Hammered

face. For the Morrigan, that wasn’t even a mild rebuke. She was just making sure I was paying attention. » How have you survived all this time without knowing that particular binding? «
    » With many layers of warm clothing, like everybody else. «
    » Where are these layers now? «
    » Elsewhere, regrettably. «
    » You can bind your sight to the magical spectrum, I hope? « the Morrigan asked. The question was fairly insulting, since it was one of the first bindings all Druids learned. But it was a lengthy one, unsuited for stressful situations, and I had simplified the casting of it long ago.
    » Yes, that’s what this charm is for, « I said, pointing to one on the left side of my amulet. Using a charm was like clicking on an icon to launch an application. They were shortcuts that freed me of the time and concentration necessary to craft the bindings from scratch each time. On the left side, I had charms for camouflage, night vision, healing, and my faerie specs, along with one other. On the right were the charms I used to bind myself to animal shapes, plus the bear charm I used for magic storage. I turned on my faerie specs and said, » Show me how to raise my temperature. «
    The Morrigan showed me and taught me the words for the binding. It turned out to be adjustments to the thyroid and hypothalamus so that my metabolism increased, burning more fuel in my cells and thus releasing more heat, while simultaneously preventing my blood vessels from restricting due to cold air on the surface of my skin.
    » You will need to eat a bit more to maintain this, « the Morrigan explained, » and do not forget to readjust these when you return to warmer weather or you will never stop sweating. «
    » Thank you, Morrigan. This is very helpful, « I said, already feeling myself warming up. » And delivered to me entirely without pain. «
    The Morrigan sucker-punched me hard in the face, sending me sprawling in the snow and breaking my nose.
    » You spoke too soon and with entirely too much sarcasm, « she said. » We could have parted with a kiss. Remember that. And remember that I advised you not to fight the Norse. Consider it well. « She spread her arms and they blackened; her legs rose from the ground and also turned black as her body bound itself to the form of a crow; and she flew west toward the root of the World Tree, where she could shift away from this plane, leaving me to bleed and regret my choice of words.

Chapter 24
    When I returned to the center of the village, nose knitting and blood washed away with a handful of snow, a blessedly clothed Hrym had joined Suttung and my companions around the communal fire pit. Someone had produced some dry wood from somewhere, and now a cheerful blaze from a few logs of northern pine illuminated the scene. Some other frost giants were standing around, curiosity driving them outside, making my friends look like Halflings. I surveyed the tableau with my faerie specs and saw that Väinämöinen had taken it upon himself to cast a seeming over the area, shielding us from the sight of Odin’s spies.
    The frost giants had interesting auras; the white noise of their magic was elemental and limited to ice, of course, but over that I saw colors of curiosity and mistrust and even anger over our presence. I could have been misinterpreting what I was seeing, however, since I had no baseline experience with frost giants.
    Hrym was taller than Suttung and much broader in the chest. Reminiscent of a growling heavy metal singer, he had studded black leather bracers on his wrists. He also had a fine fur cloak draped around him, which marked him as the chief and a little more sensible about the cold. I’m not sure he ever got to finish his business with his partner, though; the expression on his face combined with the tone of his skin suggested that he might be feeling a bit blue.
    He was grimacing down at Leif, who was trying to explain something in Old Norse, when one of the other giants directed his attention to my approach. He sized me up with his cold eyes and did not seem to be impressed. He had a beardcicle thicker than my neck and longer than my torso.
    » You are the Druid? « he said.
    » Aye. Call me Atticus. «
    » I am Hrym, « he said, and thus the pleasantries were concluded. He pointed at Leif. » This dead man tells me you can get to Asgard without crossing Bifrost. «
    » It is true. I have already done it. «
    » He tells me the Norns are dead, as is the great