Once they were outside, Fenrir ran off. “Wait!” Sif shouted, but the wolf did not slow down. Within moments, it was far away.

  Halfdan understood why. “Let him run. He’s a predator. Let him hunt.” If I had been imprisoned for that long, I’d have done the same.

  “And if Odin returns?” asked Freydis.

  “I’m sure our new companion can smell him out miles away. But he won’t – return, that is.” Halfdan gestured towards the way they had come earlier. “Let’s be off.” He began walking, and the others followed.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “He intervened personally because of urgency, I reckon. Nobody else could make it to the cave fast enough to stop us,” Halfdan considered. “But he assumed he’d be able to stop us. With Fenrir loose, he’ll never risk his own hide. Not unless he’s got no other choice.”

  “He’ll still try to stop us,” Freydis argued.

  “Yes, and he’s desperate now that the end is in sight. He’ll throw everything at us.” The berserker exhaled, thinking about what that meant. “And only then, after that, will he show his face again. When all other options are exhausted.”

  “Will we be ready? Soon, we can’t hide or rely on subterfuge. They’ll come for us, all the gods arrayed against us.”

  Halfdan looked at his priestess; concern was chiselled into her face. “I’ve been in contact with my new followers. They’re on their way. We got allies of our own.” He glanced in the direction where Fenrir had disappeared to, and beneath his feet, he thought that he could feel the earth rumble. “More than they know.”

  *

  When they had marched for half a day, Fenrir returned. Its jaws were bloody; somehow, he had been able to find prey in the wintery landscape. Sif woke up, on Halfdan’s shoulders – they had spent the night marching too, after all – and she greeted the wolf enthusiastically. “Halfdan, let me ride Fen.”

  “He’s not a pet nor a steed,” Halfdan grumbled. “He’s the most dangerous creature in all of Asgard, perhaps even me included.”

  “He’s a good dog, is what he is. Let me down.”

  Accompanied by more grumbling, Halfdan put the girl on the ground, and she hurried over to make Fenrir lie down. With some difficulty, Sif climbed onto his back. Although a ridiculous sight, Halfdan figured it might be for the better. If they were attacked, he could hardly fight with a child on his shoulders, and she was probably safer on the wolf’s back than anywhere else. Nobody would be foolish enough to charge a creature of such monstrous size, especially one that even Odin feared.

  “Perhaps you should join her,” he suggested to Freydis. He suspected that like himself, Fenrir did not grow tired, at least not at the pace that mortals did; they could move speedily with both of his two-legged companions riding the four-legged one.

  “I’m quite certain he will not allow that, and I don’t think I should push my luck. Unless you think I have one hand too many?”

  “Point conceded,” he mumbled. They resumed their march.

  *

  When Freydis had reached her point of exhaustion as well, they made camp. They had no food left and had to sustain themselves only on water. Halfdan kept watch, and he suspected that Fenrir also remained awake, even if the wolf was lying down. He imagined its senses were far keener than his and would discover anyone coming close to their small camp. Along with his spells and runes, cast to make them less noticeable, Halfdan figured they were as well defended as could be.

  But there would be consequences for releasing Fenrir. Odin could travel across great distances in the blink of an eye; undoubtedly, he was back at Valh?ll, handing out orders to his many servants, including the other gods. It might take a day or two, three or more, but the response was already on its way. This could be their last hours of tranquillity, however frail it might be.

  Halfdan still needed a final Seed of Power to unlock the full potential of his abilities, including those required to begin Ragnar?k, but he suspected the chance to gain more in battle would present itself soon. As a berserker, he kept what he killed, and there would be plenty of that soon.

  *

  Once awake and back on the trail, they made good time. Stealth was pointless when travelling with a wolf the size of a house, and since Sif rode its back, they could set a faster pace. Halfdan constantly watched the horizon and the sky, never knowing where danger might strike. But Odin did not act in haste this time, it seemed; nobody accosted them as they approached the tunnel between Asgard and Myrkheim. And once close, Halfdan recognised tents raised among the naked trees.

  The J?tnar had done theirs to make their camp less obvious, and their few numbers helped as well. An advantage so far, though the few hundreds assembled would not suffice for the battle ahead, Halfdan knew.

  The encamped J?tnar noticed the travelling group as well; Fenrir made it easy. Quickly, eagerly, they gathered with excited voices to swarm the newly arrived, though a growl from the wolf made them back away again.

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  Halfdan recognised a few of them from Utgarda-Loki’s farm, including Helga, the first J?tun he had freed. He felt the bond with her; she was his priestess, drawing on him for power. It gave her abilities of her own, similar to those he enjoyed as Loki, most importantly breaking chains. Judging by the numbers present, she and the others of his priesthood had done exactly that.

  “Master,” she greeted him, kneeling.

  “None of that,” he growled. “None of my followers kneel for anybody, not even me.”

  She got back up, and others who had been emulating her gesture quickly interrupted themselves.

  “How many are you?”

  “Two and a half hundred or so. More arrive each day. We spread all across J?tunheim, doing as you commanded.” Helga’s eyes shone with fervour.

  “Good. We must expect an attack any day now,” he cautioned her, raising his voice so everyone could hear. “We need to fortify this position.” They could withdrew back into the tunnels and have the trolls dig another entrance, but Halfdan considered that a last resort. The prophecy stated that Loki led an army of J?tnar to Asgard; here, the ritual would be performed and Ragnar?k unleashed. It had to be on this ground, hallowed or cursed, depending on one’s outlook. Battle was unavoidable, and given that Halfdan needed one more Seed of Power, he welcomed it.

  Except as he looked at so many eager faces, their devotion to him as their saviour obvious, Halfdan realised he owed them a loyalty in turn. He had freed them, and they had chosen to follow him into peril, simply because they trusted him. He had a responsibility for them.

  All his life, whenever hearing stories about the Aesir and J?tnar, the latter had been the villains. Same for the trolls that Thor would slaughter with impunity. But the latter had proven steadfast friends, and the J?tnar… Halfdan had become one of them, if not by blood, then by bond. Same as Sif, his child in all aspects that mattered.

  His grand plan, his way to escape Odin’s snare, it could not simply be for himself or a select few of his companions. His aims had to expand. The price for keeping Ragnar?k under leash was not just safety for him and his; it had to be peace for all, the very peace that Odin had shattered with his fear and suspicion, his need to foresee the future.

  “We must prepare to fight,” Halfdan reiterated. “But if we hold fast, fate willing, it’ll be the last battle we ever have to fight against Odin, the Aesir, and all their ilk!”

  His people cheered, and though some looked daunted, others regarded their leader flanked by an enormous wolf.

  “To work!” someone called out, presumably with experience in this matters. “We need ditches! Pile the dirt up to make ramparts, and cut those trees down! Let’s get some spikes hammered into our defences.”

  Ready to set an example, Halfdan grabbed the nearest tree and pulled it up, roots and all. His people cheered and laughed, and work began.

  *

  Halfdan recalled the first time that words had appeared before his inner eye above the tree that showed his gift. A message from Odin, a demand or order, telling him to travel to Urd’s Well. Now he gave out tasks to his followers, telling them the path to follow to and from dark Myrkheim, through darker tunnels, that they might gather in Asgard.

  And all as one, they obeyed. For the next three days, their numbers swelled, and their camp alongside. Simple fortifications were built, a rampart with a ditch and sharpened wooden poles to hinder enemy formations from advancing. Within, simple tents rose; the J?tnar arrived with what they could carry, which meant fabric for shelter, food, and weapons.

  Snow fell several hours every day, but better that than rain; hardy people, the J?tnar were not troubled by the cold. Each time the snowfall had ended, they gathered it up and threw it in their ditch. It would not serve as well as water in a moat, but it all hindered progress and slowed down attackers.

  Halfdan kept himself busy; his strength matched that of his people, and he could help with manual labour as well as them. It also kept his mind from wandering. Left idle, his thoughts strayed towards the upcoming battle and what lay beyond; his great gamble, his attempt at forcing Odin to negotiations, the responsibility for everyone in their camp. There was nothing more Halfdan could do to improve the chances of success, and thus, his speculation simply ran in circles, retreading the same pattern while letting doubt fester. Better to stay busy with simple tasks. And at night, when all were weary, Sif entertained the J?tnar with songs and tales from Midgard, a realm they knew so little of.

  Halfdan sent out scouts as well, naturally, and his people kept a sharp watch around their camp. Their enemy had all manner of known and unknown powers at their disposal. Attacks could come at any moment, taking any kind of shape.

  All kept an eye out for black-feathered birds, though none were spotted. Halfdan guessed that with their position fixed, Odin had other ways to spy on them. All the same, many of the J?tnar kept their eyes locked on the sky. Not only for the birds, but for the threat they feared and loathed above all. The thunder god had killed countless of their kin and kind, and now, they stood on Asgard’s soil.

  After eight days, their scouts returned with news. Halfdan and his people had been granted more time than he expected, allowing them time to prepare their defences and shore up their numbers. But what Odin’s response lacked in speed, it compensated for with strength.

  “Thousands upon thousands,” panted one scout.

  “Tens of thousands!” added another.

  “And warriors on chariots, taller than any man has right to be.”

  Halfdan nodded to himself. Odin had sent all the einherjar under his command, and every god in Asgard, presumably. An army of such size marched slowly, and it was a long road from Valh?ll, costing them time. But they outnumbered the J?tnar ten to one, and each of the Aesir counted as a hundred warriors.

  As for his own people, many of them were novices in their gift, having only received one when their slave collar was broken. Odin had no need for haste when these were the armies arrayed against each other.

  But Halfdan had a few extra arrows in his quiver as well. A wolf, a skáld, his priesthood, his own abilities, and more.

  This would be the test. If they lost the battle, they could flee into the tunnels, but they would never get this chance again. The J?tnar would not follow him a second time. Odin would have won, and they would be hunted down. Defeat would be no different or no better than dying. No second chances. In that sense, it was victory or death.

  Halfdan smiled. As a berserker, he would have it no other way.