Authors: T. G. Ayer
Surt howled his frustration. I threw the ball at his fist, knocking the sword from his hand. The weapon tumbled to the ground, losing its living flame to reveal a plain, ugly steel blade. He stared at his empty fist and then at my face; angry confusion darkened his face. Surt did not like defeat.
His eyes flamed, swirling orange and red, much like Loki's multihued eyes. When he ran at me, I swung the ball and chain again, catching him at the ankles. The ball curved around both his ankles, tying them together like a trussed chicken. Surt tilted, falling to the ground. He landed with a thunderous thud. Rocks, loosened from the impact, fell from above our heads and I ducked.
Aidan sat up, eyes dazed and filled with pain. I went to him, a bit fearful he would push me away, but he didn't resist. We skirted the unconscious giant, not daring to spend any time studying him.
We crossed the large cavern, hurrying to the passageway, as fast as we could with Aidan almost passing out on my shoulder. Hugin fluttered down from his safe perch in a blur of black, flying ahead of us. I kept the ball and chain, figuring I might need it. In a land as unusual as Muspell, it no doubt helped to have unusual weapons on hand.
As soon as we thought we were safe from the fiery, angry giant, we stopped to rest. Both Aidan and I benefited from sitting down, and a good old slug of Mead put a zing in our veins. My bullet wound had closed but was still incredibly painful to touch.
When I tried to check Aidan for broken bones or other injuries beneath his armor, he batted my hands away and rose to his feet. Then he set a pace that began to worry me. Sure, he would want to get Brisingamen and get out of here, but not at the expense of his health. I'd have no hope of saving him if he killed himself before we got back to Asgard.
The journey seemed endless; and with no daylight to tell us the hour, I was unable to guess how long we had left. I tried to think of other things, or to concentrate on following Hugin. I even replayed my fight with Surt in my mind to see if I could learn anything from it. Nothing worked. I was tired, drained of emotional and physical energy, and just a little drained of faith.
When I was absolutely sure I could go no further, that one more step would just about kill me, Hugin slowed down.
We approached a ledge, overlooking a large canyon. Aidan stuck a hand out to prevent me from stepping straight into the void and tumbling to my death. A ledge, carved out of the solid rock, curved around the canyon, descending all the way to the ground. A part of my brain thought it looked strangely like a wheelchair ramp. Go Muspell for full compliance with disability access laws.
A thunderous, deep-throated growl stopped us in our tracks. We peered over the edge and stared in abject horror at the creature moving around at the base of the canyon. It glinted, gold and fiery within the dark shadows at the base of the cavern.
"He is the Nidhogg. He is the leader of the Race of Nidhogg," said Hugin.
I tried to calm my nerves, but breathing exercises didn't help at all. In the end, I just relayed Hugin's revelation.
"Well, could you ever say that life was boring?" asked Aidan.
"Nope, negotiating the release of a mythical necklace, with a bloody real-live dragon is all part of day's work where I come from," I answered, not sounding in the least bit overjoyed at the prospect.
Aidan chuckled tiredly, then shuffled to the ramp. I got the message—make it out of here in one piece. I followed, descending into the dragon's lair, resigning myself to a Warrior's death.
I sighed silently, listening to the hollow popping in my ears as we dropped, finally reaching the bottom. Aidan could barely stand upright. We'd come this far, and turning back was not an option, especially when the route back was most definitely cut off.
A blast of heat singed us, hotter and angrier than the temperature of the passageways. The dragon hulked before us, his rippling golden scales reflected the meager light. He exhaled fire-flecked puffs of air high above us. The pads of his feet ended in curved golden claws as large as each of my legs.
I shook my head. This was impossible. How did we expect to fight this golden beast?
The dragon had a wingspan greater than that of a small plane. In fact, the creature was larger than a Cessna, towering over us. If it hadn't been for Aidan, I would have turned and ran. I gripped my sword and my stolen ball and chain, more for comfort that intention to use them. What good were they against so fierce a creature?
He stared at us with eyes so reminiscent of the amber gems of Brisingamen that I had to blink a few times before I was convinced I wasn't seeing things.
He didn't wait too long to strike. We were trespassers, interlopers on his territory. And what would a dragon do but defend his turf? I circled him, leaving Aidan propped against a wall. He was in no shape to be fighting, and I felt a pang of fear. How much time did he really have left? A twisting in my belly hinted that our time was almost up.
The golden wings spread out, and the dragon roared; streams of liquid fire spewed from his open jaws. His mouth, lined with people-sized teeth, clamped shut just inches from my face. I swung my sword around my head, threatening, but not yet ready to move in.
He swiped at me with one of his unusually short hands. Or were they technically legs? His blow connected with my chest, sending me flying into the rough rock face behind me. Armor crunched between my body and the unforgiving rock.
I pulled a golden scale the size of a dinner plate from my armor. I might take that with me as a souvenir if I lived through this battle. It was all so surreal. A scale made of pure gold, a beard of pure fire. I sighed.
Dragons and fire giants. Why am I not surprised?
He waited for me to rise, circling me, golden orbs watching with interest. I lunged, felt the sword connect and then needed to stop my ears against the incredible roar of pain. But I couldn't afford to let go of my weapon. I watched as he limped, retreating for a second. But his dragon anger or dragon pride didn't allow him to back down.
He charged at me again. I mimicked Surt's throw and flung the ball and chain at the dragon's forelegs. The ball hit his left leg, the chain spinning around and tightening over both his ankles as his momentum kept him moving forward. Unable to prevent it, he fell face first, in much the same way as Surt did—the same bone-crunching thud into the ground followed by similar mini-avalanches of rock from the upper regions of the rock faces.
The dragon groaned. Breathed a few weak puffs of fire, and collapsed onto the ground, his huge pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. His golden eyelids shut over his large eyes.
I leaned over, breathing hard, reveling in my victory. I should have kept a close eye on his tail. Should not have taken my attention off such a powerful weapon.
It might have been the smile that did it. I was a bit proud of my victory. A tiny female and I'd taken down a humungous dragon. I didn't see his tail spin around, didn't see the tip of it, as large as a bed, come flying through the air at me.
I felt it, though. A rush of air alerted me, but it was too late. Too late to move, I could only watch as it bore down on me.
Then I went flying through the air, hitting the ground, striking my elbow against the stone floor, sending stars flying through my head. But the impact was smaller than what I'd expected. I looked up, and caught the perplexed expression on the dragon's face as he twisted his upper body around. He was staring now at Aidan, who stood glaring at the beast, his sword dripping great big drops of golden blood.
I watched in amazement as the dragon blinked, looked slightly cross-eyed and crumpled to the ground again.
I caught my breath. Aidan limped toward me.
"Good job there, Valkyrie."
"Back atcha, Warrior."
He pulled me up, propped me against him and began to dig into the bag for the Mead.
"No, I'm fine." I shook my head, listening to the deep huffing sound of the dragon's unconscious breathing. "You drink it. You need it way more than me."
"You're kidding me, right?" he said, shock on his face. "You look like you're halfway to the grave."
"You need to last until we get back to Asgard. The Mead gives you strength. I can manage without it, but you need it to survive."
***
The silence pricked my awareness. The dragon no longer emitted those small, spark-filled puffs of breath. We looked around for the Nidhogg but the canyon was now strangely silent. How could such a huge creature slink away without us noticing? Impossible. Yet somehow he’d magically puffed into thin air.
"Great timing. Where the hell did he go?" Aidan asked under his breath.
I nudged him in the ribs, forgetting for an instant that his body was failing him.
A step up led to a stone platform, remarkably similar to Odin's dais in his Great Hall. A large stone throne took up the center of the platform, intricately carved with images of trees and fire and dragons. The throne lay empty. A man stood to the right of it. He held a swatch of fabric against his forearm, and his large golden eyes fixed onto Aidan and me as we stood staring back at him.
He looked ordinary enough. Golden-haired and large, though not in a brutish sort of way. But one thing screamed that he was far from your usual good-looking blond hunk.
The tiny scales of his golden reptilian skin glittered as he moved toward us.
"Please don't tell me
he
is the dragon," Aidan whispered beside me.
"Er, pretty sure he is."
The Nidhogg moved closer. He didn't walk or stride. It was more of a smooth glide. I looked at his feet and yes, he had two of them.
"A Valkyrie and a Warrior. I am well and truly defeated." He bowed, and even his voice sounded rich and smooth.
"I apologize for fighting with you," I said, more hesitant and flustered than I'd ever been before. I flushed. "We're in need of a favor. Many lives depend on it."
I wiped my brow and succeeded in only spreading soot over my moist face and arms.
"It was a fair fight, my dear. And you won. I see you have met Bal." He nodded so slightly that I almost missed it.
"Bal?" I asked, confused.
"Bal, the fire giant whose weapon you now hold in your hand."
"I thought his name was Surt."
"No, he is a Surt, a fire giant. But his name is Bal." The dragon-man smiled benevolently then walked to his throne and seated himself. "Very well then, you may tell me what it is that you wish me to do for you."
"I—we have been searching for Brisingamen," I said. "And we've been told that you have it. Or most of it anyway." Aidan shifted from one foot to another beside me.
I was amazed the dragon-man allowed me to finish. He fairly vibrated with raw rage.
"Who told you that?" he roared. Chunks of rock fell from the sides of the cavern, crashing down around us in great heaps of splintered rock and dust.
I decided it was best to go with the truth. "Loki told us you had Brisingamen, and he was unable to come to Muspell to retrieve it."
His expression changed at once. Now the cavern shook with roaring laughter. Were dragons slightly psychotic? Or just this dragon?
"Loki told you that? Oh, my." The Nidhogg wiped golden tears from his eyes and tried to regain some semblance of control over his hilarity. "Oh, my dear Valkyrie. Loki is never to be trusted."
"Yeah, we figured that pretty much the first time we met him," Aidan said. "So why can't he come here, then? I thought all the gods could move between all the Worlds."
"Loki can too, although technically he is a Jötunn, a frost giant, supposed to be imprisoned until the Great War, but Odin has a heart that is too good. The All-Father allows Loki to roam free as long as he behaves. But it looks as if he has already begun his mischief." The dragon-man shook his head, his lip curling in disgust. "And as to why he cannot enter Muspell, it is because he tried to steal a Nidhogg treasure, and my father fortified the wall around Muspell to ensure it did not allow the god Loki to enter. I do not understand how it works, but I believe he used a hair from the trickster god's head."
I smiled. "I suspected as much. He can't enter Muspell, and he's using us to do his dirty work. What does he want with Brisingamen?"
"What he has always wanted. To gain sway over Freya. His jealousy clouds his judgment. Jealousy of power. And his ever-increasing nastiness. It used be fun. All those tricks he played on the gods and on people. Used to be funny. But something changed inside him and the funny evolved into meaner, nastier stuff. From making people laugh, he began to hurt people. It is sad, of course. But it means one needs to keep an ever-watchful eye on him."
I tightened my grip on my sword. "But we have to take Brisingamen to Freya before sunrise." Just saying those words aloud made the reality of the danger to Aidan more tangible. "How do we evade Loki and succeed when he is so determined to keep an eye on us? He's been following us everywhere."
I paused, suddenly cautious, suspicious. The dragon-man hadn't said he would help at all, hadn't even confirmed he had the necklace. Was I assuming he would help just because he was easy on the eye?