Bölvun went down with a muffled cry, slamming into the ground with such violence that she bounced.

Aurnir glared at where she lay. “Bad lady.”

And like that, the fear was gone. It felt as if a massive vice had released her, and with a gasp, Skadi fell back onto her ass. She sat there, stunned, as she watched the fordæða crawl toward her front door.

“Stop her,” Skadi croaked. “Aurnir. Stop her.”

With oddly careful precision, the half-giant placed his foot on Bölvun’s back.

Glámr and Damian arose from where they’d fallen into frozen crouches. All of Snorri’s companions had fled.

Skadi sharpened her vision. Only Aurnir and Snorri retained their wyrd. With effort Skadi rose and limped over; she’d tensed so hard while terrified that she’d pulled a muscle in her leg.

Bölvun’s crown had been knocked clear off and lay broken amidst splinters and shattered wood. She was trying to reach it, clawing feebly at the ground but going nowhere. The back of her head was a mass of pulpy, bloody hair.

“Must… must reach… must find a way to… into the earth, dark-swimming, root-burrowing…”

They gathered about her and for a moment just watched as she scrabbled.

“Aurnir squish?”

Almost, Skadi said yes. But then she looked sidelong at Snorri. “You’ve accepted too much evil into your life and home because of her. It should be your blade that ends her life. A Djúprvik blade.”

“I’ve not earned it,” said Snorri bitterly.

“He hasn’t,” agreed Glámr.

“That’s not the point. You were led astray by your desire to protect. And those you sheltered will need a leader when we leave if Djúprvik is to survive.”

“What of Jarl Blakkr?” asked Damian.

“Leave the jarl to me. Strike, Snorri. End her misery.”

Snorri drew his blade and scowled down at the fordæða.

“In the earth, we shall dance, cheek to cheek where the worms do prance,” sang Bölvun in a high-pitched, scratchy voice. “And I shall be loved, and I shall be loved…”

Snorri’s face twisted into bitter resolve and he cleaved off her head.

“It is done,” said Skadi. “Djúprvik is freed.”

“You need to burn this,” said Glámr, staring at Snorri. “Her home, the tannery, and you might as well cut down that oak while you are at it.”

“Aye,” agreed Snorri, staggering back as he looked wide-eyed at the corpse.

“But first.” Skadi shoved her völva staff into her belt. “Follow me, and when the time comes, take control.” And she led them back to the great hall. Ignored the fearful stares, the shutters which rapidly closed, the figures which backed into shadows. Strode up to the longhouse’s front doors and nodded to Aurnir. “Throw these open.”

The half-giant clasped the great handles and wrenched them open with all his strength. They swung out violently and crashed against the walls, allowing sunlight to stream into the hall.

“Wake up!” shouted Skadi as she strode inside. “Wake up, all of you! A new day is dawned!”

Men stirred and grumbled, lifted their heads from tables or the floor to peer blearily at her.

“Shut your mouth, woman,” shouted one. “Or I’ll come shut it for you.”

“Bölvun is dead,” continued Skadi, moving into the center of the hall. The air here only smelled good in comparison to the tannery. “Rauðbjorn is dead. The time of darkness and blood is finished.”

This got attention. Men stood, gaped, and looked at each other for confirmation.

Snorri stepped up alongside her. “It’s true. The blood on this blade belonged to her. The witch rules us no longer.”

The silence that followed was stunned. Warriors, faces pallid, eyes bloodshot, gaped at the blade, then at Snorri.

“I see no reason that things should change,” said one warrior, the weaselly-faced man who’d met them at the gate. “Unless Jarl Blakkr wishes us to?”

All eyes turned to the jarl who had been listening with obvious shock. Skadi stared at the old man. This was his one chance.

Blakkr hesitated, blinked his rheumy eyes, then turned away to press his withered cheek against the chairback. His threads all withered and died away.

“As I thought,” said the weaselly man with pleasure. “I quite like how things have been going. Been fun. We drink, we hump, we laugh, we sleep. Why ruin it, right, Jarl?”

Snorri began to deflate.

Skadi hefted Thyrnir then threw it. Though it flew down the length of the hall to sink deep into Blakkr’s chest. The jarl gasped, clutched at Thyrnir, but did not draw it out. After a moment it seemed to Skadi that he smiled, and then bowed his head and died.

“It seems you are without a jarl,” said Skadi apologetically. “Alas.”

The warriors stared in fresh shock at the dead jarl, then at the weaselly man, who visibly gulped and smoothed back his greasy hair. “Then I nominate myself to replace him.”

A murmur of agreement sounded from the ranks.

Skadi kept her mouth shut and turned instead with an eyebrow raised to Snorri.

Who met her gaze, inhaled deeply, then nodded. “Then you must fight me to the death for it, Raggi. I challenge you to a holmgang. Let it be fought now, here.”

Raggi blinked then looked to his companions for support. Hard expressions were all he found.

“You, Snorri? Holmgang?” Raggi laughed uneasily. “Since when are you willing to stand up for anything?”

“Starting now, I suppose,” said Snorri softly. “Better late than never. So, Raggi. Who will be your second?”

Raggi glanced around again. “I, ah, may have been overhasty there. If you feel so strongly about it, and want the work, it’s yours.”

Snorri nodded slowly. “Wise words at last. I want this hall stripped. Everything that can be carried out is to be dragged to the clearing before the oak tree.”

“What for?” asked a burly warrior.

“Because we have much to burn,” said Snorri softly. “Bölvun, Blakkr, and every body that hangs from the great oak. Raggi, choose six men to go with you to the tannery and burn everything there that you find. Including what’s in the vats.”

Raggi paled.

“At your command, Jarl,” said Geirr, and moved to the closest table. “Who’s going to help me with this?”

“Aurnir help,” said the half-giant happily.

“Get to it, all of you,” barked Snorri, the sudden command in his voice causing several men to flinch. “Skadi, outside?”

They left the warriors to get on with it and took the side door to emerge away from the oak into the morning sunshine.

“I can’t believe it,” said Snorri. “How quickly the world can change. You arrived just yesterday morning a frightened girl, and now you stand beside me with your true nature revealed: a fearless shieldmaiden.”

Skadi smiled. “How does it feel, Snorri, to be yourself again?”

“I don’t even know who I used to be. It’s been so long. But now… now I will mark a new beginning. First, we shall cleanse the village of the rot with fire. Then we shall cleanse the hird. Then we shall take stock and see where we stand.”

“A good plan. The people will see the fire and that will do more to convince them than any speech.”

“Aye. And you? Have you accomplished what you came here to do?”

“Depends. Will you contest these waters with Jarl Kvedulf?”

“Will you sail by his side?”

“For now I am of Kráka.”

“Then for now Jarl Kvedulf shall have no trouble from Djúprvik. We have much to heal. One day, perhaps, we shall think of what lies outside our fjord once more.”

Skadi inclined her head gratefully.

Snorri searched her face. “I don’t know how you did it, Skadi. How you slew Rauðbjorn and found the means to defeat Bölvun. You are blessed by the gods.”

“Spear to the temple, bucket of piss to the roof. That’s all it took.”

Snorri laughed and stroked his mustache. “A pity I didn’t think of it myself, then, if it was that simple.”

“You’ll need no prompting next time,” said Skadi.

“No, I won’t. Nor will I forget what you did for Djúprvik. If ever you have need, don’t forget you have a friend in Snorri the Bald.”

“Jarl Snorri, you mean.”

“Jarl Snorri.” He snorted. “If only my father were alive to see me now. Will you be staying? I’d honor you if so.”

“No, I think it best we leave. You and yours will heal better without strangers in your midst. That, and I wish to get home.”

“Very well.” And he smiled tightly.

Skadi clapped him on the arm. “Don’t worry, Jarl. The worst is behind you. Take my advice: place your bloody blade where all can see it, and leave it there for a few days. It will help the others remember what you did.”

Snorri considered and then nodded sharply. “Good advice. Speaking of which, I have an urge to partake in the cleansing. Excuse me, Skadi.”

“Of course, Jarl Blakkr.”

The older man rubbed his bald pate as he entered the longhouse, but to Skadi’s sharpened eye he stood straighter than before, and two new threads emerged from his breast.

Skadi sighed and rubbed her eyes. They’d done it. Somehow. Their venture had seemed doomed ever since they’d stepped into the village, but that monster Rauðbjorn was dead and sunken in the bay and Bölvun decapitated.

She heard again the fordæða’s broken song, saw in her mind’s eye the bright inquisitive gleam of her stare. How broken could a person become? Almost she felt sorry for the other woman, for the horrors she had suffered. What manner of being had come to her while she’d been buried in the dirt? What had it done to her, what bargain had it struck, what had it demanded in exchange for its help?

Skadi thought of the racks within the tannery and was glad she’d never know.

Curious, she sharpened her gaze and counted her threads: nineteen.

Huh. She’d only gained one for cleansing Djúprvik? Such a feat would have earned her a handful back when she first left Kalbaek. Was the rate at which she was gaining them slowing? Or did it take ever greater deeds to earn what before had been considered impressive?

Skadi pursed her lips. Having escaped slavery, felled Kagssok, and helped slay Grýla, it seemed the norns were growing harder to impress.

Which made her uncle’s wealth of threads all the more worthy of respect in turn.

Glámr and Damian emerged from the longhouse and approached.

“Let’s never do this again,” said Glámr sourly.

“Agreed,” said Damian. “I’m a grown man and I’m going to have nightmares for months.”

“You never even entered the tannery,” scoffed Glámr. “You have nothing to complain about.”

“For which I am most glad. I knew evil existed in the world, but this makes Grýla look positively benign.”

“Regardless,” said Skadi. “It is done, and we have Snorri’s friendship.”

“For however much that’s worth,” said Glámr. “They’re going to be making new tables and benches and bowls for the foreseeable future.”

“Good. They need to scour this place of all taint. It will take them a lot of work. As for us, we’ve done what we set out to do. It’s time to go home.”

They heard a crash from inside, then happy laughter.

“Give Aurnir an hour or two,” said Damian. “It’s so rare that he’s given permission to break furniture on purpose.”

Skadi smiled. “Very well. But I want our next meal to be had in the fresh air of the mountains.”

“Deal,” smiled Damian, his gold eyes gleaming. “And now I wish to praise the Sun for allowing us to bring light to this dark place.”

“It was Aurnir’s barrels of piss that did that, not your sun god,” said Glámr.

To which Damian shook his head and strode off with a condescending smile.

“Looks like we did it,” said Glámr.

“Told you my plan would work.”

“A truly terrible plan. I still don’t understand how you bested the berserker.”

Skadi shuddered. “I’d rather not think about it. Not today, but perhaps someday soon I’m going to want to celebrate.”

“Yes. With lye and a pumice stone.”

“Fair.” Skadi punched his shoulder. “Let’s go make sure Aurnir doesn’t get in trouble.”

“After he helped defeat the fordæða with barrels of piss? Skadi, he’s become every man’s hero. He can do no wrong.”

“I’m sure he can.” Skadi slung an arm over Glámr’s shoulders. “Come on. We’ve earned the right to rest for a few hours.”

“Rest,” scoffed the half-troll. “Since we were thrown together I’ve not known the meaning of the word.”

“All you need do is tell me where you got Natthrafn from and I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

“Ha. I already told you. Thirty kids and a mule farm. Your future is glorious.”

To which Skadi could only respond by jabbing him in the side so that he yelped and leaped and then fled before her as she gave chase, laughing for the first time in what felt like forever.