And there she was, in the prophecy Mimir made to Odin. I hadn’t paid much attention before, concentrating as I had on future, rather than past events. But there she was, in one stanza; Wildfire’s mistress, out for revenge – but against whom? Odin? The gods? Or was this revenge for a future crime – a crime that would only come about because of her intervention?

It made my head hurt just to think about it. But could it be that all of this had been an attempt by Gullveig to lure me out of Chaos, to use my betrayal to bring down the gods, then to take my place by Lord Surt in the Aspect of Burning Ambition, surpassing even Wildfire in sheer destructiveness and guile?

Oh, gods. Could it be?

Er . . .

Yes, it made perfect sense. Really, it was beautiful. And yet I could not bring myself to go back to the General. Call it pride – that was always my downfall – but if it meant playing the Oracle’s game, allowing Heidi to use me, even dying in battle, or worse – then so be it. I was ready. All those things were preferable to admitting that Odin might have been right.

And so I got bleakly, blackly drunk, and awoke with a shocking hangover to find that Heidi had finally given the word to move the troops out of Ironwood, onto the plain of Ida.

Lesson 4 Ida

LESSON 4

Ida

When the going gets tough, choose your cliché.

Lokabrenna

WE WAITED THERE for nine days, making our camp on the open plain. It was cold; the sun’s absence had brought on a fierce, harsh winter. Frost scoured the land; black winds blew; clouds of ash and smoke and dust mingled with the driving snow. Above us, Asgard’s citadel looked like a cradle of brilliance, all shrouded in Northlights and shining with runes, with Bif-rost, the Rainbow Bridge, arching from the parapet.

It made me feel almost sorry that we had to bring it down. It was the last, most beautiful thing left in that dying, tenebrous world. But it was too late for regrets. We were engaged; the die was cast; the Gunnthrà was breached; choose your cliché.