Skr lingr. Orcnéas. Fomoraig. He is Grimnir . . .

For over a century, he has tracked the dragon, Níðhöggr -- the Malice-Striker -- from the shores of Lake Vänern, across the Baltic Sea, through Russia, and down into the Mediterranean; he has hounded the wyrm from Old Muscovy to Messina. And finally, to the Eternal City -- to Rome, itself.

And in Rome, on a cold November night in 1347 AD, on the ruined steps of Old St. Peter's basilica, Grimnir's saga comes crashing to an end. A crossbow bolt, loosed in terror, slays him out of hand. It is a mundane finale to a life spent hip-deep in bloodshed and slaughter, surrounded by steel and savagery and the sorcery of the Elder World.

But Death is just the beginning . . .

Now, on the grim and misty isle of Nástrond, under the shadows of Yggðrasil, Grimnir is plunged headlong into the twisted Valhalla that is the afterlife of his people. Here, bloody in-fighting, schemes and betrayals are the order of the day. Grimnir is forced to contend with a cabal of witches, with giants and trolls who have never felt the light of Miðgarðr's moon, and with his own rapacious kin as he journeys beyond the shores of Nástrond to find answers. And with every death, Grimnir unravels another thread of a monstrous secret woven at the dawn of time -- one that will turn him from the pawn of unknown gods into the most powerful being in the Nine Worlds. And the most hunted.

For he, alone, holds the key to Ragnarök and the Doom of Odin . . .