Thor's Serpents (22 page)

Again the squirrel vanished under the ground.

The eagle swooped low enough that a gust of air from its wings made several Raiders stumble. No one seemed overly concerned, although the Raiders were moving closer to Fen. He wasn’t sure if they were intending to protect him or hoping he’d protect
them
.

When the earth started to break open a third time, Fen’s irritation boiled over. “That’s it! Someone make that…”

His words dried up as the ground rumbled. Dirt and rubble scattered like shots as an enormous white reptilian head came to the surface.

“You were saying?” Skull muttered from his left-hand side.

“… squirrel shut up,” Fen murmured.

“That’s not a squirrel.”

Fen shot a glance at his second in command. “You think?”

The snake’s vibrant blue tongue flicked out, tasting the air like any snake would. It might be acting like an average reptile, but it sure didn’t look like one. Slithering out of a vast hole was the strangest creature Fen could imagine, like some sort of zombie snake with wings but twice as long as a reticulated python. The enormous, more than forty-foot-long snake was white like bone, and it moved toward him with the rustling sound of dried grass like on the South Dakota prairie.

“I thought Astrid was the Midgard Serpent that Matt has to fight,” Fen said quietly.

Skull raised his eyebrows in surprise—either at the revelation or that Fen said it aloud. He didn’t say anything, so Fen continued a little louder, “If she’s the serpent, what’s
that
?”

The trolls and the Raiders who were in human form all laughed.

“Nidhogg,” Skull said. “Eater of corpses. It gnaws on Yggdrasil, the world tree.” He gestured at the dog-sized squirrel. “That’s Ratatoskr. He carries the eagle’s insults to Nidhogg.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And at Ragnarök, Nidhogg kills Thor’s son.”

Fen tore his gaze from Nidhogg, who was now hissing at the eagle. “I thought the Midgard Serpent killed him?”

“No,” Hattie clarified. “The Midgard Serpent kills
Thor.
”

“Well, that’s clear as mud.” Fen snorted. “What do we do with it?”

The oversized snake turned its slitted eyes on Fen and flicked its weird blue tongue out close enough that Fen gagged. He thought he’d smelled the worst stench when he’d faced the cave bear on the way out of Hel, but this was a whole new level of nasty.

“Corpse eater,” Skull reminded Fen, who turned away from the smell, choking.

Nidhogg turned its mammoth body away from Fen and started slithering toward the rocks where Laurie was. The rest of the troops followed. All Fen could do was go with the monsters. To do otherwise would be horrible for the pack. With these odds, there was no way that switching sides could be in the
wulfenkind
’s best interest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered to his friends, although there was no way that Laurie or Baldwin or Owen could hear him.

The trolls and wolves all around him sped up, and he knew he couldn’t let this happen. There had to be a compromise, a way not to hurt Laurie or the kids at her side. Even though he disliked Owen, even he didn’t deserve the slaughter headed toward him faster and faster.

“Take them prisoner,” he blurted out.

“What?” Hattie screeched.

“There are, like,
three
kids,” Fen continued. “It’s not even a battle. It’s a massacre.”

Yips and growls came from some of the wolves.

He looked around at them and all but snarled his next words. “If anyone hurts my cousin, there
will
be consequences.”

“Not wolf,” a troll grumbled. “Not listen. Will crush enemy.”

Before Fen could try again to argue that taking prisoners made more sense, Owen’s seemingly endless crowd of fighting clowns arrived. There was no way he could convince his side to take Laurie and the others prisoners now. The
Berserkers were already hurtling into fights as they started the skirmish with the monsters.

Fen growled and gave in to the inevitable. He launched himself into battle with the rest of the wolves, swinging fists at Berserkers and trying to reach Laurie. He knew he could fight his wolves, but he hoped that they would obey his orders. There was no way that he’d let a troll or anyone else hurt her, though.

I’ll throw Berserkers in their path if they try.

As far as plans went, it wasn’t any worse than most of his fight strategies.

“Be on the lookout for the goats,” he called out.

“Snacks!” ground out a troll.

“Where?” asked another, scanning the crevices in search of the pants-biting beasts. “Where?”

If the enemy won this battle, it wouldn’t be because of superior intellect.

“The goats aren’t here yet,” he clarified for the trolls. “They fight for Thorsen, though.”

“Yum,” a troll said.

“Hi,” Baldwin called as he clambered up a troll cheerily. He waved at Fen. “Sorry you turned to the dark side, but I don’t really want to fight you.”

Fen smothered a groan and punched a Berserker. That, he could do. In fact, if he was going to have to fight on the wrong side, he thought he might take a little fun in it.
He didn’t mind hitting the boy who seemed to be pursuing Laurie. If Fen had to fight someone, it was going to be Owen.

After a quick glance to see that Laurie wasn’t in immediate danger, Fen scanned the crowd, looking for blue hair as he kicked, growled, and punched.

Several Berserkers later, Fen was feeling full of energy and standing eye-to-eye with Owen.

“Fate can’t always be avoided,” the one-eyed boy said calmly.

Fen snorted. “Especially when you hide what you know.”

“True. Here we are, though. It was fated.” He spread his feet and took a boxer’s stance. “I’m not surprised.”

“Who does Odin fight at Ragnarök?” Fen had a suspicion that he knew the answer.

“Fenrir.”

Fen laughed in a mix of amusement and bitterness. “No wonder you tried to turn Laurie against me. Do I need to guess who wins?”

Owen swung. Fen ducked and returned a punch of his own.

“They both lose eventually,” Owen said.

“I’m not going to lose,” Fen promised. “This”—he swung and hit Owen in the mouth—“is for trying to make Laurie doubt me.”

No more words were exchanged as they fought on.

Fen had to give Owen credit: he was more than an average fighter. Fen had been getting into scrapes since he could stand. It was just how his childhood was. Owen, however, didn’t go down easy, and when Fen did knock him to the ground, he popped back on his feet in some sort of gymnastic move that Fen envied—not that he ever intended to tell Owen that.

“Son of Loki,” said a voice behind him.

He turned, taking a one-two punch to the head as a result of the distraction, and there stood Helen.

He grunted and shot a dirty look at Owen. The boy simply smiled at him.

“That’s not a very polite greeting,” Helen pointed out as he spat blood from his mouth.

Before he could reply, she looked away and fixed on Laurie approaching from across the field of battle. “I am here to honor my promise. In the myths of old, they say Hel opened wide, and I brought my forces to fight for Father Loki.”

“I know,” Fen said quietly.

It seemed likely that Helen’s arrival was either very good or very bad. Her dress, which had been covered in insects when he last saw her, had been replaced with a long white coat that seemed to writhe. She lifted an arm like she was
going to hug him—and he realized that she was draped in some sort of tattered shroud that was crawling with maggots.

All around them, fights stopped as both sides realized that Helen was standing in their midst.

“She is Loki’s champion,” Helen said in a raised voice, motioning to Laurie with one maggot-covered arm. “And I will do as my father would have: I fight on the side of his champion.”

Still, no one moved.

“Nephew,” Helen murmured meaningfully as Laurie reached them. “You appear to be on the losing side.”

“The losing—”

If she had picked me
, Fen realized,
we’d have won, and the world would end.
She hadn’t, though. The ruler of Hel, Loki’s daughter, had chosen
Laurie
to back—and Helen’s idea of support was to bring forth the monsters that lived in her domain.

“Hi, Helen! Best. Fight. EVER,” Baldwin yelled as he ran by to launch himself at Nidhogg.

Helen smiled and shook her head. “He has a fondness for snakes. Something about a snake garden?”

Fen laughed. “Maybe we could take a field trip back to Reptile Gardens after the world doesn’t end.”

“It still might end,” Helen said. “We’ll tend to these creatures, but Thor’s child has to deal with the Midgard Serpent on his own.” She gave Fen a smile that looked unnervingly
like Laurie’s and confided, “Father Loki never suggested that
his
children must play by the rules, though. Rules are more suggestions to work around than absolutes to obey, according to Father Loki.”

She lifted her hands and the earth split open in wide gorges.

“Pick your side, nephew.”

Garm was at the front of the line of monsters emerging from the fissures. The immense dog met Fen’s eyes and said, in a reference to their first conversation back in Hel, “This is not play, either, but it will be fun.”

Since he was in human form, Fen was surprised that he understood Garm, but now that he was alpha of the wolves, this seemed to have changed, too. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”

Garm offered a toothy smile.

Fen watched as the fire Jotunn stepped out of the cracks and various dead warriors pulled their rotting bodies out of the earth. The myth had made clear that Helen had brought her forces to fight on Loki’s side, but with two champions, it had never been clear
which
champion she’d back. They’d hoped that it would be Laurie, but until this moment, they couldn’t be sure—and Helen had never committed for certain.

With a giant grin, Fen looked at the
wulfenkind
. “Helen fights to stop the world from ending. The tide has turned.
As your alpha, I tell you that we will fight
with
my Aunt Helen—as in the myth.” He met Skull’s gaze and added, “It’s what’s best for our pack.” Then he looked at his cousin, who was smiling at him with the happiest expression he’d seen in a long time, and added, “Our pack will be on the
right
side.”

Skull yelled, “You heard our alpha!”

The wolves immediately stopped fighting the Berserkers.

Fen strolled over to stand beside Laurie. “Which should we take first? A troll, another Jotunn, or the big creepy snake?”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “Jerk. I saw you fighting Owen.”

“No boys allowed near you. Your dad made me promise,” Fen said. When she gave him an “oh really” look, Fen added, “Plus, I don’t like him.”

Laurie rolled her eyes. “Come on. Monsters to fight. I’ll yell at you later.”

He wasn’t sure if they’d stop the world from ending or not, but it was a lot less scary now that he was beside his best friend. “Snake first.”

M
att lay facedown on rock. Cold dark surrounded him. The moans and screams of the dead filled his ears.

I’m in Hel. No Valhalla for me. Straight to Hel with all the people I doomed to death when I let the serpent win. When—

Something tugged at the back of his jeans. Pulling at the waistband. He flew up, Mjölnir in hand. Then he heard a bleat. A hard butt in the rear knocked him forward into something solid and warm and covered with soft hair. Another bleat. Another butt in the butt.

Matt blinked hard. The darkness lifted and the cold dissipated, and he found himself standing in a wide crevasse
amidst jagged rocks. Except… the rocks rested on ground level and only reached to his head.

What had happened?

Mara.

A third bleat, impatient now, and he turned to see a snow-white goat with golden horns and black spots under its eyes.

“Hey, Tanngrisnir.” He hugged the goat. When he realized what he was doing, he pulled back fast, but Tanngnjóstr pushed forward, clearly expecting the same greeting his brother got. Matt gave it to him—after checking to be sure no one was watching.

“Thanks for the wake-up call, guys,” he said. He grabbed the edge of the rock and hoisted himself up for a careful look around. “Mara cleared out?”

Tanngrisnir snorted, as if to say
Of course.

“Lead the way, then,” he said.

Tanngrisnir showed him the best path out of the rocks, while Tanngnjóstr brought up the rear. After a few yards of picking through rocks, Matt could see the battlefield. Hear it, too, in the distance.

“How far did I wander?” he said.

Tanngrisnir bleated.

“Yeah, far enough, obviously. Okay, well, since I doubt you guys brought Thor’s chariot…”

He trailed off, thinking of Thor’s Chariot in the nightmare.
The end of the world. The end of him and everything and everyone else. He shivered. Tanngnjóstr rubbed against him.

Matt nodded. “No time for that, I know. My job is to make sure that’s one nightmare that never comes true. Let’s get moving—”

Tanngrisnir reared up, his golden hooves pawing the air. Then he fell. Right at Matt’s feet. Fell with an arrow through his throat.

“No!” Matt dropped beside the goat. Tanngnjóstr leaped over him with a wild snort and Matt looked up to see the goat charging—

It was charging a draugr. One armed with a bow and nocking an arrow to fire at the goat. Matt shouted “No! They’re with me!” and as the words left his mouth he realized the futility of them. Of course the goats were with him. The draugr had to know that Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr were sacred beasts.

Matt launched Mjölnir. It slammed into the draugr and knocked it back, bones shattering, but it was too late. The arrow struck Tanngnjóstr in the throat. The goat went down. Matt raced forward, catching Mjölnir without even thinking. He ran and skidded to his knees beside his goat, its golden eyes wide as blood poured from its throat.

Matt buried his hands in the goat’s long fur.

“You’re immortal,” he whispered. “You’re supposed to come back.”

The goat lay there, still and silent.

At a noise, Matt leaped up. A draugr strode forward, flanked by two others. It was taller than the rest, with tangled reddish yellow hair and a long matted beard, one side of its face had rotted to bare skull. This was no anonymous dead warrior. This one Matt knew. This one Matt had fought. Fought and defeated and watched Helen exile to Hel.

“Glaemir,” Matt said.

The former king of the draugrs smiled. “Did you think you’d won that easily, Matthew Thorsen?”

“How did you—?”

“Escape?” A rotting-flesh grin. “It is Ragnarök. Everything that wishes to escape can. I had help.” Glaemir waved and a half dozen draugrs appeared from the dust. The half dozen who’d stayed behind with Matt when the Valkyries rode off.

“Some of my men are still loyal to me,” Glaemir said. “And still loyal to my cause. Which, sadly, is not yours. Now, I believe my men heard you say you wished a warm-up fight?”

Eight draugrs clanked their weapons against their shields and stood at attention.

“Enough of a warm-up for you, boy?” Glaemir said. “I think so. In fact, I think it will be such a warm-up that you’ll never see the battle ring.”

At Glaemir’s signal, his men charged. Matt ran. That
was the only thing to do when faced with a troop of undead warriors on open ground. Behind him, Glaemir whooped with laughter.

“There is your champion. A little boy who runs away. Fitting, I think.”

Matt jumped over Tanngnjóstr’s still body and then Tanngrisnir’s, trying not to think about the dead goats. He raced into the rocks, wound around two smaller ones, and found the place where he’d woken, ringed by stone. He stopped there and backed against one rock.

When the first draugr ripped around the corner, Matt started counting to five. He’d barely reached two before a second draugr appeared. Matt launched Mjölnir. It slammed into the first, knocking it backward against the second and ramming both into the rocks behind them.

The impact of hammer against bone? It wasn’t pretty. There was cracking and crunching and shattering, and then two draugrs on the ground, in pieces, as Mjölnir whacked into Matt’s outstretched hand. Another draugr appeared. Matt counted, but at four he realized he couldn’t wait any longer and threw it.

The hammer hit its target just as another draugr came around the corner, too far to catch the impact and too close for Matt to wait for Mjölnir’s return. He hurled his magical Hammer. That only knocked the draugr off balance. By then, Mjölnir was on its way back, and it slammed the draugr in the side of the head. Matt flinched at the cracking of the warrior’s skull as it fell.