Picking up the trail proved easy. Halfdan steered in the direction where the path from the forest would lead up the mountain, and before long, he saw footprints. Plenty of them, which did unnerve him and superseded his marvel at how his seier could strengthen his eyesight, allowing him to pick out near invisible signs on barren rock in the night. But he told himself that numbers had not availed their enemies so far. Einherjar, J?tnar, Dwarves, trolls and other creatures could not stand against an immortal warrior of his prowess and abilities; he doubted Elves would fare any better. Halfdan only hoped his companions would emerge unscathed from any tussle as well.
*
They marched in silence for over an hour before Halfdan raised a hand. Ahead, the trail was getting crowded. He pointed in that direction; Freydis nodded in understanding and continued alone, disappearing into the dark.
Left behind, Halfdan and Sif pressed themselves against a rock cropping to stay out of sight, should the local populace be as keen-sighted as Halfdan had become. He kept his arms around Sif, if nothing else to provide her with warmth; the night was cold, and summer’s heat seemed already to be chased away by oncoming autumn.
Staying behind while others took action never sat well with Halfdan, but he knew that for all his powers, Freydis had a lifetime of experience in infiltration; she was better suited for this task, and their chances of success would only increase if he knew to take advantage of his companions and their skills.
Feeling Sif under his arm, he tried to push away the thoughts of danger that he also placed them in. He had lived on his own for years, and even before that, while Ylva had been his teacher, she had always kept him at arm’s length. Berserkers lived alone, and apprentices were a necessity to pass on their knowledge, but not someone they welcomed. Halfdan had always assumed family was something denied him after he ate the bear’s heart. Clutching his daughter close, waiting for his love to return, he still found it difficult to believe the twists of his fate.
*
Freydis appeared as if conjured from air. “One sentinel,” she whispered. “I hid his body, but he will be missed sooner or later.”
“We were always on borrowed time,” Halfdan mumbled. If they were still on the mountain when the sun rose, they would surely be spotted and hunted all the way back to the tunnels. “Let’s go.” He and Sif got up, stretching stiff limbs before quickly falling into place behind Freydis.
The footprints became more numerous and more complicated, crossing each other or circling around, suggesting traffic in various directions. Eventually, Halfdan saw where a pair of heels had been dragged away, leaving a faint groove – the sign of Freydis’ work hiding the sentinel.
Ahead lay the entrance to a cave. “Probably a dozen inside,” Halfdan whispered, estimating from the number of footprints outside. That should be within their capabilities to fight, especially if the fighting grounds were narrow. “I’ll go first. Sif, stay behind me at all times.”
They continued, entering the dark interior of the mountain. Halfdan’s [Seier] aided him as before, allowing him to view the cave as if illuminated by dull, grey light. The opening was wide at first, but quickly slimmed to a corridor. Holding his hammer, Halfdan could not raise it above his head without striking the ceiling; the close quarters hampered him as well. But he had his new sorcerous powers that might work instead.
As they turned a bend, they were greeted by proper light; strange gems lined the tunnel, acting as torches without burning, though leaving the occasional shadow between them. Halfdan blinked, and his vision returned to normal. He noticed that the walls were entirely smooth. Likewise, the ground had been flattened. The outer cave might have been a natural formation, but this was clearly shaped by hands. Wary, they pressed on.
While [Seier] helped Halfdan’s eyes, he still relied on [Keen of Sense]; soft footfall reached him from somewhere ahead, and he quickly raised a hand to silently alert his companions. They all froze, but they could do little more. The narrow tunnel allowed no place to hide, nor did they have time to scramble back; clenching his jaw, Halfdan prepared for battle.
A creature appeared from a bend, wearing the leather of animals hunted and a long dagger in their belt. At first glance, they appeared human until Halfdan noticed the green pattern that spread along their cheeks, like leaves that lived on their skin. The expression of complete surprise on their face was the same as any human’s, however. Before they could collect themselves or, more importantly, raise the alarm, Freydis blinked forward to close the gap and plant a dagger in their throat. She caught the dying Elf before they fell to the ground. Halfdan hurried forward to help her, catching the body.
They looked around. There was no place to hide the corpse in the tunnel. Shrugging, Halfdan threw it over his shoulder, steadying it with one hand while the other carried his hammer. He and Freydis exchanged nods, and they continued onwards, this time with her taking the lead.
*
Now and then, the path forked, and as they had no knowledge of their route, they had to guess. The berserker turned towards his skáld, hoping she might have insight. “I sense something powerful that way,” she whispered, pointing down one corridor, and they followed her suggestion.
They had not come far before Halfdan noticed footfall again. He touched Freydis with his hammer, alerting her, and they all halted. As before, an Elf appeared in the other end of the corridor, and as their predecessor, frozen in surprise long enough for Freydis to move in and silently kill them. This left them with the same problem as before. With some difficulty, Halfdan managed to place his hammer back in its leather strap and throw the second body over his other shoulder, now carrying one on each.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
The situation felt so ridiculous, he would have laughed in resignation if he dared raise any sound. Luck had favoured them, he realised, and it felt too good to be true. There was something at work unbeknownst to him, making their passage easier than expected, and it troubled him. All the same, time was not on their side, and they could not afford to stand still. He threw his head forward as a quiet command, and led by Freydis, they resumed their march deeper into the mountain.
*
The winding corridors continued, though it hardly bothered them after their long journey through the tunnels from Myrkheim. Halfdan would have preferred that darkness rather than the eerie light that the Elves had ensured for themselves; both he and Freydis worked best in full darkness, especially now that his [Seier] let him see without illumination.
At length, the long, narrow path came to a close, expanding into a room. It was devoid of living beings, though it had a stone table in the centre, on which a headless skeleton lay. Halfdan placed the dead Elves from his shoulders on the ground, glad to be rid of the burden. All of them approached the macabre remains.
“Is this the fellow?”
“Kvasir did lose his head.” Sif shrugged. “And I feel a sense of power coming from the bones. What drew us down here.”
Halfdan tried to focus and feel what the skáld felt, but he did not know how to. It was like trying to use a new limb he had never moved before. Still, he doubted that other headless skeletons would be lying around besides Kvasir’s.
He reached out and grabbed a skeletal hand, and as he touched it, he finally felt the tingle of magic that Sif presumably had spoken about. Any lingering doubt vanished. A promise of destruction lay in these bones, once a symbol of peace now easy to shatter. Quickly, Halfdan tore away the finger bones until he had nine in his possession and could put them away.
“I suppose that’s it. Let’s get out of here.”
In that moment, a high-pitched howling from the threshold alerted them to the presence of an Elven sentinel, just as it alerted the rest of the mountain to their presence.
*
The guard tore a vicious blade from his belt. Not only that, he seemed to multiply; suddenly, six Elves stood in the room, all of them identical to the first. They ran forward to engage the intruders.
Halfdan used his hammer to force them back, making the most of the space to swing it wide. Sif unleashed her magic, and it seemed to cause confusion, temporarily halting their assault, though they quickly resumed it. Freydis stabbed her spear with precision, impaling one Elf – only to withdraw her weapon without blood on the steel, and her enemy fighting with as much vigour as before.
Some manner of deception at work, Halfdan guessed. They had faced all kinds of illusions on their journeys across the nine realms, and it was no surprise that the denizens of Alfheim possessed their own trickery. He had been confused at first, seeing the sudden number of guards appear in the cave, but he realised there was still only one.
Trusting his new ability, he called on his [Seier] to enhance his sight again. At once, five of the Elves seemed to fade, appearing more like shades than flesh and blood. Ignoring them, Halfdan stepped past their lines to strike his hammer at the Elf standing in the back. As his weapon crushed a skull open, all of the illusions disappeared, leaving them alone. “Hurry!” Halfdan roared, leading the way out.
*
Before, they had moved one cautious step at a time, and Halfdan had carried two corpses on his shoulders; now, they ran with all haste, and yet, the tunnels seemed to stretch far longer. They turned corner after corner, Sif calling out directions whenever they reached a fork. Further behind them, Halfdan’s ears picked up the noise of boots; other guards were elsewhere in the complex, chasing them.
Clearing another bend, their luck seemed at an end. The path out was blocked by numerous Elves, and Halfdan’s eyes told him they were not illusions. They carried hunting weapons; arrows flew against them, and spears were lowered to form a wall. Behind the intruders, their pursuers caught up and likewise took position.
“Hold them back, both of you!” Halfdan shouted. He could better fight alone. Arrows struck him in the back, caught by his armour; ignoring them, he charged forward. His hammer swept the spears away, breaking several of their shafts, though others hit their mark against his less protected legs. Grunting in pain, the berserker fell to one knee before rising up again. Behind him, he heard Sif’s galdr, and he hoped it would suffice together with Freydis’ abilities; he could not spare the look over his shoulder.
More arrows came, expertly shot by the Elves in the back without striking their fellows. All of them hit the berserker, though as before, his armour made a mockery of them. New spears thrust forward to replace those broken; Halfdan dealt with them as before, some destroyed, others allowed to wound him. This time, he was faster, or the guards simply had no more they could bring to bear; pushing forward, Halfdan was finally within reach of his enemies, and [Heart of Yggdrasil] claimed its first victim.
*
Sif unleashed her song, a cacophony to the ears of their enemies. Some of the Elves fell back, confused or dazed by her galdr, but others resisted, leaving Freydis with plenty of enemies. Fortunately, she had more than her spear available. She called on [Most Favoured], and in the far end of the corridor, behind her enemies, a great bear appeared.
The deceiver’s fylgja rose to its full height, its head scraping against the ceiling, and released a roar. Although it contained no sorcery like Sif’s, it caused a panic unrivalled by anything magic could do. The desperate Elves suddenly pressed themselves together to flee, away from the terrifying creature, and they disrupted each other further, allowing Freydis to fell several. Sif had switched to her sling, and in the close quarters, she could not miss.
Halfdan felt the release of power as Freydis used her ability, and it interrupted his swing, allowing an Elf to retaliate, smashing his face with the blunt end of a spear and splitting his lip. Halfdan quickly stepped back to buy himself a moment for recovery, knowing she had called upon his fylgja for good reason; in a cramped space like this, the bear would tear through their enemies. He grimaced, feeling a spear thrust into him, or rather, into his spirit; the bear knew only rage, never caution, and would charge recklessly forward. Unfortunately, any injuries suffered by the fylgja was Halfdan’s problem to handle.
Despite his momentary misstep, leaving him exposed, Halfdan’s enemies did not press their advantage. He blinked, confused, wondering what kept them back as he regained his stance and readied his hammer for another exchange.
In front of Halfdan, the Elves parted, as much as they could in the narrow tunnel. Another being strode forward, similar to them in appearance, but possessive of power they could never wield.
Halfdan spat blood from his mouth. “Freyr.”
