His mind once more awake and his own, Halfdan knew he should appreciate the improvement in his condition. Looking around the glum cave, faintly illuminated by countless runes on the floor and walls, he nonetheless struggled to feel any positive emotions. He could hardly move, and though presumably he no longer needed to eat or drink, he still felt an overwhelming hunger and thirst.

  He needed to be free. Given how much his strength had increased on his journey, Halfdan expected he could tear steel asunder with his bare hands. This was a rope. Surely it could not withstand his full might.

  Halfdan tensed up and tried to move his arms. He strained against his bindings, unable to affect them. I hate magic.

  He needed his full strength that only a berserker could muster. He had never tried to use his rage before outside an actual fight, but there was plenty to make him angry. Chosen against his will by Odin to suffer all kinds of hardships on his behalf, only to be betrayed in this manner most foul? Yes, Halfdan was enraged. He was torn from Sif and Freydis, unable to protect them. Letting this thought repeat, he called upon [Berserker's Rage] to fill him.

  Instinct taking over along with mindless fury, Halfdan struggled with every bit of strength he could possibly possess. The rope cut deep into his skin, bruising it, which only fuelled [Pain to Power]. All in vain.

  Eventually, his anger faded away, flames returned to ember. There was no enemy he could hack to pieces or rip apart with his bare hands. His adversary was an inanimate object; his real enemy in another world entirely, far removed from Halfdan’s reach.

  Abandoning his attempt, Halfdan let his head fall back on the slab that served as his bed. As his thoughts strayed, he tried to remember the sound he had heard earlier. He was certain it was Freydis’ voice, and he believed that she had spoken his name. But clearly he was alone. He did not know how long he had been lost in that otherworldly forest before emerging. Perhaps it had been years, decades, a century or longer.

  *

  It struck Halfdan that Freydis and Sif could be dead. If not, they were prisoners of Hel, which amounted to the same. He almost found this thought comforting. It meant he knew where to find them. Having faced Hel’s ruler as a mortal, he was not afraid to do so as an immortal. He would tear down her hall splinter by splinter if needed to see them again. He just needed to get out of his own predicament first. A feat that had taken Loki a thousand years, give or take.

  And Halfdan lacked much of the knowledge that his predecessor had possessed. But something had clearly happened to him when he killed the trickster; he kept what he killed. The rope that bound him was meant for Loki, but ensnared Halfdan just as efficiently. If he had inherited Loki’s weaknesses, it stood to reason that he had also gained his strengths, if not his knowledge. Closing his eyes, Halfdan summoned the tree of his gift.

  At first glance, it looked the same, and he felt a deep-seated disappointment. He had already tried his berserker strength, and it availed nothing. His old gift and abilities would not see him freed. Except at second glance, he noticed an abundance of Seeds of Power resting by the roots. A dozen or more. He had killed Loki and taken his power; could all this be because of that?

  It took him a few moments to understand the truth. He realised that his blessing from Odin had to be gone. If anything, he was cursed by that deceitful old villain. But the branch that had sprouted from the blessing remained on his tree. Focusing on it, Halfdan realised what had happened; it remained, but in changed form. New impressions, new abilities came to him as he inspected it.

  Where once it had said [Blessing of the One-eyed], he now felt it to say [Breaker of Bonds]. Ominous, but also helpful if it was meant literally, given his current situation. It was dormant, with no power added to it. But Halfdan had increased the abilities granted him by Odin, many times, and he understood where all the Seeds had come from; losing the blessing, the Seeds had returned to him, available to be used elsewhere.

  Quickly, feeling a glimmer of hope that he had options, Halfdan examined the skills that sprouted from his new branch. [Empower the Faithful] seemed self-explanatory; a strange thought for the berserker used to a solitary life, but he could have followers now and grant them power.

  [Friend to Shadow], Halfdan could imagine what it did. Helped him hide or perhaps vanish and appear elsewhere like Loki had done during their fight. Possibly it also hid his gift from those trying to discern his true nature.

  Lastly, [Your Heart’s Desire] seemed an odd one, but he recalled when first meeting Freydis, she had claimed the ability to look into a man’s eyes and know what he longed for. Halfdan had not been sure he had believed her then, and she had been pretending to be a priestess of Freya, but the best lies were mixed with truth, and Halfdan could not imagine what else this skill might do.

  With lots of Seeds available, Halfdan placed one in each ability, awakening them from slumber, leaving him with ten to spare. He did not immediately feel different. Maybe the rope that bound him also suppressed his abilities. That would explain why all his rage and strength could not accomplish anything. He had seen Loki vanish into air, but obviously, that ability had not let him escape from this prison.

  Deciding to experiment, Halfdan bit his own tongue, hard enough to taste blood. Pain filled his mouth, and he turned his head to spit out a mixture of saliva and blood. He did not have to wait long before [Mend Your Wounds] took hold and undid the injury, removing any lingering sting.

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  So, his abilities worked, in some fashion. Halfdan could not claim to understand how the rope held him prisoner, but clearly, it did not suppress everything. Loki had found a way to escape, or rather, he had found Freydis and gotten her help. If it worked once, it might again. Furthermore, any power he could lend her would aid her in protecting herself and Sif.

  With nothing else to do, Halfdan increased [Breaker of Bonds] to the fifth rank, as high as it could currently get, and did the same for its dependent skill, [Empower the Faithful]. He tried to sense if anything seemed different. Nothing. He felt the same. No connection to Freydis or anyone else.

  Trying not to despair, he focused on [Breaker of Bonds]. If true to its name, could it see him freed from his actual, physical bonds? As before, nothing seemed to occur. He was as tightly bound as ever. Whatever his new abilities could accomplish, restoring his liberty was not among the possibilities.

  *

  Frustration boiled inside Halfdan. He felt like a child given a task beyond his understanding, shown a furnace with a forge and told to hammer a nail without any knowledge of smithing. Furthermore, he was a man of action and accustomed to physical activity. His current state, preventing him from doing anything and also keeping him immobilised, it galled him beyond anything. His ire made him think of Odin’s betrayal, how he had ended up here, which only increased his anger further.

  The rune token on his chest, which he was too restricted to shake off, began to glow. It mocked him, Odin’s last gift, a sign of his powerless state that he could not even make it fall down. The more Halfdan thought about it, the stronger it shone. His mind became fogged, and he felt the instinct, the urge to fight and kill.

  He stopped himself as sudden clarity made him realise what was happening. While he did not understand the exact workings of such a rune stone, he could guess that it served to keep his mind captive. And his anger fuelled it. Not his ability, [Berserker's Rage], but the true wrath that seeped through his being. The rune stone sought to use that to trap him inside his own thoughts, locking him in a dreamlike landscape of endless battle, which further enraged him, thereby strengthening his prison.

  Clever, but Halfdan was not the ignorant berserker who had barely left his hometown. He had travelled the worlds. His body might be imprisoned, but his mind was his own, and though he was used to relying on physical strength, he did not let this limit him. He recalled the trickery employed against him on previous occasions. Fighting a spectre in Hel that turned out to be his own companion, or doing battle against a bear in the underground chambers of J?tunheim, only to discover the bear was his mirror.

  Halfdan suspected the rune stone mocking him from its perch had a similar effect. The bear he kept encountering in the dreamlike forest was himself, the berserker spirit within him. As ingenious a trap as it was insidious.

  His deliberations were interrupted as the voice returned, stronger and more insistent than before.

  *

  Sif and Freydis approached the gate in silence. The bleak and eerie ambience cast upon Hel suited their mood; if anything, it felt understated. Freydis knew the task ahead of her and that she approached it with nothing but a spear for a weapon and her wits. She did not know how to reach Halfdan or gain his blessing. As they walked, she prayed in her head, but nothing came of it. Perhaps the situation mattered. Last time, flames licked their way up the pyre to burn her alive; while she did not favour her current chances of survival either, she was not under any threat at the moment. Nor could she claim unjust treatment this time, not towards herself. Towards Halfdan, yes, but unlike when Loki reached out to bless her, she was not a victim. She willingly walked to her doom.

  At least Sif had a gift, an exceedingly useful one at that. Most importantly, the girl could use the gates at will.

  “Sif, I was thinking…”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t hear what I’m thinking.”

  “You want me to open the gate to Asgard, so you can go through it alone, and then I take myself back to Midgard.”

  Freydis gave her a look. “Sounds like you understand it is the most sensible course of action.”

  The skáld stared ahead. “You need me to get out of Asgard again.”

  “You have the stones that the troll… Rumble gave you. Enchant one to act as a key for me.”

  “And what about the wards in Loki’s cave? Don’t you need someone with magic for that?”

  “I figured it out last time,” Freydis pointed out. “I can do so again.”

  Sif stopped abruptly. “Enough. You and Halfdan keep trying this. You really don’t think you’ll need a skáld to pull this off?” She raised her head to look Freydis directly in the eye. “I chose to come here, every step of the way. Enough,” she repeated. “I have proven my worth plenty of times.”

  Freydis exhaled, returning the stare. “Yes, you have.” And unlike me, you have your gift still, she thought. “Let’s go, then. But if something goes wrong in Asgard…”

  “I’ll run to the gate and leave you behind, yeah, I got it.”

  *

  They reached the circle etched into the ground. The empty wasteland of Hel surrounded them, as desolate as Freydis felt, knowing what lay ahead. Sneaking into Asgard to steal an artefact from its ruler, king of the gods. With no abilities other than those given to her by nature. But there was no doubt in her mind that this had to be done. Halfdan had saved her, twice. He had killed Loki, ending the curse on her; before that, he had shown her what companionship was meant to be. Him and Sif. After endless years toiling alone, doing her master’s bidding, Freydis had not imagined forming such a bond with anyone. And now it demanded that she returned the favour.

  “Ready?” Sif asked, stepping onto the gate.

  No. “Yes.” She joined the skáld to stand on the circle. With a quick word and burst of magic, the runes glowed, and they left Hel behind.