“Did you think you could raid Njarðby and never answer for it?”
Sveinn twisted, maybe trying to run, but Thori struck him down with a lightning blast so powerful that it took out several of Sveinn’s warriors with him.
Sveinn fell, his corpse charred and smoking, his remaining men staring in shocked silence.
“Anyone else?” Thori asked, lightning still crackling around him. “Anyone who doesn’t surrender to Gylfa over there can taste my lightning.”
Njord felt a warm surge of pride and affection, almost like—no, he wouldn’t call it love. That would be stupid. And Thori was still his prisoner.
“Well done,” Njord said, putting a gentle hand on Thori’s shoulder.
Sveinn’s warriors scattered, some surrendering to Gylfa and her guard, others turning to the sea to be swallowed by the waves. The path to the cave was clear.
Njord turned toward the darkness. He could feel the hot springs deep in Nóatún’s belly, could sense the maze of tunnels that wound through the mountain’s roots. He’d explored some of them over the centuries, but never all. There were places even he had been reluctant to disturb.
Now he had no choice.
“Stay close,” he said to Thori and Skalmöld. “The caves beneath Nóatún are old.”
twenty-seven
The Bog Mother’s Hunger
Thori
The cave system beneath Nóatún was a nightmare of narrow passageways and endless, half-flooded tunnels. And while Njord and Skalmöld had no problems at all navigating the clammy darkness, Thori stumbled along, hating every second of it.
Skalmöld darted ahead, carrying a small sphere of greenish light to illuminate their path. Njord’s eyes reflected like a wolf’s in the darkness. Lord of the deep seas that he was, he found his way in the blackness without difficulty while Thori bumped into hidden obstacles constantly. Sensing his discomfort, Njord fell back and took Thori’s hand, guiding him.
A noble hostage, he’d called him in front of Sveinn. This meant not only a certain kind of protection but also the possibility of returning to Asgard one day. Thori couldn’t wrap his head around it.
The air around them grew colder with every step, and finally the tunnel ended in a narrow stone arch. Skalmöld stopped so suddenly they nearly collided with her.
“Skalmöld?”
She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide and confused in a way Thori had never seen her.
“What’s going on?” Njord demanded.
Instead of answering, the seeress stepped through the arch and into the room beyond, perfectly circular and illuminated by marshlights dancing over still water.
“There’s a flooded shaft in the center of this room,” Skalmöld said, her voice echoing. “It plunges straight down to where the Bog Mother hides.”
She hesitated, the air around her crackling withseiðr.
“Vellamo is down there.”
She turned to them, her eyes blazing bright as stars.
Thori stumbled as powerfulseiðrpeeled away from Skalmöld like a dragoness shedding her skin. The glamor around her unraveled in shimmering threads, not unlike the spell Njord had used to pose as Norrin Stormtamer, only a hundred times more powerful, and the woman who emerged—
“Ahti,” Njord breathed.
She didn’t look much different, still the tall, broad-shouldered shieldmaiden she’d always been, but it was as if Thori was seeing her clearly for the first time. The sharp features. The long, brown hair. The resemblance to Njord undeniable.
“Vellamo is down there,” she repeated.
“Where have you been?” Njord asked. “Why didn’t you reveal yourself?”
