He called to the creatures of the deep, and the whales answered, great gray shapes surging up from the depths. They breached beneath the ships, their massive bodies damaging the hulls and making the longships rock dangerously.
Svanhild’svölurtried to counter his wrath, but they were powerless against the unleashed ocean. Desperately, they tried to guide the remaining ships to Nóatún’s rocky shore to escape the carnage. Most of them shattered on the cliffs, but a few made it to a rocky outcrop.
“They are trying to reach the caves.”
Skalmöld landed light-footedly next to them, carried down the battlements by sea winds and salty foam. Thori was already trying to run after them, but this time Njord was faster, catching him around the waist and pulling him back against his chest.
“You’re not going alone this time.”
“Didn’t I handle the giant just fine?”
Foolish, proud little god.
“You fought brilliantly,” Njord said, kissing Thori’s temple. “I’ll commission a skald to sing about your deeds myself. But we’ll face Svanhild and Sveinn together, understood?”
Blushing a lovely shade of pink under the mud stains on his face, Thori stopped his attempts to twist away, leaning against Njord instead. So starved for praise, for genuine affection.
“Understood.”
The survivors of Sveinn’s fleet scrambled onto the rocks like drowned rats clawing their way from the sinking ships. Njord counted perhaps two dozen warriors, less than he’d expected. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile; his sea was hungry, and it rose against Nóatún’s foes.
“Stay close to me,” Njord said, earning unanimous eye rolls from Thori and Skalmöld.
But they followed him across the slippery rocks to where Sveinn’s remaining warriors started forming a defensive line at the mouth of the cave. They looked haggard, soaked through, but they clutched their weapons with grim determination. Behind them, Njord could just make out Svanhild’s pale hair and the shadows of hervölurmelting into the darkness, retreating further into the cave.
“Shipbreaker!” Sveinn stepped forward from the shield wall. His expensive armor looked ridiculous, dripping muddy seawater and covered in algae. “You think drowning my fleet makes you victorious? Svanhild will wake the Goddess of the Bog, and your precious fortress and every living soul on this rock will be swallowed by the march!”
“Then she’ll have to wake her quickly,” Njord said. “Because you won’t slow me down.”
Sveinn drew his sword. “Come on then, sea witch. Let’s—”
“No.”
Thori stepped forward, thunder rumbling above them and Elm’s fire dancing across his armor and along the blade of his ax.
“I promised I’d be the one to kill you, remember?”
Sveinn paled. “You’d let your thrall fight for you, Njord?”
“He’s not a thrall.” Njord relished the look of wide-eyed surprise on Thori’s face and backed up his claim by letting Thori feel that he had full access to his thunder, his lightning, to the power of Njord’s storms if he wanted to. “He’s a noble hostage. And if he asks me for your head, who am I to deny him?”
The sweetness of Thori’s smile was in stark contrast to his deadly bearing, and Njord realized with certain clarity that he always wanted Thori like this: satisfied, getting everything he wanted, happy.
“May I?” Thori asked, only for Njord’s ears.
“Make it quick.”
Thori was already running.
Njord shared a look with Skalmöld, and she winked at him, already chanting to keep Sveinn’s warriors at bay and allow Thori to focus on his fight.
A thunder crack split the air, and Thori let himself be carried by his lightning. Sveinn stumbled, momentarily blinded, and Thori crashed into him, his ax buried into Sveinn’s shoulder, tearing through the protective runes etched into his armor like they were nothing.
Sveinn screamed.
“Did you really think you could get away with treating me like a thrall?” Thori snarled.
He ripped the ax free and struck again, this time catching Sveinn’s sword arm. Njord heard the satisfying sound of bone splintering under the assault.
