The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  “Single file, everyone,” said Margret. “And if we separate, we meet inside the antique shop at the end. And Grum, no stopping and admiring clothes.”

  “How did she know?” whispered Grum to no one in particular.

  After a few minutes of avoiding people loaded down with antiques, practically everyone in the party had had someone approach them and ask if they could purchase something from them. In Grum’s case, his war hammer (“Not for sale,” he grumbled), Farling’s shield (“I would not part with this,” he claimed), Sihr’s staff (“A gift from a friend and one I cherish too much,” he stated), Margret’s circlet (“My mother’s,” she said), and Arastead’s ring (“My finger has grown so fat the ring may not be removed,” he lied).

  Once inside the antique store, they were allowed passage into the back room through the curtain. There were no customers in this room and everyone let out a sigh of relief, even the were-beasts, at having made it through the crush of shoppers.

  “On your best behavior,” Margret directed at the were-beasts. “This is your first time visiting and thieves are not the most trusting.”

  “We fear no one,” said Liulfr.

  “Then fear me,” said Margret, her voice stern.

  “Of course, princess,” said Liulfr apologizing quickly. “We will remember our manners.”

  “Good,” she said. “Blacksmiths, one of you, if you could be so kind with the entrance?’

  “Of course,” said Farling as he pressed his amulet against the back wall and a hidden door magically materialized.

  The were-beasts grunted in surprise.

  “I lead,” said Farling, “as they know me well.”

  He opened the door. “Hello, Master Horund,” he said.

  “Anything to declare?” demanded Horund.

  Farling shook his head. Said: “Nothing to declare. There are others to sign in, and there are guests as well.”

  Everyone filed in and the door de-materialized behind them. Horund, the bookkeeper, grumpy as always, kept detailed notes on what everybody said, and wrote all the were-beasts names down in his ledger.

  “Wait a bit,” said Sihr. “You just told Horund you had nothing to declare in the way of stolen goods. You only tell that to him if you are members of this guild.”

  Farling, Grum, and Arastead all nodded.

  “When did this happen?” asked Sihr, shocked.

  “Let us walk and talk on our way to the library,” said Farling. “We have some pretty big battles coming up. Or at least we expect there to be some big battles. And in some of those fights, we may be up against wizards, or sorcerers, necromancers, you know the type, those who wield magic. And the Graydon Armor is our best defense against magic users. Grum wore the armor when he fought Mage in a practice match, and the armor did weaken Mage. So, we made a deal with Einar: If he lends us the armor, we become full-fledged members of this guild, not just honorary members.”

  Beornheard rumbled: “May any one join this guild?”

  “You may ask Einar when you meet him,” said Farling. “He is master of this guild, and all report to him. I am confident he would accept you as membership is down.”

  “You mean dead,” said Grum.

  “It is not easy being a member of this guild,” admitted Farling. “If you do become members, I suspect you will need to apologize to the Pitcairn thieves guild, as you four caused a lot of damage there.”

  Margret said: “You may need to make reparations of some sort to that guild.”

  “I will discuss the matter with my brothers,” said Liulfr, “as it sounds a little more complicated than first thought.”

  After walking down the halls and answering the usual questions asked from the were-beasts about how the sky looked different here than in Trondheim, they found themselves in the library.

  There, things had changed a great deal. Where it had once been a place of quiet and solitude, it was now a bustling place of commerce as the only portal rune linking the Trondheim thieves guild to the Pitcairn thieves guild was in the library.

  Shelves of books still lined the library, but all had been pushed away from the portal rune. Even Pressan’s desk had been pushed tightly up against the wall.

  Near the portal, talking with Pressan, was Einar. Pressan noticed Farling and the group as they entered the library and invited them over with a wave of his hand.

  “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” said Einar turning to face the group.

  Margret introduced the were-beasts to Einar and Pressan.

  “Good to put faces to names,” said Einar. His arms remained crossed across his chest and so did not shake hands.

  Margret said: “Circumstances have changed and so the were-beasts now help us.”

  “Their loyalties are fickle,” said Einar guardedly.

  “Well, their loyalty is to me, and not to realm or guild,” said Margret.

  The answer surprised Einar. “Well, a most interesting bodyguard then,” he said. “Loyalty like this will be tested at some point.”

  Liulfr interjected. “It has been tested,” he said. “Our loyalty to the princess is without doubt. Were it not for her bravery in the assassins guild, we four would have been captured or worse. We owe our lives to her and so our lives are for her to command.”

  Einar nodded. “Yes, the assassins guild was messy, was it not,” he said. “Now, if I am not mistaken, I recognize you have a new weapon, Margret. Or, more accurately, Frederick’s old spear has returned from the dwarf-realm.”

  “It has,” she said, adjusting her grip on the spear. “We also bring news from the castle.”

  “Yes,” began Einar, “the elf king Amaliji is dead, broken first by Queen Astrid, the Sorceress I might add, then decapitated by Ogre Mage. Oh, and King Frederick lost a hand, his sword hand I believe. And then you and the priest reattached it.”

  “You forgot the part where Queen Astrid gave birth to a beautiful baby girl,” said Margret pointedly.

  “Ah yes,” said Einar. “And do you know the princess’s name?”

  “No, but you obviously do,” she said.

  “Sifhilda,” said Einar.

  Margret thought for a moment then nodded. “A strong name, a good name,” she said. “Even if she is not the prophesized Sorceress, the stars and realms align with her name.”

  Farling interjected. “We have not discussed it yet,” he started, “but the child Sifhilda is not the Sorceress, Queen Astrid is. Where do we go from here?”

  Pressan began cleaning his glasses. “How do you mean?” he said.

  “Well,” Farling began, “we expected the Sorceress to reach full magical potential when she was a teenager or young woman, so years away. But instead the Sorceress is alive and not a child.”

  “Old,” said Grum, “why do you not just say old. Did I say that out loud? Well, this is embarrassing.”

  “Grum has a point,” said Farling. “Queen Astrid is—ahem—mature; however, her magical abilities are not.”

  Arastead nodded. “She is powerful, yet she does not control her magic well enough,” he said. “It is a strange feeling drawing magic from Yggdrasil and the Midgard Serpent. Even though Queen Astrid is not a child, it as if she is still learning as a child. It may take years of training and lessons from Mage for her to reach her potential.”

  “And the elf king is dead,” said Einar. “Should we fear the elves and their revenge?”

  Pressan put his now clean glasses back on. Said: “The elves hated our realm for centuries. They have many things in place ready to destroy our realm. I do not believe the loss of their king halts their ambitions.”

  Margret grunted. “I would not doubt it if his queen assumes authority in Alfheim,” she said. “There was an aura about her, one of power. I see her leading the realm and leading her elves into battle.”

  Stepon entered the room and shook hands with everyone he knew and was introduced to those he did not.

  “Interesting times,” said Stepon after shaking hands wit
h the were-beasts.

  “Too interesting,” agreed Grum.

  Stepon said: “I am supposed to tell you that a meal has been prepared and awaits everyone in the great hall.”

  “Good,” said Einar, “let us continue our conversations and eat at the same time.”

  The table was laden with foods and desserts of all kind. Everyone filled their plates and sat, eating and talking. Once the plates were cleared, the table cleaned, coffee was served.

  Einar leaned over to speak to the princess. “What next, then?” he asked.

  As Margret spoke, all other conversations went silent. “I believe the Norns have grown too powerful,” she said. “They fear the Sorceress and the assassins guild here in Midgard answered to the Norns.”

  Pressan took off his glasses and began to clean them. “Strange, that the Norns would interfere. They are supposed to be above it all, only recording events and weaving the Tapestry.”

  Margret replied: “Did not Odin, years ago, give up one of his eyes for a drink from the water that feeds Yggdrasil? It was the Norns that allowed him that drink that gave him wisdom, the wisdom to see what he should do to prepare for future events, for Ragnarok. I believe it was because of that drink that he knew Asgard was to fall, that he should place curses on a few of his children—Freya, Loki, Galdr—so that they could be revived when the moment was right, when they were most needed. The Norns interfered then. They also interfered when they warned us of the elves and transferred the magic of Flamebringer to Farling’s father’s sword.”

  Pressan put his clean glasses back on. Said: “But did that Norn you once met represent just herself or her and all her sisters?”

  “That I cannot tell you,” said Margret shaking her head. “But I believe the Norns need to be taught a lesson.”

  “A lesson I do not know they will learn,” said Einar. “They are simply too powerful.”

  “They may be separate from us, but they still draw on the magic from Yggdrasil and the Midgard Serpent,” said Margret. “That is their strength and that is their weakness.”

  “What do you plan on doing?” asked Einar.

  “First, we amass our strength,” said Margret. “And then to Asgard we travel as soon as possible.”

  “A dead realm I heard,” said Einar.

  “But one that still has power and still hides Odin’s spear, Gunghir,” said Margret. “There are many who still follow he or she who carries the spear. And will follow.”

  Pressan said: “You speak of the Valkyries?”

  “I do,” said Margret.

  “You believe they live?” Pressan said.

  “I believe they still live, but sleep,” said Margret. “I will wake the Valkyries.”

  Einar said: “A formidable army, no doubt.”

  Beornheard interjected in his usual rumble of a voice. “Do the Norns listen to whoever wields Gunghir?” he said.

  Grum guffawed. “Excellent question from the were-bear,” he said.

  Margret nodded. “Whoever wields Gunghir receives an audience with the Norns,” she said. “It is a first step.”

  Pressan added: “And whoever wields Gunghir rules Asgard. The Norns gave Asgard to Odin and his children as that realm was seen as the most powerful of all realms.”

  Farling asked: “Wait, you tell us then that if Margret finds and wields Gunghir, she rules Asgard?”

  “It is a remote possibility,” said Pressan with a shrug. “But we will have to wait and see.”

  “Oh, and by the way,” said Einar, “the Graydon Armor is safe once again. I am merely holding it for safe keeping, considering it was practically begging someone to steal it as it was just left lying on the ground in your forge.”

  “My thanks, Einar,” said Farling as he wondered how indebted he and his friends now were to the thieves guild master. “Just remember, we may need it, and we may need it now in Asgard.”

  CHAPTER 56

  A Visit to Asgard

  Once his eyes focused, Farling looked around at the realm of Asgard. Arastead had cast a portal rune inside the courtyard of the thieves guild a few hours after the huge meal. It had been Farling who had requested that they wait a few hours before travelling to Asgard as he wanted to make sure his meal had settled. And now that he was here, he noticed a change since his last visit.

  “Asgard appears to be greener,” he remarked.

  “And cold,” said Grum as he shivered and brought his cloak tighter against him.

  Arastead said: “Odin sustained this realm and with him gone, this realm had nothing to nurture it. Which is why when we first visited, this realm was especially desolate. Now that a few Norse gods have returned, it appears this realm has started to revitalize itself.”

  Kees, his nose twitching, said: “Do you smell that? I smell sweat.”

  Asbjorn, his ears swiveling, said: “Do you hear that? A great army marches.” He turned his head, determining the direction of the sound.

  “What?” cried Grum. “What smells like sweat and marches?”

  “The frost giants are here,” grumbled Margret, the pearl in her circlet glowing ominously. “We must hurry if we are to make a difference. Asbjorn, which way?”

  Asbjorn pointed.

  Liulfr grinned and said: “Tighten your belts as the were-beasts will set the pace.”

  And true to his word, the were-beasts set off at a terrific speed.

  After an hour of running at a pace that left Grum wheezing for breath, the walls of Vanaheim appeared in the distance. They stopped at the top of a high hill to survey the lay of the land.

  Grum wheezed: “Sihr, if you could, I would appreciate some healing. I have quite the stitch in my side.”

  Sihr tutted. “You will be fine,” he said. “Much like a hangover, I do not cure people of being out of shape.”

  “If he’s not going to heal us, why did we bring him along?” mumbled Grum, his breathing still labored. “And Arastead, my friend, why was the portal so far away from the action.”

  “It was as close as I could make it,” said Arastead. “Odin still has many magical protections in place, and one is that you cannot create a portal rune too close to his city of Vanaheim.”

  Grum sat down. “What a pace,” he said. “I have not run like that since I was a youth.”

  “You lie,” teased Arastead. “You may have run to the kitchen, but that’s as far as you would run.”

  “It was interval training, sprinting to the kitchen, it was,” said Grum as he lay back on the ground.

  “Hush, you two,” said Margret. “Grum, stand up. You have good eyes. What do you see?”

  With exaggerated effort, Grum got to his feet. He sheltered his eyes from the sun with one hand.

  “The walls of the city of Vanaheim hold,” he said. “The smoke I see is not from battle but from forges the frost giants have set up for weapons, and campfires for food. They appear to expect a long siege.”

  “Ah, wait,” said Margret. She lowered her chin, closed her eyes, deep in thought. She tapped her circlet as if trying to listen better. She stopped and stood up straight.

  “What news?” asked Farling.

  “Freya noticed my and Sihr’s presence,” said Margret. “As I wear her circlet and he carries her staff, those are both very powerful items of magic attuned to her.”

  Arastead said: “Does she want us to do anything?”

  Margret nodded. “It appears the frost giants have called for a meeting with the Norse gods under a peace banner,” she said. “The city of Vanaheim has many gates. There is one closest to us, but the frost giants have scouts around the city, and so for us to reach the closest gate, we may have to fight a frost giant or two.”

  “A fight,” said Grum. “My kind of plan.”

  Sihr grunted. “Before we charge the gate, I had best make sure everyone is in fighting shape,” he said. “Grum, I will provide you with some healing if you still require.”

  “Perhaps just a little,” said Grum with a wink to Farling.
Sihr placed one hand on Grum’s back. Sihr closed his eyes, breathed deeply several times, then opened his eyes.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Grum inhaled deeply, moved his shoulders and lifted his legs. “Like a new man. Many thanks, Sihr.” He pulled on his Gloves and Belt of Strength and lifted his war hammer.

  “Does anyone else require some healing?” asked Sihr. “No,” he said seeing everyone shake their heads.

  “Just you,” whispered Farling to Grum.

  “Just as well,” said Grum, “because I really am out of shape.”

  Margret cleared her throat. “Does anyone see a frost giant?” she said.

  A horn sounded loudly.

  Farling grunted, then said: “I think we have been seen, instead.”

  “Then time is of the essence,” said Margret. “Liulfr, take the lead. Asbjorn, Kees, Beornheard, you follow behind. Sihr, you are in the middle. Farling, Grum, Arastead, stay close to Sihr. I will take the rearguard and defend our back against any frost giants.”

  A second horn sounded.

  “There,” said Grum pointing at a frost giant lumbering towards them on their left.

  “And there,” said Asbjorn, pointing at the frost giant who had sounded the second horn on their right.

  Margret barked: “There is space between them. We split them down the middle. Avoid fighting but fight if we must. Now move!”

  The group swept down the hill like an avalanche.

  And if Farling thought that the were-beasts had been fast when they had run to the hill, the pace they now set gave him stitches in his side almost immediately. Grum was breathing exceptionally hard and loud.

  The frost giants, not expecting the group to run towards Vanaheim, adjusted quickly, planning to reach the gate first to defend it.

  At the back of the group Margret realized the frost giants plan. “No fools these,” she muttered between breaths.

  The frost giants with their long legs covered great distances with each stride. And while the frost giants do not so much run, their lumbering strides was more than fast enough.

  As they ran towards the gate, Margret realized the futility of the situation.

  “Hold,” she shouted from the back of the group.