Skadi raised her chin and strode forward, hand resting on Natthrafn’s hilt. “It should be obvious as to what I’ve done.” “Even to a coward like you,” she almost added.

The crowd spread out, the body between them and her, their faces ashen with fear.

“Who are you? What are you?” demanded Snorri. “There is no way in all of Hel that a merchant’s daughter could have done this.”

Geirr, the long-legged young warrior who’d been munching an apple before stared at her in incredulity. “Are you a valkyrie?”

“A valkyrie?” Skadi thought of Hjörþrimul in all her martial glory and laughed. “Me? Hardly. But you’re right. I lied before to enter Djúprvik. I came to kill Rauðbjorn and now I aim to kill Bölvun.”

Some of the men literally hissed in fear and glanced toward the far end of town.

“Why?” Snorri sounded on the verge of tears.

“Why?” Glámr started forward. “You weren’t in the hall last night, but you must know what they do in there. The way they raised that thrall to the rafters and then dropped him, again and again till his legs broke, to his organs ruptured, the way they laughed—”

“Glámr.” Skadi stretched out her hand to forestall further words and stared at the men and women gathered before her. “If you truly do not know why Bölvun needs to die, then step forward and fight me, for you are so far gone that you must be threshed along with the rest of this rotten harvest.”

The villagers exchanged guilty glances. Snorri tore his helm from his head and rubbed furiously at his bald pate. “I know why they must die, just as I know that every child deserves a loving mother, every beggar a bowl of stew, and every warrior a seat in Valhöll—”

“Or Sessrúmnir.”

Snorri paused, confused. “Or Sessrúmnir, yes. But knowing what is right does not make it so. Bölvun is steeped in wickedness and fell power. It’s…it’s frankly a miracle of the gods that you slew Rauðbjorn, a feat I still can’t account for, but he was but a rabid dog compared to her might.”

“No matter. I have come to kill her, and with Rauðbjorn slain, there is precious little time to maneuver. But fine. I will introduce myself. I am Skadi Styrbjörnsdóttir, known as the Giant-Slayer, and come from Kráka by my uncle’s behest to cleanse this town of depravity.”

“So that he may conquer it?” asked Geirr.

“So that he need not consider it while he makes his plans.” Skadi grinned without humor. “I won’t pretend that I left Kráka with altruism in my heart, but having seen what festers in Djúprvik’s heart, I swear to you now in Freyja’s name that I would stop at nothing to kill Bölvun and end this madness even if I were whom I claimed to be before.”

The men and women muttered amongst themselves, and none dared meet her eye.

“You told me Rauðbjorn could not be killed,” said Skadi. “You cowered in his shadow. He was a fixture, a fact of life. But now look at him.”

They gazed at her dully.

“Look at him!” she barked, and they did, flinching and lowering their eyes. She strode forward and kicked the corpse in the ribs. “Here he lies, food for the worms, and he died without a weapon in his hand. His shade now walks in Hel. Kick his corpse, Snorri.”

“Ai, no, I won’t do that.”

Skadi drew Natthrafn. Its silver blade glimmered in the dawn light. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to. I commanded you to. Kick him.”

Snorri glared at her, but it was the glare of a cornered hound. He glanced nervously back toward the tannery, then at his companions. He found no solace there until Geirr stepped forward and punted a kick as hard as he could between the dead berserker’s legs. Then he spat on him.

“There.” Geirr drew his long hair back from his face. “I’ve been dreaming of doing that for longer than I care to admit. The bastard killed my father. I’ll never live down the shame of failing to avenge him.”

“You couldn’t have,” said Snorri dully. “It was not your wyrd.”

On instinct, Skadi sharpened her gaze and saw a slender thread of gold emerge from Geirr’s chest.

His first.

“You walk a new path now,” she told the young man. “And you from here on out you can act when it is right, even if doing so means your death.”

Geirr stood a little straighter.

“What are you waiting for, all of you?” Skadi searched their faces. “Have you not heard the Havamal?

A coward believes he will ever live

If he keep him safe from strife:

But old age leaves him not long in peace

Though spears may spare his life.”

The men frowned and refused to meet her gaze.

“It is not how long you live your life but how well,” she said softly. “You know this. You know this. But till this moment Bölvun and Rauðbjorn convinced you otherwise. You have chosen to live with fear and shame and guilt because you thought you had no choice, and that has been their greatest deception. But you do have a choice. Like every Northman and woman you can choose honor. You can choose glory. You can be the warrior that in your heart you yet yearn to be.”

Eyes slowly lifted.

The air felt delicate, tense, yet full of potential. The dawn was slowly lightening, imbuing color upon the world.

“It may be that we’ll die today. But just as Rauðbjorn has fallen, so may Bölvun fall. But how will you know if you fail to give this fight your all? The past is gone. Today is all. Be yourselves again. Find that fire. Find that will to glory. If it is your wyrd that you die today, then so be it. But fight the chance that it is your wyrd to die a coward, alone and cold and abandoned by those who chose battle.”

More chins lifted.

Snorri scowled, rubbed at his pate, then replaced his helm. Considered Rauðbjorn’s huge corpse, and then with sudden viciousness kicked it as hard as he could.

The body barely twitched.

“It’s you that are nothing,” hissed Snorri, and kicked the corpse again. “I hope wherever your shade now dwells you can hear me. It is you that are nothing. You beast. You filthy, disgusting beast.”

Again Snorri kicked the body, and again, and then with a cry he stomped on it and backed away with a cry. His chest was heaving, his eyes wide, and he turned on his companions. “Let’s throw the body into the water. It’ll buy us time.”

“So you’re with me?” asked Skadi.

“Aye, Skadi Giantslayer,” said Snorri, his expression grim. “You’ve held a mirror up to our weakness, and I don’t like the sight of it. It may be too late to redress the wrongs we’ve allowed to happen, but you’re right: it’s not too late to die with a weapon in hand.”

“What of her sorcery?” asked a frail old man, his left eye milky-white, his cadaverous cheeks bristled with white stubble. “She can rob certainty from the boldest heart. Can send fetches to bedevil us where we hide. How will we even face her?”

“As for that.” Skadi forced herself to sound confident. “I’m not only a slayer of giants, but also a völva. My staff is hidden here.” And she drew it forth from between the rolled-up reindeer bag.

“Oh,” murmured the crowd, their eyes going wide anew.

“You’re a völva, too?” Geirr put his hand to his brow. “Perhaps Bölvun truly has met her match.”

“You can cancel her spells?” demanded Snorri. “Save us from her fear?”

“I can but try,” said Skadi. “But let us dispose of the corpse and then retreat to plan.”

“Agreed,” said Snorri. “Come on, all of you.”

But it was Aurnir who stepped up, his expression hard. Everybody backed away. The half-giant lifted the corpse in both hands and considered the dead man’s visage, his punctured temple, his eyes bulging and askew.

“Bad man.” And he began walking toward the longest pier.

Skadi followed after, though the others remained behind at the pier’s base. The boards creaked dangerously under Aurnir and Rauðbjorn’s combined weight. One cracked, and Aurnir simply stepped down into the water, which rose to his thighs.

Skadi kept abreast of him as the half-giant waded out, the water level rapidly rising. She sharpened her vision to see if she could spot any salt hags in the water but saw nothing.

Only when the water had risen to the half-giant’s ribs did he stop. He brought the berserker around and stared into his face again.

“Bad man,” the half-giant whispered.

“Yes,” agreed Skadi. “I’m sorry you had to fight him. I’m sorry he hurt you.”

Aurnir frowned, clearly thinking, then shook his head. “Good to fight bad man.”

Skadi’s eyebrows rose. “Yes,” she agreed. “It must be done.”

Then Aurnir gripped the berserker by the neck with one hand, his waist with another, and tore off his head. For a moment Rauðbjorn’s muscles and tendons resisted, but then the head came free with a wet shredding sound.

Aurnir cupped it in his palm, steadied himself, and hurled the head as far as he could.

It turned out the half-giant could throw far.

The head spun through the air, its beard flapping, and sploshed down into the fjord.

Then Aurnir sank the corpse below the water, trapped it under his boot, and pushed it all the way down. There he pressed, forcing a mass of bubbles to erupt from the corpse’s chest, and continued to press until at last, he backed away.

Skadi watched, unsure as to what to say.

Aurnir pointed down with one huge finger. “Body stay.”

“Yes,” agreed Skadi. “Body stay.”

The half-giant turned and returned to the shore, washing his hands as he did so and then splashing his face.

“Damn,” whispered Skadi, turning to sight at the distant spot where the head had fallen. She had to be careful. Aurnir might be simple, but he was no child. She’d sensed as much when she’d pushed him to fight the night before, but she had to remember that moving forward.

They returned to the docks. The others gaped at Aurnir, who returned their gazes lugubriously.

“We have some time,” said Snorri. “The warriors in the great hall won’t stir for hours, and Bölvun rarely emerges from her house by day. That said, she’s prone to noticing when there’s trouble. We can’t count on the spirits not warning her of Rauðbjorn’s death.”

“Then perhaps we strike at her while she sleeps,” said Glámr. “We are a decent-sized crowd. We creep to her home now, slip inside, and overwhelm her.”

Skadi wanted to delay. To buy time. To think, to plan. The fordæða had over thirty threads. Skadi sharpened her vision: her eighteen had returned to her. But how? When she’d awoken she’d had but the five.

Then she gazed around the crowd that stood with her and Snorri. Thought on how Kvedulf’s oath had fortified his own wyrd. Had she regained hers by convincing these people to fight?

That had to be it.

No matter, she’d not argue with this bounty.

Eighteen threads were still insufficient to fending off the fordæða’s magic, however. They had to weaken her first.

“We don’t simply walk in the door,” said Skadi. “We must force her to expend her energies defending herself. Test her wyrd to its extreme before meeting her in battle.”

“All right,” said Snorri with forced calm. “And how do we go about doing that?”

“Let’s take a look at her home first. Once I know the layout perhaps we’ll devise a plan.”

“What, all of us?” asked Snorri.

“No, just Glámr and I. We’ll reconnoiter and then meet you all somewhere safe. Where would it be best for you to wait?”

Snorri bit his lower lip, considered the others. “The smithy, most like. Close to the Raven’s Gate. Big enough for your friend here.”

“Very well. We’ll meet you there. Anything we should know about Bölvun’s home before we set out?”

Geirr scowled. “Just that it’s a well of horrors and she the worst part of it. She has command of the spirits. They’ll awaken her if you go too close.”

“All right. We’ll observe from a distance. Keep quiet, everybody, and don’t arouse any attention. We’ll be with you all in the smithy shortly.”

“Aurnir come,” said the half-giant unhappily.

“Best not, old friend,” said Glámr. “You’re big and loud and can be spotted a mile away. You stay with Damian. He’s going to heal your face remember?”

“Heal face?” asked the half-giant, turning to the priest.

“With the sun’s blessing, yes. Come on. We’ll wait for them at the smithy.”

Aurnir accepted Glámr and Skadi’s packs, and then followed Damian as he and Snorri took a circuitous path through the village toward the distant gate.

“Well,” said Glámr, rubbing his hands together briskly. “Nothing I prefer more than to skulk around a fordæða’s spirit-protected cottage first thing in the morning. I don’t regret becoming your friend at all.”

“Not what you were saying the other day,” grinned Skadi.

“I was but a fool then, and time has shown me the error of my ways. Grown, I am now wise, and do most heartily regret this mission.” Glámr sighed dramatically. “But seeing as it’s too late to escape now, we may as well see what terrors the witch has awaiting us.”

“That’s the spirit. What’s the worst that can happen?”

The half-troll rolled his eyes. “Never say that. Never say that.”

Skadi grinned. “Quit your grousing. We’ve a fordæða to kill.”

And so saying, she led him along the docks and then into the village proper.