‘Not far, by my calculations,’ Tanngrisnir replied, stuttering with cold. ‘But our troubles will multiply as we draw closer to the kingdom of the trolls and the lands of the giants.’
‘Do you think Prince Helgrim may be with the trolls?’ Hal wheezed. ‘He was allied to them when we last saw him.’
Tanngrisnir shrugged. ‘For all we know, he may be dead.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Hal said quietly. Even if Prince Helgrim was dead, he knew that the threat of the fire giants themselves remained; forever a peril to the worlds of order.
In silence, they rose, and continued.
Hours later, they came out of the dark shadow of the cliffs at the far end of the pass. Beyond them, sheer but for a few winding gullies, the southern slopes fell away, down towards the glittering fields of ice that stretched almost to the horizon. In the far distance, Hal could see craggy hills that marked the edge of the ice fields, overhung by greasy clouds of black smoke. And beyond the hills was something else, something that fringed the horizon, glinting dully, too far away to be readily discernable.
‘Isavellir,’ Tanngrisnir said, indicating the ice fields.
‘But what’s that, on the far side?’ Hal inquired.
‘Those are the snowy hills of Trollheim,’ Tanngrisnir told him, ‘and beyond that, the forest of Ironwood.’
An enclosed gully led down the mountainside away from the pass, and the two wanderers took this path, glad to be out of the worst of the wind, though it still howled above them.
The gully wound down the cliffs for over half an hour before opening out on the edge of a scree slope. Hal and Tanngrisnir made their way out onto the scattered rocks and picked their way down, slithering and slipping, crouching low; at times almost hugging the ground.
This slope ended at the head of a narrow cliff, where the brackish trickles of a stream gurgled down a wide channel cut in damper days by a torrent. Pausing at the little pool that lay at the head of the falls, they filled their water-skins and wetted their throats. Then they began the descent.
The cliff was precipitous, and their progress made slow by a constant search for ledges and crevices, toeholds and handholds. Below them, the mist curled across a slope of fallen boulders that were rimed with frost. Isavellir proper began beyond that; sheets and lenses of ice coating the wide plains.
They clambered down the cold rock walls, sweating freely despite the freezing air. Often Hal had to pause to wipe off the sweat before it froze solid on his face. He found himself wishing they could find the world of the fire giants, and quick. He fancied somewhere warm for his next hiking holiday.
Grimly, Tanngrisnir preceded him down the cliff, showing little sign of weariness.
They reached the slopes below after a long and nerve-wracking descent. Now the going was relatively easy, although they had to leap from one massive, icy boulder to the next with monotonous regularity. At times, one or other of them would slip on the ice, and almost fall into deep, dark bottomless holes that lay between the rocks lay. Occasionally, Hal thought he could hear things scuttling around in the darkness.
They found life among the boulders, if not the monsters Hal expected. Mosses and lichens flourished on the wet rocks, and sometimes the two wanderers would spy hares or pale foxes bounding into cover as they passed. Otherwise, the slopes were barren.
The boulders thinned out after a while, and Hal and Tanngrisnir began to follow a widening labyrinth of gullies that led between the rocks. Their feet crunched on the gravel that floored the gullies, the only sound except for the distant sighing of the wind. Finally, they came out of a gully to find themselves on the edge of Isavellir.
It was as if a great inland sea had frozen in a single night. The flat expanse of ice, broken only by occasional boulders, vanished into the far-off mist. Here on the shore, as it were, it was impossible to see the hills of the trolls that Hal knew lay on the far side. How were they going to cross this? Hal had been too busy to ponder the question during the descent down the Bones of Ymir, but now they were here he saw no avoiding it. Were they going to use skis? If so, how would they manufacture them? He was about to ask Tanngrisnir, when he noticed the dwarf was crouching low, straining to listen.
‘What is it?’ Hal hissed, kneeling beside him.
Tanngrisnir motioned him to silence. ‘Listen!’ he said.
Hal listened. Apart from the howl of the wind and the creak of ice, and occasional cries from birds high up in the mist, he heard nothing… No - wait! He heard a jingle of harness; a slither of feet; a bark of orders… smelled a waft of rotting meat.
It was coming from ahead.
‘Hide!’ Tanngrisnir urged. He dragged Hal back into the labyrinth of gullies.
‘Hiding again?’ Hal groaned, as they slid behind a boulder. ‘What Champion of Asgard runs and hides at every noise?’
Tanngrisnir scowled. ‘It is imperative that I bring you to Iarnvidia with a whole skin. If I’m not wrong, those are trolls out there. They seldom cross Isavellir without good reason.’
Hal shook his head. ‘I’ve fought trolls before,’ he said impatiently.
‘The wild trolls of Niflheim,’ Tanngrisnir replied. ‘Not the warriors of Trollheim…! Where are you going?’
Hal was scrambling up the side of the boulder. He wanted a better look at his foes.
Crouching down on top of the boulder, he looked down towards the distant edges of the ice field. A large group of brutish figures was appearing out of the mist. Hal’s eyes narrowed as the trolls grew more distinct.
Tanngrisnir appeared at his side. ‘Do not imperil us,’ he said. ‘They might see you up here.’
‘You’re right,’ Hal replied absently. ‘These are nothing like the trolls we met in Niflheim.’
There were about twenty-five of them; lumbering, brutish figures with scaly, blue-black skin. Unlike the primitive trolls Hal had fought before, they wore ornate armour; spike-encrusted helmets, silver mesh-mail. They clutched war-hammers and battle-axes in their massive hands. Large black hunting hounds ran at their heels.
They were crossing the ice on snowshoes, Hal noted, wondering how easy they would be to make with the resources available. The trolls were heading directly for the boulders now; their leader, a great troll who stood a head higher than the rest and wore a necklace of skulls, was directing them to search among the rocks. The dogs snarled, and pawed at the gravel.
Hal looked urgently at Tanngrisnir. ‘They must be looking for us,’ he said.
‘Lie down!’ Tanngrisnir hissed impatiently. They hugged the top of the icy boulder. Hal listened as the trolls fanned out among the rocks, their hunting dogs barking to each other as they went. They were bound to pick up their scent, and follow it to the boulder. Then the trolls would surround them. He turned his face towards Tanngrisnir.
‘We’ve got to fight our way out!’ Hal hissed. He had a horrible feeling he was going to have to be heroic. He had a blocked nose. He’d never imagined how difficult it might be, being heroic with a blocked nose. He patted the pommel of his sword. ‘Look - I’ve got this! I’ll be able to hack our way out of any number of trolls with the Runeblade. Or is it completely worthless?’
‘Don’t be an oaf, Hal,’ Tanngrisnir whispered impatiently. The trolls were moving on every side. ‘Only when you know how to wield that blade will it be truly effective. To do that we must survive, evade capture, and come whole to Ironwood and Iarnvidia’s home.’
He lay his head back down, and closed his eyes. Unwillingly, Hal copied him.
‘Wait ’ere, Finn.’
The voice rumbled from below him. Hal stirred, and looked around. He could smell troll now, he realised; just below the lea of the boulder.
‘What is it, Cap’n?’ came a second trollish voice.
‘We could search among these rocks for years and find nothing. That swart-elf is crazy. How does ’e know where his enemies are?’
Hal lay back to listen. The reference to a swart-elf intrigued him. Could it be
Prince Helgrim?
‘Don’t know why King Skelking took ’im on, the vagabond. When we fished ’im outa the Vimur, ’e was ’alf-drowned. But when he spoke with the King, it all changed. Now the swart-elf is ’is majesty’s honoured guest. King does everything for ’im’
‘And we has to trail the wilderness looking for ’is enemies.’
A chorus of barks and yelps rose from the direction by which Hal and Tanngrisnir had come.
‘Looks like they’ve found somethin’, Cap’n!’ said the first troll.
‘Come on, then,’ said the captain.
Hal heard the trolls lumbering off. He turned to Tanngrisnir. ‘Did you hear that?’ he asked excitedly. ‘It sounds like Prince Helgrim is still alive. And he’s in league with these trolls!’
Tanngrisnir nodded shortly. He rose to his feet, and gazed around the sea of boulders. ‘It looks as if they missed our trail to this rock,’ the dwarf said, with an exultant grin, ‘and only picked it up after casting back and forth through the rocks back there. We’ve passed through the lines! The trolls have gone towards the mountains. Time to make good our escape.’
The two wanderers clambered down from the rock and picked their way through the gullies, back towards the ice field. In the distance behind them, the clamour of the hunting trolls was audible. It seemed that they were following the trail in the wrong direction, back they way Hal and Tanngrisnir had come. Hal grinned to himself. How easy it was to fool trolls!
They made their way through the boulders, creeping slowly from rock to rock. Despite their apparent escape, Tanngrisnir had enjoined caution as they fled.
‘Come on,’ Hal said. ‘We’ve left them far behind us. Now all we need is to work out some way to get across Isavellir.’
Tanngrisnir grunted. From his pack, he produced a couple of small pick-axes. ‘These will help,’ he replied. ‘I had them made at the forge in Aurvangar, when they forged your sword.’
‘So you were expecting us to be crossing this kind of terrain?’ Hal asked, as they crept down the gravel slope towards the edge of the ice field.
‘I try always to be prepared,’ the dwarf replied. ‘The going will be difficult, but we can use these whenever we have problems.’
Two large boulders stood on either side of their path. Hal raced ahead, eager to be out on the ice and away from the trolls. He paused, suddenly, sniffing the air. What was that smell?
‘Hal!’ cried Tanngrisnir from behind him. ‘Watch out!’
Trolls lumbered out from behind the rocks, looming over Hal. One spoke. ‘Why waste time running around the rocks, when we can sit back and wait for our quarry to be flushed out!’
The other trolls laughed, and bore down upon Hal. Tanngrisnir ran up beside him, his sword Helbrand ready.
A blow from a troll’s war-hammer sent the weapon flying. Then great trollish hands were reaching down to grab the two as they turned to run.
Hal struggled, but found that the strength of the trolls of Trollheim is greater even than their cunning. Resistance was futile.
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