Sigyn's Revenge: Norse Mythology Adventures, #1

By C. Kjaer L.

A thousand years ago the gods bound Loki and left him to rot in a cave in Midgard. His only company was the snake above his head, dripping venom onto him, and his loyal wife who stayed by his side to catch venomous drops in a stone bowl.

That is how the story goes - but the gods forgot one thing in their brilliant plan to stops Loki's tricks. They forgot about Sigyn. A thousand years later Sigyn has had enough. Odin killed her sons, tortured her husband, and forgot about her. Now he needs to pay for his sins.

Sigyn's Revenge is about the forgotten coming back into their own right, about those painted as villains fighting back against opression, and, at it's core, about love and family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. Kjaer L.
• Release date: Aug 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393834465

C. Kjaer L.

Carina views fiction as a way of dealing with reality and will write any story that chooses her, regardless of genre. Therefore, you might see anything from Thrillers to Fantasy in her collection, but common for all will be a desire to stay true to the story and the characters who live in it.  When she's not writing, Carina is sewing old fashioned skirts or playing with the dog in the ever changing Danish weather. 

Book preview

Chapter 1 - A prison in a cave

The cave is dark and gloomy, with only a tiny glimmer of natural light sneaking in, just enough to be able to almost see. Outside the sea rushes, cashing against the tall cliff walls in deafening clashes that throws the taste of salt into the air and leaves everything constantly feeling damp. The cave walls are rough, the sun never quite reaches the inmost depths of the cave, and the only sound there is, is the echo of the monstrous sea outside.

In the middle of the cave lies a naked man, tied to the walls of the cave by long, thin chains. He looks old. His hair is grey, his face is wrinkled, his hands are boney and his fingers limp, but it’s more than that. It’s not his body or his face as much as it is him. There is no hope left in his eyes, no life left in his hands, no strength in his legs. He is not just old, he is all but dead inside.

Next to him stands a woman. She has long, white hair which falls in a braid down her back. But the braid is messy, with loose strands here and there, and yet the hairs seem to have been bent into shape, as if it has been years since the braid has been loosened. Her clothes are grey and dusty, as if she hasn’t moved in ages. Her arms are stretched up, holding a bowl above the man’s head. A soft, dripping sound echoes around the cave as a new drop lands in the bowl. Perched on a shelf above the man lies a giant snake, its venom dripping slowly, but steadily, into the bowl. The sound of the drip is hollow, as if the bowl is almost full.

The chained-up man is Loki, the Jotun blood brother of Odin of Asgard, chained up and tortured for his involvement in the death of Baldur, Odin’s most beloved son. The woman is Sigyn, Loki’s wife, who has stood by him, holding the bowl to catch the venom, for a thousand years - or however long it has been, no one quite knows.

An earthshattering howl resonates within the cave walls. Sigyn has lowered her bowl and is stepping away from her husband. The myth states that every once in a while, she has to leave the cave to empty out the bowl before it overflows. In theory, a simple task, but as the ground shakes and a scream so seared with pain and agony echoes in the cave walls, one has to wonder if the task really is so simple after all. The earth rumbles and Loki’s cries become like a sea of pain washing over and engulfing everything it touches. For a thousand years it has been like this, first the damp quiet of the cave, a hush so intense it feels almost like drowning, and then the shrieks, the screams, the tormented, choked sobs. They keep coming. Scream after scream, until the whole world seems nothing but the projected agony of the withering man in the cave, until the shrieks drown out even the crashing waves and paint the whole of existence in their horror red. And still Sigyn doesn’t come back. The earth keeps shaking, the screams wash over one another like a constant flood, and there is no end to it. How long can it take to empty a bowl? Certainly not this long. All sense of time is washed away by the shrieks. All there is left of it is long and soon too long. And then, finally, a shadow blocks out what little light the cave walls allow in. She is back. But when she steps into the cave one thing is clear: her hands are empty. She has no bowl of any kind with her.

But the shadow on the entrance stays, even as she enters. Never before has a shadow awoken such hope as now, and yet, it hesitates. For agonizing seconds, it waits at the entrance. Sigyn does not seem bothered by her husband’s shrieks. I suppose, after a thousand years, one shriek more or less doesn’t register.

A heavy footstep, and then another, carries the shadow down into the cave. Now is the time, it is certain, change is brewing.

The shadow turns out to be two men, both young and handsome, fit and athletic. The shorter one, Ian, looks about ready to pass out at the sounds coming from Loki, held up only by the steadying hand of the taller, ginger man, named Max. As soon as their eyes adjust to the dim light, as soon as the scene in front of them becomes clear, both men jump into action to remove the chains. In a matter of minutes all four chains are undone and tossed aside, and Loki is pulled off the stone that has been his bed since the day he was caught. The next drop of venom falls on the stone, and a hiss of smoke rises up.

Barbaric, Max mumbles, but even his quiet words are drowned out by the deafening silence, as if Loki’s screams have lost everyone their ability to hear. Even the crashing waves outside, so deafening before, seem mute now. For a moment that is all that matters. The quiet, the peace.

Loki, Sigyn says, her voice a mixture of commanding and worried. The seemingly half dead man raises his head just off the ground, but offers no other response. Time is short. She offers no other words of explanation, but Loki seems to understand her. He hold up a palm, as if to say just give me a moment to get my bearings again. Max looks to Ian with a raised eyebrow. Five minutes ago, a crazy old woman had come running up to them, begging them to help free her husband, promising even eternal youth as payment. They had thought her out of her mind, but had agreed to go with her, just in case someone really was in need of aid. But now, standing in a cave prison, with a man who responds to the name Loki... there is something eerie about those two, something that doesn’t quite fit, or maybe just something that doesn’t quite fit this world.

Is it possible, could it be, that they just freed the actual Loki, god of mischief?

Neither of the men speak a word of this out loud, but in the gloomy, damp cave, it seems not just possible, somehow it seems likely, seems true. Max quietly reaches out and takes Ian’s hand. Ian gives a squeeze, probably meant to reassure, but not doing much to relieve the gloom of