Halfdan waited, counting his breaths. The fate of the nine realms lay in the palm of his hand as he held nine small bones. The moment had to be exactly right. Twilight had come, heralding that sunrise would soon follow. That would be the correct time; the end of night, the oncoming of day. If the worlds were to end, let it happen with the dawning light; if his plan worked, let it be greeted by the new day.
Around him, nature responded. Snowfall had begun, soon accompanied by a howling gale. This was not a gentle moment. The fimbulvetr, the first sign of the end, had gripped the lands for weeks, but now came its strongest hour. Biting frost tore at all those present, though Halfdan did not feel it. Warmth, cold, hunger, thirst, weariness – he was past such concerns.
He wondered briefly how Midgard fared, given how the winter would have struck the lands. But the thought quickly abandoned him again. All that mattered lay in his hand. Fate whispered to him, beckoned and gestured to him.
The snow fell absent clouds; the sun’s light reached him as it rose above the horizon. Night and day met; it was time. And should Halfdan complete the ritual, a wolf would rise to follow the sun across the horizon only to swallow it and plunge them all into darkness. The einherjar would attack and battle to follow. Halfdan-Loki would meet Heimdall in battle, and both would die. Thor would slay the world serpent, but take nine steps and fall to its venom. Fenrir would devour Odin. And as the barriers between the worlds fell apart, the J?tnar of Muspelheim would come to their aid, led by Surtr, who would kill Freyr and destroy everything in fire.
Halfdan stood, surrounded by his runes, each signifying one of the worlds. “I call to Hel, let the dead rise.” The symbol began to glow with warm, golden light. Halfdan took one bone into his other hand, clenched his fist around it, and crushed it to pieces. As the dust fell to the ground, the glow turned cold and white.
“From Myrkheim, darkness shall follow.” The same process repeated with its rune, yellow light turning white with the breaking of the bone.
“In Vanaheim, let feud erupt.”
“From J?tunheim, foes shall follow.”
“In Niflheim, let frost reign.”
“From Muspelheim, fire shall follow.” The snowfall intensified if possible, becoming a blizzard. Even those standing closest by, such as Freydis and Sif, could hardly see Halfdan anymore.
“In Midgard, let brother slay brother.”
“From Alfheim, wolf shall howl.”
Eight runes written, eight spells spoken, eight bones broken. Halfdan held the last in his hand. And it occurred to him that he could no longer stop of his own volition. He had come too far. He had to see it through. And none here had the power to stop him.
“To Asgard, where we all shall meet.” The rune began to glow, completing the pattern on the ground. A circle became illuminated, the only source of light; despite the absence of clouds, the sun could not shine through the cover of snowfall, and day felt like night. Halfdan placed the last bone in the palm of his right hand.
“Enough!” shouted a voice, brimming with authority. With power. The only voice that could have commanded Halfdan-Loki in this moment. Looking up, as if his eyesight created a path through the precipitation and darkness, he saw a tall, gaunt figure staring back at him with a lone eye. Odin had come.
*
The god’s sudden appearance sent a shock through the assembled J?tnar. Many of them seized weapons, and most pulled away, giving Odin wide berth. Further away, Fenrir growled. “Keep a leash on your dog,” the one-eyed wanderer commanded.
“Quiet, boy,” Halfdan said, and the wolf’s angry sounds died down. At his feet, the runes continued to glow, save the last. He kept a tight hold on the final bone in his hand. “Say your piece.”
“You have made your point,” Odin replied curtly. “I wish to extend the truce my son gave you. We should speak.”
Halfdan exhaled, trying to avoid that it sounded like a sigh of relief. “I accept. A truce while you are here. Come.” He left the magic inscriptions on the ground and moved towards Odin; together, they left the gathering of J?tnar and went to the ramparts, walking its circle.
“I underestimated you.”
Halfdan hid any surprise at the admission. “You did.”
“I never thought you’d get this far. We stand on the precipice.” The wind and snowfall had died down; nature held his breath. “But there’s still time.”
“It could all end in this moment,” Halfdan offered. “Simply agree to let us be in peace, and you never have to worry again.”
An overbearing smile made Odin’s thoughts clear. “Would that it were so simple. Destiny has a habit of enforcing itself when we are idle. It must be resisted at every turn if we are to slow it down.”
“Odd. From what I can see, all your actions to prevent fate only serve to hasten its arrival.”
“I’ve kept the worlds safe for thousands of years,” Odin sneered. “Forgive me if I don’t require your advice or judgement.”
“As you wish. And yet you’ve brought us here. Standing on the precipice.”
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“You proved more tenacious than I could have imagined. But I am not unreasonable. We can reach an arrangement.”
“I already told the conditions. We part ways. You leave me and all of mine alone, and you can continue playing king all you want.”
The contemptuous smile haunted Odin’s features again. “You have destroyed a lot, Halfdan-Loki, and you expect me to trust none of it will harm me? Is that great wolf of yours to roam freely?”
“I’m sure he’ll be happy in J?tunheim. A realm none of you Aesir should visit, anyway.”
“You’ve broken eight of the seals that safeguard Yggdrasil. And what if your woman is killed, or your child? Will you keep the berserker’s anger in check, or will you break the last bone and condemn us all in a moment of rage?”
“If I can trust you to leave us in peace, you can trust me to keep my head.”
“Would you hand over the last of Kvasir’s bones that you stole?”
Now Halfdan mirrored Odin’s expression. “He wasn’t using them. Hand it over? So you can hide them all and then resume hunting us down?”
“I see that you trust me as much as I trust you.”
Halfdan glanced at Odin’s hand holding [Gungnir] as they walked. “How is your throwing hand? The wound doesn’t bother you too much, I hope.” He held up a small jar that Freydis had given him. “Considering you tried to turn those closest to me against me…”
“You can’t blame me for trying everything to stop the end of the worlds.”
“The end of your world, Odin. Others too, perhaps, but yours first and foremost.”
“I’m sure the countless lives about to be extinguished by your actions appreciate the subtle nuances of your argument.”
“All you have to do is stop.” Halfdan did just that, ceasing his pacing to stare the one-eyed god in the face. “Go back to Valh?ll. Sit on your throne, drink wine, whatever you wish to do. All this ends if you simply stop.”
“And if I call your bluff?” Odin looked no less resolved as he returned the stare. “Is your heart so hardened, Halfdan-Loki, that you’d drown the worlds in fire? Is that the action of a man who adopted an orphan and spared his enemy simply because she has lovely, green eyes?” Contempt flittered across his face.
Halfdan held up the last of Kvasir’s bones. “Do you wish to find out?” For a heavy moment, neither spoke. Odin did not encourage him to go on, nor did he surrender. Halfdan kept his threat visible, but he did not carry it out. Finally, the berserker broke the silence. “There’s one other choice.”
“Which is?”
“Holmganga.”
Odin’s hand clenched his spear. “What conditions?”
“You and me only. We fight until surrender. If I win, you abandon all attempts at controlling me or mine, and you leave us in peace.”
A glint appeared in the lone eye left in the god’s face. “And if I win?”
Once more, Halfdan held up the jar that Odin had given to Freydis. “I drink this.”
He only needed to consider it for a moment. “Agreed. When?”
Halfdan glanced at his camp before looking out at the einherjar beyond the ramparts. It was still early; with the wind quieted and the snowfall ended, it was a beautiful winter’s morn with a pale sun slowly rising. “Give me a moment to speak to my people. Bring yours to witness.” Halfdan pointed at a spot just outside the earthworks. “We meet there and finish this.”
“Agreed,” Odin reiterated, this time with a sneer. For once, he did not vanish into a cloud of feathers or use any other magic; he simply wandered down the ramparts, across the ditch partly filled by corpses, and continued on. Looking at him from the back, his spear acting as a walking staff, Halfdan suddenly saw just an aged and tired old man. But it belied his powers and how dangerous he was; something Halfdan would be reminded of within the hour, he knew. But first, he had his affairs to settle.
*
Freydis and Sif awaited him, anxiously, as did all the J?tnar. Halfdan returned to them, feeling the weight of their anticipation. “I’ll fight him. Alone. This’ll all be over soon.” Some of his people cheered, but it was a muted effort; the idea that anyone could defeat Odin seemed inconceivable.
Halfdan agreed; they had driven the one-eyed god to flight on previous occasions, but only because Odin valued his life too much to risk it. This duel, Odin would not back down; he would fight until the end.
Thus, Halfdan did not feel up for the task of assuaging his people or their fears; besides, there was nothing further for them to do, no more orders to give. He had a few moments left, and should his plans fail, he wanted to spend them right. He went to his two companions and extended his hands to grab one from each of them.
“He agreed to it?” Freydis asked.
“It’s done. One way or the other. We’ll know soon enough.”
“I’m a little relieved we won’t see Ragnar?k happen. Even if watching a wolf eat the sun would be incredible,” Sif admitted. “But this is better. You’ll win, Halfdan. You always have.”
He smiled and bent down to look her into the eyes. “Your faith in me does me proud, daughter.” He pulled into a tight hug. “The best skáld in all the realms.”
Squished by a berserker, Sif could only gasp for breath until he let go. “My first song I ever compose will be about you, Halfdan.”
He smiled and straightened up. “Can’t wait to hear it.” His heart pounding faster, knowing that the end was nearly at hand, he turned to Freydis. “You have filled my days with love. Both of you.” He gave his priestess the same embrace as the skáld had received. She did not complain, but returned it as tightly as she could.
“You gave me life and family,” she whispered into his ear. She did not add words of gratitude; her tone of voice conveyed her emotions sufficiently. “You know what to do now. We’ll be waiting for you.”
He exhaled deeply and pulled back. “See you once it’s all over.” He looked at both of them one more time. Halfdan could not have imagined this journey when he first met an orphaned girl, not yet gifted, and was told she was now his responsibility. He would have broken the ninth and final bone if he thought it would have kept her safe. But Ragnar?k would spare none of them; instead, this had to be the plan. On the plain beyond their defences, Odin awaited with his spear, seier, and countless other powers he had accumulated over the millennia. It was time to risk everything and settle this. It was time for one last battle. It was time for holmganga.
