From Death to Valhalla (The Last Einherjar Book 1)

by Randall P. Fitzgerald

  “You could have killed him!” Tove screamed.

  Erik heard the sword drop before he was able to turn himself over. When he managed it, he saw Göll rushing toward the edge of the forest. He rolled himself off of Tove’s legs and sat on the dirt. Tove stood up, moving to his back.

  “Are you alright? Was anything broken?”

  Erik laughed, but it hurt more than he was excepting and he ended up groaning more than anything else. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He pulled himself to his feet. “I should probably go talk to her.”

  “Talk?!” Tove was incensed by the suggestion. “She nearly just split you in half. And she meant to kill me.”

  All he could do was sigh. “I know.” He did his best to show her a reassuring smile. “But I don’t think she meant it.”

  “You can only be so naive!”

  He laughed. “That sounds like a challenge.” He paused, thinking about what to do exactly. “Look, can you, eh…” He hesitated to ask. “Can you cook something? I’m pretty hungry and I have a feeling I should eat before afternoon training.”

  “Why would you train with her again?”

  The picture of Tove pulling her dying body across the floor of the shop in Lofgrund flashed through his mind. He shook it away. “I have to. You’re just mad right now, but you know I’m right so… just… lunch. Please.”

  She nodded, frustrated, and walked toward the house. “If she kills you, I’m not sitting by your bedside.”

  “Well, I’m sleeping on the floor so you won’t have to.”

  She didn’t laugh, but Erik chuckled at it anyway. When she was inside Völundr’s house, he turned and started limping toward the edge of the woods. He’d made it only a few feet in when Göll came rushing up to him.

  “Why would you leave? It’s dangerous here.”

  He had to laugh. “So, you ran off not expecting to be followed?”

  She turned her head away. “I’ve done something unforgivable to you. To… To Tove.” There was true sadness in the way Göll carried herself. It was subtle, but Erik was convinced he wasn’t wrong.

  “I don’t think she’s the one who got hit with the sword.”

  “But it was meant for her.”

  Erik sighed, failing to lighten the situation, knowing he shouldn’t have tried. “Why did you swing at her?”

  Göll looked at him, a hint of desperation in her voice. “We have little time. They…” She strained, but did not finish the thought. “We have little time.” She frowned at him, her eyes begging him to understand.

  “I know. I had that feeling without you saying anything.” He chuckled, putting a hand on her arm. “I mean, I’m a dim guy, but I get the general idea. Plus, I like Völundr so I’d hate to see anyone come wreck his place up.” He turned around. “I’m going to go eat lunch. It’d be weird if you weren’t there staring at me.” He looked back. “You coming?”

  She followed Erik out of the woods and back to the house without saying anything further. Tove left the food on the cook top when Erik came back, rushing over to him and throwing an angry glance at Göll.

  “Are you sure nothing was broken?” Tove pulled up his shirt and Erik moved to pull it back down, but just squawked in pain.

  “Nothing’s broken, Jesus. Stop trying to check out my sweet body.”

  “Your bird chest, you mean.” Tove mussed his thickening beard. “At least you look something like a man elsewhere.” She let his shirt drop and walked back to her cooking. “Fine.”

  “I am sorry for what I’ve done.” Göll’s words were directed at Tove. A fact which caught the girl entirely off guard.

  “W-what? You’re talking to me?”

  “I am.”

  Tove looked to Erik. He just offered her a half-hearted shrug.

  “I… accept your apology.”

  Göll turned away from Tove, going back to her normal stance, more or less facing Erik at all times when he wasn’t sleeping. Tove finished cooking in silence as well. It was hard not to be amused at the awkward silence that a moment’s consideration had brought into the room.

  Erik’s wounds had healed enough by the time he was done eating lunch that continuing would be easy enough, even if Göll kept up her abuse. They returned to the yard, Tove back to the side of the house with a sword to mimic the training.

  Göll came to him before beginning. “I cannot be easy on you.”

  “Hey, just don’t panic. And tell me whatever you can. It’s not like I want to be on the other end of a sword again. I can take it.” He put on a cocky grin. “And besides, pretty soon, I’ll figure it out and you’ll be the one in trouble.”

  She shook her head dismissively and walked to her spot, charging again. The sword slapped against him and Erik grunted. As much as he prepared himself, it wasn’t something he could call enjoyable. It was only six or seven rounds of attacks later that the door to Völundr’s workshop opened and he came out, complaining.

  “Constant noise from you insufferable bunch.” He tossed some pieces of metal held at the ends by long leather straps. “You’ll bother me the better part of a decade trying to teach him to use that sword, Göll.” Völundr pointed at the things he’d left on the ground as he walked past them. “Try those. They’ll suit him better.” Völundr yawned. “I’ll be having a shit, a meal, and a long nap. Try to keep your noise mindful of my delicate needs.” He chuckled and disappeared into the house.

  Erik walked to the straps, picking them up. Göll stayed in the spot she always began from. He held them up toward her. “These are mine?”

  “They seem to be.” She narrowed her eyes at the strange items. “It is rare for him to forge something for someone, though I’ve never seen its like.”

  Erik turned the pieces over in his hand. The leather was wide but thin, with a steel buckle at one end that looked to be angled wrong. The main portion was a flat piece of steel, etched as the magic sword had been. There were small curved protrusions spaced along it. He rolled it over in his hand and the steel landed flat against his palm, the protrusions fitting perfectly between his fingers. It was a steel grip and leather wraps to hold it to him. He sat down with them, working the first wrap around his hand. It buckled at an angle, the leather forming a point at the bottom, mid-way up his arm. He put the other on and stood up.

  “What good is a bit of metal on the inside of my hand?” Erik walked back to his place on the opposite side of the clearing from Göll. “I’m not supposed to use the sword, right? Just my fists?”

  He balled his fists around the metal for the first time and immediately felt the power that had been so long at the edge of his mind flow in like the rush of a broken dam. His eyes widened and found Göll across the yard. He was smiling in amazement.

  “It’s some kind of—”

  Göll’s expression changed to one of terror and confusion. She dropped the practice sword and a familiar hot glow grew out of her hand. The spear sizzled in the air and Tove screamed for him to run. It was too late, Göll was bearing down on him, her eyes fixed on his face.

  Erik tensed, the sound of her hissing wings catching in his ears. But she was clear to him, not a blur. He could see the dirt fly from where she took off as if it was stuck in the air. He took a deep breath and stepped to the side as the tip of the spear came by him. He planted his fist in her ribs and Göll whipped away from him, crumpling under the force of the blow. He hadn’t thought he’d swung very hard, but her tumbling body told him otherwise.

  The valkyrie crashed through two barrels of collected rainwater, just missing the edge of Völundr’s workshop. She stopped against a third and sat there a moment, motionless. Erik started toward her until he saw her jaw clenched. She stood, looking at him in disbelief. A single word came out of her mouth, almost an accusation.

  “Berserker.”

  chapter|22

  Göll backed away from him,
shaking her head in disbelief. “No, no. It cannot be.”

  Erik took a step toward her. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. Are you okay?”

  Göll turned, still shaking her head, and a hiss let out from her back as she flew off toward the north. She was gone before he could even start to run after her. Erik turned back to Tove.

  “Tell Völundr what happened. I’m—”

  The door to the house opened with Völundr standing in the frame. “No sense going after her.”

  “But—”

  “Come eat. I’ll tell you something good if you do. Time someone did, anyway.”

  Erik looked back toward the direction Göll had flown off.

  Völundr clapped his hands to pull Erik’s attention back to the house. “She won’t go anywhere too far off. Trust me on that, at least. Now,” Völundr turned, “come eat.”

  Tove came over to him as Erik was unbuckling the wraps to remove them from his hands. She looked at the work Völundr had made.

  “Are you sure you don’t wish to follow her?”

  Erik answered her without looking, focused on removing the wraps. “I want to.” He sighed. “But Völundr knows things, and I’d better know them too, if I’m planning to go talk to Göll.”

  Tove followed him back to the house and Erik entered, taking a seat facing the door, leaving it open. If she came back to the yard he wanted to see. He laid the grips across his legs, keeping a nervous hand on them. Völundr looked briefly at the open door, shrugged, and then sat plates in front of the two already at his table before preparing a plate for himself. He sat down, casually, immediately taking a large bite of the mess he’d cooked.

  He chewed noisily, Erik staring at him intently the whole time. As much as screaming questions at Völundr might have been what felt important, waiting was the only real option.

  Völundr swallowed hard, coughing. “I really ought to find a new wife.” He chuckled. “Even a comely boy who can cook. Wouldn’t be so much different from her.” A nod at Tove brought on immediate complaints.

  “I am not—! I am a full-grown woman.”

  He ignored the complaint and looked over at Erik. “She can cook, can she?”

  Erik smiled, in spite of himself. “She’s not a housewife.”

  “I’m not! At least one of you knows proper respect.”

  Völundr laughed. “Good. I was worried Göll’s tantrum would sour the mood. I’ve had enough of sullen faces in my time.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Hand me the grips.”

  Erik pulled them up and tossed them across the table. Völundr caught them, turning them over in his hands.

  “Held up well enough.” He leaned in to inspect them more closely. “What do you know of valkyries, Erik?”

  “Not much. They pick who goes to Valhalla. And apparently, the others try to kill whoever gets picked.”

  Völundr nodded, moving his attention to the second grip. “That’s the barest part of it. Do you know the reason why they attack?”

  “No. Göll wasn’t very forthcoming.”

  Völundr huffed in amusement. “She wouldn’t be. Not her fault, that sort of thing.” He tossed the grips onto the middle of the table. “You’ve put a lot of strain on those already. Should hold well enough, but you’ll want a smith who understands what I’ve done.” He ate another forkful of food. “The trial, the path from death to Valhalla, you might be thinking of it as a sort of test for the chosen.”

  Erik nodded. “I had been.”

  “Most do. But you aren’t the only one being tested. A valkyrie’s place in Odin’s eyes is built from how useful she can be to him and little else. The weakest, they bring ale to the slain or other menial tasks. Servants, mocked by the others, you understand.”

  “They called her that on Earth… Midgard, I mean. Ale-bearer.”

  “And so she is,” Völundr said through a mouth full with food. “Most of the rest have made themselves happy in their low status and take no chosen. Göll… she’s never given up.”

  Erik took the grips, putting them back in his lap. “Great, but why would she run away from me?”

  “I was getting there, impatient prick.” Völundr laughed. “I like you. Still, understand that to understand this. The ale-bearers are mocked, toyed with. And you are a berserker. And you shouldn’t be here. And she knows it.”

  Erik’s eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t be here? A berserker just… they lose their minds in battle. Punch really hard?”

  “Maybe the Saxons said as much, but as most things, they misunderstood.” Völundr rose from his seat. “But I’ve lost interest. Ask your valkyrie, she should be able to say that much. I’ll sleep now.”

  Erik shot up but Völundr held up a finger before he could say a word.

  “So long as my good will is in your hand and in your belly, I’d tell you not to ask too much.” Völundr smiled. “It’s only polite.”

  The smith wandered off to his bedroom, shutting the door. Erik turned to Tove.

  “Why shouldn’t I be here?”

  Tove looked as confused as he had. “I have never met a berserker. Only one warrior came through Kvernes, and my town in life was small and not given to fighting.”

  Erik clicked his tongue, annoyed, though not sure at who, exactly. He picked up the grips and began wrapping them around his fists.

  “I’m going to find her.”

  “I’ll go as well.”

  Erik nodded. “Of course, we’re a warband.”

  She pushed the plate of food away and ran outside ahead of him. When Erik went out, he found her looking through the barrel for any swords that would be sharp enough to do anything with. She found one, though it was nearly too large for her.

  “You sure you’ll be alright with that?”

  She looked at the sword as she came closer. “Better than nothing.”

  “Can’t argue with that. Hopefully we’re not going far. She came to me earlier.”

  Erik started jogging toward the north, exiting the clearing with Tove just behind him. The woods were thick and there were only a few hours of sun left. Erik genuinely started to worry when Göll did not immediately come to him like she had before. Were there reasons behind it? Had she decided to abandon him? What would that mean for him? Maybe she would come and attack him. It was a bitter thought but not one that he could let leave his mind. Erik cursed Völundr for leaving him with so little information. There was no way of knowing what being a berserker meant here, not unless Göll would tell him. The smith had seemed unconcerned that they would go after her. Maybe he had lost interest in Erik remaining alive now that the grips were completed. His thoughts were dark and he had no reason to question any of them.

  They had walked what felt like nearly a mile when small trees along the rough trail ahead of them were felled. Erik looked at the stumps as he stepped over the first of them. It had been sheared off smoothly and the top was singed black.

  “Well, she was definitely through this way.” Tove looked at the stumps. “I’m not sure how I feel seeing this, Erik.”

  “Me either.” There were scratches on the trees deeper into the forest, deep cuts burned into the wood. “I hope she’s calmed down by the time we find her.”

  The felled trees eventually stopped, replaced by divots in the ground, cut by the same weapon. There were large squares pounded around them.

  “Why’s she so pissed off?” Erik mumbled the words to himself, marveling at the destruction.

  The signs of violence disappeared and they were still making their way slowly along the same trail. Erik began to worry she’d flown up and out of the forest entirely. There was still time to turn back and make it to Völundr’s by nightfall and they were well away from safety in the woods, if Göll had given him the truth before. He was at the edge of convincing himself to turn bac
k when he heard a distant, rhythmic thundering. It stopped for a few seconds and then came on again.

  Erik started running toward it, making sure not to let Tove fall behind. He wanted to squeeze the grips and run as fast as the power would let him, but he couldn’t. If Göll was fighting other valkyries as she’d done before, Tove would definitely suffer in his absence. He heard the sound of splashing water and saw a small lake through the trees, a waterfall along the north edge of it. He waited in the trees until he saw that only Göll was there, striking the ground with her fists, sending the earth under them shaking with each blow.

  “Wait here.” Erik held a hand up to Tove as he started off forward.

  He came into the clearing, his fists lightly wrapped around the grips, not sure if he would need them.

  She stood up, looking at him and screamed, her face in anguish. “What are you? Who? Are you another of their tricks?” She stomped the ground, sending dirt flying. “Have you come to laugh? To mock me?”

  Erik held his hands up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Göll. I’m just… you saw how I lived.”

  She grabbed at her blonde hair with her hands, pacing back and forth. “Then there is some mockery. They… they have some plan. They will all laugh again. ‘Oh, a berserker? You should have known, silly Göll. And yet you brought him here. No doubt he is unworthy.’” She screamed at the sky. “I can hear them now! Come out, all of you! I’m on to your tricks.”

  Erik walked closer to her. “Göll, look at me. I don’t understand.”

  She looked at him, her eyes narrowing and her lips tightening. “A berserker cannot be. Not in Helheim.” She went back to pacing.

  “Why not?”

  She walked up to him, looking into his eyes, her voice serious and her breath heavy. “A berserker is blessed by his god. The power flows only when their god wills it.”

  “So… my power…”

  She gritted her teeth, calming herself as much as she could. “A god has granted you their boon. And surely, Odin will not allow one with such a boon into his hall. On a power not earned?!”