The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  “I see,” said Alchemist as he took a step back. “Is it the Trickster, Loki, you now follow? Beware, he speaks only in lies.”

  As Loki’s name was mentioned, Thrymr stirred and frowned, while Loki only scoffed. “Your children are all grown up,” Loki said. “They are boys no longer. They are now men and are free to make their own decisions. And no, they do not follow me. They are too smart for that. They follow someone much more admirable than I. They follow Princess Margret.”

  Now it was Old Monk’s turn to scoff. “A woman,” he sneered.

  A knife appeared at Old Monk’s throat so fast he gasped when he felt the cold metal press against his skin.

  “She is our liege,” said Asbjorn with a rat-like hiss. “I do not care much for your tone when you speak of her.”

  Asbjorn sheathed his dagger. Old Monk rubbed his throat still feeling the cold metal.

  Alchemist’s voice was full of scorn as he cried: “This is your last chance! The frost giants will lay waste to Vanaheim. In its place will rise a city more splendid and more spectacular. If you side with the frost giants, you will see wealth and greatness beyond your wildest dreams. If you side with the old Norse gods, you meet your doom. And there will be nothing I can do to stop it.”

  Liulfr nodded. “Then so be it, father,” he said. “We believe the Norns favor the old Norse gods. And now that Princess Margret wields Gunghir Sister-Spear, we believe we will win any fight against the frost giants.”

  Alchemist spat on the ground. “Then so be it,” he said. “You four are dead to me. I renounce you as my children. If we meet on the field of battle, it will be your end.”

  Yorli shook her head in disappointment. “I think those two have outlived their usefulness,” she said.

  One of her brothers struck Old Monk a great blow while simultaneously, the other brother struck Alchemist. Both Old Monk and Alchemist fell to the ground, dead.

  The were-beasts stiffened in anger but did not budge.

  “Impressive,” said Yorli as if nothing much had happened, “and here I thought the were-beasts would rush and avenge their father’s death. I see they are well-trained dogs. Now, we will discuss the terms of your surrender.”

  Freya said in a calm voice: “But we do not surrender. In fact, we ask for your surrender.”

  “If you surrender,” continued Yorli ignoring Freya’s words, “we will let you live in some far-flung realm, far from here.”

  “You know that is a death sentence,” replied Freya. “Without our realm, we wither like fruit on a vine.”

  “Yours is a lost cause,” said Yorli. “You are hopelessly outmatched. You have seen the strength of our frost giant army, but you have not yet seen our real weapons.”

  Yorli clapped her hands.

  A hooded figure appeared from behind one of the large stones. When it stood in front of Yorli, it stopped, facing Freya.

  The figure’s shoulders were wide, and its deep chest could easily be noticed signifying great strength. But when Yorli commanded it to reveal itself, Farling noticed its hands as it lifted them up to pull back its hood.

  “Trouble,” he whispered to his friends.

  “Why? Oh,” said Grum. “Is that a golem? The same as King Cormac described?”

  “It is,” was Arastead’s terse reply.

  Made of iron, the golem stood like an unmovable guardian. Its cloak fell to the ground. All it wore was a loincloth. Covered in patterns of tattoo like runes, Farling knew these were the reasons for its demonic-like existence. And while its appearance was impressive, it was its cold black eyes that gave everyone pause.

  Yorli said to the golem: “Let us show the old tired Norse gods and their children what you can do. Demonstrate to them your awesome strength.”

  Without a nod of acknowledgement, the golem walked over to one of the great boulders surrounding the circle, bent down, reached his fingers and hands underneath it and lifted. With no visible exertion, the golem lifted the boulder a few inches off the ground. And then the golem shifted his hands and arms to get a better grip and then he easily lifted the boulder over his head as if lifting a pebble.

  Thrymr allowed himself a rare smile and it was horrific to see. “Now do you surrender?” he cackled unable to stifle a laugh at the situation.

  As a reply, Freya merely crossed her arms across her chest and allowed herself the slightest of grins. “Grum, if you will,” was all she said.

  Grum nodded, dropped his war hammer on the ground, tightened his Belt of Strength and made sure his Gloves of Strength were on snugly.

  “Hey,” said Grum to no one in particular. “I thought my magical gloves and belt only worked in conjunction with the war hammer?”

  Galdr nodded and said, “What you say is true blacksmith. But you are now in the realm of Asgard. Here, as with the gloves and belt’s former owner, they give you great strength even without your war hammer.”

  Grum grunted. “I will have to remember that,” he mumbled as he walked over to the golem, who still held the boulder above his head. Grum then squeezed his gloved fingers underneath the golem’s feet, bent his knees, and lifted.

  And with little huffing and puffing, Grum lifted the golem and the boulder clean over his head. Grum walked in a slow tight circle to show everyone his accomplishment.

  All—except for the frost giants—hooted with laughter at Grum’s feat of strength. Grum smiled widely.

  Amidst the laughter, Freya said: “Now do you surrender?”

  Thrymr’s smile had faded long ago.

  Yorli spat: “We will not be humiliated in such a manner.”

  Freya shook her head. “Yet it was you who wished to humiliate us, with your freakish golem,” she said. “As you can see, it is not as impressive as you had hoped. Grum, you may put him down.”

  “Easier said than done,” said Grum as he pushed the golem and boulder up into the air a few inches and leapt back several paces.

  The golem, his expression unchanged, landed on the ground where the impact and weight of the boulder drove him into the ground up to his knees.

  Grum walked back to his group, picked up his war hammer while his friends and were-beasts clapped him soundly on the back.

  “It’s all in the wrist,” said Grum by way of explanation.

  Freya now called to Thrymr. Said: “You have not given us an answer. Do you surrender?”

  Instead of answering, Thrymr stood and stormed away.

  Calmly, Yorli watched her father leave, knowing he was furious. “I believe that is your answer. Return to your city of Vanaheim. Once you lock the front gates, we attack.”

  “So be it,” said Freya.

  CHAPTER 58

  The Golems Attack

  True to her word, once the main gates of Vanaheim locked, the golems advanced.

  “Grum, how many do you count?” asked Margret.

  “At least 20,” he answered.

  Margret nodded. “We have some time left before they reach the walls,” she said.

  Farling said: “Freya, what is your plan?”

  Freya shook her head and said with a smile: “You are our champions. You have been chosen to defend Vanaheim, defend the realm of Asgard. Even the were-beasts are now our champions.” The were-beasts stood a little taller hearing the news. “Now, I put to you—what is your plan?”

  Margret assumed the leadership role as she said: “We are useless here on the walls. The golems must be met on the ground. Freya, what weapons and armor do you have?”

  “Some made it through the fall of Asgard,” she answered. “Galdr, if you could be so kind, could you please bring forth armor and shields that fit everyone here that have need?”

  Galdr chuckled. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. Galdr closed his blind eyes and as the two ravens cawed loudly, armor of the finest materials appeared, along with shields, swords, spears, and axes.

  Freya chuckled. “I thought I just asked for armor,” she said.

  Galdr merely shrugged and smiled s
hyly. “I thought some weapons might help,” he said.

  Liulfr asked excitedly: “Are any enchanted?”

  “Sadly, no,” said Galdr. “However, they are well made, and will provide much protection. All the swords, axes, spears are as sharp as the day they were made.”

  The were-beasts, Farling, and Grum found armor that fit and put it on. Magnus, an expert in armor and weapons, inspected everyone and grunted in approval.

  Grum said: “Margret, nothing for you?”

  “I prefer mobility,” was her curt reply.

  “Besides,” said Arastead who had also refused armor, “her circlet provides more than enough protection.”

  Margret surveyed her warriors. She sighed proudly and said: “These golems may be demons of magic, but their skin still bleeds and their iron bones still break. It will not be any easy victory but it will be our victory just the same.”

  Everyone cheered.

  Then she cried: “Now, let us make haste to the gates as the golems are almost upon us!”

  ***

  “We hold the gates!” cried Margret once they were in front of the walls of Vanaheim. “Shield wall! Farling, you in the middle at the point with your shield. Beornheard and Liulfr, on either side, Kees and Asbjorn, on the ends. Those demons will part like water on rocks when they meet you. Grum, you and I attack over the shield wall. Arastead, Sihr, behind us. Arastead, wield your magic as you see fit. Sihr, attend to our wounds and keep us strong.”

  Grum said: “Just give me room to swing my war hammer, and I will splatter Asgard with the blood of these demons.”

  Farling jammed his shield into the ground, Beornheard to one side, Liulfr the other.

  Liulfr looked to Farling and said through a gritted smile: “I must admit, that I would never have thought to be fighting alongside you, the person that beat me so badly when I was young in Jordheim.”

  Farling grinned. Said: “The Norns weave the Tapestry and our threads weave together in such a way as to create an image and moment in time. Yes, who would have thought it would be a bunch of kids from Jordheim defending the city of Vanaheim in Asgard.”

  “Yes,” said Liulfr as his gaze took on a faraway look, “who would have thought.”

  Farling looked over the edge of his shield at the approaching golems and found himself catching his breath. The golems were now a few hundred paces away and having noticed the shield wall in front of the open gates, had quickened their stride. They were now at a run and Farling could feel the ground beneath him rumble with the pounding of their feet.

  “Hold!” bellowed Farling.

  And when the golems struck the shield wall, the sound was as a thunder clap, the reverberations causing Farling’s teeth to rattle in his skull.

  But the shield wall held.

  With a roar, Grum rose and swung his war hammer. When the war hammer struck flesh made of iron, the struck golems burst as the magic of the war hammer severed the runes that kept the golems whole.

  And Margret, with Gunghir Sister-Spear, was just as deadly.

  While Grum struck down the golems like so much ripe wheat from above the shield wall, Margret’s spear darted through openings in the shield wall, cutting the golems, their strange black blood gushing on the ground.

  The golems slipped and scrambled in the muck before the shield wall but the thought of stopping never entered their minds.

  Farling yelled: “Arastead, a little help!”

  “I am just waiting for the right opportunity!” shouted Arastead.

  Grum roared: “The opportunity is now!” as he burst another golem with his war hammer.

  Arastead mumbled under his breath while at the same time Peg’s eyes glowed eldritch green.

  Farling felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end with static electricity. He had been close to Arastead before when he wielded magic, but this was like no other time. The air itself crackled and hissed with magic and for a moment Farling feared Arastead would burn himself and all the others to a cinder.

  And just before Farling thought Arastead could bear it no longer, Arastead threw back his head. From seemingly nowhere, fingers of lightening burst forward from an empty sky and streaked towards the ground striking each golem.

  In amazement, Farling watched as the remaining golems first stood still, then jerked about like puppets on string.

  Farling stood, knowing the fight was now over.

  All the mouths of golems opened and a weird moan issued forth.

  Arastead, with a bit of flourish, looked across the fields towards Thrymr, and snapped his fingers.

  And with that, the golems melted into puddles of black molten metal.

  CHAPTER 59

  Loki Reveals a Secret

  Galdr said: “Sister, I am impressed with your choice of heroes.” He had watched the battle through the eyes of the ravens.

  “I was never worried,” said Freya, “as Loki could have stopped those golems at any moment, could you not have, brother?”

  Loki chuckled. “You know me too well, sister,” he said. “Yes, those golems were animated with my blood, which meant I could have stopped their attack at any moment. But I was too curious to see how the battle went, before stopping them. Who knows, I may never have stopped them.”

  “A curious threat, brother,” said Freya, “and yet I am glad you did not interfere. I wanted to see the full power of our heroes and it is impressive.”

  Galdr said: “Now, what of the frost giants?”

  “Their much-vaunted heroes are now puddles on the ground,” said Freya. “Let us see if they wish to negotiate again. This time, I hope, their arrogance is somewhat tempered.”

  Loki snorted. “You would have thought that Grum’s display of strength would have given the frost giants pause,” he said, “but they remain as foolish as ever.”

  “They never do learn,” said Galdr, “yet they can still create a great deal of destruction.”

  “Such is the way of chaos,” said Freya.

  CHAPTER 60

  The Elf Queen Plans for War

  In the great hall in Alfheim, Queen Amalaja sat upon her dead husband’s throne. It felt like it had been days since the necromancer had told her of her husband’s death, but it had only been hours. She had shivered when told, but that had been due to being in the presence of the necromancer as well. Her husband, dead, she could not quite believe it. But she had thought it a fool’s errand his effort at trying to kidnap the Sorceress all on his own. He had whispered that the Norns favored him, but she knew the Norns did no such thing. The brief thought that her husband had begun to lose his grip on reality flirted across her mind, but she cast it aside. She knew he had been under a great deal of stress, but she believed him when he had spoken of his clandestine meeting with a Norn. So, the Norns were not above meddling. She wondered why but then knew: They feared the return of the Sorceress as much as the elves welcomed her.

  The next moments would be crucial to the solidity of her realm. Scheming princes and generals would try and tear Alfheim—her realm—asunder. Her husband had been able to hold the realm together by any and all means possible: bribes, threats, cajoling, promotions, and lastly, the promise of the Sorceress. Many an elf had questioned his belief, but when the Midgardians had appeared in Alfheim and the necromancers had proclaimed the return of the Sorceress, all doubters became believers.

  It had been ages that the elves had waited, waited for their vengeance to be unleashed on the old Norse gods and the people of Midgard. When the Midgardians had appeared, even she had seen it as a sign of the elves’ good luck, that even when trained to fight monsters with magical weapons, the Midgardians had failed. It had been an admirable fight, but she knew deep in her heart that if the army of elves were ever set free in Midgard, all would be destroyed in their path, as it should be.

  The elves were the Chosen, the ones selected by Odin to do his bidding, to fight Odin’s battles and keep the realms secure. And all the while the Norse gods, especially the duplic
itous Odin, had lied to the elves. The elves were to be raised up, to enjoy life as Norse gods, but it was not meant to be. Odin had lied, had sacrificed the elves on his many whimsical ideas of adventure. Only when the elves had become too powerful, did Odin fear them. And his fear had turned to hatred, and when the elves had vented their hatred on the people of Midgard, Odin had made it plain that that realm was to be protected, at all costs, even at the cost of casting aside the elves, his tip of the spear, his Chosen.

  Even the elves present at that time, their words captured in books, had been shocked at Odin’s behavior. Had they not subdued many a realm for Odin? Had they not brought back treasures immeasurable to the vaults of Vanaheim? Had they not kept Yggdrasil and the Midgard Serpent safe, ensuring the safety of the realms? What was Midgard, but another realm to subdue?

  But Odin had seen it differently and had used his fear of the growing power of the elves to subdue them, to banish them, to humiliate them. For in the elves quest for greatness, they had unwittingly overreached, had begun to overshadow the Norse gods in their stories of adventure and conquest. The elves had thought that the more realms that they had subdued, the greater Odin’s pleasure. But it had been false, as Odin had begun to fear the elves more with each passing day.

  But why Midgard? Why was Midgard the turning point? Was it because the Midgardians resembled the Norse gods in so many ways? Did the Norse gods see the Midgardians as reflections of themselves? Was it because the elves were so different looking in appearance that Odin had feared them?

  She cast aside her thoughts as the great hall filled with her husband’s generals and necromancers. She knew many a general sought to sit where she now did, and she knew if she were to retain the throne, she would need to act decisively.

  She stood, and the room went silent. Out of respect for her husband, everyone in that room deferred to her, but that fealty would be short lived if she did not give them purpose. And she believed she knew what that purpose should be.