The splashing continued.
Something huge moved through the fog, not unlike a longship cutting through the water.
Reaching for a weapon on his belt, Thori found he was unarmed.
He took a couple more uncertain steps.
The sound occurred again. It seemed to circle him like a pack of wolves closing in on their prey.
“Who’s there?”
No answer. Only the unnerving vastness of gray fog and dark moor.
Was there still a pathway to follow?
He couldn’t see it anymore.
Thori reached for his thunder, but he couldn’t get a grip on it.
Only weak sparks danced across his fingertips before dying out completely.
What was happening to him?
“You’ve been poisoned.”
Spinning around, he nearly lost his footing on the slippery ground.
She was almost invisible in the mist, her bluish-white scales blending into the background, but the ice-blue eyes shining in her gigantic face were unmistakable.
He was looking at Jökull, Njord’s dreadful ice-dragon.
“Am I dead?”
It was the only reasonable explanation. He had killed Jökull years ago during that fateful raid his father had ordered.
“No, little one.” Her voice was full of sympathy he didn’t deserve. “Don’t worry. He won’t let you die.”
He?
“I’m not allowed to bring you all the way, but I can accompany you to the threshold.”
Her words were confusing and illogical. This whole strange dreamland didn’t make any sense.
“This is the land between the realms, Thori of the thunder. You’ve passed through many times when you sailed the hron-rad, traveling from one world to another.”
“But—how did I get here?”
She bared her teeth in a dragonish smile.
“Svanhild. She’s still trying to feed off your power. But we’ll thwart her plan. Come.”
“What in Hel’s name am I supposed to do?” Thori growled, exhausted and therefore angry. “There is nothing around us but moor and fog!”
Her rumbling laughter echoed over the bog, putting Thori even more on edge.
“Climb onto my back. Njord is waiting for you.”
Was she serious?
