They moved quickly across the plains of J?tunheim. Halfdan expected that they would be watched, either by spies in service to the Aesir or J?tnar, probably both; But the former could marshal far more powers against him once he inevitably arrived at their own territory, and the latter did not stand a chance against him. There was no point in secrecy; only speed mattered. The endgame approached. The less time they gave Odin to prepare his response, the better.
So they marched for the remainder of the day, as swiftly as Sif could walk; when night fell, she slept on Halfdan’s shoulders while he continued. They had no trouble laying their course. Sif’s memory as a skáld helped as always – while she was awake, at least. When not, Halfdan relied on his own, as their destination was a place he had already visited; although not a skáld, his memory had much improved since becoming an immortal, and he could recall many details with ease that helped him find their way. Guided by sun, stars, or landmarks, they continued on their course, occasionally correcting as needed.
On the second night, they rested, mostly to allow Freydis the chance to sleep; Halfdan was tempted to leave them and hunt for better fare than mushrooms, but he dared not risk them being attacked while separated, and he simply stood vigil throughout the dark hours. On the next day, after another swift march, they saw their destination, familiar to Halfdan. Ahead, the homestead of Utgarda-Loki rose in the distance.
*
Compared to Halfdan’s previous visit, the place seemed idle if not outright abandoned. He knew this was simply due to the seasons, however; the thralls and karls serving the J?tun had finished the most important work, bringing in the harvest before winter’s frost could claim it, which left little toil that needed done outside. Given the coldness of the days, Halfdan imagined they preferred to stay indoors. And upon approach, the occasional signs of life could still be seen. The trough of water had the ice on its surface broken, allowing animals or thralls to slake their thirst. The occasional sound of a cow or horse reached them from within the stable; smoke rose from a small hole in the roof of the longhouse, suggesting a cooking fire within. Lastly, as they entered the courtyard proper, the door to the aforementioned building was opened.
Utgarda-Loki appeared exactly as Halfdan remembered him. Clad in fine garments and jewellery, looking well-fed, in want or need for nothing. He walked down the few steps onto the yard itself, which allowed his servants to leave the longhouse as well, all of them armed with nervous hands on the hilt of their weapons. From the stables and the shanties that lined the courtyard, the thralls stuck their heads out, watching the commotion while keeping their distance. Given the tension in the air, Halfdan could not blame them; all that mattered was that they could hear and see him.
“You returned to my lands,” spoke the master of the house. “You left in pursuit of your companions. I see that your hunt had success.” His eyes fell on the priestess and the skáld, accompanied with a grin. “Which begs the question why you now return.” The cold expression on his face revealed his own feelings on the matter.
“I have, though I’m much changed from the man you knew. You may rest easy, Utgarda-Loki,” Halfdan said, knowing the moniker would irritate him. “I do not seek your hospitality, any favours from you, or even the opportunity to speak with you.”
“And yet you stand in front of my home doing just that. Explain yourself.”
“It is simple. I have come for them.” Halfdan extended his arm and gestured towards the many slaves that watched from afar.
Utgarda-Loki bellowed with laughter, though it was tinged with disdain. “You would steal my thralls? Why, if you are in need of labour to work your lands, there are easier ways. Though given that winter has already arrived, you are a tad late for such concerns.” His armed servants snickered and sneered behind him.
“I take no thralls, nor will I ever be served by slaves. I come to offer them freedom and the choice to follow me. Hear me!” Halfdan’s voice roared across the yard. “I have come to break your chains and set you free!”
“You dare?” Utgarda-Loki’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You think a berserker and your pitiful companions stand a chance against me? If my men let any of you live, my sorcery will flay the skin from your flesh.”
“I told you,” Halfdan continued, turning his eyes back on the J?tun, “I am much changed since our last visit. You need not die, Utgarda-Loki, nor any of your men. But I will not be denied.”
“Kill them.”
Sif and Freydis stepped back; while they had plenty of powers useful in a fight, this was Halfdan’s moment. The story of what happened next would be spread far and wide.
A spear flew through the air. Using [Seier], Halfdan dulled its edge and caught it with one hand before tossing it aside. An arrow followed, which he simply let fall to the ground in front of him. As a swordsman came swinging at him, Halfdan let his magic toss the man aside before he came close. An axeman attacked with a howl; Halfdan caught the edge of his weapon taking no hurt as before, while his other hand shot out and grabbed the man by the throat. With an exertion of strength, Halfdan broke his neck and let him fall, dead. One by one, the warriors serving Utgarda-Loki faltered, and still, the berserker had yet to draw his own weapon.
“You!” exclaimed the J?tun, his eyes burning with sorcery. Halfdan guessed that he had finally used his ability to read the berserker’s gift and understand whom he faced. “I should have known. The early winter, the omens – that one-eyed fool has finally failed!”
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As Utgarda-Loki’s men abandoned him, those still alive, Halfdan turned his attention on the J?tun. “You are welcome to try where he failed.”
“I have not survived the centuries by picking unnecessary fights,” came the smiling reply. “Farewell, great deceiver. We shall never meet again.” With a spell and a wink, the J?tun disappeared.
*
The last of Utgarda-Loki’s warriors fled, seeing their master had done the same. Unharmed and standing unarmed, Halfdan turned towards the slaves that crowded the doorways of the surrounding buildings. They looked as frightened as those who had just fled from him, though that terror made them freeze in place rather than seek escape, it would seem. “You need not fear me.” Halfdan raised his empty hands in a gesture to signal his peaceful intentions. “I’ve come for your sake. To set you free.”
His declaration caused a murmur, but nothing else. The thralls, in their thin and haggard clothing, iron collars around their necks, seemed as frightened as before.
“Does any among you have the courage to step forward? To trust me and accept my gift?” Halfdan wondered if he was mistaken to seek to recruit these people. In his mortal life, he had always considered those enslaved to be weak and ultimately responsible for their own position. As the inheritor of Loki, his mind had changed; he saw chains and those who wore them in a different light. Now he wondered which beliefs would be proven wrong.
At length, a woman stepped out from one of the derelict huts. She approached Halfdan with the fearful expression, though her steps were steady. “Is it true? You’ll set me free? I won’t have to bear children just to see them grow up with a collar around their necks?”
“Helga,” he said, his [Seier] giving him her name, “Do you accept my gift?”
She nodded, still looking afraid.
In turn Halfdan slowly extended his hand towards her until his finger could touch the iron ring that choked her neck, activating [Breaker of Chains]. The metal cracked into two halves, falling to the ground. “I name you my priestess and bestow my gift upon you.”
She fell to her knees, picking up the broken ring before looking up at Halfdan with reverence. “Thank you!”
He reached down to help her stand. “Do not kneel. To me or anyone else. Instead, do for your brethren as I did for you.”
Helga turned and ran towards the other J?tnar still hiding in the huts. One by one, she touched their collars, and Halfdan felt the burst of power each time. It took her a while; Utgarda-Loki had possessed many slaves, tending to his vast lands. As they were freed, the former thralls dared to step out until dozens filled the yard.
“What should we do?” someone asked.
“What do you command?” asked another.
“I have not set you free for one master to replace the other,” Halfdan proclaimed. “I give you one task and one request. Whether you fulfil either, I leave to you.”
Helga looked at him with glowing eyes. “What is it?”
“Gather any provisions you can find and go in all directions. Bring liberation to every man or woman wearing iron, and set them free through my power. If you ask in the name of Halfdan-Loki, chains shall be broken.”
“What else?”
“I leave to fight a war. Against the Aesir, who have plagued your kind for centuries. Against Odin, who would see us all returned to servitude to protect the order he built. Soon, the time will come when I will call upon you to seize weapons and fight beside me. I give no order, for you are free men and women – I only ask. Go as your spirit tells you, but wherever you go, break every chain you find!”
“In Halfdan-Loki’s name!”
*
Once the cheering ended, they had practical concerns to go over. The J?tnar quickly raided every building for food; with winter upon them, it would not be feasible to forage or hunt. Some of them killed the cows and began butchering them to add to their supplies. Others, given horses and whatever food was available, dispersed in every direction as the vanguard of Halfdan’s new priesthood.
As for the liberator, he bid them farewell. Once the Aesir realised what he had done in J?tunheim, they would know that he only needed one final piece to complete his plan, and they would know where to expect him. Although it might be in vain, Halfdan nurtured hope that with sufficient haste, he could beat them to it. And so, the three companions set out to trace their steps back to the tunnel and Myrkheim.
“Not a bad speech,” remarked Sif casually, once they were out of earshot. “Though you messed up a few words and forgot some as well.”
“Well, we can’t all have a skáld’s memory,” Halfdan grumbled. Sif had composed the speech for him and demanded he practised until he had it memorised; Halfdan had gone through it once and decided that would suffice.
They continued briefly in silence until Freydis broke it. “Will it work? You are asking these people, who have only just received the freedom, to die in battle on your behalf.”
“Some will. Enough of them.” For centuries, the hatred between Aesir and J?tnar had been nurtured by both sides. Whether the pull of fate or the need for revenge, Halfdan knew that they would join him. Perhaps not as many as he would have liked, not enough to storm the walls of Valh?ll and tear it down, but enough to pose a credible threat.
“What’s next?” asked Sif. “What is left?”
“Fenrir,” Freydis replied quietly, familiar with Loki’s plans.
Halfdan did not add to her answer; they all knew what this meant. Fenrir stood chained in Asgard; once they reached Myrkheim, they would have to hurry onwards to the realm of the Aesir, and there, it would all be decided. The final journey lay ahead of them.
