Page 5 of Thor

"Fifteen minutes until we start the survey, girls, so what's on the cards for today? To win your chance of no dishes at dinnertime..." Lara paused for effect. "What do you bet we'll find?"

"Arrows," Jorunn said promptly, like she did every day. She'd already won twice this week.

Sibyl thought for a moment. Every other day she'd been wrong, so what was one more? "A Viking sex god I can raise from the dead who can sleep in Nik's tent, and whack him with his axe every time he snores."

Lara laughed so hard she spat out her coffee. "Oh, I'd pay to see that!"

So would Sibyl, she thought but didn't say.

FIVE

The scents of smoke and roasted meat greeted Thor before he even entered the longhouse. He'd heard the shouts of merriment from inside and dismissed them as normal eventide fare in any Viking camp. Only now did realisation dawn on him that for Erik and his men, this was a victory feast.

A victory over Odin's men.

Thor's blood ran cold. He was no berserker, but as his rage built with every step toward the longhouse, he fancied he was fuelled with enough fury to take down a dozen men, maybe more, the moment he held his hammer in his hands again. Or even just an axe...

His gaze dropped to Fenrir's belt, only to see for the first time that the man carried no weapons at all. Like he was merely a lowly thrall instead of a mighty warrior who'd bested Thor himself in a fight. Nothing about this wolf man made sense. Not that it needed to. He would be the first to die, as Sif's shade demanded.

Fenrir entered the longhouse, with Thor hot on his heels. Not a single head turned in their direction. There was no fanfare, and no one announced his arrival. Thor wasn't sure whether to be insulted by their disregard or relieved, for entering their victory feast as Erik's prisoner would surely have them jeering instead of cheering at him. But to be ignored completely was not something Thor was used to.

Fenrir merely shrugged and pushed his way through the crowd, taking a seat in a dark corner, far from the fire. Again, like a thrall.

But Thor did not intend to shrink away into the shadows. He'd come to confront Erik for his crimes against his people, and if Thor was the sole survivor of his village, then by all that was holy, he would do so, even if it cost him his life. Sif's shade demanded it.

So he stood and waited.

Waited while Erik's men crowded around the high table, hooting and cheering at what appeared to be a contest between two men over who could eat the fastest...or perhaps the most, Thor wasn't sure. Servants kept bringing more meat, bread and mead to the table, as the two men consumed it all.

More of Erik's beastly warriors, Thor told himself, curling his lip in disgust. At least the wolf had been a warrior. These two gluttons were more like wild boars, or pigs, the way they ate.

Erik himself looked on from his chair, clapping his hands in approval as one of the men downed a horn of mead, before seizing a fresh joint of meat. The mead drinker bore a distinct resemblance to Erik – a son, perhaps?

The other man glanced up at Erik's son, then Erik himself, before grim determination wrinkled his brow as he, too, reached for more meat.

Thor started in surprise. What was Loki doing, seated at Erik's high table? He'd been the best of Odin's scouts, the sneakiest snake who could find a way in and out of anywhere. Thor hadn't seen him during the battle, but that hadn't been surprising, for people rarely saw Loki until he'd already struck a blow, and by then it was too late. They'd been brothers in arms for as long as Thor could remember, and they were brothers still, if Loki had somehow survived the battle.

Together, they would take on Erik and all his warriors.

After Loki had won this contest, for surely Erik would not appreciate Loki embarrassing his son.

Yet Loki was flagging, whilst the son's appetite seemed to grow. The world seemed to shift as Thor realised Loki was going to lose.

Erik rose from his chair with a roar and declared his son the winner, amid cheers from the rest of his men. Loki, on the other hand, seemed to shrink in his seat, shoulders hunched over as he drank down his disappointment with a mug of mead.

"You! Hammer man!" Erik shouted, pointing at Thor.

The hall fell silent, the crowd parting so that Thor could see not only Erik, but the table in front of him, where his hammer lay.

"Your brother has accepted his place in my hall. How will you entertain us, and earn your place here, hammer man?" Erik demanded.

Now all eyes turned to Thor.

Thor considered correcting Erik. While he and Loki might look alike, they were not blood brothers. Indeed, Loki was usually the first to say something when someone made such a mistake. But after losing the contest, Loki seemed to want to avoid notice as much as possible, so Thor let Erik's words pass unchallenged.

For he had a challenge of his own to issue.

Thor looked Erik in the eye. "I would have my hammer back, Jarl Erik, and I challenge you to a drinking contest for it. He who can drink the most and stay standing will be the winner, before all these witnesses." He waved a hand at Erik's assembled warriors, who all held their breath. Evidently, it wasn't often that Erik himself was challenged beneath his own roof.

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