The cliff face uncoiled.

Breath caught in her throat, a storm rushed through her mind, and Skadi took a step back, drawing Thyrnir from her belt without thinking about it.

Sinuous curves, glossy scales of slate blue, spines running down the central ridge, its stomach great bands of pearlescent white. Massive enough in the chest where two clawed arms emerged for her to perfectly envision it swallowing a grown man with ease, but otherwise tapering into a great tail that was impossible to track, coils within coils, loops upon loops, all of it arrayed upon the cliff like a great rope hung upon a barn wall.

Its head shifted, pulled away from the rock face, turned to orient on them. Its maw cracked apart revealing angled slender fangs, a crimson interior and flickering tongue that was as shockingly vivid as blood spattered upon snow. Its eyes burned gold, without pupils, each so bright that they seemed more cracks into the heart of a forge. A dozen huge horns swept back from its skull to protect its neck, each connected to the next by a skirt of bone.

The air around it shivered as it hissed, and Skadi felt a wash of numbing cold blow over her, making the freezing temperatures of the night before feel inconsequential.

The Stórhǫggvi raised his axe in both hands. “Now we’re talking.”

Skadi sharpened her vision and staggered back before the blaze of gold. More than she could count. More than Grýla, more than Afastr, easily fifty, maybe much more.

“Glámr, Damian, Geirr.” Her voice was little more than a rasp. “Run.”

“Never,” hissed Geirr, pulling his axe free of its loop.

Glámr gripped him by the arm. “You swore to obey. Go!”

Skadi inhaled deeply. Marbjörn was moving out wide. The Stórhǫggvi was moving toward the linnorm, grinning like a fool, unclasping his cloak with one hand so that it fell onto the snow.

Skadi bit her lower lip. Should she hurl Thyrnir? Where was Líføy? She drew Natthrafn with her left hand.

The linnorm hissed again, its whole body tensing, claws digging into the cliff and causing fragments of stone to shatter and fall free.

“Oh, you’re a beautiful bitch,” said the Stórhǫggvi. “I’m going to carve you up. I’m going to feast on your flesh.”

Movement in the air. Hjörþrimul the valkyrie hovered amidst the branches, armored and gleaming, blade in hand, cerulean cloak undulating as if blown by a fierce gale.

The linnorm screeched and exploded forward, its attack overwhelming, all of it sweeping forth like a flash flood, coils and tail filling the air as it fell upon the Stórhǫggvi.

Who roared and swung his axe, but the linnorm was too swift. It melted away before the blow even as the rest of its body boiled up around him, its muscular length wrapping around the Stórhǫggvi, trees snapping as the rest of it smashed through trunks, shattered branches, and then like a landslide it swept on into the forest, carrying the Stórhǫggvi with it, a frenzied wave of blue and white and then it was gone.

Marbjörn roared. “For Kráka!” and raced after it.

Líføy was ashen faced, an arrow nocked at her bow, eyes wide. “So fast!”

Skadi sprinted after the linnorm. It had left a great swathe of shattered trees in its wake, most of them burst into matchwood, knocked asunder as a petulant child might topple her toys.

Skadi ran, fleetfooted, Thyrnir held at the ready. Leaped logs, raced around leaning trunks, and saw the linnorm up ahead on a mass of boulders, coiled into a pile, the Stórhǫggvi grappled at its peak, its long neck casting out and back around so that its huge jaws could snap at him.

The Stórhǫggvi had one arm free. With it he hacked at the linnorm, somehow still alive, still struggling even as his face darkened, his eyes bulged, his whole body swelled from the pressure.

“For Freyja!” screamed Skadi and through Thyrnir with all her strength, her whole body behind the attack so that she nearly spilled forward over the mess of broken branches and torn dirt.

Thyrnir thrilled and flew from her hand, faster than thought, and sank deep into the linnorm’s neck, punching through the scales to lodge fast.

The linnorm keened and whipped its head around. Opened its maw open wide and Skadi recovered her balance enough to look up and see a burning ball of white fire coalesce in the back of its gullet.

“Look out!” Glámr slammed into her at full speed, knocking her clean off her feet and sending them both crashing to the forest floor just as the linnorm roared and unleashed a gout of blue fire that washed over the stumps and toppled trees.

The sudden cold was so terrible, Skadi couldn’t even cry out. Surely not even Niflheim could be so frigid. The moisture in her eyes froze over, her throat and mouth crackled as a film of ice formed around them, the sweat on her skin crackled and became hard beads, and her lungs ached as she lost the ability to breathe.

Trees exploded into massive, splintered chunks. The sound was terrible, like a thousand thigh bones snapping all at once. Glámr covered her, and she felt him stiffen as if stabbed in the back.

For a moment it was all Skadi could do to just lie there and not scream. Her lungs were a void, stilled and immobile, and she heaved, fought to suck down a breath. She couldn’t even close her eyes till she got a hand out, little more than a club within its mitten, and rubbed at her face.

A splitting pain stabbed into her forehead as if she’d kept a chunk of ice in her mouth for too long, but panic gave her strength and she forced Glámr off, got up to all fours, and pounded her fist against her chest.

Crackling sounded from within her throat, the sound alien, and suddenly she could breathe. She inhaled, a frightening rasp, and turned to Glámr who lay stiff by her side.

He was alive, but his skin was frosted over, icicles in his hair, his back encrusted with ice.

Panic, horror, terror.

No. Not Glámr.

But there was no time. With her sharpened vision, she saw that his every thread was gone, as were her own.

Roaring sounded, and she rose to her knees.

Somehow the Stórhǫggvi had broken free of the linnorm’s clasp. He reeled, his shoulder a raw pulpy mass of blood and flesh, but held his axe yet in his good hand.

The linnorm reared above him, slowing, growing immobile, massive, its yellow eyes searing.

The Stórhǫggvi laughed with delight.

An arrow took the monster in the throat, lodging deep beside Thyrnir. Líføy had to be close. Marbjörn came pounding out of the woods at full speed, silent now, and swung his axe at the linnorm’s back.

Its thread count had been greatly reduced; even as Marbjörn swung, she saw another five or so threads snuff out as it swayed sinuously aside. It had—what—forty? Fifty left?

The Stórhǫggvi was down to ten. Marbjörn to five.

Líføy loosed another arrow, but the linnorm dove into the woods, fast as fish into a mess of pond weed.

“Oh no!” croaked the Stórhǫggvi, heaving his axe up onto his shoulder. “Not so fast, my pet!” And he ran after it.

“Damian!” She saw the priest hesitating deeper in the woods. “Here! Heal Glámr!”

“You idiot!” bellowed Marbjörn, and charged after the Stórhǫggvi.

“Líføy! With me!” Skadi rose, swayed, felt her body’s warmth push back more of the cold, and broke into a run, chasing the men.

“What are we doing?” Líføy was fleetfooted beside her, eyes darting to and fro as she searched the forest, arrow at her bow. “We should be running the other way!”

“Can’t lose them. Hurry!”

Skadi put on another burst of speed. They needed the Stórhǫggvi and Marbjörn. They were the most fearsome warriors in all of their host. If they returned without them, their army’s spirit would be badly wounded.

The trees thinned. Skadi heard the roar of the linnorm, then realized it was swiftly flowing water. They broke out into the open and staggered to a stop.

A swiftly flowing river burst out over large rocks to fall over the edge of a cliff. The forest continued below, another twenty yards down. The White Sea glittered just beyond that.

The linnorm had coiled itself up in the center of the waterfall, which split into various streams around it, frothing and furious at its obstruction. The Stórhǫggvi was stalking toward it, swinging his axe from side to side, Marbjörn moving out wide again, his great bearded face pulled into a furious frown of concentration.

“Freyja!” Skadi reached her hand toward the sky. “Grant me your blessing! Hear me now! I dedicate this kill to you, to your glory! Stay Hjörþrimul’s hand, and grant me the means to defeat this beast!”

Laughter sounded all around her like a rain shower of golden coins.

“If I grant your wish, you must swear to obey a single command of mine someday in the future, no matter what I request.”

Skadi bit her lower lip. Líføy was aiming her arrow. The Stórhǫggvi tensed, ready to rush at the linnorm who lashed its tail amongst the frothing waters.

“What command?”

“Whatever I request, no matter the cost. Swear it and I shall aid you now.”

Skadi glanced up and back; Hjörþrimul had trailed her out of the forest, flew high above them, her metal mask gleaming in the morning light, her eyes wide and intent behind their eyeholes.

“I’ll eat you raw,” rasped the Stórhǫggvi. “And fuck what I can’t eat.”

The linnorm lowered its head and hissed defiantly at him. Fifty threads. Far too many.

Marbjörn grasped his axe with both hands, prepared to rush in the moment the Stórhǫggvi charged.

“Yes!” Even as Skadi swore, she knew she’d regret it dearly one day. But she couldn’t let Marbjörn die, couldn’t lose the Stórhǫggvi, vile as he was, couldn’t pass up the opportunity to finish off the linnorm and open Kaldrborg’s rear to attack. “I swear it!”

A pair of soft lips pressed against her cheek in a tender kiss, and Freyja’s voice whispered in her ear. “Good.”

Heat surged through her from the kiss, sweeping the cold away, bringing Skadi fully back to life, and her golden threads blazed forth from her chest once more, all of them returned.

Thyrnir thrummed in her hand.

“Die!” screamed the Stórhǫggvi and charged headlong at the linnorm, axe sweeping back as his boots splashed into the river.

Marbjörn again hurtled forward in silence.

Líføy loosed her arrow. It missed, but another thread vanished from the linnorm.

Which exploded forward to sweep into the Stórhǫggvi like an avalanche, hitting him sideways in a mass of coils and spray and stones.

Skadi waited for its head to come scything around to snap at the Stórhǫggvi and threw Thyrnir.

But this time it was a measured cast; she poured a third of her power into the throw, and still Thyrnir sped through the air, humming like a hornet.

Everything happened at once.

The linnorm sensed the incoming spear and wrenched its head aside, losing seven more threads in the process, Thyrnir flying out into the air over the forest. Its coils slammed into the Stórhǫggvi who hewed one nearly in half before going under, buried beneath scales and frothing waves.

Marbjörn leaped and brought his bearded axe down upon the linnorm, burying its head deep. The last of his threads disappeared, taking another five of the linnorm’s with it.

Líføy loosed a fourth arrow, then a fifth.

Skadi inhaled deeply, stretched out her hand, and summoned Thyrnir back to her. She felt a deep spiritual tug and then it thwapped into her palm.

With a cry she ran forward, cutting across the stream, waving her arms as she passed before the linnorm. It reluctantly tracked her, hissing as its coils bunched and seethed, and even as it watched her its tail slammed against Marbjörn and sent him stumbling over the cliff’s edge to fall out of sight with a cry.

The linnorm lunged at her, and only Thyrnir’s preternatural speed saved her; she flung her halfspear into its maw.

It swerved aside with impossible grace.

Thyrnir missed and flew out once more into the sky.

Another six threads disappeared from its skein.

Panting for breath Skadi danced back, Natthrafn held before her, praying she didn’t trip. The linnorm remained focused on her, uncoiling to spool in her direction.

Líføy loosed another arrow. This one bounced off the scales above its shoulder.

Another thread gone.

Skadi extended her hand. She was down to three threads, but with a pull she yanked Thyrnir back into her palm, and it restored another three to her.

The linnorm opened its maw. A ball of roiling blue gas hissed in the back of its throat.

“Oh shit,” said Skadi, freezing in place.

She was ten yards from the forest. Everything otherwise was boulders and rocks, fast flowing streams, or yawning drops to the forest below.

“For Djúprvik!” screamed Geirr as he burst out of the trees. He ran with magnificent athleticism, leaping rocks, his hair flowing behind him, axe raised high.

The linnorm turned its head and drenched him in blue flame.

Skadi screamed and threw Thyrnir, but it was too late.

Her spear sank deep in the linnorm’s neck, beside the other wound which oozed purple, watery blood.

Her last six threads disappeared, as did six more of the linnorm’s.

The flame dissipated in ethereal curlicues, leaving Geirr frozen midstride, his skin transmuted to pale blue, his clothing frost-ridden, his expression caught in a scream of rage or horror.

The linnorm reeled back, croaking as if darted its head from side to side, distressed by the spear in its throat. Almost as an afterthought, it flicked its tail out, catching Geirr in the chest, and shattering him into glittering crimson chunks.

Líføy paused, eyes going wide, then reached for her last arrow.

Marbjörn was gone. Geirr was dead. The Stórhǫggvi was crushed beneath the linnorm’s bulk. Glámr was probably dead. Damian was back in the woods. Líføy loosed her last arrow. It sank and bounced off the linnorm’s hide again, taking another thread with it.

It was just her and Natthrafn now, and she had no wyrd left.

“Skadi!” Líføy was backing into the woods. “Run!”

Skadi’s shoulders were heaving. Freyja’s blessing still kept her warm, but she knew it would do nothing to keep the linnorm’s jaws from tearing her apart.

And somehow the monster still had some fifteen threads left.

“Run!” shouted Líføy.

Every instinct told her to go.

But she was a woman of the North.

The linnorm hissed, purple blood washing down over its scales, its head weaving from side to side as it watched her with its burning eyes.

Skadi lowered her chin, raised Natthrafn, and took a step forward.