They re-entered the main temple chamber. Glámr sat uneasily by the entrance to the passageway leading out to the night; he turned a cup about endlessly in both hands, not drinking.

“Bad dreams?” he asked.

“No.” Skadi considered. “Not bad. Just… overwhelming.” And she sat and told them both of her vision, of the vast hall and the Valkyrie, Hjörþrimul.

Ásfríðr moved to stand before the statue of Freyja, where she raised her arms and intoned a prayer under her breath. When she was done her shoulders slumped and she turned back to them both.

“You are marked for greatness, Skadi Styrbjörnsdóttir, but this we already knew. Now it seems that your favor has made enemies amongst the ranks of those loyal to the Honorable Lady. You will walk a narrow path between glory and perdition.”

“I don’t want glory.” Skadi sat and interlaced her fingers tightly between her knees. “I want to save my mother, find my father, and avenge my brother.”

“You will have the ability to do so in time. But as of yet your wyrd is insufficient to the task.” Ásfríðr moved to the altar of candles and took up a taper with which she re-lit those who had burned out. “You must earn your jarl’s blessings before you may venture forth.”

“How?”

“I am a völva, not a member of his hird. The ways of warriors are for you to learn in his great hall.”

Glámr set his cup aside. “You believe in truth that Kvedulf will ever gift Skadi a longship and crew? I have been here but a day, and already I have learned of the troubles that beset him.”

“Troubles?” asked Skadi.

“On all sides.” Glámr’s smile was dark. “Your uncle warred with Hake last year, and defeated them in three battles. They now foster their jarl’s peaceweaver in Kráka, and have promised to send tithes.”

“He has shown strength,” said Skadi. “What is the problem?”

“The problem,” said Ásfríðr, picking up the thread, “is that the jarls of Djúprvik and Kaldrborg, both farther north up the coast, do not wish Kvedulf to grow powerful. They fled here to escape Harald.”

“So they war with him?”

“Not yet,” said Ásfríðr. “But this summer it is expected that there shall be battle and blood.”

“Can my uncle defeat them both?”

“His wyrd is strong. Time will tell.”

“But there is more,” continued Glámr. “The Draugr Coast is well named. I heard mutterings down by the docks about troubles from the peaks. Raids under the cover of dark, murders and disappearances.”

“You heard true.” Again Ásfríðr smiled wryly. “The greater ones wyrd, the more it is beset. When Kvedulf was young he attracted the eye of a jotunn named Grýla who resides high in the mountains in a palace carved out of the living stone. She courted him, tried to seduce him, but Kvedulf rebuffed her. She swore vengeance for her wounded pride, and ever since has sought to destroy Kráka. Each winter she sends raids and attacks the palisade, and all throughout the year the nights are perilous with troll folk and their curses.”

“But you are out here alone,” said Skadi, surprised. “Aren’t you in danger?”

The völva’s smile grew sinister. “I am not without my defenses.”

“But my question remains,” said Glámr. “With war brewing with two neighboring jarls and a jotunn queen seeking to destroy this town, what prospect has Skadi of commandeering a longship?”

“Even if it’s the one I brought myself,” muttered Skadi bitterly.

“Only her wyrd can say. But I will tell you this: her path leads to glory. If she grows strong, if she earns honor, if she becomes respected amongst the jarl’s hird, then he will grow ever less able to deny her. You must overwhelm him with your prowess and growing legend, Skadi. Make it so that to deny your demands will cost him too dearly.”

“Yes, but how?” Skadi’s frustration seized her by the throat. “My mother is no doubt already landed in Mávri Aktí. My brother’s body is ten days unburied. My father - who knows how long it will take him to hear that I am in Kráka?”

“I hear your concerns, and most importantly, so does Freyja. I can offer no guidance but this: trust in your wyrd, nurture it, blow on it as if it were a coal amongst kindling. Coax it to flame, and then make of this world your bonfire.”

Skadi shivered. “Very well. My thanks, völva.”

Ásfríðr inclined her head. “I am honored to have one so blessed in my temple. Return often, Skadi. I will be watching your progress with interest.”

Skadi thought then of Hjörþrimul’s gaze, livid and otherworldly, and repressed a shiver.

“Well then,” said Glámr, rising to his feet and slapping his thighs. “Shall we return to Kráka?”

“Would it not be wiser to spend the night?”

“You are welcome to,” said Ásfríðr.

“I’d rather not.” Glámr grimaced. “Aurnir is restless and easily upset, and my kind do not enjoy such close proximity to the holy places of the Vanir. You stay, Skadi. I will return by myself.”

Skadi studied the half-troll, but knew him well enough by now not to press him with questions.

It was Ásfríðr who replied. “Do not be so hasty to choose solitude, Glámr. You have one foot in the world of shadow, but the other thrust firmly in the sun. Which side you nurture will grow, but I sense the bond between you and Skadi. Do not be so quick to discard it.”

Glámr frowned.

“Let’s go,” said Skadi. “I don’t want Aurnir to grow worried.”

The völva followed them to the temple’s main door. “Return often, Skadi.”

“I will. Thank you, Ásfríðr. I appreciate your wisdom and guidance.”

Skadi bowed then, and the völva dipped her head, so that her antlers swayed in the gloom.

Together, shoulder to shoulder, Skadi walked away from the temple with Glámr, and began the descent to distant Kráka.

* * *

To Skadi’s surprise, the crew of her ship were awake and awaiting her return. She entered the musty storehouse that had been given to them to see Damian, Kofri, Ulfarr, and Begga seated around a small fire they’d improvised with a ring of stones and dried logs, while Aurnir sat in one corner, rocking slowly until he saw her and let out a pleased cry.

“What are you all doing up?” asked Skadi, peeling off her reindeer mittens. “You must all be exhausted.”

The firelight lit their features from below, making the darkness that drowned the rest of the storeroom all the more intense.

“How could we bed down without knowing if our Skadi were returning to us?” demanded Begga crossly. “Do you think so little of us that we’d sleep without knowing you safe?”

Solemn nods from the others.

“Well, you have my thanks, but it wasn’t necessary.” She moved around to pat Aurnir’s shoulder, who rumbled with pleasure, then joined the others at the fire. “You must all be exhausted.”

“Aye, we’re tired enough,” allowed Ulfarr, putting a long-stepped pipe to his lips. “But we’re all that’s left of Kalbaek.”

“Biolfr? Ywan and Young Kylfa?”

“Taken by your uncle’s men as slaves,” said Damian softly. “They pretended to ask, but it was obviously a formality.”

“Their fates were sealed when they surrendered to us,” said Kofri, stroking his thick white beard. “Kráka has need of strong hands. They’ll not be idle.”

Skadi nodded then put the three men from her mind. “My uncle has given us all guest right, though this isn’t quite how I imagined it would look.”

“Shameful,” sniffed Begga. “Putting you up in an old ruin like this.”

“He did offer to let me stay with his wife and her women,” said Skadi. “It was I who refused.”

Begga’s brows rose. “You did? Why ever for?”

“I wish to be a shieldmaiden.” Skadi made sure her tone was firm. “I wish to rescue my mother. To find my father and avenge my brother.” It was beginning to sound like a mantra.

Nods all around.

“I’m still a stranger to these parts,” said Damian cautiously. His tawny skin seemed ruddy in the firelight, his once neatly trimmed beard already bushier. “But it seems to me that those tasks requires substantial help from your uncle.”

“Which I will earn.” Skadi stared into the fire. “The völva confirmed that I walk with the blessings of Freyja.”

Again there were nods; nobody seemed the least surprised.

“So I will train and make myself useful to my uncle. I will learn weaponcraft and help tilt the balance of the various troubles that beset him. And then, hopefully sooner than later, I will demand that he outfit me with a ship and a full complement of men - or hire them myself - and then set sail to bring justice to the fallen.”

Kofri, Ulfarr, and Begga exchanged worried glances.

Damian, however, stared at her intently over the leaping flames, his golden eyes reflective like those of a cat. “I believe you shall accomplish this, Skadi. It can’t be a coincidence that my god blessed me with the power of miracles after we set forth on this journey. I was laughed at in Kalbaek for refusing to defend my honor, as your people saw it, and wield weapons. Well, I have something to fight for, and I believe my god will bless my heresy.”

“Gods are rarely fond of heresy,” said Ulfarr calmly.

“Then he shall refuse to grant me the power to wield miracles, and I will be as before.” Damian sat up straighter. “But something has quickened. I can sense it. I have seen you work miracles with my own eyes, Skadi Styrbjörnsdóttir. And thus I will fight by your side, poor as my aid may be, and help you achieve your quests.”

“Aurnir,” rumbled the half-giant, and tapped his great, stubby fingers against his huge chest.

“You will help me too, my friend?” asked Skadi, smiling at the half-giant.

To which Aurnir nodded jerkily, his cracked lips breaking into a broad smile.

“I, too, will take up my axe once more,” said Kofri, puffing out his chest. “It has been more than fifteen years since I swing a weapon in battle, but I daresay these old hands haven’t forgotten how.”

Begga scowled. “And get yourself killed? Don’t be a fool, Kofri. You’re an old man with one foot in Hel. Pretend otherwise and you’ll be nothing but a burden to Skadi.”

Kofri puffed, indignant.

“What she’ll be needing,” said Ulfarr with one eye closed and pointing at her with the stem of his pipe, “is friends to stay in Kráka and learn what others are saying. Friends to turn this old storehouse into something worthy of a jarl’s daughter. Friends to whom she can return after her adventures and find a place of refuge.”

“That’s right,” said Begga. “I’m envisioning a kitchen board against that table. We can tear down all that old shelving and make bedframes from them. We’ll need to purchase hay, rope, and get a grain chest. Cups and bowls. A dozen brooms, no doubt, as well as a good amount of firewood. Pots. Knives. Blankets. That you can help with, Kofri Tokison, not pretending you are or ever were the Bonebreaker.”

“I was!” Kofri stood. “Jarl Trausti named me that, after the Battle of Aslaug! He -”

“Oh, pish,” said Begga, turning away and waving a hand. “As if it’s not been my misfortune to known you my whole life. Save your posturing for someone else.”

Kofri subsided, grumbling and chewing on his mustache.

“Glámr?” Skadi watched the half-troll who’d remained by the door.

“Hmm?” He pretended not to understand. But she waited, and finally he scowled. “It’s not as if I am spoiled with options, is it?”

“You could take to the hills,” said Ulfarr with his same unflappable calm.

“To weasel my way in amongst the troll folk?” Glámr laughed, the sound ugly. “They’d kill me before I could get in a word. No. My kind are an assault to their sensibilities. I’d rather take my luck swimming with the mermaids.”

“Pretty,” said Aurnir, his tone dreamy, and Skadi realized he must have seen them, too.

“Thank you,” said Skadi, then turned to take them all in. “All of you. I know it seems a dream right now, to earn the right to command a longship and sail after my father, but my brother will be avenged. I’ll find Patroclus and cut his head from his shoulders with my slaughter seax. This I vow in Freyja’s name - may she and all her Valkyries be my witnesses!”

The air shivered with the potency of her oath, and Begga and Kofri turned pale.

“But first I must learn to wield a sword.” Skadi sighed and her shoulders slumped. “I cannot expect my fortune and wyrd to win me every battle. I must learn to defeat my foes through strength of arms.”

“Which, quite literally, you distinctly lack,” said Glámr. He stepped over and encircled her bicep with his long, black-nailed thumb and forefinger. “You possess a lean, otter-strength, but if you wish to carry a shield for more than a few minutes you’ll need to do much to improve your stamina and power.”

Skadi snatched her arm away irritably. “I know it. But I will do what I must. Come tomorrow I will speak with Marbjörn and ask that he help me train.”

“And I,” said Damian.

“Aurnir,” rumbled the half-giant.

Glámr sighed deeply. “Glámr. Is that how this works? Though I’ll wager they use me for target practice and little else.”

“We’ll see.” Skadi looked around the circle of fire-lit faces. “We are starting something here. A hird of our own. I vow to you that I’ll watch out for you all as a jarl does his people. I may be but a jarl’s daughter, but you are all that remains of Kalbaek, and I’ll not let that number diminish.”

“Fair words,” said Ulfarr. “I’ll work for you as best I can.”

“And I,” said Begga stoutly. “I may be old, and my hands pain me in winter, but I will do my best to turn this rat-house into a home fit for you, my lady.”

“And I suppose I’ll fetch firewood,” said Kofri. “If Begga allows me to.”

“Oh, quit your grousing.”

“Good. Then we should get some sleep. Tomorrow we must learn how we are to fit into this new town, and what roles we are to play here. But for now? A good night’s sleep. It’s well deserved.”

The others muttered their agreement, and one by one turned to the rough blankets they’d been given, lying about the fire which had burned down to embers.

Glámr remained seated by the coals.

“Won’t you sleep?” asked Skadi, bedding down beside Aurnir.

“Not for a while yet. We’ll freeze if the fire dies down. That, and I’ve a mind to watch our door. There are those here who don’t relish our company.”

Skadi considered, then held out Natthrafn. “You wielded it once before. It’ll serve you in good stead tonight.”

The half-troll considered the blade, then shook his head. “The seax is yours, Skadi. If ought comes through that door, I’ll rouse Aurnir and let him do all the work for me.”

“Very well.” Skadi lay back down. The others were already snoring softly. “Thank you, Glámr.”

“I can’t imagine what for.” He turned his back to her and hunched over. “Go to sleep, jarl’s daughter.”

She lay still, watching him for a bit, and then closed her eyes.