To nobody’s dismay, the trolls required a little more time to complete the tunnel to Alfheim, their next destination. They had no choice but to delay for that long, staying in Sindri’s forge and passing the time as on their last visit. The truce with the Dwarves held; the few trolls not busy at work kept watch, but had nothing to report. Besides time spent with Freydis, Halfdan practised his new powers, though the lack of a teacher or any instructions hindered his progress. Sif could not help; her magic lay in galdr and runes, not seier.

  And as before, hours of leisure and pleasure were stolen time that could not last long. After what amounted to a day or two in the old ruins, Mossbeard returned to tell them that they had broken through to Alfheim. With mushrooms in his pack and a weapon on his back, Halfdan set out together with his companions for the land of the Elves.

  *

  The journey this time proved longer. They walked, ate, slept, walked and ate another full turn before they had to sleep a second time, still in the tunnels. As before, the trolls had given them no indication of how far the march; Halfdan felt reasonably certain they understood that creatures of flesh needed to eat regularly to survive, but they probably had no knowledge of how many provisions a day were required for two humans. As for himself, he could press on alone if need be, enduring however long he had to. While lack of food left him weaker, Halfdan was not certain that starvation could actually kill him. Loki had spent a near eternity imprisoned in the cave, presumably without being fed.

  Halfdan was not keen to face Alfheim on his own, though. Both of his companions were powerful in their own right, and besides their prowess in battle, they had knowledge he might need. For instance, he did not know anything about the bones that he sought. “Sif, who is Kvasir?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Right, I figured considering we’re gathering his bones. But who was he?”

  “He’s… uh, this takes some explaining.”

  “We got plenty of road ahead of us.” Unfortunately true, Halfdan thought.

  “You know there was a war between Aesir and Vanir? Long, long ago.”

  “Sounds familiar, sure.”

  “When it ended, to seal the peace, all of them spat in the same clay pot.”

  Halfdan sent her a look as she walked behind him. “Usually such an act would provoke a fight rather than end it.”

  “Then they made the pot come alive and turn into a man named Kvasir.”

  “Of course, what else would you do with a clay pot full of spit?” The berserker shook his head. Even with his own acquirement of such powers, he detested how magic upended the order of things and cast everything he thought he knew about the world into doubt. Next to him, Freydis noticed his expression and bit on her lip to suppress a smile.

  “Turned out, Kvasir possessed all the wisdom of both Aesir and Vanir, making him the wisest creature. Everyone came from afar to seek his counsel.”

  “I imagine he eventually said the wrong thing, given he’s no longer among those breathing.”

  “Some Dwarves became envious of his wisdom and killed him to steal it, cutting off his head.”

  “Nasty little bastards.” Halfdan almost added a hum, feeling like a troll.

  “That’s a whole other story. Point is, Kvasir is dead. His head is gone, but the rest of his body… the old tales don’t mention what happened to it. I guess it ended up in Alfheim somehow, buried there.”

  “With his bones intact. Speaking of, Freya said we’d have to look within the bones of Ymir. Where’s that?” Halfdan noticed that his one companion seemed to tense up, though he could not guess what he had said to cause that, and before he could ask, the other, smaller companion replied to his initial question.

  “That’s easy. Those are the mountains.”

  “What?” Halfdan cast another look over his shoulder at the skáld. “I thought when she said it like that, it was somewhere obvious. Are we supposed to search through every mountain?”

  “Walking in open, mountainous terrain with birds flying over to spy our every move,” Freydis muttered.

  “Can’t you narrow it down?” Halfdan asked of Sif.

  “Skálds don’t know everything,” she protested.

  “They just act like it,” he teased, though he did not blame her; she was right that it was not fair to expect her to have every answer. Once in Alfheim, they would simply have to figure out a way to determine the route to their destination. The locals had been helpful in J?tunheim and Vanaheim; it might be possible to find someone not aligned with the Aesir in Alfheim as well. Or so Halfdan hoped.

  *

  They did not realise the tunnel was coming to an end at first; they had arrived at nighttime, leaving no sunlight to reveal the open lands ahead. The truth only became apparent as the walls around them disappeared, revealing the dark interior of a forest instead. The sudden expansion of their surroundings left Halfdan feeling vulnerable; they were exposed from all sides, and according to Freya’s warning, they should expect hostility. All the same, nothing to do but carry on.

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  Except the previous problem already reared its head. None of them had any idea as to the direction. Finally, Halfdan climbed what he judged to be the tallest of the nearby trees. If he could see any signs of habitation nearby, they might follow that to spy on the locals or convince them to help.

  With a few powerful moves, the berserker quickly ascended the branches to reach above the forest ceiling. Once above the canopy of leaves, he could see more than initially assumed; the moon provided sufficient light to give him an idea of the area. At first, it appeared to be ill news, however. In all directions, everything appeared uniform; nothing but trees and more trees. No fires of any kind, not even reflections of the moonlight that would indicate large bodies of water suitable for a settlement.

  But as Halfdan looked further, he saw the dark shape of mountains. An entire range to one side, and a lonesome peak to another. Staring intently at the latter, he knew it in his bones to be their destination. Maybe because it was clearly taller than any other, or due to the solitary majesty of its appearance. He was hard pressed to articulate how he knew, but as before, it simply felt right. His brethren of the immortal kind did not make decisions haphazardly or devoid of meaning; they had placed Kvasir’s bones in Ymir’s bones, after all.

  Halfdan descended the tree quickly. “This Kvasir, this fellow we’re looking for…”

  “His bones,” Sif corrected him.

  “Yes, sure. Well, he was important, right? Symbol of peace between Aesir and Vanir and all that.”

  “Peace between scoundrels,” Freydis muttered.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “They will keep him in a place of importance, in that case,” Halfdan mumbled, nodding to himself.

  “What did you see?” asked Sif.

  “I saw the mountain where he is laid to rest. In Ymir’s bones.” The berserker tried to give an encouraging smile, disguising his apprehension at the journey ahead. “Let’s be off.”

  *

  The forest was a delight, painted in all the colours of autumn. Soon, winter would claim those leaves and drastically change the landscape, but they had arrived in time to enjoy the scenery – and the protection from unfriendly eyes that the foliage still provided.

  That did not allow Halfdan to relax. He knew any animal could be a spy, either for the Aesir or the Elves and Freyr, their lord. Every sound of a creature scurrying across the forest floor or wings flapping caught his attention, making him whip his head around. But he could do nothing, of course; it was impossible to intercept every animal they came across as they bounded away, possibly to bear news of the intruders into Alfheim. Halfdan had no recourse but to stay alert and hope he discovered any ambush in time.

  When darkness fell, they had to break for the night. They ate their meagre provisions in silence and went to sleep, Halfdan excepted; he did not dare to close his eyes even to do his half-asleep dozing, where he remained alert to sounds. He stayed on his feet, hammer in hand, while the others rested at his feet.

  *

  Dawn came after eventless hours, and they resumed their journey. Every now and then, Halfdan ascended another tree to ensure they maintained the right course. After a while, he noticed that their route coincided with a path through the forest undergrowth. At first, he imagined it to be a coincidence; they walked on it simply because it was easier to move on the grass and plants trodden down by animals before them. But every time he climbed a tree to check their direction, he found that the path in the forest led directly that way.

  It seemed too odd to be innocuous. He could think of no reason why the creatures of the woods would go towards the mountain; it possessed no food, neither plants nor prey, that the animals might want, and they would have no cause to leave the forest for the barren peak.

  Halfdan did not mention it to the others; he imagined it would simply unnerve them as it did him without providing any clarity. Instead, he purposely led their small band into another direction, continuing for a good while before he corrected course again to lead them back towards the mountain. If beings more dangerous than woodland animals had created that path, it seemed best to keep their distance from it. But the concern caused by his discovery could not be as easily abandoned; it suggested that their destination was populated.

  *

  As the day waned, they trudged through the woods where it sloped upwards, encroaching on the foothills of the lone peak they approached. Not long before dusk, the trees thinned to such a degree, it ceased to be a forest. Crucially, they provided little cover either to unfriendly eyes. “We’ll wait here,” Halfdan muttered. “We’ll have to rely on the cloak of darkness before advancing.”

  “When the time comes, I should scout ahead,” Freydis suggested. “In the dark, I can be near invisible.”

  Halfdan nodded. “Agreed.”

  “We should expect company. Given the path in the forest.”

  Halfdan glanced in her direction, not sure why he thought she would have missed the signs or their implications. “We should.”

  “I consider it a good thing,” she continued.

  “How so?”

  Freydis gave a thin smile. “You only place guards somewhere worth guarding.”

  Sif snorted with laughter, and Halfdan could not argue against her reasoning.

  *

  When night fell properly, a strong moon shone above them. “I can still keep myself hidden,” Freydis claimed, though she sounded less sure of herself. “I’ll just have to be slower… try to find the shadows where they are.”

  Looking up at the sky, Halfdan felt his seier stirring. Although not at its full strength, and while he had little experience with it, the power in him desired to be used. He focused on his desire, his will to affect the world around him and bend it to his needs. Moments later, distant clouds approached until they covered the moon, diminishing its light.

  “Well, that solves one problem. Though it creates another. Finding the trail will be hard now,” Freydis considered.

  “Not necessarily.” Halfdan looked out from among the trees, and he felt his sight respond to his [Seier]. His vision changed; any lingering colour seemed to fade entirely, but even the faint light that barely managed to reach past the clouds intensified. He found himself easily able to inspect the ground ahead. “I’ll go first and pick up the trail. Once it grows dense, when we’re closer, you continue on your own,” he told Freydis.

  She did not question his abilities. “Lead the way.” Together, the three companions abandoned the fickle safety of the forest and began their ascent of Ymir’s bones.