Luck favoured Halfdan. Sneaking through the city, he had spied Sif in the distance, sitting outside on the street. He could deduce that the large rock formation next to her was a troll, her captor, but it relieved him beyond measure to see her unharmed and in good spirits, even. He considered whether to strike; while attacking on an open street would be noticeable, the city seemed otherwise abandoned, so he might get away with it.

  However, before he could decide, Sif and the troll left, and so he followed them. They went to fields of mushrooms, where the girl began eating. This seemed a more remote location than before and better suited for a quick fight that would not draw attention, but once again, Halfdan was pre-empted as he noticed Freydis appear. Knowing that he would have to kill the priestess along with the troll – and while he was prepared to do that, Sif might object to this consequence of her rescue – he postponed his attack, overhearing their conversation instead.

  Realising that Sif and her captor had been summoned, Halfdan smiled, knowing that fate in turn smiled at him. The fortress with its empty corridors would be the best location for an ambush to go undetected, and since he knew their route, he could go ahead. And so the berserker hurried as fast as he dared to move to lay in wait. Standing entirely still, he breathed slowly, in and out, until [Keen of Sense] told him of footsteps. And as the troll and the girl walked past the room where he hid, he reached out and yanked Sif to safety, a grim smile on his lips.

  “Halfdan!” she exclaimed, and the girl threw her arms around him.

  “Aye, child, I’ve come. Now step behind me. I need to deal with this.” Thankfully, the troll had not fled or raised the alarm, at least not in any manner Halfdan could see. A few quick blows, and it would be dead. After that, he would go deal with Loki, and the ordeal would be at an end.

  “Wait, you can’t hurt Rumble!” Pulling back, Sif positioned herself in the doorway between berserker and troll.

  “Hum, fleshling child, he is right. Stand aside or you will get hurt.” Taking up most of the space in the corridor, the troll could barely fit in the doorway, especially not as its shape changed to add several stone limbs raised menacingly in the air.

  “Hel, you can talk?” Halfdan exclaimed. He could hardly see anything in the darkness, but he felt deeply unnerved by the sentience shown by this pile of rocks. “Sif, get back!” He reached out to grab her by the shoulder, but she pulled away, pressing herself against the creature. “Sif!”

  “She’s not dangerous! Halfdan, you can’t kill her!”

  “How in Hel’s name can you tell that’s even a she?”

  “I don’t know, but she’s my friend, and I trust her.”

  “I don’t.” Halfdan raised the hammer in his hands, and the runes upon its stone head began to glow with power. “Stand aside!”

  “Hum, hum, hum. Do as he says, child. He is a friend of the little fleshlings, hum, our enemies.”

  “No he’s not!” Sif looked up at the troll before turning her eyes on Halfdan. “Are you?”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘friend’,” the berserker mumbled. “They gave me aid, but it was hard won.”

  “You wield their creation, hum, created by suffering. Even now I feel it, hum, hum.”

  “So you lot can feel pain?” Halfdan smiled, clenching his hands around the haft. “Good.”

  “Not as fleshlings do, hum, no. Not a wound that bleeds, hum, hum, but a wound in the spirit. Even now, the stone cry out to me in agony, hum, hum.”

  “Halfdan, don’t you see? The trolls aren’t bad. They just want to be treated with decency.” Sif stared at him with pleading eyes. “The Dwarves took their home, driving them to extinction. They’re not your enemy.”

  “They obey Loki, which makes them enemies of us all. Sif, get over here and away from that creature!”

  “That’s why you can’t kill Rumble. I have to go with her to see what Loki wants.” The skáld’s voice grew stronger. “We need to know what his plan is. What he wants.”

  “It doesn’t matter if I kill him.”

  “And if he escapes? He’s pretty good at vanishing into thin air. What then? I have to go to him, with Rumble, and find out what he wants. So we can be sure to stop him,” Sif argued.

  The tension building inside of him demanded release in battle, and it clouded Halfdan’s thoughts. It took him a moment to realise that rationally, she was right. Loki was extremely slippery, and any knowledge of his plans might determine success or failure in stopping him. All the same, he could not accept this. “I can’t let you enter the snake pit. What if he means to hurt you?”

  “Then Rumble will take me away before that happens.”

  “Are we really putting our faith, your life, in this moss-grown rock? The trolls serve Loki!” Halfdan almost shouted the words, though he was able to quiet his voice. “The moment you go to that bastard, this oversized pebble will reveal everything to him!”

  “No, she won’t!” Sif looked up at the troll. “You wouldn’t betray me, would you?”

  “Hum, hum. This fleshling wields the weapon of our foes to kill our people, hum. Why would I help him, hum?”

  “Good point,” Halfdan conceded with satisfaction. “So I say we decide this the old-fashioned way.”

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  “Wait, wait!” Now it was Sif’s turn to raise her voice before lowering it again. “Rumble, please, you know I’m not your enemy, right? Surely you can believe the same of Halfdan, right?”

  “Hum…” The longest, slowest rumbling sound issued before the troll finally spoke again. “If the fleshling returns the living rock to us, hum, gives up his weapon, I will believe he is no foe.”

  “Hah!” Halfdan’s laughter became a sneer. “You think I’m that foolish? You want my weapon, you better take it from my hands!”

  “Halfdan.” Sif stepped forward, approaching him. “Rumble’s not trying to fool you.”

  “Hum, the earth holds danger, but no deceit, hum.”

  “I trust her,” the girl continued. “She’ll look out for me, same as you do. And with her help, we’ll stop Loki. Together.”

  Halfdan slowly lowered the weapon in his hands, dumbfounded. Everything told him to fight, yet the skáld’s words disarmed him. “I’m a berserker,” he whispered. “What am I without a weapon?”

  “You’re Halfdan,” Sif said with a faint smile. She began to unclasp his fingers clenched around the haft. “You’re the hero who protects us all. But that doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.” Finally, she pried the hammer from his grasp; immediately, it felt to the ground, too heavy for her. With difficulty, she pulled on the haft to bring to the troll, causing a grinding sound from the hammer being dragged along the floor. Halfdan watched it as if in a dream.

  The troll reached out and grabbed the hammer, pulling head from haft. The latter, made from metal, it threw back on the ground, keeping only the stone. “Very well, hum. You are not our foe, hum, hum. I shall help you.”

  Sif gave a radiant smile as she looked from one to the other. “See? We help each other. Come along, Rumble. We shouldn’t keep that mean, old Loki waiting any longer. We’ll be back,” she said, the final words aimed at Halfdan. “Trust me.”

  “Don’t get hurt,” was all he knew to say with a half-choked voice. The child smiled at him again and disappeared out of the room, followed by a troll.

  *

  The skáld and her earth-born companion ventured as deep into the complex as possible, descending stairs that led far underground. Strangely, the farther they went, the warmer it became.

  Suddenly, in an eerie mimicry of how it felt to see Myrkheim for the first time, a vast cave opened up at the end of the corridor. The heat was like a hot summer’s day, and illumination was provided, not by moss or rune, but the river of lava that flowed around a rocky platform. A half-broken furnace stood on the precipice, once powered by the molten rock to melt any metal; what looked to be a furious blow from a giant had smashed the device, allowing the lava to flow freely rather than be trapped.

  Other furnishings of a forge could be seen. An anvil, primarily, workbenches, and a handful of tools scattered on the ground. Stepping into the wall of heat, Sif stood, mouth agape.

  “Welcome to the living forge,” Loki spoke with a smirk, gesturing towards the place as if his personal residence. “Here, Sindri laboured to create wonders. I should know – I was present.”

  Sif knew the stories, of course. Thor’s hammer that flew like lightning and returned to the wielder, Odin’s golden ring that dripped eight copies of itself every ninth night, and the gold-bristled boar that served Freyr as a steed. No doubt, the master smith had crafted many other wonders lost even to tales.

  “Must be quite something for a skáld to witness.” Loki’s smirk grew. “Should strengthen your gift.” Looking uncomfortable, Freydis stood to the side, silent.

  Sif felt no reservations, in comparison. She looked up at the immortal. “What’s it to you?”

  “Wait, what’s it doing?” Freydis asked, pointing at Rumble. The troll had left Sif’s side, walking towards the edge of the platform. “Is that – a hammer head in its hand?”

  Loki’s head whipped around but relaxed. “It’s not the one we seek. It’s not made of metal. That’s just some rock it found. Old Dwarven weapon, I’m guessing.”

  Sif kept her expression blank as she stored the conversation in her mind. Like the others, she watched as the troll reached the edge and reached out its hand into the lava, holding the rune-engraved hammer head. “Careful, Rumble!” she could not help but exclaim.

  Loki shot her a glance with a sliver of disgust. “You named it?”

  The warning was unnecessary. The troll retracted its arm, unhurt by the molten rock. As for the hammer head in its grasp, it was transformed. The perfectly hewn form had degraded, returned to a more natural look for a stone. Likewise, all the carved runes were gone. Carefully, Rumble placed the rock against itself until its own form absorbed the stone.

  “Congratulations on motherhood,” Loki snorted. “Well, young skáld, another incredible thing to witness. Your gift must be impressive by now.”

  Sif did not bother responding again. She had walked along the edge of the cave wall to an alcove that had probably served as a bed for the craftsman. It lay so low, even a Dwarf would have to bend their neck to enter. Likewise short, Sif did just that, sitting down inside the alcove while watching Rumble.

  “You, troll. I need a piece of you. You have enough to spare, I notice.” Loki held out a hand expectantly in Rumble’s direction, not bothering to look at the creature.

  “Hum. I don’t serve you.”

  With an incredulous expression, Loki turned his head. “Your elders said to do my bidding. Do as I command!”

  A drawn-out rumbling sound followed, and Sif noticed with hidden satisfaction that Loki seemed taken aback as the troll stepped towards him, towering over him. But he did not flinch or flee, and Rumble raised one limb to allow a smooth, round pebble to fall into his grasp.

  “Like pulling teeth from a rock,” he mumbled. From the floor, he picked up a chisel and swiftly walked over to Sif sitting in the alcove to crouch before her. “Remember that gate I showed you? I want you to carve a rune token that’ll open it.”

  “I told you, I don’t know those symbols.”

  “You told me then,” Loki corrected her. “And I bet if you show a mystery like that to a skáld, their mind will be working without pause to solve it. You have such wonderful memories, it’s not a problem for you to remember the details.” He smiled.

  “Well, you’re wrong!” Sif lied, her mind having done exactly what he described.

  He raised the chisel to her throat. “Am I?” Behind him, both Freydis and Rumble stepped closer, which he ignored or did not notice. “You are alive solely because I deem you useful. Now do as I want, or you’ll find out how painful it is to burn alive in molten stone.”

  With an angry look, Sif grabbed the pebble and the chisel, and she began carving. She had seen enough of the Dwarven runes to guess the meaning of those in the gate, and by comparing with the symbols she knew as a skáld, she could figure out the rest, such as their names.

  Standing up with a smile, Loki watched as her hand scratched crude markings into the stone. Finally, she whispered a word, and it glowed with power. Immediately, the immortal snatched it from her hands. “At last! Come, Freydis. Our destination awaits!” He interrupted his own hasty gait to look back at Sif and the troll. “Take her away from here.” With this final command, he hastened away from the living forge, followed by his priestess.