They sat in silence for a spell, Skadi’s words and the need for her to make a decision seeming to hang in the air between them.

“Out of respect for the dead,” said Astrilda at last, “may I put my companion’s bodies to rest?”

Skadi shifted uneasily. “Good idea.”

Astrilda stood and, with slow, careful movements, dragged Dálkr through a winding gap between the boulders. Skadi followed, intuiting that Astrilda wouldn’t run, but not wishing to tempt the woman’s wyrd, either. The other shieldmaiden circled the boulders until she found Náttfari and dragged her beside her brother, where she crossed their arms over their chests.

“There,” she said, straightening up. Outside of the boulder fort, she was more visible. “Shall we return?”

Skadi followed the other woman back into the hideout, feeling as if she’d somehow lost the initiative. When they reached the center, Astrilda turned to regard her in the deeper gloom. “What do you wish me to do now? Entertain you? A song and dance?”

“Let’s begin with a fire,” said Skadi. “Seeing as we’re no longer evading pursuit.”

“And seeing as how I’m sure the pair of us can deal with bandits, sure. Sit, my lady. I shall prepare your camp.”

Uneasy with Astrilda’s tone, provoked but not knowing how to respond, Skadi sat with her back to the wall, close to the other woman’s axe and knife so that they’d not come within tempting reach.

Astrilda was clearly comfortable in the wild. She scrounged what twigs and pine cones lay within the enclosure, then twisted about in her crouch to regard Skadi. “We’ve not enough fuel here to light more than a candle’s worth of flame. If I give you my word that I’ll not run off into the night, will you trust me to collect branches and return?”

Again with the mocking, playful tone, as if daring Skadi to react severely, stiffly.

“I… trust you.” Skadi felt hesitation grip her by the throat. Was she mad? An hour ago this woman had been intent on delivering her to Afastr. But the madness was compulsive; she felt dared to the risk by Astrilda, as if it were a question of bravery, of elan, and felt compelled to prove she wasn’t a scared rabbit. “Go, Astrilda. Fetch me my firewood.”

The shadowed shape inclined its head, or seemed to. “As my lady commands.”

And slipped out between the boulders.

Skadi’s heart pounded as she listened. She half-expected the rapid pad of fleeing feet through the forest, but instead, she heard the occasional rustle of branches being pulled free of the earth and bushes.

When Astrilda returned, arms laden with branches, Skadi sank back against the rocks. She felt alarmed, as if she were in greater danger now, somehow, for having won this victory over Astrilda. If victory it was.

The other woman built the fire, then dug flint and steel from her pocket with which to light it. Sparks flew. It took some coaxing for her to kindle small licks of flame from the dried moss and leaves, but these rapidly spread to consume the slender twigs, then the branches as thick as a finger, and finally those as thick as an arm.

Astrilda finally moved to sit across the fire from Skadi, arms looped around her knees, chin lowered, revealed by the firelight, her eyes gleaming, the corner of her lips curled into a smile.

“What’s so amusing?” demanded Skadi.

“This entire situation. I had the chance to swing a flaming branch at you, wield it as a club. Did you notice my grip linger at its base? But then I released it and relinquished the chance to surprise you.”

Skadi felt terribly young before the older woman’s amusement. “Why did you?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps because I, too, want to see where this night goes. Also, perhaps, because I saw how you killed each of my comrades by hurling your spear through their left eye. In near-perfect darkness. Makes swinging a burning branch at you a little less tempting.”

Skadi didn’t answer.

“Are you beholden to Odin, then?” asked Astrilda.

“Odin?”

“Your preference for the left eye. Is that not one of the All-Father’s trademarks?”

Skadi hadn’t put that together, and felt a fool for it. “No. I go to Freyja for her blessings. You?”

“I need look no further than my—than Afastr.”

“That’s the second time you’ve hesitated in referring to him. Why is that?”

“You’re overthinking it.”

“Is he more than your jarl? Is he… your lover? Your husband?”

“My husband?” Astrilda sounded horrified and delighted both. “What an—no. A thousand times no. By the gods, you’re going to make me throw up dinner.”

Skadi frowned. “Is he your god?”

All scandalized hilarity vanished from the other woman’s face. “No. Not literally. But he dominated life in Kaldrborg enough that it’s not far from the truth.”

Skadi leaned forward. “Be honest with me, Astrilda. I know he’s more than he seems. Far older, for one, but also a bewildering liar; I know that his story of a prophecy is a lie. Our völva confirmed that for me. But what manner of man would tell such a falsehood, and tempt the norns with his heresy?”

Astrilda looked away. “It’s not heresy to lie. Just base mendacity.”

“Yet he has your loyalty. I still don’t understand why. You’re a powerful, confident, dangerous woman. You say you’re trapped, but I don’t see it. You could travel anywhere. Why not flee him if he’s this…” Skadi searched for a word. “Monstrous?”

Astrilda’s shoulders slumped slightly, and she kept her gaze on the ground. “Tell me, Skadi, why do you think Afastr sits in Kaldrborg, at the very edge of the known world? He’s powerful enough that he could challenge King Harald for his kingdom and take it. But he never stirs from Kaldrborg except when he’s searching for a wife.”

“Searching for a wife? He does this often?”

Astrilda looked up, gaze glittering. “Answer the question.”

“Because… because that’s his home. Because… I don’t know. We all have to live somewhere.”

“Do you know what lies north of Kaldrborg?”

Skadi hesitated. “Nothing? The northern wastes?”

“Niflheim.”

Skadi’s lips twisted in derision, but then she paused. “You’re serious?”

“You were not told the tale of how our world was made?”

“Yes, but…” Skadi trailed off. “I thought… we all thought it was, I don’t know, down between the roots of Yggdrasil. Is Midgard not surrounded by a ring of ocean water whose perimeter is guarded by Jörmungandr?”

Astrilda sighed. “Yes, I suppose. But our world is not as it seems. You can walk from Kráka to Kaldrborg, and if you repeat the trip it remains the same. But not all of the world follows the same rules. I have heard tell how Niflheim lies between the roots of Yggdrasil, and there the goddess Hel rules over those who died of sickness, or old age, and so forth. But it also lies north of us, beyond Kaldrborg, beyond a great plain of snow and ice.” She leaned forward suddenly. “Look—why is this entire coast called the Draugr Coast?”

Skadi frowned. “Because it is a wild and savage place?”

“Then why is it not called the Wild Coast? Or Savage Coast? Instead, it’s called the Draugr Coast. But have you seen any of the again-walkers?”

Mystified and feeling lost, Skadi could only shake her head.

“This Afastr has told me: centuries ago, the Age of Dreams ended in a great period of darkness. The old Palió Oneiro empire collapsed as the darkness of winter swallowed the summer sun, and for years on end, there was nothing but night. The moon and stars were hidden, he said, and everywhere grew cold. Crops failed. Trees died. Animals starved.” Her voice took on an incantatory tone:

“Brother kills brother,

Sons betray their kin:

Axe-age, sword-age,

Wind-age, wolf-age.”

“I know that,” whispered Skadi. “That’s from the great poem the Voluspa. The part about Ragnarok.”

“Afastr tells me Ragnarok was inspired as a second coming of those dark years. The time of darkness which saw tribe turn against tribe, armies battle each other in a fever till all died. And during those years of darkness, the again-walkers spilled forth from Niflheim, flooding down into the North.”

Skadi sat back. “The dead escaped Niflheim?”

“The world as we know it almost ended, but he says the gods rallied their chosen and did battle against the Draugr, driving them back into the northern wastes, but for years, decades, this coast was haunted by them. The sun returned, and slowly every last pocket was cleansed, and then did the centuries pass, with memory of those times fading and becoming our myths and legends, till now nothing remains but the name of the curse that once ruled this land.”

Skadi shook her head. “But… I’ve never heard of this.”

“You have, but it has been recast as the tale of Ragnarok. It is also why we Northmen are as we are. Why we value loyalty and honor above all things. Why we are so different from those of the South. We may not remember the dark years, but the consequences of that wretched time are carved into our bones, our traditions, our very sense of self. It’s in our knowledge of Ragnarok, when the Draugr will again spill forth from Niflheim and destroy the world.”

Skadi could only stare.

“The reason I tell you this dark tale is simple. Afastr lives in Kaldrborg because he guards against that day, and ensures that while he watches, it shall not come to pass. His patron is Heimdall, who guards the Bifrost. He watches the North, and whenever he senses weakness he journeys forth and destroys that which escapes from Niflheim, safeguarding the rest of us from the real monsters of Hel.”

Skadi’s throat was dry, but she forced herself to swallow. “That is… that is quite the tale. But I can’t simply take your word for it. I have already seen how Afastr lied to me. How do you know he didn’t lie to you as well?”

Astrilda smiled wearily. “You have not been to Kaldrborg. You have not journeyed north into the wastes. You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen. But there’s more. How old did you guess my—did you guess Afastr to be?”

Certainty hit Skadi like a fist. “He’s your father?”

Astrilda took a deep, ragged breath and sat up straighter. “Not only mine. You recall Aldulfr? He sat at the table with you and I, during that feast?”

“The monstrously strong old man?” Skadi stared. “He’s also Afastr’s son? But he’s…”

“Fifty-five. And he’s told me that he doesn’t know when Afastr was born, that he’s always appeared thus. That he had older siblings who have since passed who told the same tale.”

Skadi tried to understand. “But… that would make him… a hundred years old? What? Older?”

Astrilda shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“And your mother? Aldulfr’s?”

“Gone,” whispered Astrilda. “They never survive long after the birth of a child.”

Skadi rose to her feet in a panic. “Wait. He kills them? He was going to rape me, force me to give birth to a child, then kill me? And you knew this?”

Astrilda stared stonily at the ground.

“How could you take me to him?” Skadi felt wretched, horrified, and somehow betrayed.

“It’s as I said. You weren’t born and raised in Kaldrborg. It’s a world unto itself, and Afastr is akin to its private god. One doesn’t question him. His word is law.”

Skadi crouched, Thyrnir held between her knees. Intuition made her sharpen her gaze, and she saw one thread after another extinguish itself from Astrilda’s chest. One by one they went dark until all were gone.

Skadi stared: what did that mean? That the norns were withdrawing their favor? That Astrilda’s guilt and horror had severed her own wyrd?

That the gods would not protest if she killed Astrilda now?

“Answer one question,” Skadi whispered. “Please. With no caveats or—or—anything. Could you really have handed me over to him? Could you have watched him have his way with me, and then let him kill me?”

Astrilda stared at the ground.

“Answer me,” Skadi demanded, her voice growing rough. And she knew, right through her core, that if Astrilda so much as whispered the word “yes” that she’d hurl Thyrnir into her eye and slay her where she sat.

Astrilda’s long fingers tore and pulled at a leather lace in her boot. She clenched her jaw, relaxed, clenched her jaw, relaxed.

Finally, she raised her slate blue gaze to stare Skadi right in the eye. “No. I… I don’t think I could have.”

Skadi’s shoulders slumped in relief and her grip on Thyrnir relaxed. “Swear it to me on the gods.”

“I swear it,” whispered Astrilda.

Skadi fell back bonelessly to sit against the stone. “Then what were you going to do? When we reached the inlet where your dragon ship lay?”

Astrilda’s voice was toneless. “It was my hope that you would fight us, find a way to escape. After hearing of your exploits in Djúprvik, I was sure you would. But if you didn’t, I…”

“Yes?”

“I hadn’t quite thought it through. This was a test. My father has doubted me for some time. He knows I’m weak. Sensed that you and I had… well.” She grimaced. “I hoped that you would force me to fail by escaping or killing me. But if you didn’t…”

The other woman paused, biting her lower lip.

This time Skadi waited.

At last she completed her sentence, her voice growing hard and sure. “If you didn’t, then I think, deep down, I’d resolved to kill us both so that neither of us had to suffer any longer.”