He’d met Njord, hadn’t he? Disguised as Norrin Stormtamer, he’d bought Thori as a thrall.
Surely he wanted Thori alive so he could get his revenge, and that meant Thori would have a chance to escape. But perhaps the most honorable thing to do would be to grant him his retribution. The raid had been a mistake that Thori didn’t want to dwell on.
“Now don’t delay. I won’t bite.”
A wave of regret washed over Thori. He’d set out to do the Allfather’s bidding, to rid the Nine Worlds of a greater threat as he’d done so many times before. He hadn’t known Jökull would be there. He hadn’t known she’d been a…person.
But there was no use dwelling on the faults of his past.
The dragoness’ scales were slippery, so he clambered onto her back less than gracefully. But he managed.
“Are you seated securely?”
“Yes.”
“Then hold on tightly. I want to show you something.”
Before Thori could respond, she took flight, dashing along close above the ground. He clung to the ridges protecting her neck, and although he was tired and in pain, he couldn’t help but enjoy the flight. Soon she climbed higher, and the fog lifted. The moor shrank underneath them and merged into the endless expanse of the open sea. The white of the sea ice shimmered on the horizon. She flew toward a coast far to the north, and when a huge glacier and the dark mountains surrounding it came into view, Thori almost slipped off her back.
He was looking at Asgard. The desolate mountains up north. Uninhabited but for a few hermits and the odd mountain giant.
“Why are we here?” Thori shouted over the rushing of the wind.
“There isn’t much time left. Can you see the mouth of that cave over there?”
The glacier was glimmering below them now, and she was flying higher towards the black mountains. Thori could make out what might be a cave, a gloomy opening against the dark rocks.
“Yes, I see it! But why are we here? Why are you showing me this?”
Something wasn’t right. The flapping of her wings became more laboured, and dusk was gathering quickly on the horizon.
“Jökull?”
“We might not see each other again in this life, Thori Odinsson. I want you to remember that cave, and if you shall ever feel the need to repay your debt to Njord, then you can bring him what lies hidden in there.”
“He’s my enemy! He had the audacity to enthrall me! I’d never—”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he had the feeling that he was falling, and fast.
Yelping, he twisted, his body trying to brace itself for the inevitable impact.
“Shh, I’ve got you.”
No impact.
Though his vision was once again obscured by fog, the dreadful feeling of free fall had subsided. Thori groaned. There were arms around his chest, a steadying presence behind him, holding him upright, keeping him safe.
“What?”
He could barely speak, his voice failing him. The dragoness was gone, as was the coldness of the vision. Sweat was gathering at his temples now, and a humid warmth surrounded him.
“It’s okay. It was nothing but a bad dream.”
The voice was familiar, and by now it felt almost soothing.
“Njord?”
He found himself submerged in a large tub someone had set up inside a sweating hut. The hut filled with steam from the warm stones, and the water was perfect for soothing his aches. A deep sigh moved the broad chest he was leaning against. Gods, Njord had climbed into the bath with him, keeping him afloat.
