my mind.
‘Any other monsters down here I should know about?’
‘The dragon, Nidhogg,’ said Modgud. ‘He lives far below on the Shore of Corpses, twisted around the roots of Yggdrasil. I don’t think he’d eat you – he likes dead bodies, mainly.’
‘Seen him,’ I said.
‘There’s also the black-burnt fire giant, Surt, who rules the southern kingdom across the void. He stands guard at the border in the flames holding a fiery sword – no one who isn’t from that land can enter.’
It wasn’t hard to cross a fire demon off my calling list.
The full horror of where I was hit me again.
Baldr – I hadn’t known how lonely I was until I’d met him. And now –
Just thinking of his name convulsed me. I breathed heavily, then started to cough. The fumes were indescribable in their horror. You’d expect after sharing a cave with a blood-soaked wolf and a poisonous snake (let alone myself) I’d be used to the stench of death.
‘It stinks here.’
‘Really?’ said Modgud. She sniffed the rancid air a few times. ‘Can’t say I notice.’
I lurched carefully to my feet, trying not to slip on the dripping rocks. I watched the roaming, agitated corpses, flapping about like insects in fire. There wassomething mesmerising about their swooping motion. What was less hypnotic were their whiny voices and shrill complaints – a great stew of misery.
What a mess. What a horrible mess it was down here. The dead and their angry empty eyes – ugh.
I made my decision then.
Niflheim is the world before the world, the land that exploded into being when time was young and Midgard was silent. I would lift the corners of this ancient chaos and create a new world.
The frightened, mortal gods had imprisoned me and my brothers, but at the End of Days we would break free and rage against them. That’s what the prophesy foretold.
Yet until that happy twilight when the doomed gods were destroyed –
I swore three things:
1. I would find a way out.
2. I would see Baldr again.
3. I would be avenged.
20
RAIN-DAMP SLEET-COLD HALL
IRST THINGS FIRST . Before I measured out the boundaries of Hel within the blackness of Niflheim, I needed to turn my mind to hall-building. (That’s right. I’m going to call my realm Hel. What better name than my own?)
I am a queen; I wanted a hall to rival any in Asgard. There are great riches here to be plundered, if the wealthI’ve seen the dead hauling after them is any indication.
Unfortunately (I am so uniquely cursed and unlucky that everything to do with me could begin with that word), I have to design and build my citadel myself. My palace is the first here.
Of course, it needs to be enormous. Greater than any palace in Asgard. There are an awful lot of dead. Why did Odin make his driftwood so weak that they only live for a blink of a raven’s eye before cluttering up my kingdom?
How I would love to keep all those wailing shades far, far away from me. If only I could hang a ‘Beware of the Monster’ sign on my gates, build my hall and lock the doors for eternity.
But I am subject to One-Eye’s decree, and I must offer a welcome.
I draw up my list of must-haves.
1. Location. Location. Location. That is key. No building beside a spewing volcano, or sulphurousswamp, or raging rivers flowing with chewed carcasses. Believe me, places that don’t contain at least one of the above are hard to find in Niflheim.
Don’t misunderstand me. Even if some sun-dappled meadow with gurgling stream and gambolling sheep existed down here, I wouldn’t build my hall there. Are you crazy? All beauty does is highlight my ugliness. I prefer to hide in the shadows. There and not there. This hall would be mine and I could please myself. A ripple of pleasure pricked me at the thought.
2. My hall must be far from Modgud’s bridge. Let my guests get past the Shore of Corpses and the dragon first before they find my gates and slip inside my door, never to leave again.
3. My hall must
‘Any other monsters down here I should know about?’
‘The dragon, Nidhogg,’ said Modgud. ‘He lives far below on the Shore of Corpses, twisted around the roots of Yggdrasil. I don’t think he’d eat you – he likes dead bodies, mainly.’
‘Seen him,’ I said.
‘There’s also the black-burnt fire giant, Surt, who rules the southern kingdom across the void. He stands guard at the border in the flames holding a fiery sword – no one who isn’t from that land can enter.’
It wasn’t hard to cross a fire demon off my calling list.
The full horror of where I was hit me again.
Baldr – I hadn’t known how lonely I was until I’d met him. And now –
Just thinking of his name convulsed me. I breathed heavily, then started to cough. The fumes were indescribable in their horror. You’d expect after sharing a cave with a blood-soaked wolf and a poisonous snake (let alone myself) I’d be used to the stench of death.
‘It stinks here.’
‘Really?’ said Modgud. She sniffed the rancid air a few times. ‘Can’t say I notice.’
I lurched carefully to my feet, trying not to slip on the dripping rocks. I watched the roaming, agitated corpses, flapping about like insects in fire. There wassomething mesmerising about their swooping motion. What was less hypnotic were their whiny voices and shrill complaints – a great stew of misery.
What a mess. What a horrible mess it was down here. The dead and their angry empty eyes – ugh.
I made my decision then.
Niflheim is the world before the world, the land that exploded into being when time was young and Midgard was silent. I would lift the corners of this ancient chaos and create a new world.
The frightened, mortal gods had imprisoned me and my brothers, but at the End of Days we would break free and rage against them. That’s what the prophesy foretold.
Yet until that happy twilight when the doomed gods were destroyed –
I swore three things:
1. I would find a way out.
2. I would see Baldr again.
3. I would be avenged.
20
RAIN-DAMP SLEET-COLD HALL
IRST THINGS FIRST . Before I measured out the boundaries of Hel within the blackness of Niflheim, I needed to turn my mind to hall-building. (That’s right. I’m going to call my realm Hel. What better name than my own?)
I am a queen; I wanted a hall to rival any in Asgard. There are great riches here to be plundered, if the wealthI’ve seen the dead hauling after them is any indication.
Unfortunately (I am so uniquely cursed and unlucky that everything to do with me could begin with that word), I have to design and build my citadel myself. My palace is the first here.
Of course, it needs to be enormous. Greater than any palace in Asgard. There are an awful lot of dead. Why did Odin make his driftwood so weak that they only live for a blink of a raven’s eye before cluttering up my kingdom?
How I would love to keep all those wailing shades far, far away from me. If only I could hang a ‘Beware of the Monster’ sign on my gates, build my hall and lock the doors for eternity.
But I am subject to One-Eye’s decree, and I must offer a welcome.
I draw up my list of must-haves.
1. Location. Location. Location. That is key. No building beside a spewing volcano, or sulphurousswamp, or raging rivers flowing with chewed carcasses. Believe me, places that don’t contain at least one of the above are hard to find in Niflheim.
Don’t misunderstand me. Even if some sun-dappled meadow with gurgling stream and gambolling sheep existed down here, I wouldn’t build my hall there. Are you crazy? All beauty does is highlight my ugliness. I prefer to hide in the shadows. There and not there. This hall would be mine and I could please myself. A ripple of pleasure pricked me at the thought.
2. My hall must be far from Modgud’s bridge. Let my guests get past the Shore of Corpses and the dragon first before they find my gates and slip inside my door, never to leave again.
3. My hall must
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