The Sword of Surtur

by C. L. Werner

  Nilfli paused, as though weighing the idea. “Ordinarily I should say no. The barriers that protect Asgard are strong, and Surtur’s agents haven’t been able to penetrate its walls.” He raised his hand when he saw the despair that flashed onto Tyr’s face. “The theft of Twilight makes things different,” he hurried to explain. “Long have I labored over that terrible blade. I know the spells and substances that have gone into its forging. When she stole Twilight, Lorelei took a piece of Muspelheim itself into Asgard. That creates a harmony, a resonance that will weaken the barriers.” His expression brightened. “Yes, I think it can be done.”

  Tyr rose to his feet. Though he still felt weak, the pain that had beset him was now only a dull throb. “Then let’s get going,” he told the dwarf. “The sooner we make our way to the Eternal Flame, the faster we can escape.”

  “Nothing is that easy,” Nilfli warned him. “If it were, every dwarf who slipped his chains would have returned to Nidavellir.” His visage turned grave and there was a haunted look in his eyes. “The Eternal Flame is guarded by one of Surtur’s most monstrous servants, the fyrewyrm Svafnir. The serpent’s breath brings on a terrible sleep that leaves its enemies helpless when it crawls forth to devour them. To pass through the portal, you will need to overcome the dragon.”

  “Let’s find this stonebread of yours,” Tyr said, his voice filled with resolution. “I’d rather not face a dragon on an empty stomach.”

  Twenty-Six

  The secret tunnels and rooms cut by the dwarves crisscrossed Surtur’s fortress at every level. Though they didn’t create a unified network, when Tyr and Nilfli were forced to venture through the stronghold’s halls there was always another hidden door nearby to bolt into when they heard the sound of a patrol. Tyr was impressed at the craft and care that generations of dwarves had employed to both construct and maintain the network. He wondered if Grokrim and his companions were even now hiding in some spot. If he could have been certain where they were, he’d have liked to bring them along to the Eternal Flame, as well as any other escaped dwarves concealed in the tunnels.

  “Too dangerous,” Nilfli advised, not without regret. “The more of us there are, the greater the chance we’ll be discovered. No dwarf has willingly betrayed the secret of these passages, but there have been times when one was caught before covering their tracks. That is why the fire demons know there are hidden chambers, even if they lack the insight to find them except by accident.”

  “It is a painful thing to leave anyone behind to Surtur’s tyranny,” Tyr said.

  “Much more for me to do so,” Nilfli told him. “Some of them are kindred, a few are even of my clan. It is not easy for me to turn my back on them. But it is even more important that you make it back to Asgard and thwart Lorelei’s plans. Were Odin to fall, who can say what other calamities would follow? Even we dwarves know the All-Father keeps the realms safe from Surtur. Without him, what would there be to hold the fire giant back?”

  “To win a battle, sacrifices must be made.” Tyr shook his head. “But it weighs easier on the mind when those making the sacrifice know what they’re giving up and why.”

  The two continued on in silence. Tyr sometimes took a bite of the gritty stonebread Nilfli had provided. It had the taste of gravel and a texture that could chip a troll’s tooth if one wasn’t careful, but he had to concede that there was an invigorating quality to it. He was refreshed as though he’d spent a long night in a soft bed, his strength rekindled to what it had been before enduring the rigors of Muspelheim. Unpleasant and rough it might be, but its sustaining properties were unmatched.

  Gradually the tunnels were taking them upward, into the great halls of the castle proper. The secret passages became less frequent, narrower and more confined. No longer was there room for Tyr to walk upright and he had to follow Nilfli in a stooped crouch that nearly matched the dwarf’s stature. The walls pressed in so that he had to twist himself around and walk sideways to navigate the passages. Only in one respect was there any relief. The further away from the molten core of the volcano their steps took them, the less hideous the heat.

  At least, such was the rule for many hours. Then, when they were well into the fire giant’s halls, the temperature began to rapidly climb again. Tyr expected to see the walls start to glow from the presence of lava just behind them, but the heat they now suffered was from a much different source.

  “We draw near the Eternal Flame,” Nilfli cautioned him, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Svafnir is often asleep, lulled by its own breath, but if the fyrewyrm should be awake, even these tunnels won’t hide us from its senses.” He pointed at Tyr’s sword. “You’ll have to strike fast, attack the dragon before it can react.”

  “I’ve fought dragons before,” Tyr said. “You’ve no need to worry on that score.”

  Nilfli’s face darkened with hate. “I’ve fought them before too. There’s nothing I despise so much as a dragon unless maybe it is a frost giant.” He stirred from his dark reverie and gave Tyr an apologetic smile. “Old grudges. You’ll have to excuse me. Some of my kindred once tried to slip past Svafnir despite my warnings. I never saw them again. I can only assume the serpent ate them.”

  “If Svafnir stands in our way, you might have your vengeance,” Tyr assured the dwarf.

  Nilfli led the way to another of the secret doors. He made a motion again for silence, then pressed his hand against the panel. It swung aside, revealing a stretch of hallway with walls of polished black basalt. A pungent smell at once rushed into the tunnel, both musky and burnt in its stench. Tyr knew that stink from old and had smelled it again when Lorelei employed Fafnir’s breath to hide them on their approach to the stronghold. It was the reek of dragon.

  Tyr followed Nilfli out into the corridor. After the confines of the dwarf passages, the colossal scale of the castle’s hall was overpowering. Surtur might stride these passages a hundred feet tall and yet have room to spare. For a moment, even the God of War was awed by the magnitude of the construction and the power of the being who was lord over it all.

  “This way,” Nilfli mouthed, tugging at his arm and indicating the juncture ahead of them. Both the heat and the dragon stench increased as they walked down the hall. Tyr braced himself for what he would find when they reached the crossroad.

  The hall the dwarf guided him to opened out into a gargantuan chamber. At a guess, Tyr judged it to be five hundred feet across and two hundred feet from floor to ceiling. Its walls were a sinister, ruddy color shot through with veins of gold, all of it polished to an oily smoothness and a mirror-like sheen. At the center of the room a mammoth flame blazed up from the floor as though emerging from a fiery well. The conflagration was at once all colors and none. Tyr was surprised that it reminded him in some strange way of Bifrost, though even the coolest shades were distorted into an angry and volatile hue. This was certainly the Eternal Flame, the First Fire shed by Surtur in the dawn of time.

  Coiled around the well was a creature almost as massive in size. Svafnir the fyrewyrm, a serpent as wide around as a longship and coated in dark red scales. Looking on the reptile’s hide, Tyr wondered if the shields used by the fire demons hadn’t been shed by the dragon, such was their thickness. Though the beast was curled in upon itself, he judged that if it stretched out it would be longer than the hall itself.

  Keeping a tight grip on his sword, Tyr advanced into the hall. He couldn’t blame Nilfli for hanging back. The dwarf had shown remarkable courage just to lead him this far. Dragonslayer he might be, but Tyr doubted the orms Nilfli had faced before were aught compared to Svafnir. Certainly, Tyr had never raised a blade against its like.

  The serpent’s head was tucked beneath one of its coils, only the tip of its snout projecting outward. Tyr could see its flared nostrils, a greasy fume rising from them. Its jaws were clamped shut, the scaly mouth sealed tight. Warily he moved deeper into the room, wondering if there was some way they coul
d climb over the reptile without disturbing its slumber.

  As he approached, Tyr saw a glimmer of light shining from the shadow of the overhanging coil. He peered closer, his pulse racing when he noted that the shine came from a set of enormous eyes. He urged himself to calm, knowing that dragons of Svafnir’s ilk had no lids to shut their eyes and must perforce sleep with them open.

  No sooner had that thought come to him than a long, forked tongue rasped out from the jaws and wobbled before the dragon’s face, twitching as it tasted his scent in the air.

  “Assssgardian,” a low, unctuous voice trembled across the room. Tyr took a step back as the dragon’s coil slipped down and its head reared up. The snake-like eyes stared down at him. “It hasss been a long time ssssince I sssmelled Asssgardian.”

  Tyr shifted his gaze to the dragon’s snout. Meeting a dragon’s stare was a dangerous thing to do and he’d brought enough trouble onto himself already by letting someone meddle with his mind. “Would it do any good to ask you to step aside?”

  A hiss of laughter rose from Svafnir. It shifted its colossal bulk and clawed the air with its small, vestigial arms. “Ssstep asssside,” the dragon chuckled. “A disssmal turn of phrassse, Asssgardian.”

  “Slither aside then,” Tyr corrected himself. “Whatever removes you from my path.”

  The forked tongue flickered again. “The only path for you issss to my sssstomach.”

  Tyr cursed himself for bandying words with Svafnir. The dragon’s speech, as much as its stare, had a stupefying effect. He failed to notice that it had uncoiled more of its body until the serpent’s tail came hurtling toward him. Instinctively he darted back and took a swing at the scaly member. But Svafnir had no intention of actually striking him. What it wanted was precisely what he’d done.

  The wedge-shaped head darted forward, jaws gaping wide. Svafnir’s breath exploded across the chamber. Not a blast of fire, but a smog of yellow vapor that washed across Tyr. Only for a moment did he remain standing, then the soporific cloud brought him crashing to the floor.

  “Tyr!” Nilfli shouted from where he was poised at the entrance to the hall.

  Svafnir twisted its head and looked towards the dwarf. “Ah!” it mused. “I sssee now! Ssso, it’sss you! After I sssettle with the Assssgardian, I’ll sssee what to do about you.”

  The serpent dipped its head forward, mouth open to seize Tyr in its jaws. Before it could reach its prey, Svafnir found its victim wasn’t as helpless as he seemed.

  “Tyr!” Nilfli cried out, but this time with excitement rather than dismay. The Aesir rolled onto his feet and brought his gleaming blade swinging around. Svafnir started to pull back, but it recognized its peril too late. The sword gashed it just ahead of its eye, biting deep and raking along the snout.

  “Coward! Sssneak!” the dragon howled, fiery blood spilling from its head, smoke billowing from a cleft nostril.

  Tyr gestured at the reptile with his sword, not rising to the bait of answering its cries. He was still surrounded by the dragon’s sleep-inducing smog and wasn’t about to risk inhaling any of it. Not after how he’d almost been caught by the sudden attack.

  “Isss thisss how Odin’sss ssspawn fightsss?” Svafnir raged. The dragon drew back and made ready to strike at Tyr.

  Instead of meeting the challenge of the fyrewyrm’s jaws, Tyr swung to meet the battering length of its tail. He’d taken something of the dragon’s measure now and found that its heart was rotten with trickery. As he expected, Svafnir reversed its earlier tactic, now feinting with its head while its tail moved in from the attack.

  Tyrsfang ripped across the tip of the reptile’s tail, shearing through its scaly armor and sending a five-foot length of it spinning across the floor. Detached from Svafnir’s body, the severed section crackled and crumbled into brittle ash.

  In its fury, Svafnir uncoiled the rest of its enormous body. It reared up, its horned head brushing against the roof. Its gaze bore down on Tyr, trying to compel him to stare into its eyes by sheer force of will. Had one of its eyes not become dull and listless from the smoke spewing from its gashed snout, perhaps he would have submitted, but for now its ambition wasn’t equal to its ability.

  Across the chamber Tyr charged at Svafnir. The dragon’s head dove toward him with the speed of a lightning bolt, but he was ready for its assault. Throwing himself to one side, he drove Tyrsfang into the reptile’s jaw and twisted the blade. Fangs and bone were torn away as he wrested the sword free again.

  “Sssuffer!” the dragon shrieked. “You’ll both sssuffer for that!”

  The enormous body undulated toward Tyr. He slashed at one of the scaly coils, but this time he misjudged Svafnir’s ploy. The seemingly puny and worthless arm struck at him and caught him in its claws. He could see the digits curl around him as the dragon tried to crush him.

  Again, the enchanted armor saved Tyr, defying Svafnir’s effort to pulverize him. The dragon stared, incredulous at its inability to crush the Aesir. He gave the serpent no chance to resolve the puzzle. Hewing away one of the claws, Tyr broke free. Using the dragon’s paw to brace himself, he lunged at the worm’s head.

  A roar of pain boomed through the chamber as Tyr’s sword struck Svafnir’s eye. The dragon whipped away from the Eternal Flame. Its anguished gyrations threw Tyr to the floor. By the narrowest margin was he able to escape the serpent’s crawling bulk as it slithered across the hall. His sword flashed out again, raking along the reptile’s side and slicing thick scales from its hide.

  This last hurt was one wound too many. Blinded in one eye, the other clouded from its own soporific smoke, bleeding from tail, jaw, arm and side, Svafnir regretted the arrogance that had made it challenge Tyr. Heedless of any other concern, the serpent fled from its tormentor, nearly crushing Nilfli as it slithered out through the entrance.

  The moment the dragon was past him, Nilfli rushed into the room. The dwarf’s face fairly glowed with excitement. “By all the gods, you did it!” he crowed. “You sent that misbegotten snake hurrying from here as though Agnar the Eagle King were nipping at its tail!”

  Tyr returned the dwarf’s praise with a weary smile. “It was harder than it looked,” he informed the dwarf. “Svafnir underestimated me. That’s a dangerous thing to do in any fight. Contempt for an enemy can be a mortal error.”

  Nilfli kicked the heap of ash where the severed tip of Svafnir’s tail had lain. “You’ve settled many a score laid against that snake,” he said. “I only regret you didn’t settle the dragon itself in the process.” He gave a hopeful glance to the trail of blood the fleeing orm had left behind.

  “We’ve more important things to do than chase after wounded dragons,” Tyr reminded Nilfli. “Svafnir is sure to have the entire fortress rushing here in no time.” He gestured at the billowing column of the Eternal Flame. “We’d better be gone before they get here.”

  Cries in the distance told them both that the alarm was already spreading. Tyr could hear the sound of rushing feet and the clatter of armor, the angry voices of fire demons vowing revenge.

  “Hurry to the flame,” Nilfli instructed Tyr. “Take my hand so that my courage doesn’t falter,” he added.

  Tyr sheathed his sword and took hold of the dwarf. “I should think after seeing Svafnir, the Eternal Flame would hold no terror for you.”

  “The barrier between Asgard and Muspelheim is strong,” Nilfli replied. “I’ve been so long in this realm that I don’t know if I can pass through on my own. I need you, Tyr Odinson, to ensure I’m not cast out by the walls and sent back here to endure Surtur’s punishment.”

  “I owe you much,” Tyr said. “I’ll not let go no matter how hard the barrier strives against us.”

  “Focus upon someone or something you know is in Asgard,” Nilfli instructed him. “Picture it in your mind. Will yourself towards it.” The dwarf gave him a sharp look. “Think of Twilight! Then we should be
brought directly to Surtur’s sword when we cross over.”

  Tyr nodded, trying to fixate upon the image of the fire giant’s blade. His mind kept wandering, distracted by other thoughts. Faces of those who’d wronged them and those who he’d wronged. “Nilfli, I don’t know…”

  Before he could say anything more, a company of fire demons came charging down the hall into the chamber. A hundred and more, all armored in red metal and bearing obsidian weapons. Hellhounds rushed ahead of the guards, sparks flying from their fangs.

  Tightening his grip on the dwarf’s hand, Tyr ignored the intense heat rising from the fiery well and plunged into the Eternal Flame.

  Twenty-Seven

  The enormous heat from the Eternal Flame inundated Tyr’s body. For a heartbeat it felt as though everything that made him – flesh, mind, and spirit – was being consumed by the writhing fire. Then that instant of torment vanished, leaving in its place an impression of falling, being flung through an empty void where the only impact upon his senses was the prismatic whirl of colors that filled his eyes. Only dimly could he feel Nilfli’s hand in his own.

  The dwarf’s hand twitched and struggled in his grip. Unable to hear anything as he was hurled through the nothingness between worlds, Tyr didn’t know if Nilfli cried out to him in panic, but he knew why the dwarf was filled with terror. His hand was slipping away from Tyr’s, being drawn off by the mystical energies of the portal. The Aesir tightened his hold, forcing all of his strength into the fingers that were closed around Nilfli’s. He owed the smith a mighty debt and wouldn’t let him be dragged away from him, doomed to languish in this eternal void.

  Tyr clenched his eyes tight and banished distracting thoughts from his brain. The void, Nilfli, Muspelheim and everything else had to be ignored. To cross into Asgard he had to focus upon what he sought there. Such had been the dwarf’s warning.