“You say surely…”
Göll turned away from him and then back. “There… there has never been a berserker in this place. Hel would not allow it.” A look of realization. “Or it could be one of her schemes! How had I not suspected it?” She went back to pacing. “I should have run at her the moment I saw her.”
He went to Göll, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her around. “Calm down and let’s think through some things. You said something about feeling me? Right? Like, you can track me?”
She looked at him as if she’d had an epiphany that wasn’t altogether reassuring. “Yes, it is… I can feel you still. Stronger than I’ve ever known.” She put a hand over her heart. “It’s… why?”
Erik dropped his head, letting out a relieved sigh. “Okay.” He looked back up at her, taking his hands off her shoulders. “Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe I can still prove myself.”
She smiled. A real, complete, toothy smile. “I… It could be possible.” She looked at him. “I have never— all my chosen until now— I have never made it so far.”
She hugged him suddenly and Erik almost screamed, not having expected it. The hug was too tight and too long. She realized, pulling herself back and straightening back to her stoic norm, swallowing hard. It seemed almost mechanical, the smile disappearing from her face.
“I apologize for my outburst, chosen.”
He felt the metal in his palm twitch as she said the words, but bit his tongue, sure she would say nothing of value about her sudden change in demeanor.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got a long walk back.”
Göll nodded stiffly. “It is dangerous in these woods. We should return immediately.”
Erik agreed, heading back to the tree line to find Tove waiting where he’d left her. Göll walked along ahead of them and Tove turned with Erik as he passed, keeping her place beside him.
“It seemed to go well.”
Erik watched Göll’s back as she walked. “It went well, yeah.”
Tove watched his face, her own growing concerned. “Is something wrong?”
He gave a sideways smile, unsure what to say or whether to bother. “Nothing I can do anything about. I’ll tell you if that changes.”
They rejoined the trail, Göll walking farther in front than she normally did. He moved up to stand beside her.
“So what’s our plan?”
The valkyrie looked over at him, her face having softened a bit since leaving the lake. “We will leave in the morning, if there is nothing else you feel you need here.”
“Nope, I’m good.”
He looked at her, watching for any changes he could see, unsure what he even expected. Erik walked along beside Göll quietly for a short time. There was so much he wanted to say, but so little that he could.
“I’ll become worthy, Göll. I’ll do what I can.”
She looked at him, face impassive, and then returned her attention to the trail ahead of them.
“Good.”
chapter|23
The morning came around after a depressingly quiet night. Neither Tove nor Göll made much conversation and Völundr slept through the whole of it. It wasn’t so much that Erik wanted revelry around their exit from the blacksmith’s sanctuary. More, he wanted something to pull his mind away from the concerns of moving on. If Odin could destroy Tove utterly, the same could happen to him.
It wasn’t a welcome thought. For the first time, there was some weight in his position as one of the chosen.
Völundr rose well after the sun and woke Erik, urging him to come and eat breakfast. Göll was waiting outside the room and Tove woke up as the sound of clanging in the kitchen brought life into the small house.
“Leaving today, are you?” he asked as he lit the stove.
Erik put himself into a chair at the table in the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head. “Seems like it.”
Tove came and joined him at the table, looking much rougher than she normally did. She yawned absently, looking at nothing in particular with bleary eyes.
The ingredients went into the cold pan that Völundr had placed on the cook top. “Headed north?”
Göll left her place by the window and came to the table as the conversation picked up. “We will.”
Erik yawned, deciding in his boredom to push on Tove’s arm. “I guess it’s gonna get colder.”
“A silly question, maybe, but I don’t notice much in the way of warm clothing on you.”
“No, we had a pack,” Erik looked at Tove who shook her head. “Yeah, they took that in Lofgrund. So it’s just what we’re wearing.”
Völundr began to crush black pepper into the food, smelling his hand when he was done. He reeled back, a fit of sneezes coming out, one after another.
Erik doubled over laughing. “What did you think was going to happen?”
The smith stood, wiping his nose. “I enjoy the smell!”
“Hahaha! No wonder you live out here alone.”
Völundr stirred the food in the pan and served it onto plates. “The thanks I get for letting people into my home. Come out here, judge my cooking rituals. Used to be there was respect for a man…” He sat the plates down, took a seat, and looked across at Erik. “I’ve no more help to offer, berserker. I keep myself away from the cold anymore and there’s only enough furs for myself.”
Erik took a bite of the food, coughing almost immediately and then sneezing from the pepper. “Good god, how much pepper did you put in there?”
The smith laughed. “As much as I like!”
Tove coughed and sneezed as well. “It’s terrible!”
The complaints only made Völundr laugh all the more. He took a bite, coughing himself after he did. “There’s— kuh— a…” He sucked in a breath. “I may have overdone it a bit.” He grimaced, straightening himself up. “There’s a town to the north and the west. Göll may know it.” She nodded in affirmation. “They’ll have supplies.”
“But we have no money.” Tove looked at Erik.
Völundr stood up immediately.
“Your food’ll get cold,” Erik said, mockingly.
“If that makes it taste better, I’ll be glad to have it cold.”
Völundr went into his room, coming back with a small pouch, tossing it on the table. A half-dozen silver coins spilled out, the bag not nearly empty. Tove pulled the purse over, beginning a count of them.
Erik protested. “We can’t take that, man.”
Völundr returned to his seat, looking woefully at the food. He waved Erik’s complaint away without looking up. “I’ve no need for silver shaped into coins. And besides, no apprentice of mine goes unpaid.”
“But—”
Völundr turned his eyes up to Erik. “Enough modesty. A man takes his rewards, graciously or not.”
They talked and joked and finished the terrible breakfast. Erik was happy to have such a morning be the last one there. It was nearing mid-morning when they finally took their leave, following the trail toward the north. Völundr had gone back into his workshop rather than see them off with any sort of fanfare.
The grips were comfortable enough to wear through the day, to Erik’s surprise. He’d put them on just before leaving and almost forgot they were there within a few minutes of having done so. They moved north through the forest, passing the places where Göll had destroyed the trees, finding them all replenished. It was only midday when they came to the road that Völundr had mentioned. It trended toward the west for a time and then to the north, but the way was easy and well-worn. Erik could not imagine there were people moving down the road so often, but the trees had remade themselves so it was hardly something he could call himself entirely surprised by. The leaves began to disappear from the trees and the temperature dropped somewhat drastically over the ensuing hours. There was no mistaking that
they’d come to the edge of Winter.
The sun had already dipped low in the sky by the time they came to a town larger than Erik had expected along the road. It was perhaps twice the size of Kvernes, though the construction wasn’t nearly so advanced. There were earthen-walled longhouses scattered through the area, with wooden buildings and longhouses mixed in and no pattern to them at all. The buildings along the main road through the center of town formed a rough square around the widened road. It was the only stonework to be seen in the whole of the city as far as Erik could tell.
The buildings had signs at least, one labeled “Supplies” in utilitarian fashion with no ornamentation like many of the others. Erik pointed to it.
“Supplies. That’s definitely the first stop.”
“I agree,” Tove said, her voice edging toward annoyance. “This cold is unbearable.”
Erik started toward the door to the shop. “I doubt it gets better.”
Inside was a sallow-faced old man, sitting on a stool in the corner of a simple shop. The goods were all laid across tables. There was not much on offer but it was all clearly meant for people moving north. Just from the door Erik could see a selection of furs, bedrolls, crude picks and shovels, and packs. There were more things buried, no doubt, and items were placed under the tables as well.
Tove immediately set about grabbing a fur cloak and wrapping it around herself. Erik decided to go and talk to the old man, who looked at him bitterly as he approached.
“Headed north, are ye?” The man rolled his jaw as if he were chewing something. “No sense in it.” His eyes rolled over to Göll. “’Spec you got no choice in the matter though.” He snorted and then hacked phlegm clear of his throat. “What’ll ye be botherin’ me for?”
“I…” Erik felt awkward trying to ask anything considering the man’s attitude. “Is there anything we need? Anything you’d recommend.”
The codger hacked out a sarcastic laugh. “Recommend ye don’t go. Nothin’ good ever come from up that way. But since ye’ll have none of that, take whatever firewood ye can carry. No trees once yer deep enough.”
“Thanks.” Erik turned, grabbing a cloak as well before beginning to look through the rest of the store.
There were thicker clothes, some lined with fur. They were priced heavily, a silver each, but there was no sense in saving money if the man’s advice was true. Erik wondered about it.
“Göll, is there… how much do you know about Winter?”
“Very little. I’ve never had cause to go. There are no cities that I know of.”
“Aye, no cities.” The man joined in. “Only warbands and fools chasing death.”
That was good enough for Erik. Völundr had given them nearly thirty silver pieces and they spent all but eight on supplies. Both Erik and Tove were wearing packs, most of the goods in his so they could fill the other with food. They left, having changed clothes in the corner of the shop with the grudging approval of the owner.
A few doors down from the supply shop was a sign with two words on it, “Butcher” and “Eatery.” Erik pointed it out and Tove was happy to see it.
“Anything to be done with Völundr’s cooking.” She trotted off toward the building, pulling the door open well ahead of Göll and Erik arriving.
The shop was clean and well-lit, in spite of the lack of windows. It wasn’t nearly as humid inside as the supply shop had been either. A woman was already talking to Tove when Erik came in.
“The warband, is it?” The woman chuckled to herself as if not taking the idea seriously. She saw Göll and her expression shifted to something more grave if only for a brief second. “I see you’re headed north, then. Drop your packs, and have a seat.” She motioned them toward one of the three tables in the restaurant. “I know what it is you’ll need heading north.”
She followed them to the table where Erik and Tove dropped their packs. They took their seats, except Göll, and the woman looked to Erik.
“How much have you got?”
It was an odd question he thought, but not an unreasonable one. “Eight coins.”
“Silver?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled politely. “And you mean to use it all on food, drink, and a meal? With the three of you—”
“Only two.”
Her eyes flicked to Göll, who stood behind Erik, and then back. “Then you’ll have nearly a week’s worth.”
“Is that enough?”
“I couldn’t say. No one’s come back from Winter.”
Erik sighed, Göll offering nothing in the way of a confirmation. “Then we’ll hope it is. We’ll take whatever seems best.”
The woman smiled, standing. “I’ll bring the meal before we settle the payment.”
She disappeared into the back for a few minutes before returning with a thick stew of lamb and potatoes. It wasn’t particularly flavorful, but Erik couldn’t bring himself to complain after the breakfast he’d had to very literally choke down. Tove produced the coin and paid the woman. She brought them large mugs full of strong ale.
“This will be what you’ll have in the casks. It’s strong, but slower to freeze and warms the body.”
A large man with a full red beard brought out two small casks of the ale and nodded at them wordlessly before strapping the tiny wooden barrels to the sides of the packs. He said nothing and returned to the back room. The woman who had served them came back when they were nearly done with the meal and placed a number of wrapped cloth packs on the table, opening them up. There were root vegetables in three and two full of fresh meat. The last of the packs was filled with dried and cured meats.
“Are those all to your satisfaction? We take great pride in what we sell. I won’t have anyone head north with useless goods and our name attached to the sale.” The woman looked at him, her smile gone and an air of genuine concern in its place.
Tove stood and looked over the products on the table. “They’re as good as any I’ve seen grown, even in Spring.” She sounded amazed by her own assessment. “These are grown here?”
The woman gave a proud nod. “By the hands of people around. We share in the rewards of our effort.”
Erik looked over the meat himself. It was deeply colored. “What’s the meat?”
“Venison. The land is hard to work and there is little to sustain more than a few sheep. Most are used for wool, except those that come up lame or who grow too old.” She motioned a hand toward a plate of food. “The misfortune of a lamb is what allowed for the stew you eat now.”
“Lucky us.”
She nodded, smiling. “Very lucky indeed. Frigg must be watching over your journey to her husband’s great hall.”
He let out a sarcastic laugh. “I hope.”
The woman excused herself back to the rear of the shop and they finished their food. Tove filled her pack and they put them back on. The woman appeared to clear their plates.
“I hope Winter is not too harsh for you. And that the things you’ve bought here sustain you.”
Erik thanked her and they left back out into the street. The sky was shifting toward a darker blue.
“How much light left do you think?”
Tove looked up at the sky. “It seems to change the farther north we are. And we’ll be walking north again.”
“Well, not like we can just sleep in the road.”
They went back to walking, Tove complaining shortly after they’d passed the edge of town.
“How can they stand to live in such a place? This cold, always? At least winter passed in Midgard.”
“Hey, at least it’s not windy.” He half expected wind to start as soon as the words left his mouth, but thankfully none did. “It’ll get worse either way, so complain all you can while you’re still warm enough to do it.”
“I will!” She kicked at the dirt in the road. “Perfectly
good land where the cold doesn’t bite at you and they choose to live where they’ll near starve without constant effort.”
“Seems dumb to me too, but then I’m walking through what I guess is an icy wasteland just so I can spend forever fighting, or whatever happens.”
“Serving Odin will bring you glory,” Tove protested.
“Yeah, yeah. It doesn’t seem so bad, really. I guess on some level I like the idea, even. I’m just saying that it’s hard for me to call them stupid from where I’m standing.”
She let the subject go, still grumbling about the cold as they walked. There had been maybe an hour of viable light left and before long they were talking in nearly pitch black, except for the moon. An overcast rolled in, draining the last of the light from the world as the clouds thickened in front of the moon. Erik felt his way to the trees at the edge of the road and called for Tove and Göll. Tove worked her way to him, grabbing onto his arm when she found him and not letting go.
“What the fuck is this about? How can it be this dark?”
He heard Göll’s voice from the dark, not far from his side. “There is not light in Winter except the sun and the moon.”
“Information that would have been useful before the clouds showed up.” Erik sighed. “Göll, can you make a fire?”
“I can.”
He heard steps move away into the woods, so he made his way around the tree he’d managed to lean himself against and looked off into the dark, unable to see anything else. Tove’s grip on his arm tightened as the minutes passed.
“It’s fine, we’ll be fine.” He didn’t believe it and the noise of Göll’s work gathering things to build a fire only made him convinced that the valkyries would be on them, not even needing to make a noise. They could see him, and he could do nothing. He suddenly remembered they hadn’t slept since Völundr’s and that the packs would be left for the valkyries to destroy or someone to collect come the day.
The quick shuffling of wood against wood was calming somewhat and when a light sparked in the distance, Erik started toward it, keeping Tove’s hand in his. Göll was only a few dozen yards away, but the fire was well-established by the time they got to her. The wood seemed to burn nearly of its own will and it didn’t char nearly as quickly as Erik expected.
From Death to Valhalla (The Last Einherjar Book 1) Page 20
