Watching Halfdan disappear inside the alcove, Sif bit her lip and looked around. Being left behind, unable to do anything, was a horrible feeling. But Halfdan had done it before, waiting while Sif went to discern Loki’s plans, and now it was Sif’s turn. They each had their strengths and abilities, complementing each other. But it also meant sometimes, there was nothing she could do.

  “Is this where your people are born?” she asked Rumble, mostly as a distraction from the waiting.

  “Hum, yes. We arise from the river of rock, hum. Without it, our people die.”

  “It was awful of the Dwarves to take it from you.”

  “Hum, yes. The fleshlings were cruel, hum. We do not understand this, hum, hum. The ways of fleshlings are strange to us.”

  “Sometimes to us as well,” Sif sighed. She moved to sit down in the alcove before realising that was a bad idea; there would not be room for Halfdan to appear once he came back. “We should think about getting out. Once Halfdan returns. Can you get us out?”

  “Hum, hum. The way out is guarded, but I can climb down the walls with you on my back, hum. That should not be noticed, hum, hum.”

  “Alright, that’s a good idea.”

  “Hum, perhaps you should hide. You are not meant to be here, hum.”

  “Halfdan will be back any moment, I’m sure.” As she said the words, Sif realised she could not be certain of that. She did not fear for him; whatever he faced on the other side of that gate, he would prove stronger. But it might lead to an entirely different complex, as big and vast as this one that would take him hours to search through. Or if he got hurt, it would take time before he had healed up and could continue.

  But if they left, Halfdan would have to find them when he returned, which also carried a risk. It would if nothing else delay their escape, and the sooner they could flee the city, the better.

  It was not an easy decision for the young skáld, determining what was the wiser course, and she wished that Halfdan had told her what to do beforehand. She even missed, briefly, having Freydis around.

  Wavering back and forth, feeling more and more nervous as time passed, Sif finally lost her nerve. “Alright, let’s leave. We’ll wait back where we first met Halfdan. When he doesn’t see us here, I’m sure he’ll know to look there first.”

  “Hum.”

  The decision had only been made when another voice joined them, haughty and dismissive. “Why are you still here?” Loki cast them a quick look, striding across the platform before he came to a sudden halt, Freydis in tow.

  “We’re leaving now,” Sif simply said and made to move.

  “Stop.” Loki took in the sight of the troll and the girl, standing in front of the alcove. “That’s where I left you. What’s so interesting about that place?”

  Sif shrugged. “I’m just bored.”

  He stepped closer and pushed her aside. Bending down, he looked inside the alcove before straightening up with a smile. “Finally. Sindri, you clever little scoundrel. I still hate you, you scheming bastard, but this goes a long way towards earning my forgiveness.” The immortal deceiver turned around to stare down at Sif. “And I’ll forgive your silence, keeping this from me, when you carve me a stone that’ll let me travel hence.”

  Sif took a step backwards, trying to keep everyone’s attention on her and away from the alcove, considering who might appear inside the hollow at any moment. Her mind was churning thoughts as swiftly as possible. Should she do it? It would lead Loki straight to Halfdan, whom she trusted to win any fight. But if he lay wounded or was distracted – he was not expecting company, least of all from Loki. But if she refused, what would he do to her?

  “You, troll. Another stone.” Still looking at Sif, Loki held out a hand.

  “No.”

  With an incredulous expression, the immortal finally raised his eyes to Rumble. “You defy me?”

  “Hum, yes.”

  A drawn-out sigh. “Freydis, fetch the other trolls. The old one too, with the moss beard.” The priestess bowed her head and swiftly disappeared. “I grow tired of this obstinance.” He began to pace back and forward. “A thousand years, I’ve waited, making plans. Considering every option, every need. Trying at least a hundred times before I finally found that one.” He gestured with his head in the direction where Freydis had run off. “Even she’s questioning me, doubting me. And now, a barely sentient rock and a Hel-spawned child would stand in my way!” The last sentence was shouted through the cave.

  Rumble had no face, no eyes, only an outcropping that looked like a head. Still, the troll bent what would be a neck to, sightless, stare down at Loki. “Yes.”

  The immortal laughed. “Priceless! A shame that one-eyed prick isn’t here, he’d have a right laugh at this. Maybe I’ll get the chance to tell him before my son eats him whole. Ymir’s corpse, I hope so.”

  Other trolls arrived. They could be deceptively fast, it appeared. Sif continued to back further away from the entrance and the wall with the alcove, approaching the broken furnace and the lava. There was very little she could accomplish at this point, she realised, but it included giving Halfdan a chance to get out of the alcove before he got crushed by a score of trolls.

  An odd, gravelling sound erupted. It sounded like the ‘hum’ included when the trolls spoke, but it consisted of nothing else. No human noises or anything discernible as language. Rumble stood, facing down a bunch of its brethren, though nobody else could understand the argument.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Alright, sort it out,” Loki demanded. “And you, get over here. Pick up that chisel,” he commanded Sif, stepping towards her.

  Rumble moved in front of him. “Hum. No.”

  “What is this? Mutiny?” With a look of sheer disbelief, Loki glanced around. “Am I the only one wondering what in Hel’s high horse is going on? A troll with opinions? Individual behaviour? I feel like I’m losing my mind!”

  “Hum, calm yourself, guest,” spoke the troll with the long, mossy beard. “Hum, hum, you will get what you need.”

  “No.” Now Rumble moved backwards as well to stand between not only Loki and Sif, but the girl and all of its brethren. “She is a child, hum, and a friend to the living rock, hum, hum.”

  The trolls seemed bewildered by one of their own numbers defying them. Loki stood in the middle, surrounded by them while staring at the wilful troll and child, but even he seemed at his wits’ end.

  The stalemate was disrupted as all the trolls jerked around, causing those of flesh to follow and look in the same direction. From the alcove, a warrior rose, his arrival noticed by the sentient rock creatures. Discarding any hope for stealth, he hefted a fearsome-looking hammer in his hands, eyeing the twenty or so adversaries.

  *

  An eerie silence fell upon the cave. “Hum, hum, hum,” spoke the moss beard, breaking the tense quietude. “Who are you, hum, and why are you in our sacred chamber?”

  Halfdan clenched his weapon tightly. “I am Halfdan of Midgard, and I have come for my child that he stole from me.” With intense anger, threatening to spill into open wrath, he stared at Loki.

  The immortal sighed. “So much trouble. At least you’ve delivered yourself to us. Kill him.”

  Nobody reacted. “Hum, that child is yours?”

  “It’s a lie!” Loki exclaimed. “He’s not her father, master, or anything like that. They’re just temporary companions, no different than two fish swimming in the same direction downstream.”

  “She’s mine,” Halfdan countered, “not by blood or oath, but by bonds deeper than that. Daughter by deed if nothing else, and I will not be denied my right to protect her.” Across the platform, Sif smiled with pride.

  “Hum, he is also friend to the living rock,” Rumble interjected, as swiftly as someone could while talking slowly.

  “Hum, hum, how so?” asked the moss beard.

  “Hum, he freed a child of the living rock from the fleshling prison. Surrendered it to me, hum, freely he did so, hum, hum.”

  “And I’ve brought more.” Halfdan took out the two stones he still possessed, Sif’s rune token and the rock that had been the heart of the guardian. “My gift to you, given freely. I ask only that you let my child and me leave without harm.”

  “Enough!” Loki exclaimed. His eyes had been locked on the hammer. “She’s mine by as much right as anyone else, and as your guest, you are obligated to defend me and what’s mine!” he declared to the trolls. “But I’ll make you a deal.” He turned towards the berserker. “Give me that hammer you’re holding, and I won’t object to you leaving with the girl.”

  Halfdan’s mouth curled into a half-smile, staring at the scrawny immortal. “The only way you’ll ever touch it is when I smash it through your skull.”

  Responding with a sinister expression, Loki said, “I accept your challenge of holmganga.”

  The berserker frowned for a moment until he understood. This time, a full smile filled his face, and he hefted the weapon his hands once again. No matter what powers the deceiver might have, Halfdan would crush him, especially with his new hammer. Or he might just tear him to pieces with his bare hands. “Holmganga it is.”

  “To the death,” Loki specified. “Winner takes all.”

  The berserker grinned. “Winner takes all.”

  “Good. I name Freydis as my champion.”

  Halfdan’s eyes flickered from Loki to his priestess. “You coward! The duel is between me and you!”

  “I am a god,” sneered the immortal, “and she’s my servant, recipient of my gift. She represents me when and if I so choose, including in this matter.”

  “No, it’s you and me, skr?ling!” Halfdan pointed a finger at Loki and spat on the ground. “No excuses, no tricks. You step forward and face me!”

  “Kings don’t face pawns,” Loki retorted. “You have the terms. Freydis, you will fight him on my behalf.” His smirk revealed that he understood exactly the position he was placing Halfdan in.

  “Yes, master.” An inscrutable expression crossed her face, lost as she bowed her head before stepping forward. The trolls already formed a ring, standing along the edge of the platform and cave, with Sif behind Rumble in the far end. Freydis entered the circle, spear in hand.

  “Hum, the challenge has been made,” spoke the moss beard. “Face it or abandon your claim on the child, hum.”

  Halfdan looked at Freydis, directly, staring into her eyes. Had the moment come to kill her? Could he? There did not seem to be an alternative. Even with his magnificent weapon, fighting all the trolls at once… more would come, undoubtedly, the entirety of their people if needed. And for all his strength, all his power, his ability to ignore wounds, a dagger slipped into his neck from a hand hidden in shadows would still be a deathblow.

  The berserker could try to fight everyone… or he could fight Freydis. Victory seemed assured. He had already defeated her once. But she had been far from her master and had practically surrendered to Halfdan’s blows, unwilling to defend herself in earnest. Here, in his presence, Loki’s hold over her had to be irresistible. A servant of guile and shadows, could Freydis wield some hitherto unseen ability and defeat him? Did she require any weapon other than her green eyes that had beguiled him from the first – all it took was that he hesitated in the moment, and it would provide the opening.

  He tried to harden his heart and recall her treachery, the knife she had held against Sif’s throat. But the truth was, after a lifetime of loneliness, he had willingly allowed himself to be ensnared by her. And now it might cost him his life if he could not dispel the enchantment she had placed on his heart.

  Countless times, Halfdan had recalled the rune-stave in the norn’s hand, marking Sindri’s forge as the last place on his journey before Hel’s hall. Standing on this ground, it would be a worthy place to die. The thought of artefacts forged on this place, the river of molten stone surrounding it, with a ring of ancient creatures to witness his moments. If only his own life had been at stake, the berserker could find peace with such an end.

  Halfdan stepped forward and locked eyes again with Freydis. The priestess lowered her spear to aim it at him. “Forgive me,” she mouthed.

  “I release you from your oath,” he told her, dissolving the burden that had hung over her since Loki’s cave when she swore not to harm him. “Do your worst. If you can. And I’ll do mine.” If I can.

  He looked above her at the troll that had made itself Sif’s protector. Halfdan bowed his head to the creature, and in a motion eerily human, it returned the gesture, an implicit promise. He took another step forward, fully inside the ring, ready to fight. Ready to die.