The trunk washed away, crashing downriver. Izmerelda was left standing alone on the other side, wailing at the loss of her comrades.
“You okay?” Abigail asked
“Yeah.” Hugo was pale but nodded firmly. “What now?”
“Now we find Thor.”
Chapter 20
They hiked out of the ravine to a low saddle. A valley spread out before them, scattered boulders pocking the snowy expanse. Buzzards circled lazily overhead. Near a small stand of trees, a large fire burned, sending up a black plume of smoke. Several brawny men stood around it, dressed in thick fur capes and armed with heavy swords that hung at their sides. A few hulking hunting dogs prowled about, sniffing for scraps.
One man in the middle of the group stood out. Golden-haired and broad-shouldered, he was a good head taller than the others. He raised a mug, shouting out something, and his companions roared their approval. Over the fire, a large boar turned on a spit.
“Is that …” Abigail couldn’t say his name, breathless at the sight of the mighty god.
“Thor,” Hugo breathed out, as awestruck as she.
“How can you be sure?”
“Look. His hammer is strapped to his side.”
He had his back to them, but when the god turned, flames glinted off the shiny weapon at his waist. Abigail’s heart soared. “It’s him. He has the hammer.”
“And the Belt of Strength, don’t forget,” Hugo said as the god’s cloak parted enough for them to catch the golden sheen. “He’s even wearing his gauntlets.” The god’s hands were encased in a pair of golden gloves.
“So how do we get Thor to hand over his most precious items?”
“By outsmarting him,” Hugo said confidently.
“And how do we do that?”
“I’ve got some ideas. Ready to play along?”
She sighed. “Do I have a choice?”
They started walking down the hill in plain sight. At first, no one noticed them, but as they drew nearer, one of the hounds began barking.
The warriors all turned. Several of them drew their swords, forming a line in front of the fire.
Thor pushed through to see what was happening. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Abigail and Hugo. “Children, what brings you into the wilds of Jotunheim?”
They stopped in front of him, craning their heads back to see. His golden hair glowed in the afternoon sun. He seemed so big, so powerful, so impossibly godlike.
Hugo’s tongue was tied. “I-i-it …”
Thor squatted down, bringing his face in line with Hugo’s. “It?”
“I-it is an honor to meet you,” Hugo managed.
Thor winked. “Not every day you meet a god.”
“I’ve met gods before,” Abigail said. “I’ve met Odin. And Vor.”
Thor swiveled to look at her. “You’ve met my father?”
Abigail nodded. “He came to see me once.”
“Then you must be special. Tell me, what is your name, child?”
“Abigail. I am … that is … I am a witch.”
Thor frowned. “Why would my father waste time on a witch? He has no fondness for them.”
Abigail shrugged. “I suppose because I’m different.”
“Different how?”
“Tell him,” Hugo urged. “Tell him who your father is.”
Abigail hesitated, searching for the right words.
“This sounds like a longer story,” Thor said. “Pray, come sit by the fire so that we may be comfortable, and you can tell me everything.”
He stood and strode back to the center of the camp. Hugo and Abigail followed, slightly awed by the large figures that stood silently by as the children found a small pile of furs and sank down. Someone passed them a plate of food, and they ate their fill of roasted boar and boiled potatoes.
Thor leaned back on his elbow, a mug of steaming liquid cradled in one hand. “So, children, tell me why I should listen to this story?”
“You knew my father.” Abigail set her empty plate to the side. One of the hounds came over and eagerly licked the remains.
Thor stared at her, then laughed loud and long. The others joined in. “Child, you said you were a witchling, did you not? I don’t know anyone who consorts with witches.”
“Yes, you do,” Hugo said. “It was an old friend of yours. His name was Aurvendil.”
The entire camp went still. Thor stared at the contents of his mug, swirling it around before he finally spoke in a steely voice. “Do not mention the name of a great warrior in the same breath as a witch, boy, or you will find yourself without your tongue.”
“It’s true,” Abigail said. “Not the Aurvendil you knew, but that story about how you threw his toe into the sky and it became a star? I think part of his spirit continued on. It must have gotten lonely up there, because one day the gods allowed him to come back down to this world, and he met my mother.”
“She’s lying,” one of the warriors said. “Witches have no heart.”
“That’s right,” they all agreed.
“That’s what our code dictates,” Abigail said. “So there’s no reason my mother should have fallen for this Aurvendil, but here I am. I met him, you know.”
Thor frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I was there too,” Hugo said. “He came down from the heavens when Abigail needed him most and filled her with starshine magic.”
“This is preposterous.” Thor stood up to kick a log into the fire. “You are full of nonsense. Someone has put you up to this.”
Hugo looked at Abigail and then cleared his throat. “The truth is, we’ve come to warn you.”
“Warn me? Do I look as if I need protection?” Thor laughed, and his men joined in.
“We’ve just come from Utgard-Loki’s palace. The king of the giants has been boasting to everyone about how he bested you.”
Thor flushed but dismissed Hugo’s words with an impatient wave. “An old story. All know it’s only because he used trickery and magic to deceive my very senses.”
“Yes, but he’s issued a new challenge,” Hugo said. “To prove to all that he’s greater than the mighty Thor, he invites you to his palace for another round of wits, this time without his magic.”
Thor pinned Hugo with his stare. “Without his magic I would gladly face him. How do I know it’s not another of his tricks?”
“Because he gave up his fjalnar, the charm that contains his magic. He’s sitting in his palace on the highest peak across the river, unable to move, just waiting for you to face him.”
Thor drew the hammer from his side. “Then I will go beat down his gates with my mighty Mjolnir and show him just what kind of god I am.” He hefted the golden hammer in the light of the fire to shouts of approval.
“Er, that’s just it,” Hugo said. “He’s telling everyone you’re too scared to face him without your hammer. That your courage comes from Mjolnir and … well … without it you’re nothing but a … coward.”
“What?” Thor roared with outrage, throwing his hammer across the clearing. It spun through the air, then hit the side of the ravine with a loud crash, causing a small avalanche of snow before flying back into his hand. “No one calls Thor a coward and lives to tell. The giant king will die a slow and painful death at my hands.”