Despite Sif’s misgivings, they satiated their hunger with mushrooms from the overgrown fields. Afterwards, under Rumble’s watch, they slept. Freydis and Sif had their backs against each other for some semblance of warmth in this cold realm; Halfdan lay on the ground, which was as good a bed as any to him.

  When he woke, he could not tell how long he had slept, but he felt fully rested. His hammer, the vaunted reason for so much trouble, lay next to him. He looked over to see his companions, one leaned against a half-broken wall and the smaller one rolled up against her. “You’re awake,” he said quietly as he sat up, catching Freydis’ eyes.

  “As are you.” In the faint glow, absent proper sunlight, Freydis looked paler than ever.

  “Are you well?”

  “My injuries are healed if that’s your concern. There’s nothing further for you to do, great master of runes.” Traces of a smile accompanied the gentle mockery.

  Halfdan reciprocated the expression, though he refrained from any verbal riposte; twice now he had seen Freydis dying and had to use his rune craft to save her. The memory, the image in his mind, it was too fresh, too raw. “Alright. Once Sif wakes up, we should get going.”

  “Does that mean you’ve already determined where you should be going?”

  Halfdan noticed her choice of words. “Honestly, no. I wouldn’t mind a discussion on what would be the best course of action for us – all of us.”

  “Sounds wise.” The former priestess did not acknowledge the invitation, nor did she decline it – Halfdan took that as an acceptance.

  “I’m tired of pursuing this immortal bastard across realms. If his plans are foiled, we could simply leave him behind. Throw this hammer in the deepest sea in Midgard.” Halfdan patted the weapon by his side.

  “Your patron will not take it lightly that you abandon your task to capture him,” Freydis warned. “Be careful about making an enemy of the Aesir. The high god is vengeful.”

  “Seems a common trait.” Halfdan looked at Sif, curled up against Freydis. “But I don’t want to put her through more dangers. Or you. Let Odin come for me!” he exclaimed with sudden intensity. “I never asked for his favour or this task. I’ve done more than could be expected of me, and I’ve ended Loki’s hope to unleash Ragnar?k. That’ll have to suffice.” As his temper flared down, Halfdan allowed himself to imagine a return to Midgard. A life by the forest edge, but no longer alone. He found the thought appealing to such a degree, he would gladly defy every god in existence.

  “I suppose Loki is trapped here,” Freydis mused. “He can’t use the gates. Someone of his guile will escape eventually, I imagine, but that could be a century from now.”

  Sif yawned and sat up, stretching her arms. “Are you talking about Loki? Didn’t the trolls say he fled towards the gate? The main one between the realms.”

  “Hum, yes, he did,” Rumble replied, and the sudden voice erupting from the rock made the hairs on Halfdan’s neck stand up. The berserker had to remind himself that the troll was on their side.

  “He’s probably fled Myrkheim,” Sif considered. “Urgh, it’s mushrooms for breakfast, isn’t it…”

  “But how?” Freydis asked. “He has no power over runes.”

  “He found a rune token,” Sif explained, digging through the leftovers from their previous meal. “You were gone when it happened. He didn’t tell you?”

  “He didn’t trust me with that knowledge, no.”

  “That means he’s probably run off,” the skáld continued. “He could be in any of the nine realms, honestly.” She looked at Loki’s former priestess. “Unless you know his intentions?”

  “Nor that. In truth, I don’t think it occurred to him that he could fail to retrieve the hammer or be denied it. I think he has retreated to buy time and consider his next move,” Freydis speculated. She added a cough to her words.

  “How many times could that stone be used, do you think?” Halfdan asked Sif.

  “Just the once, I suspect.” She shrugged. “It didn’t seem to have much power imbued.”

  “If we’re lucky, he fled to Niflheim and he’s currently freezing his fingers off,” Halfdan mumbled.

  “If anywhere, he’d probably hide in Hel.” Seeing the berserker’s questioning gaze, Freydis continued, “Hel is his daughter.”

  The ruler of the dead, for whom the realm of the dead was named after. And a giant wolf for a son. What a family. “Good riddance to him.” Loki could rot in Hel for all that Halfdan cared. Looking at his two companions, he knew what he wanted, and he saw no reason to deviate from that future. Until he noticed Freydis wipe a speck of blood from the corner of your mouth. “What’s wrong?”

  She tried to smile, but it faltered. “Nothing you can help with. We should finish eating and get ready to leave. I have not seen Midgard in many years… I should like to return.”

  “Freydis. What is wrong?” Halfdan stared at her.

  She did her best to suppress a cough. “I disobeyed my master. Blessing has been replaced with a curse. Which is why it’s good we don’t pursue Loki. I have no gift anymore, no powers. I wouldn’t be of use to you.”

  The berserker rose to his feet, throwing out his arms. “Damn all that, are you sick? What is this?” Halfdan had heard so many stories about curses, but he had never seen the effect before. He realised that he knew nothing about sorcery or such supernatural powers; he could not fight a curse with his strength or weapons, and it frightened him.

  “I’m not sure,” Freydis claimed. “I just feel a little unwell. Sunlight will be good for me.”

  “Sif, what do you know?” Halfdan asked, turning to the skáld.

  The girl looked from one companion to another. “Well,” she began hesitantly, “there are different kinds, from the stories. This looks to be a wasting kind. If you’re already showing signs…”

  “You don’t have to say it,” Freydis told her. “I am aware.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “So you do know,” Halfdan declared. “Tell me!”

  She looked away, in every direction but his, before she finally had the courage to reply. “I’m dying. I imagine it’ll be days.”

  He stared at her in shock. “What?”

  “There’s a price to pay when you receive the blessing of those immortal powers. I knew what would happen if I disobeyed.” Freydis smiled weakly. “I didn’t expect to live long enough to face the consequences if you remember.”

  “What can be done?” Halfdan’s face changed from shock to determination.

  “There’s no magic that can heal this, no runes to reverse a curse summoned by my own actions.” The former priestess got on her feet with a little difficulty.

  “Someone can reverse this,” the berserker declared darkly. “The same man who caused it.”

  “Loki will never agree to that.”

  “I will not give him the choice.”

  “Halfdan,” she spoke, crossing their small camp to stand in front of him. “Don’t. Losing two lives in the vain attempt to save a doomed third… it is a poor decision.”

  “He’s fled from me once. I do not fear him,” Halfdan proclaimed.

  “If we’re right, he’s in Hel. The very ruler of that realm will be his protector. And if we’re wrong, it means we have no idea where to find him in all the nine worlds,” Freydis pointed out. “It is not worth the risk. Please, let us return to Midgard. Let me see the trees of my home one last time. Let me feel sunlight.” She placed her hand on his cheek.

  “He is in Hel.” Halfdan knew that without a doubt. All this time, he had misunderstood the rune-stave carved by the nornir. He had thought that it meant he would die in Sindri’s forge and end up in the hall of Hel. Now, at last, he understood. Loki was in Hel, hiding behind his daughter’s skirts. And Halfdan would find him there and do whatever it took. The berserker might not leave that place, but the rune-stave had said nothing about Sif or Freydis. “I will do this.” He almost found the fortitude to smile. “It’s my fate.”

  “What does that mean?” Sif interjected, having been silent for a while. “We are going to Hel? Land of the dead?”

  “Yes,” Halfdan said firmly, intercepting any protests from the former priestess, whose hand fell away from his face. “Freydis and I. You will send us through the gate with a stone to take us home.”

  The skáld looked up at him with an unimpressed attitude. “No. I’m going with you.”

  “Sif, I am not putting you through more danger.”

  “Too bad. You can’t go anywhere without me, so I’d say you don’t have much leverage in this negotiation.”

  “I’ll find another way –” Halfdan began to protest.

  “Furthermore, compared to Hel, both J?tunheim or even Myrkheim is undoubtedly a breeze to walk through. You really think you can navigate the land of the dead without a skáld? Or survive its dangers when neither of you possess magic?”

  “I can carve runes,” Halfdan retorted. “Worked well on her.” He nodded at Freydis.

  “Well you can’t open the gate, considering you just admitted that you need me to open it for you. When we fought that dead witch in J?tunheim, you sure didn’t seem like you knew much about magic. Might it be that you could use a little help when facing Hel, more dead and more witch than anybody else in all the nine realms?”

  Sif stared at him with defiance, and although Halfdan felt angry at her obstinance, he found himself lacking any response. Finally, Freydis chuckled, finishing with a cough. “She’s right. I have no powers. I know Loki, but I can do little to fight him. Or Hel. Or whom else we encounter.”

  “Leave that to me,” Halfdan remarked. He wondered if he should simply travel alone. He had Seeds to spare, after defeating the guardian in Sindri’s refuge. He could increase [Know the Runes] one more rank, which might be enough to let him open the gate rather than rely on Sif.

  But the girl was right; her knowledge of sorcery, not to mention the strange realm they would visit, might prove essential. Besides, selfishly and secretly, Halfdan would be glad of the company. If Hel was to be the last destination on his life’s journey, he disliked parting from his companions so soon after seeing them returned.

  “Fine,” he sighed. “We all go. As long as you know what to do if there’s fighting.”

  “Stay out of sight if you get angry,” Sif dutifully replied.

  “I wouldn’t put it that way – yes, fine. You understand.” Halfdan bent down to grab some mushrooms for breakfast. “Get your things. We leave.” He avoided looking at Freydis, but he suspected that time was not in their favour.

  “Hum. I will follow you to the gate, hum.”

  Sif smiled hearing this; quickly, they gathered their weapons and few other belongings, ready to depart the realm.

  *

  The journey through the dark lands of Myrkheim felt odd to Halfdan. On his first arrival, he had seen dangers behind every rock. Everything cast in eerie twilight had made him ill at ease, and his mind had been too occupied with concern to care for much else.

  Now they walked in safety, but his brow was just as heavy with worry as before, this time for Freydis. His decision to let Sif accompany them to Hel gnawed at him, concerned that he had allowed it for the wrong reasons. After so many years of a solitary life, it was strange to feel responsible for others; that the thought of harm coming to them filled him with dread.

  He had never felt an ounce of fear for himself walking into battle since becoming a berserker; now this emotion continued to plague him on behalf of others. And he would not want it differently. Watching a young girl skip ahead on the path next to a walking boulder, it nearly made him smile. And despite his heart breaking hearing Freydis’ troubled breathing, Halfdan knew that he could save her. She had been freed from Loki’s blessing by her own courage; now his would see her freed from Loki’s curse.

  The former priestess seemed to notice his gaze; she spoke no more than he did, but a faint smile, and her hand reaching out to briefly squeeze his, said it all.

  They made the ascent up the mountain that lay central in Myrkheim; atop was the ruined tower containing the gate. Halfdan glanced at the crevice where he had hidden, recovering after his injuries. It could not be more than a few days ago, counted in hours passed if not sunlight, and yet so much had changed.

  At last, they reached their destination. Inside the ruins, the gate awaited them, together with a pile of rocks cast across the floor. Halfdan cleared his throat, seeing the remains of the troll he had slain upon his arrival. “That was me,” he admitted, glancing at Rumble. “Sorry.”

  The troll did not respond but simply gathered up the rocks and pressed them against its own shape, absorbing them. “The children of the living rock do not die so easily, hum, hum.”

  “Well, that’s fortunate,” the berserker mumbled.

  “Goodbye, Rumble,” Sif said, sniffing. “I’ll come back and visit you.”

  “Hum, as you wish. You will always be welcome as guests, hum, hum, of the living rock.” The troll held out a stone limb and let five pebbles, one after the other, fall in front of Sif. Each was round and flat, made even in shape and size, making for perfect projectiles for her sling. “Hum, for when you need to strike true, hum. So I can protect you still.”

  “A gift! Thank you so much.” The girl picked up the stones and placed them in her belt bag before she gave the troll’s leg a hug.

  “Fare well, hum.”

  “Alright, let’s go,” Halfdan said, as he and Freydis took position on the gate. He bowed his head to the troll, unsure what else to do. An expressionless face, if it could even be called that, gave no response.

  Sif pulled away, ran her sleeve across her nose, and stepped onto the gate. Looking down, she simply spoke a word, “Nauer”, and the runes activated to whisk them away.