Outside the cave, Sif waited. As the sounds of fighting died, she crept forward. Peering into the dark, it took her a moment to notice the fallen shapes. “Halfdan!” she shouted, running forward. He lay slumped over his enemy; with difficulty, Sif grabbed hold of his shoulder and pulled him to lie on his back. “Halfdan!”
“He’s gone, child,” spoke the other warrior with a light voice, and Sif leapt back in fright. “But you can save me.” One hand awkwardly moved up to pull the snake’s fangs out, releasing streaks of blood down the throat. “My bag, in that crevice. You’ll find three flacons. They’re antidotes,” the fighter breathed, pushing up to lean against the cave wall. “Get me one, and I’ll owe you my life.”
Recovered from her scare, Sif had watched the warrior with suspicious eyes before her gaze flickered over the dead serpent’s head. But she did as suggested, running over to find the bag and rummage through it until she pulled out a small vial. “This?”
“Yes! Let me have it, child, and I’ll give you anything you want!”
Resolutely, Sif stepped closer and immediately poured the liquid down Halfdan’s throat.
“No! Foolish child, he’s dead! You’re wasting it! Hurry, let me have one!”
A cough erupted from Halfdan to make his body shake before he sat upright with an incomprehensible yell. “Gods,” he added, “I was one step into Hel’s hall.” He could feel himself still bleeding in various places, but with the antidote cursing through his veins, purging the toxins, [Mend Your Wounds] could begin clotting his blood and closing his injuries.
“Halfdan!” Sif dropped the bag to sling her arms around the berserker’s neck in a tight hug.
“Careful!” shrieked the poisoned warrior, eyeing the bag. Meanwhile, one hand fumbled in the dark for a weapon.
Recovered, Halfdan reached out and grabbed the offending wrist. “Not so quick.” He looked at the bag and empty vial on the ground. “A cure for the serpent’s venom? You came better prepared than me.”
“Yes, now let me have one of the others!”
“Certainly. Once you answer a few questions. Who are you?”
With troubled movement, the warrior raised their free hand to remove their helmet, releasing long hair. “I’m Freydis. Like you, I surmise, I’m from Midgard.”
“That may be, but you ambushed me with intent to kill. Why?”
“Halfdan,” Sif whispered into his ear, “her gift… she has Freya’s blessing.”
“Please, the antidote. I’m fading,” she mumbled. “I’ll answer everything, just let me have it.”
Halfdan reached out a hand towards Sif, who picked up the bag to fetch a flacon and place it in his palm. “Swear that you’ll do no harm to me or mine,” the berserker demanded. “Swear by the gods and the one you serve.”
An inscrutable expression ran across Freydis’ face, her eyes locked on the vial. “I swear to do no harm to you and yours, by the gods and the one I serve,” she spoke with ragged breath.
Halfdan let her have it, releasing her wrist as well. With shaking hands, she uncorked the flacon and emptied it, emitting a deep sigh once it had gone down her throat.
*
The berserker had gotten on his feet meanwhile, and he stared down at his defeated foe. Once she seemed composed, he spoke. “Start talking. And it better be good. There’s no cure for my axe cutting your head off.” As if given a signal, Sif ran around the table to retrieve Halfdan’s weapon, dragging it by the end of the haft to him.
“As said, I’m Freydis. As your companion surmised – a skáld, are you?” she asked, glancing at Sif. “I’m a servant of Freya. Sent for the same purpose as you, I take it. To find Loki.”
“Odd method for interrogating, stabbing me in the back.”
“I thought you were a J?tun, or one of Loki’s henchmen. Neither are friendly to a servant of the Aesir, and the deceiver could not escape on his own. When I saw you approach, I hid and prepared my ambush,” Freydis explained. “I did attack to wound, not kill, hoping to question you. Regardless, I ask your forgiveness.”
“You can have all the forgiveness you want. It’s my trust that’ll determine if you leave this cave alive,” Halfdan told her with a grim voice.
“Again, I regret the manner of our meeting. But the child sees true. My gift is Freya’s blessing, and I expect we have the same purpose. A warrior of your power is surely blessed by one of the gods?”
Sif crossed her arms with a haughty look. “He is blessed by Odin, king of the gods.”
“Not that I need him to win my battles,” Halfdan muttered. He looked down at the woman; the dark made it hard to distinguish her features or read her face for signs of deception. While he trusted Sif’s skill, and even if everything spoken by Freydis was true, he was loath to turn his back to someone who had already stabbed it once. After handing his axe to Sif, Halfdan drew his dagger and knelt in front of the woman.
“What – wait, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice spiking with fear as he reached out with his free hand to grab her wrist again. Quickly, he pricked her palm with his blade, drawing blood. She tore at his grip until he released her; her eyes full of confusion and dread, she watched Halfdan place the tip of his dagger against his tongue.
[Servant of Freya]
Halfdan should probably put more Seeds into [Taste Your Foe], but he rarely had need of it; this might be the first time he had ever used it on someone still alive. Still, it told him the most important thing. Added to that, an oath sworn to the gods and her mistress, the very one she received her gift from, carried weight. Halfdan had heard endless stories of the curse that befell those who broke such vows. A fate worse than death.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The priestess continued to stare at Halfdan, her expression hard to read, and not only due to darkness. Her life was in his hands, after all; at least she was not begging for mercy or whining.
The berserker in Halfdan told him she was an enemy, and he could never trust her no matter what. But killing a servant of the gods in cold blood – who knew what punishment that would incur, not to mention the enmity and wrath of a deity. And if Freydis had been sent for the same purpose, Halfdan could use her help, considering he had no idea what to do next. Furthermore, she was a skilled fighter, if not as strong as a berserker; given his own welcome to J?tunheim, he could use an ally in battle. And should the worst happen… someone needed to get Sif home. The berserker in Halfdan would never trust her, but looking into the green eyes belonging to a servant of Freya, the man in him found it difficult to condemn her to death.
“Why you?” he asked, still crouched in front of her.
“I’m not like others who serve my mistress. My skills are in stealth, making me suitable for a task deep in enemy lands.”
“No, why a servant of Freya? Why is this a problem for your goddess to solve?”
“Odin rules the Aesir, but my lady is of the Vanir, and they keep their own counsel. They don’t trust your master.” Freydis gave a knowing smile.
It was lost on Halfdan, who had no idea what distinguished Aesir from Vanir, or why that mattered here. But he saw no reason to admit that; he could ask Sif later.
Standing up, Halfdan had three options. Kill her, send her away, or take her along. He already knew he would not do the first, for one reason or another. The second might seem prudent, but given her skill in stealth exceeded his [Keen of Sense], she could simply follow unseen. The last choice seemed the riskiest, but sometimes, keeping people close was the wiser course. Besides, Halfdan was a berserker, and he scorned danger.
“It seems we have a common goal, then,” he acknowledged. “We can pursue it together, on one condition.”
She gave him a weary look. “I already swore a binding oath that I’d cause no harm to either of you. What more could you want?”
“Swear to me, if I’m unable to do it, that you’ll take the girly home.”
Sif’s mouth opened, but she did not speak. Freydis looked from one captor to another, and her expression softened. “By all that is holy and dear to me, I swear it.”
Satisfied, for now, Halfdan reached out a hand; as Freydis took it, he pulled her up to stand. “So be it.”
“Let’s leave.” The priestess glanced down at the severed serpent’s head and its fangs that had nearly claimed two victims. “I’ve no desire to see caves or snakes again ever in my life.”
“What about the rope?” Sif asked, pointing towards the table. “It was made specially to bind Loki. If we find him, we’ll need for him.”
Freydis gave the girl a discerning look. “She’s a clever little one, isn’t she? Here, we can use my bag.” She picked it up and placed it on the table while Halfdan began to gather up the rope. “Do you have supplies? You seem empty-handed.”
“No,” Halfdan replied. He ignored the offered bag and instead tied the rope around his waist. “That Loki better be close by.”
“One can pray,” the priestess responded, though she did not sound like she believed such a prayer to be answered. “I crossed a stream east of here. That’ll provide water for now, at least.”
“Was that your intended direction?” Halfdan asked, fishing for information; above all, he wanted to know if she had any knowledge of their prey’s whereabouts.
“Not necessarily. I freely admit, I don’t know where to go from here. I hoped to find some clue, but nothing here suggests where to search for the scoundrel.”
The rope and their other belongings gathered, they all turned towards the opening that led out of the cave; Halfdan made sure to walk last.
“What of you?” Freydis asked.
“We haven’t got a clue either,” Sif confessed.
Halfdan shot her a look, but as he walked behind the others, it was wasted. Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, we have paths to explore. Someone must have seen him, a starved prisoner ambling across this open landscape. And no doubt he has sought out allies among the J?tnar whom we can look for.”
They reached the outside, and Freydis closed her eyes, turning her face towards the sun. “Doubtful. None of the J?tnar would aid his escape. That’s why his prison was placed here, to keep his presence from tainting Asgard.”
Halfdan shot her a confused look before turning to Sif. “I don’t remember much from the stories, but I thought Loki was pals with J?tnar.” The girl shrugged, clearly no more informed than him.
Now it was Freydis who gave Halfdan a scrutinising look. “You don’t know why it’s important we find Loki?”
As she asked the question, it certainly seemed an obvious matter to ponder. But given how fast everything had happened at Odinsvi and Urd’s Well, and his own exhaustion marching through J?tunheim, Halfdan had never given it deeper thought. He just assumed Odin was miffed that his son’s killer had escaped imprisonment. “Well, I figured he belongs in chains, so that’s where I got to put him.”
He could tell that Freydis spent a moment to compose herself. “During the final battle, Loki leads an army against Asgard.”
“So?” Halfdan questioned. “We know he’s not a friend to the Aesir, not anymore.”
“To do so, Loki must first be free.” Freydis stared at him, apparently incredulous that she had to elaborate. “The final battle is Ragnar?k. It is heralded by countless omens. Among the first of these is Loki on the loose.”
Halfdan returned her stare. “Are you saying the Alfather has tasked me with preventing Ragnar?k?”
“Look, knowing Odin, I doubt you’re his only plan. You’re probably one in a long line of precautions with more contingencies than there are leaves on Yggdrasil. My point is, the J?tnar have no desire to see Loki escape or help him, especially not their leaders. They are busy enjoying life – Ragnar?k would spoil the mood.” She glanced at Halfdan. “Did your benefactor not explain this to you? My mistress was most forthcoming with information.”
“Must be nice,” he muttered to himself.
“Does that mean we can ask them for help?” As the two adults looked at the girl in their midst, Sif continued, “If the J?tnar don’t want Loki free, it’s in their interest to help us find him, right?”
Freydis licked her lips. “You are just full of good ideas.”
“It’s our only idea,” Halfdan admitted.
“True,” the priestess conceded. “But I serve one deity, and you are blessed by another. The J?tnar are no friends to Aesir or Vanir, not even if our interests align. We must tread with utmost caution if we are to approach them.”
“If they’ll feed us, it’s worth the try,” Halfdan muttered, his stomach growling.
“Very well.” Freydis looked at the berserker. “But which direction? I’ve not seen signs of habitation for many miles.”
The croaking of a bird reached them, flying above their heads. Sif’s eyes followed its flight east. “That way!”
“Oh?” Freydis gave her an overbearing look. “Are you a priestess, taking auguries from the birds of the sky?”
“No, but that’s a raven,” the girl replied smugly. “If we need a sign, what better guidance?”
Halfdan shrugged. “Best idea so far.” Keeping his axe over his shoulder rather than strapped to his back, he gestured for his companions to begin walking. After a moment’s hesitation, they did so.
