Chapter 12

 

“Acacia? I don’t feel so good,” Tanuki murmured as he rode nestled in the curvature of the sphinx’s wing.

Acacia walked along the white sands of a vast shoreline, the waves of a teal sea lapping at her feet. The hall where Tyr resided was not much farther now, but an uncomfortable sensation had settled over her. “It’s most likely because this place is so unlike where we are from,” she said. “I can tell the air here is different. It may take time to become used to it.”

Tanuki wrinkled his nose. “Maybe. But I feel an ache all over. Not an ‘I’ve been digging all day’ ache, but like thorny vines are growing in my bones. Do you feel that way?”

“Not so much,” Acacia said, but she did feel a clawing in her lungs and gut. She thought it was best to not tell Tanuki, however, so as not to worry him. “Do you want me to take you back to the human world?”

The badger curled up tighter in Acacia’s wing. “We won’t take too long to talk to this Tyr, right? Maybe the aching will go away. Or maybe I’m weak with hunger. Will there be food where we’re going?”

The sphinx inhaled and exhaled deeply, hoping it would help dispel the gnawing inside of her. It wasn’t so bad, not compared to all the centuries that Madam Nyx’s Shade had incinerated her throughout as it drained her cunning away. “I’m sure Tyr may have something to eat. If not, I’ll go catch you a fish. There must be fish in this sea.”

Tanuki nodded, but his body was shivering. “Tyr doesn’t eat badgers, does he?”

“I doubt it. A badger wouldn’t be much but a morsel to him. He probably likes bigger game.”

“He doesn’t eat sphinxes, does he?”

Acacia stifled a laugh. “I’d like to see him try it,” she replied.

As she spoke, she noticed that her breath clouded in front of her face as it would in the coldest of winter. But her breath produced a golden haze, smelling of wildflowers. She stopped walking, puzzling over the cloud as it gradually dissipated.

Tanuki lifted his head. “What? Why are we stopping?”

The sphinx knew what she had done. It was her special sleep-inducing breath, but never before had she exhaled it without intent. Now it poured from her mouth and nostrils in tumbling puffs, even when she tried to make it stop. As she exhaled again, she swore she heard the faintest of murmurs, as if her own breath were attempting to speak. The noise was stifled, however, and it resonated louder as she inhaled, the air circulating in her head.

She sat down on the sand, unfolding her wing to set Tanuki on the ground. “I think something is trying to speak to me, through me. I’ll need absolute silence for a few minutes.”

She said this straight at Tanuki, and another cloud of her special breath poofed in his face. He let out a long, tongue-wagging yawn. “Absolute silence…I can do that…good night...” He flopped backwards onto the sand, legs up in the air as he began to snore.

Acacia closed her eyes, slowing her breathing to the calm pace that echoed the lapping waves on the beach. Her heart’s beating receded to the subtle patter of a ticking clock. But she kept one paw dug firmly in consciousness, not releasing herself to nirvana entirely, in the event she should need to awaken immediately. There was risk of her falling asleep if she became too comfortable, and after what Tanuki had told her about Nico’s slithering about in others’ dreams, she knew better than to leave herself vulnerable either awake or asleep.

She let out a long, drawn-out breath, and this time the smell was different. Her sleep breath normally smelled of anything soothing, pleasant, and inviting. This smell was of raw, sweaty panic.

Who is calling for me? Acacia braved to ask—not with her true voice, but her mind.

Sphinx! Thank the gods, I have reached you!

Acacia recognized the voice immediately. Hypnos? Are you talking to me through my breath?

I apologize for having to take such invasive measures, but I had no choice. I do not have much time. Nyx keeps me trapped, unable to return to my realm. I cannot reach anyone through sleep, and I fear my realm is being usurped. You are the only one who I blessed with the breath of slumber, thus I can slip into your breath as I would a dream.

The urgency of Hypnos’ message put Acacia on edge, but she struggled to remain in her meditative state. Nyx has kidnapped you? Why? How?

That is not important. Nyx is seeking out all his kin to force them to reveal the hiding place of my three sisters, the Moirai. They possess something that Nyx wants badly. With it, he believes nothing will prevent him from pursuing Fenrir the Wolf, to steal his ability…

I don’t understand! Slow down. Nyx is after Fenrir? What is he after?

Nyx desires something buried within the vast tapestry of the Curtain… Hypnos’s voice was fading.

Spit it out! I’m losing your voice! Acacia’s thoughts screamed.

He is ripping the Curtain apart…he wants the threads…David…

Acacia’s breath chilled, filling her with freezing winter. It caught in her lungs, and she choked on it as the moon-pale face of Nyx flashed in her mind. The solid black eyes bore into her, and the pale lips twisted into a hateful grimace. He didn’t speak, but Acacia was smacked with the intensity of Nyx’s anger. Then it felt like a hand reached down her throat and wrenched all the air out of her.

She snapped her eyes open, gasping. She saw that her breath no longer clouded in front of her. She inhaled deeply, willing for her gift from Hypnos, and exhaled.

There was nothing. No haze, no smell. Her breath of slumber was gone.

Acacia sat still, speechless. Numbness prevailed throughout her being. It was not so much that she no longer had her special breath; it was that it had been stolen from her, by that deceitful, hateful Nyx. Her connection to Hypnos was broken, and who knew what Nyx would do to him for having spoken with Acacia, trying to reveal his secret plans. A wail escaped her, her mournful cry breaking the quiet.

Tanuki shuddered awake at the sound. “Acacia? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Acacia swallowed her sorrow, clenching her teeth. With one swoop of her paw, she grabbed Tanuki by the scruff of his neck, throwing him onto her back. She sprang to her feet and beat her wings to increase her speed, running along the shore with a newfound energy that made the badger cling to her fur like a tick.

Let Nyx do his worst. Even a god can be undone, and she would see to it that he would fall. She would have the strongest of Light on her side, and Light would drown the Night, no matter what price she had to pay.

 

Crossing back through the Curtain the way they had come, David stayed alert in case he, Baba and Slepnir strayed into yet another unwanted destination. Given that Slepnir was a war horse, who knew what other battles he might gallop into. The return journey was less arduous, however, as Slepnir traveled at a more cautious pace, even though his speed was faster than what David would have favored. The horse may have been more conscientious of his riders, who were now more somber and shaken than before.

David wished he was more knowledgeable about how, exactly, the Curtain worked. He had always relied on others who understood its folds, its pockets, and its movements, to traverse through it. To him, it appeared as thick mist, occasionally revealing a shimmer here, or a shadow there, but its nature was foreign to him. If Acacia was here, maybe she could sense if it was weakening, or if it appeared different from normal. Once they got back to Moffat, he would ask her if she had noticed anything unusual when she passed through the Curtain.

A horrible thought nibbled at his mind. If the Curtain was fraying, and thus magic was disappearing, what did that mean for her? For Tanuki? How much of what they were was magic, and how much were they flesh and bone as David was? Had Acacia lived for all these centuries because that was sphinx nature, or was it from magical means? Would Tanuki become a normal badger without the Curtain intact? Would either of them even continue to exist? The image of Acacia and Tanuki vanishing into thin air, never to return, struck him so hard that he had to clench his jaw tight to keep from crying out in anguish.

When the mist of the Curtain trailed away—David was relieved to have not felt anything brush against him, so he figured this part of the Curtain was strong—the riders found themselves under a night sky, speckled with stars of a myriad of colors, like an array of gemstones sewn into onyx velvet. The ground beneath them was of an ivory sheen, stretching for miles along the edge of a tranquil sea.

“Where are we?” David was unnerved by how quiet this place was. “Baba, didn’t you tell Slepnir to return us to Moffat?”

The witch did not respond right away. She seemed lost in thought.

“Baba, where did you tell Slepnir to take us?”

Baba looked over her shoulder at him. “You said you wanted us to go back. So I reiterate to horse, ‘go back.’ Just like you said.”

David shook his head. “You knew what I meant. I meant to go back to Moffat! Saying ‘go back’ could mean anything to Slepnir. In fact, he probably thought you meant…go back home.” He rubbed a hand on his forehead. “And home to Slepnir is that Asgard place that Acacia was talking about. This must be Asgard.”

“Then you must specify next time,” the witch sneered.

“You knew what I meant!” David reigned in his irritation. “Maybe this is where Acacia and Tanuki went to speak to Tyr. They could still be here, or if not, someone might be able to tell us if they’ve seen a sphinx and badger come through. If there is anyone,” he noted, as he could not see any homes or towns nearby. Snow-cloaked mountains grew from the horizon on all sides, and forests of the most ancient trees, their tops kissing the sky, filled in the space between the horizon and the shore where they walked. Even in the dim dusk, it was an impressive landscape of primal nature, but everything was too grand, out of proportion with the forests and mountains that David knew in his world. He felt practically puny in this land—even Slepnir was small for this place. Next to one of the trees growing besides the shore, Slepnir was in size like a raccoon beside an evergreen tree in the human world.

Baba Yaga tugged her hat down around her ears as a biting wind slinked around them. “If you think to look for them, I suggest we look quickly. I may not have my magic, but I can still sense the deep hostility of this land.”

David nodded and gave Slepnir two quick kicks in the side as he had seen Baba do before. The horse picked up his pace, galloping along the beach into the harsh wind. As David scanned the sea and its churning waves, he thought he spotted the backside of an animal cresting out of the waters and then slipping back beneath the sea froth. He gulped, hoping that any monsters that might be in this sea would stay far out and not come to shore. Who knew, in a land like this, how gigantic such beasts could be.

He turned to look forwards again and could see a large structure ahead. Slepnir was barreling so fast, he feared they would smack right into what lay ahead. “Woah, slow down! Cuidado!”

Baba yanked on Slepnir’s braid, and the horse stopped so abruptly that both the riders slammed forwards into the horse’s neck, almost being thrown off entirely. They had stopped right in front of the structure, which was an irregularly large wooden sign. There was a wooden dock that trailed out into the sea, simple in build but as wide enough for a stampede of ox to cross. There were no boats in the dock, as the dock appeared to have not been used in a long time. Its planks were wood-rotted and cracked, and the sign was wind-worn and the paint faded away. Words had been carved into it, and they were legible, although barely:

“Hymir’s Sea Tours: Finest Fishing and Boating Ventures This Side of the Elivigar. Ask for information in the Main Hall up the Hill.”

In smaller carving beneath that—a bit more sloppily carved, as if hastily included— stated: “Will not comply to requests to hunt the serpent Jormungandr!”

David read the sign aloud, repeating the name at the beginning. “Hymir…I know him. He’s the one who took me out to sea to find Geras.” He looked out to sea again. “Was it this same sea?”

“Not same,” Baba said. “Wolf drank Geras’s sea. Is probably valley or desert now.”

There was a twisting in David’s gut. As long as he had Fenrir’s fang, the wolf wouldn’t have his strength all the time, but if Fenrir rested long enough, he could summon another spurt of energy like he had to devour Geras’s house. If David and the others didn’t track down Fenrir quickly, how soon would it be until Fenrir regained his energy to be big enough to devour another house again? What if he could swallow all of Moffat, and everyone in it? All of Paris? Florence…

“Do you think Hymir was able to escape from Fenrir? Maybe he’s in the Main Hall up the hill,” David said, pointing to the spot on the sign that mentioned the hall’s location. “He was willing to help me before. He might know where Tyr lives.”

Baba sighed. “Why not? Is not like I have to go home any time soon.”

She clicked her tongue and gently tugged Slepnir’s braid to direct him towards a beaten path that ascended a gradual slope through the forest. The horse kept a steady trot, as the path wasn’t steep, but it was clear after about ten minutes that the “hill” must have been a hill by a giant’s standards. The path kept ascending, the trees thinning the higher they traveled. As the trees parted, a warm light could be seen far off at the crest of the hill. Soon the triangular face of a mead hall, built from reddish wood with a bronze-tiled roof and surrounded by cylinder beams on all sides, glowered down at them from atop its hilltop throne. The beams were carved with the images of serpents, boars, horses, and the stoic faces of warriors with cascading beards. Torches as tall as lighthouses stood at each side of the front entryway, their fires blazing bright enough to smother the starlight above.

The closer the riders and their horse came to the hall, the more the mead hall’s enormity overwhelmed them. It was by far the largest architectural marvel that David had ever seen, making the Eiffel Tower seem like a lamppost in comparison.

The three paused outside the front door, an intricately carved mural of thousands of men battling with swords, spears and shields. David and Baba Yaga glanced at each other.

“Should we knock?” David asked.

“What’s this ‘we’? You knock.”

David nodded. “Very well. But maybe I’ll knock while staying on the horse.”

Baba veered Slepnir closer to the door, although the horse did so with great hesitation. David lifted his fist, pausing at first, but then tapping lightly on the carved wood.

“Yes, that should do it. Good job,” Baba said.

David summoned up more courage and knocked again with more force. It did not generate much more sound, though, and he started to wonder if there was anything he could do to announce their presence. Then Slepnir pivoted around, his rear end towards the door, and he let go a mighty back kick with his hind legs. His hooves crashed against the door, blasting a burst of thunder that reverberated for several long, heart-stopping seconds.

Everyone froze. Shortly, they heard heavy footsteps approaching the door.

David held his breath. He hoped that was Hymir they heard approaching, and not another giant. He placed his hands on his sword and dagger, but hoped that if it was something monstrous behind that door, that Slepnir would have enough sense to run away. He wasn’t in the mood to fight another giant beast—

The thought that Fenrir might be hiding inside sent stabbing chills up his spine as the door slowly drew open.

It was not a wolf behind the door, nor was it Hymir. A woman, not quite of giant stature but at least eight or nine feet tall, stood in the doorway. She was matronly, not in her winter years but certainly her autumn, with long ropes of golden hair laced with silver. She wore a long white dress, adorned with necklaces and armbands of gold. She smiled kindly at them.

“Ah, you must be more of Tyr’s friends,” she said. “Please, come in. I have plenty of ale for all. We have a stable in the back for your horse…” She tilted her head, as she looked at Slepnir’s legs. “Eight legs…oh, my. I fear my stables are not suitable for the steed of the ruler of Asgard. But I will bring him my finest grains and mead. Come, you need no fear. You may come down and enter.”

David slipped down Slepnir’s braid, and then helped Baba down to the ground. He was startled over what their hostess had said—Slepnir was the horse of the ruler of Asgard? He had thought Slepnir’s owner had been a friend of Tyr of equal status, not a king. If his memory of the Poetic Edda was correct, the ruler of Asgard was an incredibly powerful warrior god named Odin. A god-king! David was filled with dread at the thought that Odin may not have given permission for a human to ride his royal horse, and what repercussions would come of it.

The hostess took Slepnir by the braid, gracefully leading him along the front of the mead hall and around the corner. She called over her shoulder, “Go straight, your friends are in the back of the hall. And do not mind my mother. She has a temper this evening, but she will keep to herself if you do not incite her.”

David and Baba walked through the mead hall, their anxiety mixed with awe at the décor of the interior. This must have once been a place of great festivity, judging from the weathered banners and dusty draperies that hung from the ceiling and down the walls. Remnants of past battles—battered shields of every shape and size, the carved figureheads of sea dragons from the prows of ships, swords as long as three men’s height, helmets big enough to house a family—littered the hall from front to back. Golden goblets, bronze serving bowls, and jeweled platters were collecting dust on banquet tables that were long enough to seat a hundred humans on each side. From the far back echoed the murmurs of voices, and it took David and Baba four minutes of maneuvering the maze of artifacts to finally see who was at the end of the room.

Seated in a black-lacquered throne with two dragons’ heads sculpted on the top, was a white-bearded man who was the most muscular specimen that David had ever seen in his life. Remembering Acacia’s story and how she had described Tyr, he knew this man had to be the axe-wielding light-bringer. Yet Tyr did not sit on the throne as a king or person of nobility would; he leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees, his head hanging down so that his beard swept the floor. The warrior looked troubled, as he rubbed the wrist of his handless arm with a neurotic motion.

In front of him stood Acacia and Tanuki. The badger was nose-first in a bowl of honey-colored liquid, lapping it up and smacking his lips. Acacia, however, gave her focus solely to Tyr, who averted his eyes from her. Even though Acacia’s back was to David, he could see her shoulders and spine arched up like a defensive cat, and her tail was swishing side to side in apprehensive jerks.

Whatever discussion was going on, it was not going well.

Acacia’s voice suddenly rose from shallow murmuring to sharp barking. “What don’t you understand? This is not about you and your dishonor! This is about millions of lives being ended, mankind and the Aesir of Asgard!”

Tyr held up his hands towards Acacia, glancing towards a cavernous door at the end of the hall off to his right. “Please, milady, not so loud—”

“I’m not scared of your grandmother! If she strikes such terror into your heart, maybe I should call her out here to knock some sense into you!”

Tanuki lifted his muzzle out of his drinking bowl. “I think both of you need to relax and have a little refreshment. You won’t solve anything having a hot head or cold feet, and a good drink always cures both. Besides, this mead stuff is really good. Maybe even better than sake!”

Acacia rolled her eyes, ignoring Tanuki. “Look, what else are you going to do, Tyr? Just sit here and wait for Fenrir to come for you, after he’s eaten everything else in existence? Or maybe wait until Nyx gets a hold of Fenrir? You realize that could spell a fate for all of us worse than being eaten alive?”

David stepped forwards. “What’s this about Nyx and Fenrir? Is that what Nyx has been after this whole time?”

Acacia snapped her head around to face David, and her cross expression switched to surprise. “David? How…why are you here? Has something happened? Is Gullin and his family all right?”

“I…It’s a long story. The short version is, Baba’s losing her magic, the Curtain may or may not be falling apart, and Slepnir brought us here because I’m poor at giving directions.”

Acacia stared at David, her head tilted in confusion. “The Curtain is…no, I can’t handle any absurd suspicions right now. We need to stick to the matter at hand. Hypnos was able to sneak me a message that Nyx wants control of Fenrir, and that Nyx is holding his siblings hostage to find three sisters who have something he needs to ensure his victory. We need to not only stop Fenrir, but keep Nyx from getting his hands on him. The best chance we have is to form as many alliances as we can, with anyone who may have the skills to fight against Fenrir and Nyx. But our brave Tyr here…” She narrowed her eyes on the warrior seated on the throne. “He would rather stay here in Grandmother’s house and have Mum pamper him like the big baby that he is!”

Tyr sat up straighter, releasing his wrist and gripping the arm of his throne. There was worry in his eyes, however. “Your intentions are noble and true, milady. But you do not understand Fenrir as I do. Do not underestimate my courage or strength. I have endured more wars than you have lived years. But Fenrir cannot be contained or destroyed. The ribbon that bound him to his prison was supposed to be unbreakable, and yet it failed. I failed. To fight him would mean certain doom, and not mere death. One would never truly die within his belly. It would be an eternity of pain and horror, being digested every single moment for as long as Fenrir continues to live and eat. There is no terror that the underworld possesses that would come close to matching the nightmare of being Fenrir’s victim.”

Tanuki’s jaw went slack, and he dropped his drinking bowl. He gulped. “I’m going to need something stronger,” he said.

Acacia growled. “That would explain why Nyx wants Fenrir. To have a creature with that sort of power at your command, Nyx would be the most powerful being in the universe, and could threaten any world to bow down to him. No one would dare contest him.”

“But why would Fenrir submit to Nyx?” David asked. “I thought Fenrir could eat gods as well as mortals. After all, Fenrir ate Geras and Elli, who were immortal. I don’t know if Hymir was a god, but he was a giant—”

Tyr shot up from his seat, staring at David with wide eyes. “What did you say?”

David stepped back, taken off guard by the warrior. “Fenrir destroyed the house of Geras, and swallowed the ocean that Hymir sailed me across. I was hoping that Hymir had escaped and maybe he would be here. Is Hymir your friend too? Has he been home?”

Tyr was frozen in place, and then he slowly sat down again. “Rumors fly fast in the nine realms. I had hoped they were not true. No, Hymir has not returned. He will not return. Now I know why.”

“I am sorry,” David replied. “He seemed a good man.”

Tyr stared down at the floor between his feet. “I cannot honestly say my father was good, but he was blood.”

“Your…father…” David closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I truly am sorry. I wouldn’t have been so casual about telling you if—”

Tyr raised his one hand to silence David. “You couldn’t have known. I’m sure my father would not have mentioned me in the short time you were with him. We were not on the best of terms. I always considered myself more of an Aesir than one of the giants, anyway.” He paused, running his fingers through his beard. “Mother told me he had been asked by a god to help a mortal who had been stricken by a curse, by ferrying him to the home of Old Age. I couldn’t imagine what mortal would be so important that the gods worried about his well-being. But clearly you are an unusual one, judging by the company you keep. No offense, milady,” he said, nodding to Acacia. He looked to Baba. “Or to you, dearest elder. Or you…” Tyr pursed his lips at Tanuki, who was now indulging in a stein of potent ale. “Little furry one.”

“Hey!” Tanuki slammed his stein down on the floor. “I’m of divine blood too. Grandson of the Lord of Lightning! I am also David-san’s spirit guide. I give him words of wisdom.” The badger emitted a loud, long belch, followed by a hiccup.

Tyr looked over at David. David shrugged with a smile.

“David was brave enough to face Fenrir himself,” Acacia added. “But this is not his responsibility. It is yours, Tyr. You were given the task of seeing that Fenrir remained locked away. It is your duty to put him back in his place. How can you throw your duty upon another’s shoulders, someone who deserves to live his life in peace, while you hide like a coward?”

Tyr rubbed his severed wrist again. He looked at David. “You faced Fenrir, and lived? Even weakened, Fenrir would be a deadly opponent. How is it possible you survived?”

“Honestly?” David scratched the back of his neck. “Acacia arrived just in time to save me from Fenrir before he ripped me apart.”

“Then, you did not fight him.”

“Well, I was able to stop Fenrir momentarily, with these.” David removed his sword and dagger from his belt and held them up. “Fenrir is weak because he doesn’t have his fang. This dagger was forged from that fang. This sword, too, has special powers, although I don’t know where they come from.”

Tyr stood up again and walked to David. David was barely half of Tyr’s height, and he knew that the warrior could crush him like a grape if he wanted to. Tyr leaned down to get a better look at the two weapons. He tapped the tip of the dagger with his finger, and pulled it back as if he had been zapped by electricity.

“Fenrir’s fang. It still carries the same wickedness as the day it did this to me.” He cupped his hand over the stump of his wrist again. “And yet it may be the only weapon with the strength to wound the great beast. Not iron, nor steel, nor any metal forged in the furnace of Völundr could pierce Fenrir’s hide or shatter his bones, but his own tooth could be his one weakness. You are a rare mortal to wield such a blade.”

“By any chance, do you know anything about this sword? It can put things in order,” David said.

Tyr looked at the sword. He ran his finger along the blade with a wistful look on his face. “I suppose this would have been forged around the same time as the dagger. It can instill order, but not repair what is broken, am I right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” David agreed. “Do you know where it came from?”

Tyr sighed. “What good is Order, if Chaos will destroy and Order cannot undo the damage? Why bother to uphold Order if it all crumbles into disarray in the end?” He stood up straight, walking back to the throne to sit. “What good would it be to return Fenrir to his cell, if he would continue to break free? What good am I, if I cannot keep him there?”

“Will you stop your nonsense?” Acacia hissed. “I thought you were a powerful warrior, balancing the light and the dark. But all I see is a whimpering wimp! You can either sit there, waiting to be devoured along with the rest of your world, or you can stand up and fight back, and give your world half a chance!”

There was rumbling from the other side of the cavernous door nearby.

Tyr’s face paled. “Please, if you cannot lower your voice, you must leave—”

“I am not going anywhere!” Acacia roared. “You may think you’re afraid of Fenrir, or even your grandmother, but you don’t know real fear until you’ve made me angry!”

“What is that noise?” boomed a scratchy chorus of female voices from the foreboding door on Tyr’s right.

Everyone in the room instantly hushed. Tyr gripped the arm of the throne so tightly, the wood cracked in his fist. His expression was akin to witnessing Death having sauntered into the room and pointed a skeletal finger in Tyr’s face.

From the dark archway emerged a gnarled, gangrened hand that was so enormous that it had trouble fitting through the doorway. It was too large and too fast to avoid, and in one swipe it snatched David, Acacia, and Tanuki in its withered clutches. It drew them into the adjoining room, as Tyr leapt forward to grasp onto the hand. He tried to pry it open in vain, all the while shouting, “Mor mor, please! They are my guests! They mean you no trouble!”

Baba Yaga shuffled after them, muttering to herself, “I swear, these young buffoons have no respect…”

David did not dare to move, praying this disgusting hand would not crush him and his friends. For what felt like hours, he, Acacia and Tanuki huddled inside the rank, pus-oozing fist. When it opened, holding them up on its palm, the sight that they beheld made David gag, Acacia cower, and Tanuki pass out on the spot. Their captor was a bloated, bulbous, tree-bark-skinned mass, covered in tumorous burls and dripping all over with what may have been sap, but it was more viscous and greenish. It was what was atop that body, however, that made David’s eyes pop out of his skull. He remembered what Hymir had told him back in the boat: “Bet your modir doesn’t have 900 heads to scream at you with.”