another jotunn. His spear wedged into a wood jotunn’s gut and he seemed to struggle to pull it free. Before Thor could act, a frost jotunn’s axe cleaved through Stian’s head and split his skull down to his shoulders.
Snarling, Geri leapt up on the frost jotunn and repeatedly stabbed it in the neck with her seax. It all happened so fast that Stian’s killer was falling over backward before Thor had even recovered.
Another jotunn stepped in front of him, blocking his view. Thor swung Mjölnir, but the jotunn caught the hammer on its shield. The wood exploded, flinging both Thor and the jotunn several paces back.
Magni raced in and hewed its leg with his axe.
A moment of panic seized Thor at seeing his son in the front of such a chaotic melee. All he could do was keep fighting, though, and try to crush his foes before he lost any more allies. He waded back in, shouting until his throat hurt, letting Mjölnir fell jotunn after jotunn.
Then he broke through and into the great hall where Skadi herself stood waiting, surrounded by a half dozen frost jotunnar and two mountain jotunnar. The rock-skinned mountain jotunnar stood at least twelve feet tall, lumbering behemoths each armed with clubs that looked more like small tree trunks.
Panting, Thor strode forward into the hall and paused some distance from his foes.
Behind him, he heard his allies forming up as well. He wasn’t sure how many he’d lost in the push coming here. Thor had insisted on only bringing those who had tasted the fruit of Yggdrasil, but still, he’d lost at least seven getting here. At least. Part of him wanted to look back and see who still stood, but doing so would have bolstered the jotunnar’s confidence. And he wanted them scared. He wanted them fucking terrified.
“You should have stayed on your side of the wall,” Thor said.
Skadi spread her arms wide. “Once, all this, all the world was ours. Before the Vanir decided to divide the world into Utgard and Midgard. Outer and middle. Before that, all of it was just the Earth. Our glorious empire held relative peace across all lands. But the Vanir thought themselves better than us. They believed, in their arrogance, that immortality made them more fit to rule the world than us. Thus, they launched their wars. They slaughtered our children alongside our warriors. They shattered the peace that had held the world together, and the wars have never ceased since then. Yet they called us the instruments of chaos. So you tell me, little man, which of us holds more right to these lands? Your kind are thieves.”
Geri stepped up beside Thor, now having drawn a broadsword. “Do you truly believe we care about wrongs done to you by those who are now gone? We cast out the Vanir for their many failings. We will not be held to account for their crimes. But you,”—she pointed the sword at Skadi—“you will pay for yours. No one forced you to bring slaughter and war to Midgard.”
Skadi snickered. “History forced me. Urd forced me.”
“Then you can blame urd when my sword is buried in your breast!” Geri surged forward, not even waiting for everyone else and leaving Thor no choice but to charge in after the varulf.
With Mjölnir hefted, Thor slammed into a mountain jotunn. These giant bastards were twice the size of a man and they’d crush all Thor’s people in bare instants unless he dealt with them. The descent of a massive club forced Thor to draw up short. It impacted on the floor with such force the ground shook and the sound of it left Thor’s ears ringing, as they so oft did when he carried Mjölnir into battle. He raced forward before the jotunn could get the club back up, but had to duck and dodge as the jotunn swung a massive foot his way.
Thor danced around behind the mountain jotunn and slammed Mjölnir into the back of its thigh. The creature pitched forward as the thunderclap roared. Thor vaulted onto the jotunn’s back and rained blow after blow upon the behemoth. Shards of rock flew up with each impact, slicing Thor’s face and arms as they shot up like tiny missiles.
Mjölnir crunched into
the jotunn’s neck and flattened it.
Gasping for breath, blood dripping into his eyes, Thor twisted around.
Hermod had once again somehow come up behind a frost jotunn and driven his sword through its gut.
Thrúd and Magni stuck together, switching off against two more frost jotunnar, while pivoting to keep the mountain jotunn away from them. Baldr had already felled another frost jotunn. Tordis was hewing into a frost jotunn with her axe. Geri was engaged with Skadi, launching from one snarling attack into the next in a mad rage.
Thor hated leaving her, but that mountain jotunn was going to crush his children if he didn’t intervene, and the varulf had far more experience than either of them. Bellowing his challenge, Thor raced toward the giant jotunn, Mjölnir raised behind his head. The creature locked its gaze on Thor then blundered forward, making great sweeps of its enormous club.
Surging apple-gained strength to his legs, Thor leapt over a sweep, landed, and swiped Mjölnir. The hammer clipped the jotunn’s knee but the backswing of his club slammed into Thor and sent him flying away.
Everything turned into a blur of tumbling, crashing along the floor, rolling, and coming to a painful stop. With a groan, Thor rolled over and tried to rise. His legs gave out beneath him before he’d even managed his knees. Not even Mjölnir quite blocked the pain of a broken shin. Gasping, he called on the apple’s power to further dim the ache, but still couldn’t manage more than an unsteady limp.
And that mountain jotunn was stumbling toward Thor, his own gait now uneven but with the momentum of an avalanche.
Seeming to come from nowhere, Hermod drove his blade into the back of the mountain jotunn’s knee. The creature pitched forward with a rumbling scream, tearing the runeblade from Hermod’s hand.
Thor limped forward as fast as his broken leg allowed, and swiped Mjölnir into the jotunn’s skull. His movement cost him his balance and he pitched over sideways, smacking his elbow on the stone floor. That sent a jolt of pain through him that had him gasping.
