A Yank at Valhalla

That voice was the last thing I heard. Even as its accents of superhuman triumph struck my ears, complete unconsciousness claimed me.

A throbbing, blinding pain in my head was my first sensation of returning consciousness. Then I became aware that I lay upon a hard bed of some kind, and that the air was cold and damp. I tried to open my eyes and could not. Summoning strength by a great mental effort, I raised my hand weakly to my head. Instantly I heard a joyful, sweet voice.

'He awakens, Frey!'

That voice, vibrating through the fibers of memory in my dazed brain, compelled me to open my eyes. Freya was bending over me. Her pale, beautiful face was framed by her unbound yellow hair, and it was eager with gladness. Her warm, blue eyes looked fondly down into mine.

She still wore the white linen gown that she had worn at the feast in Valhalla, before her abduction. And I saw, too, that Frey, pale, and bandaged around his neck and shoulder, had stumbled over to look down at me.

'Freya!' My voice was only a weak whisper.

Tears were in her lovely eyes as she put her face against mine, her cool cheek against my lips.

'Jarl Keith!' she whispered. 'I feared you were dying. It has been hours that you have slept like the dead.'

Weakly I put my arms around her slim shoulders and held her close to me. The bright gold of her hair on my face seemed at that moment to hold all of the sweetness in the world.

Then I looked beyond her: Frey's pale, haunted face and terrible remembrance rushed through my stunned mind. Loki and Fenris wolf and the great serpent emerging from their prison!

'Loki!' I gasped. 'I saw him come forth—'

'Yes, Jarl Keith,' said Frey. 'That which we Aesir have feared for centuries has happened. The arch-devil has been released.'

The blood seemed to leave my head as realization crashed home. The ancient rhyme on the rune key seemed to echo mockingly in my ears.

Bring me not home,

Lest Ragnarok come.

It had happened. I had brought the fateful rune key home. And now Loki and his monsters were free to lead the Jotun hosts in the last and most terrible attack against Asgard. I groaned at the thought of my own guilt, for it was all my responsibility. It was I, inspired by what spells of Loki I could not imagine, who had caused the rune key to be found. I had brought it into this hidden land to loose an incredibly evil menace that had lain dormant for centuries — yet conscious to add new torments and more vicious horrors to the old ones.

Freya had raised her face. She was looking at me with blue eyes that were bright with dread, her red lips quivering.

'But where are we?' I cried, trying to sit up. 'How is it you're with us, Freya?'

'We are in Jotunheim, Jarl Keith,' she whispered. 'I have been held here since the Jotun raiders brought me here and took the rune key away. And you and Frey were brought here and prisoned with me but a few hours ago. You were unconscious — dying, I feared.'

Her slim arm supported me as I sat up. Dazedly I stared around. We occupied a small stone cell, with walls that were of massive, damp blocks. The heavy wooden door was solidly closed. One tiny, barred window admitted pale daylight and barely enough air. Frey and Freya helped me as I rose to my feet from the rude hide couch where I had lain. I stumbled with their support to the window, and looked out at ancient Jotunheim.

Jotunheim crouched like a great, slumbering reptile on a low plateau above steaming marshes. A sluggish, black river wound from the rugged hills behind the city. Down past the stone walls, it oozed through the dank, brooding marshes to the distant sea.

It was a city of squat, massive castles and forts, built with antediluvian rudeness. The giant stone blocks were overgrown with green, hideous moss. Our cell was in the basement level of the most enormous of the castles, a high, oblong structure.

Even in daylight, the city was filled by chill, foggy mists from the streaming morasses below. From our window I could see scores of longships moored in the river which wound past Jotunheim's northern wall. Hosts of Jotuns were busy on ships and shore. Warriors and thralls were carrying stacks of weapons, fitting new oars and masts, all in a bustle of hurried activity. Through the ancient, somber city trotted squads of hastening warriors, hurrying men and women. Everyone was feverishly engaged in mysterious preparations.

'Captives in Jotunheim,' I moaned. 'And Loki—'

'He is here, too,' Frey said unhappily. 'In this palace, which belongs to Utgar, he directs the preparations you see. Those are the preparations for the last great attack on Asgard.'

Freya, holding my arm, looked up at me with blue eyes that were almost black with dread.

'The Jotuns went mad when Loki arrived with Utgar, Hel, you and Frey,' she said. 'They cry that now at last shall they wipe the Aesir from existence.'

'Ragnarok, the final struggle, draws near,' Frey declared solemnly. 'Aye, this is the struggle that we Aesir knew must come if ever Loki were freed.'

'But Odin and the Aesir will not yield!' I cried. 'They will throw back Loki and the Jotuns!'

'I pray the fates that it be so,' Frey said. 'But the Jotuns outnumber us how more greatly than before. With Loki and his evil science, Fenris and Iormungandr fighting on their side, we have reason to fear for Asgard. But if perish we must, the Jotuns and Loki shall perish with us. That I know.'

'Can't we sneak out of here and get back to Asgard?' I asked urgently.

His haggard face twisted into a hopeless smile.

'How could we even escape this cell? And if we did, the whole city is swarming with armed warriors making ready. Never could we win past all the soldiers of Jotunheim to freedom.'

'What will they do with us?' I pressed. 'Why do they hold us instead of killing us?'

'I don't know,' he muttered. 'Be sure that Loki has some evil scheme in mind that will make use of us.'

He staggered, and I hastened to help him to the hide couch, where he sat down weakly.

Frey's wounds in that battle in the cave had been serious ones. He had lost most of his unaging strength.

My own strength was rapidly returning. I had paced back and forth from door to window of the cell, racking my brain for some means of escape. There was none. Finally I gave it up and sat dully down beside Freya.

Hours must have passed as we sat in a heavy, hopeless silence. The Sun was setting through the slowly thickening mists of Jotunheim, casting a pale beam onto the stone floor. There was a rattle at the lock of our door. It opened, and a big, fierce-eyed Jotun captain stood glaring at us. Behind him were a dozen guards.

'You, outlander,' said the captain to me. 'Come with us. Our lord Loki would speak to you.'

'What does Loki want with me?' I demanded, rising painfully to my feet.

'Is it for me or for you, outland dog, to question the reasons of our lord?' roared the captain. 'Come, or be dragged!'

I pressed Freya's hand and went with the guards. In a gloomy, stone corridor, they bared their swords to cut me down if I attempted escape or resistance. The door of the cell was barred again, and two of the Jotuns took their places outside it. The others marched me away.

The dank chill of the passage struck me to the marrow. But I felt a greater chill of dread at this summons from Loki. I was going to face the arch-traitor who had waked for his final most vicious revenge…

Chapter XI The Arch-fiend

We passed through gloomy corridors and chambers of age-old stone, crusted with evil-looking white fungi and lichens, dripping with condensed vapor. Rats squeaked across our path unheeded. Up broad stairs of troglodytic hugeness, we climbed into the upper levels of the massive palace. Everywhere we met soldiers and thralls hurrying to and fro, carrying piles of spears and arrows, stacks of shields, and