by Matt Maxwell
Copyright Matt Maxwell 2011
Published at Smashwords by Highway 62
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Underneath the rocky soil of the Virgrid plain, the dead shuddered like winter’s seed. They fretted, lamenting the theft of that which they had died for.
The plain was an immovable patch of winter, stubborn in the face of the endless summer which had ruled Asgard and the nine worlds for the last hundred years. A century of sunlight had not been enough to banish the frigid winds that blew over the field. The ice was meltless, this chill undiminished. The cold gripped the very air, a brittle echo of the Fembleveter which had grasped the land before Summer came. Nobody ever visited this place, Asgardian, human, jotun or even the misbegotten trolls. Memory of the wounds inflicted was painful enough to drive away anyone who even remembered this place.