The ball crushed Pal’s hideous face, and the small giant fell to the ground.
Gamni’s face fell. “No! Pal! You killed him with my weapon!”
“You have a keen grasp of the obvious, Gamni,” Sif said, extricating her arm from the chain. “Now yield, or join them with Hela in the realm of the dead!”
To Sif’s complete lack of surprise, Gamni chose not to yield, instead lunging at her, arms outstretched.
He tackled her as she stood fast, sword outstretched, and they both fell to the ground in a heap. Gamni’s massive form was like a dead weight atop Sif, and she feared he would crush her from that alone, never mind whatever further attack he might now commit to.
But that further attack did not come, and Sif soon realized that the dead weight atop her was well and truly dead. She assumed that Gamni had fallen on her sword.
Gathering up every inch, every muscle, Sif pushed as hard as she could, and managed to roll Gamni’s body off her. Catching her breath, she looked over to see that the giant, now on his back, indeed had her blade protruding from his chest, as she had guessed.
Even as Sif fought the three giant brothers, the Warriors Three stood before Hrungnir himself, astride his gold-maned horse, surrounded by a phalanx of giants on foot who raised their weapons to prevent Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg from such a frontal assault as Thor had attempted.
But the Warriors Three did not allow such trivial concerns as a dozen giants stand in the way of their desire to trounce Hrungnir.
His great longsword Fimbuldraugr upraised, Fandral led the charge, diving directly into the fray by leaping through the air. As he came down toward two of the giants, he slashed at them both before landing on the head of a third.
A grin forming underneath his thick blond mustache, Fandral cried out, “Hogun! A gift for you!” as he again leapt in the air, being sure to kick off the head of the giant he’d landed upon.
The force of his kick sent the giant sprawling toward the ground, but his progress was impeded by Hridgandr, the mace of Hogun. The grim one swung his great weapon into the giant’s face, crushing the creature’s outsized nose.
Fandral leapt to another giant’s head and from that vantage point was able to smack another with the flat of his blade before again leaping and kicking to drive his temporary mount toward the ground.
“And one for you, voluminous one!” Fandral cried to Volstagg.
“Only one?” Volstagg asked as he reached back and then walloped the giant with a crushing right hook, which redirected the unfortunate giant to land atop the one whose face Hogun had pulverized. “You do insult the Lion of Asgard, Fandral, by only giving him one foe to vanquish!”
Hogun, typically, said nothing, instead sliding across the ground and using his mace to trip two of the giants, sending them both stumbling to the ground.
However, they too found their journey to the dirt impeded by the fists of Volstagg. “See, Fandral? Hogun does appreciate Volstagg’s prowess, for he gives me two giants to thrash!”
Normally, Fandral would reply to Volstagg’s egotistical ramblings only by mocking them, but no appropriately cutting retort came to his lips. So he said nothing as he sheathed his sword and leapt to another giant, while Volstagg delivered a pair of uppercuts which sent both Hogun’s giants flying to land atop the other two.
Fandral now hung onto the shoulders of one of the giants, dangling from the creature’s back as if he were a cape. The giant struggled, trying to reach behind himself to grab the dashing one. For his part, Fandral took advantage of the giant’s stumbling struggles to kick at his fellows. When the giant lumbered over to where the four giants lay atop each other, Fandral let go of the right shoulder. Reaching for his blade, he again unsheathed Fimbuldraugr from its scabbard and ran the giant through.
Even as the creature fell on top of his four insensate comrades, Fandral leapt to the head of another giant—but this one was ready for his assault and grabbed Fandral around the waist.
Fandral tried to gasp in pain, but even that was denied him as the giant’s iron grip kept him from drawing breath.
Hogun had just tripped another giant for Volstagg to clout when he saw that Fandral was snagged. Without hesitating, he twirled Hridgandr and threw the mace toward the giant’s head.
Though the giant did not fall, the impact of the mace against his temple did cause him to loosen his grip on Fandral, enough so that he was able to push apart the giant’s fingers enough so that he could leap away, landing on the ground right next to Volstagg.
“Ho, Fandral, have you decided to at last join in the fight instead of dancing about like a will-o’-the-wisp?”
Long accustomed to ignoring Volstagg’s badinage for the good humor that it was, Fandral merely said, “I see no reason for you to have all the fun, voluminous one.”
“Then let us thrash these unruly giants together!”
As the Warriors Three continued their battle against the giants protecting Hrungnir, Balder stood against a half dozen giants of his own.
“Be wary of Balder, my brothers,” one of them said.
Another said, “He is alleged to be Asgard’s greatest warrior, even greater than Thor!”
“Bah,” said a third, “he’s all talk and no action.”
“Don’t be so sure of that!” cried the fourth, who cringed a bit.
The fifth said, “’Twas he who singlehandedly gave Utgard-Loki his greatest defeat.”
To Balder’s surprise, the sixth said nothing, choosing instead to simply growl.
With a smile beneath his flat-horned helm, Balder said, “’Twas not singlehanded, for I had aid from my friends in bringing Utgard-Loki to heel. Either way, you would think that the frost giants would give Asgard in general and me in particular a wide berth after that. But then, your kind has never been renowned for being quick of mind.”
“Get him!”
Four of the giants ran toward Balder at once, and the brave one did almost pity their simplistic strategy. Even as the quartet of large creatures converged on a small target, Balder quickly dove away from his position, leaving the four giants to crash into each other, their massive heads colliding with those of their fellows.
As the foursome collapsed in a heap of cranial trauma, Balder turned his attention to the other two, which included the one who recalled his defeat of Utgard-Loki and the one who only growled.
The growler raised an axe and swung it directly at Balder’s head with a speed that belied his massive form. Balder heard the whistle of the axe’s blade as he barely managed to dodge it.
However, the other giant rather sensibly tackled Balder with a low dive when he was in his crouch. Balder and the giant rolled about on the ground for several seconds before Balder was able to extricate himself.
Now Balder stood between the two giants, the growler with his axe and the other one with his great sword.
For several seconds, Balder managed to keep both at bay. He ducked the growler’s axe and parried the other’s sword, then kicked the growler in the shin followed by a strike at the other’s side, barely parried in time by the great sword. He rolled between the growler’s legs, thus avoiding a swing of the great sword, and keeping the axe from cleaving his head in twain.
A much louder growl, now, as the giant turned and swung his axe at Balder, but this time Balder raised his sword to parry the blow, rather than dodge it. The giant’s growl was cut off by an “Arooo?” of surprise, as the axe slammed into Balder’s sword with a bone-shuddering impact of metal on metal. The giant stared, transfixed. Every other time some fool had tried to parry his great axe with a sword, the sword had been shattered by the giant’s sheer strength.
Until now.
Balder took advantage of the giant’s shock to rear back and punch the creature in the stomach with his full strength. The growling giant fell to the ground, having lost the ability to catch his breath.
That left just the one with the great sword, who regarded Balder angrily. “What did you mean that
we are not renowned for being quick of mind?”
Rather than respond verbally, Balder simply pressed the attack with his own sword. The giant parried with surprising skill. Indeed, each time Balder pressed his attack, the giant responded with a parry that Balder recognized as a formal move from his own training as a youth.
“I am impressed,” he said to his opponent. “Most giants rely on their brute strength to win the day, yet you possess skill with a blade that rivals even my own!”
“Say instead that my skill surpasses yours, for I am Bjarni, son of Thjasse, great-grandson of Ymir himself, and from this day forth I shall be known as the one who killed Balder the Bra—”
The rest of Bjarni’s rant was cut off as Balder smacked Bjarni on the side of the head with the flat of his blade.
Bjarni fell to the ground, stunned, both from the blow to his head and at not being able to fulfill what he had expected to be his destiny.
Balder looked about and saw that Sif was now being harried by several giants, and the ones the Warriors Three had taken on were similarly ganging up on the trio. Hrungnir himself was hanging back away from the fighting, but unable to proceed forward to Asgard due to the melee he had inspired.
Now that he had a moment to himself, however, Balder had a tactic he could employ. But before he could begin to do so, he heard a distant rumbling.
And then the ground shook beneath everyone’s feet as the sound of thunder filled the air.
And then the sky crackled with lightning that flashed in everyone’s eyes.
And then a red-and-blue figure flew upward into the sky and started hurtling toward the giants.
Goldfaxi reared back on his hind legs and gave a pitiful whinny at the display. Hrungnir had to struggle to maintain his grip upon the horse, his legs tightening around the horse’s middle while his hands clutched the reins for dear life.
Thor rocketed through the air and smashed into Hrungnir, knocking the giant from his mount.
The giants all ceased what they were doing, stunned at seeing their leader brought low.
Thor came around for another pass. “Yield, Hrungnir, or face the wrath of a storm as only the god of thunder can rain down upon you!”
“Make it rain all you wish, Thor,” Hrungnir bellowed over the sound of the precipitation crashing down upon the plain, “but I shall not rest until I have had my revenge! I have already had indignity rained upon me from Asgard, so let your storm fly! Asgard will be mine, and Odin’s broken body will be laid at my feet!”
“I say nay,” Thor cried. “I say never! Asgard shall not be yours as long as I draw breath!”
“Time to end your breathing, then.” Hrungnir grinned and leapt back upon Goldfaxi.
Thor whipped ’round his hammer. More thunder roared. More lightning flashed. And more giants cringed.
Balder knew that the giants’ shock could only make his plan a better one. Balder had often been called “the shining one,” and those words were no mere poetry.
“Everyone,” he cried out, “shield your eyes!”
And then Balder used his unique ability to glow brightly.
Sif, Thor, and the Warriors Three all covered their eyes, while the frost giants felt the brightness even more than they were blinded by it. For Balder’s brightness was that of the sun itself, and it was anathema to the frost giants, who preferred the chill of winter to the glow of summer that Balder’s power provided.
Seeing what his dear friend had done, Thor immediately whirled his hammer as fast as he could over his head.
The thunder and lightning intensified more and began to strike the individual giants one by one.
Those frost giants who were not felled immediately ran out into the Ida Plain.
One of those was Hrungnir who, with a murderous look at the thunder god, kicked Goldfaxi into a gallop.
Again Thor whirled his hammer, but this time it was to have Mjolnir take him to the air again. Flying over the plain, he had a spectacular view of all the giants scattering to the winds, running toward the mountains at the far end of Ida. Ahead of all of them was Hrungnir atop Goldfaxi.
“Come storm!” Thor cried. “Obey your master, Thor, and strike at the varlets who would invade the glowing halls of Asgard! Strike! And do not cease until our enemies lie insensate at the feet of the god of thunder!”
Thor felt the power of the storm course through Mjolnir and through him. His birthright was to make the thunder and lightning obey him, and he gathered that power to him and let it loose through his hammer upon the Ida Plain.
Lightning cracked, thunder boomed, and rain fell from the sky in sheets, pelting the giants and forcing them to their knees.
Sif, Balder, and the Warriors Three strode out into the plain, the rain rattling off their armor, and they gathered up the frost giants. Their foes whimpered, having been weakened by Balder’s glow and frightened by Thor’s might.
Thor landed alongside his friends and soon they had all the forlorn frost giants rounded up around the pile of more than half a dozen giants that had fallen as a result of Volstagg’s fists.
And then he realized that one was missing.
“Where is Hrungnir?”
The others looked about, but the very storm that Thor had summoned had reduced visibility to almost nothing. The warriors of Asgard could barely even see the nearby mountains.
Thunder echoing behind her words, Sif said, “I do not see him, nor his gold-maned horse.”
Thor shook his head. “Hrungnir’s mount is second only to my father’s own Sleipnir for speed. In truth he might easily have been able to outrun even this storm.”
Fandral laughed, his well-kept blond hair now a dark brown and flat against his head from the rain. “What does it matter? We have taken Hrungnir’s subjects!”
Volstagg added, “Hrungnir would be best to use his speedy horse to ride as far from Asgard as possible, lest he feel Volstagg’s wrath as his fellows did.”
“Yes,” Sif said, “I doubt we will hear much from Hrungnir after this defeat.”
Thor raised his hammer upright, and within moments the storm dispersed, the rain slowed to nothing, and the sun started to shine again.
“Today is another victory, my friends! Let us bring these perfidious giants to Odin’s dungeon. They shall enter the city gates, not as the invaders they had hoped, but as our prisoners. And then tonight—we feast!”
All five of Thor’s fellow warriors cheered Thor as they led or carried the defeated giants to their fate.
Chapter Five
“Hilde! Flosi’s touching me!”
“Am not! I wouldn’t ever touch you, Alaric!”
“Would too!”
Gunnhild, daughter of Volstagg, hated being called Hildy—that was a stupid little girl’s name—but was willing to be called Hilde, a subtle but important difference. She rolled her eyes at the behavior of her younger siblings.
Mother and Frigga were taking the children of Asgard to a place in the Vale of Crystal to be safe in case the frost giants invaded. They had charged Hilde with keeping an eye on Alaric and Flosi, one of her younger brothers and one of her younger sisters, who had been fighting for weeks.
Because she was the oldest girl, Hilde was always stuck taking care of the babies when Mother was too busy. This once, Hilde didn’t mind so much, since she knew it was important for everyone to behave, and—even with Frigga’s help—Mother had her hands full with all the other children of Asgard.
This wasn’t the first time this had happened. When Surtur attacked Asgard, Frigga had taken the children into the mountains to hide. Odin had told Hilde that he wanted the children to protect his wife, and Hilde had believed him at the time, but now that she was older and smarter, Hilde knew better.
She wondered if these frost giants were as dangerous as Surtur. She guessed they had to be, if Odin sent them all away again.
“Flosi, stop touching me!”
“I’m not!”
Hilde sighed. She, Flosi, Alaric, and the r
est of Volstagg’s children were in the middle of the pack. Mother led the way through the mountain path, which was covered in snow; on one side was a huge drop to the ground that got even bigger the farther along they went. At least the path was wide, and everyone was staying on the side of the path that had the mountain.
Frigga took up the rear, making sure that the ones in back didn’t stray off the snow-covered path. She was armed, which was different from the last time. When they ran from Surtur, the queen of Asgard had not been armed. That worried Hilde that the threat of the frost giants might even be worse.
Then again, Odin had been lost in the battle against Surtur, and not restored to Asgard for some time. Maybe Frigga just wanted to be prepared for the worst this time.
“Hilde, make her stop touching me!”
“I’m not touching you! I wouldn’t touch you if I had to touch you to stop Ragnarok!”
Hilde cried out, “Enough! If you two don’t stop talking, I’ll throw both of you over the mountain!”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Alaric tried to sound tough, but Hilde could tell that he was scared that she’d actually do it.
Flosi was more defiant. “She won’t. Mother would never forgive her if she killed us.”
“Oh really?” Hilde asked, fists clenched. “I think that Mother will be grateful to have two fewer mouths to feed, and two less people making noise all the time. Wanna see who’s right?”
Both Flosi and Alaric gulped audibly and then kept walking without saying a word.
Hilde smiled. It was just a question of reasoning with the little ones.
They trudged through the snow a bit farther in lovely silence.
So of course, it couldn’t last. Out of nowhere, Alaric asked, “What’s that noise?”
“Will you be quiet?” Hilde said
But then Flosi said, “I hear it, too!”
Those two wouldn’t even agree that the sky was blue, so if they each heard something, there probably was a noise.
And then Hilde heard it, too. It almost sounded like a horse galloping.
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