"Following Ragnarok Ch 4" by Angela Perry

Chapter 4: Eternal Chains

Eyes darting, Mist counted nearly a dozen of the draugr in various states of tangibility. They had all chosen to appear grotesquely malformed, though Mist knew they could have seemed fully human if they chose, except for the bluish hue of their skin. The scent of death and decay that swept around them was overpowering. Only the paralyzing terror kept her from retching.

A cold sweat formed on her brow and upper lip as she struggled to retreat, fighting her immobile muscles. Never before had she felt such fear when facing an enemy. Standing protectively in front of her, Kolbyr did not seem affected as she was. His limbs trembled, but he stood his ground and taunted the draugr that surrounded them.

“You look as though you could use a good meal,” Kolbyr sneered, his remaining hand inching toward the scabbard at his belt, “but I fear you shall be disappointed. You’ll find no sustenance here.”

His hand grasped empty air, and he glanced down at his scabbard, then up again. Mist heard him curse under his breath. His sword lay with his arm in the embers of Midgard.

“Valkyrie, your sword,” he hissed, reaching back toward her without taking his eyes from the advancing horde of draugr.

Mist tried to respond, but only a gasp of fear passed between her lips. She stood as stone except for her shivering.

“Valkyrie!” Kolbyr snarled urgently as the draugr’ laughter sizzled around them. When she still did not respond, he risked looking over his shoulder at her. Her white skin and darting eyes told him what she could not.

“Odin’s eye,” the dark elf swore, “Of course, the fear.” He clenched his hand around one of the many amulets that hung from his belt, then hesitated. “I have only one talisman against undead fear. I mean no insult, valkyrie, but I cannot bring myself to trust you to defend us.”

He pulled her sword from its sheath and assumed a defensive stance, pressing her into the wall behind him. At the sight of the bloodstained steel, the laughter faded and the draugr drew back several paces. Their eyes glowed brighter, casting a red sheen over the tunnel’s carvings.

With a piercing howl, one of the draugr became insubstantial again, the blue haze where it had stood twisting and writhing. In moments, a fierce mountain cat crouched in front of Kolbyr, its fur mottled with decay and its stained teeth bared. Several other draugr followed suit, transforming into wolves, bears, and snakes, all tainted with the corpse-blue skin and smell of putrefaction. Two of the draugr began to distend and bloat until their engorged bodies blocked the passageway on either side of Kolbyr and Mist.

Kolbyr hefted the sword and swallowed. Everything seemed too vivid, each tiny detail palpable. His palm was sweating, in spite of his protective amulet and the frigid cave air. Slavering growls and hisses pressed in upon him from all sides. Mist’s tremors shivered through his body as he pressed up against her. A feather from one of her wings brushed against his arm, and a detached part of his mind noticed its softness.

The closest draugr, the one that had shifted into a cat, gathered itself and leapt, claws extended. Clumsily slashing with the sword, Kolbyr knocked it to one side. It landed upright, paws splayed, and crouched low, snarling. Ichor oozed from its shoulder where the steel had sliced it, making a glowing blue puddle on the stone floor.

As if at an unspoken signal, the other draugr attacked. They surged forward, fingers and claws reaching for their prey. Only by wildly swinging the sword in an arc in front of them was Kolbyr able to keep the draugr from overwhelming them immediately. The narrowness of the tunnel offered some little protection as well, keeping the draugr from attacking them all at once. Still, they crowded together, trying to battle past Kolbyr’s defense and devour their living meal.

Kolbyr’s arm tired rapidly. He was unused to using this arm in battle, and its clumsiness and flagging strength betrayed him. While a draugr-bear retreated from his blows on the right, the teeth of one of the draugr-wolves lunged past his defenses and tore a gash in his thigh. He staggered, remaining upright by sheer force of will. Behind him, Mist gasped at their shared pain.

The smell of fresh blood enraged the draugr, and they attacked with renewed ferocity. A blow from the clawed hand of one of the draugr in human form sent Kolbyr to one knee. A draugr-snake struck quickly, sinking its glowing fangs into one shoulder. Kolbyr’s arm faltered, and as the sword dropped, the mountain cat launched itself at him and knocked him against Mist, driving them both to the floor.

Time seemed to slow for Mist as she lay on the ground, her legs trapped beneath Kolbyr’s bulk. Whether it was the shock of the fall, the pain, or simply her proximity to Kolbyr’s talisman, Mist could not tell, but the paralyzing fear suddenly lessened enough for her to regain her senses. She saw the mountain cat pressing its claws into Kolbyr’s chest while he writhed beneath, struggling to bring his sword up. She became aware of the draugr surrounding them, closing in for the kill. And she found herself able to move.

As Kolbyr made one last desperate swipe, Mist reached within herself and cast her magic over the draugr. Glowing fetters appeared on first one, then another of the wights, binding their hands and feet, causing them to stumble to a halt. Their howls rapidly transformed from confusion to anger as they saw what she had done.

“What happened?” Kolbyr panted, thrusting the struggling mountain cat off from him and, with gritted teeth, tearing the snake from his shoulder.

“I’ve cast war-fetters on them,” Mist explained breathlessly, muscles taut with effort. “But they are strong, and there are many of them. I cannot hold them for long.”

“Hold them just long enough,” Kolbyr said, rising painfully to his feet. He approached the mountain cat, which lay on its side, biting futilely at the magical shackles on its legs. With a downward thrust, he drove the sword through the creature’s chest. Blue ichor oozed from the wound, but the draugr seemed otherwise unaffected. It snarled and twisted its neck toward Kolbyr, trying to sink its teeth into his leg.

Jerking the sword free, Kolbyr raised it high and struck again, severing the draugr’s head completely. The body thrashed for a moment, then lay still. Its head rolled to a stop against the far wall. With a satisfied grunt, Kolbyr turned to the next draugr and prepared to eliminate it as well.

“Kolbyr!”

Mist’s cry made him whirl. The mountain cat had resumed its struggling, writhing until drew near its head. As the two parts touched, they blurred and merged together, until the draugr lay whole once more, a feral grin on its feline face.

“We cannot kill them,” Mist gasped through clenched teeth.

“Then release them,” Kolbyr commanded tiredly, “and we will perish in holy battle as we first sought.”

“I cannot,” Mist answered, her voice trembling. “I swore to complete the task Hoedin set us, to travel to Hel’s stronghold and release Baldur. If I perish, I die forsworn.”

“And you belong to Hel,” Kolbyr finished in a whisper. He stood for a moment, watching the draugr fight Mist’s enchantment, weakening her. “Never,” he said finally, softly. “I will not allow it. If we cannot fight, we must run.”

“To where?” Mist asked, shaking her head.

Kolbyr did not answer. Instead, he said, “The bloated one on your left—can you use one of your shackles to crush him, so we can get past him?”

Mist nodded and a fetter appeared around the swollen draugr’s middle. Panting from exertion, she forced the shackle to constrict, squeezing the draugr until it howled. It thrashed in the fetter’s grip, resisting Mist until she cried out with the effort. The war-fetters on the other draugr shimmered and faltered as she poured her strength into compressing the huge draugr.

Finally, the draugr yielded, shrinking back its normal size with a shriek. Mist collapsed, unconscious. The war-fetters disappeared. A curse escaped Kolbyr’s lips as the draugr sprang to their feet and faced him.

“Fools,” one of the draugr snarled, “you have done nothing but make your deaths more lingering.”

Kolbyr glanced at the sword in his hand, then down at the valkyrie slumped at his feet. Regret at the loss of his other arm pierced him. He could not fight and carry Mist at the same time.

“Not like this, anyway,” he muttered, flinging the sword to the ground.

The draugr’s laughter rose around him as they saw Kolbyr cast the weapon aside. “He is eager to join us in death, yes? It will be strange to feast on something that does not fight back.”

Ignoring their jeers, Kolbyr shifted into his wolf form. Once again, the laughter died away as the draugr realized their prey would not succumb easily. Before the draugr could move, Kolbyr had tossed Mist’s lifeless body onto his back. With a curl of his lips, the dark elf dashed past the wights into the dark tunnel beyond.

Howls arose behind him as the draugr gave chase, their fetid breath hot on his heels. Claws raked his flank, and he stumbled but pressed onward into the blackness, eyes straining for a glimpse of the tunnel mouth. One of the draugr-wolves drew even with him, but he snapped at the creature and it fell back.

At last, the mouth of the tunnel came into view, visible to Kolbyr’s elf eyes as a slightly lighter black torn with blowing snow. He sprinted ahead, half flying, half running, using the gift of flight that Mist had given him to make up for his missing leg as best he could.

Blue mist blocked his path, coalescing ahead of him as the draugr tried to keep him in the tunnel. A desperate leap took Kolbyr through the still transparent haze and into the open cavern beyond. His front leg, already exhausted from his battle with the draugr, buckled as he landed, sending Kolbyr and Mist tumbling over each other to land hard at the verge of the cave. Triumphant wails echoed from the tunnel as the draugr burst into the cavern and saw their prey sprawled helplessly.

“Garm!” Kolbyr lifted his head and howled, “Wolf-brother! Come to our aid!”

Without taking his eyes from the approaching draugr, Kolbyr knew he had been heard and answered. From the whistling blizzard outside the cavern came the clanking of chains and a deep growl. A thin smile exposed Kolbyr’s fangs as the draugr skidded to a stop several arms lengths away.

Wind rustled Kolbyr’s fur as a great shadow leapt over him, landing between the draugr and tunnel mouth, cutting off their escape. An enormous wolf towered over them all, its head nearly brushing the roof of the cave, its eyes a deep, glowing green. Blood matted its shoulder and chest, a rusty brown to Kolbyr’s sharp eyes.

“You dare to invade my cavern, wights?” The voice was deeper than thunder, shaking loose stones from the cavern walls and ceiling.

The draugr scattered before the new attacker, their screams and moans tiny compared to the rumble that rose from the great wolf’s throat. The wolf lunged, tearing several of the slower draugr into wisps of rancid blue smoke. The remaining draugr fled through the caverns mouth into the icy blackness beyond.

The wolf snorted, clearing his nostrils of the scent of the draugr, then padded over to where Kolbyr lay and sank to its haunches. It dropped its head to sniff the two travelers.

“A dark elf and…what is this? A bird? A human? Surely not one of the gods?”

Kolbyr struggled to his feet and faced the other wolf—at least, he faced one of its eyes.

“Greeting, noble Garm. I am Kolbyr, dark elf and wolf-kin,” he growled as loudly as he could. “The other is called Mist, a valkyrie from Asgard. We are in your debt for coming to our aid against the draugr.”

“Pah,” Garm huffed, his tongue lolling. “Those few wisps? They mock me by daring to enter my cave. I was less aiding you than teaching them a lesson.” He sank to stomach and rested his head on his forepaws, turning his head to better look at Mist’s crumpled form.

“A valkyrie,” he continued softly, staring at Mist unblinking. “Why do you bring her here, brother Kolbyr? Do you serve Queen Hel?”

“Never,” Kolbyr spat, hackles rising at her name. “One of her own gods commanded her here.”

“Truly?” Garm’s voice was credulous. “Then her gods must truly despise her. Her Majesty has long wished to acquire a valkyrie soul. She even commanded me to try to capture one during the great battle, but I had my paws full with Tyr.”

Kolbyr paused for a moment, heart sinking. “You will take us captive for her then.”

“Not I,” Garm snorted, baring his teeth. “For eternity have I been forced to serve her here in this everlasting night. I longed for Ragnarok that my captivity might be at an end. My howl of joy has echoed twice throughout all the worlds: once when she released the blizzards of Niflheim upon Midgard, creating Fimbulwinter to signal the coming of my freedom; again when Ragnarok began and I was at last loosed from my everlasting captivity. I leapt upon Tyr, the originator of all my suffering, welcoming his sword into my heart as I tore his head from his shoulders.

“But the foul queen captured my soul as it left my body, and she has once again chained me here at the Nagrind Gates. Forever am I cursed to serve her; not even death can free me. Only the end of all things may finally break these chains. And she looks for a valkyrie that she may turn the path and avoid her final fate. No, cousin, I would keep this valkyrie from her if I could. I wish only for final peace, which I will never achieve as long as Hel holds sway.”

“I do not understand,” Kolbyr muttered, nudging Mist with his nose. “What can Hel hope to accomplish with a single valkyrie?”

“I know not,” Garm replied, voice bitter. “Her Greatness deigns not to share her plans with a lowly slave chained at her gates.”

A soft moan from Mist silenced them. Kolbyr shifted to his elven form and knelt beside her, pushing her golden hair from her face. Her eyes fluttered open, and she struggled to focus on the shadows looming above her.

“Kolbyr,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “where are the draugr? Are we still alive?”

“For the moment,” he answered dryly. “We owe our continuing lives to Garm. He drove off the draugr.”

As Mist’s gaze followed his gesture, her eyes widened and a gasp escaped her lips.

“Fear me not, raven wings,” Garm rumbled, blinking his green eyes at her. “I am a slave here, and not inclined to hurt you.”

“You…” Mist faltered, “you have my thanks, great guardian, for defeating the draugr.”

Garm shook his blood-coated shoulders. “I care not for the stench of such as they. I am curious about your presence here, though. Why have you journeyed to my cave, Mist of the valkyrie?”

“I travel here at the bidding of Hoedin and the Norns.” Mist shook off Kolbyr’s hand and pulling herself to her feet. “I am commanded to speak with your queen.”

“Do not be foolish, little bird. Queen Hel would only laugh at you, and then imprison you for her own ends. Return to your paradise and await the end of all things.”

Mist’s eyebrows drew together, and Kolbyr laid a warning hand on her arm. “You do not know of what you speak,” Mist said tightly. “As messenger for the gods, I travel where I am bid. I will not be prevented from completing my sworn mission by an overgrown dog.”

Kolbyr winced as a deep rumbling came from Garm, then let out the breath he was holding as the great wolf opened its mouth in laughter. “Do you think mocking me will force me to let you pass? I no longer take offense about my size or heritage, valkyrie.”

Biting her lip in annoyance, Mist reached into her pouch and pulled out the crystal sphere. Kolbyr had watched her pack it carefully, but he was still surprised to see it intact after the battle with the draugr.

“Wait, valkyrie, we do not even know what that is,” Kolbyr hissed in her ear.

Mist waved him to silence and held the globe high above her head. “Perhaps this will convince you to let us pass?”

Garm squinted at what she held, then leaped to his feet with a snarl. Surprised, even Kolbyr stumbled back several paces. The wolf’s breathing was heavy, forming clouds in the chill air, and his green eyes were clenched tight.

“What is it, cousin?” Kolbyr asked, directing an angry glance with Mist. “Have we somehow offended you?”

“Drop the sphere and move away,” Garm growled, not looking at them.

Mist did as the wolf asked, and together she and Kolbyr backed toward the far wall of the cave. They had barely reached a safe distance before Garm brought his heavy paw crashing down on the sphere. It had survived the battle and Mist’s fall, but the sphere could not withstand the giant wolf’s strength. It shattered, and a white mist shot with flashing colors curled from the glittering shards.

The vapor expanded until one side of the cave was completely obscured. Then it began to condense, forming itself into a hulking shape that could have been Garm’s shadow. A voice floated from the ethereal shape.

“Garm,” it whispered, “Garm. At last I am free.”

“Finna.” Garm’s voice was low, the growl of distant thunder.

An insubstantial wolf took shape in the cloud. It took several hesitant steps toward Garm and touched noses with him.

“You are chained,” the ghostly wolf whispered. “Who holds your soul? What has stained your coat so red?”

“Finna…” Garm licked his lips and turned his head away. “Please forgive me…”

“I know not of what you speak,” Finna breathed. “Do not pull away.”

Garm turned and faced away from the glowing spirit. “Do not look upon me. After Tyr slew you and imprisoned your soul, he began hunting our pups. To spare them your fate, I was forced to kill them myself.” He winced at Finna’s gasp but pressed on. “When Tyr found me, he dubbed me kinslayer and enslaved me to Queen Hel. Our children’s blood still stains my chest, forever to remind me of what I did. Here at the gates of Hel have I stayed, fearing I would never see you again, yet fearing to face you. It has been an eternity.”

Silence fell over the cavern. Finna seemed to shrink in upon herself, fading until her transparent body was a mere suggestion. Standing with his head down, Garm did not turn.

“I will search for them,” Finna’s whispered then, sorrow thick in her voice. “I will gather their souls, and I will return to you Garm. What you did sickens me, but their deaths did spare our children further suffering. Perhaps, when I return, I will have forgiven you.”

Her outline dissolved, fading into the night outside the cave mouth. Garm turned too late to see her go.

“Garm—” Mist began, stepping forward to break the heavy silence.

“Leave me, valkyrie,” the great wolf muttered, slinking to a corner and collapsing. “Travel to Hel if you wish; I will not stop you. My mate is free because of you, so I wish you well on your journey. I care not where you go now.”

Mist turned opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, she walked silently through the cave mouth into the bitter night of Niflheim. Kolbyr followed, respectfully averting his gaze from Garm’s sorrow.

“Cousin?” Kolbyr stopped. Garm had lifted his head slightly and faced the elf. “Do you travel with the valkyrie? I had thought you would return to your caverns.”

“I am bound,” Kolbyr replied softly. “It is my fate to accompany her to Hel.”

“Farewell then, wolf-brother,” Garm said, turning back to the wall. “I pray that your chains are lighter than mine.”

“If we survive, I will find a way to loose your chains,” Kolbyr promised suddenly, heart aching for the great creature. He hesitated a moment longer before following Mist into the storm, but Garm made no reply.