Talani turned around slowly from the door, looking back out into the tundra. True to form, there was nobody there. This was becoming a pattern. Talani sighed.

“What does that mean?” he spoke out into the air. The chances of getting a straight answer were, of course, slim to none, but he thought he might as well try. Nothing answered him except the howling wind that continued to ring out. By now the cold was beginning to bite, and he knew he had to find a way out.

He tried the handle again, and it turned, but still the door would not open. He shoved hard but it barely moved. Like the door to enter the barrow, he wondered if it was enchanted in the same way. He closed his eyes and tried to walk through, but it remained as solid as ever. He considered using his axe but even to him it was clear that this would be magic.

“I have conquered this puzzle” he asserted. “The fire is out. There are no games left to be played here. Release me”. His tone remained bored, edging towards anger. The gods of this world were tricksters, and Hel was by no means exempt from that. The voice came again.

“You must yet know dishonour’s shame” it whispered.

Dishonour was not new to Talani. He had dishonoured himself in the past, that much he knew, and he was still trying to atone for it.

“I have known dishonour” he called out “and its shame has led me to here”.

“Then show me” came the reply “feel it burn anew. Let the flame of dishonour be reborn in your heart. As your blood has extinguished it, so too shall it rekindle it”.

This was the closest he had come to an instruction so far, but it still made no sense. The cold was biting still, deeper and deeper into his thick skin, sapping the energy he had left. He had something to prove here. He knew he had to be better than this voice, better than what they all thought of him. He returned to the brazier. Picking the scab that was forming on his arm, he let his blood flow back out into it. He willed this new blood to light it again, but it just spilled more blood.

He reached for his flint and steel, and threw a few hopeless sparks. The fire had been sustained by magic, and he had none that could help him here. He was trapped, on his own, and with no way out that he could see. He walked around the door, which was standing by itself. There was no entry he had missed from the back, just smooth stone. He pushed on it anyway, willing it to give, but nothing moved. It was just rock.

His thoughts and movements were getting more and more sluggish. Each new gust was a gale driving a thousand shards of ice into him, and as sturdy as he was, he didn’t have long left here to solve it. Maybe he was missing something on the door. He examined it carefully, checking for markings, looking at the hinges, the handle, the wood. None of it gave him any clues. He tried the handle again since he was here. The definition of madness is sometimes said to be ‘doing the same thing over and over again and expecting results’. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him if madness was setting in.

The voice rose up to taunt him again.

“Dishonour yourself, and know freedom. Or die proud. The choice is yours”. The wind snatched the last words, the whisper disappearing but the meaning settling in all the same. One gambit remained open to him, and he unslung his axe, holding it with fingers that could hardly grasp it. The last time he had tried this it had almost literally exploded in his face, but there was no other choice he could see.

Bringing what little of his strength he had left to bear, he swung the brutal axe in a wide arc, the heavy end picking up speed once it had reached beyond the tipping point. The wickedly sharp axe swept cleanly, and to his surprise, buried itself in the wood of the door. Splinters flew, and hope blossomed. He pulled it out of the gash with some effort, and swung again. Changing angles, he widened the hole, and a few swings later it was wide enough to start reaching a hand into. He tore into it, but something was wrong. There was nothing on the other side. He pressed his face to it, and the other side just held blackness. There was no sign there had ever been another room, only the endless void stretching out, like Ginnungagap itself.

With this, what little strength he had remaining fled him. Physically and mentally he was drained, exhausted by cold and hopelessness. He was on the verge of collapse, holding himself upright by leaning on the shaft of his axe. He was breathing hard, vision failing. The voice rose in his ear, sounding closer than ever.

“Know dishonour, or know death”.

He could feel the icy grip of shame over his heart, just as actual ice was crusting over his body. With a shuddering realisation, he understood the voice, and he knew exactly to what it referred. In no other circumstance would he countenance it, and even now he could hardly bring himself to do it. But his life was no longer his own, as he knew.

His breaths were getting slower, and each one was harder than before, but he gathered the air he had left and forced it out in a single, desperate whisper.

“Help me”.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

--

“He’s been gone for a while”, said Reg “you sure he’s alright?”

“He’s probably fine” Alf replied. “He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself”. They were all sat around on the floor, a sliding scale from boredom to concern. There had been no sound for several minutes, which they were putting down so far to difficulty solving it. That said, it was more a concern of whether or not he was surviving it than solving it.

“One way or another, would he not have been back by now though?” reiterated Reg.

“Well if you want to open that door and go check on him, be my guest” Alf retorted. Reg had spent some time in the far north, and was no stranger to cold, but none of them were wearing the correct gear for that environment, so the only one who could sustain themselves had been Talani.

They didn’t know how much time he had, and from what they had seen briefly inside, none of them would be able to go in after him. It was a matter of faith now, and that didn’t sit right with any of them. Tove was pacing impatiently. She had taken to trying to peer under the door, but there was nothing. Not even a flow of cold air, which added to the idea that there was some magic there. She was just about to go back to her pacing when a soft voice caught her ears, coming from the other side of the door.

“Help me”.

It was faint, but no less discernible for that, and it was definitely Talani. She shot upright. “Guys!” she called out. “It’s him!” her tone was desperate, and as their heads turned to look at her it was clear something was wrong.

“What was him?” asked Teclis.

“I heard his voice,” she cried “he needs help”.

“Talani’s asking for help?” Alf’s voice was incredulous. “Are you sure it was him then? He’d rather cut off his own arm than get someone else to lift a boulder off it for him”.

“I’ll admit that it seems very out of character” Gialli chimed in. “Might it not be some magic of the door, a trap of sorts?”

“What is wrong with you?” she asked, the pitch of her voice rising with panic. “He needs our help!”

“Come on,” said Reg “when has Talani ever asked for help?”

“Once” Tove replied. She delivered that line with complete finality and authority. No more information was offered, and none requested.

“If we open that door, how the hell are we going to close it again?” asked Alf. “Look at Teclis: if we hadn’t had Talani to pull him off, he’d still be stuck to that door, and we’d all have frozen to death”.

“Well if we open the door, we’ll have Talani to help close it, won’t we?” Tove shot back with the lecturing tone of someone explaining a very simple concept to a very stupid person. “And if we don’t open it, then he’ll die, and we’ll have no way of solving the puzzle, ever”.

A few looks were exchanged between the group, ones of fear, reluctance, but ultimately acknowledgement. It was true that without Talani they’d have to find some other way of getting in, and nothing was presenting itself yet. But opening it on Tove’s word alone was a risk. It seemed like one they had to take though.

“Gialli, put Mersingmergr on the side that the door will open into, maybe it can stop it slamming against the wall”. Reg began issuing instructions in a crisp, precise tone. “Alf and Tove, you stand behind me ready to receive. I’m going to open the door and jump straight out of the way in case this is a trick, but you’ll have a bit more reaction time. Get moving!” They began shuffling into their positions. Teclis piped up.

“And what should I be doing?” he asked. Reg looked pointedly at his hands.

“Hoping you won’t be needed” he replied. “Now everyone get ready”.

With that proclamation, he stepped up, putting his palm on the handle of the door. It was perfectly warm, betraying nothing of the wastes behind. Mersingmergr was stood to the side. If the door blew open suddenly, it would be between the door and wall, allowing them to push the door back from their side, instead of using the handle that had stolen Teclis’ skin.

“Ready everyone?” asked Reg. There was a chorus of affirmations. “Three… two.. one”. He unlatched the door, and pulled gently, before diving acrobatically of the way of whatever there might be behind.

Immediately, a savage wind cannoned out of the ‘room’, blasting the door open against Mersingmergr’s antlers. Tove and Alf were facing the full blast of the wind, and as sturdy as they felt normally, they immediately felt as if they had frozen solid. Nothing rushed out of the door aside from the wind, but it was still a good thing that Reg had moved aside. The catatonic form of Talani, which had been slumped on its knees against the door on the far side, fell with a dull thud onto the stone floor. Tove’s body flooded with adrenaline, and she rushed forward.

“Talani!” There was no response. “All of you, help me, we need to drag him out of the doorway”. The others who could rushed forwards. Putting their hands anywhere they could get purchase, they dragged him away from the door. His entire body was like a frozen stone, cold, grey, and seemingly lifeless.

They pulled him far enough that he wouldn’t block the door, and then the next challenge began. Closing it again before they froze. The assembled mass of them ran around behind the door. Somehow, they were slightly isolated from the wind swirling in the chamber, but still as cold as Skaði’s bra. With the five of them plus Mersingmergr all finding a way to push, the door began to move. Inch by torturous, frozen inch it shifted, until there was a final resounding clang. The wind died down immediately, and there was a still silence.

Alf and Tove moved to Talani’s side, and just about managed to roll him on his back. Alf pressed his face close.

“He’s breathing” he proclaimed “but barely”.

“Then he’ll live” replied Tove. It was an instruction as much as an assertion. For his part Alf just shrugged and trusted her judgement. The others looked doubtful. “He’s somewhere warm now, so he won’t get worse” she assuaged their apparent concern, and hers “his people deal with cold as a matter of life. He’ll be fine, just… asleep for a while”.

“That’s good news then” said Gialli. “It would be a crying shame to lose someone so accomplished”

“Well today’s just full of good news then” came the voice of Reg, who had wandered over to the altar. “We seem to be down another one”.

They looked over to him, and he gestured grandiosely at Hel’s carving, which had now lit up as well.

“So” Reg continued “which one next?”