by Eando Binder
Then, not wishing to prolong his agony, I picked him up in my two hands like a rag-dummy and threw him against the solid wall, twenty feet away, with such force that his skull cracked like an egg-shell.
Thrym, relentless enemy of Asgard, was dead!
But my mission was not quite over. All the previous episode had taken only seconds. The other Giants had watched in paralyzed fascination. They could not believe now that their mighty king was dead. They were stunned.
I moved with my full speed.
First I grabbed up Thrym’s club, from beside his throne. It was of solid oak, six feet long, knobbed and weighted with stone. Flicking it lightly, I ran down the line of sub-men, cracking their skulls. I was merciless now, serving death at this table. I had committed myself to Asgard. I was fighting for the human race, against creatures who know no mercy themselves.
I laid out half their number before any of them retaliated. Then, with wild cries, they snatched up their clubs and ganged on me. Or tried to. I moved back and forth among them with smooth, unmatchable speed, picking them off methodically.
Then Giants poured in from outside, hearing the commotion. A hundred to one they faced me. But not one of their clubs could strike me except for glancing blows that knocked off my plastic disguise. Now I stood before them in naked metal, sparks shooting from my joints, as always when my locomotion-centers are surcharged in action.
“Die, enemies of Asgard!” I thundered with each killing blow of my blood-spattered club.
“It’s the mighty warrior of the bridge!” gasped a Giant who had obviously been there. “Call in all the men!”
AND Giants began to pour in till there was hardly room to move. I was in danger now. Blows began to rain down on me, denting my body. I could not kill them all in less than an hour. And in an hour they would succeed in pounding me to bits.
I changed tactics. I ran into the fire and kicked burning embers into their faces, sending them screeching back. Then I proceeded to pull the place down. There were four supporting posts in the interior, long as telephone-poles. I put my arms around each and yanked them away. The roof came down. With one of the poles as a battering ram, sweeping Giants aside, I stove in the walls. The whole business came down on shrieking Giants in one rumbling crash.
I strode out of the ruins of the Fort-by-the-sea. A gasp of amazement came from those of the Giants who had not been able to crowd in. They thought surely I had been crushed myself. They made no move to come at me. Most seemed ready to run at a moment’s notice.
I raised my voice to a thunder that I knew would be heard by every ear within a mile, if some had run off.
“Your fort, from which you attacked Asgard, is destroyed. Do not build another, or I will destroy that. I am the champion of Asgard, and will save it from your mightiest assaults. When you have chosen your new king, I will come to address him and warn him he must not molest Asgard. Now begone!”
The last word crashed through the air like an explosion. I waved my arms, deliberately causing my electrical distributor to shove excess current through my body. From every joint and seam sprang livid sparks that lit up the night scene weirdly.
I thought of a curious name for myself, culled from another “fable.” I was Adam Link, the Giant killer!
In silent awe and fear, the Giants melted away toward their home-land further north.
I STALKED back to my time-ship, well satisfied. I had done my part for Asgard. If the Giants dared attack again, they must be stupidly courageous.
I started as a figure loomed before the ship. It was Loki. I had completely forgotten him.
“I sneaked out at the first sign of hostilities,” he said frankly. “And ran back here. I saw what you did, from a distance. Odin will be pleased. You did your job well, Adam Link!”
Almost, I could hear his thoughts add—“too well!” I wondered what the mysterious, secretive half-breed had in his mind. Had he hoped it would turn out another way, with Adam Link destroyed? Had he really expected to deliver me in the enemy’s hands for riddance, not realizing himself what powers I had?
Loki would bear watching, I told myself.
Hilarity reigned in Asgard castle for the rest of that night, when the story was told.
“You are the mightiest being that ever lived!” Odin exulted. “With you as our champion, Asgard will survive. There will be no Ragnarok!”
No Ragnarok! A slight chill went through me. Immutable history changed! What paradox lurked like a crouching beast behind all this? I made a decision, not to go too far.
I addressed Odin.
“I cannot stay as your champion. I must still search for Thor, in your history. And then return to my native land, where important tasks await me. I will do this much. First, I will go back among the Giants and impress their new king with my powers, so that he will remember for a long time, even after I’m gone. Secondly, I’ll finish making new flame-guns, with which you can defend Asgard yourselves. But I cannot stay.”
THREE days later, I took a trip in the time-ship to Utgard, the capital of Jutenheim, boldly. I took Loki with me. He would work wholeheartedly with me, to bring peace between Asgard and Jutenheim, for I suspected that would quiet his torn sympathies.
We landed in the crude, slovenly village of thatched huts, just a step above the cave-life of Neanderthal Man. In the background loomed a glittering glacier, slowly retreating as the Ice Age waned.
Giants surrounded us as we stepped out, but no hostile move was made. They looked over my metal frame with plain fear and respect. I asked to be led before the new king.
King Skyrmir was not so huge a man as Thrym had been. His face was less coarse. I divined that he had an ounce more of brains, and could be diplomatic. Or cunning.
“I am Adam Link, champion of Asgard,” I announced myself. “I have come to prove to you that I am the mightiest being on Earth. Give me any tests you wish, if you do not believe.”
Skyrmir looked me over calculatingly. “I will give you three tests,” he returned after some thought. “First, see if you can empty my drinking horn at one draft!”
I started. How had Skyrmir thought of that, in his aboriginal mind? For the one thing that was dangerous to me was any liquid in my vitals, creating short-circuits. I glanced at Loki narrowly, wondering if he had sent a message to the king, preparing these tests. But Loki was expressionless.
What could I do? If I refused to take the test, I would instantly lose prestige. I had to go through with it. I nodded, taking the foot-long drinking horn offered. It was filled with a dark brew. I sipped slowly, realizing my danger. One internal spark in a vital spot and I might fall down helpless. Their clubs could then demolish me in a short time.
I sipped the liquid, but gave the illusion of taking a long, steady pull. I felt the dripping fluid going past bare wires and live studs. If I took extreme care, the liquid would safely dribble down into my leg hollows and drain away.
Skyrmir watched me closely. I could feel Loki’s eyes on me. Suddenly smoke spurted from my mouth. A short-circuit, within! A minor one, luckily, that only burned out one of a dozen fine, duplicated wires. But it was the danger signal.
I handed the horn back, shaking my head. I had only “drunk” half of it. I couldn’t take a chance with more.
The Giant king curled his lip. “The mightiest being on Earth, yet you cannot empty a horn that my youngest son can down in one gulp!”
Stung, I half reached for the horn again, recklessly, but thought better of it.
“Give me some other test,” I grated. “Test my strength.”
SKYRMIR led me to what amounted to the village square. A crowd was gathered there, to see this strange event. The Giant pointed to a stone lying on the ground. It was moss-covered, hoary, as though it had lain there for an age.
“Lift that, Adam Link!”
How ridiculous! A mere stone weighing perhaps a ton. I put one hand under a ridge of it and heaved. The scrape of metal against stone sounded loudly, but the stone di
d not move! Surprised, I used both hands, but couldn’t budge it. Finally, in exasperation, I got a new hold and applied the full leverage of my major leg muscle-cables. Gears within me whined. Sparks crackled. Every cog strained to its utmost.
But I could not so much as raise it one inch.
I gave a furious, reckless heave. Every watt of power in me surged through my motive plant. One end of the stone came up just a foot, creakily. I felt as though I had lifted one side of a mountain. Or at least ten tons of dead weight.
“Can’t you lift that stone any higher?” mocked Skyrmir. “You who are the mightiest being on Earth? Come, one more test. Wrestle with our champion, who is mightier than you!”
He led me now to an alcove in the side of a cliff-face. The lighting was dim. Something loomed before me, and Skyrmir pointed at it silently. It seemed to be a thick figure. I grasped it, to throw it to the floor, whoever or whatever it might be.
I think I was the most surprised being on Earth, rather than the mightiest, as my opponent stiffened and somehow threw me against the rock wall like a cannon-shot. Luckily I landed with my shoulder, denting it badly, rather than my skull.
I am human, mentally. I was utterly humiliated. I had failed to pass any of the tests with honors. A terrible rage came up in me. I ran back to the figure, encircled it, and forced it to the floor. But only for a moment. Then it again reared, and flung me back reeling. A third time I tried, digging my heel-plates into the hard ground and hanging on with all my power. This time I held my adversary down for all of ten seconds, before he again arched up and whirled me away.
I told myself to give up. My mysterious wrestler—there was no way out of it—had more strength than I! What being could I be pitted against? Lightning lanced in my mind. “Thor!” I yelled.
I ran back, eagerly now—only to find the wrestler gone.
“Where is he?” I yelled. “Call him back! It must be Thor, another robot with a covering over his metal.” I was still enraged too. “Call him back. I’ll finish him if it’s the last thing I do!”
A furious bellow answered me, from somewhere deeper in the cave. Was Thor a sort of “animal” robot—all power and little brain? Had the Giants captured him, from Asgard, perhaps centuries ago, holding him so that he could not help defend Asgard?
But then Skyrmir pulled me away. “Enough,” he said outside, before his people. You have failed in three simple tests. Go back, champion of Asgard! We do not fear you!”
The crowd jeered. But I saw something in Skyrmir’s face—a look of hollow fear behind his mockery. And I detected an unmistakable bitter disappointment in Loki’s features. Not over my failure—but my winning!
CHAPTER X
Ragnarok!
I GRABBED Loki’s arm, squeezing.
“What do you know of this, Loki?
Tell me! Tell me or I’ll—”
Loki talked, as his arm bone threatened to snap under my fingers.
“Trickery,” he admitted. “The drinking horn was filled with a deadly poison. No living being could drink one-tenth what you did without dying on the spot.
“The stone is one with a thin base that connects to a much larger stone underneath. In lifting one end, you very nearly raised a buried mountain.
“And your opponent in wrestling was really—”
I did not have to hear more. Deadly poison in the horn! The stone like a submerged iceberg, with the bulk of its weight and size hidden. And the Thor-robot held in captivity, so that it might never again defend Asgard, as it probably had centuries before, beyond the memory of those now living. A robot could live indefinitely, if made originally with some self-charging unit for electrical current.
I had passed the tests with flying colors! I had proved more than ever that I was a being to be feared, with prodigious strength.
My thoughts clicked ahead rapidly.
Who had devised these tests, any of which might have wrecked me? One unlucky short-circuit with the liquid, one major gear stripping at the stone, one good crunch against the cave-wall by Thor—the one creature who had strength equal to mine—and I would have been helpless.
My stare was on Loki. Only he could have known, or hoped, that liquid poison might finish me, mechanically if not biologically. Loki was the instigator, hoping to destroy me so that Asgard would fall before the Giants.
I squeezed his arm tighter, snapping the bone.
“You have finally turned traitor to Asgard, Loki,” I hissed. “I should have seen it coming. You have sacrificed your human heritage now. Stay among the Giants. And you will not dare attack Asgard, while I am there!”
With that I leaped toward my time-ship. Loki screamed for the Giants to stop me, at any cost of life. A mass of them blocked my way. I leaped over their heads, landing by the hatch. I felled a dozen who attempted to grab me, and leaped in, banging the hatch tight.
When I sprang to the controls, I saw the full extent of Loki’s treachery. He had sneaked in the time-ship, while I was busy taking the tests, and done as much damage as he could with a club. Fortunately, the metal parts had withheld somewhat. The controls were damaged, but not ruined.
I did a hasty, makeshift repair job, arising finally an hour later. During that time, the Giants had been battering at the ship with huge battering-rams, hoping to smash it. But I had built the hull sturdily. They bashed in all the windows. The apertures were too small for any Giant to crawl in. Toward the last, with Loki screaming orders, they had built a huge fire around the ship, heaping logs on it. The flames heated the hull. When I arose, the metal glowed cheery-red. The interior was furnace-hot. Any human would have shriveled to a crisp.
But a robot can laugh at heat. In the air, the ship cooled rapidly. I wobbled back to Asgard, and landed the ship with a bump that shook my makeshift wire-connections loose again.
I HAD little time to tell my story, for the Giants attacked that same day, led by Loki. All the legions that Thrym had gathered, in case Freya were not presented as his bride, marched toward Asgard.
Odin’s eyes numbed, as he looked from the high tower.
“Thousands upon thousands!” he whispered. “This is the greatest attack known. And Loki leads them, with his arm in a sling. Loki, the son of my father—”
His voice broke. Then he straightened, girding on his golden armor grimly.
“Ragnarok!” he muttered half to himself.
“No!” I ground out. “I won’t let it be! I’m your champion. I’ll save Asgard, and to hell with destiny!”
He looked at me in tragic calm.
“You have mentioned destiny often, Adam Link, as though it is written that Asgard must fall. Perhaps it is so. You have done your best for us!”
He went below, to face the enemy.
“Done my best—and failed!” I groaned to Eve. “Is this destiny’s hand, after all? Destiny that Loki is attacking before I finished the flame-guns? And while our time-ship is useless? Still, I can fight them—”
Another disturbing thought struck me.
“Loki seems confident, now is the time to strike, in spite of my presence. Why doesn’t he fear me? The Thor-robot—perhaps it’s just a dumb, witless machine that will obey any voice. It fought me in the cave. Will Loki set Thor against me—the only creature who has a chance against me?”
What a reversal of fable-history that would be—Thor helping in the downfall of his own Asgard! But then fable could hardly be accurate about all the things of a dim antiquity.
“I almost wish you hadn’t discovered Thor,” Eve murmured. “It’s so disappointing. A mere, dull robot, probably left from the days of Norse civilization, used first by the Asgardians as a fighting machine, and now by the enemy. All the glamour, and splendid heroism of the Thor of fable turns out to be sheer invention.”
Heimdal’s horn sounded suddenly in a crescendo, from outside by the Bifrost Bridge. The attack had started!
I started below.
“The flame-gun!” Eve reminded. “Odin neglected it. Is he tha
t certain there is no hope—”
I had forgotten the gun myself. I sprang to it, aimed. When I pressed the trigger, a livid blast of infra-energy hurtled through the air. A hundred of the advancing Giants fell as shriveled, blackened corpses. But the legions came on.
I fired twice more, and then the gun was silent. The last symbol of ancient might flickered out. Ragnarok was at hand!
I refused to accept it. Asgard must not be taken.
“Work on our time-ship, Eve!” I rasped out. “Repair it as fast as you can. With that, we can stop them. In the meantime, I’ll help in the defense of the bridge-head.”
I RACED below. I had no way of getting there now except by crossing the bridge. But my first few ponderous steps set it to shaking and vibrating dangerously.
“Njord!” I called. “Where are your boats?”
Njord, the mariner, led me below to where docks extended into the water. I unhooked the largest of the flat-bottomed boats and rowed out into the Straits. It was slow going. Already the advance forces of the Giants had arrived at the bridge and were engaging the Asgardian force there.
Loki’s figure appeared at the bank, looking out over the water. I could almost see the writhing hate in his face, at sight of me. And the cunning. With Loki as general, the Giant forces were a formidable threat.
I saw him giving orders. Giants dragged up huge wooden structures—catapults. Loki had probably had them secretly built weeks before, planning the downfall of Asgard. Huge boulders arced across the water at my boat. Their aim was bad, so that I got within fifty feet of shore, without danger. But then boulders began to whiz all about me. One came straight for the boat. I caught it and hurled it back, wrecking one of the catapults.
But I could not catch or stop the huge boulder that finally stove in the bottom of my boat. Water pushed up. Water—to me the most deadly menace in the world. I would sink like a stone and lie forever at the bottom of the Straits.