Apparently, it was going to take a while for Surtur to realize his men…and he had only sent men, for whatever reason…were not coming back.

 

Which left me more time to examine the tree. It did indeed seem to be nothing more than a dead ash. At a high altitude if we were on Earth, but the same rules likely did not apply here, in the realm of the giants.

 

I wanted Kanesha beside me badly. It was like I thought she would know what to do.

 

No, I honestly did want her intelligence. Ebba was hurt, but she said she would heal quickly. Reminded me dwarves were tough.

 

Still, it was keeping her and Jorun out of the picture, talking to each other quietly. I, Mike and Thruor had disposed of the bodies by tossing them off the mountain. It felt disrespectful, but we could not exactly bury them and did not fancy them as companions until the next wave got here.

 

Which I could only hope included Surtur. We could not hold this mountain forever, and they might not be under orders not to kill me.

 

Or intentionally ignoring those orders. Either way, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill the others.

 

I had brought them here, I was responsible. And if I…

 

“I don’t want this,” I murmured to the tree. “But it seems to be where every choice has taken me.”

 

Which might imply that I had chosen something before I could remember a choice, even before I was who I was.
Chosen something. Chosen what? No, I knew what.

 

This was my place now. I just had to do one more thing, and I hesitated only because of tactics.
And because of Kanesha, who could not be here without dwarven help. Could we risk that? If she lost the necklace, if it was damaged, the woman I loved would burn.

 

Sacrifice.

 

I was willing to make sacrifices if I had to. I was not willing to ask them of her. Which was why I wanted to end this, go back to Earth.

 

Not for long.

 

Just for the rest of her life.

 

I wondered in that moment. In that moment I was almost certain I would never see the woman I loved again.

 

Never see Earth again. Never talk to my friends. I had to save the world, but it would not be for me.

 

And silence settled down around us. Nobody came, for now.

 

It was a miserable thought, but perhaps he was calling our bluff. Waiting to see what we would do.

 

Perhaps he thought he could get us to do it, escape dying and…what?

 

Continue to be the king?

 

I suspected it was too late to put things back exactly the way they were.

 

Far too late for that.

 

He did not. What came instead was a small party of elite forces, making their way up the trail. “What now?” I asked Thruor.

 

“We kill them. There’s only seven of them and we’re in a good position.”

 

I nodded, although I waited on drawing my sword until I was ready to pounce. It had a tendency to glow.

 

And make interesting singing noises. The dwarves had not given me a weapon meant for subtlety.

 

Of course, that was fine. Despite my parentage, I wasn’t meant for subtlety either. I launched at the giant with a battle cry.

 

He turned, but not fast enough to keep my blade from slicing through his shield…and his shield hand. Battle was joined, and I followed up with a kick to throw him back, away from me.

 

He scrabbled, but with only one hand he wasn’t able to stay on the trail, and he went rolling down the mountainside.

 

I didn’t think he was dead, but he was out of the picture for a while and I whirled to deal with another, entirely aware of how small a space we had to work with here.

 

I heard various other cries around me, a feminine yelp indicating one of the dwarves had been hit. Their voices were not like giant voices, a quite different timbre.

 

I’d have to worry about that later, right now it was taking all I had to stay alive and hold my own, with two very well-trained and experienced fire giants on me. Not much I could do about it.

 

We had to kill or capture them so Surtur would wonder where they were and maybe come himself next time.

 

And these were no conscripts. I felt no guilt. “Present for you, sister,” I couldn’t help but call as I slashed my blade through the throat of one of them.

 

He went down, but his companion only seemed to be emboldened. “You.”

 

“If you kill me, Surtur won’t be happy.”

 

“I don’t care. You caused all the trouble.”

 

Whatever else he was going to say was silenced by the throwing axe that hit him in the back. I dodged the fallen body. “Thanks for the assist!”

 

I didn’t bother retrieving the axe. There were still three of them standing and I moved in on the nearest, only to have Mike deal with him.

 

Yeah. Thruor had been right about us being able to take these guys, although only when the last one went down did I notice at all that I was bleeding.

 

Adrenalin and battle fever, I supposed. The injured dwarf was Ebba, who had a nasty cut in her side. Not deep enough to hit anything vital.

 

Jorun tended to her and I let Mike bandage my arm. Probably all it needed. “That was almost too easy.”

 

“He sent good. He did not send his best.”

 

“He must know it’s us.”

 

“Maybe he thought you would hesitate,” the valkyrie said, softly.

 

“No. I won’t.”

 

I might regret, but I would not hesitate.

 

Mike and Thruor were quickly looking for cover. Jorun walked over to me. “What’s with the tree?”

 

“It’s a symbol of something. It’s an ash.”

 

“Like the world tree.”

 

I nodded. “Exactly. The thing is, there was a dead ash in my vision. There’s a dead ash here.”

 

“Which symbolizes a threat to the world tree. Tells us nothing new.”

 

“But what if it’s the ash that I have to restore?”

 

It was a fire tree, a Muspelheim tree. I put my hand on the bark. “Symbolic, right?”

 

“It could not be that easy,” the dwarf said, peering up at me.

 

“No, obviously not. But it’s part of it.”

 

“If you do it, you will have made a choice.”

 

“I know, and if I avoid that choice I might get a second chance at Surtur if he kicks my butt.”

 

She shook her head. “Maybe not any more.”

 

I’d had the same thought myself. “Meaning it’s too late. Meaning I can’t cheat. This has to be real.”

 

“Lokisdottir,” she said, simply.

 

“Always at the crux of things, this family.” I smiled. “I understand some things now that I didn’t before.”

 

“You remember.”

 

I nodded. “And I think I was taught stuff Odin doesn’t approve of. Which might or might not be wrong.”

 

“Odin approves of this.”

 

I grinned. “You worked it out too.”

 

“Of course I did. Or did you not notice that fire giant had a false eye.”

 

I laughed. “No, but trust a dwarf to pick up on that detail.”

 

“We offered him one. He refused to take it. Said it would…reduce the sacrifice.”
And what sacrifice did I need to make?
The king is the sacrifice. But it could not be that. “I know what I have to do. I think. But not yet.”

 

“Because of Surtur.”
“He needs to be here.”

 

But I was still doubting now that he would come.

 

She wove a pattern of light. From the strain on her face I knew she wasn’t the best at this. Better than me, but we could very much have used a witch right now.

 

I was pretty sure it wasn’t convincing at all, but then it didn’t need to be. It needed to be a flicker.
And the stars responded. For a moment I thought we had screwed up and were going to end up with one of us dead.

 

Then I realized that they were laughing at us. Laughing. Appreciating.

 

There was probably a baby trickster up there. “This might actually work.”

 

She lowered her hands. “Let’s give him time to come up here. Let him think we got it wrong and are going to try again.”

 

“If he does.”

 

“He will. He won’t let anyone else do this. Because it will cost him his kingship as surely as anything else.”

 

“I thought he could not stop being king while he lives.”

 

Thruor gave me an almost nasty smile. “If somebody else saves Muspelheim, breaks the cycle, and ends the war, how long do you think he’ll live?”

 

“Two minutes,” I predicted. She was right. His own bodyguard would take him out. He had probably lied to them. He had probably told them winning the war was the only way, the only option they had.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Which did leave a possibility I hadn’t thought of until then – that he would not come himself, but would send somebody else.

 

Then we’d have to kill them. And I’d probably feel bad about it.

 

Regret.
The rift was pulsing, as if fighting against something. When it opened all the way? It was, in a very real sense, my brother.

 

It was the jaws of Fenris, opening to swallow the sun, and when that happened? When that happened it was over.

 

I sat down. I stared up at the sky, wishing there was more I could do than wait to see who came.

 

Please let him come. He had to come. But he would not come alone. “We still should set up an ambush. He may know who we are…”

 

“He still won’t know where, and he won’t come alone,” Thruor predicted. “A small force, mind. The mountain idea was a good one.”

 

I thought about the trail and nodded. “He can’t bring half an army up that trail.”

 

But I had come here for another reason. I looked at the sky again.

 

At the stars.

 

The cycle. How many had already died?

 

What happened to the dead if even the afterlife did not survive? Back to those stars, perhaps.

 

There was something beyond even them, something that was so alien I did not recognize it, but for a moment, I sensed it.

 

Behind the rift, behind the stars, behind my own eyes.

 

Maybe it was the multiverse’s consciousness of itself.

 

And I abruptly thought of something else. I stood up and walked to the tree.

 

It was dead. But I was sure it was, as I had expected, an ash.

 

The sky cracked. It did so in the moment we did that. Perhaps something was angry with our intent to trick.

 

There were still stars, but there was darkness beyond them. I felt for a moment as if we were too late.

 

Had this been the warning? No, I rather thought that if it had been “You will make things far worse” he would have said that.

 

No, it was just the next step, and energy was starting to leap into the void. “Hell,” I said.

 

“Don’t insult your sister.”

 

I laughed weakly. “It’s too late, isn’t it.”

 

“No.” Ebba.

 

“You’re an optimistic dwarf,” I told her. But no, it wasn’t too late. It wouldn’t be too late until the temperature started to plummet.

 

Would it happen here first? Or would Muspelheim last longer with the heat it had?

 

“While the sun lives, it is not too late.”

 

I couldn’t see the sun. How long had it been night? “That may mean we only have until dawn,” I pointed out.

 

But all we could do was try to carry on with the plan. I was shaking, though. Shaking with real fear. It felt as if everything I did was only making things worse.

 

It felt as if I was caught up in the prophecy despite everything I tried to the contrary.

 

It felt as if I was ending the world.

 

But there was fire. I felt it flow within me, and I wondered if the rift was pulling it towards me.

 

There was fire and…Surtur could slow this down, I knew, if he was paying attention. And perhaps he was, because the rift shrank a little.

 

Fire within me, rising to the occasion. Threatening to join with the fire around me.

 

Maybe I should let it. Maybe I should accept that there was no escape, after all, for me. Last time it had been my brothers.

 

And my father imprisoned for an age of the world.

 

For breaking the cycle.

 

I suddenly knew that. That what he had done had been what had broken the cycle, not because Baldur had been causing it, but because there had to be a sacrifice.

 

There had to be.

 

Not my task to kill Surtur.

 

My brothers had died because Odin had lost his temper and because nobody had told him what was going on.

 

Not my task to kill Surtur.

 

Somebody else’s. I had thought it was the fire giant, Helgr. Not her. Then…who?

 

I looked at Thruor. “Let’s do this.”

 

I opened my eyes again. “Well, I know this is…it’s the only good choice.”

 

“Which you’ll regret,” says Thruor.

 

“Exactly.” Because it implied I would be able to regret it. I still felt that sense of freedom, though. “So…here’s the thing. Surtur doesn’t know what this would look like either. He knows it’s possible.”

 

“And he’s not doing it because…”

 

“Because he still thinks he can win the war and that winning will somehow keep Muspelheim intact. Perhaps as the only realm. I think that’s it anyway.”

 

She grinned. “That does seem to fit what he’s been saying and doing. And he’s holding something like this in reserve.”

 

“But the thing is that if we do this we interrupt the cycle.” And destroying the forges? Would that interrupt the cycle?

 

Or did we need to do it anyway?

 

Or… I forced my thoughts. “He doesn’t want that to happen.”

 

“But we need a good long prep time. I don’t think he can teleport,” Thruor mused.

 

“So, we make a light show. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I can help with that.”

 

“Shame your dad isn’t here.” Thor could make a better light show than any of us.

 

She grinned. “I know a bit of illusion magic, so do you.”
Ebba and Jorun. I looked at them.

 

“Nothing we can cast directly,” Ebba said. “Dwarves don’t do that kind of magic. But we can make sure you don’t get interrupted by any more…locals.”

 

From the way she emphasized it, I was pretty sure she knew that fire giant hadn’t been a local. But there might well be somebody up here, hiding from the war. And there was still wildlife.

 

“At least keep the curious wildlife away, although it doesn’t seem like anything’s wandering up to us.” They probably got hunted. I let out a breath. “So…”

 

“So, I think I have a good illusion idea,” Thruor said. “You’re right. He won’t know what to look for.”

 

“I can lend you some energy.” We had practiced that, albeit only once. “I wish Clara was here.”

 

“If she was here we’d still have demonic hordes.”

 

“Still, she could do this way better than either of us. No offense.”

 

She laughed. “None taken. Let’s do it.”

 

I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but I nodded and took her hands.

 

“Okay. I have no clue how we do this,” I admitted. “We have to make it look good, but not actually do anything.”

 

Thruor nodded. “Well, we can’t do it. Only somebody bound to Muspelheim can actually do it.”
And the fyrhund was not here. Good. He might qualify. “Which none of us are. But does Surtur know that?”

 

“Yes, but he does not know you didn’t bring some random fire giant here.”

 

I grinned. “Good point. Although I wouldn’t.”

 

“Even if they wanted to do it?”

 

I knew what would happen, in my heart. “Maybe.”

 

If Surtur did it…well, it would be his free choice. Asking anyone, even saying it was something we needed or wanted?
That would make me responsible. But it should be him anyway. The king is the sacrifice.

 

“So…it’s a shame my dad isn’t here.” The only illusions I ever did were glamors to cover myself. Faking a spectacular ritual? I hadn’t tried that.

 

I glanced at the dwarves. “Got any ideas?” I’d come all this way thinking I would somehow know what to do when I got here.

 

The stars seemed much closer. No. I didn’t want to actually call one. I wanted to get rid of Surtur and then get the dwarves to destroy the forges.

 

Then…what?

 

I would regret this. Maybe…but if I ended up permanently dead would I have regrets?

 

Or would I be yelled at by my sister. She would not, I thought, be happy with me.

 

But would…

 

I shook my head. “Give me a few here.” I thought I was right, but I needed to calm my thoughts in order to know what to do.

 

I stepped away, towards the tree, and I was back in that vision again.

 

Lugh.

 

A sun god. Who had done that to me because he genuinely believed I was going to end the world. And maybe I had. Maybe none of this would have happened if I had not existed to be a target for Surtur’s desires.

 

Maybe sometimes there really was nothing you could do to change fate.

 

I would regret doing this. But I sensed for a moment that I was at a cusp of times and choices. I could say I couldn’t do it, go back down the mountain. Fight for the dwarves.

 

Probably die. And with the barriers down, I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t be permanent anyway.

 

I could run.

 

I could go back to Earth, I could cast my lot with those protecting it.

 

And I realized that every choice I would make, that wasn’t hiding in a quiet corner, led to my death.

 

I realized there was no escape. The knowledge was not depressing. Quite the opposite.

 

Because there was no escape I was free to do whatever I needed, and Loki had Kanesha in a safe quiet corner.

 

By, of course, trickery.

 

He was delaying us. Stalling. I thought of walking out of the cabin. We could take him.
I did not want to fight him. I rather thought this was his place, that he was tied to it. Or something else was going on.

 

I wasn’t sure. “Please let us go.”

 

He hummed. “Maybe tea first.”

 

“We don’t have much time. Can’t you feel it?”

 

“Maybe some of us don’t have to fear even Ragnarok.”

 

My lips quirked. “You think that you can just hide in your quiet corner. I don’t think it works that way.”

 

If it did, I would have Kanesha tucked away in just such a place…no, I wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let me. But the temptation would be there.

 

Maybe Mike. Maybe…no. He was what he was because he wanted to fight and protect others.

 

I realized nobody I truly cared about would let themselves be protected, and I realized that was my own fault. I couldn’t, wouldn’t have friends who would hide.

 

“Maybe not. But if you do what you have in mind, then my mountain won’t be a quiet corner any more.”

 

I saw his point. “I did not choose this.”

 

“Yes you did. You chose it, at some point. You set foot on this path and it led you here.”

 

“Surtur forced me to it.”

 

“And if you were a different woman you would wear a crown now.”

 

I did not ask him how he knew. I did not need to. I smiled. “I rather thought you were not a fire giant game warden.”

 

“Perhaps not.” He smiled back. “But are you bent on this?”

 

“Got a better idea?”

 

“You may regret it.”

 

“I think I will regret any choice I make.” That was likely true. Any choice I made at this point could lead to death and destruction. Or to other things.

 

“Perhaps.” He smiled. “Go. Get on your way.”

 

Mike was looking at me as we stepped outside. “That wasn’t a fire giant, was it.”

 

“Nope. That was a test.”

 

“What do you think you’ll regret?” he asked.

 

“Any choice I make. It’s fine. I just have to find the regrets I can live with.” Or not live with as the case might be.

 

The mountain rose before us. We still had quite a bit of climbing to do.

 

If there was a later. I realized how exposed we were a moment later. And then a voice. “Stop.”

 

“Somebody not fighting the war?” I couldn’t resist but say, although Thruor and Ebba were ahead of me.

 

“Somebody trying to protect what we have left. Who are you?”

 

“We have a plan.”

 

“Take your plan to the lowlands.” A bearded, wild looking fire giant…the entire mountain man thing was even more both intimidating and ridiculous at giant size.

 

“I can’t.” I couldn’t push past the others on the trail.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“The person who plans on stopping Ragnarok, if you will let me. Or help. Would you rather have these mountains denuded or restored?”

 

Hesitation. “Oh, come to my cabin. We will talk.”

 

We had him outnumbered. Heck, me and Thruor could have taken him. Possibly solo. But Thruor nodded anyway.

 

Maybe she figured he would be useful. I wasn’t as sure, he seemed like a crazy game warden.

 

Maybe that was exactly what he was. A game warden. The Muspelheim equivalent of a park ranger.

 

His cabin was of rough stone, with wood used only for the door and window frames. He had glass windows but no shutters. “So…” he said as he opened the door. “Why up here?”

 

“Because I had a vision telling me it was the best place.”

 

He laughed. “Little…” A head tilt. “Little goddess. Why not go running back to Asgard?”

 

“Because if this isn’t stopped there might not be an Asgard to run back to.”

 

He stopped. “A valkyrie, an einherior, a baby goddess and two dwarves. Perhaps that is strange enough company to do something.”

 

Or throw a ring into a mountain, I couldn’t help but think, although we had no hobbits with us.

 

Jorun laughed.

 

I didn’t. Something about this guy was triggering thoughts in my head, thoughts I was not sure I liked.

 

Something about him. “We intend to do something. Or fail. And if we fail, then there will be no need to protect this mountain.”

 

I thought that he shuddered, under the furs he wore. It was hard to tell. Maybe this was cold for a fire giant. For me, with my mixed heritage, it was nothing at all.

 

“Perhaps you are right.” He fixed his eyes on me. “And if you succeed.”

 

“I’ll get out of your hair.”

 

He laughed ringingly at the human saying. “Perhaps.”

 

And I knew he had reason to doubt me on that particular front. Who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t assume I wanted power?

 

Perhaps not even myself.

 

The youths directed us to a mountain. It would be a good half day on foot – riding was not going to be helpful once we hit the base. A mule or mountain goat might have been able to do it. Our horses would be struggling and probably happier to be left behind. They were intelligent and could be trusted to look after themselves.

 

The mountains rose up quite sharply, low foothills and then steep slopes, and there was a game trail. Fortunately it was a fire giant scale game trail, and we had no difficulty with it. The horses might even have managed if it had not been for the vertical cliff that blocked it, one we had to scramble up with the help of a somewhat rusty chain.

 

No doubt the chain was there for hunters who might come this way. And there was game, although we disturbed it. I saw a deer run down into the trees, and birds alarmed as we passed.

 

There was no war here yet.

 

But the sky above was still not the sky of Muspelheim. Open to the void.
Not stars.

 

Unborn gods. Perhaps some of them would fall to alien worlds to become what they were going to become.

 

Did love between gods call them? Probably. It was a point of cosmology I would ask about if this did not end with my permanent death.

 

Or with the destruction of everything. Except that it would not reach them.
Were they also real stars?

 

Did worlds die to birth gods? I shook my head, and kept climbing. The height increased rapidly and no doubt the air was a little thinner, although not enough yet to affect my stamina.

 

Not enough yet, but it might be before we reached the peak by the dead tree, and I knew this place.

 

I had never been here before, but I knew this place.

 

It was where things would move to the next stage. “I’m starting to get a feeling this is actually going to work.” I helped Jorun up. The dwarves did not do well with climbing, and I remembered the bear den.

 

“Why?” she asked.

 

“I know this place. I know this mountain.”

 

“Have you been here before?”

 

“No.”
Thruor was assisting Ebba. Mike was bringing up the rear, and he practically was a mountain goat. Had he done mountain climbing as a kid or something? He’d never mentioned anything like that to me.

 

Then again, I had never asked. But I would have thought if he was an enthusiast he would have tried to drag us to an indoor wall at the least.

 

Maybe he had lost it somewhere along the line. But he climbed easily. “You’re good at this,” I called to him.

 

“Funny how rusty skills come back.”

 

Maybe it had taken dying to get it back. “You never took us climbing.”

 

He fell silent and did not answer. I realized it might not have been the best question to ask.

 

Another one, perhaps, for later.