With the magical spear still embedded in him, Halfdan’s healing did not activate; either the injury was too severe for [Mend Your Wounds], or else the artefact suppressed his ability. He was on all fours, the haft sticking up from his back into the air, coughing in vain for breath he could not draw while spitting out blood.
His companions reacted. Sif unleashed her galdr, a disharmonious song to confuse and bring an enemy to their knees. Freydis blinked to cross the distance between her and Odin, thrusting her spear against him.
Against the master of sorcery, galdr had no effect. As for Freydis’ weapon, the one-eyed god caught the blade with his hand, taking no injury from its edge. With a strength that belied his thin frame, he raised Freydis’ spear into the air while she still held onto it and threw her aside.
Sif began swinging, a stone of living rock loaded into her sling. A blast of magic threw her back against the cave wall, and she dropped her weapon. “Not this time,” Odin sneered.
Freydis came again, blinking close with [Death’s Needle] in hand. No seier could dull the edge upon the dagger from Hel. Yet the moment she appeared out of the air, Odin caught her wrist and twisted it to break the bone, forcing her to drop the weapon.
Overcome with agony and still on the ground, Halfdan did not see the fight, but he heard their cries of anguish. He could only think of one thing to do. He called upon a [Berserker's Rage]. At once, everything faded. Pain, concern, any emotion or sensation. Only the instinct to kill remained, taking over.
He got on his feet, picking up his hammer as he did. The bear knew its enemy. The gaunt shape turned towards him, throwing the woman against the cave wall. With a gesture, the spear vanished from Halfdan’s body, appearing in Odin’s hands.
The berserker roared and charged, filled with fury. He raised [Heart of Yggdrasil] in a prepared blow that would crush even the strongest of gods.
Before Halfdan could reach his foe, Odin threw his spear once again. As before, it skewered the berserker straight through the chest with such force, he was thrown back. His hammer flew out of his grasp, and he gasped for air he could not draw. Worse, agony returned in full force.
Blinking repeatedly, still suffocating, Halfdan could barely comprehend what had happened. He had been brought out of his berserker state. His strongest power, his ability to ignore injury and pain, to fight until death or victory, taken from him.
“Who do you think devised the ritual of the bear?” Odin hissed.
Whether seier, the weapon, or something else entirely, the raven god knew exactly how to deal with a berserker, Halfdan realised. He was a fool that he had ever thought he might be the Alfather’s equal. Now he would die, or be imprisoned as before; in either case, his companions would not be spared this time. There would be no rescue for Halfdan-Loki. He wondered if he would be sent asleep again, spared the knowledge of their demise, or if an eternity awaited him filled with waking sorrow.
Towering over the fallen berserker, Odin reached out a hand to grab him by the throat. His movement froze at the sound of metal striking metal. Standing by the far end, wielding a hammer with a broken wrist, Freydis winced in pain. But it was done.
An age ago, the Dwarves had laboured to create a chain like no other. Made from the sound of a cat’s footfall, women’s beards, mountain roots, bear sinews, fish breath, and bird spittle, the shackles would hold the strongest of captives. Should Thor himself bid all his strength, he could not break [Gleipnir], the chain that had held Fenrir imprisoned for a thousand years.
But the magic that dwelt within the [Heart of Yggdrasil] held true. What was made by Dwarven hand fell to pieces once touched by the hammer. The deed done, her arms shaking, Freydis released the weapon. Just as she had released Fenrir.
Finally unbound, the enormous wolf turned its yellow stare upon its captor, its fated foe, the god who would be devoured by its jaws when Ragnar?k came. At once, it leapt forward.
With a frustrated shriek, Odin disappeared in a cloud of black feathers and was gone.
*
While his flesh knitted itself back together, Halfdan got on his feet. Despite the ostensible victory, he feared that as one danger fled, the worst remained. In the flickering light of his rune token, lying to the side where Sif had dropped it, the berserker watched the shadows pass over the enormous jaws of Fenrir. The wolf growled and looked ready to swallow them all whole, now that its original prey had vanished.
Halfdan dearly wanted his hammer in hand, but he also feared making any moves, especially one that could be considered hostile. Was the wolf clever enough to recognise a weapon? And if it went for one of his companions, could Halfdan stop it? His strength rarely came up short, especially now enhanced by his other powers, but this might be one enemy stronger than him.
Freydis also stood without weapon; her spear lay far from her, and with her injured wrist, she could not be expected to raise Halfdan’s hammer again. Sif had proven her value with the sling, driving off Odin previously with one well-placed rock, but her weapon was also on the ground.
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The deep growl of a monstrous wolf made it clear that the former captive of this cave did not feel at ease either. Apparently, it felt no gratitude for its release or simply did not understand.
“Do you know me, creature?” Halfdan asked. This was something the prophecy had not taken into consideration, it seemed. Halfdan had inherited the powers and the fate of Loki, but not his relations. It was meant to be him standing in this place, freeing his monstrous child to make war on the Aesir. Presumably, the wolf would have recognised his scent. Now, it only saw a stranger – or worse, someone wearing the stolen feathers of its dead father.
Out of the corner of his eye, Halfdan noticed that Sif was moving forward. Good girl, getting her sling. And while he could not see it, he felt Freydis draw on her power to cloak herself in shadows, and he knew she would be inching towards her spear. He just needed to keep the wolf’s attention on him meanwhile.
“We are on your side,” he spoke. Perhaps if the beast could be reasoned with, there was no need for conflict. And if not, best they all were armed. “We released you. Your enemy, who just fled from your jaws, is also our enemy.” To his shock, he realised that Sif was not moving along the cave wall. She was walking directly towards the wolf. “What are you doing?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“He’s just scared, probably more than we are. He hasn’t seen a kind face or heard a kind word all these years, I bet.”
“He also hasn’t eaten all that time,” Halfdan hissed. “Step back!”
“I don’t think he’s malicious. Just mistreated.” She glanced at Halfdan. “You can look rather intimidating too, you know. But you’re not dangerous to people unless they deserve it.”
“Sif, step away.” He spoke as calmly as he could, concerned that raising his voice would provoke the beast, but he placed all the urgency he could in the tone of his voice.
Too late. The wolf lowered its head, bigger in size than all of Sif, and inspected her with both eyes and nose. Finally, it opened its mouth, revealing the rows of teeth that could rend a grown man apart with ease, and the beast ran its entire tongue across her face.
“That tickles!” she laughed. She reached out to scratch the wolf, only able to reach its cheek. After a moment, it lowered its entire body to lie on the ground, relaxing its posture.
Halfdan exhaled, and he would have yelled Sif’s ear off if he did not think it might raise tempers again. “Don’t you ever do something like that again,” he warned her, still not at ease. Any moment, he expected the wolf to change its demeanour and suddenly leap to eat them whole.
“I wasn’t worried,” the girl claimed, moving to scratch Fenrir behind the ear. “He and I have something in common.”
“You’re both trying to give me a heart attack?”
“We both have Loki for a father. We understand each other.”
Halfdan was in no mood to examine that statement. Behind him, Freydis approached, dragging his hammer along the ground with her uninjured hand, and he took the weapon from her while glancing at her injury. “I can help with that. Got my old tricks back.” Halfdan bent down, picked up a pebble, and borrowed Sif’s knife. With a quick carving and a burst of power, he created a healing stone and gave it to his priestess. Cautiously, she placed it against her broken bone and sighed in relief as the magic did its work.
“Can you make one more of those?” asked Sif.
He whipped his head around. “Are you hurt?”
“No, but Fen is. I think the chain was so tight, or maybe because he struggled against it, but he’s missing fur around his neck, and I think he has some old wounds.”
“Don’t give the giant wolf pet names,” Halfdan admonished her, picking up another pebble to repeat his work.
“But he is a pet.”
“No, he is one of the most dangerous beasts in all the nine realms.” And the only thing that Odin fears, he added silently, pleased at the thought. As he approached with the rune token, Fenrir began growling. “I guess you better do it,” he admitted, feeling meek for perhaps the first time in his adult life as he tossed the stone to Sif, who pressed it against his fur near the neck.
Fenrir released what might have been a contented sound – or maybe it was just his stomach rumbling. But he relaxed again, closing his eyes in what Halfdan knew to be an expression of trust among animals. He stepped closer to the wall, and though Fenrir opened one eye to look at the berserker, he did not move or change his stance; he allowed Halfdan to come close enough that he could reach out and scratch him behind the other ear. The sounds continued from the wolf, allowing Halfdan to feel reasonably certain they were not an expression of hunger. “You’re just a big dog, aren’t you? But they were so afraid of you, they chained you up, intent on keeping you prisoner forever. Well, I know exactly how that feels.”
“Let’s not forget he is dangerous as well,” Freydis warned them, “as Tyr and his missing hand can attest to. Not that I mind, given our own encounter with him.”
“We are keeping him, right?” Sif looked at the other two. “I mean, he’s coming with us, right? We’re not leaving him here or anything.”
“Considering how quickly Odin fled from him, I don’t think we have any choice.” Hearing the name, the wolf growled, and Halfdan caressed his head. “Believe me, I share the sentiment.”
“He may have fled, but he will send his servants. They don’t need to kill the wolf, after all. Just you – or take you prisoner. We should not linger in a place known to them,” Freydis pointed out. She had retrieved her spear and stood ready.
Halfdan nodded. “Agreed. Let’s get out of here. Sif, get him to follow us if you can.”
“Come on, boy.” She gestured for the wolf to get up and walk with them. With a whine, Fenrir did so, and for the first time in a thousand years, the wolf left the cave that had been his prison and entered the sunlight.
