Children: The Ten Worlds, #1

Chapter 1

Maya

I stared into the darkness, waiting for the impossible to happen. I tried to hide in my fur coat, but it wasn’t the cold that made my teeth chatter. I stood on the shore of river Ifing, its current savage enough to tear limbs off any fool who’d try to dip a toe in. Ifing served as a barrier between the world of Gods, Ásgard, and the one where I now dwelled, Jötunheim. It could never be breached – that was the very reason for its existence. Yet I was ordered to wait for someone who would cross the river that couldn’t be crossed, bringing along the only thing that was more dangerous than Ifing, and who would make me responsible for it.

I had tried and tried to come up with an explanation that would convince King Thrymr that his demand could never be fulfilled. When his voice had become quieter, nearly a whisper, I had known to stop. The cargo would arrive on the shore this night, he had said, and it would be better if I didn’t return empty-handed. If only he knew how many times I had stood here wishing that this river could be crossed, that I could go back to Ásgard, to my clean, warm chambers—

I blinked, then rubbed my eyes.

No.

The blue light flickering in the darkness grew brighter with each blink, gently rocking left and right as it approached me. I wanted to scream, but my lips seemed to have been sewn shut; I couldn’t run away, as terror nailed my feet to the ground. No. I could only watch as the moonlight, grey rather than silver, cut a man’s silhouette out of the darkness. At first I thought that he was walking on water, perhaps even on the rocks that Ifing’s roaring current turned into sharp blades. Once he got closer I saw a small boat that rocked as it floated in the air just above the river, never touching the water. The impossible was happening in front of me, yet I remained unable to come up with a thought more elaborate than no.

The eerie blue light grew into an orb made of tiny, glowing particles that moved like scared flies stuck inside a jar, bouncing within invisible barriers that held them together. It radiated so much mana that I was forced to take a few steps back and cover my eyes with my hand. I could never command so much power. The boat slowly lowered itself to the shore, the orb hovering over the man’s wide-brimmed hat, its shadow completely obscuring the man’s face. He was holding a large bag. My skin was burning, my stomach was protesting, grey and white flakes obscured my vision. I needed to lie down. I was feeling sick. No.

My lady, said the man and I winced, as if I had woken up from a nightmare to find myself in the middle of an even worse one.

Is th-this M-Mjölnir?

The one and only. Do you have the letter?

He gingerly placed his cargo on the ground, letting the fabric unfold. It was less of a bag, more of a blanket, in the middle of which lay…

The onslaught of power felt like a sudden kick in the belly, so brutal that even the man recoiled. Thor’s hammer hated me, it hated being here, away from its owner.

Letter, urged the man. I handed him the parchment, unable to tear my gaze away from the hammer. My skin was burning, yet I was shivering. No. I didn’t – I couldn’t—

Lift it.

Help me, Gods, I prayed, then felt the blood drain from my face. The Gods were no longer on my side. Their fury, once they discovered that I’d helped with Mjölnir’s theft, made jumping into the river and letting the rapid current tear me into pieces sound tempting. I felt dizzy, stumbling under the weight of the expectations placed upon me. This man was some sort of incredibly powerful mage. He could achieve the impossible and float over Ifing. I was a nobody, a human with some minuscule powers…

I’m in a hurry, little lady.

Please help me, I prayed silently to nobody in particular, then clenched my teeth and felt drops of sweat emerge on my forehead. Mjölnir slowly rose into the air, hovering just over the surface of the blanket. I wasn’t lifting the hammer so much as wrestling with it. Without a word of warning, the man squatted and pulled the fabric out from under the hammer in one swift motion.

I let out a little cry and the weapon wobbled in the air.

Don’t drop it and don’t move too fast, warned the man, or it will return to him. Goodbye.

I didn’t watch his departure, afraid to tear my gaze away from the hammer. The fierce heat of the orb’s power gradually weakened and so did the courage I’d never had in the first place. I was the King’s sorceress. I’d spent the last twelve winters building my position in court, guarding it, ensuring that nobody could replace me. They called me the witch, feared and hated my magic, believing me to have God-like powers. I had to deliver Mjölnir to the King and it was all I could do not to let it fall to the ground.

I have often wondered why a road led from the City of Light to the shore of Ifing, as if a harbour had once stood there. Now I didn’t care, only wishing that the road had been shorter. The City was built on a reservoir of mana. In Ásgard mana overflowed everywhere, as present as air, still nowhere as intense as the power that the orb nearly killed me with. Here I could only tap into puddles or trickles of it and I needed every drop to do this.

My body stiff with exertion, I took the first step, then another. The hammer’s movement was irregular, stopping and starting as it fought against my magic. I didn’t know an object could hate a person. I only realised that I was biting my lip when I felt the taste of salty, silky blood in my mouth. I was forced to carefully lower the hammer to the road’s surface every now and then to take a breath and find another spot with a bit of mana. I looked back at the river, then towards the City. At this speed I’d reach it in time for the summer festival.

King Thrymr didn’t like waiting and didn’t care how difficult this was. To him or anybody else with no magical powers this hammer would look commonplace, a chunk of darkened iron, the handle too short to comfortably use. Those people wouldn’t feel the resistance and the power I was wrestling, until they tried to touch the hammer. I was taking air in and letting it out in small, rapid pants, breathing as if I were sprinting uphill. I made it another few steps, paused, lowered the hammer onto the road and leaned against a tree, trying to force my breath to slow down. I wiped cold sweat off my forehead and tears from my eyes. I groaned as I lifted Mjölnir again.

I was raised in Ásgard by Freya, the Goddess of love and war. When she sent me here on my sixteenth birthday, promising me a great adventure, I was bursting with excitement. Freya was sending me on a special mission to Jötunheim, a whole new world where the jötnar lived! Thjálfi will take Thor’s chariot and bring you where you need to be, she said. You will go to the jarl, show him your powers, then offer to become his sorceress. They will love you like they love me. And in case something goes wrong, you can always fly away!

I had taken this as a promise that I could fly back to Ásgard. I hadn’t questioned why Thjálfi had to take me over to Jötunheim. I never realised that I needed mana to fly and that the flow of water blocked it – just one of the many reasons why Ifing couldn’t be crossed. Once the chariot had disappeared on the horizon, so had my excitement, replaced by a fear as strong as that which was gripping my innards right now. The whole new world, cold and cloudy, seemed much less exciting now that I was actually in it. And this was before it dawned on me that Freya had never told me why she was sending me here, for how long, or how – if – I would return…

The hammer’s handle scraped the road and I squealed in fear, but nothing happened. I lowered it again, then sat down, wishing I could make my heart beat slower. I was drenched in sweat. At least I could already see the gate open wide, unguarded. For a blink I was taken aback by the walls not glowing, before remembering that I had been the one to turn the City of Light dark again. The King’s orders were clear: nobody would leave their houses that night to disturb me, not one guard would stop me inside the castle. Most of the City’s dwellers knew better than to even try and peek through their windows.

You can do it, I groaned, lifting myself and the hammer again. It felt like its weight added to mine, my feet so heavy they seemed to leave tracks in the road. I was nearly there, I encouraged myself, before barely stifling a frustrated cry. Getting to the gate wasn’t enough. I still had to get through the streets, into the castle, up the stairs…! My hands hurt, folded into fists so tight that my fingernails would soon draw blood. Every muscle I had strained to carry the hammer one step after another. The reservoir of mana under the castle was large – I had placed the castle here for a reason. I just had to reach it first.

It took me an eternity and a day to reach the gate, then drag my feet through the dark streets of the City. On any other night, the walls I had built would glow faintly with a light I had given them. Now everything seemed dead and I shuddered in the eerie silence, nearly losing the hammer. Don’t think about death, the hammer, or the King, I told myself. Just the warm bed ahead. Almost there.

The heavy iron and hardwood door of the castle stood open wide, as I had left it. I needed to conjure glow around myself now, as I couldn’t take the moonlight inside with me. I had enough mana to draw from now and that allowed me to see the wide, marble staircase in front of me. I stumbled on the first step. Something was obscuring my vision. Was it snowing inside? Exhaustion, I realised. Was it possible to die from magical exhaustion?

Mezzanine. The warmth of tears rolling down my face. I rested against the balustrade, staring down at the giant feasting space that the King intended to use soon. My knees suddenly attempted to fold and I barely managed to keep myself standing. There were twelve more steps, but it felt more like twelve thousand. I’d just rest for a moment.

Hurry up, hissed the King, standing in the doorway of my own chambers, gesturing impatiently.

The hammer rose into the air again, scraping across the floor once, then again. The screeching sound echoed from the marble walls. My legs, my calves, my feet, my neck, everything hurt, but I was almost done. I leaned against a column, lowering Mjölnir to the ground, next to the King. There. I’d done my task. Let me sleep.

Inside, he whispered feverishly. Into your private chambers, nobody can see it!

One last time I lifted the hammer. He had enough courtesy to let me in, shut the door behind me, and pull open the curtain that hid my bed chamber. I couldn’t tell whether it was my glow or sheer depletion that turned everything into fog. The King pulled at the drapery over my bed and I just let the weapon drop onto the soft duvet before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Bring back the light, King Thrymr commanded. I want to see.

My hand sought the crystal pendant on my neck. One touch was enough for the glow surrounding me to seep into the walls, causing them to shine a pale light again. Normally I’d mutter some nonsense, pretend that I was performing special rituals. I was so desperate to get out of the task I thought impossible, though, that I had told the King all my deceptions. I could never do it, he should find someone with much more talent, I pleaded. The runes on my door were just for show, the potions he suggested I use were fake. He listened, nodded, then told me to hurry up. Why wouldn’t he just take the hammer now and go? I’d done his bidding.

My own stupidity slapped me in the face, just like Freya used to do back in Ásgard. If he could just take the hammer, he wouldn’t have needed me. He wouldn’t go away until he got whatever it was that he wanted.

Is this really Mjölnir? he asked and I opened my eyes to see him bent over the bed, much closer to the hammer than I would consider safe. You wouldn’t be trying to deceive me, hmm?

Don’t touch it, Your Grace, I croaked. Even from here I could feel the hammer’s anger. King Thrymr couldn’t see the chunk of black iron for what it really was. It’s very dangerous…

You’ll see ‘dangerous’ when I wield it, huffed the King. In one swift motion, he grabbed the handle, or rather, he tried to. The lightning blinded me, followed by thunder so deafening that the thud afterwards barely registered. The room was filled with the metallic smell of a storm, the bed miraculously un-scorched. The King was gone. My mind went blank for a moment until I heard a quiet groan. The impact had hurled him at the wall so hard that his body bounced back, lying in a weird, contorted position. I’d be charged with murdering the King.

Blood pulsated faster in my veins, only instead of blood it felt like ice. Your Grace, I cried. Please…please be alive!

You’ve hurt me.

No, it wasn’t me, I’m sorry, I’ll bring the healer, Your Grace, it wasn’t—

Be quiet. Come here. My head…hurts.

I crawled towards him. I was as good as dead if I didn’t find a way to placate him without telling him it was his own fault. King Thrymr made no mistakes. Please let me check your head, I pleaded. I took the indeterminate sound as a permission and, as gently as possible, I lifted his head to check for blood. The King let out a quick hiss, but my fingers were dry and the relief was instantaneous.

You truly have great power, Your Grace…somebody weaker would have died… but a healer should…

No healer. Nobody can know. He groaned. Put me to bed. I need to lie down, that’s all.

The hammer—

Move it elsewhere.

I can’t, Your Grace, I truly can’t. I need rest.

He sighed. Then lie down next to me and tell me how it all went, hmm? We’ll rest together. It was very difficult, mhm?

Yes. I stretched myself on the floor next to him. He sounded calm. I might live to see the morning. First, the man—

My eyes popped out in shock. We were lying next to each other, yet suddenly the King was on top of me, his hand covering my mouth. It took me another blink to understand he still wanted more from me.

You planned it, he muttered slowly, the way he spoke when sentencing people to death. His long, greasy hair hung down the sides of his face, tickling me, his breath reeked of onions, his hand was dry, warm, big, his body flattening mine. You wanted Mjölnir for yourself so badly that you used magical powers against your King. A slight smirk appeared on his face. I can’t blame you. Power is such a turn-on, isn’t it?

I could barely hear him over the pounding of my heart. This was not happening, I knew it was impossible. I was having a bad dream. Someone must have put acacia in my food. I was poisoned, this was nothing but a vision…

Once Freya is mine, I will bed her every night, mused the King. The stench of onion was unbearable. I will be invincible, untouchable. The Gods themselves will fear me. What would a nobody like you have done with Mjölnir? Was it Thor you wanted to bed? Hmm? His hand was still covering my mouth. Now his thumb and index finger briefly shut my nose, suffocating me. I tried to let out a sound, any sound, but only managed a quiet, muffled mmm.

The King’s crotch rubbed against mine. What should I do with you, my sorceress? You have been useful so far. Shall I reward you with your King’s child? Oh yes… your King is feeling as merciful as he is powerful. He will make your dream come true, reward you generously. His hand released my mouth. He fought with his belt while his weight still pinned me down, then growled in discontent. His knee forced my legs apart as he cursed, lifting himself up, the belt resisting.

I jerked my head towards the bed where Mjölnir lay. I could never move the hammer now. Under the bed… I didn’t think. No time. I gathered all the mana I could draw and flung the thing at the King’s head with all the power I could muster. He didn’t even grunt. The full chamber pot didn’t strike so much as it smashed into the side of the King’s head, tearing him off me and throwing him at the wall again. I rolled away and lifted myself to my hands and knees, breathing heavily through my mouth.

Some of the excrement had splashed over my hair, not reaching my face. The King wasn’t so lucky. His face, hair, chest, the clothing that cost more than some families earned in their lifetime were all soiled. He was breathing; I saw the excrement bubble on his lips and a whole new level of terror inside me emerged, squeezing my stomach like a vice, pushing out vomit. Most of it landed on the floor, but not all.

C-cunt, I heard, or thought I heard. King Thrymr’s skull must have been made of iron. It would have been better for me if the blow had killed him. I knew some of what would be done to me. I’d done it to others as he watched.

I didn’t really so much as get up, as the vision lifted me off the ground. Leaning against the wall, I couldn’t stop looking at his chest moving up and down until his lips started moving too, bringing me back into the nightmarish reality. I rolled against the wall rather than walked. If I were to fall now, I wouldn’t be able to get up again.

I made it back into the magic room. I glared at the vaguely magical-looking tchotchkes. If only a potion of strength actually existed! Most of the dusted bottles contained mud, the rune-covered books – nonsense, all produced to scare off potential burglars or spies. I carried all my power inside me and currently I had little left. Although the smallest berry from Idunn’s garden back in Ásgard would have restored my strength. Ásgard was very far from here.

I had no weapons and I didn’t know how to use any, as I’d always relied on magic. The idea of taking Mjölnir was laughable. The castle and the streets were empty, though; the gate – unguarded. Even slowly and carefully I should make it out of the City before the King could drag himself out of here and alert his men.

I opened the door and froze in surprise before taking one step. So did the wide-eyed man with a very sharp looking knife in his hand.

My instinct kicked in before he composed himself. I sent him flying, screaming, until he hit the ground of the feasting hall with a thud, cutting the scream short.

The silence barely lasted a blink before an arrow whizzed so near my face I would have sworn the feathers touched my skin. I only didn’t shriek because air seemed to have gotten stuck in my throat. That could have killed me, I thought in disbelief. I had never been shot at. The witch! someone yelled. Get the witch!

This is real.

Everything turned dark again when I grabbed the crystal. What now? Whizz, then the bonk of an arrow hitting marble. I squealed and ducked. How did they know, who were they, and…why? I was useful, I wanted to cry, important, I brought him Mjölnir, I was the King’s…

Shouting. Words I couldn’t decipher. I couldn’t understand… An orange, flickering light, first a dot, then growing. Another power orb, my confused mind screamed, no, a burning torch, they had torches! More flickering lights on the other side of the gallery. Growing, moving closer. Run! My legs failed me and I fell off the stairs, yelping in pain as my body hit each step in turn, trying to cover my head, until I reached the mezzanine. It took me a blink or two to decide that I wasn’t dead. It hurt too much. I had no time to be in pain, no time to be tired, I needed light, I needed sleep. Shouting, questions, where is she? Door, get out of here, think later, but how did they know?

I didn’t even try to lift myself up anymore. I blindly found the top step, sat on it and bumped down the stairs – ow – ow – my buttocks hitting one step after the other – more bruises, each bringing me closer to the door, closer to freedom. Being alive hurt so bad now… eleven… twelve. Now I just had to run down the streets until I reached the gate, escape the heavy boots slamming the floor, shouting, sounds reflecting from the cold marble, coming at me from all directions. I couldn’t even walk, much less shift and fly away.

A sob blocked my throat. When I’d thought that I would die I didn’t really think that I would.

Get the witch! tore through the ruckus and something like peace poured over me.

There were no words that would make King Thrymr forgive me. I wouldn’t die for this, oh no. I would live a very long, excruciating life. Unless they got the witch. With the chaotic running, shouting, darkness they’d shoot at any target the moment they saw one. I wondered how dying felt.

I propped myself up for the last time. Aim well, I whispered. I would join the other dead in Helheim soon. My hand wrapped itself around the crystal, ready to conjure the glow. Suddenly a horrible suspicion arose that Odin might declare this a death in battle and make me go to Valhalla. I hesitated just long enough for Mjölnir to strike me and end everything.

Pain. Wood smoke. Heat. Light breaking in through my eyelids. Flames so bright they didn’t even flicker. They were burning me alive. My back felt really cold, though. My tormentors weren’t burning me correctly. Amateurs.

Ready to scold them, I opened my eyes with a quiet groan. Even my eyelids were aching. There were no flames, even though I could still smell the smoke. Only warm sunshine, blue sky, trees… and a heavy hand that landed on my mouth, pinning me to the ground. Again…? I tried to groan, but it came out more like mgw?

Quiet, whispered a bearded giant above me. The sun illuminating him from behind turned his curly red hair into fire. They’re near. Promise you’ll be quiet and I’ll take my hand away. Okay? He paused. Well?

Mwh.

Oh, he said, then withdrew his hand. Sorry. Okay then? Because if you’re going to scream, I have to kill you. And don’t turn me into a toad, or I’ll have to kill you too.

My confusion was complete. I’d been hit with Mjölnir, so I was dead, but the last time I saw Helheim it was surrounded by ice and snow. Had they changed something while I was away? I lifted myself up and looked around. We were in some sort of circular clearing in a forest. Half of it was surrounded by massive boulders. There was a fire pit in the middle. The boulders were nearly as tall as the trees, five, six times taller than me. Very strong magic must have been used here, I thought with a mixture of fear and awe. I bit my lip, immediately letting go when it responded with pain. I was dead, my body had no right to ache! I squinted at the blinding sun, wanting to complain, when doubt crept in.

Is this Helheim? I whispered.

The giant glared at me, put a finger on his lips and hissed so loud that the sound nearly drowned out Ifing’s roar. Ifing? I listened more attentively. Voices, men shouting at each other, to my right – the road. If I got up now and started walking, I’d reach the river. The boulders hid us from the City of Light – from now on known as the City That Suddenly Needs a Lot of Candles – and the road. We were in the Haunted Forest, alive.

I glanced at my companion and stopped breathing. The giant’s hair and beard were so red they looked unnatural. Like his father’s. He glared at me again and I felt even smaller than before. Why hadn’t I just thrown myself in the river? Being alive seemed very overrated compared to what Thor’s son here would do once he found out what I’d done.

His arms were as thick as my waist. My gaze moved to his hands and I bit my lip again. This pain was nothing compared to the son of Thor breaking my bones one by one, starting with the fingers, or perhaps toes… Would he agree to break my neck and kill me fast if I answered all his questions about Mjölnir’s whereabouts and my role in its disappearance? Dear Gods, I started praying, then I abruptly stopped. The Gods were not my friends anymore. Still, an answer arrived in the form of a bird’s cry.

My pulse quickened. I sat up despite my muscles’ protests, shifted into a swallow and…

…no, I hadn’t. I couldn’t shift any more than I could run right now. I had never experienced this before, and I felt my already dry throat constrict. Was it possible to just use up powers? What if they would never return? I told myself off for thinking such negative thoughts when I should instead focus on the various forms of torture Thor’s son would subject me to soon.

The beard confused me. When I had arrived here, Járnsaxa, his mother, had either still been pregnant or had just given birth. That was quite a beard for twelve or thirteen, or even thirty. It contrasted with his undeniably childish features. Like a kid with a fake beard, a man-child with the literal body of a God. He’d look so sweet while killing me.

They’re gone, he said in a normal voice. I’d have jumped out of my skin, but I was too tired, so I just flinched half-heartedly. You can leave. Oh. No. You can’t. You’ll tell them where I am.

Who’s ‘them’ and why can’t I tell them? I asked weakly. I had nowhere to go, nothing to eat, no strength to move, no powers. I couldn’t leave any more than I could stay.

Because I’m hiding, he said in a tone that suggested my question was stupid.

So am I. I rested my back against one of the boulders and sighed in contentment. How did I get here?

He looked sheepish. I ran into you, but not on… I didn’t see you, and then… They wanted to kill you and I don’t like it when people die. I took you with me. Sorry.

I nearly scolded him for ruining my chances of dying quickly. So, you just grabbed my… I stopped myself from saying body …me, then ran away? They didn’t catch you?

The gate was open and everything was dark. I hid in the forest, then brought you here, I can find this place with my eyes closed. I’ve been coming here for a long time.

You’re the son of Thor. Why would you be hiding?

Don’t call me that. I’m just Magni. A blacksmith.

My gaze landed on a hammer secured to Magni’s belt and I failed to contain a little gasp. I could imagine many sorts of torture involving fire and a heavy hammer, magical or not.

What’s wrong?

I was just…wondering if this place is safe.

Nobody enters the Haunted Forest.

How come you’re not afraid?

His eyes seemed tired, blank. Nothing’s more scary than people.

I’d been warned against the Haunted Forest the moment I had arrived here. Once I had heard about the monstrosities awaiting me there, I couldn’t resist combing through it in search of them. I had been very disappointed to find out it was only haunted by mosquitoes and spiders. Back then those boulders had not been here, though. They were not my work. Until yesterday I hadn’t encountered a mage powerful enough to build this construction.

Magni didn’t like it when people died? What a weird thing to say. His wary stare and a muscle twitching in his cheek made it clear that he was afraid of me. Perhaps I should remind him that he could simply break my spine with two fingers and leave me paralysed. Greatly reassured by this thought, I briskly produced a friendly smile to make him feel more at ease. Magni reacted with a sharp intake of breath, recoiling from me and wrapping his arms around his knees. The trousers, too short, revealed boots worn out to the point where they barely had soles. They were dirty, same as his tunic. The belt his hammer hung from looked like it could break at any moment. Thor’s son looked…poor.

Tell me what you’ve done, he demanded in a slightly muffled voice. "My mother came to the forge and said that horrible things would happen at night, so I should steal some food and go to Midgard. She said there would be no guards once the lights went down. Once your lights went down. But when the lights did go down, I couldn’t see anything, so I had to wait for the lights to come back, then the guards came out… Why did you do that? Then it became dark again—"

Wait, I interrupted. I have to think. I shouldn’t have gestured at him with my hand, because his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. I let my hand drop in as un-witchy a way as possible. Even that hurt. I must have been one massive bruise underneath my clothes. It was a miracle that nothing seemed broken.

Magni’s confusion dispelled mine. It was I who unknowingly gave the signal that it was time to kill the witch by bringing the light back. Aside from the King, I was the only one who knew where the hammer was, and I’d become a liability rather than an asset. I would have died quickly and silently, once the King had finished rewarding me. The man with the knife, the guards with the torches and bows were just an extra precaution. I couldn’t even pretend that I’d outwitted them. I was saved by the chamber pot, Magni, and the legends that kept both the young and the old away from the Haunted Forest.

Are you still thinking?

I shook my head, then nodded. I need to get away from here.

But why would the King want his witch killed?

It’s not ‘witch’, it’s ‘sorceress’.

That means witch, Magni explained. Why would the…

My hair was glued with something. Absentmindedly, I reached to remove it from my face. I grimaced. Now my hair and my fingers would stink. I hit the King on the head with a chamber pot. A full one. If they catch me, I’ll spend the rest of my life dying. Do you have some water, by the way?

Why did you do that? You’re his witch.

Stop calling me that! I have a name. Maya. He was forcing himself upon me.

Forcing himself?

He tried to rape me. I cast another look at Magni’s arms, hoping I wasn’t giving him ideas. If this giant man-child threw himself on me, he’d simply crush me to death.

And then?

And then I hit him on the head with a full chamber pot.

Why?

It was the first thing I saw.

But why? It’s his right as the King. The law says…

First of all, I interrupted, he made that law up. Second, it also states I’ve got the right to make sure I’m safe.

Wouldn’t it be safer to just let him? Then they wouldn’t want to kill you.

Magni’s eyes were innocent, expression full of concern. The man-child thought he was helping. He must have inherited his father’s intellect.

At least you know why you’re running away, he sighed. I just know that Mother told me to steal food and go to Midgard. I don’t want to. They have humans there. They are covered in scales and they breathe fire. Then they kill and eat each other for the amusement of Odin the Death-Bringer…

He prefers ‘All-Father’, I muttered, tuning him out. I had to come up with a version of events that made me look innocent.

One of the few things the Gods feared were jötnar invading Ásgard. Thor regularly descended upon Jötunheim, using his hammer to destroy towns, cities, settlements seemingly at random. Jötnar couldn’t unite against Thor any more than sheep could unite against wolves. There was, however, one place that had an advantage over all other parts of Jötunheim…

Absolutely, I nodded, interrupting him. Tails, horns, fire. I’m human, by the way, so that’s what humans look like. Magni, do you know why so many people come to the City of Light?

His face immediately darkened and I regretted the quip. B-because it’s safe.

Correct, and the reason it’s safe is that you and your mother live here, I continued carefully. Do you know that the taxes here are three times as high as everywhere else and that other cities don’t have laws that permit the kings to sleep with any woman they want?

How’s that our fault?

It’s not your fault, it’s… I paused, searching for a word. Convenient. For the King. People will pay or sacrifice a lot for safety. But sometimes… sometimes men get…bored of women, so… just in case of that… suppose there was a…

What’s that have to do with me and my mother? Just say it!

You know what would keep the City safe forever? If King Thrymr could steal Mjölnir, then…

Hogwash, Magni interrupted. Nobody can touch Mjölnir, only Thor, Loki, the dwarves who made it, and me.

Oh, you too?

I played with it when I was little. Then he took it away. Thor, I mean, not the King. He’ll never have it.

I grimaced. He does. And he won’t give it back until Freya agrees to marry him. Once Freya is here – not that it’s going to happen – your mother and you will be… ah… Good Gods, how do I say this nicely?! …unnecessary.

Ooo, said Magni, instead of erupting with fury. Lady Freya will come here? When? Will we all get to see her?

It felt as if someone slapped the tiredness out of me. No, I spat. She won’t. Ever.

No, he agreed. Because you’re lying, witch. Come up with something else.

I’m not lying! Somebody stole it, brought it to Jötunheim, and now King Thrymr has it. I had to die, because I knew about it. That’s all. I congratulated myself. Perfect.

How do you know that?

He pressed his lips flat and crossed his arms on his chest, sending me into panic. That was a lot of arms and chest. Since I couldn’t shift, could I cause one of the boulders to fall on him?

Talk, witch!

It – it had nothing to do with me, someone else did it, you said it yourself, I can’t touch it!

Witchery!

Please remember you don’t like it when people die, I pleaded quietly. Magni, it came from Ásgard! Do you think I’d be hiding here if I could just go back to Ásgard?

His eyebrows wandered up. Back? You are a Goddess?

I – no. I’m human, I just have some powers others don’t have.

How did you make the City glow?

Ah, that’s easy.

A whole city is easy? His tone was no longer accusatory, but full of wonder.

Do you know what mana is…? Of course you don’t. Mana means ‘life power’, it’s the fuel for magic. Like wood for this fire. When you put wood in this fire, it disappears and turns to heat and light.

You put wood into the city?

Good Gods, Magni, it’s a metaphor…

Why do you say ‘good Gods’? It’s ‘dread Gods’. They’re not good, except Lady Freya.

I ground my teeth. Their obsession with Lady Freya made me sick. I had turned this pile of turf into the City of Light and an illiterate jarl into an illiterate King, and that made me the evil witch. Yet every single jötunn, man or woman, loved Lady Freya, who had never set a foot in Jötunheim. "As I was saying, mana is invisible. It’s even here, right under your feet… don’t look so alarmed, it’s not going to bite you, it’s been there all the time! There’s quite a lot under the castle. You see this crystal on my neck? It can only have one function at a time, but once I tell it what to do it just does it by itself. I told it to take the mana from under the castle and turn it into light. It’s really quite simple."

Magni seemed unimpressed. Simple? So that’s it?

It’s not just ‘it’, I’ll have you know! Very few have those powers. You see those boulders around us? They didn’t come here by themselves, did they?

No, he agreed. I put them here.

You see, with magic I – I’m sorry, you did what?

I built this.

I gawked. With your…hands?

Mostly with my back.

But they are so big, I said, bewildered, looking at the rocks. Nobody could move them without magic.

Magni shrugged. I’m strong. If I can do it, others can as well.

I stood up, noticing I was already less sore, and knocked on one of the rocks. Could it have been empty inside? It definitely wasn’t an illusion. I looked at Magni in awe. He was observing me with a smug grin. And you can wield his hammer, I mused, biting my tongue a blink too late.

Not now that it’s gone! You went to Ásgard and stole it!

It wasn’t me! What can I do to make you believe me? Someone brought it here to the shore, I just used my powers to bring it to the King. The hammer is now on my bed.

Your bed…!

Good Gods, Magni, I didn’t intend to sleep with it! You have no idea how difficult it is to carry Mjölnir without touching it and if you drop it, it’s just going to fly straight back to your father.

Back to Thor. I don’t have a father.

I took in his mended clothes, the dirty, calloused hands, the gaze stuck in his lap, and I sat down. I’m sorry, I said quietly. All I want you to know is that yes, I can move things around without touching them, I can make the City walls glow, I can shift into animals, but no, I did not steal the hammer by myself. I don’t know how it got here, I don’t know what’s going to happen now, I don’t know what I am supposed to do.

What would you do if you could do anything you wanted?

I silenced. Eat, I finally said. Did you say you stole food? What do we have? I mean, if you’re willing to share, of course.

I’ve got onions and potatoes. Cheese, bread. Sausage.

Is that all? I asked when it became clear that he didn’t just pause to think.

Why, what do you want then?

Don’t you have…apples?

Apples? he echoed.

Apples, carrots, pears… Am I supposed to eat raw potatoes?

You don’t have to eat anything, said Magni, as he turned away from me, dug out an onion, peeled it with a few swift moves and bit into it as if it were an apple.

I waited just long enough for him to know I was deeply offended, then helped myself to some of the bread. It looked like Magni wasn’t speaking to me. I resisted the urge to tell him that I wasn’t speaking to him either and decided to look for a place where I could wash myself. Without thinking twice, I shifted into a swallow, pleased to hear a shocked shriek. I clambered out of the fur coat – not all of my clothes shifted with me – then flew up. Only then did I realise that I hadn’t lost my ability after all. I moved clumsily, my bird muscles as stiff as the human ones and my wing glued with the same substance as my hair before, but it didn’t matter.

I found a shallow stream and dove into it, only to emerge half-drowned and disappointed. I had no intention of using my beak to clean myself and the cold water alone wasn’t enough. I certainly wasn’t going to shift into a cat and lick myself clean either. The last form available to me, a horse, required help. I got out of the water, cold and still dirty, and to my surprise inadvertently shifted back into my human form. My black leather trousers and black woollen tunic were completely soaked, but that wasn’t why I shivered. What if it had happened mid-flight? I needed more rest. I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth, clenching my teeth to stop them from chattering. A blink later the self-pity turned into the cold burn of fury. I’d done everything for this mediocre jarl who would never have become King without me. My reward? Losing everything, nearly getting raped, then discarded. And they’d shot at me!

I tried to shake the water out of my hair like a dog would, but when it hit me on the mouth I lost control.

I shifted into a bird, then back into a human, shrieking, squawking, flapping the wings of a small, powerless animal that ate insects and a small, powerless human that deluded herself she’d be the revered and adored sorceress. My whirrs and chirps sounded neither human nor bird-like as I screamed in anger, pain, frustration, fear, not caring whether someone could hear me, until I ran out of all the energy I’d been trying so hard to save.

Still wet, but no longer cold, I lay there on the yellow, dead grass, panting. My hair still stank. Who knew your own shit was so hard to wash off? A perfect metaphor for everything. Too exhausted to shift again, I was forced to walk through the trees instead, avoiding the branches that tried to poke my eyes out. I decided that I still wasn’t speaking to Magni, which would allow me to avoid further interrogation. Not a word, I promised myself, then sniffed the air. This wasn’t just wood smoke.

Are you baking potatoes? Can I have one? Please?

Magni jumped to his feet. I thought you left me! You just did a bird… became… flying… somewhere! Then I heard this horrible scream, it was a troll, the Haunted Forest is really haunted! I was so scared…!

Please give me a potato, I begged. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again if you just give me one. Please. I loved potatoes. Just not raw.

He harrumphed, muttered something, picked up one of the thin metal pokers and handed it to me. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that the other end of the poker was nicely heated up by the fire and I dropped the thing with a surprised yelp, only stopping it from hitting the ground at the last moment. Carefully keeping my lovely, lovely baked potato in the air I pulled out the poker, making sure not to touch the hot part. I looked around for something to scrape the burnt bits off with and noticed Magni’s open mouth and huge, unblinking eyes.

What’s wrong? I asked, immediately concerned, then lowered my voice to a whisper. Guards?

Don’t – you – don’t do witch things in front of me!

Do you have a knife?

Flying potatoes are unnatural!

It’s hot, I can’t hold it…

Stop it!

I sighed. Dropping it now. There. In the dirt now. I can’t even see it. Pleased?

I got no answer. Cursing under my breath, I patted the ground blindly in search for the potato, not daring to use the glow. I scraped the worst of the dirt off with my fingernails, hissing every now and then. Stupid Freya, stupid King, stupid half-God afraid of flying potatoes. I told him I could do it. As I ate the half-burnt, half-raw vegetable I had a feeling that this wasn’t how one cooked potatoes on a bonfire, but said nothing. He could have kept them for himself, killed me, or just left me behind. When I was finished with the last cold bits and spitting out dirt, I began to feel guilty.

I don’t think witches even exist, I said, trying to sound as though I were talking to myself. Neither do trolls. What you’ve heard was, uh, not a troll. I told you I could move things with magic, that’s how the potato stayed in the air. I… I’m sorry I didn’t warn you I was going to shift, I should have. For me it’s normal.

I’m not listening to witches. Magni paused. What’s shift?

It means changing shapes, like I did earlier. A swallow, a cat, a horse, that’s all I can do. I’m really not dangerous.

You’ve tortured people.

Ah, I answered nervously. I…didn’t enjoy it.

He didn’t answer.

The King made me do it, I did it in his chambers, he… he liked to watch, please understand, I couldn’t say no, or I would have to swap places with…

Magni spat into the fire, ending my blabbering. Probably for the best. Exhausted, my stomach unhappy with the meal, I curled on the cold ground and immediately fell asleep.