It was a city of squat, massive castles and forts, built with antediluvian rudeness. The giant stone blocks were overgrown with green, hideous moss. Our cell was in the basement level of the most enormous of the castles, a high, oblong structure.
Even in daylight, the city was filled by chill, foggy mists from the streaming morasses below. From our window I could see scores of longships moored in the river which wound past Jotunheim's northern wall. Hosts of Jotuns were busy on ships and shore. Warriors and thralls were carrying stacks of weapons, fitting new oars and masts, all in a bustle of hurried activity. Through the ancient, somber city trotted squads of hastening warriors, hurrying men and women. Everyone was feverishly engaged in mysterious preparations.
"Captives in Jotunheim," I moaned. "And Loki—"
"He is here, too," Frey said unhappily. "In this palace, which belongs to Utgar, he directs the preparations you see. Those are the preparations for the last great attack on Asgard."
Freya, holding my arm, looked up at me with blue eyes that were almost black with dread.
"The Jotuns went mad when Loki arrived with Utgar, Hel, you and Frey," she said. "They cry that now at last shall they wipe the Aesir from existence."
"Ragnarok, the final struggle, draws near," Frey declared solemnly. "Aye, this is the struggle that we Aesir knew must come if ever Loki were freed."
"But Odin and the Aesir will not yield!" I cried. "They will throw back Loki and the Jotuns!"
"I pray the fates that it be so," Frey said. "But the Jotuns outnumber us how more greatly than before. With Loki and his evil science, Fenris and Iormungandr fighting on their side, we have reason to fear for Asgard. But if perish we must, the Jotuns and Loki shall perish with us. That I know."
"Can't we sneak out of here and get back to Asgard?" I asked urgently.