‘Utgard-Loki?’ I said in surprise.

‘He’s the King of World Beyond. What? You thought you were the only Trickster in the Worlds?’

Then he stood up and prepared to move on. His previous good temper had gone, and this morning he seemed unaccountably surly.

‘I’m going north, to the mountains,’ he said. ‘If I were you, I’d head back home. I don’t see you cutting much of a figure among the folk of Utgard. But if you do want to visit – well. You’ll find the city due east from here, not more than a day’s walk.’ And, picking up his pack (still with all our belongings inside), he started off through the woods again, scowling, without even saying goodbye.

‘Wow. I miss him already,’ I said. ‘Can’t wait to meet his family.’ I turned in the direction from which we had come. ‘This way, I think. We might reach the sea by morning.’

‘We’re turning back?’ said Thialfi to Thor. ‘After he belittled you?’

Roskva said nothing, but I could tell that she was with her brother.

I tried to explain that bravery wasn’t the same as foolishness. A city of giants like Skrymir, impervious to Mjølnir’s blows and ruled by a king who thought the gods were just cute little wannabes – this just happened to be high on my list of things to be avoided.

But Thor’s eyes were cold as knives. ‘We’re going to that city,’ he said. ‘I want to meet that Trickster King. And you’re coming with me.’

‘I am?’

‘You are.’

And so that’s why we headed east, to Utgard, and our downfall.

Lesson 9 World Beyond

LESSON 9

World Beyond

The bigger they are, the harder they fall?

Tell that to the mountains.

Lokabrenna

WE LEFT THE FOREST BY MIDDAY, under that strangely luminous sky, and found ourselves approaching a bare ridge, in which three curious valleys – all square, one deeper than the rest – appeared like missing teeth. Beyond that lay a plain, and the stronghold that Skrymir had promised us: Utgard; the largest fortress we’d ever seen, with walls that rivalled Asgard’s in height. We approached and knocked at the huge iron gates, but there was no answer.

‘Somehow I was expecting a warmer welcome than this,’ said Thor.

‘What? The fatted calf?’ I said. ‘Come to think of it, roast beef would be nice . . .’

Thialfi and Roskva looked at me with eyes like saucers.

‘You think we can get in?’ said the boy.

We looked through the bars at the giant halls; the dizzying spires of Utgard. Thor hammered on the gates with his fists; yelled for someone to open them; and finally rattled them as hard as he could – without success. No one heard, and the gates stood as unresponsive as before.