Halfdan felt himself sinking as the firm ground beneath his feet disappeared. He was no longer standing ankle deep in a pond, but treading water. It had worked – he assumed. He reached out a hand to touch a wall, reassured by the sensation.

  “What is this?” exclaimed Freydis, flailing about. Halfdan grabbed hold of her to steady her.

  “It’s the well,” Sif explained. “We are in the right place.”

  “We are in the actual well?” Freydis glanced around, though in the darkness, it availed little. “You could have warned me we’d end up here.”

  “You knew where we were going, same as us,” she pointed out.

  “Enough,” Halfdan muttered. He glanced up words and saw the edge of the well house illuminated by a sliver of moonlight. Getting out would be easier this time than the last. He willed himself to disappear and appear again at the top of the stone wall enclosing the well, though it was too small and narrow to support him, meaning he fell down – on the outward side, thankfully, landing on firm ground. Freydis and Sif followed suit, the latter being held by the former, and they joined Halfdan, lying next to him in the dirt.

  A familiar voice reached them as a tall figure towered over them, blotting out the moon. “I see you don’t need the rope this time.”

  *

  “Urd.” Halfdan glanced at the norn as the three travellers got on their feet. He had forgotten how tall she was. “Well met.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. Rare for me and my sisters to receive the same visitors twice. Though in your particular case, I suppose little of you resemble the man who came here previously.” A sardonic smile graced the immortal teller of fate.

  “You found that amusing, I’m sure. Twisting the truth to make me think I’d die in Hel.”

  “I twisted nothing.” Urd shrugged. “We carved your fate as we saw it, your mortal life ending in the hall of Hel. Nothing suggested to us the manner of the ending, whether death or elevation to a higher state.”

  “Not that you saw fit to even mention the possibility, knowing full well what I would assume.”

  “Why should we care what you assume one way or the other?” Her height allowing her to look down at Halfdan lent extra strength to the haughty expression on her face. “We are not your servants or advisors. You came to us, unbidden, and demanded our help. We gave it, though nothing required us to do so. A poor guest who demands food yet complains about the taste.”

  “Well, that won’t stop me from expecting your help again.”

  Freydis placed her hand on Halfdan’s arm. “To that end, perhaps some courtesy is in order. We flavour cakes with honey rather than horseradish for a reason.”

  “Can we stop mentioning food?” complained Sif. “My stomach is growling.”

  “There is no need to fret,” Halfdan reassured his priestess. “When I was still a lonely mortal, this norn was all too happy to tell me my fate and see me ushered towards it. Now that my destiny is far greater, I can only imagine she is bursting at the seams to tell me what I need to know.”

  “You presume much,” Urd sneered.

  “And yet I am right. Already, the fimbulvetr has begun.”

  “That sorceress should have never looked beyond the veil,” the norn hissed. “To divine the fates of those immortal twists and locks everything. She doomed the worlds, and that fool Odin.”

  “Perhaps, but it cannot be undone. Fate beckons to me, and you have the knowledge I need. You would never stand in fate’s way, or it would make a mockery of all the twigs you and your sisters have carved for an age.” Halfdan sent her a challenging look. “Am I wrong?”

  For a while, the norn stared back at the immortal scoundrel demanding her wisdom. At last, she spoke with a reluctant voice, “What do you need to know?”

  “I have nine runes to write, nine spells to speak, and nine bones to break.”

  “My sisters and I do not meddle in magic. I know nothing of rune lore, spell craft, or dealings with the dead.”

  “But you know where I must go to learn these matters.”

  “We do not carve the fate of those immortal.”

  “But you carve the fate of everyone else. Including those who possess the knowledge I require. Whose lives will be cut short because they stand in my way.” Halfdan continued his glare at her, and despite being shorter than the norn, she seemed to shrink.

  She relented. “You will visit Vanaheim and after that Alfheim. But I do not know the tasks ahead or the challenges you face.”

  Halfdan smiled. “That’ll be my problem. I need one more thing from you.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “What?” The question was spoken as sharply as possible.

  “You must open a path for us to Myrkheim.”

  Both his companions looked at him, mouthing the name of the realm with confused expressions. As for Urd, she did not seem to care. “As you wish. The well is open to you. Go now, as you have exhausted my patience and your welcome.”

  Halfdan inclined his head, hiding his self-satisfied smile. “Very well.” As swiftly as they had entered, the travellers left Urd’s Well behind.

  *

  They appeared in a pond similar to the one that had taken them from Midgard, as always, in darkness. But they were not in a forest, a ruined building, a small cave, or the like. Though the lack of light concealed it from his eyes, Halfdan knew they stood in a great cavern that stretched in every direction, large enough to be the home of Dwarves and trolls alike.

  “Well, we’re here. But why did you say this place?” asked Freydis, looking at Halfdan. “The norn did not mention this realm.”

  “If we are to succeed, we can’t depend on the Dwarven gates,” he explained. “Our enemy has too many spies, too many servants. If we are to travel to multiple worlds, we can’t keep using paths that they may watch, guard, and control.”

  “I don’t think he actually has that many,” Sif interjected, and the others looked at her questioningly. “Servants, I mean. Think about it. Both when we fled Asgard and J?tunheim, we only faced one god. Where is Thor or Freyr? If Odin could send the strongest of the gods against us, wouldn’t he have done it?”

  “They might have been occupied elsewhere,” Freydis speculated. “With all the enemies that Odin has acquired over the centuries, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has many other fires that must be extinguished.”

  “Either way, I don’t think he’s as strong as he probably wants us to believe. I think he has vulnerabilities,” the skáld considered.

  “Be that as it may, my point stands. Using the gates is too dangerous. We need our own path,” Halfdan declared.

  “What makes you think will find them in Myrkheim?” his priestess asked. “If such roads between the worlds existed, the old Loki would have used them rather than depend on the gates.”

  “He lacked imagination.” Halfdan smiled. “True, those paths do not exist. Not yet. Thankfully, we have friends.”

  Sif slapped her hands against her face. “We are going to see Rumble!” Her exuberance was immediately replaced by disappointment. “Oh no! I’m starving, and all there is to eat here are mushrooms!”

  *

  As the skáld had deduced, Halfdan planned to enlist the trolls. He could not say exactly how he knew this was possible; in his mortal life, he had never given any thought to the realms beyond Midgard, and certainly not how one might travel between them. But every now and then, knowledge came to mind that he could not recall ever learning, yet he felt certain about. Such as how the realms were not separate entirely, but all existed on Yggdrasil. Myrkheim lay among the roots, in the dark, with Hel further down, and the sunlit realms above. Underground rock, mountains, or walls might prevent easy travel from one world to the other, but the Dwarven gates were not the only way to make the journey.

  “Very well then. We can certainly use all the help available to us, and our list of allies is short. Which direction?” asked Freydis.

  “Don’t look at me. I haven’t been here before, so my memory is of no use,” Sif declared.

  Halfdan glanced around. “I’m not sure what is even outwards or inwards,” he admitted, using the peculiar terms for direction in a realm that had neither north nor south, east nor west. “But I suspect if we begin walking, the issue will solve itself.”

  “Of course. They will find us,” Freydis realised.

  Halfdan nodded with satisfaction on his face. He had spent quite some effort dealing with the trolls and their ability to sense movement; first being ambushed because of it and later choosing his path carefully to avoid further detection. “Let’s get going. Take heavy steps – the more noise we make, the sooner they’ll find us.”

  “Pretty sure your footfall alone should do it,” Sif teased, though she nonetheless made a jump forward to make a heavy landing with both feet. Freydis rolled her eyes and followed, albeit with her normal gait.

  *

  They marched through the eerie landscape of Myrkheim. At first, Halfdan kept looking over his shoulder or into the air until his instincts finally caught up to what his mind knew; they were not being pursued, no enemies lay in wait to ambush them, and no spies flew above them to watch their progress. For the first time since his escape, Halfdan could relax entirely.

  It allowed him to take in their surroundings. He had been in Myrkheim before, but under similar circumstances to those he had just fled, fearful of spies and enemies, not to mention dread, due to Sif being Loki’s prisoner, and heartbreak, due to Freydis’ betrayal.

  Now, none of that applied. Both of them walked leisurely at his side, all threats banished for now and all rifts healed. With this modicum of peace of mind, Halfdan let his gaze wander at the twisted cliffs and rocks stretching as far as his eyes could reach. With the glow from the moss casting soft illumination and long shadows, Halfdan could appreciate the rugged and alien beauty of the landscape, especially since he did not have to fear what those shadows hid.

  The sound of rocks moving told them they had found their goal. Before their eyes, stone rose up from the ground until a shape towered several feet above them. It took the form of a boulder with no discernible limbs or head; when it spoke, Halfdan could not tell from where the sound issued. “Hum. Who are you, hum, to travel in our lands?”

  “I am Halfdan, and my companions, Freydis and Sif. We are friends of your people, as declared by your elders.”

  Sif dug out one of the pebbles she had been given on their last sojourn into this realm. “Look! I got this as a gift.”

  “Hum. Or you stole it. Those of the flesh lie, hum, hum.” The troll’s voice was monotonous, though it felt as if an implied threat lay in its words.

  Not that Halfdan was worried; both because he could beat any troll in a fight, but also because they did not seem the hasty sort who attacked without strong reason. “Easy to determine,” he argued. “Simply take us to your elders.”

  “Hum. Yes, they will know.”

  Sif stepped forward and bent her neck to look up at somewhere that might be considered the troll’s headless torso, beaming a smile. “I am a child with short legs. Can I ride on your shoulder?”

  “Hum. You are a child?”

  The girl nodded eagerly, and some of the rock separated from the main body to reach out, grab hold of her, and placed her on what would be its shoulder. In this manner, they set out.