From Death to Valhalla (The Last Einherjar Book 1)

by Randall P. Fitzgerald

  They were in a dead run for as much of a mile as the terrain allowed, the sounds of the fight fading away from them. The runestone had tugged gently on his wrist the whole of it, pulling him back on course as he veered in the dark. Tove pulled on his coat again and he slowed, turning around.

  Göll came to him. “They will not follow.”

  “Why not?”

  “A valkyrie cannot refuse a fight. And the other warband struck at them. Flosi was not the only among their number with a magic weapon. They may fight well.”

  “So how long do we have?”

  “A… day.” She struggled even to get those words out and they came from a much more natural voice.

  “Doubt I can ask why.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “A day, okay. We can make it to this bridge if we keep going like Flosi planned.”

  “I have no complaint,” Tove offered.

  “Good. So let’s go.”

  So they did. Erik had hardly caught his breath from the running, but it was a drive now to see their way through to the end of the valley and out the other side before the valkyries could return. At least if they were to be mired in darkness, he wanted a place where the three of them could move well enough to stand something approaching a chance.

  Their path through the mountains began to climb and the hours passed by. The temperature became unbearably cold, Erik barely managing to keep his wits in the temperature at the front of the line. Göll kept herself at the back and Erik couldn’t think of a good reason for her not to. The valkyries would likely come from that direction if they meant to attack as soon as possible.

  The ridge finally flattened and the light began to stream back into the world. Erik breathed a sigh of relief that there was at least something to allow them to see beyond a few steps ahead. It had made the steady pace he tried to keep all the more difficult. He couldn’t help but feel impressed by the effortlessness with which Flosi’s band had moved through such similar terrain.

  Above them, the mountains began to trend slowly downward, as did the curve of the valley. The temperature began to rise even. When it would have been dark among the mountains, the sun still had hours left in the sky and Erik was even considering removing the furs he wore. He began to grow nervous, worrying they’d been sent south without him realizing. Calming, he took stock of things. The sun was still on the correct side of the sky and the stone had not changed its direction.

  A few sharp declines brought them to the edge of a snowy forest, the stone urging them through it. They followed, the sun seeming to slow in the sky the deeper into the wood they went. Finally, they came out the far side.

  Below was a lush valley and at its far end, the glittering gold roof over a massive bridge stretching across a gorge. The north end was fed by a waterfall. Around the end of the bridge on their side of the gorge was a large city, twice the size of Lofgrund, at least, and an enormous stone keep sat at the entrance to the bridge itself. Even outside the walls proper, there was a small city of what looked like wooden homes and shops, smoke coming from many of the chimneys.

  The temperature rose rapidly as they descended, warming to near how he remembered the air in Kvernes being. He stripped off the overcoat, turning to Göll. “Will we need this from here?”

  Göll shook her head and Erik tossed it aside. Tove did the same. Before long they made it to flat land and started toward Gjallarbrú. It was still dusk when they came to the outskirts of the city outside the walls, though the light was fading. Gas lamps were nearly everywhere along the main street, however, even out this far. There were cobbled streets and, even with dozens of people around, plenty of room for them to move. There was a deep comfort for Erik in being around people again. Tove seemed to share his feeling, coming up beside him.

  Tove sniffed at the air. “There’s food.”

  “I know. I can smell it.” He sighed. “We got any coin?”

  Tove looked up at him, pouting as though she’d just remembered. “Please, Erik. We cannot eat that frozen meat again.”

  “So we go rob someone?”

  She looked around. “There may be someone willing—”

  “You! You three!” A guard was running toward them wearing heavy armor. He trotted to a stop, catching his breath. “Modgudr sends her regards. She has been expecting your arrival and welcomes you to Gjallarbrú.” He turned around, looking over his shoulder. “If you would follow me, she has requested your presence at the Grand Keep.”

  chapter|28

  The guard walked stiffly ahead of them. It looked to Erik that he was trying his best to do a parade march by himself. People along the street stopped and watched as he went by with the curious trio behind him. Mostly, they stared at Göll, not bothering to pay much attention to Erik or Tove.

  They approached the gate, finding it guarded by a half dozen men who snickered at the guard who was escorting them. That was the end of the parade march, their escort slinking away as a larger man with a full beard approached from behind the line of guards.

  “Welcome, chosen. Or, if you’ve made it so far, it makes only good sense to call you einherjar.” A chuckle rolled out like lazy thunder. “We have been expecting you. And,” his eyes narrowed as he looked Göll over, “your valkyrie. I apologize, I do not recognize her face.” He laughed again. “Though I have manned this wall for ages and it has been so long since any have been chosen.” He scanned over Tove bringing his attention back to Erik. “I am called Wilhelm Haftorson, lead guard of this south gate. We are pleased to have you among us. Might I ask for introductions?”

  “Sure. I’m Haki Erik Styrsson.” He pointed a thumb at Göll, “Göll,” and a thumb at Tove, “Tove.”

  Wilhelm nodded, looking them over. “A fine name for a fine man. You are welcomed to Gjallarbrú. Men!”

  Erik tensed until he realized the men were issuing a salute to him. Wilhelm spun on his heel after they’d saluted.

  “This way.”

  They followed, the men watching him as he walked by. They looked at him with eyes he hadn’t seen on anyone since he’d arrived in Helheim, especially not anyone who was aware he was one of the chosen. They whispered about him, but with tones of reverence and nods of admiration. Wilhelm led them through a door beside the main gates and into the guardhouse inside of the wall. The interior was stone, lit with oil lamps, and simply adorned. The quality of the furniture was nicer than he’d seen in Lofgrund by a good measure. They did not stop in the room, being led up a few flights of stairs and ushered into a room that Erik had not expected existed in all of Helheim. It was a plush room with polished marble floors and velvet-lined furniture. The walls were still stone, but they were polished flat and adorned with pieces of art. There were even glass windows along the wall facing south.

  Wilhelm entered, moving to the side of the door and putting an arm out to signal that they should enter. “I hope it is of great comfort to you after your journey.”

  The line was clearly not one of his own, some rehearsed thing he was meant to say to important people. Erik entered first with Göll and Tove close behind him. Göll was expectedly quiet, but Tove was as well, uncharacteristically so.

  Wilhelm straightened up, standing in the door frame. “Someone will be along shortly with things to eat. I apologize that it will only be something meant to tide you, but a custodian should be along soon. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to call for one of my men. And if they cannot satisfy you, call for me.” Wilhelm’s face turned serious and the air of rehearsed formality fell away. “Haki, I am done a great honor that you are in my care, for however short a time. And I have heard tales of the journey north. No harm will come to you here, on my honor as a man.”

  Erik was taken aback by the sincerity of the man across from him. “Thanks. I’ll put my trust in you, then.”

  “You honor me.” Wilhelm bowed his head and turned, pulling the door shut as he went.
<
br />   Erik couldn’t help but listen to see if it had been locked and a few seconds after, he went to try the handle. It was open and swung freely. No one guarded them in the hall. He came back into the room, Tove taking a tentative step toward him.

  “Is this some trick?”

  “It doesn’t really seem like one,” he said. “If it is, I’m not sure why they’d bother putting us in a room with windows and a valkyrie.”

  Erik went to one of the four couches in the room, taking a seat and telling himself it was possibly fine to relax. His mind was not listening to the suggestion. Tove began exploring the room. There were tables with runners along them and drawers, none of which contained anything. A writing desk in the far corner was stocked with paper, a quill, and ink. She held them up.

  “What are these?”

  Erik turned, laughing when he saw what she was holding. “They’re for writing.”

  She looked at the implements in her hand, unconvinced. “How?”

  He stood up from the couch and walked over, placing the paper on the table. “Now, I don’t really know how to use this kind of pen…” He opened the ink, dipping the quill in. He dragged it as gently as he could across the paper and wrote his name. It was the first thing not written in runes he’d seen in what felt like forever.

  “What are those shapes?”

  Erik cocked his head to the side, making sure he’d written it properly. Whatever let him read runes and understand Göll didn’t seem to work the other way. “They’re letters. Not runic ones.” He held the paper up, pointing it at Göll. “Göll, hey! Can you read this?”

  She looked at the paper for a moment. “I know the letters of Midgard’s southmen. It is your name.”

  He turned back to Tove who looked at the paper with intense curiosity. She dipped the pen and was about to put it on the paper when Erik stopped her.

  “Okay, be gentle. If we break it, they might stop being so nice.”

  Tove nodded, pulling the rough shape of runes across the paper, spelling her own name. She smiled, pleased with herself. “Why do they not have this in Kvernes? Fools, I told you. Idiots.” She shook her head, growing annoyed with the people she’d left behind. “All they’ve done is sit there drinking their ale and growing fat and worthless.” She held up the paper. “This… this is amazing.” She looked at Erik, smiling. “I was right to choose you, as Göll did.”

  He laughed. “Is that what happened? You chose me?”

  She nodded, hugging the paper to her body. “I did. And you should praise me for choosing so well.”

  “Ha! Good work, then. Seeing my enormous inherent value.”

  Tove went back to scratching runes on the paper and Erik returned to the couch. “Will you teach me your letters one day, Erik?”

  “Sure. I can probably remember all of them.”

  A knock came at the door and Tove dropped the pen, putting her hand to her sword. Erik closed his hands lightly around the grips.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened revealing a young-looking guard. He came in holding a small tray and took it to the nearest table. He stood stark upright, placing a fist at a right angle across his stomach as the men in Lofgrund had done. It made Erik tense, but the guard started talking.

  “I have a selection of things for you to enjoy. They are-are-are on the plate. A kth—” He bit his tongue. The boy winced, doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with anyone in the room. He took a deep breath. “I will return with a selection of wine shortly I apologize for my mistakes please do not look poorly on our guard as a result.”

  He had said it all as one long sentence and quickly turned, fleeing the room. Outside the door, he heard the snickering of what must have been a few other guards. Erik rose, walking to the tray. Tove had run to it more than walked and arrived at nearly the same time as he did, pushing him out of the way. She stopped, staring down at the food on the plate.

  “What is it?”

  Erik looked over her shoulder. It was foie gras, seared and put on tiny crusts of bread. They were hors d’oeuvres, there were no two ways about it.

  “It’s duck liver, sort of.”

  She picked it up, leaving the tiny crust of bread behind. “It doesn’t look like any liver I’ve seen.” She popped it into her mouth, her eyes widening. “What is this? It is not liver! It… it’s… some kind of meat… butter.”

  “Haha, yeah. That’s pretty much right.” He picked one up and ate it. It was well-cooked and smooth.

  Tove slapped at his arm, as if remembering something. “And the lights on the streets. Were they oil lamps? All of them?”

  Erik had heard the gas hissing into them and knew they must have been fed by pipes. He tried explaining it to Tove but the ideas were far too foreign for such a cursory explanation. He couldn’t offer answers for some of the deeper aspects anyway, so he was happy that she forgot the conversation to busy herself with food. The wine came and before they had a chance to drink any of it, there was another knock on the door. It opened and a small man with a square face came in.

  “Greetings, einherjar.” The man bowed at the waist, arm across his stomach as others had done. It occurred to Erik that it was how one might hold a shield. “Which of your names would you prefer you were called?”

  “Erik’s fine.”

  “Then, Erik the Chosen, if you would follow me.”

  The sudden addition of a title was odd, but Erik decided not to question it. He followed along and the man led them out of the room inside the gatehouse and toward the north.

  “So where are we going? What should I call you?”

  “I am a custodian. You may call me Custodian as a name would be beyond my station. Please keep close.”

  He hadn’t answered the first question and his answer to the second wasn’t one he had expected. The man leading them was well-dressed and moved with distinct purpose. His pace wasn’t too fast, but it was brisk.

  “This is the residential district. Mostly homes, you see. There is no crime among our people and very few leave.”

  “Uh, great?”

  “Modgudr takes their needs into account and sees to the problems as they arise. Hel, glorious though her name is to hear, cares little for things which occur here. That is why she has given Modgudr the unenviable task of seeing to those who chose to spend their time here.” They were out of the residential area and the man held an arm out to the right side of the street. “This area is replete with shops, carrying every good a body could desire at reasonable prices.”

  This was odd. There was no other way to see it. Erik felt as if he was going to be sold a small home in the city or invited to join the local government.

  “I guess the shops don’t have any crime either?”

  The custodian ignored the statement, continuing on.

  “This is the first of our four squares.” He motioned to the left. “The statue is of Hel in her glory. She looks as splendid as marble is able to capture.” They passed the square and another hand came out. “The entertainment district. Brothels and alehouses and games of chance. All the spices of life kept in a convenient area.”

  They passed through the district again, into an enormous square with a statue of Hel twice as large as the other. She was flanked by what Erik swore was a statue of Vár and a third statue, larger than Vár.

  “And finally, the Grand Square. Home to the Grand Keep and all the various festivals that Modgudr provides that the people might know their blessings.”

  Across the square was a set of stone doors that could have easily fit ten men through abreast. It was guarded by dozens of armed guards. They were arrayed around the square and the custodian was walking toward them.

  “And those giant doors?”

  The question was again ignored and they walked between the first row of guards, into the center of the square. Erik would hav
e been pensive, but for the smiles and nods from the men he passed by. The custodian took a sharp left turn, heading to the western edge of the courtyard. A pair of guards pulled open the doors as they approached.

  They followed the custodian inside to a hall with polished wood floors, wainscoting and painted walls. Tove was unable to stifle a noise of amazement at the refinement of it. The ceilings were high and chandeliers lit it all fairly well.

  “This way,” the custodian said after a moment’s silence. He’d been allowing them to take in the surroundings and be awed by them, at least that was Erik’s assessment of the watchful pause inside the door.

  The keep was a winding place of unfailingly beautiful decor. They passed dozens of rooms before being led into and across a grand hall lined with armor, all of it dented and pieced and torn from battle. Wide doors were pushed open and inside sat an enormous woman, muscled with a large axe leaned against the chair she sat in. She was easily seven feet tall. Erik could tell even with the woman in her seat as she was.

  “Erik the Chosen, his valkyrie, Göll, and his assembled warband are hereby presented to her glory Modgudr, Keeper of Gjallarbrú.”

  Modgudr waved the man away. “Sit, eat.”

  The table was full of food, more than any person could hope to eat in a year’s time. Tove did not wait to be invited a second time, rushing to a seat. Servants appeared and prepared a heaping plate for her. While they did their work, Erik moved to the seat at the far end of the table, looking down at Modgudr with Göll at his side.

  “Come, Erik, let’s not have looks on our faces. You’ve brought a new face before me, one I did not expect to see. And she eats from my plates and I have sworn your protection, haven’t I? Or… I ought to have. Wilhelm saw to it, did he not?”

  “He did. You can understand my hesitance.”

  She laughed. “I can. For rumors to have flown to me, is no small thing, berserker. But still, the way must not have been so simple.” She ripped the meat from the leg of a turkey and chewed it smiling. “After Lofgrund, there are few who don’t know your name. Ásví has made many wary of anyone who lives in a stone home. The woman is obsessed with elfhood, you understand. But she will not ascend to dine with the Alfr. She has a sickness in her mind.” Modgudr tossed the bone away.