| SORCEROUS SIGNALS |
| Written by Christopher Marshall / Artwork by Lee Kuruganti |
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| Rime & Frost |
End over end the huge, square-headed hammer twirled up into the morning mist. For a brief moment, it
seemed suspended in the golden rays of the sun. Its frosted wire-bound handle reflected the cold
brilliance of the north. The hammer hung for only a second before it crashed down with a deafening
impact upon an ice shelf.
As the ice shattered into infinitesimal pieces, Fomar dove into a deep snowdrift. He rolled back up on his
feet and blew snow from his lips. His eyes went wide as his brother bull rushed him and tackled him to
the ground. Clutched in each other’s arms they rolled down the snow-laden hill until both slammed
against the broad base of an evergreen. More snow toppled from the tree’s branches in a swarm of pine
needles. His brother’s mailed fist landed in Fomar’s jaw.
“That’s enough!” Fomar blurted through bruised lips. He waved his arms in resignation. “You win Rifgur,
Safrey’s yours.”
Rifgur folded his arms and grunted.
“I mean it, you win.” Fomar shakily rose to his feet and clasped his brother’s arm. “Aye, you’ve won her
fair and square.”
“What makes either of you think in the slightest that I am impressed by your barbaric display?” Beside
them appeared Safrey. Her eyes—bright with the hue of burning ice—drew to mere slits as the wind
caught up her finely spun hair of red-gold.
Fomar looked at Rifgur, baffled.
“Does anyone care about what _I want?_” Her eyes shifted from brilliant blue to storm gray.
“Oh no,” Fomar whispered, “a storm’s com’n.”
Rifgur grunted.
“I’ll tell you what I want.” Tears came down her cheeks and struck the snow in the form of brilliant blue
sapphires.
The skies turned black. The winds howled through the trees. Fomar moved slowly towards Safrey. “Now,
let’s not get upset.”
“I already am upset!” She stomped a lithe, bare foot on the ground and the sound of thunder rippled
through the mountains. “All you two ever do is fight. You destroyed that poor farmer’s home yesterday
and neither one of you even noticed. No, you don’t care about anything but yourselves.”
“But ice sickle, rime of my life, you just don’t understand. It is honorable for us to fight over you. Jotuns
always fight over the greatest treasures.” Fomar stammered.
“Oh I understand full well you frost bearded two time’n blue blooded Thrym spawn.” She pointed a dainty
finger at Fomar. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you slip’n up the mountain the other day. I know those
mountain wenches are back.”
“But…”
“I am Safrey, daughter of Gersemi, the brightest jewel of Freya’s treasures and you dare compare me
with two gangly gygjur?” She turned to Rifgur. “And you, strong and silent type are you? Have you ever
once said you loved me? Am I just a trophy? A prize awarded to the greatest warrior? Am I like fine
honey mead to be sampled, tasted and then forgotten?” She trembled. “Is that what I am to you? Just
sport? Mom warned me of jotuns like you and I should have listened.”
Rifgur grunted.
“I grow tired of frost giants. You are just immature, overgrown boys.” The clouds began to break. The
Sun’s golden beams splashed once again upon the ice. “I have found a new love.” She smiled, her eyes
shifted back to brilliant blue. Her pretty head turned to the ground. The giants followed her gaze to a pile
of snow at her feet.
“Yer in love with a snow mound?” Fomar scratched his frosted beard.
Rifgur grunted.
She giggled and bit her lip. With a moment of intense concentration, she yanked up out of the snow a
small, heavily armored figure with a bushy black beard and a shiny steel helmet.
“He’s a dwarf.” Fomar muttered.
The dwarf scowled.
“He is Alberich, King of the Dwarves, and I his fairest treasure.” Safrey held her head up. “He is sweeter
than honey and makes very pretty things from shiny gold.” She giggled in excitement and with a deft
turn of her fair feet spirited across the plains of snow with her new lover in tow—well, more dragged
behind her, and disappeared from time to time into deep snowdrifts. In this manner, the two
disappeared into the sunset.
Fomar placed a hand on the shoulder of Rifgur. “Come’n, let’s go up the mountain. Fenja and Menja are
back.” He gave his brother a sheepish look. “I may have wandered over to their home the other day just
to be courteous mind you.”
Rifgur grunted.
“The girls are excellent cooks I ate a feast fit for a king. Then they filled the night with song and dance.”
Fomar winked. “They are a bit volatile though after killing King Frodi and escaping enslavement. So be at
your best behavior. Don’t mention the Danes, even hint at treasures, and by Ymir’s frosted beard don’t
say a word about a grinding stone!”
Fomar’s gaze wandered down the path where Safrey disappeared. “Bah, who needs a fickle goddess
when you can have two strapping mountain gygjur anyway? Noth’n like two feisty sisters to keep you
frosted and chilled on a hot summer’s eve.”
They walked up the snow-laden trail to the mountain. The only sound the crunch of boots and the
endless song of the northern winds. Evening had already blushed under the cold azure sky. “If this
doesn’t work out there’s always the Rhinemaidens,” Fomar grinned, “and their treasure.”
Rifgur grunted.
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