The Unworthy Dead
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This chapter was agony to write, this time not because it deals with painful subjects but because it just wasn't particularly interesting for me, but it was important, so I pushed through it. It took me longer than normal because I've been dealing with a lot of IRL stress.

The world faded into a blur as Astveig and I fled back along the path we had so recently traveled.  I can’t even be sure how long we ran. Losing Cat had drained all the life out of the world, and that’s saying something for this place.  When we finally reached safety, everything finally caught up with me, and I collapsed to my knees and wept.

 

Astveig barked a dry laugh.  “Well, you’ve come a long way from threatening to burn down my Library with your emotions.”

 

I fixed Astveig with an angry look, which must have looked somewhat absurd on my tear-swollen eyes.  “How can you laugh at a time like this? Cat is probably dead!”

 

Astveig let out a long sigh.  “I know that. Do you think I’m happy about that?”

 

I said nothing.

 

“Look,” Astveig continued, “Cat is the best student I’ve ever had.  Losing her is a tragedy on par with losing Arey. But you saw the look in her eyes.  She didn’t let go by accident. She knew that if she had held on any longer, that wraith would have consumed her, and she knew that we needed to run.  She did what she did as much to save us as to save herself.”

 

I couldn’t speak.  I just sobbed, sitting on my knees in the soft, ashen earth.

 

Astveig placed a hand on my shoulder.  “Come on. We should probably find a safe place to camp and rest.”

 

****

 

We slept under the stars that night.  At least, we would have, if “stars” and “night” were a thing that existed in Hel’s realm.  The sun never moved, and the sky remained a constant, eerie twilight. It was not especially chilly, and the food we had brought was mostly dried, so we didn’t have any need to make a fire.

 

We had camped in the shade of a rock overhang that provided us with shade and some minor protection from prying eyes.

 

“I will take first watch.  In case another wraith comes along, I mean,” said Astveig.

 

“That’s okay,” I said.  “I can take the watch if you prefer.”

 

Astveig shook her head.  “No. You need to rest. You’ve been through a lot today.”

 

“I haven’t been through any more than you have.”

 

“You’ve never lost anyone before, have you?  I mean, to death.”

 

The question took me by surprise, but Astveig wasn’t looking for a response.  “I will take the first watch,” she reiterated. “You get some rest.”

 

I didn’t feel tired, but something told me Astveig was in no mood to argue the point.  I crawled into my sleeping bag and, before I even knew it, I was asleep.

 

****

 

I awoke to find Astveig’s hand over my mouth, shushing me.

 

“Shh.  Someone’s coming.”

 

I sat up and listened.  Sure enough I could hear footsteps and voices.  I could distinctly make out at least two voices, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.  I stood up and quietly walked toward the rocky wall that concealed us and carefully peeked around the corner.

 

Walking across the barren plains, I could see two men.  One had a full, thick, brown beard and wore a light tunic.  The other had short-cropped blonde hair and a mustache and was carrying a sword of some kind.  Both were apparently human.

 

“What should we do?” I whispered to Astveig.

 

Astveig shrugged.  “They look like locals to me.  There’s no indication that they would be enemies, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be friendly.”

 

Just then, I noticed mustache man turn his head in our direction and raise his sword.

 

“Shit,” I said, realizing there was no longer any point to whispering.

 

“Shit,” echoed Astveig.

 

Beardo placed a hand gently on Mustache Man’s shoulder, steadying him.  “Identify yourselves,” he called to us.

 

I looked to Astveig, only to realize she was as unsure of how to respond as I was, so I rolled the higher initiative.  “Uh, we come in peace?”

 

“I still didn’t catch a name,” said Mustache Man with a leering eye.

 

“Um…”

 

I looked to Astveig to see if she had any suggestions.  Thankfully, she seemed to get over being tongue tied at that moment.  “As to names, I am Astveig Kolfinnursdottir and this is Crystal Wilcox.  Now, if you’re going to point a sword at us, I’d prefer that you at least gave us your names before anything else.”

 

Beardo placed a hand on his companion’s sword arm to indicate he should lower the sword.  “I apologize for the hostile greeting. You can never be too cautious when traveling Hel’s wastelands.  I am Oddbjorn, and this,” he pointed to his mustachioed companion, “is Ragnarr. We’re traders.”

 

“Wait, traders?” I said, my curiosity piqued.  “What do you trade?”

 

With a flourish, Ragnarr returned his sword to a resting position on his shoulder.  “Oh, whatever is at hand. Hel is not exactly a thriving economy, as you can tell, but there are small pleasures to be found.  We came out here looking to capture some skull lizards to bring back to the capital. They’re quite the delicacy there.”

 

“If you don’t mind my asking,” said Oddbjorn, “what brings a couple of jötnar to our glorious ‘Realm of the Unworthy Dead?’  You don’t appear to be dead.”

 

“Oh, we’re looking to-” I began, but Astveig cut me off.

 

“We’re here on a diplomatic mission.  We can’t disclose exact details.” I couldn’t help feeling that last part was more directed at me than to the two men.

 

“Fair enough,” Oddbjorn acquiesced.  “Do you know the way to the capital?”

 

“We had just sort of been attempting to make our way cross country toward what we think might be the capital,” Astveig admitted sheepishly.

 

“Well, you’re in luck, then,” Oddbjorn exclaimed cheerily.  “We happen to be on our way there now. We can lead you, if you’d like.”

 

Astveig and I shared a cautious glance.  On the one hand, these two seemed relatively harmless, and we weren’t exactly weaklings.  On the other hand, we had little reason to trust them beyond their being apparently friendly.  In the end, I think Astveig ultimately realized we were lost, and the danger of following these two strangers was minimal.

 

“That would be very helpful, thank you,” Astveig said graciously.

 

****

 

As it turned out, Oddbjorn and Ragnarr came through on their promise.  They led us skillfully through the unforgiving terrain, along paths Astveig and I could never have found on our own.  Before we knew it, we had found ourselves on the outskirts of an enormous city.

 

The city itself was as dark and somber as the country surrounding it, but nonetheless, it was as bustling as Asgard had been.  There were stalls selling all sorts of goods, most of which seemed to be grim objects that appeared dead. It reminded me of the fake shrunken heads you’d see on the Jungle Boat Cruise at Disneyland.

 

“Just head down this avenue,” Ragnarr said, pointing with his sword.  “It will lead you directly to the gates of the palace.”

 

“I should warn you,” added Oddbjorn, “Lady Hel is not the most welcoming host.  She can be very closed off, and may not even let you in.” Oddbjorn thought for a moment before adding, “If she does let you in, put in a good word for us, eh?  Business in this realm is hard enough. Can’t pass up an opportunity to get in good with the boss lady.”

 

“Will do,” I said, “and thank you, again.  We probably could have gotten here on our own, but it would have taken much longer without you.”

 

Astveig and I departed down the avenue Ragnarr had pointed us toward, and the palace loomed larger and larger over us.  I’d never seen anything like it. It seemed to be grown out of the land itself, as though it were carved from an even larger mountain.  Numerous spires of the same blue-black rock that covered the land spun into the sky, dotted with twinkling stars that, I realized, must have been windows revealing the light from the inside.

 

The gates to the palace grounds were flanked by a pair of enormous, armored guards, their helmets sprouting iron ram horns.  Their heads didn’t seem to be heads at all, though; their helmets seemed to be simply filled with darkness where the head should be.

 

“You, there, jötnar!” shouted one of the guards.  Apparently they could still speak even though they had no visible mouths.  “We are expecting two jötun women. Are you perhaps here to see Lady Hel?”

 

“Um, yes?” said Astveig, clearly as bewildered as I was.

 

The tall, iron gates to the palace opened seemingly of their own accord.  “Then enter,” said the guard. “Lady Hel is expecting you.”

 

Astveig and I shared a confused glance, but neither of us was going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  The guard led us through the gates, across the courtyard and into the palace. When we began this journey, I honestly didn’t know I expected.  All that I know is that it certainly wasn’t to arrive in the palace of Hel to find Cat sitting on a throne, twirling a screwdriver in her hand.

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