“Durok the Demolisher! Legions of Hel!” Hela shouted. “Kill Thor and my father. Let none stand in your way!”

The assembled masses of dishonored dead, broken to their Lady’s fist, struck weapons to shields as one. A sound intended to intimidate even the most stout of warriors.

Thor, son of Odin and God of Thunder, and Valkyrior Captain, Axe, were unmoved.

“She did not mention my name, Lord,” Axe said.

“Perhaps you are free to depart, Captain,” Thor said.

Loki had moved away from the duo but remained behind his gold-hued shield.

“Stand with us, brother. Abandon this madness.”

“And surrender the throne? You need look no further than yourself to see madness. My weapon awaits and the Golden Realm shall be mine!”

“Ever the fool, brother!” Thor spun his hammer with ever greater speed then loosed it.

Durok, creation of Norn magic that could not speak, charged on. There was but one task on his mind. He began to ignite his fists. Mjolnir, the Crusher, struck him square in the chest. The resulting concussion wave knocked down two ranks of the dead on his flanks. The Demolisher was knocked to the ground but rose to his feet far too quickly.

“As I feared, Durok is no less powerful than when last we clashed,” Thor said.

Fueled by rage and determination, raw concussive energy ripped forth from Durok. It was deflected by the spinning shield Thor made with Mjolnir. Stray bolts struck the legion of dead and almost Axe.

“This fight is mine, Captain! See to the masses. You fight for Asgard! Here we stand!”

“What of Loki?”

“Channel the enemy between you and him. They will give my brother pause.”

Perhaps I can defeat Durok before Loki escapes to find what ever horror he seeks to uncover in Hel, he thought.

Goddess of the dead, daughter of Loki and a giantess, Hela stood in the air looking down on a battle in her realm. She knew it was one which bards would sing of until Ragnarok comes.

A CLASH OF GODS AND GIANTS

By C. William Russette

“Hail, All-Father. By your command Tyr is here,” the war god exclaimed.

The walk to Hlidskalf, the High Seat of Odin, King of the Norse Gods, was a long one. Tyr had never been invited to make the journey before. Not when standing with Odin or against him. The terrain was rock, snow and barren dirt. Nothing grew there. The trees were without leaves. Nothing sprouted from the hard ground. It was like all the magic and all the life had been culled into one point of incredible potency. The very top of the strange and jagged mountain, where Odin alone took in the sights of the Nine Worlds in which he ruled, was enchanted like no other place in Asgard.

From the Hlidskalf Odin could see anywhere in the Nine Worlds.

Not for the first time Tyr wondered if Odin made the High Seat of the surroundings or was it there when he became All-Father. Did he destroy this area to serve his own purpose? For anyone to use the seat was to suffer Odin’s rage and the High Seats curse. Frey of the Vanir would attest to that.

“Come, Tyr Hymerson. Tell me of the preparations. Time is short.” Odin stroked the fur of the great wolf on his left.

The great wolf on his right sat rigid and alert. Their names were Freki and Geri. Tyr could never tell one from the other.

“Sire, with respect, from here you can well see the stage of the preparations. Were you not here, far-seeing Heimdall could tell you anything you wanted to know. May we speak plainly?”

Odin grinned beneath his long mustache.

“You are as direct as ever, Tyr. Your king wanted to express his gladness that you have returned to us. Your wisdom in the heat of battle is essential. Doubly so with Thor on his own mission.

“Young Magni is at your command. His strength is almost unprecedented and I have gifted him with Thunderstrike. I believe he will serve you well. The Warriors three, Balder and Sif are mended and in position?”

Tyr tried to hide the needle felt at hearing Sif’s name though he knew that he could not truly hide anything from All-Father Odin if he wished to know it.

“Sif remains in the House of Healing under Idunn’s care. Doubtless she will be hard to keep from battle should she be well enough.”

“An unfortunate truth. Try to keep her safe, Warlord Tyr,” Odin said.

“I would find it easier to win the battle alone without both hands, my king.”

“Defend the wall at all costs. Go forth with my blessing.”

“For Asgard and Honor!” Tyr shouted, turned and departed.

Odin watched him leave and stroked Freki’s head affectionately. His white, bearded chin he rested on his hand.

Geri growled.

“I think his feelings for her will bring trouble as well, Geri. We shall see how the day ends first, hey?”

“They will be within striking range soon, Tyr,” Heimdall said.

The steadfast sentinel kept his eyes on the distant cloud of dust and smoke that had drawn ever nearer since dawn. The force of jotunn and trolls retreated after the last surge and then seemingly disappeared. Tyr knew they would return. He did not need the guardian of the Rainbow Bridge, called Bifrost, to tell him. The god had served well and Tyr was glad Odin had allowed him to watch from within the city until this latest attack on the city of Asgard was crushed.

“Understood. Keep your eyes and ears drinking in our fell enemy’s activities, Heimdall,” Tyr said.

Heimdall nodded and stood stock-still.

“Captains, to me!” Tyr bellowed.

The Warriors Three: valiant Fandral, Hogun the Grim and Volstagg answered the call. Balder, Vidar, Frey and Magni did as well.

“There is but one way to assault the city, as you know. None will enter as they had earlier. The gates are shut and sealed. Each of you have been given a post and warriors to command. Thor does his duty in Hel and we will do ours here,” Tyr said.

Tyr drew his rune sword and raised it to the sky.

“By my sword and life do I swear that not one of our foes will breach the wall built so long ago! Long have the jotunn and evil trolls sought the destruction of the Golden Realm. Jotunheim and the dark holes have emptied all their evil and brought it to our gate!

“Our strength surpasses even the jotunn. When I am through, there will be none left to raise an axe until Ragnarok! Swear by your swords as I have, children of Asgard and Vanaheim!”

As one the captains of the warriors of Asgard declared their vow. All the men, and one woman were heard. Tyr turned on the surprising voice so melodic to his ear.

“I will take my position as well, Warlord,” Sif said.

“Lady, are you strong enough to fight? Your injuries-” Fandral said.

“Draw your sword and I will show you strength!”

Magni smirked.

“Be at ease, Lady Sif. The question is a good one. Can you hold your position?” Tyr asked.

“This is my home as well. None of you are at your strongest now. I have proven myself in battle. I will hold the line if I be the last standing on the wall, Warlord Tyr,” Sif said.

“Tyr!” Heimdall roared. “The enemy attacks!”

Thor charged at silent Durok. What could possibly be said between two of the strongest beings in all the Nine Worlds, even if one was not mute? Thor had fought the creation more than once. Once to victory, the other ended in his defeat. There was too much at stake to hesitate or hold back.

Durok ran with equal fervor and energy. The range was with the Thunder God. Durok either did not care or was oblivious. The blow came down, striking the Demolisher in the top of the head knocking him knee deep in the ground.

Thor struck again but Durok ducked and landed a blow with fists-linked. The prince of Asgard flew back, into, and through the Capital City of Hel’s impressive buildings.

Hela screamed.

Durok leaped into the air. He landed out of sight.

Captain Axe of the Valkyrior, with a flick of the wrist, decapitated the nearest dead soldier. He looked like he died a leper but many of those amassed did, it was hard to tell. She took up the dead man’s spear and hurled it over the masses marching on her. Many turned their empty sockets or cloudy eyes to the gray sky until the spear disappeared from view.

“For Odin!” Axe shouted.

The Valkyrie’s spear became a blur to all but Hela. (She remained removed from the battle and safely out of reach.) The spear of the Chooser of the Slain blasted through skulls and sundered ribs almost a dozen with every strike and deft maneuver. None were the equal of her skill. None came close to breaching the diameter of her spears reach. Limbs fell and flesh whipped through the air in pieces both recognizable and not. Axe became a raven-haired scythe of the damned cutting down the enemy. None could touch her.

She cut through her exhilaration then and noted the sea of the dead bearing down on her. That was insignificant. Thor had carried the battle elsewhere and that was none of her concern either. What vexed her terribly was the one who was missing.

“Where are you, Loki?” Axe said.

The tide of the dead surged.

Loki had spent far more eldritch energy than he had intended to, to get this far. He knew that clod of a half-brother Thor was going to appear. He had hoped his daughter Hela would have been more aggressive in her attack. Sadly she was not. Now Thor fought for his life. The Death Rider fought the endless dead with mere weapons! Both would be out of the picture for some time.

The problem being, Loki was stuck without suitable distraction with which to use in the aid of leaving this grim scene and on to the goal. His ability to maintain a complete shield was soon to fade. He was trapped with the malevolent and obedient host of Hela a mere ten feet from reaching him. A plan was needed. Quickly.

A groan and a hiss made Loki spin around. Two of the dead had hacked their way through the magic shield.

“Fie,” Loki spat.

He hurled bolts of destructive force. The heads of each wrinkled and sagging- skinned dead warrior exploded. Others quickly stepped in behind them. Loki fired again and again but with each successive dead lackey laid low another widened the rips in the shield. Soon the bulwark would fail altogether and then what? Incinerate all the dead of Hel from the dawn of time? Failing that, fisticuffs?

Nay.

Loki shifted the rapidly failing golden dome of golden energy. The sorcerer spun his fist and control of the shield. The entire dome spun faster and faster. Many dead tried to reach within the constantly moving openings only to be shredded and shot back onto their comrades. Loki began to sweat from the exertion but the golden dome began to move away from the center of conflict. Dead limbs and meat were mowed and sent flying with each foot or progress made.

“Father of lies!” Hela shouted. She walked through the air, drawing closer to Loki.

“Stay back, daughter! This is no concern of yours! I will have my way! The glory is within my reach! You can stand with me!” Loki shouted over his shoulder still straining.

“None take from me in my own lands, father. Not even you!” Hela screeched.

A storm of emerald and black energies swirled from Hela’s raised fists. She released them with a grimace and a scream. The bolts struck the golden barrier of Loki with blazing results. A wave of fiery power destroyed the dead of Hela twice the size of Loki’s bulwark.

When the smoke cleared there was nothing left of Loki the fire god.

Thor spun his hammer. Lightning sparked and shot in small bolts from the illusionary uru wheel. As expected, Durok was falling into view. Thor chose to remain where he landed that they might battle without interference.

“Know this, silent thing. It is Thor you face and not some easily trod upon waif. Surrender!”

Thor released Mjolnir.

The air burned as the ancient hammer stormed through the air. Durok tried to worm away from the impact but while falling freely there was little he could do. The impact shattered what few glass windows existed in Hel’s capital city. Durok was knocked into a spin that took him through the building he was to land on and into its neighbor.

Thor charged. There would be little time to get the battle finished and Durok was a creature that was every bit as strong as Thor. They could fight each other for a century and not have a clear victor.

Mjolnir came to its master with a satisfying slap into his hand.

The goal was not to defeat Durok. He had not even been part of the problem until he followed the real task down to the frozen depths of Niffleheim and finally Hel itself.

Loki, you have gone truly mad this time. I fear for what our father has hidden away in the land of the damned. How had he convinced Hela to keep such a weapon in her realm? Why would he put it here? Because in all time only Balder and myself have forced our way into Hel and back out again, Thor decided.

Raw kinetic energy came unexpectedly in a stream of hate from the hiding Durok. Thor raised his hammer to intersect the worst of the beam. Still the god of thunder drew closer. Durok’s brow creased with the effort. Thor marched on. He was putting everything into destroying Thor. That was plain. Thor drew within feet of the Demolisher.

Finally Durok ceased the bombardment.

Hel’s gray sky and yellowing clouds rumbled, foretelling a doom.

“Surrender now, Durok!”

BOOM!

“Or I swear you will never leave this land of the damned!”

Another pounding of thunder detonated above and lightning came at its master’s call. The blast centered around Durok but the entire dim block felt the power that crashed down on Hel from the heavens.

They came.

The giants of Jotunheim marched at an easy pace for they covered great distances with their stride. Great slabs of hammered metal and sewn leather was their armor. Some carried spears made from trees, some axes with both stone and metal heads. The jotunn that bore watching closest were those bearing metal, finely sharpened weapons. Those were the smartest and most dangerous.

The Einherjar, the once-fighters, born on Midgard of mortal woman and chosen by Odin’s valkyrie to stand with the gods at the end times stood ready before the great wall. Odin armed them and set at Tyr’s disposal for the coming battle. Spear, sword and shield at the ready, the worthy dead waited for the enemy to march closer.

The giants remembered how Odin tricked one of theirs into building the wall for nothing. It was the first of many slights and murders given permission by the All-father for centuries. There have been many wars between Jotunn and Aesir but the giants have vowed that this would be the last.

The clamor of stone and metal on wood rocked the field of war. The giants smashed their weapons together as they marched. The doom they promised drew nearer with every step.

The Einherjar stood ready and unmoving from their formations. The Aesir and the Vanir of Vanaheim had their eyes locked on the great force of hundreds marching, smashing their way ever closer. No one talks. There is no more to say.

This is not the end of Asgard, each warrior vows. All knows their duty and will stand their post no matter the cost.

The ground shook, like when the first giant, Ymir, fell before Odin’s spear. Tyr leaned over the great wall at its center. Again the ground shook. The rumble centered before the wall of Asgard. Then the ground itself began to fall into itself.

“Einherjar!” Tyr roared with raised rune sword.

But the once-fighters were turning already. Calmly, many would later claim expectantly. Harokin, leader of Odin’s Chosen, drew his own sword.

“Lock shields!” Harokin commanded.

All groups of warriors locked shields and raised spears towards the wall, aimed at the cleft in the ground. The hole continued to grow. Some warriors fell in uncontrollably. Rock trolls greeted them with axe and mace and metal pounders. They had thought to catch the Asgardians off guard. Those Einherjar that did not fall soon began jumping into the cleft, upon the marching trolls.

The jotunn, towering two and three times the size of any Asgardian save Silent Vidar, continued their march. Their slamming weapons went unheard though it would be mere minutes before first contact. The Einherjar had turned their backs to the giants. Loki promised disarray and chaos for the ploy of a two front attack. The Asgardian-dead speared trolls and when they had no more spears they drew axes and swords. All on the trolls, all facing away from the giants. In the midst of bloody war, only then did the trolls realize that the ploy was great only if the warriors ran from the surprise attack. If they turned and fought, if they were impossibly prepared, then the trolls would be fighting an uphill battle. They had given the high ground to the Asgardians. Amidst the gore-splattered trolls one thought was prominent: when were the giants going to clear the way for them?

Tyr leaned on the battlements of the great wall of Asgard. A smirk hid beneath his long black mustache. Heimdall, Guardian of the Rainbow Bridge Bifrost, stood beside him expressionless.

“Trolls never learn. Did they really think they could dig so close to Asgard and escape your ears, Guardian?” Tyr said.

“Who can say? The jotunn are in range, Warlord,” Heimdall said.

“So they are,” Tyr turned around to the courtyard. “Stand ready!”

Axes were raised. As one, the reply was shouted. “Ready!”

The jotunn, within range of the Einherjar, found new urgency in their bodies and the pace quickened. Axes and cudgels of all sorts were squeezed in great, frigid hands. Their owner in hungry anticipation of the easy kills that were spread out with their backs exposed. The trolls had done their job. The giants of Jotunheim ached to do theirs against the ancient and much hated enemies.

“Loose!” Tyr commanded.

The axes fell as one.

The blood of the giants flowed eagerly. Ballista spat their bolts up over the walls and into the meat of the advancing giants. Bolts honed to a fine edge and longer than thejotunn were tall, penetrated icy bodies. They severed arms and legs cleanly. The bolts took many in the face and some watched their bodies fall away as their heads tumbled free.

The charge faltered.

“Loose!” Tyr commanded again.

Trebuchet heaved great chunks of broken masonry or stone cut from the surrounding mountains. The jotunn, still reeling from the first volley stared dumbfounded at the massive blocks. There were no near-impacts. The giants were either reduced to wet muddy patches or crippled beyond the ability to continue.

“Catapults, loose when ready” Tyr commanded.

Smaller balls of stone covered in pitch and set ablaze soared over the great wall of Asgard. The range of the weapons made them ideal for hitting targets too close for the other siege weapons to reach.

The jotunn avoided the great stones hefted by the Aesir’s weapons when they could. More often than not the stone broke skulls and bones in equal measure. To their credit they did not retreat. Those that could, rose and marched on, watching the sky for a killer blow while holding their weapons tight.

None reached the troll made crag where the Einherjar fought ever downward. None on the great wall could see their advance troops they were in so deep.

“Only a third remain, Warlord,” Heimdall said.

“Yes, I see that. I also see that this has been far too easy. What am I missing, Guardian?” Tyr said taking in the battle before him.

Heimdall stood frozen a moment.

“I cannot say, Warlord. All is as it appears to be. The jotunn should have routed by now.”

“They have not. They have something in mind that we cannot see.”

“Open the gate,” Tyr turned to face the warriors. “Vidar! Take to the field and slaughter any still standing!”

Vidar, silent son of Odin and a giantess, raised his spear and commanded his warriors, men and woman, to follow him. They marched for the gate that began to open.

“Magni! It is said that you have strength to rival the thunder god! Can you match his prowess on the field of battle? Do you match his courage? Prove your worth, lad!”

Newcomer Magni raised the uru mace Thunderstrike and commanded his troop to fall in behind Vidar’s company of warriors.

“Warlord, you of course see that if it is a trap these warriors march to their death?”

“Do you fear for their safety or that they will not make it into Valhalla? No one is safe this day. As for their death, if they fight like true warriors the All-father will grant them a seat at his table.” Tyr said and looked down on the bloody field of battle.

Magni lead the charge of his warriors running at full speed and roaring Odin’s name. The troop, following him, echoed the cry. The frost giants had already begun to form up into one group. Seeing the gates open and their prey running out bolstered their ferocity. The jotunn answered Magni’s cry with their own.

The son of Thor raised a huge spear from the corpse of one of the giants slain by trebuchet debris and threw it over the heads of the enemy, dedicating the battle to the All-father. The giants paid no heed, it was nothing new to many of them. Magni accented the charge with a concussive blast from his new mace, Thunderstrike,  destroying one giants face. When he came to the first of his foes he ducked low to avoid the spiked club that could kill a lesser god. Magni leapt, Thunderstrike shattered a giants knee and the thirty foot humanoid fell in agony. When the giant tried to sit up Magni broke his jaw.

“None step through the gate!” Magni commanded.

The Asgardians roared their approval and tore into the enemy.

Captain Axe of the valkyrie stood on the bodies of the dead she had slain, again. Still these dead of brown and grey armor and mottled flesh surged at her on every side. The spear kept then at bay uniformly. Thrusting, slashing and skull-crushing the Valkyrior moved scant feet at a time. Always was she standing higher because the dead kept piling up beneath her.

“Chooser of the Slain, how long can ever you keep this up? My army will never tire. Eventually you will, then you shall err and injury upon injury will do you in. Your soul will be mine, Axe. And why?”

Axe ducked, cut a once-leper in half, decapitated another and swung her spear in a wide arc slicing through a dozen foes granting her a moment to breathe.

Why indeed, Axe thought.

“For Thor? If he is not dead yet he soon will be. He is mine, it is just a matter of time. You belong in Valhalla with Odin, servicing the Einherjar!” Hela laughed, her head tilted back, she was so possessed.

Captain Axe aimed and threw her spear, a mark of her station and gift from the All-father himself. The steel screamed as it cut through the air. The goddess of death saw the weapon too late. The spear struck her under her right breast sinking in to the shaft.

Hela was speechless. The dead mass stopped in place.

The half-dead goddess took the shaft in her hand and slowly eased it out from between her ribs.

“You underestimate me, valkyrior,” Hela said.

Axe stood ready. The army of dead men and woman were as statues.

The spear cleared her armor without blood on the metal. An emerald glow snapped to life on the hand that held the fine weapon. The green hue ran the length of the spear, encasing it.

“To think so simple an attack would give me pause!” Hela hurled the charged spear at Axe.

The valkyrior used every ounce of speed to avoid being struck. The spear hit the ground behind her and exploded. Hundreds of the dead army were flattened. Axe could do nothing to avoid the blast.

One shambling dead was slower than the others. The severely injured, the limbless crawling and those deprived of some or all of their senses were these stragglers. Still, even those poor wretches must heed Hela’s call. Behind all of them, was this one. When even those crippled few were out of sight the last dead stood straight, the horrid gait fell away and the form slowly shifted from gray and brown to green and gold.

Loki took to the air but kept close to the ground. Into the center of the city, tearing along while keeping the dead gaggle of Hela and possibly Axe on his left. The end of the quest, the beginning of the era of Loki would start deep within the hall of Hela.

It was called Eljudnir. A great but sad palace came into view.

Loki accelerated mere feet off of the ground.

A wide grin took the fire god’s expression.

To be continued . . .