They began walking again. Dolgthrasir was unconvinced. After a short while, they reached the barracks. ‘Well, Tanngrisnir,’ he said. ‘Let us see if you can rally the troops.’

  * * * * *

  ‘The journey will take at least three days,’ Eikinskialdi told them.

  Hal and his companions were in a courtyard to one side of Sindri’s Hall, preparing for the journey. Dwarf servants had brought them backpacks full of rations and equipment, and they were investigating them. Eikinskialdi had also requested the largest of the ponies in the stables to be saddled and ready for them. Eric was surveying them with some trepidation.

  ‘They’re a bit small,’ he said finally.

  It was true. Although larger than most of the dwarves’ mounts, which were all the size of Shetland ponies, the four creatures the stable-hands had brought out were by no means large. Hal remembered the journey with Althiof. But this would be a lot longer.

  ‘Why are there only four of them?’ he asked suddenly.

  Eikinskialdi seemed unwilling to speak. A dwarf rushed into the courtyard. ‘The swart-elves are on the move!’ he reported. ‘They have burned the outlying settlements. Refugees stream in from the north!’

  Seeming glad of the interruption, Eikinskialdi turned to the messenger. ‘Where are these refugees?’ he asked. ‘We must set up accommodation for them, for the duration of the assault.’

  ‘This way.’ The messenger led Eikinskialdi through an arch.

  Hal frowned. ‘I asked him a question.’

  ‘The dwarves must be suffering terribly,’ Ilmadis murmured. ‘The poor folk always suffer most in war.’

  Gwen turned to her, and touched her gently on the arm. ‘We’ll make sure the war is soon over,’ she told the elf-girl.

  Hal was going from pony to pony, tightening straps here, and lightening loads there. It brought back memories of the old days on the farm, the never-ending round of chores. He felt a lump in his throat.

  Eric studied the map. ‘You realise we don’t know what faces us in Niflheim,’ he remarked to everyone. ‘We don’t know at all.’

  ‘Doubtless doom, death, and destruction,’ Mordis croaked from the corner, where she was fussing over her pet wolves.

  ‘Well, that’s encouraging!’ Eric replied. ‘But I think that’s what this place has in store. The swart-elves are practically on the doorstep, and we’ve got three days to go into another world, find some magic cloaks that might not be there, and we don’t really know where we’re going. Oh, and the place could be infested with trolls. Are the dwarves really going to hold the swart-elves back long enough, anyway?’

  Hal, halfway through transferring a saddlebag from one pony to another, looked up. ‘Tanngrisnir’s leading them,’ he said. ‘He’s a cunning warrior, by all accounts - and from what we’ve seen. He’ll keep them off.’

  ‘The sooner we get going, the better,’ Gwen said. ‘Where’s Eikinskialdi got to?’

  ‘Here he comes,’ Eric replied.

  The dwarf was returning through the archway. With him were Dvalinn and Brokk, and a group of guards. ‘The swart-elves are no more than a few leagues from our position,’ he told them. ‘It is imperative that you set out immediately.’ He hesitated, and looked at his companions.

  ‘We are prepared to forge the Runeblade,’ Dvalinn told them, ‘as soon as the swart-elves have been repulsed. However, we have one request to make…’

  ‘Great,’ Hal said hurriedly, then paused. ‘Request? Look, we’re ready to move. Can’t it wait?’

  Brokk shook his head. ‘We cannot stake our people’s lives on the success of your mission,’ he said bluntly. ‘We must have other forms of... insurance.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Hal replied impatiently, ‘but you just said we need to be going. This is no time to discuss insurance policies.’

  ‘You may go at once,’ Eikinskialdi said, ‘but we insist that Princess Mordis remains with us.’

  Mordis gazed levelly at him. ‘For what reason?’ she asked coldly.

  ‘Yes, why?’ Hal demanded. ‘The Princess comes with us.’

  Eikinskialdi shook his head sadly. ‘I am sorry to have to make this demand…’ he began.

  ‘We need her as a hostage,’ Brokk broke in. ‘If the swart-elves defeat us before you return, we will use her for bargaining with them. Even though she has joined her ancestral enemies, she has her uses. They will be slow to attack if we threaten her life.’

  ‘What!’ Mordis snarled. ‘You vile little fiend!’

  ‘This is… dishonourable,’ Hal complained. ‘Tanngrisnir always told me that dwarves are honourable folk.’

  ‘Indeed we are,’ Eikinskialdi replied sadly. ‘But you see the position we are in. The swart-elves threaten us with extinction. They mean to kill us all, or force us from this world. We are desperate. I do not like to use such underhand methods, but the Princess’ coming hither was a great stroke of fortune.’

  ‘Ever since we came here you have manipulated us!’ Mordis spat. ‘We were going into Niflheim only because otherwise you refused to forge Hal’s sword.’

  ‘We cannot forge the sword if the swart-elves attack us,’ Dvalinn said mildly.

  ‘And now you intend to hold me hostage, because you think it will give you a hold over my cousin!’ Mordis added. ‘Why? As you keep saying, I am a renegade. I have left my people - I had to, through no great wish of my own.’ But her eyes turned to Hal as she spoke, and softened a little. ‘What makes you think they will care if I live or die? In their eyes, I’m a traitor.’

  ‘You are a Princess of the blood royale,’ Eikinskialdi said firmly. ‘Even if you have abandoned your folk, they will not wish to see you… harmed.’

  ‘From what I’ve seen of the swart-elves they’re a cold, callous bunch,’ Eric argued. ‘No disrespect intended, Mordis. How do you know they won’t just say “kill her, then”, and attack you?’

  The three dwarves exchanged glances; Eikinskialdi pained, Dvalinn sorrowful, Brokk scowling. ‘We do not know anything for certain,’ Dvalinn said slowly. ‘But as Eikinskialdi said, we are desperate. This is another chance for our people.’

  Hal flung down the saddlebag he was holding and stamped away angrily, aware that the others were watching him in silence.

  The Princess was right. These dwarves had manipulated them from the moment they came here. He should have known - Althiof had been no better. They were using him as their tool - Mordis as well. Why should Mordis be kept prisoner, held hostage? It wasn’t her fault the swart-elves were attacking! And why should the rest of them endanger themselves in Niflheim, with hardly any idea of what faced them? The dwarves were using them!

  A superior army faced them, and they were desperate, like they said. But it wasn’t fair that they should take advantage of Hal and his friends. He would have been happy to help them out, if they had just asked him. All this blackmail and manipulation! It made Hal sick. Why should he let them pull his strings? What was in it for him, when it came down to it? The Runeblade! Well, why should he care? He had never wanted to be wielder of the Runeblade. It was something else that had been thrust upon him.

  By Gangrel.

  He had abandoned Gangrel, probably to his death. He had flown off, leaving the old man to fight the fire giant. Even though he was still in the dark about the whole business, Hal was going to do what Gangrel had intended. He owed it to the old man.

  Hal came back to the others. The dwarves were waiting. His friends looked at him questioningly.

  Hal turned to Mordis. ‘Princess…’ he said awkwardly.

  ‘I knew it!’ she flared. ‘You’re going to ask me to stay behind!’

  ‘There’s no other way!’ Hal said. ‘They’ve put us in an impossible situation. I can’t ask you to stay here, with them holding you hostage… but if you don’t…’

  ‘If I don’t, what?’ Mordis demanded. She turned to the dwarves. ‘What do you intend to do if I refuse?’ she asked haughtily. ‘How can you stop me going?’


  The dwarf guards lowered their halberds and menaced her. Eikinskialdi looked unhappy. ‘If you will not do as we ask, we must reinforce our request with steel,’ he replied.

  Mordis glared at him, and then at Hal, who looked rueful. Her shoulders slumped. ‘Go on, then,’ she said. ‘We have no other choice.’

  Gwen hugged her. ‘Thanks, Morbid,’ she said. ‘You’re a pal!’

  ‘Get off me, human,’ Mordis spat. ‘Go on, all of you. Go and have an adventure, while I frowst around with these grubby little fellows.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Princess,’ Hal began.

  ‘Go!’ Mordis snapped.

  Hal, Eric, Gwen and Ilmadis mounted their ponies. Looking down at the dwarf chieftains, Hal said:

  ‘We’ll be back as soon as we can. I hope Tanngrisnir holds off the swart-elves in the meantime. Treat the Princess well, won’t you? And Princess…’

  ‘Go away!’ Mordis snarled, searching for something to throw at him.

  Hal shrugged. He dug in his heels and rode from the courtyard, followed by his three companions. Their hooves clattered on the cobbles and echoed as they passed under the archway.

  Then they were gone.

  ‘Princess,’ Eikinskialdi said, ‘we have chambers prepared for you…’

  ‘I’d rather remain here,’ Mordis replied, stroking Ylg.

  ‘Princess,’ the dwarf chieftain repeated gently. ‘Do you think you have any choice?’

  Mordis drew herself up, and looked down at him. ‘Very well,’ she said icily. ‘But my wolves must come with me.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Dvalinn. ‘You are our guest.’

  ‘I am your prisoner,’ Mordis corrected him. ‘Lead me to my dungeon!’

  The guards took her away.

  * * * * *

  ‘We are fighting for our lives!’ Tanngrisnir bellowed.

  He stood in the yard outside the barracks. Ranked before him were the troops of the dwarven army; long lines of foot soldiers bearing swords, axes, spears, war-hammers or war-mattocks; there were archers and arbalesters, slingers and skirmishers; light cavalry on swift ponies, mailed dwarf-knights on heavy ponies with barded armour. All listened intently to his words, while Dolgthrasir and other captains sat beside him.

  ‘I have battled the swart-elves for many years,’ Tanngrisnir continued. ‘They are strong and cunning, steeped in wickedness and evil. But they are not invincible. And although they have been reinforced by aerial troops from Muspellzheim, I can assure you that within days we will receive aerial reinforcements of our own, to counter the threat.

  ‘But in the meanwhile, they march upon our lands, sending our folk into flight. We must go out to do battle with them, hold them off - defeat them if we can - and keep them from Aurvangar. If we can do so long enough for our reinforcements to arrive, then we will be able to crush them! The battle will be long and hard, but remember for what we fight, valiant Sons of Lofar - our families, our folk, and our freedom!’

  The troops roared their approval of his words.

  ‘Lead us!’ they shouted. ‘Lead us into war, Tanngrisnir! For our families, our folk, and our freedom!’

  Tanngrisnir looked down at the jubilant army, and sighed inwardly. For all his oratory, his heart sank at the thought of the coming struggle. Three days in which to stave off the swart-elf advance - three days, with luck!

  Hal and the others were riding into unknown peril. They might never return. And he faced certain danger - the unconquered army of Prince Helgrim; swart-elves, dwarves, trolls and dragons. How could his own forces hope to keep them at bay, let alone defeat them?

  ‘Family, folk, and freedom!’ the dwarves roared. Tanngrisnir and the other captains mounted their steeds, and led the dwarven army from the town.

  5 INTO THE FRAY

  Curtains of freezing fog hung on either bank as Hal and his companions rode up-river. They seemed to be growing thicker.

  The mist did strange things to sound, Hal noticed uneasily. The clatter and splash of the ponies’ hooves echoed back, muffled and distorted, from the fog-shrouded higher ground above either bank, sometimes giving him the impression that groups of horsemen were riding by, hidden in the wet, swirling fog.

  It glistened on the ponies’ flanks like dew. It speckled the travellers’ saddlebags and clothes. It was cold, dank, and unpleasant. And beyond the mist lay only darkness.

  ‘Lovely day,’ Eric said loudly, the first of them to speak for miles. They had ridden down the muddy bank in silence ever since they left Aurvangar. Obviously Eric thought it was time he raised their spirits.

  ‘What’s lovely about it?’ Gwen grumbled.

  ‘Well, at least we’re going somewhere,’ Hal said with forced optimism. ‘Away from those dwarves. Are they all so … so conniving?’ He turned in his saddle to look at Ilmadis.

  She shrugged. ‘The only dwarves I have known were allies of the swart-elves,’ she replied. ‘They were evil, as you would expect…’

  ‘Well, I don’t think this lot are much better,’ Hal complained. ‘They’re so grasping and manipulative.’

  ‘They certainly weren’t like this in Snow White,’ Eric said in agreement. ‘But what about Tanngrisnir?’

  Hal grunted. ‘He’s different,’ he replied. ‘He’s a dwarf with a sense of honour.’

  ‘They have different kindreds, don’t they?’ Gwen asked. ‘Some are smiths, others are warriors. Eikinskialdi wasn’t so bad, I reckon. It was the other two. Especially that Brokk.’

  They rode on in silence.

  ‘And now they’ve got us going into another world,’ Hal said suddenly. ‘A world no-one knows anything about, after a treasure that might have been looted hundreds of years ago. And the whole place could be infested with trolls. What are trolls like?’

  Ilmadis shuddered by way of reply.

  ‘Big scaly creatures,’ Gwen added. ‘The fire giant had a bodyguard of them.’

  ‘They are half-beast,’ Ilmadis replied. ‘The giants use them as shock troops or slaves. They are too savage and unintelligent to do anything else. Without the giants organising them, most live in caves and eat anything or anyone who goes past.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Eric said laconically. They rode on into the mist.

  After a few more miles, they paused to eat on the edge of a small lake. Hal chewed thoughtfully on a strip of dried meat. ‘How much further?’

  Eric produced the map, and unrolled it. ‘We must be about… here,’ he said, pointing at an area where the Gioll broadened into a lake. ‘Not far from the borders of Niflheim. Look! That line of cliffs. That’s where Svartalfaheim ends and the journey into Niflheim begins, as far as I can tell.’

  Ilmadis looked at the map. ‘That’s right,’ she murmured, reading the runic script.

  Gwen shivered. ‘I can’t say I’ll be sorry to leave this world,’ she said, giving the surrounding area a baleful glare. ‘But we seem to be going from known danger into unknown peril.’

  ‘Better the swart-elf you know than the troll you don’t, eh?’ Eric said.

  ‘I wish you’d stop going on about trolls,’ Hal said, easing the sword in his sheath.

  ‘Not afraid, are you?’ Eric asked.

  Hal frowned. He was not afraid, he realised. Not so long ago, the thought of entering a world full of monsters would have scared him senseless. Now, he was just eager to get the quest over with, so they could defeat the swart-elves and continue their journey.

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said, but Eric gave him a disbelieving look.

  ‘If you’re not scared, you must have less of an imagination than I thought.’

  ‘I’m not afraid,’ Hal replied. ‘But it would be better if we had a clearer idea where we’re going. If we had Tanngrisnir with us, maybe. The dwarves surely have a better idea about this place than anyone.’

  ‘Tanngrisnir,’ Gwen said hollowly. ‘I wonder how he’s getting on.’

  They finished their meal, mounted the ponies, and rode off up the bank. Hal’s heart
was heavy. He had almost forgotten that Tanngrisnir was going into as great a danger as their own - into battle against the superior forces of the swart-elves.

  * * * * *

  The dwarven army trudged across the plains of mud, the pony-cavalry galloping ahead on either wing, their hooves throwing up showers of muck. The warriors were well-armed, many wearing capes and breeches of shaggy wool treated with pitch, in the hopes that this would make them immune to dragon venom. Far to the right, the River Gioll wound through the drear landscape. Ahead, a range of hills broke the horizon. Deserted now, Dolgthrasir’s guard tower stood between them and the host.

  From here, the Dark Moon Fells were out of sight behind the rise. What was more significant, Tanngrisnir thought, as he rode at the centre of the column, was that the location of the swart-elf army was equally obscure. He considered what he would do in Prince Helgrim’s position. The swart-elf knew that his dragons gave him a massive advantage over the dwarves. Would he fling them into action immediately, or try to lull the dwarves into a false sense of security? He had been raiding outlying settlements. Did he intend to draw the dwarves out? If so, it had succeeded. But why was the Prince not pressing the advantage?

  Once they crossed the hills ahead, they would be out on the Dark Moon Plains, with nothing between them and the mountains but gravel and grit. And the swart-elf army? Was it up there? He called a halt.

  Slowly, the dwarf army rumbled to a stop. They were about a quarter of a league from the hills, doubtless in full view of any scouts posted ahead. But they would have been visible ever since they left the misty valley bottoms.

  ‘Send out scouts to reconnoitre those hills,’ he ordered. A small troop of light horse rode forward across the plain.

  ‘No sign of them as yet, war-leader,’ Dolgthrasir grunted. He wore a heavy jerkin that stank strongly of the pitch in which it had been dipped. ‘What do you propose we do?’

  ‘Is this the only route they are likely to take?’ Tanngrisnir asked, looking round at the captains. ‘Remember that theirs is a large army, but they have aerial support. They may well have spied out the land far ahead. Is there any alternative route they might follow?’

  The captains conferred, and then shook their heads. ‘No, war-leader,’ one said. ‘Not a whole army. There are narrow paths through the hills to our left, which lead down onto the plain some leagues away. But if their numbers are anything like we have been led to believe, it would be to their disadvantage to take such a route.’