The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  Yorli shook her head. “We were to rule together, rule Asgard.”

  “I do not recall saying those exact words. I seem to remember saying something along the lines of us ruling together, most likely in Jotunheim, where you will be crowned queen, and I will be your hapless love-besotted king, doing all your bidding.”

  Abruptly, Yorli stood causing Loki to take a step back. “Then the Norse gods would rule two realms.”

  “Sweetheart—”

  “Do not ‘sweetheart’ me!” she said, her voice rising in anger.

  Loki shushed her. “We really should not draw attention to my being here.”

  “Then why are you here? Loki, Prince of Lies.”

  Now it was Loki’s turn to sigh. “Because I miss you and you are so close to me, yet so far away.”

  “My father thought the frost giants were to fight the Norse gods.”

  “And they still might. The battle this morning was a battle of our proxies. The golems were merely the shock troop, meant to intimidate my brother and sister. But those heroes appeared, and Freya is so fond of them, having given one her staff, another her circlet. You know it was they who woke her from her slumber.”

  “I thought as much.”

  “And it was they who fought off your brothers.”

  “They and the Master of the Hunt.”

  “They have fought you before and they have only become more powerful. Convince your father to leave while he still has a shred of dignity.”

  “You do not understand my father. His is the legacy of time immemorial. He still recalls as if it happened yesterday the snub by the Norns, giving Asgard to your father, Odin. He bided his time, for a while, frozen in the north of Midgard, then lately, returned to his great hall in Jotunheim. He feels it is his destiny as he has outlived Odin that it is he that will rule Asgard, and from his seat there, all realms.”

  Loki chuckled causing Yorli to glare angrily at him.

  He shrugged. “Ruling Asgard is not just about your father plopping his oversize bottom in some fancy chair in the city of Vanaheim. There is more to it than that. I would have thought you frost giants would have known that by now.”

  “You speak of Gunghir spear.”

  “The same. The wood used in that spear is the same wood as from Yggdrasil. It connects whoever holds it to Yggdrasil, the same tree that binds all the realms together. Without it, your father wins a hollow victory as he would merely rule an empty realm. And this realm, without my sister and brother, without me, returns to dust and ash.”

  “You stole for my father before, you will steal for him again.”

  Loki laughed aloud. “Even if I could steal Gunghir, I may not.”

  “And why not?”

  “Because even I do not know where it is. You see, my father, difficult as he was, was a pretty sharp tool in the toolbox. He and I disagreed about practically everything, mostly the way I dressed, but I cannot find much fault with how he foresaw this playing out after his destruction. He had a fondness for the people of Midgard, a fondness I always thought similar to how one is fond of their cat or dog. I could never figure out why he liked them so much, they are so weak and helpless, often like newborn mewling kittens. Now that I think of it, it is not so much that he loved Midgardians, more that he despised the elves. And so when the elves attacked and killed as many Midgardians as possible, my father stepped in where he could. My brother Galdr was instrumental in the fall and banishment of the elves. It was he that nudged the wizards of Midgard to cast the Final Spell and seal shut the Alfheim Gateway. I think the only mistake my father truly made was that he let the elves live. Still, cursing my sister and I to wait as statues protecting us this whole time, waiting for the elves to return. My father was a proud man and a vengeful god. The elves became too uppity for their own good, and my father felt it was within his right to keep them in their place. Much like he did with the dwarves, disfiguring and stunting the men while keeping the dwarf women tall and beautiful.”

  At the mention of dwarf women, Loki noticed how Yorli glared at him.

  Loki coughed politely. “My father was inflexible in so many ways. Greedy, capricious, ruthless, and yet fiercely devoted to my brothers and sisters, his children. Even towards me, there were moments of affection, but just when he wanted something of me. I would help him, mostly because I was bored at the moment and would have wrestled the great the Midgard Serpent to break that boredom. But his was the rule of fiat, one of absolute authority. For he knew, when he bested your father and gained Asgard, he could never show weakness, for to be weak around his enemies was akin to wearing a fox stole wrap about his shoulders amongst a pack of hounds. He purposely kept his enemies weak and on the back foot. He knew if they ever got strong they would come after Asgard.”

  “And they did.”

  Loki nodded. “They did. Vanaheim fell, and with it, the realm of Asgard. If there were any mistakes made by my father, he should have severed the connections between all the realms, closed somehow all the gateways and portals, so that none, no matter dwarf, giant, ogre, goblin, elf, or even Norse god, could travel from one realm to another. Then the people of Midgard would have been safe.”

  “They would not have been safe from their own battles and wars.”

  “No, but to war amongst themselves was a way to ensure they were strong, strong enough to battle the elves if they were ever to return, even though most forgot about the elves ages ago. The strong rise to the top, the weak fall to the bottom, or simply die. It is the way of life, it is the Tapestry the Norns weave for us.”

  “My father thinks his army of frost giants is strong enough to defeat your heroes and your brother and sister. He has craved Asgard ever since he thought it within his grasp.”

  “And that is the mistake your father continues to make. He should be happy with his realm. It is a vast realm, one filled with many opportunities for adventure and excitement.”

  “You make it sound as if it is a fun place to visit. It is not. It is a harsh environment, one we frost giants were born to, but it is an unforgiving realm. Much like any one, we crave a land less harsh, with fertile fields, one in which our crops and animals would thrive. The frost giants would have a more enjoyable life in Asgard. Our children would grow fat and strong here.”

  Loki shook his head. “You spout the words of your father but I do not think you believe them. You are the people of ice and frost. You thrive on hardship, it is what defines you. If you were to have an easier life, you would become weak and indolent. And then, after the years, probably after many generations, another realm, one that still breeds hard people, would come after the frost giants and would invade. Nay, my love, I do your father, you, the frost giants, a favor when I keep you in Jotunheim. No one thinks to invade that realm and so your people are safe. There, they thrive; here, destroyed.”

  “An over-simplified way to think. My brothers and warriors would stay strong and would force all the other realms to my father’s will.”

  “And that is why your father may never rule Asgard. Because, you see, I am worshipped by a certain guild in Midgard, and I would miss that too much. Well, perhaps worshipped is too strong a word, but they admire me, and that means a great deal to me. Same with my sister and my brother. There are people in Midgard who admire my sister, for her healing arts. And the wizards, druids, illusionists of Midgard admire my blind brother. Nay, if your father rules Asgard, at some point he will turn his gaze on Midgard, and then the people I and my brother and sister are fond of will perish or become slaves. I am too invested in those Midgardians. I cannot allow your father to rule them.”

  Now it was Yorli’s turn to shake her head. “I think it best if you leave. On the morrow, frost giants march on Vanaheim. The ground will tremble under our gait and the walls will tumble.”

  “Probably best then if I do not ask for a good night kiss,” said Loki as he disappeared, melting into the shadows of the night.

  CHAPTER 64

  Strong Tea at the Paup
ers Temple

  A portal rune appeared in the basement of the Paupers Temple and Mage stepped out. No one was around this early in the morning, not even the caretaker, Rickters, although Mage wished the caretaker was up and about as Mage would have liked a bowl of porridge and hot black tea.

  In a few moments, he was rummaging about in his room grabbing supplies of potions and herbs and anything he thought might be useful in battle.

  At the sound of the front doors opening and someone calling aloud, he waited a few moments, curious if the old caretaker would see to the visitors. But when they called aloud again, Mage walked to the front door as he thought he had recognized their voices and accents.

  “Mage!” shouted the red-haired warrior in greeting. The ogre recognized him as Airthear the eldest of the Aarlund brothers. With him was King Cormac, his brothers, and their nephew, Conall.

  By this time, due to all the commotion, Rickters appeared and after a quick consultation as to everyone’s appetites, set himself to task in the kitchen whipping up a huge bowl of porridge and lots of strong black tea.

  And while Rickters busied himself everyone else made themselves comfortable around the long kitchen table.

  “Mage, what news of my daughter?” asked Cormac.

  “Of what news does the king speak?” replied Mage. “Are you curious as to her training? Or are you wondering where she is at?”

  “The latter,” said Cormac, with a small chuckle. “I never realized ogres could be so evasive in their answers.”

  “Not all ogres,” said Mage, “just the magical ones.” He cleared his throat, wondering where to begin, then realized the best course of action.

  “Would you like to see her?” Mage said.

  “My daughter, of course. Mage, you do play an odd game.”

  Mage merely nodded his head. “Then after we break our fast, there are some jobs we must do, then we are off to the realm of Asgard.”

  “Asgard?” exclaimed Cormac. “What does Margret do there?”

  “Why,” began Mage, “she does what she does best, what some say she was born to do: She defends the walls of Vanaheim against the might of the frost giants.”

  Airthear struck the table with his fist. Cried: “A fight, by Odin’s beard, it will be good to go all out in battle. The frost giants will be a mighty foe.”

  “That they will, son of Aarlund,” said Mage. “And a strange battle it will be as it is not only the frost giants who crave Vanaheim.”

  And he told them all he knew, without mentioning it had been the goblin king who had told him of the many armies in Asgard and how the fate of the realms hung in the balance.

  And after Mage finished, he told them what he needed them to do before they joined him in Asgard.

  They nodded, although they were all still confused.

  CHAPTER 65

  Friend or Foe

  Margret woke with a start.

  She gingerly touched her forehead where the pearl of the circlet lay half expecting her skin burnt. She sighed in relief as she realized there was no injury, just that the circlet had woken her from her dreams with scenes of destruction.

  She pulled the circlet off and laid it on the table next to her bed. She breathed deeply, regaining her composure as it was always a difficult transition to go from wearing the circlet, which enhanced all her senses, to not, which, while not dulling her senses, felt like it did as she returned to her usual abilities.

  She chided herself for not taking the circlet off while she slept. Normally she did, but last night she had forgotten, obviously.

  Still, what had she seen? A great battle, a slaughter on all sides where death reaped a grim harvest. And her father, King Cormac, when all else seemed to be failing, had charged into the fight and thrown himself into the heat of battle. But she had awoken before she knew his fate.

  She stared at the circlet and the pearl in it gazed back. Cursed circlet, it gave her great powers but came at a great price. It almost felt as if every time she donned the circlet, she lost just that little bit of herself to it, as if it drained her of her essence to give itself power. And that power was addictive. She knew the moment she donned the circlet, the room would sharpen into focus, food would taste better, she could smell things in the air she had never smelled before, and her fighting abilities enhanced mightily. Because of it, she had been able to fight assassins. She worried for a moment a few may have escaped her vengeance, but she knew once everything was done in Asgard, she would return to Dennland and Aarlund and would ensure any assassins who lived would die on her blades.

  A knock on the door brought her out of her reverie.

  “Princess,” said a voice she recognized as the were-beast Liulfr. “Are you harmed? We heard you cry out.”

  “I am fine,” she said in a loud strong voice. “I will meet you in a bit in the kitchen.”

  The were-beasts she could hear even without the circlet mumbling to themselves as to their next course of action. As always, Liulfr took charge.

  “Of course, Princess Margret,” he yelled unnecessarily loud. “We shall meet in the kitchen.”

  She heard them shuffle off, their hairy were-beast feet making unusual sounds as they wore no shoes most of the time.

  What will come of this day? She calmed herself, breathed deeply, and tried to see through the fog of what was to come. But the fog remained and she saw nothing of the future. Sighing loudly, she reached over, picked up her circlet, and placed it gently on her head, breathing quickly to handle the change in her senses.

  Again, she calmed herself, this time more quickly, able now to block out all her senses, as if the circlet in addition to enhancing her senses, also gave her the ability to focus in order to shut out all noises and sounds.

  Using all the training Nas had given, she cleared her mind, allowing the fog to shift and blend, to move, to assemble itself into shapes, barely recognizable at times, but still portents of what was to come.

  With a cry, she opened her eyes. Quickly she dressed and rushed to the kitchen. Everyone else by this time was awake and dressed and beginning to break their fasts when she rushed in.

  “The elves,” she cried, “they are here. They mean to take Asgard.”

  “And not just them,” said Galdr, as the two great ravens stood on either shoulder and whispered in his ears. “They bring their army of ogres and necromancers.”

  Margret held her head and swayed. All the were-beasts jumped up to steady her, but she waved them off.

  “Asgard is about to get even busier,” she said. “An army of dwarves has arrived.”

  “Friend or foe?” asked Farling.

  Margret grimaced. “To answer that question, we will need to wait and see,” she replied.

  CHAPTER 66

  The Aarlund Brothers

  “Why do I feel as if I am some sort of servant now to an ogre?” asked Cruithni as he, his brothers, their king, and nephew walked through the streets of Trondheim. “Is the pay good? Or is it just food and board?”

  “Hush, younger brother,” said Airthear. “This ogre wizard knows more than we, and Princess Margret trusts him, so I trust the ogre.”

  “But he is an ogre,” said Cruithni, adjusting the bow he held in one hand. “One who enjoys reading books I admit, but still, did you see the size of his hands? Word has it that he fought the elf king to a standstill inside the Hive. The people there refuse to shut up about it and talk incessantly about it. And I swear by Odin’s beard, the story gets crazier and crazier every time I hear it: One version I heard had the elf king riding a polar bear. A polar bear! There are no bears inside the city walls.”

  Conall said: “Almost as crazy as there being an elf king in Trondheim.”

  “Hush, nephew,” chided Cruithni. “My point is, how do we know this ogre wizard can be trusted? The item he has asked us to bring to Asgard is mighty powerful. What if he gives it to the enemy?”

  “His hatred of the elves is vast,” said Tuathail as he tapped his quarterstaff on th
e ground in beat with his stride. “Did you not hear? Elves killed his wife and daughter. He would never side with the elves. He only worked for them when he thought his wife and daughter lived as hostages. Now that he knows they are gone, his anger against the elves has been unleashed.”

  “Well, at least he had the satisfaction of chopping off the elf king’s head,” said Eithlenn. “The Vorpal Blade, what a sword.”

  “Yes, and something the ogre wizard said we must bring to Asgard,” said Cruithni pointedly. “With or without King Frederick, that I do not know.”

  Eithlenn continued as if not hearing his brother’s comments. “I am curious: In battle, which would win? The Almuric Sword or the Vorpal Blade?”

  King Cormac raised an eyebrow at hearing his sword’s name. “Why, the Almuric Sword of course. Its power lies in destroying magic, which is the Vorpal Blade. Once those two swords clashed, the Vorpal Blade shatters.”

  Eithlenn and Cruithni looked at each other and pursed their lips in agreement, as Cruithni said: “And that is why he is king.”

  “I miss Nas,” said Conall of a sudden. At the name of the druid, everyone stopped and bowed their heads in memory.

  “He was a good friend,” said Cormac.

  “He was a grump,” said Cruithni as they started making their way along the streets again. His brothers groaned at the comment. “I mean, let me finish, I mean he was a grump but in a good way. Boy, he was a hard one to get to smile, but I knew he always had Aarlund at heart, and he was a good teacher to the princess.”

  “He was good in battle,” said Airthear. “A wise strategist.”

  “I know,” agreed Cruithni. “A druid! Who would have thought they would have made good fighters? I thought they were always about hugging trees and feeding squirrels, but not our Nas. He was one tough cookie.”