Thor Page 10

Hrungnir reached out and grabbed Thor’s arms and tossed him aside, sending the thunder god skidding through the snow.

  The club fell back to the ground with a muted thud, and Hrungnir trudged over to retrieve it. “And so it ends, son of Odin.” He walked over to Thor’s prone form and upraised the club. “Now you die.”

  Hrungnir swung downward toward Thor’s head, intending to smash the thunderer’s face in. He would be known throughout all history as the one who finally destroyed Thor.

  But just as the club was about to strike, Thor reached up with his hands and caught it.

  “I say nay!” Thor cried as he pushed back against the club’s momentum.

  Hrungnir’s surprise at Thor’s actions led the giant to relax his grip for but a second, yet it was enough for Thor to use all his strength to push the club away. Hrungnir stumbled backward a few steps, allowing Thor to clamber unsteadily to his feet.

  The battle had only just begun, and Thor already felt as if he’d been fighting the Hulk for several hours. He’d had many brawls with the gamma-irradiated brute over the years, starting from the earliest days of the Avengers, and Hrungnir’s blows were very much like those of the green monster.

  But the primary difference between the jade giant and the frost giant he now faced was that the Hulk grew stronger as he grew angrier. The first time Thor and the Hulk clashed in the caves of Gibraltar, Thor had almost lost due to that particular quirk.

  He knew, however, that Hrungnir operated with no such advantage. Indeed, anger would no doubt reduce Hrungnir’s capabilities in battle.

  And so Thor once again took to the skies as Hrungnir got his bearings.

  “You speak of honor, foul Hrungnir, yet you use magic to bolster your prowess.”

  “How dare you!” Hrungnir bellowed. “I no more hide behind this armor than you do behind that absurd hammer of yours!”

  “It is no secret that one who challenges Thor does also challenge Mjolnir. The two names are fair intertwined in the minds of all who know of me throughout the Nine Worlds. But when those same folk do speak of Hrungnir—if, indeed, they speak of you at all—their words ring out regarding Goldfaxi and his speed. A challenge against you is considered a challenge against your might, or the fleetness of your horse’s hooves—not against magickal armor.”

  “It is also no secret that Thor wielded a sword before Odin granted him possession of Mjolnir. I’m sure the foes you faced in battle after being gifted that hammer were similarly caught unawares. Did it stop you from thrashing them?”

  Thor smiled. “It did not. But then, they were also not foolish enough to give the god of thunder time to catch his breath after a pounding.”

  And then Thor raised up his arms and summoned the storm that was his to control. Lightning crackled through the sky overhead, one of the bolts striking the top of the giant’s lowly keep.

  Hrungnir laughed. “Do you truly believe that your puny lightning can hurt me where your fists could not?”

  “Your assumption, foolish Hrungnir, is that the lightning will be brought to bear on you.”

  And then several bolts of lightning struck not Hrungnir, but rather the ground near the giant’s feet.

  The lightning turned the snow into gas instantly, even as it ripped through the dirt beneath, vaporizing it until Hrungnir no longer stood on steady earth.

  Waving his arms in a futile attempt to maintain his balance, Hrungnir suddenly was painfully aware of how heavy his new armor was. He fell backward and landed flat on his back, momentarily helpless.

  Thor pressed his advantage, knowing it would not last. He flew down to the ground and pounded on Hrungnir’s armor with Mjolnir.

  Many of the giants present thought they would never hear a sound as loud and horrible as that of the petrified oak shattering from Hrungnir’s mighty blow, but they were now proven wrong. That was as a whisper in the wind compared to the noise that resulted from Thor’s hammer striking Hrungnir’s armor.

  The very ground did shake like that of a rampaging beast. Stones loosened in the giants’ redoubt, and a nearby evergreen tree almost uprooted from the violent impact. Many of the giants who were close to the battle doubled over from the pain in their ears, so great was the sound.

  Inside the keep, Frigga was being held in a large room that had furnishings of great size, none of which she could actually reach. Thjasse had placed her near some oversized chairs, guarded by a single giant. That guard took up a position at the room’s only window, which afforded him a lovely view of the battle. Said window was too high to be of any use to Frigga, though she could hear the sounds of the clash.

  When Mjolnir struck the magic armor, the impact of uru against enchanted stone was enough to cause Frigga to fall over, unable to maintain her footing, bound as she was. Her guard also lost his footing, but he recovered more readily, using the windowsill to steady himself. Upon noticing that Frigga had fallen, he made no move to help her, but simply chortled.

  “So much for the heartiness of the Asgardians. Can’t even keep your feet.”

  Were she not gagged, Frigga would have reminded the brute that her hands were bound, but even if she had been able to speak the words, it would likely have had little effect.

  Then again, if she had been able to speak, she would have uttered a spell that would have removed her from this place. Her battle against Hrungnir had drained her considerably, and she was not yet at anywhere near her full strength, but she would, at least, have been able to send herself a league or two away from this keep, enough to give her a head start.

  Although at this point, she suspected, it did not matter. Just the fact that Frigga had been taken had been enough to rile her son, she had been able to see that much during her brief sojourn out of doors. Even if Frigga were able to effect an escape, it would change nothing. She would not be able to make it all the way to Asgard to inform Odin that she was safe, which would enable him to send the entire forces of Asgard to take on Hrungnir and his minions.

  Of course, if she were free, she could, at the very least, aid Thor, since the terms of the battle relied upon Frigga being Hrungnir’s prisoner.

  And Thor would need all the help he could get, for Frigga could sense the power emanating from Hrungnir’s new armor. She wondered whence he received it, though she feared she could make a rather educated guess that was very close to her own home …

  Falling down from the impact of Thor’s strike had proffered one advantage upon her: The gag that the giants had placed on her was now directly between her head and the floor of the keep. Rubbing her head against the floor caused the gag to shift. With a bit of patience, she might be able to eventually slide it off.

  Luckily for her, the guard evinced no interest in actually paying attention to her. He was back to watching the battle.

  Thor’s blow was sufficiently powerful that it affected its wielder as much as it did his surroundings. The very force of his strike sent the thunder god head over heels across the snow-covered ground.

  For several precious seconds, Thor was dazed, but he forced his wits to focus, forced his limbs to pay attention to his wishes, and he got to his feet.

  To his horror, Hrungnir was doing the same.

  Initially, Thor feared that his blow had been for naught, if the frost giant could so easily regain his feet, but the armor allowed Hrungnir’s face to be seen, and that betrayed the truth. His visage showed strain and fatigue, and Thor knew then that his blow was not in vain.

  But it was also not likely to be repeated. Thor’s very limbs felt as if they were made of rubber; his bones felt as fragile as they had once been made by a spell of Hela’s. On that occasion, he had had to fashion special armor to protect himself very much like what Hrungnir had done. Thor had used the steel mills of the Midgard city of Pittsburgh to forge his protection, and he wondered where Hrungnir had obtained his.

  But there was no time to speculate, for Hrungnir now ran toward Thor with his enchanted club ready to strike with his left hand. Barely able to s
tand, Thor found himself incapable of dodging the blow in time, so instead he raised his right arm and managed to catch the giant’s arm in mid-swing just as he had caught the club earlier.

  Angry, Hrungnir pushed with all his considerable, armor-enhanced strength. But Thor dropped his hammer and raised his left arm to join his right.

  He would not yield. He thought of Frigga, trapped in that keep solely because she fought to protect the children of Asgard.

  And so he gathered all his strength and pushed back.

  For a time—neither Thor nor Hrungnir would later be able to say for sure how long it was—Thor pushed with both his strong hands against Hrungnir’s enchanted left arm.

  But then Hrungnir recalled that he had another arm.

  The giant’s fist struck Thor’s chest with the impact of a thousand blows, and Thor stumbled into a crouch to try to catch his breath. Though it meant loosening his grip upon Hrungnir’s arm, the crouch served also as a dodge, and the club flew harmlessly over his head. What’s more, the suddenness of the action caused Hrungnir’s arm to fly free faster than expected, and he lost his grip on the club. The weapon flew aside to land in the snow.

  Thor knew he had to keep Hrungnir from retrieving the club, but that proved an unnecessary thought, as the giant evinced no interest in the weapon. Instead, Hrungnir grabbed Thor’s arms at the wrists and pushed his arms downward into his chest, forcing him to stay in a crouching position.

  With all his might, Thor tried to exert similar force, but it was for naught. He felt his arms start to crumple, his own body unable to straighten up from the sheer power attempting to crush him now.

  “Do you feel it, Thor? The power that will ultimately destroy you? You may believe it to be the magick of my armor, but it is far more than that. It is my impatience with you Asgardians and your arrogance and your preening. It is my indignation at Odin’s effrontery in making a fool of me in front of my own people. It is my anger at your belief that you are gods when you are nothing but tiny little humans with delusions of grandeur.”

  “Speak not of delusions, for I have done battle with much worthier foes than Hrungnir the Brawler and lived. I have faced many a frost giant, including those far more powerful than you, such as Ymir and Utgard-Loki. I have faced the god of mischief and the goddess of death. I have faced Surtur and the Midgard Serpent. I have faced the Hulk and the king of the vampires. I have faced the paramour of death and creatures who could destroy the universe with but a thought. I have faced the villains of legend and the tyrants of tomorrow.” Thor gathered up every ounce of strength and straightened his knees, lifting Hrungnir from the ground. Hrungnir’s face fell, his mouth agape as he felt his feet rise into the air, lofted by Thor’s strength. “I have faced all manner of creatures great and small and triumphed, Hrungnir. And while I grant that one of those foes may someday be the one that brings me down, I say now that today is not that day! The one who defeats me will never be the likes of you!”

  With that, Thor threw Hrungnir aside.

  Even as the giant landed in the snow with a most resounding crash, Thor felt his own knees buckle once again. Every muscle in his body cried out to rest, but he could not heed their desires, for his foe still was able to rise.

  And this time, Hrungnir was not happy. “The likes of me? Hah! Never have you faced the likes of me, Thor, for I will not be stopped. Not by your boasts, not by your hammer, not by your fists. Bring me down as many times as you may, I will always rise again to destroy you!”

  Both combatants lumbered toward each other, now, each moving slowly as if hip-deep in tapioca. For though each dared not show it to his foe, both Thor and Hrungnir were overwhelmed by exhaustion and fatigue from their mighty battle.

  But Thor knew that showing weakness would add strength to Hrungnir’s desperation, and Hrungnir knew the same held true for Thor. And though Hrungnir had the magic of Loki’s armor behind him, in truth he did not entirely rely on it sustaining itself against attack by Thor, for the giant knew that the source of the magic was not one he could trust. As for Thor, he knew not the source of the magic, only that it was damnably effective, as his aching muscles and weary bones could attest.

  Yet still they clashed. Their chests collided, their arms reaching and grasping for purchase.

  Thor pushed, and Hrungnir pushed back.

  Thor struck, using all the might of his fists, but the armor would not yield.

  Hrungnir struck, using all the might Loki’s magic had granted his fists, but Thor’s will would not yield, even as his mail splintered and his bones cracked.

  After trading blows in this manner, Thor had a bit of luck. Their battle had disturbed a great deal of the snow on the ground, and what was normally packed and firm had become loose and slippery. Hrungnir was already unaccustomed to the extra weight of the armor. Keeping to his feet was difficult under the best of circumstances. The loose snow made the circumstances far from ideal, and once again Hrungnir found himself losing his balance and crashing to the ground on his back.

  Thor took advantage of this respite to take flight once more. Again, he reached out to the power of the storm. “Winds blow, and rain fall! Thunder strike, and lightning roar! Thor Odinson commands you!”

  A massive storm front appeared as if from nothing, the winds kicking the snow up off the ground, making it appear to the naked eye as if it were a blizzard. The low temperatures meant that the rain that would normally ensue instead came down as sleet and hail. Thunder echoed throughout all of Jotunheim, and a massive bolt of lightning came crashing down directly onto the prone form of Hrungnir.

  The lightning coursed through the magickal armor, and the giant screamed, both in pain and outrage. He had been assured by Loki that Thor’s power would be unable to affect his armor. But the thunder god’s attack was considerably more powerful than his earlier thunder strike.

  The winds howled louder, the lightning intensified, and the sleet and hail pounded the ground, forcing the other giants to take shelter within the keep for their own protection.

  Brow furrowed with concentration, Thor threw more and more power into the storm. Lightning continued to crash into Hrungnir’s armor, and the giant screamed louder in pain and shock.

  Eventually, it became too much, even for Thor, and he had to stop. However, the storm had, at that point, gained a life of its own and dissipating it would take more effort than Thor had left. He had given the storm his all, and he shakily returned to the ground, the hail and sleet pinging off his helmet.

  Still, he could easily withstand the ravages of a storm he had created—though such tumultuous weather was hardly a bother to the frost giants, either. Thor had brought it primarily for the lightning.

  But even as his boots touched the snow, Hrungnir got to his feet.

  He had a wide grin on his face.

  “Is that all you have?”

  And then he reared back and punched Thor in the stomach. Too exhausted from his labors, Thor was able only to relax his body and go limp to minimize the damage from the giant’s blow.

  As he skidded across the snow, Thor realized that the damage was minimized in other ways. He had taken many punches from Hrungnir this day, and this last one was by far the weakest.

  Still, while that could be viewed as a victory for Thor, it had come at a high price. The thunder god’s ears rang, his vision had gone blurry, his ribs were bruised at best, broken at worst, and he had trouble ordering his thoughts.

  Hrungnir moved much more slowly toward his club. “You were wise to try to use the elements to stop me, Thor. Mere strength can no longer defeat me, and the only hope you had was to try to destroy me with your birthright.” He picked up the club and laughed bitterly. “But you failed! And now it is my turn.”

  Thor managed to slowly clamber to his feet. He tried to force himself to speak normally, despite the difficulty he was now having simply drawing breath. “Have I failed, Hrungnir? You move more unsteadily. Your words come more slowly.”

  “But I stil
l move! I still speak! You can barely stand!” He ambled toward Thor, rearing back to swing his club. “And you will not stand for much longer!” Hrungnir’s club came careening toward Thor’s head in the giant’s massive right hand.

  Unable to move with any dispatch, Thor instead raised his left arm to deflect the blow.

  That proved both wise and unwise. The former because, had the blow struck the thunder god’s head, it would likely have decapitated him.

  The latter because it shattered his arm.

  Again, Thor found himself reminded of Hela’s curse. In revenge for defeating Hela in combat and earning the freedom of souls she had claimed as her own, the goddess of death had caused Thor’s bones to become as brittle as kindling, something he had discovered the hard way on Midgard during a ferocious battle with the base villains known as the Marauders. Indeed, the pain that coursed through his arm at the splintering of bone now was the worst he’d felt since that day.

  Hrungnir threw his head back and laughed. “This club destroyed an oak that has stood for millennia! You are an even bigger fool than I thought to trust that something as pathetic as your arm would stand against it!”

  The winds from Thor’s storm were still howling, and he focused past the pain that suffused his body in order to grab hold of them once again. Raising his hammer to focus the storm’s power, he sent a vortex of wind to surround the giant.

  Hrungnir felt the winds buffet him in short order. “What trickery is this?”

  But Thor could not answer him, for all of his focus was devoted to increasing power to the mini-twister he was creating around Hrungnir and not collapsing from the agony of his broken bones.

  The vortex increased its speed. Hrungnir tried to move forward, but found himself unable to—the force of the wind had become so intense in so short a time that he could not budge.

  And then he started to rise.

  Helplessly, Hrungnir found himself being raised up by the twister.

  Sweat beading on Thor’s brow despite the cold, the thunder god urged the vortex to even greater speeds, its force sucking Hrungnir ever upward.