A Yank at Valhalla

by Edmond Hamilton

  "Your words are convincing," I answered as though deeply thoughtful. "We are alike. I think that I shall join you, Loki. Loki smiled at me; a weary, half-scornful, half-amused smile.

  "Jarl Keith, I thought better of you than to expect you to try such transparent stratagems as this upon me," he said. "Can you not understand that in experience you are to me but as a small child? Can you hope to dupe me when I can read your mind?"

  I looked up at him defiantly.

  "I would fight the devil with fire. You know the truth now, Loki. I have only hate for you, as for all traitors. You prepare to lead these savage Jotuns against your own people, because your own kind has cast you out."

  I know that got under his skin, for his eyes narrowed. His mouth tightened, and for a split-second I glimpsed that angelically beautiful face warp into a hell mask of white fury. It was as though the raging evil inside him looked forth naked and unhidden. The wolf Fenris, as though understanding his master's mood, sprang to his feet and snarled viciously at me. Then Loki's face cleared, and he laughed at me without a trace of ill-feeling.

  "You have courage, Jarl Keith, proving even more that you are like myself. Yes, you are afraid to admit to yourself how much we two are alike, and how much you like me."

  That shot got home to me, for I sensed that it was the truth. I did feel a sympathy for this fallen Lucifer that was hard for me to thrust down.

  "You shall stay prisoned here in Jotunheim until after our forces have conquered Asgard," Loki decided. "Once the Aesir are destroyed and the past cannot be recalled, I think you will be wise enough to join me as friend and follower." He raised his voice in a peremptory order. "Guards, return this prisoner to his cell!"

  The Jotun captain and his men came running from outside. Not daring even to look up at their overlord, they hustled me out of the hall.

  As I went with them, I looked back. Loki seemed already to have forgotten me. He sat in that dismal, mist-filled hall, brooding with chin in hand, his bright-gold head bent. The wolf Fenris looked up at him with faithful, brilliant green eyes.

  I was conducted back through the same dank corridors and passages to the subterranean level of the palace. The tall guards clanked toward the door of our cell and opened it. Without ceremony, I was thrust in. When the door was locked after me, the guards marched away.

  Freya came anxiously across the dark little cell and found her way into my arms.

  "I feared that you would not return, Jarl Keith," she moaned softly.

  "What did Loki want with you?" Frey asked, his pale face intent.

  I told them most of what had taken place. Freya listened with horror-widened eyes, her kinsman in thoughtful silence.

  "So Loki wishes you to join him," he muttered, when I had finished. "That is strange."

  "I think it's only because he's lonely," I said. "He has nothing but contempt for these Jotuns, whom he means to use merely to crush the Aesir. I felt a little sorry for him."

  Freya stared at me surprisedly. Frey's pale, handsome face tightened as he warned me.

  "Heed not the arch-traitor's subtle persuasions, Jarl Keith! Never lived anyone who could harm man or beast by his silver tongue and handsome face as can Loki."

  "Never fear," I reassured him. "My loyalty is with the Aesir. No tempting could ever change that."

  I went on to tell them of what Loki had told me in his laboratory, explaining his intention to use his storm-cones against the Aesir.

  "We must get back to Asgard and warn Odin, so he can prepare a defense," I concluded. "My flying ship is in the court on the citadel's riverside—"

  "How can we reach your craft when we can't even get out of this locked cell?" Frey replied hopelessly.

  "I think we can escape this cell, at least," I said. I drew from my pocket a handful of white chemical powder and showed it to them. "It's the chemical I always carried in my plane to melt ice from the wheels when necessary. I showed Loki this handful and then put it in my pocket."

  "What good will that do, Jarl Keith?" Freya asked puzzledly.

  "The lock on the door of this cell is a crude one, made of soft copper," I answered. "I believe this substance can burn away enough of the lock to free us. I'm going to try it anyhow."

  I stuffed the chemical powder into the large crevices of the clumsy lock. Then I took our jar of water and poured a little over the powder. The hissing and sizzling of the chemical reaction continued for several minutes. When it ceased, I gently tugged at the lock. It still held. I pulled harder, and with a rasp, it gave way.

  "Follow me," I whispered tensely. "I think I know the direction to the court where the plane is. If we only can get through the corridors without meeting anyone!"

  We emerged into the dusty stone passage. I led the way toward the right, taking the first cross-corridor that led northward. The cold chill of the night fog penetrated the marrow of our bones, and our nerves were harp-string taut as we pressed on through the dark corridors.

  Suddenly I shrank back into the shadows. I had seen two Jotun warriors approaching from a cross-corridor ahead.

  "Hurry!" one was urging the other fearfully. "Do you wish to meet the hideous one that now lurks in these passages?"

  "Frey, we'll have to jump them," I whispered. "Be ready."

  The two Jotuns came around the corner into our dusky corridor. Frey and I leaped on them, taking them utterly by surprise. What followed was not pretty. We had grabbed their throats, for it was essential that they should not give an alarm. There was a fierce, deadly scuffle in the misty, dark tunnel, until we throttled them.

  The Jotuns lay limp when Frey and I straightened, panting. We took the swords the two warriors had not had a chance to draw.

  "Come on," I panted. "This way. Those warriors must have entered from one of the outside courts."

  We hurried down the shadowy passage from which the Jotuns had come. Then Freya suddenly stopped, pulling me to a halt.

  "Listen, Jarl Keith," she urged in a hushed voice. "Something sinister is coming."

  In the silence, I heard a strange, silky, rustling sound in the dark and misty passage ahead. It was growing nearer, louder–

  A giant, spade-shaped head reared out of the curling mists ahead of us! Two opaline, unwinking eyes that held the dull glitter of an alien intelligence contemplated us from above a gaping mouth in which a forked red tongue flickered.

  "This is what the Jotuns feared!" Frey cried wildly.

  "The fates save us!" Freya prayed. "It is Iormungandr."

  I also recognized that giant, scaly body of long, rippling blackness, that huge head and those alien, glittering eyes. It was Iormungandr who towered before us in the misty dusk of the chill tunnel. The ageless and undying, the great Midgard serpent itself, was glaring down with blood-lusting eyes!

  Chapter XIII

  Flight and Death

  We stood petrified by horror in that foggy, stone-walled corridor, gazing cataleptically at the hideous creature whose reptilian head was rearing up from the curling white mists. Freya's slim figure had shrunk against me with a choking cry. Frey stood in front of us, his sword raised, his face wild as he looked up at the looming head.

  The hideous, abnormally huge coils could only be glimpsed in the mists beyond. But the giant spade-shaped head that hung above us was clear to our appalled vision. The enormous, opaline eyes were coldly brilliant as they stared down at us.

  In that moment of stupefying horror, I recognized the intelligence in those unwinking reptilian eyes. This ser- pent of a bygone age had lived on for centuries in this land of eternal youth, with its master Loki and wolf Fenris. It had acquired an intelligence comparable with the human. A strange mind shone from those coldly malignant eyes.

  "The Midgard snake!" Frey whispered.

  "Jarl Keith!" Freya screamed to me.

  The great head of the snake Iormungandr abruptly darted toward us. Frey struck out madly with his sword. I saw the blade slash into the scaly neck. But it caused only a shallow wound f
rom which merely a little black blood oozed.

  The Midgard serpent recoiled, however. Its opaline eyes flamed with rage. From the jaws of the monster, with a terrific hiss, came a cloud of fine green spray that flew toward Frey. He reeled back, covered by that weird vapor. But I leaped forward, dragging him and Freya ahead. I saw our single chance. The momentary recoil of the serpent had left open the mouth of a corridor on the right!

  "Quick!" I cried, pulling them toward the black passage.

  Frey seemed blinded by the green spray of the serpent. The monster's vast coils were twitching with rage, its head swaying angrily forward again. But we plunged safely into that branching corridor. It was utterly dark. As we stumbled forward in it, I heard a distant babble of alarm from the upper levels of the Jotun palace.

  "The Jotuns will be after us," I cautioned. "Loki will be warned of our escape."

  "Jarl Keith, Iormungandr follows us!" Freya cried wildly.

  The angry hiss of the giant serpent was echoing from the stone walls. And I could hear the loud rustle and scrape of its scaled body as it glided into the dark passage after us.

  No more than a few moments could have passed before we reached the end of the passage. But it seemed ages that we ran in blind, unreasoning terror. Slipping on the mossy, wet stone floor, we could hear the clamor of the far-off alarm grow louder and the hissing rustle of the Midgard snake overtaking us.

  Then I collided with a metal door that closed the end of the passage. My heart throbbed as if it would burst as I clawed frantically for the knob. If it were locked, if we were trapped here by the serpent–

  My hand found the catch, and I tore the door open. Outside was the open air. We stared at the night that was filled with curling white fog-mists through which shone the ghostly Moon. I pulled Freya and the stunned Frey through and slammed the door shut behind us. The catch fell. Next moment, there was a loud thump against the other side of the door as the Midgard snake's huge head struck it.

  We had emerged into one of the courtyards of the great palace. In the vague mists, the squat, brutal bulbs of Jotunheim's structures rose darkly all around us. But now torchlight was flashing from the upper windows of the palace as the alarm spread.

  "Which way?" Frey mumbled thickly, gaping about in the shrouding mists, his sword in his unnerved hand.

  "This way," I said decisively, leading them toward the left. "It's the next court."

  Then I heard the stamp of restless horses on the stone paving of an adjoining court. We ran forward. Frey was staggering like a drunken man as we burst into that adjoining court. Out of the mists loomed a Jotun guard, black-bearded, huge, his face a white blur in the fog.

  "Who are you?" he challenged. When he saw the fair hair of my two companions, he uttered a loud cry. "Aesir!"

  He struck at me with his sword, but I had the advantage of surprise. I ran in with an upward thrust of my blade, slid past his defense, ripped between the laces of his brynja. He collapsed, the alarm bubbling through the blood that filled his throat.

  I began running toward the vague shape of my rocket plane, which loomed out of the mist. But suddenly I remembered that the port window had been smashed when I had first landed on the sandy beach below Midgard's frowning cliffs. Flying in the cold, thin air of the Arctic, I might lose consciousness and crash into the sea. In any case, my hands would be too numb to handle the firing wheel.

  "Hold the ship against attack!" I shouted to Frey, handing him the guard's sword.

  As I rushed into the cabin, I glimpsed him standing with the sword in hand, but he was swaying drunkenly. I knew he could not hold off an attack for long, and I dragged on the flying togs I had discarded before climbing to Midgard plateau. The instant I strapped the oxygen tank to my shoulders, I heard Freya's terrified scream.

  "Jarl Keith, Frey is swooning, and Jotuns are coming!" I snatched a super-automatic from the supply compartment and dashed outside. The Moon slipped from behind the clouds, shining full on the Jotuns who were rushing up to attack. Horned helmet on his head, sword in hand and the golden mustache writhing above his savage lips, Loki was leading two fierce Jotun soldiers. But Freya was struggling with Frey's almost inert weight. The blade had slipped from his nerveless grasp.

  "Get him into the rear of the ship and close the door!" I shouted to the woman.

  The Jotun archer drew back the string of his bow to strike me down with a heavy arrow. I picked him off with a single snipe-shot. The pikeman raised his javelin, dropped it as a slug blasted away his skull. Before I could wheel on Loki and end the menace to the Aesir, Freya called to me in despair.

  "Jarl Keith, I cannot get him into the ship! He has swooned."

  I triggered a shot at Loki, saw him duck swiftly out of the bullet's path. Then I had no more time to fight. I hurled the gun and caught him on the right shoulder. The sword spun from his grip as he staggered back.

  Frantically I ran to the cabin door and dragged Frey inside. When I pointed quickly, Freya opened the door of the freight hold while I carried him in and laid him down on the floor. I wrapped him in blankets and told Freya to do the same. It would be warmer and more easy to breathe than in the cabin, for the ship was electrically warmed and synthetically oxygenated. But the smashed window of the cabin would leak its own air and warmth, and chill and thin the air of the hold, despite the tightness of the door I closed on them as I sprang back into the pilot room.

  Jotun reinforcements were charging up as I opened the jets wide and blasted off. The plane soared into the freezing air, and I was glad I had taken time to don my flying clothes and oxygen tank. Even through my wired suit, I could feel the numbing chill, and my lungs were laboring under the lessened pressure.

  Far below, I saw the glimmering river through the closing mist. The tall masts of Jotun ships looked like dowels. I twisted the firing wheel to top speed, and we rose so steeply that I thought the ship would slip into a tailspin. But it righted and zoomed higher, rocketing above the misty river and the dark, fog-shrouded forests beyond. When I looked back, the ominous citadel of Jotunheim was alive with moving torches. I could well imagine the blazing anger that Loki would vent upon the Jotuns because of our escape.

  "We're clear!" I thought exultantly. "Maybe by now Loki has more respect for outland science."

  I set the robot controls and searched through the spare-parts compartment for a new window. Fixing the smashed port was only a few moments' work. Then I opened the oxygen nozzles wide and let the cabin fill with fresh, invigorating air and warmth. I removed my flying togs and opened the freight hold door. Freya and I helped Frey into the cabin, put him in a seat. His blurred eyes looked less helpless, and he sat unsteadily but without collapsing.

  "Are you all right?" I asked anxiously.

  He nodded weakly.

  "Truly you outlanders have strange powers," he mumbled. "We must warn Odin of the attack…"

  "Loki means to use those devilish storm-cones to overcome the Aesir," I said. "We've got to devise some defense against that weapon."

  I went back to the controls and guided the plane above Midgard's black hills. Freya's frantic voice called to me over the roar of the rocket motor.

  "Jarl Keith, Frey has fallen!"

  I whipped around. He was lying on the floor, twitching. Then I saw something that horrified me. His body was covered with green spray which the Midgard snake had spat upon him. Around his bandaged wounds, his flesh was turning black!

  "The venom has entered his wounds!" I cried.

  I had never thought that a snake the size of Iormungandr could be poisonous. No Earthly serpent larger than nine or ten feet possesses venom. But I had forgotten that Loki's science had developed it to its huge size.

  Frey opened his fluttering eyes and stared dully at us. His lips moved feebly.

  "I've fought my last fight… The poison of the Midgard snake has slain me…"

  "Try to fight that venom!" I urged hoarsely.

  "The Norns have spun out my long life-thread at last�
�" he mumbled. "I would that I could see Gerda before I pass. But Wyrd ordains otherwise." His blearing eyes grew strangely brilliant and clear for an instant. "Jarl Keith, you have been a worthy comrade. I leave my kinswoman in your care, for I know you love her dearly. Try to save her in the day that approaches — the day of Ragnarok."

  Freya sobbed and the Aesir's eyes dilated, as though looking past us at some gigantic, terrifying spectacle.

  "I see Loki riding in fire and storm to destroy Asgard — I see the Aesir dying — I see the whole land—"

  His eyes closed abruptly, and his jaw sagged as his life departed.

  Freya turned a quivering, tear-stained face toward me as the plane thundered northward through the night.

  "Jarl Keith, he's dead. My kinsman was so great among the Aesir and has lived so long. Now he's dead."

  I felt a hard lump in my throat. Handsome, steadfast Frey had been my first friend among the Aesir.

  "We cannot help him now, Freya," I said. "Damn Loki and his fiendish schemes!"

  "Aye," said Freya bitterly. "My kinsman is but the first of many Aesir who must fall because the arch-traitor has been loosed."

  "And that happened only because I brought the rune key into Asgard," I said in heavy self-reproach. "I have been an evil guest to the Aesir, Freya."

  She clasped my hand. "Don't think thus, Jarl Keith! It is not your fault that Loki's powers brought you and the fateful rune key here. Sooner or later, he would have accomplished it somehow. All my people always feared that."

  Dawn was paling in the sky. During the last half-hour we had flown over most of the length of Midgard. Against the rose-flushed sky a few miles north of us stood the high, lofty little island of Asgard, with its eyrie of gray castles amid which Valhalla loomed mountainously. Already the flying arch of Bifrost Bridge was glittering as the short polar spring night ended,

  "We'll have to land on the field this side of the bridge," I mused. "There's not room enough to land safely in Asgard."

  I brought the plane down safely on the bare plain of the mainland promontory. As we emerged from it, over Bifrost Bridge from Asgard a long stream of Aesir warriors came galloping. At their head rode a yellow-haired, yellow-bearded giant, his great hammer swinging.