Wrath of Aten

by S. A. Ashdown

  ‘Asleep in the armoury,’ someone said.

  Utgard-Loki rubbed his palms together. ‘Follow me, Gatekeeper.’ The feasters abandoned the table to attend to me and their king as we burrowed farther into the fortress. A collection of weaponry to rival Father’s decorated the walls, and I scanned the vast selection of swords for one that matched the description Freyr had given me, to no avail.

  Skryrim lay asleep against the wall, oblivious to the warriors clashing and parrying around him. ‘Your first challenge is one of strength,’ the king said. ‘Find a way to wake him up. It won’t be easy; Skryrim has spent the last few centuries mostly asleep. He feels almost nothing. Feel free to use any weapon at your disposal.’

  Arrogant, I assumed it won’t be easy meant it would take me five minutes. I strode up to the hill-sized giant and prodded his arm. Nothing. I punched it, investing the Gatekeeper’s power behind the blow but I only elicited a pause between snores. The warriors who’d been training together stopped to watch – and snicker.

  This is ridiculous. I need to get back to Ava. My brain decided to trick my fingers into thinking they were caressing the soft flesh of her hip.

  I stalked back to Utgard-Loki. ‘Giving up so soon?’

  ‘No,’ I snapped, unhooking Thor’s hammer from my belt, or rather, the belt Thor had given me to provide the strength required to carry the damn thing. The crowd moved back, startled by Mjölnir’s appearance.

  I ran forward and lobbed it at Skryrim’s bulging stomach. It bounced off his belly and flung back to my hand. The giant snorted and rolled on his side. ‘You’re kidding me,’ I said.

  ‘Two more attempts,’ Utgard-Loki said. ‘I think that’s fair.’ His subjects murmured in agreement.

  This time, I aimed for the giant’s head. Once again, the hammer bounced back. Skryrim flopped his great hand over his forehead and sighed through his nose. But his eyes remained closed. Odin, Thor, and Freyr, give me a break!

  ‘Last chance, Gatekeeper.’

  I huffed, putting Thor’s hammer away, and summoned Ormdreper. I approached the giant’s enormous leg and thrust the blade into the flesh just below his knee.

  He sat up.

  Opened his eyes.

  Then plucked Ormdreper out as if it were a thorn, chucked it across the room, and tossed me aside with the back of his hand. I smashed into the wall, bringing a load of gleaming sharp weapons down with me. ‘Ouch…’

  The Gatekeeper healing ability kicked in and I scrambled to my feet, triumphant. ‘I woke hi—’

  Skryrim was once again snoring. ‘For Odin’s sake!’

  Utgard-Loki shook his head, disappointed yet smug. ‘I’m feeling generous,’ he said, ‘let’s call that a draw. Ready for your next challenge?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Excellent, we shall return to the feasting hall.’

  I eyed Logi – my opponent – who grinned from the opposite end of the table. An eating contest? Now that was something I could do. I’d hardly eaten on my journey with Ullr and the Gatekeeper required a cart-load of fuel. The stunt I’d pulled, melting half the valley, left a dent in my energy supplies too. I returned Logi’s grin, eyeing up the line of dishes – an exact replica of his – that stretched into the middle of the table, where the prize dish was piled high with cakes. The first to reach the middle and eat the majority of the cake would be declared the winner. To make it slightly fairer, the king had chosen the smallest giant among the gathering, who was only two feet bigger than me.

  ‘What happens if neither of us make it?’ I asked.

  Utgard-Loki shrugged. ‘I don’t think that will be a problem.’

  Logi waved at me from the other end, saliva dripping down his chin. I took a sip of water and concentrated on my bowl, letting the heat awaken my stomach. Someone blew a horn and the contest began. I picked up the bowl of soup and drank it down in seconds, glancing up over the rim of the bowl to find Logi was polishing off the plate of potatoes.

  I sped up, chewing and swallowing and sometimes not chewing at all, trying to keep pace with Logi, whose pace increased as he ate. That’s not possible. But the stomach of a giant proved to be cavernous. I’m going to lose.

  A vision of Freyr’s death at Surt’s hand made me dig down to invite the Gatekeeper to take control of my body. I’d only let it do that a few times – ‘let’ is a loose term – and on one occasion it had kept me eating while I had been asleep.

  Feed, find sustenance, I commanded. The Gatekeeper stretched into my arms and legs, as if it had been waiting on tenterhooks, ready to jump in. Its willingness to seize control always frightened me but it was with relief that I observed myself stuffing the food into my mouth, processing it instantaneously.

  I hardly heard the ooos and ahhhs as I caught up with Logi, drawing each dish down the table with magic.

  But he got to the cakes first.

  I flung out my arm to lasso the plate and yank it away but Logi had polished off the whole lot, leaving me with a plate of crumbs. With a groan, I tossed the empty platter to the floor and banged my head against the table.

  ‘You did well, Gatekeeper. But still, you have yet to best anyone in Utgard. How do you expect to slay your true foes?’

  I glared daggers at him – and burped into my hand. ‘Somehow I doubt Akhen is planning to challenge me to a cook off,’ I said. ‘I’m not ready to give up yet.’

  ‘So be it,’ the king said. ‘One last challenge. Perhaps you can redeem yourself.’

  I clutched my stomach, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. ‘Although,’ he laughed, ‘you may wish to wait a few hours.’

  ‘I don’t have time,’ I said. Oh, did I regret not using his offer.

  We exited the hall in favour of the courtyard. ‘You may wish to melt the ice so you don’t slip and break your fragile, human neck.’

  I stared at him. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Make a track around the perimeter. The next challenge is a race.’

  On a full stomach. He did warn me. I did as he instructed, directing a laser beam of heat, through Ormdreper, around the edge of the yard – a yard about the area of two football pitches. ‘Who am I racing?’

  ‘Our messenger boy,’ Utgard-Loki said, and a skinny child stepped out of the crowd. ‘Hugi.’

  I considered refusing to race a child but the kid was my height anyway. ‘Rules?’

  ‘Three laps, two for the challenges you have already lost, one for the race itself. I shall be the marker. It should be easy for you, Gatekeeper, with Thor’s belt around your waist.’

  I wonder if I should reverse astral project. Somehow I didn’t think I’d get away with it. Hugi and I stood side by side. The horn blew, and Hugi blurred away. I pumped my legs and arms at a speed Lorenzo would’ve been proud of.

  But the kid messenger creamed me nonetheless. I tumbled over the finish and almost careered through the wall trying to stop myself – however, I did get a good dent in my pride.

  ‘I can’t believe I failed.’ I heaved, hands on my knees while my breath restored itself to its natural rhythm. I have to get Freyr’s sword. I’ll have to fight. I’ll have to fight a whole fortress of giants who are tougher, hungrier, and quicker than me. I rose slowly and eyed the king, allowing the Gatekeeper’s tics to shudder under my skin, preparing for the inevitable. My jaw hardened, Ormdreper forming in my hand.

  The king noticed. ‘A sore loser!’ he called to his subjects, his mockery echoing throughout the courtyard.

  I faced him square on and took a step forward. ‘You mistake me,’ I said, and hush fell over the gathering. ‘I admit defeat but I am still the Gatekeeper. I have a duty to protect the Nine Realms and everyone in it, including you lot. Whether I fail or whether I die, it has no bearing on the action I must take. I’m the best you’ve got.’

  Utgard-Loki folded his arms and stared down at the warlock claiming to be the saviour of the Nine Realms, brandishing a sword while trapped in a fortress full of ice giants, and perhaps a small part
of his conscience thawed. ‘Young man, one quality you do appear to possess is bravery – or stupidity, or arrogance?’

  ‘A healthy dose of all three,’ I said, holding fast to my defensive position.

  The Outland King nodded. ‘You didn’t fail the challenges as badly as you might believe. But you did pass my test for perseverance. Come.’

  I didn’t lower Ormdreper right away, not until the king retreated back inside, the crowd filing in behind him. With caution, I tagged on at the end, heading back to the armoury.

  Only this time, three huge holes punctured the enormous – metre thick – walls. ‘When did that happen?’

  Utgard-Loki pointed at my belt. ‘Thor’s hammer,’ he said. ‘Not even the god himself wielded it as well as you.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said, ‘it didn’t hit the walls.’ I pointed to the spot where Skryrim had been only to realise the giant had gone.

  ‘Skryrim left the fortress a long time ago,’ Utgard-Loki said. ‘It was an illusion.’ He gave a small bow. ‘My speciality.’

  ‘So, Mjölnir was actually smashing the walls? It was a trick?’

  The king nodded. ‘You were flung to the wall by falling debris. It almost split your head open. You were lucky.’

  I glowered. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time that has happened,’ I said, referring to the Battle of Hellingstead, when Father had stopped Hel from forcing me to slaughter the innocent employees of the Praetoriani by bringing a chandelier down onto my head. I’d only survived because of the amulet and now Akhen had destroyed that line of defence.

  ‘What about the eating contest?’ I asked, as it dawned on me that the other two challenges were probably equally as rigged.

  ‘Logi is but the face I cast upon wildfire, which consumes everything in its path. And you almost won.’

  Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so deflated.

  ‘And the race?’

  ‘Hugi is the personification of my thoughts, and nothing is faster than the speed of thought. Even so, you outran anyone of your height I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.’

  ‘Wow, backhanded compliment. So…the sword?’

  ‘You did well, Gatekeeper, but you still lost.’

  ‘It wasn’t fair!’

  Jörð, I hated sounding like a child. ‘Istapp is coming back with me,’ I said. ‘You can try and stop me but—’

  He held up his hand. ‘You are welcome to it. In return, we expect Freyr’s cooperation in the future.’

  ‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ I said, relieved. ‘Where is it?’

  He stalked off, forcing me to tail him, and we roamed down corridors and halls for some time, giving me a sense of the sheer scale of the fortress. Every room had a dedicated function but it wasn’t always easy to tell what that was. I almost got very sidetracked by an immense library of books sculpted from ice, although I couldn’t ascertain the point of frozen, empty books.

  Eventually, we left the fortress and descended into another snow-filled valley. He stopped and pointed at the maze occupying the entire dip of the valley. In the centre, a low, blue light pulsed. ‘Some of my best work,’ Utgard-Loki said. ‘Even I cannot enter the maze’s heart, and I built it. Istapp is completely useless to me now other than as a deterrent.’

  ‘What’s so hard about the maze? It looks straightforward from here.’

  ‘Like the first three challenges,’ he said, ‘all is not as it seems. The twists and turns you must confront and defeat belong to your own mind. Your memories, everything you have held dear, will be your undoing. The more you deviate from the path destiny proscribed for you, the quicker you shall be ensnared.’

  I could teleport… ‘If I was to enter the maze or surpass it in spirit form, what would happen?’

  He frowned. ‘Your Vital Essence is the expression of the Orlog. It is your past, your present, and your future. Exactly what the maze shall feast upon.’

  ‘Wonderful.’

  He placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘Gatekeeper, remember the challenges. They were to prepare you, to remind you that winning and losing aren’t relevant when you’re playing the wrong game.’

  ‘What does that—’

  The Outland King had vanished. I was alone on the snowy slope, nothing standing between me and Istapp other than myself.

  37

  Thief in the Forest

  Menelaus touched Surt’s sword to the pile of wood, and the princess and her people whooped as the flame leapt up into the night air. Their cheering continued as Hellos and three other dwarves returned from their hunting trip, appearing from the trees with a wild boar carried between them.

  From the looks of the prisoners’ skinny arms and gaunt faces, this would be their first good meal in a while. ‘How long have Narvi and Vali occupied the capital?’ Menelaus asked, sitting down next to Jancit on a log, while the others dealt with the boar. He watched Hellos, who was busy making a spit. ‘Save me some blood,’ he said.

  Jancit stared at Menelaus. ‘Perhaps you should tell us how you ended up here, dhampir, before I answer your questions.’

  Rosalia took off her hat and placed it on her knees as she sat down on the adjacent log. ‘If it wasn’t for my brother,’ she said, ‘your people would still be rotting in a dungeon. Perhaps that is enough for you to trust him.’

  Jancit scowled but relented. ‘Loki’s sons have been lurking in the forests for several years but we held them off well enough. But that all changed once the cracks in the gateway started appearing. They took that as some kind of signal and came at us, wave after wave of undead beasts unhindered by sunlight. At first, they attacked the border villages, using the wreckage as a stepping stone to the capital.’

  Once the boar was ready to roast, Hellos joined them. ‘The Nine Realms are drawing closer together,’ he told the princess, ‘which is how I managed to return home.’

  ‘But it also makes it easy to move an army across Yggdrasil,’ Menelaus added.

  Jancit folded her arms and gazed into the crackling flames. ‘We have heard talk,’ she said, ‘about the Syphon. Do you know of this being?’

  ‘As it happens, he’s my cousin.’

  She twisted round to face him. ‘The Syphon is a dhampir?’

  ‘No, he’s a warlock.’

  ‘Human?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘May the gods help us all.’

  ‘I take it you think little of Midgardians?’

  ‘From what I hear,’ Jancit said, ‘they need no help destroying their own realm.’

  ‘But they shall have it anyway!’

  Menelaus shot to his feet as Akhenaten came storming in the camp, walking through the fire unaffected and kicking the boar over into the dirt. The dwarves scrambled backwards, avoiding the burning logs. Akhen held out his arm. ‘The sword!’

  Menelaus drew Surt’s weapon but the blinding light had no effect on Akhen – he didn’t even close his eyes. ‘Aten shields me, foolish halfling! Give me what Surt promised me or these little dwarves will all burn tonight.’ A small platoon of Golden Knives slipped into the clearing, grabbing Jancit and her half-starved people.

  Menelaus couldn’t use Brann against the golden-caped soldiers without killing their captives. He lunged at Akhen, plunging Brann into his gut. It slid through, unhindered.

  Akhen laughed. And flung out a bolt of light that smacked Menelaus in the face and sent him flying against a tree. Rosalia’s scream was the last sound he heard before he lost consciousness.

  Pain flashed across Menelaus’s face as he opened his eyes. He held his throbbing head in his hands, groaning. He blinked but his vision blurred. So he listened.

  ‘It’s quite simple, seer. You locate my queen, they retrieve her. If either party fail, you all die.’

  Already done that, Menelaus thought. He patted his hip, looking for Brann and finding nothing. He took it.

  ‘How did you know I had the sword?’ Menelaus said, forcing himself to sit against…what? Something cold, with a
lip like a bath. A bath? Where was he?

  Akhen’s harsh tone assaulted his ears. ‘Surt and I have certain goals in common,’ he said, ‘but we were unable to complete our deal in person.’

  Menelaus rubbed his eyes and searched for his outline against the light. ‘You wanted me to retrieve it,’ Menelaus said, ‘because you couldn’t enter Muspelheim and Surt couldn’t leave. But how did you know I would go after it?’

  His vision cleared in time to see Akhen’s smirk. ‘I have my ways.’ He turned to the woman sitting on the bed and Menelaus realised with a start that it was Ava. ‘Can you believe this, seer? Why is everyone so surprised? I am over three thousand years old.’

  She glared at him.

  Menelaus scanned his surroundings. ‘Where are we? Where’s Rosalia?’

  He turned his head at the sound of a muffled cry and spotted his sister gagged, bound, and slumped against the curved glass wall. Menelaus watched the clouds drifting past outside and clocked in a panic that he couldn’t see a door anywhere. ‘She put up quite a fight. You should be proud.’ Akhen said. He smiled at her. ‘If you’re a good girl, I will untie you.’

  ‘And the dwarves?’ Menelaus asked, mostly in an attempt to draw Akhen’s attention away from his sister.

  Akhen shrugged. ‘You’re lucky I don’t have time for fun and games. For now, it suits my purposes for the princess to distract Loki’s army.’

  Menelaus held onto the lip of the bath and pulled himself up. He still felt dizzy. They don’t have anyone to protect them now.

  He paused on sight of Ava, and that deep, uncomfortable yearn that surfaced whenever he looked at her threatened to bring him back to his knees. His eyes slid down to the tree-shaped ring on her wedding finger. She saw him looking and instinctively covered the ring with her other hand.

  When did that happen?

  Menelaus clutched his stomach as it squeezed – hard.

  ‘He needs blood,’ Ava said. It always unnerved him, how she saw into his soul. ‘If he’s to be strong enough to retrieve your queen.’