Halfdan walked for hours. He felt weariness building up, but his will drove him on. Once out of the forest, he could see the rising peaks on the horizon, setting his course, and he continued through grassland that gently sloped upwards from time to time. He only considered rest when he saw a ruined cottage in the distance.

  Once closer, Halfdan could see what had happened. The earth itself had split apart, causing the walls to collapse and the roof to cave in. He saw no signs of habitation, suggesting the hut had been abandoned long ago. A pity, considering that meant no chances of unspoiled food; Halfdan had seen no signs of anything that could be foraged or hunted. The forest might provide both, but returning seemed too risky.

  A problem for later; right now, he needed to rest and recover his strength. [Mend Your Wounds] had healed him up, but it could not dispel weariness; on the contrary, undoing his injuries seemed to hasten on a tired state.

  Grabbing Sif to lower her down, he also gave her a shake until she stirred. “Hmm?”

  “Wake up.”

  “Are we there?”

  “Hardly. But I need to rest, at least for an hour or two. I’ll do so in there, out of sight. But while I do so, I need you to keep watch.” He looked at her yawning face. “Can you do that?”

  “Sure. Easy enough.”

  “Don’t lie down. If you feel sleepy, stand somewhere the wind can reach you. That’ll wake you up.”

  She nodded. “I got it. Go sleep.”

  “Stay by the cottage. You’ll stand out if you walk away from it. Even with the elevation, this land is too flat to provide cover.”

  “I got it! Get your rest,” she impressed on him.

  The allure of sleep too strong to resist, Halfdan stepped past the broken wall, ducked beneath a fallen crossbeam, and sat down with his back against stone, axe across his legs. A moment later, he slept.

  *

  Halfdan stirred. He still felt tired, which was good; it meant he had not slept longer than he intended. Outside the ruined house, he saw sunlight, confirming the time of the day. “Sif?”

  The girl appeared in the breach of the wall. “You’re awake. Sleep well?”

  “Well enough.” Halfdan stretched his neck. His position had not been comfortable, but any ache in his body would pass soon, once they resumed their march.

  “So, I left the cottage for a little while. Not very far!” Sif hastened to add. As Halfdan frowned, she held out her hand, which held a dead hare by its long ears. “I saw this and figured we’d need food. I’m getting really good with the sling!”

  “Not bad.” Halfdan considered the risks. A fire from dry fuel would not cause much smoke, nor would the flames be particularly visible during the day. “Alright, let me have your knife. Its size is better for flaying. You can start pulling straws from the thatching and build a fire.”

  *

  With roasted hare in their bellies, they resumed their march. They moved with less urgency than before; Halfdan figured they had placed sufficient distance between themselves and the forest, and since he did not actually know where to go, there was no reason to hurry.

  “Tell me about Loki,” he requested. Might as well learn about my quarry. “Why was he imprisoned?”

  “So, he killed Baldr. Or got him killed.”

  “That’s another of the gods, right – Odin’s son.”

  “Yes. I don’t recall for sure. Something about Baldr having bad dreams, so his mother tried to protect him, making him invulnerable,” Sif related with a pensive expression. “Loki got jealous and made an arrow that could hurt him, and he died.”

  “I can see why they’d chain him up for that.”

  “Oh, they did much more. This part I remember well because it was so gruesome.” Sif shuddered. “They made one of Loki’s sons into a wolf, so he killed his brother. Then they used the dead boy’s sinews as rope, since Loki wouldn’t be able to break such bindings.”

  “Harsh, punishing the son for the father’s sins.”

  “They also placed a giant snake atop Loki, dripping venom into his face forever.”

  Halfdan fell out of pace for a moment. “Wait, is that thing still there? A giant, venomous snake?”

  “Maybe.” Sif shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Well, I would say it’s your task to warn me of such dangers, skáld.”

  “I just did,” Sif replied placidly. Before Halfdan could think of a retort or chide her further, she abruptly stopped. “I remember something!”

  The berserker looked down at her. “What, more venomous snakes?”

  “No! When I heard about this from the old storyteller, he said that each time the venom fell on Loki, he twisted and turned in pure agony, causing the earth to crack.”

  “So? Wait…” Halfdan frowned. “You think the hut…”

  “You saw how it was broken. The ground itself was torn up.”

  In contrast to the excitement in Sif’s voice, Halfdan felt less convinced. But he had no better reason for setting their course, and it made sense that Loki’s cave would be nearby, considering Urd had sent them here. Looking back at where they came from, Halfdan spent a moment figuring out the directions. They had so far walked eastwards; the crack in the hut had run north-south. Turning to his left, Halfdan stretched his neck. “Alright. Let’s see.”

  *

  After an hour, Halfdan had to abandon his scepticism. The cracks in the ground grew bigger and appeared more frequent. While he felt odd about admitting it, he could see why Urd had sent the girl with him; he would never have stood a chance of finding the cave without her knowledge. Perhaps a skáld made for a decent travelling companion on a quest like this; though the manner of their welcome in J?tunheim along with talks of great serpents made Halfdan apprehensive about her safety. Not to mention, finding the cave was only the first step. He still had no clue how to actually proceed from there.

  Then again, he had been clueless on this entire journey every step of the way, and so far, everything had worked out – with a few broken bones and shapeshifting bears along the way. Perhaps he really was blessed by the gods.

  Another hour following this course saw them standing in front of a narrow entrance to a cave in the cliffs. “I’ll be damned,” Halfdan mumbled. Something in him told him this was the place – perhaps an instinct imparted to him by his patron deity. “I’ll go in alone. You know what to do.”

  Sif nodded. “Stay out of sight.”

  “Good.” Most likely, the cave was empty, but danger was still a possibility. It struck Halfdan that if he died, she would be stranded in a foreign realm. He wanted to give her some advice on what to do in that case, but he could think of nothing. Guess I better not die. Releasing his axe from its strap, Halfdan moved forward. Approaching the cave opening, he muttered quietly, “You better take care of the child if I can’t,” hoping his or any of the gods would listen. His prayer done, he stepped inside.

  *

  Barely any light could enter, and so Halfdan stared into pitch black. He waited a while, letting his eyes adjust, before he walked further in. [Keen of Sense] was working double pace to inform him of anything, but nothing reached his ears. Once he had taken ten steps, the narrow opening expanded into what could be called a room, the cave itself. With difficulty, Halfdan discerned a table in the middle and ropes scattered around it. Nothing else, from what he could tell. No prisoner, no guardian. As feared, also nothing to suggest where his quarry might have gone.

  Halfdan looked around again; it was foolish to be in a hurry and give up immediately. The darkness yielded none of its secrets, though, if it possessed any to begin with. Perhaps he should leave and return with a torch; conduct a thorough investigation. He did not need to clutch his axe with both hands, after all, searching an empty cave. He could also bring Sif. The girl had gotten him this far; she might recognise something he would miss. He turned around.

  Halfdan had only reached the narrow entrance when [Keen of Sense] failed him; he had no warning as the spear point pierced his thigh.

  *

  The berserker yelled in agony and anger, almost losing his step. But with a pain threshold second to none, he remained standing and struck his axe in the direction of the spear haft. Both weapon and its wielder withdrew with greater speed, and Halfdan struck only air.

  Twisting around, he found himself facing a warrior; as best he could see, someone short and slender. Suitable for swift fighting with a spear. They had hid in the dark, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. They had not gone for his back, where he might wear armour, but his leg, hobbling him and further increasing their advantage in speed. The fact that [Keen of Sense] had not discovered them proved their skills in using stealth and underhanded fighting.

  All of these thoughts went through Halfdan’s mind in a flurry, supporting the same conclusion. While he would have liked to take his enemy alive and question them, it was clear that he could not risk it. Already wounded, time was against him, and his enemy seemed faster and better at manoeuvring.

  With a grim smile, Halfdan pressed his hand against his wound, intensifying the pain. [Berserker's Rage] erupted in him, sealing the unknown warrior’s fate. There would be no mercy, no holding back. Fuelled by [Pain to Power], Halfdan leapt forward with no sign of injury and struck a blow that could fell a tree.

  His foe evaded, proving their agility once again, along with another stab of their spear to draw blood from Halfdan. But each swing of Halfdan’s axe drove them back, and the berserker scorned every injury he received. It did not matter the cost; step by step, Halfdan pushed his enemy into a corner. Further retreat, further pursuit.

  Finally, as they moved their spear back for another manoeuvre, it struck the cave wall, disrupting their rhythm and movement. Seizing the opportunity, Halfdan lunged forward to grab the haft of the spear. As he pulled it towards himself, his enemy held on to it rather than letting go. A mistake; the berserker’s one-handed strength proved superior, and Halfdan pulled both weapon and wielder close enough that he could drop his axe and grab his enemy by the throat. With a savage smile, he began to squeeze the slender throat.

  A flash of hurt from his heel; while [Berserker's Rage] was still active, allowing him to ignore all pain, the torturous sensation felt different from the usual wounds, and it cut through the battle haze. Looking down, he saw a gigantic snake with its fangs deeply embedded in his foot. Venom flowed into his bloodstream, disrupting his powers. Acting on instinct, no better than a cornered animal, Halfdan released his first enemy, who fell to the ground. The berserker reached down and grabbed the snake, tearing it away from the wound it had caused. Gritting his teeth, he held it with both hands and tore the head off.

  The other warrior, having regained consciousness, drew a knife and stabbed Halfdan’s calf. His countless wounds, his skills weakened by the serpent’s gift, all of it punched through. Slowly, the berserker sank down. [Berserker's Rage] kept him alive through injuries, but not venom; [Mend Your Wounds] could not heal such damage done to his body, nor dispel the effects of the toxins in his blood. [Pain to Power] still granted him strength, but it did not aid his survival.

  Weakened and wounded, Halfdan found himself on his knees, facing his enemy. With his last ounce of power, he used the snake’s head in his hand as a dagger and drove its fangs into the other warrior’s neck. Together, they collapsed to the ground.