In fact, that wasn’t far from the truth. We’d placed the Ice Folk and Rock Folk strategically on the northern and eastern sides of Ida’s plain, mostly as a diversion while the real business continued in the realm of Dream and to the south in Ironwood, shielded from sight by Heidi’s runes.

Meanwhile, the Folk were still gathering, now in greater numbers. Some had come from the Outlands on ships; some had ridden down from the north and from across the Ridings. They were disorganized, but they were many, clustering like ants around the edges of Ironwood; building their camps; lighting their fires; looking anxiously at the sky.

We made no move against them as yet. We had bigger fish to fry. Gullveig’s plan was intricate; everything meticulously arranged to coincide at just the right time. Over the months, her minions had been placed in discreetly commanding positions all over the Middle Worlds, ready to act on her orders, and as soon as she gave the word, her plans had been set into motion; beginning with my liberation, Angie’s recruitment, and the freeing of my son, the Fenris Wolf, who celebrated his coming-of-age by seeking out his erstwhile friends, the demon wolves Skól and Haiti, and conspiring with them to bring down the Sun and Moon chariots to plunge the Worlds into darkness . . .

That was the first blow. That darkness. Friend of outlaws everywhere; builder of fears and nightmares. In the uproar that ensued, the World Serpent thrashed up out of the sea, demon wolves overran the plains, and the hordes of Netherworld, at Heidi’s command, began to surge up from Chaos’s realm to overrun the Middle Worlds.

Some attacked the Folk through Dream, sending madness and violence. The rest came naturally, as it always does in times of crisis. Communities broke up; families turned against each other; opportunists took the chance to enrich themselves at the expense of their neighbours. People tend to blame Chaos whenever anything goes wrong, but in fact most of the time Chaos doesn’t need to intervene. The Folk don’t need any help when it comes to massacring each other. You name it, they did it – murder; rape; the sacrifice of infants – all the time blaming the sunless sky, when the darkness was already there, in their hearts.

And of course, they blamed the gods. That was the part I enjoyed the most; that the Folk, who had worshipped Odin’s crew in such a fawning, uncritical way should, at the first sign of Last Times, turn against him in mindless rage, razing his temples, toppling his standing stones, cutting down his sacred trees, cursing his name and all his works and turning instead to whatever crazed comfort was offered them.