by Terry Graves
Sveinn sighed. Perhaps he would have liked to flog them a bit or force them to take care of the village’s cattle for a week. But, with that woman in the way, it was no longer worth it. For the first time in a long time, Gerda felt happy that Solfrid had been there to stand up for them, even if she was doing it only for Kai’s benefit.
“Fine, fine,” said Sveinn and, with a tired gesture of his hand, he added: “No punishment.”
Solfrid smiled, a grin with yellow teeth and gray gums and some pieces missing. “Now, let’s go see this giant.”
And so, Gerda came back to the frozen lake for the third time that day. It was way past midday by then and the sun was veiled under a layer of clouds. Cold had returned. A gust of wind came down from the mountains and howled across the valley, and the elders smiled and took it as a good sign.
Sveinn peered at the giant’s hand, which no longer moved and simply remained there as something dead. The chieftain was not a warrior; he had not sailed to ravage the south or served under the orders of a warlord or the great King Fróði. He had fought against the bandits that crawled the forest roads, damaging the trade routes they so desperately needed, but other than that, the only combat he had seen in his life had taken place during the tavern brawls. He was not a warrior, but he would have been mistaken for one. The inhospitable place in which they lived had sculpted his muscles, which were big and solid like mountain rocks. And perhaps precisely because he was not a warrior, he decided he had something to prove in front of the village. So he took a long look at the giant, grunted, pulled down his breeches, and took a piss over the snow. Gerda averted her eyes, disgusted.
“Giant?” he exclaimed. “He doesn’t look so giant to me!”
His brag was received with cheers and laughter. But the elders didn’t laugh, nor did Solfrid. And Kai had a somber expression. You were the one who wanted to look for help, don’t you? Gerda thought. Well, this is what happens.
Sveinn shook his thing and pulled his trousers up again. The tension was now gone and the freemen walked into the ice to take a closer look. Gerda tried to find her father, but he had vanished since they left the hall. She was relieved, although that was to be expected. With his missing leg, he would not have been able to keep up the pace, nor walk confidently onto the frozen lake. Still, Gerda was scared of what she would find when she got home later.
A thought for another time, she decided, and shook her head. But then, a more worrisome idea sprang into her mind. What if Fyrnir spoke with Sveinn or the elders as he had done with them? He said he was craving conversation, was he not? And what if he told them about their previous talk?
Gerda quickened her pace and joined them at the lead of the party. She could not overtake them, or they would suspect something.
“They were seated right here,” said Torgeir, solicitous. They moved away and looked down and saw the giant’s face. But this time, Fyrnir’s eyelids were closed.
There was silence. Just the wind rattling and the men peering at Fyrnir’s head and at the crown that lay over his forehead with its bright jewels the size of fists. Gerda listened and heard nothing.
Which was not a bad sign at all.
“How deep do you think it is?” Sveinn asked. An old man kneeled on the ground. He knocked the ice with his knuckles.
“Mmm… thick enough. Five, seven feet at least.”
“To the crown?”
The old man nodded.
“It’s too risky,” said Gunnvor.
“Are you seriously considering this?” Kai exploded. “Are you putting everybody’s life at risk for the promise of gold?”
“Hush, boy!” Sveinn bellowed. “Or I swear by the gods, I will break your teeth.”
Kai did not dare to say another word. Sveinn was capable of that and more. But the threat seemed to annoy Solfrid. She clenched her teeth and made a noise with her tongue, a snap that sounded as if she was cracking a bone, then she drew closer to Sveinn.
“Listen to me, you damn fool, and listen well,” she whispered into the man’s ear. Only those who were near Sveinn could listen to this. “What will you tell the king’s men when they come? How will you explain that you stole from him? Or perhaps you plan to tell them nothing and slay the giant all by yourself? Eh, giant slayer?”
Any other would have been in trouble after those words, but not Solfrid. Perhaps she was a fraudster, but no one wanted to test it. Nobody wanted his cattle to die, the roof of his house to break down, or his next son to be born twisted. Maybe none of these things would ever happen, but one would spend all his life guessing. One would never sleep thinking about the comeback and the woman would have won anyway. So, as before, it was simply not worth the price.
Without giving Sveinn a chance to reply, Solfrid turned around to face the multitude, and exclaimed: “The ice is getting brittle! It’s rotting away at the edges! Back! Go back!”
She moved her arms up and down, and the people gathered around the giant murmured and retreated.
“I see nothing,” said one of the elders.
“I agree,” Solfrid replied. “You see nothing.” She faced the people, who were huddling up once again. “There’s nothing for you here and I’m sure you have matters to attend to. Return to them!”
Disillusioned, they started to disperse into smaller groups and walked back to the edge of the lake. Just Sveinn, Torgeir, Kai, Gerda, and the elders remained. Alarr and Runa were nowhere to be seen. She was probably happy to escape at last, and Alarr was needed in the forge and did not want to test his father’s patience.
Sveinn had an indecipherable expression. The muscles of his neck were as tight as ship’s ropes. “One day, woman…” he muttered.
“Yes, one day. But that won’t be today, Lord. Now listen to me: the place is tainted, it reeks. It’s time to do some real magic.”
Solfrid walked around in circles, knocking the ice with her staff and listening to the noise it made. She paced back to the group and faced Gerda. She was much taller than her — a whole foot at least — and Gerda had to raise her chin so their eyes could meet. “Girl, if you’re going to stay, do something useful and go grab a dozen stones for me. This size,” she closed her hand into a fist. “Rounded. White.”
“I’m not a girl,” said Gerda. “And I have a name.”
“Yes, I know. Now go.”
Gerda grumbled and walked to the edge, where the first pines started to grow. There the ice was thinner and in some areas there were shallow puddles of water. Most of the rocks were gray and irregular, covered in moss and frost, and she started to think Solfrid’s orders were merely a misdirection to get her out of the way. Every time she found a white rounded stone, she picked it up and held it in her apron. It took her a while to get twelve of them, and three trips to carry them back.
“I suppose that’s your very best” said Solfrid after she examined the pile of rocks she had gathered. None of them was perfectly rounded; they all had small imperfections. She took them one by one and brought them to her ear, as if the rocks could whisper to her. Then she inscribed a shape on the surface with ochre paint, using her finger. Each rock found its place around the giant’s head, forming a circle. A crown for a crown. “Go back. I need some room.”
They retreated, and Gerda moved away from Sveinn and the others, and closer to Kai. The woman moved into the center of the circle and started the ritual. She began to mutter and contort, she walked on all fours like an animal and growled, she spit on the outskirts, she sniffed the air and rubbed her face against the ice.
The sun had set by now, and the sky was the color of rusted iron. Solfrid rose and howled. She was in a trance, her eyes were no longer of this world. Perhaps she was in the astral plane, talking with Fyrnir on equal terms.
A gust of wind blew across the lake and Gerda shivered. She didn’t like magic. It was untrustworthy, sly. If the gods were no more, where did the prayers go to, who was she binding, compelling to obey, and what kind of monsters she was pledging to?
&n
bsp; At the climax of the ritual, a powerful thunder shook them to the bones, and a single bolt of lightning split the sky in two. It fell in the forest, far away, and when the moment was gone, so was the magic, that ineffable feeling that got into Gerda’s head, as if she was dreaming and the shapes of the world were getting blurrier and blurrier and there were no certainties anymore. The lightning fell, but there was no storm coming. The thick air heaved again, the mantle of silence was lifted and a bird chirped from a nearby tree.
Solfrid lay on her back, breathing heavily. “It is done.”
“It is not,” said Sveinn.
“What do you mean?”
“We need proof, as I said before.” Sveinn brought his hand to his belt, where the axe hung, and smiled. He walked calmly to where Fyrnir’s hand was and looked up. “I may never be a giant slayer, but at least I’ll have a taste.”
And, taking his axe with both hands, he buried it deep into the giant’s little finger. For the second time that day, blood was spilled over the frozen surface, bright steaming red against the purity of white.
THREE
Solfrid climbed into the high seat Kai always had ready for her in the middle of the room of his house, right next to the fire. The sorceress sprawled over the feathered cushion like a goose brooding an egg.
“I’ve seen a frozen lake, larger than this one,” she said, “where a herd of deer found its demise all at once. Now they’re trapped under ice and the stags’ antlers sprout out from the ground like a forest of bone. So great is the power of the Great Cold.”
Kai had heard many stories about the Great Cold, and believed each and every one of them. A blizzard of such fierceness, he thought, could preserve a giant in the same manner as the herd of deer in Solfrid’s story, especially if it took place many years ago. Perhaps a sudden drop in temperature had overwhelmed him in the blink of an eye.
“The giant’s here for you. I know this,” said Solfrid. She had not stop talking about this since they came back; about what it meant, about what to do.
“That’s ridiculous. He was in that lake a long time before I was even born.”
“It’s destiny. It will put things in motion. It will change everything.”
Kai sighed. “I still don’t understand why this has to be about me.”
“Because you’re different, Kairan. I’ve told you many a time. There’s plenty of magic inside you, but you’re born in a world where it is no longer possible for you to take it out.”
“Magic that amounts to nothing, then,” he replied with a tense smile.
“The mirrors are the only magic that works anymore.”
Most mages and sorcerers were of no use nowadays. There were not many rites carried out around in Veraheim because, when you believe that there are no gods left to listen in Ásgarð, you tend to neglect your prayers and spells. Solfrid’s magic, however, did not come from the Æsir, but from the mirror’s shards. That was the only kind which was still supposed to work. Kai had asked her to teach him the ways of the mirror many times in the past, and she had done so up to a certain point. But he still needed the help of the shards for the spells to work. And, despite the fact that Solfrid had two, she would never give him one. Kai depended on her.
“Because of the Snow Queen?”
She shook her head. “She’s the result, not the cause. She came for you because you’re different. And you’re still here because you’re even more different than she had expected. Remember this, Kairan: you’re the only tribute to her that remains in Miðgarð. The others shone and died and faded from memory, and now remain a thing of winters past.”
Kai shuddered against his will. He had not yet been born when the Queen came to the village and took a little boy named Ivar, but he had known his parents and his sister Nefja. When the child disappeared, they did not cry for him; they could not. Instead, Veraheim held a celebration, and a great feast, and everybody congratulated them. So they smiled, and laughed, and tried to be happy as the others were. Ivar had turned into winter, after all, and winter meant salvation.
For many years, people claimed they could hear Ivar’s voice in the wind, and see his reflection in the bottom of the frozen rivers, and imagine his gentle footsteps over the virgin snow.
Despite Ivar’s sacrifice, in the fair days of summer the snow crumbled and melted in puddles, revealing small patches of frozen grass underneath. This was a cause of concern for those who, like the elders, believed in giants and monsters. It was said that when the ice left, they would leave their realm and come for them. The paths through the mountains would clear and become passable once again and there was no way to know what the ice would hold beyond those peaks. For Kai, who had not known any different for most of his life, weather was still cold and inclement, and until now he had not lost much sleep over monsters.
But now there was a giant, and the lake was thawing.
“There is magic in Runa as well. You said this too.”
“Yes, the vǫlva girl. She has the second sight and a tongue for prophecies. I’ve advised you to pay attention to her and to avoid the other one; the red. Half of what she says are lies, and she seems proud of it. But you never listen.”
“Because you’re being unfair with Gerda. She has done nothing to you.”
“You think with your groin, not with your head.”
Kai blushed. “And you’re being very nasty today.”
“I don’t have the need to lie,” she said with scorn, and climbed down from the high seat.
“What about dinner?” said Kai. He was starving.
“No dinner!” Solfrid exclaimed. “We’re traveling tonight.”
She took one of the leather sacks that hung from her neck and threw it to him. The mirror shard was inside, somewhere. Kai clenched his hand around it and felt the cold that emanated from within. It was similar — but at the same time different — to that which he felt from the piece he had around his own neck, the glass that the Snow Queen had given to him.
Kai sat, and Solfrid did the same, facing him. Both had their legs crossed and their faces were about an ell apart. She took down the bear cowl, revealing a mane of blonde hair, broken by strands of pure white.
“Why is it so important? What are you expecting to see?”
She shook her head again and dropped something into the fire. The light changed and turned blue. Shadows grew longer in the room and the smell of burning herbs got into his nostrils. “Fate is coming to all of us soon enough. Things are stirring up in the Nine Realms. I want to see for myself.”
“The giant must be here by pure chance,” said Kai. That is what the elders said.
“Chance is destiny just the same.”
“But—”
“We have talked enough,” she interrupted him. She took off the bear skin. When she dropped it back, it was like she had shifted her shape and was a woman once again. Below the fur, she was dressed like one of the Saami people who lived up north.
Kai closed his eyes, and Solfrid began to sing. Her voice was rough, but soothing at the same time. Kai thought about his mother, who used to sing lullabies to him at night. The Cold had taken her, as it had taken his father before, and so many others. Kai felt this cold now, the one which came from the mirror shard. He did not like it in the way he liked the touch of the Snow Queen on his chest, but he had learnt to embrace this new discomfort as well.
Solfrid sang: “There is the ash Yggdrasil, branches spread over the world, Night and day, sun and moon.”
Kai opened a pair of eyes that were only in his mind. He saw the tree, and imagined its roots firmly grabbing the earth, drinking from the many wells and seas. Its branches covered the sky, which was said to be made from the skull of the giant Ymir. He saw the four stags and the eagle with a hawk on its beak and the Ratatosk monster gnawing at its roots.
Solfrid sang: “There is Ásgarð, with its golden roofs, and the High One’s hall, and the High One seated on his throne.”
And Kai could see this as well, de
spite the fact that he knew Ásgarð was covered in ice and the High One did not dwell there anymore.
“There is Óðin,” Solfrid kept singing, “and two ravens with him, dressed in black feathering.”
Huginn and Muninn; thought and mind. Kai saw them inside his head. One of them cawed and extended its wings, and the second one did the same. Then they took flight.
Kai found that he was floating too. He noticed his own body on the floor, next to Solfrid. The sorceress did not sing anymore, because they were both asleep, breathing calmly, as if in a trance. A window was left open at one end of the longhouse, and Kai flapped his wings and emerged into the brisk night.
Kai turned around and, for a moment, enjoyed the flight and his lightness. He had changed his shape and was now a sparrow. Solfrid was a black heron which flew next to him. The whole experience had the weak consistency of a dream. It was barely real, strange but fun anyway.
During the last few years, the elders had complained that winter had been retreating slowly, and when he looked down Kai saw how much snow had disappeared since the last time. There were bald patches everywhere, revealing a beautiful green which extended in all directions. Even in the mountains, the eternal snow of their peaks was getting thinner and thinner. The thought scared him.
Solfrid made an ugly sound to raise his attention, like the bark of a small dog, and Kai followed her east, to the never-ending forests. The trees seemed to regard them as spies. Kai could have sworn that they crowded together to conceal whatever was taking place underneath. Still, he saw a creature which hid under a fallen log. It had a long and thin dragging tail with a brush of hair at the end. It seemed like a troll, but he had never seen one before and so he could not be sure.
Next, they tried to reach Jötunheim, but there was a strong gust of wind that kept sending them away, so they went up, into the sky and through the cloud cover. They traveled to Niðavellir, to the dark fields, and stopped on one of the biggest mountains. Kai perched on the branch of an elm and listened, and heard the noises in the belly of the earth. The dwarves, the sons and daughters of Sindri, were using the anvil and the forge. They were making a great din, which was probably not a good omen.
