FROST- Jotun Chronicles #1

Private Tour

For a moment there was nothing but silence, and then Surtr’s booming voice filled the hall, “I send you to kill one Frost jotun, and you bring me fifty live ones?” He shook his head, looking amused, “Loki, my son. Why do I entrust you with anything?”

Sent him to kill a frost jotun…he means me. Anger flooded through me. King or no king, he could damn well look me in the eye and apologize for ordering me killed. I stepped forward to stand beside Loki, and the king’s eyes widened,

“Who’s this then?”

“My name is Megan,” I said defiantly, “I’m the one you ordered Loki to kill,” I crossed my arms over my chest, “so I would say it’s a good thing that instead of making more enemies, Loki has created allies. From what I’ve heard, your forces are depleted and you could use us.”

                Surtr stared at me in astonishment, “Well you’re a cheeky broad, of course we’re depleted, your people managed that nicely…”

“Dad,” Loki said in an even voice, “this girl has Amora’s blood.”

Surtr fell silent, and all around us the fire jotun murmured to one another. I was suddenly uncomfortably aware that every single eye was on me. Some were staring suspiciously, and some were regarding me with the kind of reverence that should be reserved only for national heroes and deities.

“So,” Surtr stepped closer, and his foot falls were heavy on the stone floor. I braced myself, unsure of what he was about to do. He towered over me, making me feel ridiculously tiny, “you are a descendant of Amora, savior of our people…” he leaned towards me until his great red nose was nearly touching mine. He smelled of strong ale and pipe smoke. I tried not to breath, my entire body was stiff with apprehension.

Finally he drew back and reached out, clasping my hand, encasing it entirely in his huge meaty grip, “We welcome you then, descendant of Amora, and your people. What news do you bring from Niflheim?”

Relief made me feel weak. I was thankful when Erik stepped up behind me, his presence was comforting. I took a deep breath and reported, “the Queen will attack in less than two weeks.”

More murmuring from the crowd around us, louder this time. The buzz of panic building in the room.  Surtr put an end to that abruptly, waving his hands in the air and roaring, “And now we have advanced warning! We will ready the soldiers, stoke the fires and win the fight!”

Behind him, the fire in the great fireplace roared even higher, the flames licking the thick logs more fiercely. The murmuring turned to cheers, ale was raised and toasts were made, a few people thumped the tables and cried war cries. It was astonishing how fast Surtr had changed the mood in the great hall.

“Come,” he growled softly, so that only I could hear, “follow me, we must discuss this in further detail.”

Surtr lead us past the table towards a door in the back of the wall. As we passed by, the black haired girl eyed us with interest. Loki gave her a wink as he passed, and my heart sunk a little. Was this some sort of betrothed he hadn’t told me about? Did he have a fiancé waiting for him here? Royalty often did that, arranged marriages and the lot. My chest was tight with anger at the thought. If that was the case, then he was a cheater and liar. He had kissed me. Who did that when they had a fiancé? I darted a look back over my shoulder at her as we entered the room after Surtr. She was staring right at me. She was stupidly good looking, it wasn’t fair.

I turned away, stomach churning. The room we had entered was nothing like the Queen’s parlor at the ice palace. There was no lavish decorations and lacey, doily- strewn furniture. This room was filled to the ceiling with dark cherry wood book shelves, which were all packed to the hilt with ancient looking tomes. In the corner of the library was a smaller version of the stone fireplace in the great hall, surrounded by overstuffed arm chairs and a sagging green couch. It was so shockingly different from the ice palace’s library. That had been stately and somber, a place where you felt you always had to be silent, or a librarian would pop out of the woodwork and shush you furiously.  This library had an air of mischief about it. I could picture fire jotun children in here, playing pranks on unsuspecting readers, chasing one another down the aisles of books. It was a place that didn’t mind laughter and noise along with quiet reading and contemplation.