《Shadow of Yggdrasill》


 Chapter 1: Tree Town

    Trj¨¢byr is a simple name. It means, "Tree-town." Not very creative¡­ but then, few towns were built in the massive boughs of the World-Tree Yggdrasill. In fact, if you listed all the others that were, you''d only count a dozen or so¡ªand none of them would be named Treetown.


    Thor Street was perched on the first bough, wide enough for two oxcarts to pass each other¡ªwith a little bit of room for us pedestrians to push and shove our way along. I kept a tight hold of the sack, slinging it over a shoulder. Jostling through the crowd under the constant harangue of merchants, I elbowed someone walking behind me, too close to the bag.


    On each side of the street was a line of six-story buildings, the street shaded by the bulging upper floors. How kind of the rich b?ndr to build large, comfortable houses just to shade the karls who labour beneath them. The shade would indeed be very nice if it were a hot day¡­ too bad it was freezing.


    The street split at each fork in the bough. Loki Street was particularly hateful; it rose at a steep angle, boards nailed into it like shallow stairs to make the twisted, gnarled road less murderous to climb. I dodged aside in two quick steps as a runaway cart came rolling down the icy Loki Street, ramming into an ox. The animal bellowed as it was knocked off its feet. Rising up from the ground, the ox flew into a rage, attacking the cart until it was boards and splinters. Goods were tossed everywhere and trampled under-hoof. Seeing the owner of the cart racing down with curses and shaking fists. There was no time to stay and watch the fun, so I decided to leave before weapons were drawn.


    Slipping down a walkway at the edge of the bough, I moved beside one of the lines of houses. Looking down, I could not see the ground a mile below. Rather, I saw an inconvenient naglgata, a nail-street, while standing atop one of its houses. The sides of the boughs were put to good use, with little shacks fixed to the sides by large, fierce nails. Wattle and daub huts, mostly, made by mixing dead leaves in with muck and packing it onto a giant basket-weave of a house. Flimsy as they seemed, their roofs formed a sturdy footpath by town law. There were some fine log houses amongst them as well, made with the twigs of Yggdrasill and from parasitic trees that grew out of his branches.


    Looking up, I could see people relaxing in the cool air of their balconies, a few regarding me curiously. Solitude was a luxury in the wealthy Treetown. There was a fairly secluded place, a path suspended under the bough like a rope-bridge, in the crime-ridden underbough streets. Bridges crisscrossed between hanging houses; deathtraps as treacherous as the poison-sellers. Carrying a big sack to the underbough would guarantee being mugged, however. Or worse, becoming the latest gossip.


    Avoiding that place, I moved towards the edge of town, where the crowds of f¨ªfl began to thin out.


    Between the boughs and forks, webs of vines had been woven. The larger vines were as thick as oak trees, but most were like thick ropes. On these vine-nets, strung between the bough-streets, tents were pitched by thralls and paupers. This area formed V¨ªnbyr, the Vinetown, where the brothels sat on a natural hammock. Every week someone fell off of Thor Street, landing in Vinetown with a slight bounce¡ªan army of spirited harlots racing forward to kindly offer to help him get up¡­ at least as far as her bed. To fall further down would involve searching for a gap in the net, or cutting your way through. And if the harlots didn¡¯t gather around you as you did that, the children certainly would.


    Said brats were playing, clambering over the sea of swaying vines. Many wore kr¨­kh¨²fur, hook-hats. These were like grappling hooks, broad as their shoulders, and were tied to their belts by a strong cord. That way, if they fell through the vines, their hat would catch hold, and save them a long fall down to Hel.


    As I watched, one fell through the net without a kr¨­kh¨²fa. He caught onto a vine with hands and legs, clinging for dear life. The others laughed.


    Chuckling, I left the town by one of its many ladders to a higher bough. The ones near town were very nice; a stairway you could climb with just your feet. I didn¡¯t need to put down my sack and use an elevator or a rope to pull it up after me.


    Tragically, though, above the bough, not far from those stairs, the checkpoint was there. A little guardhouse and a gateway, sitting under the long shadow of a higher bough. I skipped past it using the shadow and the confused crowd, not wanting to pay any fees on what I was exporting from town.


    Following the bough, I distanced myself from Yggdrasill¡¯s trunk. The road was rougher here, rounded slightly as you would expect from a tree branch¡ªnot like the boughs in town that had been worn smooth and flat over the centuries. My spiked climbing boots kept me steady, the nails in their soles gripping the bark as I pushed through bush-sized sprouts and stepped over knots in the wood.


    ¡°Heillir ok s?llir!¡± I greeted a group of men. An old man with a dignified walk, followed by his two layabout sons. He dressed well for a karl, such that you could barely see the many patches and stitches his clothes bore from trading up and down the tree.


    ¡°Heill ok s?ll.¡± The elder watched me carefully. ¡°Harald, mind the donkey, there¡¯s a b?lvueur burl this way.¡±


    A burl, a wooden lump in the tree, was obscured by a leafy sprout. A red ribbon hung from the leaves; a warning to others. Harald, the smaller lad, looked down at the burl, and back to me, then back to the burl. I stood aside, waving an arm to magnanimously let them pass first.


    ¡°Fuekk you,¡± Harald said. Or rather, T?kk you, ¡°thank you.¡± Judging by his scowl¡­ he meant it how it sounds.


    The lad checked the belay cord between him and the donkey. He stroked its muzzle as it whuffled, blowing his hair with its nostrils. The ass was then led through slowly by Harald, as his larger brother pushed the wheelbarrow-cart hitched to the donkey. I saw they weren¡¯t belayed to the cart itself¡­ cowards. The donkey¡¯s hitch had a break-cord, too, designed to snap and let the cart fall rather than pull the beast down with it.


    ¡°What¡¯s in the sack?¡± the old man asked me.


    ¡°Potatoes!¡± Adjusting my bag higher, I gestured with sweeping grandeur.


    ¡°What are potatoes?¡±


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯re the most marvellous treats in the world! They come from Vinland, and a single potato can feed a man for a day!¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    He looked at me, and back to his sons. ¡°And what are you selling them for?¡± He asked, slowly.


    ¡°Oh ho! I doubt you could afford them, my friend. But if you like, I could give you just one¡­ only for two aura of hacksilver!¡±


    His eyes widened. He looked to his sons as if searching for escape. ¡°We already have so much¡­ but may Meili lead us to cross branches again.¡±


    ¡°Your loss,¡± I shrugged. ¡°You could¡¯ve traded it for a golden apple of Ieunn, and become young again.¡±


    He nodded, sourly looking between me and the town I just came from. ¡°What¡¯s taking you so long, lads?¡±


    ¡°Father, the cart is stuck on these b?lvueu sprouts,¡± Harald answered angrily. The donkey, which was unhappy to be stuck, got more worked up with its master¡¯s anger, braying and struggling. Harald, cursing quietly, took out his knife to¡­ cut the living tree?


    ¡°Stop!¡± the old man barked. ¡°You eldh¨²sf¨ªfl! What are you doing?¡± He strode forward and grabbed the boy¡¯s knife hand. He caught some of the blade as well.


    ¡°Father¡­ you¡¯re bleeding!¡±


    ¡°Never mind that! What got into your head to cut the tree? Do you think you¡¯re too stupid to be cursed!?¡±


    The boy had an exasperated look. ¡°We just cut your walking stick off, Father.¡±


    ¡°My walking stick was a practically dead branch! The tree will gift us what¡¯s dead, but not what¡¯s living.¡±


    ¡°The Jarl¡¯s men cut away branches and even burls¡ª¡±


    ¡°And the Jarl¡¯s men have taufrar to protect them, you h¨¢lfviti,¡± his brother added with a vindictive superiority. He unhitched the donkey, leading it away from the branches. It ambled about the bough placidly, enjoying its brief freedom.


    ¡°We have a taufr, too!¡± The boy bandaged their father¡¯s hand.


    ¡°And you want to waste it on a few branches!?¡± His father said, helping him tie the bandage.


    I could¡¯ve snuck past¡­ but it was just getting interesting.


    ¡°The tree won¡¯t care about a few sprouts!¡±


    ¡°Do you want to end up like your uncle!? He kept grafting his orchard into Yggdrasill, until one day a Warg found him!¡±


    ¡°That just happened.¡±


    ¡°Beasts and spirits, the ¨¢lfr, all of them will come after you, if you hurt the tree; do you understand?¡±


    ¡°The tappers get rich cutting the tree and taking its sap from it.¡± A slap rang out, the father¡¯s blood smeared across the boy¡¯s face.


    ¡°Never speak well of those outlaws! You¡¯re looking for a sorry death if you think of becoming a tapper.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say I was¡­.¡±


    ¡°No more heimskulegr talk. Come along¡­ we¡¯ve shamed ourselves in front of the stranger.¡±


    Sullenly, they said goodbye as I waved after them¡­ waiting till they were far out of sight.


    Then, once they were gone, the sack of potatoes slipped from my grasp. I watched it fall to the ground a mile below.


    Time to find the tappers, I thought.


    Detouring from the main road, I climbed a twig up into the tree canopy, ¡°the Thickets.¡± A dangerous maze of crisscrossing twigs in the deep shade of the leaves, where the trolls, bandits and tappers roamed. Leaping, I pulled myself up to the next twig, then hopped to another. Twigs got so narrow in places it was like walking on a log. You had to be careful where you placed your feet in the shadows¡­ but I was good at that, treating them like stepping stones in the light-speckled paths of the thicket, like a path of spidery fingers.


    Soon, I stepped into a clearing amongst the thicket, the twigs thinning enough I could see about half an axe-throw in front of me, some six yards. I could just barely make out a higher bough which was my point of reference. It was about a tenth of a circle to my left on the tree, and about 400 yards up, two bowshots distance. Surely they were somewhere around here¡­?


    "Prepare for Valh?ll, Interloper!" A man¡¯s voice called to me like a battlecry. And there I beheld two Norn-bloods¡ªa man and woman, each tall with red hair and great bull''s horns. He was first to spring at me with a dagger; a climber''s weapon.


    "Wait! It''s me, Crow!" Fleeing to a short, narrow twig¡ªonly a few horse-lengths long¡ªI tightrope-walked to near its end. It began to shake under me. As I¡¯d hoped, the large Norn hesitated to follow. He grinned, wickedly, and stomped near the base of the twig with his great, fat weight. The twig shook, but by bending knees and bouncing with it, I kept my balance, arms outstretched like a crow¡¯s wings.


    "So it is you, Crow¡­¡± He laughed as he stomped my twig again. ¡°Should''ve known from your stumbling about like an eldh¨²sf¨ªfl. Our camp is that way."


    ¡°Leave him alone, Njord.¡± The woman fidgeted with hands clasped as Njord stomped again and I wobbled on the branch, arms waving frantically.


    ¡°Shut up, Ragnhild.¡± Njord gave a half-hearted stomp. He took a step back. Grinning between them, I cautiously walked my way to join them on the thicker twigs, happy to be back on solid-tree.


    The female Norn, Ragnhild, sighed. Her narrow shoulders sank. "What took you so long?"


    "Getting this for you." Reaching to my satchel, I presented one of the lantern-flowers that light Yggdrasill; hanging from his branches like countless stars during the long months of the winter-night.


    "F¨ªfl, I picked one myself." She covered her smile, choking back a sweet laugh.


    I was a fair lad, and I''d enjoy that while I could.


    ¡°Enough heimskulegr talk. Keep your skirts down, sister,¡± Njord snapped, though she was wearing pants. ¡°And you better be on time from now on, Crow, or we¡¯ll see if you can fly.¡±


    I smiled and laughed at the joke. He did not.


    We walked in silence along a large twig, three abreast, following it back towards its branch. Time and again, Ragnhild would look at me and make a little noise like, ¡°umm,¡± ¡°so,¡± ¡°well.¡± Her musical syllables were followed by a harsh grunt from Njord. We were getting to know each other so well!


    Soon I smelled the campfire, the thin plume of its smoke almost lost amongst the twigs. The fire was built from dead twigs, leaves, and parasitic plants, Yggdrasill''s bark merely blackened by the flames.


    "And that''s nine." A dvergr, a dwarf, was smoking a heavy iron pipe, clasping it with thick hands.


    ¡°Hallbjorn! Good to see you again!¡± I held out a hand to him. He looked like he was checking it for lice¡­ his own finally coming up to shake it. The handshake was so firm I could hear human bone creaking under his dwarfish grip. ¡°Your handshake is stronger than I remember!¡± The creaking grew concerningly loud, but I kept a smile.


    The handshake mercifully ended with a mumble and a nod.


    ¡°Should I renew my oath?¡± I said, eager to show my loyalty.


    Hallbjorn, which means Stone-Bear, regarded me coldly and shook his head. He turned to the five rough Norsemen who were sitting with him. Without an order given, they put out the fire, packing up the cooking pot and some of the embers as they got ready to begin our trek. They didn''t even offer me warm mead... though Stonebear was kind enough introduce me to the others:


    "That''s Crow; he made us wait."

 Chapter 2: Blood Brother

    My new friends led the way, grunting in affectionate greeting as they gifted me their packs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t slow us down,¡± one helpfully suggested, tapping the dagger at his side as a sign of good luck. He was almost as tall as Njord, seeming taller for his strange hair¡ªcut short on either side, but leaving a tall tuft down the middle. It was like a rooster¡¯s comb.


    ¡°Good idea! What¡¯s your name?¡± Tying two of the sacks together, I balanced them on my shoulders.


    ¡°Birger.¡± He shared the loveliest scowl with me, the tattoos over his brow matching his eyes. ¡°Any other questions¡­?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t the sides of your head get cold?¡±


    He tapped the knife for luck, again, clutching the pommel¡­ then slowly let go of his lucky dagger. ¡°Watch it.¡±


    Watching that blade did seem pruden . As he left, I noted a trace of runes inked on his neck, and on his hands before he slipped on his gloves. These tappers must¡¯ve spent half their earnings on protective runes. The lucky knife had them on its scabbard, and likely over the blade. My packs were like wind chimes, covered in taufr, mostly pendants of Thor¡¯s hammer. But I wasn¡¯t looking at the ¡®mostly,¡¯ as something heretical caught my eye amongst it. Of all the symbols of Thor, Odinn, and all the more forgettable gods¡­ there was the S-shaped snake of Loki.


    After adjusting the packs, I hurried to catch up with the others.


    Still in the thicket, I trudged my way down the branch (or branchling), following the others towards the great-branch it stemmed from. There was no need to be quiet, surrounded by thousands of twigs from all sides, so I decided to sing for my compatriots: The Branches of Yggdrasill, a song to scare mischievous children.


    Yggdrasill, yfir - ?llum heimi


    Oh Yggdrasill, over all the Earth!


    stofn stendur sterkur - heimr styer


    Your trunk stands strong to hold up the world.


    vil ek n¨² syng - s¨²l Mimis


    I sing for the Pillar of M¨ªmir!


    hverr heimr haldist - ¨¢ limi


    Every realm is held up on your boughs,


    Tar Tr¨ªf Tursgreinur - tind himins


    the great-branch offshoots reach heaven''s peak,


    ''Ru greinir goear - ae ganga


    from them grow branches we walk in ease.


    m¨¢ kvisti klifra - mee ¨®tta


    Beware their twigs if you dare to climb,


    S¨¢''s hlaupir ¨¢ hr¨ªsi - mun falla


    to jump on <span class="fiction-tooltip" title=" Hr¨ªsi, ¡®sprout¡¯, ¡®twigling¡¯ or ¡®brush¡¯. If it¡¯s strong enough to stand on, it¡¯s a twig. If it breaks and you fall to your death, it was a sprout.


    ">twiglings will bring your fall¡ª


    Mj¨®rr sprengi sproti - ¨¢ sp¨ªru


    those <span class="fiction-tooltip" title=" Everywhere on Yggdrasill there is sun, sprouts grow. They range in size from inch long sticks (like normal sprouts) to sprout-trees, the size of mortal trees. If it¡¯s useful for climbing or walking, it¡¯s considered a twig.


    ">sprouts which bloom across the spire.


    Next were the verses about the nine worlds¡­ but a stick came flying at me from Birger. I ducked behind a protective sprout-tree which was growing out of the branchling, as thick as a mortal tree¡¯s trunk.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need nursery rhymes!¡± He threw another stick. Turning, I used his pack to block this one. Satisfied, Birger rejoined the others, Njord chuckling with him.


    Well¡­ I liked that song. ¡°Would you prefer I sing of Loki¡¯s binding with the entrails of his son?¡± I called out down the branchling, to Birger.


    He whipped around, hand on dagger. ¡°No.¡± He spoke softly¡­ yet loudly confirmed who the heretic was.


    Stepping around and pushing through the many bushy sprouts and twigs springing from the branchling, these packs I was gifted started to weigh me down with their generosity. The greedy sprouts would catch hold of them. So would the many surrounding twigs of the thicket, which closed in around us. It was like a jungle path from the far south, or the golden land of the <span class="fiction-tooltip" title=" To the far east, deep within the tundra, there is a land where the sun never sets. Dagsland, where the storms are fierce and the harvest eternal.


    ">never-setting east. And despite their many protective runes, the others didn¡¯t bother to cut a trail through this jungle, easily weaving through without their packs.


    I whistled my way along, dodging the sticks Birger threw. Soon we reached the base of the branchling we¡¯d been walking on, where it connected to the much thicker great-branch. This branch was so wide, you could sprint laps on it¡ªwith only half a chance of tripping and falling to your doom.


    ¡°Let¡¯s rest a bit.¡± Stonebear, the dwarf, sat on a twigling that had fallen onto the branch, part of it held up by another twig. People fear twigs falling on them in the thicket, but it was actually more dangerous here where the twigs were thinner, seeing as there¡¯s little to catch them.


    Sighing triumphantly, I presented the many packs down at Stonebear¡¯s feet. He nodded, as if acknowledging me took years off his life. The others came to get their things, checking the contents thoroughly. How rude¡­ as if I¡¯d steal anything obvious.


    Ragnhild approached me, walking with a sway as if her lower half was drunk. Njord caught her by one of her horns, and yanked her back to their spot in a patch of thick moss. She looked sullen, but gave me a little wave. Njord, seeing me return the gesture, also joined in¡ªby drawing a line across his own neck.


    I¡¯ll keep that in mind, I smirked to myself, liking the suggestion.


    While they checked their baggage¡ªBirger looking increasingly frustrated¡ªI hopped up to perch on a high twig growing from the branch.


    Looking through a gap in the thicket¡­ I saw trees walking.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°There are some Etnar over there.¡± The others didn¡¯t seem concerned by my report.


    ¡°Ignore them.¡± Stonebear was massaging his smelly dwarf feet. ¡°They¡¯re just pilgrims.¡±


    BIG pilgrims. The smaller ones could pick up Birger and throw him to his end, while the larger ones were almost three Njords stacked on top of each other¡ªthey could step on him! Not that I¡¯d step on someone with horns.


    Flocks of birds circled, many resting in the branches of the tree giants, from flitting sparrows and blue tits to fierce hawks and majestic crows. A living-tree waved one of its immense, hand-like branches, shooing away the birds that had perched on its long nose. The etunn in the lead had a crown of leafy branches that had been meticulously trimmed, the leaves shivering with every vast stride. Above its head, a great eagle nested atop the crown like a living crest, presumably the etunn¡¯s pet.


    ¡°It¡¯s GONE!¡± Birger raced at me, clambering up the twig. He was ready to catch a leg and pull me down. Seeing him coming, I pulled both legs up just out of reach of his clawing hand. Thrusting them out and away from Birger, I gained momentum and swung around the twig.


    Birger saw me, in that instant, preparing to swing to his left. He adjusted himself with his right hand, and drew his knife with his left, slashing quickly at me as I leapt off the twig. I recoiled from the slash, but not enough to evade it entirely. Landing on another part of the branch, I checked my arm. He had a good blade¡­ good enough to idly cut through my thick, warm jacket.


    ¡°You stole it, you sn¨¢kur!¡± Birger paused before charging again, realizing I was using Stonebear as a shield.


    Holding up my arm, blood slowly dripped through the tear for all to see. An impressed whistle came from one of the tappers, amidst their rolling hum of excited noises.


    Seems I was on my own.


    ¡°A snake? I thought Loki¡¯s thralls liked snakes!¡± I leapt up to a twig as Birger circled around¡ªthe knife now in his right-hand¡ªand swung to the opposite side of Stonebear. Birger quickly set his dagger in his teeth, unconcerned about tasting my blood, and swung and leapt after me. As he came off the branch, he quickly took the knife out of his mouth. He stretched his empty-hand forward for balance, and to grab me.


    Running around to the opposite side of Stonebear, I reset our positions.


    The dwarf looked left and right, pipe in hand, left and right; torn between the threat to my precious life and the hilarity of my thrilling antics. The others, too, enjoyed the spectacle, whooping and jesting as Birger chased me.


    ¡°Come back here you bleyea!¡± He looked around for something to throw at me.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you ask nicely?¡±


    If I get him to jump again, I could throw my knife into his belly.


    ¡°Tegi t¨², you heimskingjar!¡± Left and right, Stonebear looked between us as if I, too, was a heimskingi. I¡¯d forgotten dwarves have no sense of humour.


    ¡°That b¨®fi stole my taufr!¡± Birger was going to charge again, but he too remembered dwarves have no sense of humour, halting under Stonebear¡¯s glare.


    I gasped. ¡°Me!? Steal?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill him! You stole it!¡±


    ¡°It must¡¯ve fallen off when you threw sticks at me,¡± I shrugged, leaning against a twig.


    ¡°That was pure silver!¡±


    Another voice rang out from amongst the amused onlookers: ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask Loki for more silver?¡± A blonde norseman drank from his wineskin between peals of laughter. ¡°Serves you right for serving The Trickster; he¡¯ll make you a poor man.¡±


    Birger turned from me to some older grievance. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot, Erik, who bows to Thor while stealing sap from his father! What if he finds out what we¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°Gods don¡¯t care about every detail¡­ I¡¯m a little vague in my prayers when it comes to matters of tapping the tree. And it¡¯s better than sacrificing to a prisoner who can only thrash about and cause earthquakes.¡±


    ¡°You steal from the gods, but are still happy to be their thralls! Loki is free, the gods are nothing without him. He will overthrow Asgard and give it to mankind!¡±


    ¡°Tegi t¨²!¡± Stonebear rose to his full dwarfish height. ¡°Birger, you know we don¡¯t care about your f¨ªflskapr.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t be saying that when Ragnar?k comes¡­. you¡¯ll wish you earned Loki¡¯s favour then.¡±


    ¡°Ragnarok isn¡¯t coming¡­.¡±


    ¡°The signs are all there! If you just¡­. Forget it. Crow robbed me, so I¡¯m going to kill him.¡±


    ¡°It appears followers of Loki don¡¯t think much of their oaths¡­ he¡¯s your blood brother. And you drew blood from him.¡±


    Birger froze. ¡°He robbed his blood brother! You expect me to work with a thief?¡±


    Said the sap-thief.


    Stonebear added more opium to his pipe and took a deep huff. ¡°We¡¯ll get you a new one out of Crow¡¯s share¡­ since he lost it.¡±


    ¡°You think that makes things right? I have no taufr to protect me!¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s new. And you¡¯re covered in runes, you¡¯ll be fine. Now, why don¡¯t you go on ahead and set up the ladders, since you feel so spirited.¡±


    ¡°Why should I¡ª¡± Birger noticed Njord stand up, nearly one and a half Stonebears tall, above even his rooster-comb in height. ¡°Fine! I don¡¯t mind hard work.¡± He walked past Stonebear, towards me. I had a hand on my knife, just in case.


    He flashed his blade, aiming for the neck or face¡­ but stopped short, putting it in his scabbard. Hissing at me like some mangy cat, he walked up the branch, away from the trunk; oblivious to how close to death he came.


    Waving goodbye to the furious Birger, I slid up beside Stonebear. ¡°Was he always this good natured?¡±


    ¡°You made him worse.¡± Stonebear puffed his pipe at me, the sweet smell of opium mixed with terrible dwarf breath.


    ¡°Do you want me to go and help him?¡±


    ¡°No! Keep your distance from him. And stop poking the bear.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯d be a lot happier if I let him stab me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well¡­¡± Stonebear stopped short of saying he¡¯d also be a lot happier if Birger stabbed me, and so would Njord. I could tell from his beady dwarf eyes. ¡°Thank Odinn he didn¡¯t.¡± Stonebear finished, sparing my delicate feelings.


    ¡°And for the sap he¡¯ll gift us.¡± I held up my Valknut taufr, the three interlocked triangles of Odinn.


    ¡°...Indeed. You best pray that none of us are sacrificed to Odinn during this venture.¡±


    ¡°My blood brothers are always in my prayers, Stonebear. Just as Torsten is.¡±


    Suspicion flickered in his sidelong glance. ¡°Torsten? You met him?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and what a kind and generous host your brother is!¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like you met him.¡± He shook out his pipe.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you get along?¡±


    ¡°We do. Now enough with the questions. Ragnhild, come over.¡±


    Ragnhild bounced over with a smile. ¡°Can I do anything for you, Stonebear?¡±


    The effect was not lost on Stonebear. Being a norn-blood, she was about as tall as a karl¡ªso Stonebear was at chest height. ¡°I need you to go with Vidar, to the elevator,¡± he said, struggling to look up at her eyes, as she struggled not to titter. ¡°Take only the basics. Go to the cache near Trollsrest, and set up a route for us to climb up to you.¡±


    ¡°Anything for my brave protector Stonebear!¡± She draped herself over him, giving a little peck on his cheek.


    ¡°Yes, yes¡­ enough of that.¡± He said, as if he didn¡¯t just hand her the easiest job.


    Being a man, it seemed, was a mistake on my part. Is this why he doesn¡¯t like me?


    ¡°See you later, Crow.¡± Ragnhild put honey to words, waving with her fingers more than her hand. ¡°Don¡¯t let Birger kill you.¡±


    Stonebear made a gruff noise. ¡°Yes, Crow¡­ try not to die.¡±


    Yup, that¡¯s why.

 Chapter 3: Making Enemies

    Ragnhild went off with Vidar, his arm around her. Njord and Stonebear had some choice words with them before they left. Ragnhild became two shades paler as her brother made some dire oaths regarding any misbehaviour. They went towards the trunk with silver to pay for the elevator, pretending to be a married pair of merchants.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t we all do that?¡± I asked, as we made our way up the thicket. We first went up one of the highest branchlings, then began to climb and jump from twig to twig up the thicket.


    ¡°That¡¯d be a funny sight.¡± Erik helped me to the next twig, laughing from his belly as he took my hand. ¡°A bunch of ruffians loaded like pack mules with climbing gear saying, ¡®oh, we¡¯re just harmless merchants, don¡¯t mind the dragon venom¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Of course we¡¯d be loaded up like mules,¡± I said, hoisting Erik up, ¡°just as any enterprising Tree-Climbing Suppliers would!¡±


    Erik roared and wheezed with laughter, grabbing onto an upright fork in the twig for support. As the f¨ªfl was so easily paralysed, I had to affix the ropes for Njord by myself.


    ¡°You daft boy.¡± Njord climbed up the ropes, dextrous for a big guy. ¡°We¡¯d have to pay customs for all our goods. And then if¡¯n we didn¡¯t sell them, they¡¯d get suspicious.¡±


    ¡°Then we should sell them.¡± Hopping and skipping, I came to a thick, tall twig¡ªgood for climbing. Putting my tree-climbing spikes on my boots, I slung a rope around the twig. Sticking my spiked boots into it, I¡¯d slide the rope higher then pull it tight, allowing me to take two steps up. Repeating this, I walked up the tree two steps at a time. And when I found an annoying sprout in the way of my rope, no good for climbing, I cut it away with my knife.


    ¡°Who would you sell them to?¡± Erik caught the rope I tossed down, climbing after me.


    ¡°To a nefarious band of heretical tappers, of course.¡± Testing the rope, I jumped and swung on it over to the next twig, grabbing it with my legs and pulling myself onto it. ¡°Redeemed only by their handsome hero: Crow.¡±


    Erik let the rope slap him in the face as he held his sides, gasping.


    ¡°And what about the dragon venom?¡± Njord tested my rope and my knot. He was a careful sort¡­. ¡°That¡¯s some awfully powerful venom to be selling to some orchard farmers to graft in their saplings¡ªenough to kill a whole village.¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Well, I expect your sister could find places to hide it¡­ though I suspect men frequent those.¡±


    Njord¡¯s face became as red as his hair.


    ¡°Shut up, Erik!¡± Njord slapped Erik, who was almost rolling off the branch laughing, oblivious to the strike. He caught hold of the rope, swinging towards me like a battering ram. ¡°I may see you fly yet, Crow!¡±


    ¡°If only you were so lucky.¡± I tsked, leaping to the next branch just before he swung into me.


    ¡°Get back here! It¡¯s not safe to go alone!¡± Njord desperately tried to right himself on the branch as I made distance.


    ¡°It¡¯s not safe to climb twigs with an angry bull!¡± I waved before clambering up the nearest twig, disappearing into the thicket.


    ¡°Stop laughing, Erik!! Shut up and swing over here!¡±


    Climbing higher, Njord¡¯s curses and threats faded into the layers of leaves and branches. I avoided cutting or breaking any sprouts while climbing, lest he trail me before his temper cooled.


    The twigs grew sparser as I reached the top of the thicket. Before, you could barely see more than a few horse-lengths in front of you, and now you could see far enough to cast a spear¡ªsome fifty yards. Njord may test that¡­ so I kept close to cover. There were still many places to hide amongst the scattered bunches of crisscrossing twigs.


    Looking up from my hiding place, I saw Birger had set up a ladder. ¡®Ladder¡¯ in this case being a single rope with knots tied into it to grab while climbing. In getting up here, I had seen no trail markers left for us, nor any ropes to help us with the ascent. The long absence of any sign of Birger had given me hope he had fallen to his demise; a kindness to save me the trouble.


    The bottom of the ladder was tied near the top of a steep twig, which I began to climb. The thicket thinned out to nothing as I went higher. Around me, I could see other thickets a few miles in the distance, the trunk just barely visible in the distance through its many canopies of leaves. Away from the tree, I could see ships sailing along the fjords, into the vast ocean where the icebergs floated with the currents.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The wind was fierce here, becoming a howling chill that threatened to sweep me off the twig. Keeping low, I grasped the twig with both hands, slowly crawling up it until I came to the ladder. It reached up to a twig about half a bowshot¡¯s distance. Not directly above my twig, but some hundred yards up and maybe sixteen away from the branch, the rope hanging at a very steep angle. Little colored flags flapped in the wind, helping us to see the rope. Seemed careless, to me¡­ I would easily spot that and set up a trap for any tappers who intended¡ª


    An arrow whizzed in my direction. I didn¡¯t move, grasping the branch tighter. It missed me by a couple of yards. Was it because of poor aim, or did the wind buffet it aside?


    Birger jeered from above, shouting. ¡°Seems you didn¡¯t spook and fly away, Crow!¡±


    I had a feeling I¡¯d hear that joke a lot¡­ but three times in one day?


    ¡°After how long it took to climb here, there¡¯s no way I¡¯m going down again! What with the useless route you fixed!¡±


    Birger reached for another arrow. ¡°It was an easy climb!¡± His hand stopped half way, not grabbing the next arrow. ¡°Do you even know how we¡ª¡± The wind picked up.


    ¡°What!?¡± I cupped an ear to him.


    ¡°I said¡ª! ...Never you mind, get up here and I¡¯ll tell you!¡±


    He isn¡¯t going to cut the rope when I¡¯m halfway up, is he? It was hard to imagine him not doing that. The other end of the rope was affixed to the twig I was standing on, so he wouldn¡¯t need to worry about losing rope if he cut me off.


    Still, it was probably safer to go up than to stay down here with Njord. I could wait for Erik to be a witness to any foul play¡­ but he¡¯d probably just laugh as it happened. And if Njord climbed up first and joined forces with Birger, I¡¯d really be in trouble.


    ¡°What¡¯s taking you so long!? Don¡¯t you know how to climb a rope!?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a bit out of practice, since your terrible route had none!¡±


    ¡°I already told you, we don¡¯t¡ª¡± The wind swept away his explanation, once again.


    There was the possibility to just hide in the thicket until the other team came through, but¡­ it might be useful if we were alone.


    Grabbing the first knot, I hauled myself up two feet to the next one. Normally, any resident of Yggdrasill could climb a rope without knots¡­ but this one was only a quarter tumal thick, and the wind was fierce. My climbing spikes were left in my satchel as I dared not use them for grip. If the rope beneath me was cut, I would swing around in the breeze, and climbing would get very hard.


    Pressing my boots against the knot below me, I wished I could just curl my feet and grab the rope; then it¡¯d be easy to pull myself up. Easier still if I could fly¡­ though that wind would toss me about. It already was: Gripping the rope tighter, I felt myself lurch to one side in a sudden gale, the rope gently creaking. The rope was affixed at both ends, but even so it had enough slack to whip me here or there.


    While I climbed and endured oppressive gusts, I looked up towards Birger, that rooster-combed head peering down. Come to think of it, if he was sawing the part of the rope tied around his twig¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be able to see it.


    I should¡¯ve thought of that.


    Gripping the rope tightly with gloved hands and forehead pressed against it, I tried to feel through my garb whether Birger was sawing away at my ladder.


    Probably not¡­?


    At any moment I could fall, and Birger would say, ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can fly, Crow!¡±


    But come to think of it, I have a klifrigg on, don¡¯t I? Yes, a leather climbing harness around the shoulders, waist and legs, like a belt with suspenders and leg-loops.


    While Birger watched ¨C still a distance away ¨C I performed a foot-wrap; the ladder having just enough slack. Using one foot, I hooked the ladder and pulled it so that it curled under the other foot, so it looked like a step. Pushing with one foot and pulling with the other, I could support my weight as if I were standing on solid ground. You can also climb by this method¡­ but this ladder didn¡¯t have nearly enough slack, being hitched at both ends.


    In the same moment I used the foot-wrap, I had taken some cord that was hanging from my harness and began tying a cinch-knot around the ladder. A cinch knot is like a lasso, it tightens when it¡¯s pulled on¡­ so if I fell I could easily cinch it tight.


    If Birger cut me loose, friction with the ladder and with its knots would slow me down. After I stopped near the end of the rope, I¡¯d climb back up to the twig I started from, and make new plans to stab Birger.


    The loop of the cinch-knot was wide, so I could ascend up the ladder without it catching on the knots. Moving cautiously, I watched Birger¡¯s head to see if it bobbed or he glanced to where the rope was tied to his twig¡ªsigns he was sawing it. He watched me intently, betraying nothing. Which was strange, as I couldn¡¯t imagine that eldh¨²sf¨ªfl Trickster-Thrall preventing a smug, gleeful, murderous grin from painting his ugly features, if he was sawing the rope.


    Maybe he was too dumb to think of the idea? I was, and I¡¯m a genius.


    Hold on¡­ he may have had a simpler plan. Wait till I¡¯m three quarters of the way up¡ªthen shoot at this handsome face.


    Birger stood up, bow in hand, arrow already nocked¡ªits sharp point aiming straight at me.

 Chapter 4: A Deadly Sense of Humour

    The wind wouldn¡¯t save me at this distance, hanging from this ladder which was just a thin, knotted rope. Birger stood at the top of the ladder on the twig ten yards above¡­ his arrow pointing straight at me. And because the climbing-rope I was clinging to was knotted, it would be a lot harder to slide down to gain distance.


    Why did climbing have to be so complicated¡­? I would take the others¡¯ advice and fly from now on!


    I threw myself to one side, spinning around the rope like a pole-dancer. Birger paused in a half draw, seeing that my dancing and the wind made me sway in every direction.


    While carrying their things, I had seen a quiver with a dozen arrows, with fletchings just like the one Birger shot at me. He had already used one of his dozen¡ªit would be a problem to lose many more, if he was planning to hide the murder of Crow, his blood-brother, from the others.


    After hesitating, he finally drew back his longbow. It was almost as tall as he was, and took a couple of seconds to draw back fully.


    Loosening my grip and stepping off the knot, I slid down, feeling a jerk of resistance as I hit the next knot below me. Repeating this, and throwing myself about, I confused his range and target. I just needed him to loose his arrow and miss¡­ then I could safely throw my dagger. If I throw it before he shoots, he could hit me while I cast it at him¡ªin that moment of stillness after all my weight and force had been placed behind that blade, and sluggishly I regain control after a few deadly seconds. So I had to get him to shoot, and then kill him.


    He couldn¡¯t hold his draw for long, easing off and then drawing again. It was a powerful bow meant to launch a heavy arrow some 100 yards straight up, and it would shoot even faster straight down. It did take a couple of seconds to fully draw back to his ear, and I could send my knife to his heart in that time¡ªbut his bow was half-drawn, more than enough force that his arrow might wound me even as I slew him, if he let go of the string.


    He aimed here and there, back and forth, leaning so far off his twig to shoot down I hoped he might fall. Then an evil grimace crossed his graffitied face¡­ and he laughed.


    ¡°Look at you, so spooked you can¡¯t stop wobbling around! Not so still and sure of yourself this time.¡± He stepped away from the edge. ¡°Come on up!¡±


    A trick¡­? Would he leap forward and shoot an arrow while I relax in the last few feet of the climb¡­? My knife would be faster, if so.


    He slung his bow over his shoulder.


    OK, he was planning to stab me as I crested the twig¡­ My knife would still be faster.


    Approaching the last few feet of ladder, tensely, he offered me a hand.


    He¡¯s going to throw me off the twig after I take it, knowing if I stab him I¡¯d still be doomed to fall¡ªbut he mustn¡¯t have noticed the cinch-knot binding me to the ladder. I could cut him to pieces, then regain myself as I slid down.


    Birger chuckled as I grasped his hand, my grin suitably nervous to give nothing away¡­ then he helped me up. I waited for the shove, the stab, the, ¡°let¡¯s see if you can fly, Crow!¡± which I¡¯d interrupt with a slice of his throat.


    There was an unpleasant jerk; not Birger, but a lurching sensation, as I felt the cord from my belt which was tied to the ladder stopping me suddenly.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Birger pointed at my cord and cinch-knot.


    ¡°Insurance, in case you cut my ladder.¡± I untied the knot, looking between it, him, and the thicket below. Njord¡¯s unmistakable menace was peeking through the leaves, which shook as he tried to force his horns through them.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just use a bite-pulley?¡±


    ¡°A what?¡±


    ¡°You know¡­ the dvergr pulleys that stop you falling.¡± He reached into his satchel, pulling out a wooden pulley. Removing two metal pins he removed the face of it, revealing what looked like a wheel and a set of iron teeth, a line of rope strung around the wheel.


    ¡°It lets you go up,¡± he pulled one end of the rope, and it easily threaded through the pulley, ¡°but won¡¯t let you fall down.¡± Pulling the other side of the rope, it caught on the iron teeth, and caused them to bite into the rope until he couldn¡¯t pull it further.


    ¡°I think that would¡¯ve just made it harder to dodge your arrows, if I couldn¡¯t go down.¡± I squinted at the frivolous dvergr tool. It was pretty simple¡­ I could make that; if I wanted to, and it wasn¡¯t a waste of time.


    ¡°Bah! What are you so scared of? There¡¯s no way that arrow would¡¯ve hit you.¡± Birger put away the device, scowling.


    No way it could¡¯ve hit me, eh? I couldn¡¯t tell if he was violent and murderous or violent and stupid.


    ¡°Besides,¡± I continued, ¡°if you cut the rope above me I would ¡®fall up¡¯ the rope. And that stupid pulley wouldn¡¯t care in the slightest, as it has no sense of gravity.¡± I stood on my hands to demonstrate my point. If the top of the rope became the bottom of the rope¡­ I¡¯d slide down easily.


    ¡°You could¡¯ve just put it on upside down; if I cut the rope and it dropped below you, it¡¯d stop your fall.¡±


    ¡°Except it would¡¯ve stopped me climbing up the rope, too.¡±


    Birger blinked, about to argue something stupid like clamping on that awkward little gimmick while I was falling. ¡°But you could jus¡ª What do you know, anyway? You don¡¯t even know how we fix routes!¡±


    ¡°I fixed them all the time, up in the tree.¡± I thought back to all I had seen in the upper parts of the tree, below Asgard¡¯s glittering glory: looking down as people went about their lives. They would form long trails of ropes, ladders, pitons, and all sorts, harvesting anything they could to sell to the lower branches. Iron seeds, the shed skins of Golden Beetles, eggs from mother birds¡¯ nests, and the fruit that sometimes grows from Yggdrasill high in the heavens.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Birger chuckled. ¡°We¡¯re not going on a little berry-picking trip, Feilan.¡± He picked up his bag and walked away along the branch.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen people die on some of those ¡®berry-picking¡¯ trips.¡± Following, I recalled what it¡¯s like when one of the upper treemen did miss a step, or a knot came loose, or they made some other tiny mistake while they were panting in the thin air near the end of the day. Often, they were remarkably silent as they fell off, their fellows being the ones to holler and cry as they watched their companion disappear¡ªif the others even noticed him falling.


    ¡°Well, they should¡¯ve used a bite-pulley.¡± He came to a stop, pointing at a higher twig. ¡°You see that? That¡¯s what our ladders are for.¡±


    ¡°Should I climb on your shoulders?¡±


    ¡°Enough heimskulegr talk!¡± He grabbed an arrow and I grabbed my knife.


    Birger snickered. ¡°Seems I really did get you jumpy.¡± He took out a strange arrow from its own part of the quiver. It had a small grappling hook instead of an arrowhead, one able to fit in the palm of your hand. He took a long coil of string out of his pack, and threaded it through a hole in the grapple.


    He handed me both ends of the string. ¡°Tie these somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Can you ask nicely?¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    There were two ends of the string, and he didn¡¯t tell me if there was any special way to tie them. I decided to use a double mermaid knot, vaguely remembering some karl using it for his fishing nets. I made a loop, the mermaid¡¯s tail, and put the other string through it. Then, I made that second string a noose to choke the mermaid to death. I fixed the knot around a thick sprout as I tied it.


    Birger drew back the mighty bow. This involved lifting the bow a little over his head. Grunting loudly, he leaned forward, his ars sticking out, engaging all his torso¡¯s many muscles. He lowered the bow as he drew it, until the arrow was at eye-level, the string drawn all the way back to his ear. Then, he pointed it almost straight up, and shot the hook towards the high branch.


    It missed.


    ¡°Shut up!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything.¡±


    ¡°You were going to!¡± Birger reeled in the grappling hook. ¡°It takes a few tries¡­.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t wrong. He missed the second time, too.


    ¡°Let me try!¡±


    ¡°No! It¡¯s my bow!¡±


    ¡°But you keep missing. We¡¯ll be here all day.¡±


    ¡°A skinny sprout like you couldn¡¯t pull this bow, anyway.¡± Birger said, missing again. The grapple made the arrow fly awkwardly, so it could veer in an unexpected direction. The twig he chose may¡¯ve also been just a touch too high.


    ¡°You must be tired at this point, let me try!¡±


    ¡°Tegi t¨²! You keep distracting me!¡±


    While Birger missed a fourth time, my gaze moved from between his shoulder blades to the thicket down below. Njord and Erik were starting to climb the ladder.


    It¡¯d be fun to cut it¡­.


    ¡°There! You see!? Weren¡¯t you watching!?¡± Birger furiously pointed to the grapple, which had presumably sailed over the high twig.


    ¡°Good job, Birger!¡± I clapped enthusiastically.


    ¡°Shut up! Now pull the grapple in.¡±


    Pulling in the string, I felt some resistance as the grapple¡ª


    ¡°Stop! What are you doing!?¡± Birger grabbed the string, halting my reeling.


    ¡°Just what some f¨ªfl told me to.¡±


    ¡°Another joke like that and I¡¯ll gut you like a pig and throw you off, Blood-Brother or not.¡± He began to tug on the string, carefully, testing the grapple¡¯s grip.


    He gave a hard pull¡­ and whatever was holding the grapple in place slipped, and it jumped free. Birger paled as it rolled towards him.


    ¡°Ahhh! No!¡± Birger squealed. He began whipping the string up and down, causing waves to bounce through it. Despite the great length of string, it was just enough to flip the little grapple, which rolled back to the far side of the twig.


    ¡°The Firekeeper be thanked.¡± He sighed, beginning the process of tugging on the string again. He wandered up and down our twig, trying to get the best angle, to manoeuvre the grapple to a solid place to get stuck. Giving another hard pull¡­ the grapple stayed in place.


    I noticed Erik bumbling up from behind. ¡°What are you two heimskingjar doing?¡± Erik scanned between us, searching for stab-wounds.


    ¡°Shut up, Erik.¡± Birger pulled out a larger grapple from his bag, weighing probably four merkur. He tied another one of those annoying, quarter-tumal knotted ¡®ladders¡¯ to the big grapple.


    Then, there were several stealthy footsteps approaching me. A big, meaty hand grabbed my shoulder, flipping me around. It was the bull, and he was about to punch me in the head. I blocked with two arms, feeling them shake with the impact as I stumbled back.


    ¡°Blood-Brother or not, you need to watch your mouth, you tr?lborinn hundr!¡± Njord glared down at me, fists ready¡ªso I did my best to suppress a grin.


    Born was I, to a thrall? Don¡¯t smile, don¡¯t laugh¡ªhe wants to hit me again.


    ¡°What do you find so amusing, hundr¡­?¡± Njord asked, fist raised.


    ¡°Are you and Ragnihild twins?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ why?¡±


    ¡°Just imagining the commotion at the birth when Hel herself was made flesh, with her beautiful half¡­ and your half.¡±


    Njord had a real talent for turning as red as a beet. Just as I had a talent for getting into trouble.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s time to find out if you can fly, Crow.¡±


    I groaned even before he finished speaking, knowing he would say that.


    Odinn, why must they torture me so?


    Njord grabbed me, ready to hurl me off the tree.

 Chapter 5: Coming to Grips

    Njord seized me by the klifrigg. I grabbed onto his klifrigg in turn, as we began to wrestle.  His face was as red as his fiery hair, his bull¡¯s horns looking ready to gore me.


    He shoved and I pulled away, making no effort to overpower him. Yet, if I moved with him, letting him push me around as I pulled him, or push him when he pulled me¡­ strong as he was, he started to lose his balance as I exaggerated his motions.


    We circled around the twig, which was only a horse length and a half wide. Our steps were careful to avoid the sprouts that would trip us, the burls that would make us slip, the rounded parts of the branch that threatened to roll us off. I was working well and quick, but Njord clearly was better with his feet than his face, and his strength made him able to right himself even as I unrighted him. He would pull me towards him, and I¡¯d leap against him with great force, trying to take him off his feet¡ªbut such is a norn¡¯s strength that he endured this, keeping his footing.


    He pushed hard on my shoulder, forcing me to turn. Grabbing his arm, I tried to pull him along with me, so that he would circle around me as I was spun around. But his other hand caught my belt and lifted me so I was standing on just one leg, hopping. I had almost no strength like this. I kicked at his knee, but he was already barrelling into me, his arms wrapping around the chest as he performed a crushing bearhug.


    I heard ribs creaking, threatening to break¡­ but so long as I resisted, he didn¡¯t have quite the strength to break anything. He couldn¡¯t keep this up, and the moment he let go¡­ I¡¯d finish this with my dagger.


    ¡°Crow, what kind of knot from Hel is this!?¡± Birger¡¯s call interrupted our wrestling match. Njord tossed me aside, using his whole body to cast me away, before turning to look.


    I fell off the twig.


    ¡°That¡¯s a¡­ lower tree ram¡¯s knot, isn¡¯t it?¡± Njord said, towering over the kneeling Birger.


    ¡°No it¡¯s not, that one has more twists.¡± Birger was untying and retying it, testing its strength.


    ¡°Your hands are in the way, so I can¡¯t see.¡± Njord pointed out.


    ¡°Let me see!¡± Erik said, pushing his way in. ¡°Huh¡­ pretty simple knot, looks like the hands of Frigg.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m all right, by the way.¡± I had grabbed onto a sprout during my fall. It was threatening to break, though.


    ¡°Where did you learn this knot?¡± Birger vaguely regarded my precarious position, motioning to Erik.


    ¡°I think it was from a sendl¨ªna,¡± I said, catching the line Erik tossed me and hauling myself up. ¡°Noticed they had a funny way of tying the message to it.¡± Sendl¨ªnur were like clothesline pulleys, strings that let you reel messages and small packages up the tree.


    ¡°Really?¡± Erik grinned as he towed my line. ¡°I worked in a sendl¨ªnh¨²s! Learned all kinds of knots people would tie their messages with. Can learn a lot about a person by how they tie their knots.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡± I made eye-contact and smiled, the perfect picture of interest until he got me back on the branch.


    ¡°Yes! The lower tree will send up clay tablets, you know, made from the earth of Midgard below¡ªand some of those knots were just so tight you have to cut them, they were terrified of them falling and breaking!¡±


    Nodding and smiling, I came onto the twig. ¡°What a good story, Erik! Tragic it¡¯s over already.¡± Three quick steps removed me from Erik, towards my two good friends who were never boring when they tried to kill me.


    ¡°But I haven¡¯t told you about the adulterers, yet!¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­?¡± I took three quick steps back.


    ¡°Yes, you must¡¯ve gotten a lot of them at your sendl¨ªnh¨²s, too? Or didn¡¯t you notice?¡± He winked, looking like Odinn if he were young and stupid. ¡°I¡¯d look at knots that seemed to be tied by a woman, or an overeager hand¡ªand it was always a sealed message, usually a scrawl-leaf or a birch-letter. There was a fellow in the sendl¨ªnh¨²s, Ivar, who always kept the ketill on the fire, so we had warm mead while working in that cold wind. And since wax seals were popular then¡ª¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Wax seals!? The idiots!¡±


    ¡°Yes! So I¡¯d take them to the kettle, and the steam would break the seal. I¡¯d then unfold the letter¡­ and they write the most shocking things! Just rolling in their shame, getting a thrill from talking about what they¡¯re doing to their wives and husbands!¡±


    ¡°Any Jarls? Rich b?ndr?¡±


    ¡°Jarls? Not so much; nobles always send up a missive requesting a servant to be there before they send up the letter, to prevent any funny business. The servant sends down a note to confirm he¡¯s there. Though sometimes¡­ we¡¯d open the letter with him!¡±


    I cawed with laughter, enjoying this other side of Erik. ¡°And how much did you make?¡±


    ¡°Make?¡±


    ¡°By blackmailing them, of course.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­.¡± Erik¡¯s face clamped shut. ¡°Sometimes we talked about it¡­ but we never did get to trying that.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s why you¡¯re here, instead of sipping mead with a h¨®ra on each arm.¡± I turned to rejoin the others, realizing his other side was as much a f¨ªfl as the first.


    ¡°What about you? Did you blackmail anyone at your sendl¨ªnh¨²s?¡± He followed after me, annoyingly.


    ¡°Oh, I never worked at one.¡±


    ¡°What? But you said you learned knots from a sendl¨ªna?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡ªstealing letters from them.¡±


    For the first time I¡¯d seen him, and possibly the first in his life, Erik frowned.


    ¡°You stole people¡¯s letters?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How could you do such a thing?¡±


    ¡°I lowered myself on a rope, and was quick at untying the knots.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that! Poor karls use the sendl¨ªnur. Were you stealing their letters?¡±


    ¡°Not if I could tell the sender was poor. There¡¯s little interest reading about the price of eggs and mushrooms being too high. Though some of them were from karls.¡±


    In retrospect, I wished I had said something meaner, like I shook them to search for pennies and then threw them away out of spite.


    Erik reacted as if I had. ¡°Do you realize many karls have to pay someone to write and read those letters for¡ª¡±


    Birger shrieked with laughter, his tattoos contorting into a twisted parody of protective runes. ¡°Looks like the wolfling has more teeth than you do, Erik.¡±


    Rather than look angry, Erik¡¯s features sagged in exhaustion. ¡°You¡¯re always going on about Loki giving Asgard, or the Tree or pretty Valkyries to mankind, but you¡¯re fine with robbing poor karls?¡± He was the sort of soul who felt obligated to reach out to people¡­ no matter how many fingers he lost.


    Birger sneered, ¡°I said mankind¡­ not karls and thralls.¡±


    ¡°I said karls, not thralls. Though even thralls are part of your glorious ¡®allir menn¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Barely any difference between slaves of the gods. They¡¯re happy to rake the dirt and toil for any master, so it doesn¡¯t concern the feeble-minded. You, for instance, who blubbers over stolen letters of karls, while you steal precious sap from your own gods.¡±


    ¡°The tree has oceans of sap to spare, the karls scrape the bottom of the barrel for the dregs of sauerkraut.¡±


    ¡°If they had courage, they wouldn¡¯t starve and give all they have to the gods and jarls. It¡¯s their own fault.¡±


    Erik was consternated, and ¡®consternated¡¯ is an awfully big word for Erik. ¡°Njord, you say something. Your parents were poor karls, weren¡¯t they?¡±


    Njord¡¯s jaw clenched when Erik said that. ¡°I¡¯d rather hear how Crow managed this little trick hanging from his rope.¡±


    He said it as if my life was hanging by a rope, or a thread of one.

 Chapter 6: Hanging by a Princess

    ¡°What¡¯s to tell?¡± I spoke casually, internally scrambling to remember and rewrite the details of how I stole the letters from the sendl¨ªna.


    Erik looked deflated after Njord¡¯s evasive response, but continued under the norn blood¡¯s prompting stare: ¡°The lines are often out in the open air. You¡¯d sway in the wind, too.¡±


    ¡°Not all of them. Some pass near brush no one is willing to cut away, what with the curse of the tree. And the wind¡¯s not so bad there¡ª¡± Njord didn¡¯t look satisfied, ¡°¡ªbut sometimes I tied a weight to the rope.¡±


    Njord looked¡­ well, not satisfied. Slightly less angry?


    ¡°Just whatever heavy debris was nearby was good enough. Drop my own line with the weight, it barely sways at all. Then I climbed down, adjusted a little, and started nabbing letters¡ªparticularly those intended for jarls¡±


    ¡°But the sender rings the bell to let us know a letter is coming.¡± Erik tried to reason his way out of reality. ¡°If no letter showed up, we¡¯d know something was wrong, and ring four times back to the sender.¡±


    The bell he mentioned was at the end of another long string next to the sendl¨ªna, with all sorts of codes you could send by ringing long and short.


    ¡°I wrote my own letters and put them on.¡± I made sure to sound exasperated with a heaving sigh, just so they could hear how exasperated I was explaining every little thing.


    ¡°You can write?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you? You can read.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I can. Not well enough to impersonate a jarl, though!¡±


    ¡°Impersonate a jarl? Why bother? There¡¯s no way to know who is sending them. And it¡¯s easy to trick them since sendl¨ªnh¨²sur are always run by eldh¨²sf¨ªfl.¡± I gave a sidelong glance to Erik as I said the last part. Annoyingly, but unsurprising, he merely laughed like an eldh¨²sf¨ªfl.  ¡°And the missives are easy to forge! I wrote a bunch for someone sending an important inquiry to the ¡®financial advantage¡¯ of the jarl concerned; asking that a servant of his be present to receive it.


    Njord stroked his blood-red beard. ¡°And no one was the wiser?¡±


    ¡°How could they be? The h¨¢lfviti manning the post rings his little bell to say, ¡®missive received, the servant is here¡¯.¡± I had caught Njord¡¯s skepticism¡­ but also his interest.


    ¡°So, the lackey sends the letter up none the wiser; right into my waiting claws. I tie on the fake message about a yard before the real one gets on, then untie or cut the real one loose. When I was done with it, I¡¯d often send up the real missive and the real letter.¡±


    Erik made me immediately regret admitting that last part. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s not so bad then!¡± He beamed at me, as if we were ¡®friends again¡¯.


    Njord persisted. ¡°And how much did you get from this?¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°Sometimes silver pennies¡­ sometimes terrible advice on investments.¡± And some things far too valuable to tell these brutes. ¡°I did have ideas to kidnap a bragningsd¨®ttur while on her way to marry a jarl.¡­ but alas, I lack the connections for such a scheme.¡±


    Birger chortled. ¡°Or you lack the courage.¡± Said the Loki-thrall, protective runes scribbled all over his body.


    ¡°Oh, I have the courage¡­ but I¡¯m too handsome to die for nothing. To pull off such a task, I would need a norn with hair as red as the blood of my enemies, and a trickster covered head to toe in graffiti, and only the gods would know why Erik would be involved at all.¡±


    I triumphed in the silence that followed.


    ¡°This bragningsd¨®ttur, this princess¡­ ¡± Njord was the first fish to bite, fittingly. ¡°When were you thinking of abducting her?¡±


    ¡°By the letters I got, and what I heard from the servants¡­ late summer is a good time to send your daughters off with a rich heiman fylgia.¡±


    Birger whistled. ¡°Good thing you didn¡¯t throw him off the twig, Njord!¡± He snickered a money-loving snicker.


    Erik looked dumbstruck (more than usual). ¡°Stealing a princess, before her wedding¡­? ¨¢fram! I¡¯m eager to go on this adventure with you!¡± Erik was a simple fellow¡­ I needn¡¯t worry about him.


    Birger was as smug as a mangy ca. ¡°Not going to complain about poor mistreated princesses?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to mistreat her¡­ we¡¯re just kidnapping her.¡± Erik explained.


    Birger made a sound like a hyena, nodding in agreement. ¡°Yes, just a kidnapping¡ªwill put some excitement in her life.¡±


    ¡°What does she look like?¡± Njord had been hesitating a while, before he asked.


    What do you want her to look like?


    ¡°I heard this and that while investigating¡­ and I got a glimpse of her.¡± I didn¡¯t hurry to tell them, while they were so rapt with interest. ¡°She had long, curly, red hair. Light green eyes like new leaves. Lips as red as rowan, and a laugh like the song of birds.¡±


    ¡°You heard her laugh?¡± Birger asked with unreasonable suspicion.


    I retorted quickly. ¡°Women are always laughing! They¡¯re as bad as Erik!¡± Birger, and Erik of course, found this hilarious.


    ¡°She¡¯s beautiful, then?¡± Njord was definitely hooked.


    ¡°Her face was like the moon, gleaming white. And her shape¡­ well you can easily tell she¡¯s a woman, even from a distance.¡± I wove the spell, Njord transfixed.


    ¡°In fact¡­¡± I continued, dangerously, trying to stop myself but unable to resist: ¡°She looks just like your sister!¡±


    Njord awoke from his torpor, glaring at me. I tried to smile in a friendly-manner instead of mockingly¡­ then realized he probably can¡¯t tell the difference.


    ¡°That so¡­?¡± He grumbled the words, half a threat, half curiosity. His scowl faded, though, and he resumed the mooning gaze thinking of the princess.


    Maybe I just sweetened the deal?


    ¡°So I take it we¡¯re all interested in this other venture?¡± It was time to swoop down for the kill. ¡°Perhaps you¡¯d be willing to invest your shares for a wealthier return?¡±


    Birger drew his knife. ¡°I¡¯ll bleed with you under the bark of Yggdrasill again, if I have to.¡±


    I chortled encouragingly, recalling the details of the blood-brother ritual.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have my axe as well.¡± Erik nearly jumped up and down for attention. I nodded to him, and he practically glowed with satisfaction.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it more later.¡± Njord dismissed the matter¡­ but promised to reopen it.


    Good, that should keep him docile.

 Chapter 7: Working Together

    With the story of the princess fresh in their minds, they returned to our current venture.


    ¡°Birger, why isn¡¯t the ladder set up?¡± Njord looked to the two strings that ran up to the twig above; the messenger line Birger set up with an arrow, earlier.


    Come to think of it, it looked just like a sendl¨ªna. I felt a little stupid for not noticing that earlier, but it hardly mattered.


    ¡°I was waiting to show Crow how we do it.¡± Birger pointed to where Njord tossed me, at the edge of our little branch. ¡°Then you almost went and killed him.¡±


    Njord growled. ¡°You just wanted to listen to the gossip.¡±


    ¡°As if you didn¡¯t,¡± Birger mumbled. Before Njord could say, ¡®What was that?¡¯, Birger quickly added, ¡°Crow, come and get to work!¡±


    Njord looked paralysed, like a murderous bear restrained by politeness. He hung over us, waiting for an excuse to strike.


    Birger pointed to the string, and my mermaid knot. ¡°Now see, we have the string, the messenger line. It¡¯s attached to the little grapple hooked up there, on the higher twig.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just like a sendl¨ªna!¡± Erik chirped, eager to teach.


    ¡°That¡¯s obvious! Any sk¨ªtkarl with clouds for brains would know that at once!¡± Birger sneered.


    Smiling and nodding, I said a prayer: Hail Odinn! Look upon me with kind eyes, and send snakes after that Loki-worshipper!


    Birger untied my mermaid knot from the sprout. ¡°So this string, we tie one of the ends to the big grapple.¡± He did so, using a¡­ butterfly knot or something.


    Erik crowded in. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to tell him to keep it tight?¡±


    Birger looked like an agitated weasel. ¡°Yes! I¡¯m getting to that! Now Crow, tie the ladder to the grappling hook!¡±


    ¡°You already did that.¡± I pointed to that annoying, knotted, quarter-tumal rope which they dared to call a ladder. It was tied to the grappling hook.


    His face went as red as Njord¡¯s. ¡°I¡¯m just telling you the steps, Wolfling!¡± He threatened to throw the grappling hook at me. ¡°So after you would¡¯ve tied on the ladder by yourself¡­ we then need to reel it up the string¡ª¡±


    ¡°But tell him to keep it tight!¡± Erik reminded us, helpfully.


    ¡°May the trolls take you¡ªYES! I was going to tell him that! Crow, sit on the rope as you unwind it to keep it ti¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sit on the rope!?¡± Njord found his chance to strike. ¡°Have you been doing it that stupid way this whole time?¡±


    ¡°Well¡ªhow do you do it?¡± Birger looked similarly dangerous¡­.


    ¡°You wrap it around a smooth sprout of course, you sk¨ªtkarl.¡±


    ¡°Do you see any smooth sprouts!? They¡¯re all knotted and thorny around here.¡±


    ¡°Make one smooth then! It doesn¡¯t need to be like a woman¡¯s face, just give the bark a shave with your knife.¡±


    Erik was unusually silent, eyes nervously darting between them. Saying the wrong thing would lead to a stabbing.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with sitting on the rope?¡± I added, helpfully.


    Njord looked ready to explode. ¡°It¡¯s HEIMSKT! It¡¯s really, really heimskt!¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Birger matched his volatility. ¡°And what¡¯s so stupid about it, exactly!? I¡¯ve done it hundreds of times this way!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been doing it a heimsks way! What kind of kitchen-fool taught you to do it like that?¡±


    ¡°My father taught me to do it like this! And he wasn¡¯t a cursed norn-blood!¡±


    ¡°Was he a cursed Loki-thrall, like you¡­?¡±


    Erik spoke up. ¡°Let¡¯s see how it works. I¡¯m very interested to see how it works! Aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Glaring at him, Njord eventually nodded. ¡°Why not¡­? It¡¯ll be amusing.¡±


    Birger hissed like a mangy cat. ¡°It works just fine! No need to go to all the trouble of shaving sprouts¡­. Really, I¡¯m just holding up a grapple! By Loki¡¯s burning eyes!...¡±


    The crisis was averted¡­ for now.


    Birger sat on the coil of rope, the ¡®ladder¡¯. He pulled on the second end of the string that was not tied to the grappling hook. Pulling tight, the grapple lifted into the air like the head of a snake. It pointed at the high twig it was to be pulled up to, where the little grapple-arrow was hooked.


    Njord and Erik studied him sitting on the rope. ¡°How in Hel do you uncoil it?¡± Njord spoke for all of us.


    Then, by some magic, the rope slid out from under Birger, perfectly. As he wound up the string, coiling it around his hand: the rope-ladder was pulled up in a nearly perfectly straight diagonal line towards the upper twig. The rope came out from under him as fast as he wound the string, and it didn¡¯t sag at all!


    ¡°It¡¯s still stupid¡­.¡± Njord shook his head in defeat.


    ¡°How do you do that¡­?¡± Erik was stupefied¡ªbut that was normal.


    Birger lifted his head, proudly showing his ability to do it without watching. ¡°It¡¯s all in the knees.¡±


    It was the proudest moment of Birger¡¯s life.


    I noticed the grappling hook was moving towards a hanging bush. The string and probably the rope could get through it fine, but a grappling hook is made to get stuck on things.


    ¡°Watch out for the brush!¡± Njord warned, hoping it would get stuck deep in the brush.


    ¡°I see it.¡± Birger¡¯s speech lacked its usual sharpness; his voice as calm and smooth as the rope he was sitting on.


    Suddenly, with no discernible cause, the rope came out faster, causing it to sag slightly under the shrub. With a couple of shakes, the string came loose from the bush, too, sagging under it. He reeled the string in more, the grapple sailing underneath the briary-obstacle without a problem.


    ¡°...It¡¯s still stupid.¡± Njord muttered.


    ¡°That¡¯s amazing!¡± Erik covered his own mouth too late, shrinking under Njord¡¯s icy stare.


    ¡°Is this one of the gifts of Loki?¡± I asked.


    ¡°No.¡± Birger¡¯s calm began to roil as he recalled my presence.


    ¡°Maybe you should try sitting on snakes? They might obey you!¡±


    ¡°Shut up! Now watch the last part!¡±


    The grapple was at the high twig, its flat and smooth side pressing against it. He gave the rope a bit of slack, then held it in one hand and the string in the other.


    Birger paused. ¡°This is the tricky part¡­.¡± He didn¡¯t seem happy to have an audience, now.


    Tugging the string, he tried to get the grapple to go over the twig. Even though the grapple was upside down, the smooth, non-grabby side against the twig¡­ it wasn¡¯t working. The grapple was still getting stuck, even as Birger yanked on the string, refusing to climb over the twig.


    ¡°Out of the way.¡± Birger began swinging the rope left and right, using the extra slack to whip the grapple side to side. He tugged at the string more, getting the grapple part of the way up¡­ and then it got stuck on something we couldn¡¯t see. Birger tried again, looking frustrated. Any moment now he would flare up and blame the gods for his inadequacies.


    ¡°Oh well.¡± Birger withdrew the grappling hook, his expression unworried.


    What¡­? That doesn¡¯t fit him.


    He twisted the rope until the grapple flipped, so the grabbing side was down. Then, he let some of the string in his hand uncoil¡­ and let the grappling hook fall from the high twig. It fell until the rope hit another twig about 10 yards beneath it. The rope wrapped around this lower twig, almost perfectly¡ªthe grapple genuinely spun around it, then latched onto the far side!


    Njord didn¡¯t say anything. Erik was his annoying self¡­ but not as much as a pleased Birger.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you know we can do that?¡± Birger had the most stabbable face I had ever seen.


    ¡°Of course I knew.¡± I didn¡¯t lie. I just thought he was too stupid to think of it. ¡°But why did you bother with the upper twig?¡±


    ¡°Would¡¯ve saved some climbing if it caught hold up there¡­ but it¡¯s all part of the same thicket, so we¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Njord pressed in close. ¡°You better start learning fast, Crow.¡±


    I nodded sagely. ¡°Will you start sitting on ropes now, Njord?¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡±

 Chapter 8: Up and Down

    We climbed up Birger¡¯s new ladder, one at a time. Birger went first, a strange act of integrity from a worshiper of the Trickster. He looked a bit worried, staring where the grapple was meant to be secure.


    ¡°Everything all right!?¡± I shouted.


    ¡°YES! Just¡­ wait a minute!¡± He disappeared from sight. I could just barely hear the hammering of pitons, over the wind. ¡°It¡¯s safe! Come on up!¡±


    I never felt more endangered in my life.


    Birger having ¡®proven¡¯ it was safe: I and Njord followed. Once we were up, Erik, who we left behind, had the job of untying the bottom of the rope ladder.


    Birger produced that heimsks dwarf-toy, the bite-pulley, securing it to the twig with a piton. Looking past him, I saw the grapple, nailed to the twig with pitons. From there, I searched around a bit for where the grapple was originally hooked. I saw a little sprout sapling¡ªbig enough that it might just barely hold the weight of a man before suddenly snapping. It had grapple marks on it.


    Leaning against the sapling, I grinned at Birger, waiting for him to notice.


    He looked up, in confusion for just a moment... then in faux innocence. ¡°What is it?¡± His eyes darted between me and the sapling.


    I didn¡¯t say anything.


    ¡°...Shut up!¡± Birger stood up and looked to Erik, waving a fist to indicate the rope was ready. Waving back, Erik tied his end of the rope to his klifrigg. The ladder could now be pulled through the pulley with no chance of it slipping back down and Erik plummeting to his death.


    Pity.


    I wondered if they¡¯d bother with all this for me. Likely they would¡­ for the sake of the princess. Otherwise, they¡¯d just tell me to climb the ladder as it swung freely in the wind, laughing as I went.


    We began to haul Erik up to the chant of, ¡°Heave!... Heave!... Heave!¡­¡± pulling the rope up hand over hand and letting it furl behind us. The rope slipped through the pulley with remarkable ease.


    Pulling like this, about two feet of rope every second, Njord and Birger started to visibly tire after two hundred feet. So... they simply leaned back to rest, leaving the bite pulley to do its work keeping the rope in place. It was easy to tell how much we¡¯d pulled in, as every ten yards was marked with red dye.


    ¡°Erik, what¡¯s taking you so long?¡± Njord called as we prepared to start pulling the rope again.


    A stupid blonde face appeared. ¡°Have some patience, would you? The view was incredible from down there.¡± Erik clambered over the side, up onto the twig.


    Since I was at the back, I hadn¡¯t really noticed the pulls and tugs of Erik ascending the rope as we reeled him in.


    So, he¡¯s a quick climber? That¡¯s why he and Njord caught up with me so quickly, before.


    I grimaced. I was still the better climber¡­ but I would watch the idiot carefully.


    With Erik secured, we gathered all the ropes and supplies and started moving trunkwards. As we were at the bottom of this new thicket, this meant going uphill. We soon walked on larger twigs and thicker branchlings.


    ¡°That¡¯s high enough.¡± Njord looked down to the thicket below. ¡°We¡¯ll start lowering the lines.¡±


    ¡°We came all this way up¡­ only to go down again.¡± I griped with zest. They¡¯d been trying to ignore me for a while¡ªso I was determined to get someone to react (other than Erik).


    ¡°Would you prefer to have climbed up all those twigs carrying twice your own weight¡­?¡± Njord had a hint of dread in his voice, wondering what I would say or do.


    ¡°We could¡¯ve just pulled them up after us, as we went.¡±


    ¡°And swung all those packs across gaps? And slowed ourselves down so ¨¢lfar might spot us? Some of those twigs we climbed would have broken if we put that much gear on them, so then we¡¯d have to move it piece by piece. Are you a complete fool? Isn¡¯t this obvious?¡±


    ¡°It is; I just like the sound of your voice.¡±


    Njord wanted to strangle me. I could tell because his hands were shaking¡­ around my neck. He didn¡¯t squeeze, though¡ªthe image of the princess I promised kept him at bay.


    ¡°Crow¡­ let¡¯s have a talk.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°I love talking!¡±


    ¡°I noticed! But¡­ you know¡­.¡± He took his hands off my neck.


    That¡¯s a good sign.


    Njord stepped closer, his voice much calmer than his balled fists. ¡°We¡¯re blood brothers, part of the same f¨®stbr?eralagi. We bled together and swore an oath to avenge each other if we died, yes?¡±


    ¡°Oh, did we? I¡¯d almost forgotten¡­. Good thing you reminded me!¡±


    He placed a hand on my shoulder, gripping it with something stronger than brotherly love. ¡°If you don¡¯t start being serious¡­ right now: I¡¯ll kill you.¡±


    I was about to say that wasn¡¯t a very blood-brotherly thing to do¡­ but then I realized there¡¯d be a lot of Crow¡¯s blood involved. ¡°I¡¯m deadly serious.¡± I said.


    ¡°You better be¡­. I may not be the most pious man, but we cut a strip from Yggdrasill¡¯s living bark together. You and I and Birger and Stonebear¡ªall nine of us. We made it into a living arch held up by a spear, both ends still part of the tree. You walked through it like returning to the womb and being born again. We cut ourselves, and spoke an oath as we walked under the arch, our blood mixing together on Yggdrasill¡¯s bare cambium. Oaths are serious matters¡­ and we did all this just for you joining, remember.¡±


    ¡°You threw me, before. Were you serious about killing your foster-brother, then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying not to be.¡± The anger in his voice made it sound like he was trying very hard. ¡°I¡¯m asking you not to make that difficult¡­. You wanted to get a rise, and you got one. What¡¯s there to complain of? And you should remember, I can make your life very hard, even without killing you.¡±


    Why is he saying this?


    Studying him¡­ there were no obvious signs of falsehood. Had I just made him desperate to shut me up¡­? Or¡­


    Oh Yggdrasill above and below¡­. Was he trying to be friends?


    Scarcely had I contemplated such indignities. But it did seem this lecture was his way of forming a rapport. Not a bad idea, either, leaning on the oaths tappers swear to slightly reduce the amount of backstabbing among them. More importantly¡­ I lost nothing by becoming his friend.


    ¡°There are few things I love more than wit.¡± I admitted, trying to smile in a friendly manner, and not mockingly. He still couldn¡¯t tell the difference. ¡°As you say, I enjoyed getting a rise and I have nothing to complain of¡­ do you?¡±


    Njord paused, assessing if I was trapping him in some way. ¡°If things go well from now¡­ it¡¯s all fallen leaves. Forgotten.¡±


    He grinned as if struggling not to bite me.


    ¡°We won¡¯t forget about the princess though, I hope?¡±


    ¡°Believe me, Crow¡­ it¡¯s very much on my mind at this moment.¡±


    My smile lit up like a drawn dagger. I would have no problems from him.


    ¡°Stop grinning at me. Come on, we need to lower the lines.¡± Njord went to the heavy pack he¡¯d carried all this way. It was filled with a massive coil of thin, quarter-tumal knotted rope.


    I groaned. ¡°Why do we use this spindly thread as climbing rope?


    ¡°Would you prefer to carry half your weight in rope? Half-tumal-rope is four times as heavy. This cord is light, and that¡¯s good enough.¡± He pulled out a coil that was particularly interesting, as it was equipped with rope stigreipar. These were stirrups or steps, loops of cord tied onto the climbing rope at regular intervals. Climbing would be a lot easier with those to grab and step into.


    ¡°Those look nice. Is that why Birger doesn¡¯t use them?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll curse them to Hel when they get caught on sprouts and brush. I thought upper treemen were knot-climbers like Birger?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I used to climb strings thinner than that without stigreipar with my arms behind my back.¡±


    ¡°Really¡­? I¡¯d love to see you do that.¡±


    ¡°Maybe later. I¡¯m a touch out of practice.¡±


    ¡°Touched in the head, more like. Here, take this.¡± He handed me a bundle of string, with a lead weight. ¡°Toss this over the side. Find a good place for the first line.¡±


    I felt a temptation to toss the whole bundle of string. But considering our new friendship¡­ I dropped the weight on the end of the string. The weight was only about a pound, but good enough to keep it steady in the wind. Of course, we had moved closer to the trunk, where the thickets around us reduced the wind. Lowering it till it hit a large twig below, I took the measure.


    ¡°It¡¯s about 170 yards. How many yards of rope do we have?¡±


    ¡°Oh, some one and a half miles.¡± He spoke with a casualness that boasted loudly. So I was very annoyed that I was genuinely impressed. ¡°Enough rope to stretch from here to Bl¨¢byr above us, where Ragnhild and Vidar went.¡± Concern overshadowed his gloating, thinking of what mischief his sister might get up to there.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lot!¡± I calculated it as about three of our packs filled with nothing but rope.


    He nodded sagely. ¡°It weighs about as much as Ragnhild, too.¡±


    ¡°Do you think Vidar has found that out, yet?¡±


    His eyes widened with intent to kill¡­ and he had a lot of rope to hang me with.


    ¡°You stupid¡ªrhghfraa!¡± His words became incoherent as he clawed out to grab me, crawling after me for several body lengths.


    ¡°Remember the princess!¡± My words were as rapid as my feet.


    His incoherence was far more frightening than any oath or insult¡­. So I should probably stop laughing¡ªI don¡¯t think that¡¯s helping.

 Chapter 9: The Spire

    After Njord got tired from chasing me, we continued our descent. Zigzagging our way down, from branchling to branchling, twig to twig, we travelled a mile down the tree. We found the best places to lay down lines and slide down; secluded clearings in the thicket where prying eyes wouldn¡¯t spot us. Sometimes we¡¯d lay down two lines, from two clearings on the same level. This way, if the ¨¢lfar found one of our lines and waited in ambush¡­ we had another one we could try to escape up. They would also find any trail we left between our lines, following us all the way back to camp if we weren¡¯t careful. So we made sure not to break any sprouts or bark and avoided cutting anything.


    Despite our zigzagging, our descent was much faster than weaving our way up through the thicket, looking for suitable ways to ascend. In about half the time it took to climb up, we had laid lines all the way back to the level of the camp. Sliding down the last line, it was a short walk finding our way back to camp.


    Like good furniture, Stonebear was sitting exactly where we left him hours ago, on the same fallen twig. Two scruffy Norsemen sat with him, playing dice.


    Stonebear regarded us like long-lost relatives he hoped to never meet. His pipe was clearly empty¡­ but still he tapped it persistently while giving us a stoney gaze. ¡°What took you idiots so long?¡±


    ¡°They tried to kill me. But we¡¯re friends now.¡± My ability to summarize is unmatched.


    ¡°Shut up! It was just a joke.¡± Birger considered finishing the job. Njord glowered silently.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t try to kill you.¡± Erik objected to being that interesting.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t try to stop them, either.¡±


    ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t entirely disagree with them.¡± He shrugged, grinning.


    Was that his usual dopey, baseline expression¡­ or did he manage to tell a joke? And if so¡­ why wasn¡¯t he laughing?


    Stonebear pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Well, you all came back in one piece¡­ so let¡¯s grab our gear and move it up to the new camp.¡± He coalesced with Njord. ¡°You found a good site?¡±


    Njord nodded.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    Some people just talk and talk. Sadly, Stonebear is not one of them.


    Then we moved up to the new camp¡­ and it was very boring. All we did was climb up the flimsy little knotted quarter-tumal lines, then towed up a heavier, full-tumal-thick cable. Securing the cable and setting up a crank, Njord and Birger and the other meaty Norsemen hoisted up our supplies and our lazier members. Like me and Stonebear.


    He kept thinking of all kinds of things for me to do that were far away¡­ but I always managed to do them quickly and come right back, needing his sage advice. After all, I¡¯m the new-blood.


    It was all so boring that I whittled myself a spear in my spare moments¡­ casting it at the annoying, knife-wielding squirrels. They almost made this part of the story interesting.


    ¡°Crow! Stop playing with squirrels!¡± Birger was setting up his silk hammock, using a man-sized leaf as an umbrella and furs for his blankets. Apparently he spent his earnings on more than just runes and heretical symbols. He didn¡¯t need much shelter from the elements, of course, even as it stormed and thundered around us: The tappers had picked a spot deep in the thicket, where the wind was a gentle hum and barely a raindrop reached us. The leaf umbrella was just to catch stray drips, to protect his expensive bedding.


    There was quite a waterfall, though, on the other side of the clearing. It roared down a hole in the canopy, leaves and twigs floating along and plunging down with it. It destroyed all in its path with the rage of Njord. By which I mean the sea god; not the norn-blooded Njord whom I was currently hiding from.


    Eventually, dawn came, and the total darkness turned into near-darkness. Dapples of sunlight shone like blinding gold; shimmering and flashing as the leaves rustled in the unceasing wind.


    ¡°Morning Njord!¡± I leapt up to a twig, just out of his reach. ¡°Were you dreaming about your princess? Or about throwing me off the tree?¡±


    He studied the twig, gauging if it was worth climbing up after me. ¡°I can throw you off while I¡¯m awake.¡±


    ¡°If you do, that princess will remain in your dreams.¡±


    He chuckled, his teeth looking sharper with his smile. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, Crow¡­ I told you before: I can make your life hard without killing you.¡±


    I don¡¯t have big ears. Yet, for some reason, Njord still mistook me for a pack mule.


    ¡°Sorry, Crow!¡± he said, while shoving me into a briar patch.


    I almost forgot to squeal in pain as I righted myself. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it¡­ I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll make the same mistake one day.¡±


    Birger guffawed. ¡°You¡¯ll have to catch up with us first, Wolfling.¡±


    ¡°I can help if you like, Crow.¡± Erik appeared where he was least wanted, which was anywhere.


    ¡°No need, the briars are helping me plenty already.¡± Snapping a few briars and plucking out the spines, I was as good as¡­ Crow.


    Erik grimaced as he watched me pull out a particularly deep one. ¡°Glad you¡¯re handling it all so well¡­.¡± He winced as I pulled out another. ¡°Maybe try not to anger Njord.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Do you really think it¡¯s possible to avoid enraging Njord¡­?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say it¡¯s possible, I just said stop trying to do it!¡± Moving to catch up with the others, walking along the branch, he stopped. Then he craned his neck, slowly looking up with a glazed expression. ¡°Would you look at that beauty?¡±


    I looked up. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you... you obviously see it¡ªthe branch!¡±


    Looking again I saw the majesty of¡­ a big branch. I¡¯m not sure what else you want me to say about it. VERY big branch. A ¡®Spire Branch¡¯.


    It stood ahead of us, bursting up through a thicket like its own tree, a mini Yggdrasill. It pointed almost straight-up, making it a ¡®Spire Branch¡¯. You couldn¡¯t really see the bottom of it where it branched off from its bough. But, if you tried to walk around the base of it on the bough, it¡¯d take you five minutes. I bet you wish your house was that big.


    We approached it by hopping from one branchling to another, twig to twig, until it loomed over us like Aurgelmir. I reckoned it was about a half bowshot from one side to the other, some hundred yards. And if you tried to count all the birds in all the fine places to nest on it, you¡¯d die of old age.


    Stonebear was also looking up at the branch, studying it as it broke through the thickets and canopies like a spear deep in a wound.


    ¡°Stonebear, my favourite dwarf!¡± I said, causing him to shudder.


    ¡°I thought Torsten was your ¡®favourite¡¯¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yes, well¡­ don¡¯t tell him I said that¡ªhe¡¯ll get jealous.¡±


    He took a deep huff of his pipe, then chuckled¡­ no, choked, he was choking. ¡°Odinn grant me strength¡­ you¡¯re like four newcomers squashed into one annoyance.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean I try four times as hard?¡±


    ¡°I want you to try me less.¡± He looked at my many packs, and some of the thorns I was too lazy to take out. ¡°How many packs do you have?¡±


    ¡°All the ones Njord could find.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said you became friends¡­?¡±


    ¡°I also said he tried to kill me. We¡¯re making progress!¡±


    He snorted, choking more¡ªwait¡­ was that laughing? Is laughter painful to dwarves?


    ¡°Well¡­ good job, Crow. I¡¯ll tell him to stop trying to break your back.¡± He looked up to the branch again, puffing the opium in his pipe.


    ¡°Are we going to climb it?¡± The branch was a sheer wall of wood, spotted with sprouts, sub-branches and twigs. It looked like a vertical forest, shaded by its countless leaves. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we keep climbing crosslimb, in the safety of the thickets?¡±


    Stonebear gestured with his pipe. ¡°We¡¯ll be safe enough. Look, it¡¯s surrounded by thickets, and there¡¯s plenty of leaf-cover as we go up. They won¡¯t see us. And it breaks through so many levels, it¡¯ll save us a lot of time.¡±


    Birger sneered. ¡°Of course you¡¯re fine with it¡­ your aged limbs don¡¯t have to do the climbing to get to my sweet Ragnhild.¡±


    Stonebear¡¯s beard bristled in agitation. ¡°Your Ragnhild¡­? Why wasn¡¯t I invited to the wedding?¡±


    Birger crossed his arms. ¡°Njord already promised her to me.¡±


    ¡°Did he?¡± Stonebear was stone-faced¡­ but his hand clasped his pipe very tightly.


    Birger shrugged. ¡°What did you expect? Old men are fit for the coffin, not the marriage bed. Or were you hoping to buy an apple of Ieunn to give you some help on your wedding day? Bring some life to those shrivelled loins?¡±


    I stepped forward, a hand slipping to my dagger, expecting I may get the order to cancel a wedding. Birger kept his arms crossed, leaving his neck unguarded.


    Stonebear rudely shoved me aside. The old dwarf stepped forward, coming close to Birger. Hand on dagger, I got ready to throw it into Birger¡¯s tattooed neck, which was a fair distance above Stonebear¡¯s head¡ªif he so much as lifted a finger to hurt Stonebear.


    Taking his pipe in his left hand, his right on his belt near his axe, the dwarf shook his pipe at Birger. ¡°One more word like that¡­ and you will be the bride at your wedding, Loki-thrall.¡±


    Birger hissed, his tattoos a deep scowl in the early morning sun. ¡°Let¡¯s say no more on Ragnhild, then.¡±


    Stonebear looked ready to stab him with the pipe. He nodded. ¡°Go and start the first leg of the climb, and don¡¯t cause any more trouble¡ªor you¡¯ll regret it.¡±


    ¡°Fine¡­ I don¡¯t mind hard work.¡± Birger strode away. He whispered as he passed me, ¡°don¡¯t forget the princess.¡±


    Was all this¡­ because he had a new job lined up? I croaked with laughter, sidling up to Stonebear.


    ¡°Was he always this good-natured?¡±


    ¡°Tegi t¨².¡± He glared at Birger¡¯s back, right between his shoulder blades.


    I waited, standing there silently with Stonebear for several minutes; making no sound except to indicate I was still here, standing with him.


    ¡­And the stone cracked.


    ¡°You made him worse.¡± There was a touch of sullenness in his gravelly tone. ¡°Ever since Ragnhild started mooning over you¡­ he¡¯s been like a mad dog.¡± His resentment towards me was a hollowed shell, now that Birger had tipped his hand.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m the reason he¡¯s so angry.¡± There was no response. ¡°I mean, wouldn¡¯t you be annoyed if your betrothed was fawning over your chieftain?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about¡­ Birger tried to kill you, remember? Twice!¡± The dwarf turned on me fully, pointing to my dagger. ¡°If you¡¯d drawn that, it¡¯d be the third and last time.¡±


    Why did no one ever take me seriously? It¡¯s not my fault I¡¯m funny.


    ¡°He is angry, and he takes that out on me¡­.¡± I spoke as if baiting a trap. ¡°But it¡¯s not your fault Ragnhild is all over you.¡±


    ¡°...She is?¡± He blinked rapidly, the most expression a dwarven face is capable of.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t she call you her protector? And refuse to let go of you until she kissed you some five times, before she left?¡±


    ¡°That girl just likes to play games¡­¡± Stonebear broke eye-contact, turning away from fantasy to the cold, hard ground.


    ¡°Come now, Stonebear¡­ all you have to do is talk it over with Njord¡ªand things will resolve themselves.¡±


    Stonebear¡¯s pipe was empty, but still he tapped it endlessly. ¡°Perhaps so.¡± He nodded, looking at my bags on the ground. ¡°Go put your bags somewhere¡­ the others can carry them.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind carrying them, if you want me to.¡±


    He regarded me closely. ¡°...No. You¡¯ve earned a rest.¡±


    I had indeed. ¡°If that¡¯s your order, I¡¯ll sleep like the dead.¡±


    But more than that: I had earned a valuable friend. And he would be very useful.

 Chapter 10: Fie!

    There are two ways to climb Yggdrasill: Bark-climbing, and crosslimb. There¡¯s also flying, but this group wasn¡¯t smart enough to be born with wings. Crosslimb we did already: leaping and climbing between twigs as we crisscrossed our way up the thickets, shooting grappling hooks to other branches. It¡¯s a complex game, working out a path in a maze of countless, obfuscating twigs. Bark-climbing, meanwhile, is as simple as falling to your death.


    ¡°Hurry up, Crow! Pull out those pitons!¡± Njord was standing on the twig above me. He adjusted the belay cord as I climbed, shortening it so I wouldn¡¯t fall far if I did.


    As to what I was doing, down here: Have you ever struggled to get a nail out, and bent it? Well, have you tried to get a wooden nail out of a tree without breaking it?


    ¡°Were you trying to kill the branch?¡± I called back. This was a joke, as it would take Thor himself to kill the immense Spire-Branch we were scaling. It was like a child of Yggdrasill, a mighty tree in its own right.


    Into this god-tree, Njord had hammered in the wooden pitons as if they owed him money.


    Clamping the piton with vice-grip pliers, I screwed the vice on tight¡­ then used a crowbar to try and lift it. It popped out like a cork, slipping out of my grip with my pliers.


    ¡°Better they¡¯re in too tight than too loose!¡± Njord excused his incompetence. ¡°And don¡¯t drop them!¡±


    ¡°I got it,¡± I said. Or rather, the vice-grip pliers were tied to my klifrigg, so I just pulled those up; the wooden rivet tightly clamped in its jaws. ¡­Except, the piton was cracked. I threw it at Njord.


    ¡°Do that again, and I¡¯ll drop you!¡± Njord pulled hard on my belay¡­ but I just used the force to leap to the next piton above me.


    ¡°There¡¯s no use having wooden ones if you¡¯re a tr?ll with ox-horns who needs to hit things hard.¡± I was quite aware oxen are castrated, with that choice of words. Njord¡¯s red face showed he was as well.


    ¡°Troll, am I?¡± Or maybe he didn¡¯t? Was he acknowledging the accuracy of my second insult?


    He started yanking on my belay cord, making me bounce all over the place.


    ¡°Wheeee!¡± It was very fun. ¡°Why did you stop?¡±


    ¡°Come up here so I can kill you!¡± Njord demanded.


    ¡°Let me finish removing the pins, first.¡± For this one, I first took my climbing hammer and chisel and chipped away at the tree around the piton. After a long, boring minute¡­ I had the piton, intact. ¡°I think I could whittle new ones faster than I can extract your mess.¡±


    ¡°If you keep talking, I¡¯ll cut this rope¡ªprincess or not!¡± Despite his threats and bouncing before, the rest of the time he was meticulous in maintaining the anchor line: never pulling it too short and tugging me or hurrying me, nor letting it be slack. This wasn¡¯t out of kindness, but a well-trained habit.


    ¡°I can climb without a belay.¡± I grabbed on for dear life, stabbing my boots in fast.


    ¡°Just get the pegs!¡±


    Hooking to the last piton I would extract, I began the tedious chore. While Njord had the end of my lifeline, you can still take part of the middle to hook onto things, giving you multiple anchor-points lest you fall. Working at the pitons, eventually I had them all including that last one; leaving my safety entirely in Njord¡¯s gentle hands.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe tappers use wooden pitons. This is what the poorest karls use, like your parents.¡± I climbed towards the twig with Njord¡­ but he didn¡¯t look too friendly, so I decided to climb up, up, and away, bypassing his twig by a wide margin.


    ¡°Get back here! We have more work to do!¡± He tried to yank my belay¡­ then realized I unhitched it already. ¡°You galinn skiptingr, you mad changeling!¡± he scoffed, holding the belay cord in disbelief, as if he could still pull me in.


    Sticking my spiked boots deep into the bark, I turned to him and shrugged with two hands. ¡°It¡¯s not that hard.¡±


    He sighed contemptuously. ¡°One day, you¡¯ll wind up dead¡­ and I¡¯ll be sad I didn¡¯t kill you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d be your loss¡ªlike these broken pitons.¡±


    ¡°Stop being so impatient! You have to hammer them in well and take your time getting them out.¡±


    ¡°I can climb pretty well without them. And if you¡¯re going to be that rough with them, we should just get iron ones. We reuse them anyway, so we don¡¯t need more than a hundred¡ªeven for escaping at the end.¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Wooden pegs are lighter¡­ it all adds up if you add a little weight here and there until you suddenly have too much. So the ¨¢lfar find you and kill you.¡±


    ¡°Now that you¡¯ve explained it, I¡¯m glad we¡¯re wasting all this time out in the open¡­.¡±


    ¡°You better climb back to the others before I get my bow! I¡¯ll get the other pitons myself, since it¡¯s too hard for you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d deprive me of drudgery?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll stick an arrow in you, just you wait!¡±


    He was going to get his bow¡­ good thing I misplaced it earlier. I decided to climb away, all the same, lest he find something to throw.


    Climbing up to a higher twig, I found the others crowded onto it; though they gave Stonebear plenty of elbow room. This twig was only about the size of a tree, not large enough for us and our packs to sit on. So, we hung the packs from it on ropes.


    ¡°You got the pitons already?¡± Erik asked, bouncing in his net-hammock. There was so little space on the twig, in fact, we set up some anchors and hung some of our gear and hammocks from them to sit on. The anchors, in this case, rather than bolts or the many other options, were large pitons nailed deep into the Spire-Branch. Each piton was more than enough to hold up Erik, really, but somehow he was still worth three of them, for contingency.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to see if I can whittle one faster than extracting Njord¡¯s mauled pitons.¡± I cut off a thick sprout, then sat on the hammock with Erik, tolerating his presence as my knife whittled away.


    ¡°Oh, having some trouble with them, are you?¡± Erik laughed, as always. If I walked up to him, kissed him, and said I had a deadly disease and just gave it to him¡­ well, I think most people would laugh if you did that, actually. Try it, find out.


    ¡°Unfortunately, I was born with hands instead of a beak.¡± I already had a decent shape for a piton.


    ¡°You sure this hammock will hold up both of us?¡± Erik was uncharacteristically nervous. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I hammered them in deep enough¡­ sometimes the bark frays and they slip out.¡±


    ¡°Go put some more anchors up, if you¡¯re such a coward. But you can take them out.¡± Having finished my rough piton, Erik gaping as I examined it from one side to the other, I decided to show Stonebear. I tied a new belay from my klifrigg to one of Erik¡¯s anchors, using a quick-release knot. Then, making sure to give no forewarning, I leapt off the hammock. Erik bounced in it, not quite falling off.


    ¡°Careful!¡± He called out between peals of laughter. We got along as far as we both found it funny when I tried to kill him. Though his belay would¡¯ve saved him¡­.


    The Spire-Branch was like a great wooden wall. So, after leaping, I swung from the anchor using my belay and ran along that wall, landing on the twig where the others were. Asotall and Gunne, Stonebear¡¯s lackeys, failed to suppress their oohs and ahs. Stonebear watched my run, his face stoney and unchanging¡­ until he realized his match was burning his fingers.


    ¡°Fie!¡± Stonebear sucked his thumb. ¡°Good trick¡­ never seen someone do that on a slope like this.¡± The great branch leaned towards us by about ten degrees, overshadowing us slightly. So it was indeed quite a trick to run on it.


    ¡°What do you want, Crow?¡± Asotall¡¯s moustache asked me. I have never seen his mouth, and am not convinced he has one.


    ¡°Nothing that concerns you, Axrotalus.¡± His actual name was ¡®Axrotalus the Vallandi¡¯, which I said with all the throaty accent I could muster. We called him Asotall, since his name is weird.


    His eyes lit up as I spoke. I could see this, because he raised his bushy eyebrows. He had eyes, at least.


    He spoke to me in Vallandska, his language. ¡°Avez vos tast¨¦ le vin de Bordele?¡±


    ¡°Oh! Yes¡­ yes.¡± I said, nodding wisely with a broad, confident smile. Gunne looked between us, wondering what was said.


    Asotall¡¯s moustache frowned. ¡°Your accent is good, so I wondered if you spoke my tongue.¡± So he does have a tongue?


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± He pointed to the piton, which I was carving at again.


    ¡°Oh, just something I carved in a spare moment.¡± I held up the piton to Stonebear. ¡°Instead of wasting time reclaiming this... why don¡¯t we just make new ones?¡±


    Stonebear picked up the piton, examining it. ¡°How long did it take you¡­?¡±


    ¡°Five minutes, perhaps? I could make a bunch with idle time, if left to my devices.¡± Imagine what mischief I could get up to with more free time.


    He weighed it in his hand, then measured it carefully against his thumb. ¡°We have to reclaim them anyway, or the cursed ¨¢lfar might find them.¡±


    ¡°We could just saw them off, so they¡¯re flush with the bark.¡±


    He paused, becoming a wrinkled statue. ¡°Did you make a living whittling pitons?¡±


    ¡°Anything to survive, in the upper reaches¡­ but where¡¯s Birger?¡±


    Stonebear gave me back the piton, adding opium to his pipe in a hurry. ¡°I sent that f¨ªfl ahead, to prepare the next leg.¡±


    ¡°By himself?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you count? By himself.¡±


    ¡°Would be a pity to leave that sour snake all alone. I¡¯ll go up and assist him.¡±


    ¡°Stay here. I need you well rested. Birger will be fine¡ªhe likes hard work.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m rested enough as it is! I¡¯ll put in as many pitons as you want if that dumb ox Njord is the one to pull them out.¡±


    ¡°Where do you get all this energy¡­?¡±


    ¡°Where did you lose all yours? The sun is shining and so is Crow. I¡¯m not an old man yet.¡±


    Stone bear glared at me¡­ until his match burnt his fingers. ¡°Fie!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s twice, now. You should stop doing that.¡±


    ¡°Go and help Birger! Get out of my beard for a while.¡±


    ¡°Will do! Thanks, Stonebear!¡±


    Chipper as ever, I turned from a grumbling Stonebear¡­ and thought about what to do with Birger.

 Chapter 11: Changeling

    I ran up the Spire-Branch a few steps before grabbing onto its bark.


    ¡°Stop showing off!¡± Asotall''s moustache and eyebrows scowled at me, forming two bushy arches.


    Ignoring him, I clambered my way to the next rest-point: A sprout barely fit for one man. From there, I pulled on my release-string, which was connected to the quick-release knot I had tied earlier¡ªpulling the part that makes it slip. Thus untied, I could pull in the rope, and tie it to a new anchor. In this case, I used the sprout I was standing on as an anchor. Or I suppose it was a twigling, seeing as it didn¡¯t break under me.


    Climbing further, I zigzagged between the rest points we had set up. Soon, I could hear a tap-tapping up ahead. Looking back, I saw the others were out of sight, hidden by various sprouts and shrubbery that sprang from the branch and the surrounding thickets. Moving slowly, I soon found Birger, hammering and cursing Stonebear under his breath.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Birger looked down, a throwing knife in one of his hands.


    ¡°Your best friend!¡± I popped out from under a shrub.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look like Njord.¡±


    ¡°Thanks!¡±


    Birger cackled. ¡°Stonebear sent you to help, did he?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but only because I called him old and stupid.¡±


    Birger made a sound¡­ I think it was a laugh, but I¡¯d describe it as more of a ¡®demonic gurgle¡¯. ¡°And here I was worried you were Stonebear¡¯s soreinn.¡±


    I shared a threatening grin. ¡°I¡¯ll go to quite some lengths for a pat on the head¡­ so you should be careful.¡± I bet I could make that gurgling sound.


    ¡°Be careful yourself¡­ I don¡¯t need that job with the princess.¡±


    He said, having insulted Stonebear, and now needing that job.


    ¡°But if you¡¯re here to help, go up ahead¡ªI need to rest my limbs.¡±


    He moved closer¡­ and then veered off, descending to a little netted hammock anchored to a tiny sprout and a strong looking screw.


    ¡°Why the screw?¡± I was very sure I could make that sound.


    ¡°For hauling our supplies, of course.¡± He rubbed his arms and hands, stretching. ¡°There aren¡¯t any good twigs around here, so I screwed in an anchor. When we start hauling, this will keep them going straight, so they don¡¯t veer off into the brush.¡± I got out a whetstone to resharpen his climbing spikes.


    I gurgled at him.


    His eyes widened. ¡°What from Hel was that!?¡±


    ¡°The sound you made.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way I made a sound like that¡­¡±


    ¡°You did, just before¡ªwhen I said Stonebear was an ugly old man with short legs.¡±


    Birger gurgled demonically. ¡°You didn¡¯t say that.¡±


    ¡°See, you made the sound again!¡±


    ¡°That was different¨C¡±


    I gurgled at him again. ¡°No it isn¡¯t. I got it exactly right.¡±


    He looked at me¡­ and just kept looking. I am very nice to look at.


    ¡°Are you a skiptingr¡­? A changeling?¡± He asked me slowly, his voice lower despite the distance. ¡°Was your father an ¨¢lfr? Do you have magic!?¡±


    ¡°First you call me soreinn and now a seiemaer, a sorcerer?¡± I ought to scare him with the sound again.


    He held up a hand, looking down the trail beneath us, into the bushes. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to insult you¡­.¡± It was uncanny how much his voice had changed. Was this his real voice, and the other put on to be more raspy and snake-like to frighten people? ¡°I¡¯ve known a skiptingr before¡ªand he was different. I don¡¯t know if he was replaced by the ¨¢lfar with another child, or if they just did something to him. But, while most don¡¯t think anything beyond them being weird idiots, disappointing kitchen-fools who they like to throw rocks at and call cursed by the gods¡­ I¡¯ve seen the incredible things they can do. The¡­ boy I knew¡­ he was so stupid he couldn¡¯t say more than two words¡ªbut when he picked up a knife for the first time? He made a sculpture of wood, worthy of a master craftsman!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m told I speak too many words,¡± I said. Birger was also speaking a few too many¡­.


    ¡°Not saying you¡¯re stupid¡­ I know better now: You¡¯re cunning, you have plans for this group.¡±


    I stopped at those words, just for a moment. Suppressing the urge to laugh, I jerked my head in shock. Gasping, I looked left and right, as if wondering if anyone heard. I put my hand on my knife.


    ¡°Wait! Wait!¡± Birger said. ¡°I¡¯m not against it¡­ I just thought, well: If you¡¯re going to steal the sap¡ªI can help you.¡±


    I paused for a good long¡­ four seconds. Slowly, I removed my hand from the knife. ¡°Continue.¡± Maintaining long, stern eye-contact, I tried my best to give the impression I could kill him with a spell if I didn¡¯t like what I heard.


    His chuckle was part nervous, part delight. ¡°I can tell you¡¯re not just a boy¡­ least, not an ordinary wolfling. You¡¯re all over the place and you can do everything. You hang over Stonebear¡¯s shoulder and question what we¡¯re doing; even how many pitons we have.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m also making my own.¡± I beamed dangerously with the brightness of a shared secret.


    ¡°And¡­ what are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°What do you think? Get some time aside with an excuse, and set up some ziplines. Then, just before we leave with the kegs of sap, there¡¯ll be a distraction¡ªI¡¯ll go down the zipline while they¡¯re distracted, with the kegs. Then cut the line so they can¡¯t follow. After that, hide the kegs about a half-mile down the tree.¡±


    Birger was enraptured. ¡°You really plan to do that!?¡±


    ¡°Too much chaos for the Loki-thrall to handle?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no!¡± He let the ¡®thrall¡¯ comment pass by him, not even noticing. ¡°But¡­¡± He glanced down as if he could see the others. ¡°You can¡¯t do that alone, can you?¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Why do you think your heart is still beating¡­?¡± I pointed at his heart. He grabbed for his taufr of Loki¡­ but remembered I had discarded it.


    ¡°Can¡¯t have you too protected now, can I?¡±


    His eyes widened. ¡°So you did throw it away.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Trickster magic is particularly troublesome. But let¡¯s get to the point¡­ are you in?¡±


    ¡°Stonebear can go to Hel! I¡¯m sick of those filthy, money-grubbing dvergar giving us one percent to split amongst ourselves. You just tell me you have a buyer, and I can help you¡ªNjord, Ragnhild, and Gunne, they¡¯ll join. Then we can kill the others and take ALL the sap for ourselves!¡± Birger was smarter than I gave him credit for. This changed things¡­.


    I gave serious consideration, and then a very serious nod. ¡°You asked me if my father was an ¨¢lfr¡­?¡±


    He clenched his hands, brimming with excitement.


    ¡°Well¡­ those are our buyers.¡±


    ¡°The ¨¢lfar!? But they protect the tree¡­ doesn¡¯t it give them sap like the Kings?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ but you can always have more. Especially when, if you have friends amongst the ¨¢lfar, it¡¯s very easy to avoid their patrols and know exactly where to hide the kegs. Namely, in a place my contact will find them¡­ spiriting them away without reporting them to the other ¨¢lfar. He¡¯ll then pay us.¡±


    Birger was leaning forward so far he was almost falling off his hammock. He roared with bellowing laughter, and if not for the thick foliage the others would¡¯ve no-doubt heard. ¡°I hope the ¨¢lfar are more generous than the dvergar.¡±


    ¡°Is anyone less?¡±


    He wheezed. ¡°Even if it were still just one percent, there¡¯d be less ways to split it after we lose the old man and his hundar.¡±


    Then we laughed maniacal laughs for a long time and even gurgled at each other. But as fun as this was¡­ we still had all the hard work before we employed any devious schemes. I got to hammering the pitons. My supernatural status may have inspired Birger with awe, but not enough to let me off route-finding duty.


    I thus had plenty of time to consider what, exactly, I would tell Stonebear about Birger.


    Gripping the large ridges of Yggdrasill¡¯s giant bark, I ascended with hands and spiked boots. It¡¯s similar to climbing a rock wall, though the boots make it easier. I placed a piton every ten feet or so. Though some places were much harder to climb than others, where the bark was smoother without the ridges for grip. Or worse, sickly and frail; ready to peel off unexpectedly. These are places where you put a piton every couple of feet, and hammer them in tight.


    ¡°I¡¯m out of pitons, your turn again!¡± I called down to Birger.


    ¡°Hold on, I¡¯ll send some up to you!¡± He grabbed my haul-line, tying a bag to it.


    I made the sign for negative, which was like drawing a line across your throat with your entire arm. ¡°I¡¯ll haul it up for you, if you like¡­ but you¡¯re doing the next leg.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡± Birger bellyached. ¡°You¡¯ve barely put in a dozen!¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to curse you¡­?¡± I pointed at his heart again.


    ¡°You can¡¯t just¡ª... nevermind. I¡¯m always the one who has to do the hard work, but that¡¯ll change soon enough.¡±


    In preparation for Birger, I very quickly hammered in an anchor-piton, fixing it to my klifrigg with a hook. Then, I pulled up the belay cord between us until it was tight, and pulled up Birger¡¯s pack with the haul-rope. Fixing the pack to the anchor, everything was ready¡­.


    Birger climbed up, slower and more cautious than myself. ¡°What¡­. What do you know, about changelings?¡± He spoke meekly, focusing intently on his words, and not on his handholds. ¡°The boy I mentioned, he was¡ªAH!¡± He gripped hard onto the bark, one spiked boot pulling out of the spire.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I held his belay cord tight.


    ¡°You idiot! You nearly pulled me off!¡± He readjusted himself, stabbing his other boot back in.


    I measured the distance to him, neck craning. ¡°You¡¯re still all the way down there? How are you so slow¡­?¡±


    ¡°Not all of us try to fly everywhere when we climb!¡± His hissy accent came back with his hissy fit. ¡°Have you ever belayed for someone in your life!?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± I paused, trying to think of a good way to say, ¡®no¡¯.


    Birger¡¯s tattoos looked darker as his skin paled. ¡°Firekeeper preserve me¡­ Keep some SLACK in it! It¡¯s better I fall a little further than you¡­ what were you even trying to do!?¡±


    ¡°Well, when Njord yanked on my belay¡­ it just gave me a boost. And you were really, reeeally slow!¡±


    ¡°...Crow.¡±


    ¡°Birger?¡±


    ¡°If you do that again, I¡¯ll kill you. No more ¡®boosts¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Fine, be boring then.¡± The sun moved through the sky, the shadows of the other branches slithering and shifting as he finally approached at the rate of a tortoise climbing a tree.


    ¡°I¡¯m not that slow! Stop yawning!¡± Birger said, a full year later. ¡°Move aside¡­ you picked the only good place to go up that rotted section¡ªof course you¡¯d quit just before the hard part.¡± There was a patch of sickly bark that covered almost this entire side of the Spire-Branch, prone to break, fray and slip as you scale it. We could¡¯ve circled around past it, to the opposite side where the slope of the Spire was to our advantage¡­ but that side was more exposed to patrolling eyes.


    ¡°Allow me to make way for Loki¡¯s chosen.¡± After a sweeping bow, I descended to make room for Birger. And then, very awkwardly, we tried to pass each other.


    ¡°Hey, watch it! Not so close, you almost kicked me in the head!¡± Birger gave me a wide berth, perhaps a little afraid of the ¡®changeling¡¯.


    ¡°Oh, sorry¡­ your head just looked good to step on.¡±


    ¡°Bah! Don¡¯t think you can treat me like a thrall just because you have connections!¡±


    He hissed at me, and I was tempted to mimic that as well.


    ¡°You need me, remember that!¡± Birger assumed the lead position, going up with the belay cord between us.


    ¡°No need to be angry, Birger. I''ll still help.¡± I adjusted the belay, keeping it tight.


    ¡°Just handle that cord properly or I¡¯ll strangle you with it!¡±


    Birger used a crack in the bark to climb up, wedging his hands in it as he got to my last piton, the anchor. Left to handle the belay while Birger put in pitons, I came to realize just how boring belay work was. You just sit there, loosening the rope every few minutes as they go up. And Birger had a tight grip, so he wasn¡¯t likely to fall. Small chance of falling debris hitting him, too, which the belayer was meant to watch for.


    ¡°More slack! Are you trying to choke me?¡± Birger was on his third piton in what felt like the third hour, hammering them excessively as Njord did; perhaps out of fear of the sickly bark. I obliged, giving him a little more slack every time, until he had plenty.


    The sun was high, now; the swirls of slithering darkness replaced by a few long snakes of shadow¡ªgreat dragons stretching across the vast spire. One stretched over us, connecting me and Birger like a dark path I was taking.


    He began to chuckle, his sour mood lightening with the lifting sun. ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m working with an agent of the ¨¢lfar!¡± He wore a loud smile as he finished his sixth rivet.


    ¡°Believe it quietly.¡± Resting under a bush, I leaned into the tree; its cold, shadowed surface not chilling me at all. Rather, it suited me well.


    ¡°I know that,¡± Birger said, as if he hadn¡¯t been just laughing loudly about how fine it was to be secret agents. ¡°You know, I considered killing you before. But you were ferocious in dodging around on that rope¡­ you barely looked human! I decided I wanted that on my side, and my pendant could fall down to Hel where you threw¡ªOOF!¡±


    Birger fell.


    Tumbling through the air, choking and gasping, his arms flailing. He caught hold of his belay, just before he hit the end of his rope. ¡°Ghaaack!¡± He looked around in a confused daze, clinging to the belay, to his klifrigg, desperate to take the pressure off his aching body after the fall. ¡°Cro¨Ckhaa khaa¡ªCrow¡­?¡±


    Birger¡¯s eyes finally found mine. His tattooed face did little to hide the fear in them¡­ but he relaxed at the sight of me clutching the belay. ¡°Was worried you got hit, too¡­. What was it? A falling sprout¡­? Knocked the wind right out of me. D-don¡¯t just hang there like a statue!¡± Looking up, he saw the length of his belay was some five yards. A nasty fall, but likely nothing broken. But, due to the slant of the tree¡­ he was left hanging out of reach of the bark, with nothing to grab. ¡°Loki¡¯s burning eyes!¡± He sounded annoyed, now; the fear gone, his breath returned. ¡°I¡¯ll swing back¡­ get ready to catch me.¡±


    But then¡­ there was a terrible sound. My anchor, which I had so hastily hammered in¡­ began to groan.


    The fear returned to Birger¡¯s eyes, wincing at every crack of the wood as the anchor¡¯s hold failed. ¡°Crow¡­ don¡¯t panic. Listen carefully.¡±

 Chapter 12: Trial

    ¡°He told me to cut the rope¡­.¡±


    Njord¡¯s fist answered me. Doubling over, I coughed and spluttered. There was no point in acting tough¡­ he just hit harder.


    ¡°Lygari! Liar!¡± Njord was ready to stomp me with his big, fat weight. Covering myself, hands on head, I rolled away from the blows.


    ¡°He did! There was no way to save him!¡± As expected, Njord kicked me again.


    ¡°Birger is¡­ was the greatest climber I knew! He wouldn¡¯t end up in a situation like that!¡±


    ¡°It was rotten bark! Anyone can fall to that!¡± I shouted this to all around me. The tappers were collected on one of the branchlings of the Spire-Branch, deep in a thicket. There was plenty of room in the clearing they chose, but it felt cramped when surrounded with unfriendly faces.


    ¡°You think he didn¡¯t know that!? He¡¯s dealt with rotten bark a thousand times! Tell the truth!¡± He approached again for another interrogation.


    ¡°A sprout fell on us, that is the truth!¡± I grabbed a fallen, rotten piece of wood, threatening to¡­ break it on his face. He smashed it with his fist. His hands clasped me like a noose, making me look into his face, red and angry as the blood on his knuckles, as his red hair¡­ as his bloodshot eyes. He looked like a draugr, a spirit of vengeance returned from the grave.


    ¡°And why didn¡¯t you tell him it was coming¡­? Why weren¡¯t you keeping proper watch!?¡± Njord caused a flash of discomfort amongst the others. Falling sprouts were fast and rare, so even with a belayer on watch, accidents still happened. Any of them could be in this situation, it felt like¡­ but no one dared speak.


    ¡°By Odinn¡¯s eye! I warned him! That¡¯s how he leapt off, that¡¯s how he ended up hanging from the spire!¡± I screamed for all to hear, right in his face, and he didn¡¯t budge. ¡°Birger was sent alone with no one to guard him¡ªand you blame me for being there to help!? If I hadn¡¯t gone up there, the same thing would¡¯ve happened!¡± Not the most tactful thing I said, Stonebear¡¯s grimace etching slightly deeper.


    ¡°You made him let his guard down! He was too busy babysitting the newcomer to watch out!¡± Njord¡¯s hands clenched tighter.


    ¡°Yhhouuu¡ª¡± I made a funny sound. Grabbing his wrists, I pulled against them, releasing his grip a little. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± I wheezed. ¡°What was I supposed to do!?¡±


    ¡°You cut the rope!¡± He strangled harder. I wasn¡¯t in a position where I could kick him effectively. I reached for his eyes, dodging his teeth as he bit at me. Clawing and scrabbling at his face¡­ he pushed me away, hands still strangling; Njord¡¯s arms so long I could no longer reach his face. It was harder for him to choke me at his full extension, but he was strong enough that he could. Pulling at his hands, I lifted one leg, kicking hard at his shin, trying to push myself free. He didn¡¯t like the kick, and stretched out as he was¡­ I slipped from his grasp, nails clawing at me as I did.


    ¡°Birger told me to!¡± I gasped for breath.


    ¡°Lygari! He would never sacrifice himself for a mad changeling!¡± Njord approached again, ready to repeat the stomping, the strangling, the game of seeing how far he could throw me and how I¡¯d land.


    ¡°Wait, Njord!¡± Erik¡¯s voice wedged in, slipping between the shouting. ¡°We¡¯ve all thought about that¡­ we¡¯ve heard of plenty of people who had to cut off their own brothers with a line between them, and those who both fell because they wouldn¡¯t. Many of us would¡¯ve done the same, in Crow¡¯s position.¡±


    ¡°You would have cut Birger loose!?¡± Njord roared, turning on Erik and giving me some relief.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡± Erik retreated a step.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°And why do you believe this kinslayer, this murderer? He killed Birger!¡± He walked along the crowd, telling them his opinion¡ªand theirs as well.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­.¡± My protest was weak after so many repetitions.


    ¡°You hated Birger! So you cut his rope! It was YOUR anchor that failed! I told you to put them in tight!¡±


    I shuddered, Njord shouting tight by my ear as he seized a fistfull of black hair.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t like that! He¡­ told me things! We were getting along, making plans.¡± Stonebear¡¯s gaze kept me careful what I admitted to.


    ¡°Plans¡­? Like your ¡®princess¡¯? Does she even exist, or was it another one of your games?¡± He shoved my head down... and I didn¡¯t dare to lift it. ¡°Where¡¯s the Crow who dances and sings? Who pecks at us with his endless, grating wit!? You killed Birger, and now you¡¯re acting like a sorry, scared boy, to trick us!¡±


    Lifting my gaze, I shouted with bared teeth. ¡°One moment you say I¡¯m an incompetent coward, and the next that I am Loki himself!?¡±


    ¡°You hated Birger because he worshipped Loki!¡±


    ¡°Is that why I supposedly murdered him? Or will you switch around back to me being the scared boy when that doesn¡¯t fit!? You don¡¯t CARE Birger¡¯s dead! You just want me to join him!¡±


    ¡°You argr skitkarl! He was my brother! My sister was going to marry him, and now Ragnhild will grieve because of you!¡± Njord was tired from shouting and from his own anger. I could tell because he didn¡¯t hit me. ¡°And here you are¡­ acting like Birger was your best friend, so sad when you¡¯ve been waiting like a vulture for a chance to kill him! What¡¯s got you so morbid all of a sudden, Crow!?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone die!¡± I choked the words. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect it¡­ to feel like this. I keep thinking of his stupid, tattooed face, looking at me as he falls down to Hel¡­. And I didn¡¯t expect him to tell me to cut the rope!¡±


    ¡°Look at you¡­ ever the actor, the pleaser as much as the aggravator, as it suits you. People in the upper tree die all the time, how can you never have seen it!?¡±


    ¡°I was lucky¡­ and alone. I knew a lot of people who didn¡¯t come back from climbing, but it never happened to me! What did you want me to say, joining you? That I haven¡¯t killed before¡­? That I¡¯d be a new-blood you could push around and beat like you¡¯re doing now?¡±


    ¡°So you were just trying to make friends by acting tough, and making us all WANT to kill you!?¡±


    ¡°It worked, didn¡¯t it!? Until this went wrong, all was well! Why would I ruin everything!? You think I¡¯m so smart, so if I killed him, why wouldn¡¯t I just have untied the rope since I¡¯m good with knots? I could have said I never saw Birger¡ªso he must¡¯ve fallen before I got there. I cut the rope because I HAD to!¡±


    ¡°It¡­. You just¡­ didn¡¯t think of it till now!¡± Njord paused, growling with fury. So angry he couldn¡¯t think to answer, but not being able to answer made his rage burn hotter. ¡°You knew it¡¯d be too suspicious Birger disappears the moment you climb after him! This was a plot to get our sympathy, our attention!¡±


    ¡°You think I purposefully got you to accuse me of kinslaying, wanted to get beaten¡­ for attention? You f¨ªfl, nothing you said makes sense!¡±


    ¡°It does make sense!¡± Njord was boiling in his own blood. ¡°You¡¯re just trying to confuse me¡­ to trick us all!¡±


    ¡°You tried to throw me off the tree, because I called you ugly!¡±


    ¡°And it would¡¯ve been good if I did!¡± Njord reached for me, planning to finish that.


    ¡°See, you just hate me! You hated me since your sister laid eyes on me, when I did nothing wrong! You would have proudly been a kinslayer yourself!¡± I squirmed away, Njord not having the energy to catch me.


    ¡°You¡¯re a thief, a liar, a disgraceful coward, a murderer! I would¡¯ve done us all a favour!¡± He grabbed me by my klifrigg. ¡°It was my mistake to put up with you!¡±


    He dragged me towards the edge of the branchling. I clawed for something to grip. ¡°Will you just let him murder me!?¡± I called out to the cowards around me.


    ¡°Njord¡­¡± Stonebear¡¯s voice was not loud., but it was heard.


    Njord stopped to look at him. ¡°WHAT IS IT!?¡± Stonebear wasn¡¯t deaf¡­ but Njord still bellowed like a bull, trying to frighten that cold, stoney face. And it had been working¡­ Stonebear did not say a single thing to interrupt Njord, letting him interrogate Crow this way for over an hour.


    Now¡­ he took opium, and lit his pipe. ¡°It¡¯s been going on in circles for long enough¡­ we¡¯ve heard your side, so sit down, and let the rest of us have our turn to discuss it.¡±


    The veins on Njord¡¯s neck pumped and swelled, his eyes bright red with blood. ¡°...Haven¡¯t you heard a thing I said¡­?¡±


    ¡°I have¡­.¡± Stonebear nodded, puffing his pipe. As calm as he was, Gunne and Asotall looked ready for a fight they didn¡¯t want. ¡°So let us discuss it¡­ we are honourable men, here.¡± A strange thing to hear from Tappers¡­ but appreciated in the circumstance.


    Njord tossed me aside like a sack of potatoes. He stomped his way to a central place amongst the shrinking crowd, forcing himself to sit down when his body wanted to jump and fight and kill.

 Chapter 13: The Thing

    There was silence... no one wanted to be the first to speak.


    ¡°You know¡­ I didn¡¯t like Birger,¡± Asotall¡¯s moustache said, bobbing up and down.


    Njord fixed him with the evil eye, a prelude to the evil fist. ¡°So we should be grateful Crow murdered him!?¡±


    Asotall turned to the norn-blood, his moustache and thick eyebrows revealing nothing. ¡°Let me finish what I have to say, Njord.¡±


    There was a tension between Asotall¡¯s hairy nobility, and Njord¡¯s blood-red violence.


    ¡°Speak then.¡± Njord permitted.


    Asotall nodded in a half bow, respectfully. He had the poise of a jarl, despite being a mere tapper. ¡°I don¡¯t think Crow killed him. He¡¯s always been so full of bluster and ridiculous bravado. He would¡¯ve done it openly for some insult or other, to impress us¡­ even though he¡¯d likely have died.¡± This was¡­ annoyingly convincing to the crowd. Especially annoying to Njord.


    But then Asotall had to open his big moustache: ¡°That being said¡­ I¡¯m worried that, even if it isn¡¯t murder, or incompetence¡­ it is bad luck. And that¡¯s far worse.¡± A chill ran through the air. ¡°We¡¯re already contending with the ¨¢lfar magic, and the curse of the tree¡­ at the least, I think Crow should be abandoned. We could lay down lines and drop him a mile away from us, so he can do no harm.¡±


    ¡°Why should I be punished for an accident!?¡± I interrupted. ¡°I told you, he said to cut the rope.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I heard!¡± Gunne stepped forward, his face so boring and typical it was almost interesting. He never said much, and what he did say was always forgettable.


    ¡°I heard Birger cursing your name as he fell!¡±


    I hope they forget he said that. I looked at him in confusion. The crowd was captured and Njord standing up, ready to pounce


    ¡°I was checking the pins and the route, near to where you were. And, through the leaves, I heard Birger calling you a changeling to his last!¡±


    ¡°Really¡­ you think that¡¯s the worst he¡¯d call me, if I deliberately murdered him?¡± Bruised and battered, I stood up to Gunne. I glared at him with a pristine face, untouched with bruises or blood¡ªbut something about my gait and quickness after taking such a beating¡­ it unsettled him.


    Still, he tried to continue. ¡°He wasn¡¯t speaking kindly¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll curse him for telling me to cut the rope, just because he didn¡¯t die with kind words on his lips? After he saved me? I was frozen, unable to say a word! I panicked¡­ and when he saw I couldn¡¯t fix a new anchor in time, he said to cut the rope!¡±


    ¡°But why didn¡¯t you just stab your boots in and hold him?¡± Gunne said quickly, thinking he had me.


    ¡°We were on the rotted bark! It was like trying to stand firm in a swamp.¡±


    ¡°But you could¡­¡± Gunne stopped, realizing things had got a bit too interesting for his calibre.


    ¡°Hold on, you can¡¯t interrupt me like that!¡± he said, realizing I interrupted him earlier.


    ¡°Really? Who told you that? Did we have a lawspeaker to recite the law at the start¡­? What did he say about beating the accused bloody, to force a confession, if so?¡±


    ¡°Obviously we don¡¯t have time for a full and proper Thing, with a lawspeaker¡­ but you still interrupted me when I said Birger was¡ª¡±


    ¡°All you said is you think you heard ¡®changeling¡¯, while deep in a thicket! There¡¯s nothing to interrupt.¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough, Gunne.¡± Stonebear cut in. ¡°Crow, stop interrupting people¡­ now does anyone else have something to say?¡±


    ¡°I would just like to add, if I could, Stonebear,¡± Gunne said, ruffled, ¡°that it¡¯s all suspicious enough that we are safer killing Crow than letting him live.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Kinslaying suits you as a precaution, does it?¡± I asked.


    Gunne shrugged. ¡°We¡¯re tappers¡­ not strutting jarls. We should act as we are. Besides, no one will be sorry to see you go.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re now my favourite person to drag down with me.¡±


    ¡°See, murder is his nature!¡± Gunne jumped quickly on my joke. ¡°Well, do we all agree? Should we free ourselves of Crow¡¯s bad-luck, his nuisance, his threats?¡±


    Njord stood up, his glare willing the others to do so.


    Asotall, his moustache frowning in pity, stood up. Even Erik stood up. A unanimous decision¡­ except for one dwarf.


    ¡°Come on, Stonebear¡­¡± Njord loomed over him, making the dwarf look smaller, older. ¡°It¡¯s not like you to see things differently from me.¡±


    Stonebear looked up. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for the others to tell me if they have anything left to say. Crow?¡±


    ¡°My ghost will be vengeful!¡± My growl seemed to hit with the same force as Njord¡ªpartially because it was Njord¡¯s, which I mimicked. ¡°I¡¯ll become a draugr like none other, sent to destroy you for your crimes, this injustice¡­ I¡¯ll bring not just Yggdrasill against you but the forces of HEL! If you think I was trouble in life you will fear the monster I am in death! And maybe I¡¯ll meet up with Birger, and he¡¯ll come along for the fun!¡± I spoke with teeth, with mad eyes that did not see a crowd but a few individuals to each curse to their graves.


    I regarded my work, whether I had saved Crow with this aggressive defence.


    Asotall¡¯s face didn¡¯t change, as it was just a moustache¡­ but he sat down.


    Njord¡¯s voice was fire. ¡°What are you doing, you West-Man? Are you a woman frightened by a simple curse of a dying boy?¡±


    Asotall shook his moustache. ¡°I am fine with leaving the boy, I see no reason to test his curse. And it is wise men who fear strong curses more than steel.¡±


    I and Njord both looked to Gunne, wondering what he might do. ¡°He should¡¯ve been a skald instead of a tapper¡­.¡± Gunne had shivered under my curse¡­ but it seems he wasn¡¯t a wise man who feared it more than Njord¡¯s steel. ¡°I suggested it, I stand by it. We¡¯re better off without him.¡±


    ¡°Erik?¡± Stonebear looked to him, Njord¡¯s glare following but lacking its lustre¡ªhe knew Erik didn¡¯t need much.


    ¡°Well¡­ something I¡¯d like to say.¡± He looked around, expecting a denial.


    ¡°Go on¡­.¡± Stonebear was looking up at the sun now, calculating daylight.


    ¡°We¡¯re already a man down near the start. So, if we lose Crow¡­ do we have to give up the expedition?¡± Erik made a simple and obvious point, as he was a simple and obvious Erik. Still, in the wrangles of morality and curses¡­ it was a forgotten point.


    ¡°Will we have to delay till next spring?¡± Asotall¡¯s moustache asked.


    ¡°Just get some boys from Bl¨¢byr on our way up!¡± Njord insisted.


    ¡°So we have to stop to find them, and perform a new blood-brother ritual? And what if there are ¨¢lfar spies amongst them?¡± Asotall¡¯s moustache seemed impervious to Njord¡¯s glaring.


    Gunne looked troubled. ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to wait till next spring¡­.¡± He sat down.


    Njord grabbed him by the klifrigg. ¡°You STARTED the motion!¡±


    ¡°So you keep it going, if you want.¡± Gunne grabbed Njord¡¯s hand, trying to hide his fear with dismissal as he pulled it off. ¡°I¡¯m here to make money¡­ not to cry tears over a Loki-thrall.¡± He tried to block, but Njord¡¯s punch was too fast. Gunne fell onto his back, flummoxed by Njord¡¯s first good deed.


    ¡°Fie! Stop that!¡± Stonebear commanded.


    ¡°I¡¯ll not have our dead foster-brother disrespected!¡± Njord said while hitting one foster-brother and trying to kill another.


    ¡°Tegi t¨²! Njord¡­ I mean it.¡± Stonebear finally found his teeth.


    He can put them back in the jar when he¡¯s done with them, I thought, looking to Njord for his reaction. His teeth were bigger, sharper¡ªbut he was a lone wolf. He looked around. Everyone was sitting, except him.


    ¡°Do you really want to work with a coward who cuts you loose!?¡± His question was met with silence. ¡°Fine!¡± Growling like a cornered dog, he left before he killed someone. Namely¡­ me.


    Stonebear approached me, leading me away from the others. ¡°Are you too hurt to continue? Will we need to stop a day?¡±


    ¡°No¡­ I can keep going.¡± I noticed dwarves have big feet, at least relative to their size.


    ¡°Come on¡­ raise your head.¡± Stonebear tapped me with the end of his pipe.


    I did so without argument.


    ¡°I always wanted you to shut up¡­ but now your silence is worrying.¡± Saying that, Stonebear waited, standing there silently with me for several minutes; making no sounds except to indicate he was still here, standing with me.


    The silence cracked: ¡°Crow¡­ what happened?¡±


    My lips clenched, as I resumed a downcast posture.


    ¡°Don¡¯t waste my time¡­ what are you hiding.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing you need to concern yourself with¡­.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll judge that.¡± He insisted.


    I looked in the opposite direction, as if his presence was painful. ¡°You might throw me off the tree¡­.¡±


    ¡°... No. I won¡¯t do that. But if you don¡¯t tell me, I will throw you out of the Liv, right now.¡±


    ¡°I set myself up for that, now, didn¡¯t I¡­?¡±


    ¡°You did.¡±


    Looking up to the sky, I saw only leaves and brush. ¡°I panicked¡­ and¡­ I cut the rope.¡±


    ¡°...Well,¡± Stonebear puffed on his pipe. ¡°Keep that to yourself.¡±

 Chapter 14: A Nice Tree

    After the incident, I was generally sent alone to scout. It was good, quiet work. No one pushing me into briars, or calling me a changeling¡­ it was boring work. We¡¯d left the Spire-Branch, finally, and were heading to meet up with Ragnhild and Vidar.


    Njord and Asotall appeared. Njord was never allowed to be alone with me, on Stonebear¡¯s orders.


    ¡°Are the pitons in tight?¡± Njord put teeth in the question.


    ¡°Very,¡± I answered.


    Njord would probably like this new version of me better, if he wasn¡¯t so set on hating me.


    A shadow overtook us, putting us in near darkness, despite us standing in a clearing during the middle of the day. We had gotten close to the Trunk of Yggdrasill. I have mentioned the Spire Branch; how you could walk around the base of it in five minutes. Yggdrasill, if you could find a place to walk, takes about sixty times longer to circle. Five hours, half a day¡¯s march¡­ and its shadow covers mountains.


    Walking under the holy tree¡¯s darkness, we eventually came to the trunk. There were a lot more people and more activity here, near the centre, near Bl¨¢byr... but you could still approach it quietly through the lesser thickets. Moreso on the layer we chose to approach from, as there were many trolls around this area. Trolls being one of the leading causes of tapper deaths, behind elves, and¡­ falling, of course. In the shadow of the tree, both falling and trolls became greater dangers.


    Moving cross-limb, we tried to keep to thinner twigs where trolls would be afraid to climb¡ªor at least the larger ones. It took almost a day to get to the trunk, in the end, but that was fine. We had ascended for two days, and the thin air at this height was taking its toll. Keeping ourselves at the same level would give us a day to adjust. Asotall found it quite hard, coming from a low-lying country instead of being native-born to the tree.


    Now that we were at the trunk, though, it was time to contact Vidar and Ragnhild. We listened for a coded birdcall¡­.


    Njord, pulling out a whistle, made a strangled noise that sounded more like a duck.


    ¡°What are you laughing at!?¡± Njord rounded on me.


    ¡°Thinking it¡¯ll be funny when the ¨¢lfar come looking for the poor, wounded duck.¡±


    Njord grabbed his dagger and Asotall caught his arm.


    ¡°It seemed a good enough birdcall to me, Crow.¡± Asotall¡¯s moustache said. Come to think of it¡­ with Asotall¡¯s long hair, I couldn¡¯t be sure he had ears, either.


    Stepping to the edge of the twig¡ªNjord considering pushing me off¡ªI said: ¡°cha-cha-cha-cha-chiAAAAH chiAAAAH!¡± And I didn¡¯t even need a whistle.


    The two of them stared, mystified. Even Asotall¡¯s moustache looked impressed.


    ¡°You really are a changeling.¡± Njord contemplated how this was another wicked sign against me. ¡°Stupid trick, all the same. I¡¯ve seen people make sounds as good as that before, with the right whistle. What good is doing it without a whistle?¡±


    ¡°Can you stop squawking? I¡¯m trying to hear the reply.¡± It was hard for me to hear anything over the sound of steam coming out of Njord¡¯s angry ears. Ah wait, there it is. That feminine little whistling Ragnhild makes.


    Continuing this, calling from clearing after clearing, we were probably a bowshot¡¯s distance. Climbing to a high place, I waved a flag for them to approach.


    Looking down, I saw Vidar removing his arm from Ragnhild just before her brother, Njord, came into view. Leaping to a twig and shuffling along it, I got close enough to hear Ragnhild say. ¡°Did anything happen?¡± She looked to Asotall, likely wondering where his eyes were pointed, beneath those thick eyebrows¡­ but also wondering why he was accompanying Njord. ¡°Where¡¯s Birger?¡±


    Njord lowered his head. ¡°He was out with Crow¡­ and¡­.¡± He paused, as if trying to be melodramatic. ¡°He fell. He¡¯s gone, Ragnhild.¡±


    Her mouth opened in a little O. ¡°Oh¡­ that¡¯s a pity. Is Crow all right?¡± She flinched, cowering a step as her brother changed from downcast to intent on killing.


    ¡°He¡¯s just fine¡­ for now.¡± Njord¡¯s concerns about my present and continual health were touching.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    But I was more attentive to the facts she had learned from Bl¨¢byr. Far from being a good recruiting ground¡­ the ¨¢lfar were rounding up and cracking down on tappers and other illegal organizations, there, much to the chagrin of the local king. What¡¯s more, some little bird apparently heard of our cache and told the elves about it¡­ as it was empty. Njord doubted this, saying other tappers probably stumbled upon it and stole our gear.


    Then we made camp. Ragnhild got an earful the next morning from her brother, for trying to sneak away from their pair of hammocks for some wicked ends. He also kept glaring at me extra much, for some reason. After that long day of restful hiking without ascending, the tappers felt¡­ well, pretty awful, still. But we weren¡¯t being paid to just sit around, so it was off to climbing the tree itself.


    Climbing the trunk is much like other bark climbing... but the ridges can get so huge that rather than pinching them with your hands, you scale them like large gaps in cliffs, via chimneying; like little chimney-sweeps ascending with their hands and feet on opposite walls.


    We had to be more purposeful about climbing from cover to cover, as quickly as we could, as the trunk is much more exposed. Still, it was utterly massive with lots of places that were unwatched. The shadow was also our ally in concealing our movements; the shade of the tree making parts of the night pitch-black this close to the trunk. Lantern flowers were critical for the terrifying night-climbing¡­ but also risked giving us away to deadly night-predators and patrols alike.


    On the fourth day of our journey, our camp stayed where we put it on the third day, allowing us to acclimatize and rest until the fifth and final day; when we would claim the sap.


    Stonebear was of the Khazad Rakhzan tribe of Dwarves. They live at the top of mountain peaks, so he found the change in altitude quite tolerable and was joining me on this scouting run.


    Stonebear raised a hand. ¡°Hold on¡­ let¡¯s rest in that thicket.¡± As you got higher, the thickets became very valuable. Not just for shelter from the cold, but because their leaves gave off fresh, woody air, making it easier to breathe. Stonebear rubbed his centuries-old limbs, happy to be out of the ceaseless gales that stormed the upper tree.


    ¡°You take this well, for a newcomer.¡± Stonebear rubbed his hands for warmth


    I practically sparkled at the compliment; those being a rarity since the incident with Birger. ¡°I was born in the upper tree, after all. So high, in fact, that I considered climbing up to Asgard.¡±


    ¡°Do you still have your reeur...?¡± Stonebear asked, unamused.


    I blinked, considering the question. Chuckling, I answered, ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Then your future children will thank you for not being so stupid as to climb up to Asgard.¡± Stonebear said.


    ¡°Have you ever been to Asgard?¡± I asked.


    He gave me a sharp look. ¡°No.¡±


    And no matter what I tried, he would scarcely say a word after that.


    Not much later, we were preparing to travel crosslimb, setting up a bow and grapple. Just like Birger¡¯s. I tried sitting on the rope¡­ and could not for the life of me make it work. But what was interesting, as we prepared to cross to the second limb¡­ there was a mighty stomping. One of the twigs in the thicket walked up to us, on two stumpy tree-stump feet. It was one of the etnar, towering high above us.


    ¡°Remember!¡± Stonebear whispered with no pretense of calm, ¡°we¡¯re just pilgrims!¡± He stepped forward, seeing it was too late to hide... and for an old dwarf like him, too late to run.


    Killing an etunn with a dagger wouldn¡¯t be easy. It would require cutting many, long and deep cuts into its bark, letting it bleed sap until it collapsed in exhaustion.


    ¡°Heill ok s?ll o holy child of Yggdrasill, may your branches forever flower, and may Thor rain upon you with gentle showers and never thunder!¡± Stonebear spoke more words in that one sentence than in my entire time knowing him. Probably a tenth of the words he¡¯s spoken across his centuries of life.


    More surprising, was that he knew the greeting of the Northern Etnar, which they only used amongst themselves.


    The tree-giant regarded us. It bowed, slowly. ¡°Heill, Little Ones.¡± It spoke with a slightly creaky voice, its mouth hardly looking capable of movement, much less speech. It tried to smile, but couldn¡¯t. ¡°May the sun love you like a mother-tree¡¯s shade. Do you need help?¡±


    Stonebear pointed up to the twig. ¡°If you could lift us up a bit, child of the World Tree, so that we may cast our line¡ªwe will be much obliged.¡±


    Nodding, very slowly, the tree lifted us up high above its head. From there, we easily shot our grapple arrow, and could even see what it was secured to. The etunn waited very patiently, never asking if we were done or even moving.


    Stonebear shouted down to the tree, unsure of its hearing. ¡°Thank you, etunn of Yggdrasill! Let our feet taste the earth below again, or at least the embrace of Father Yggdrasill.¡±


    Some people just talk and talk¡­. Sadly, I had made the mistake of not being a woman or a tree; so Stonebear wouldn¡¯t gossip with me.


    Slowly, we were lowered down again. ¡°May Yggdrasill keep you forever in its shade, little ones.¡±


    What a nice tree.