“A week, maybe.”
A look of surprise shot across his face. “Then… in Spring…”
“Nothing. I just left. They attacked me here.”
“How did you die in Midgard? In battle?”
“No, valkyries came and… look, explain shit.”
“Valkyries came to Midgard?” The guard shook his head. “Wh— No. It’s… When Haki arrived here, he had already developed a twitch in his sword arm. Said they’d cut it off a hundred times at least. He was proud of it. He used to say, ‘Even if the body mends, the brain never forgets.’”
“The damage?”
“Seems to be. No one dies like the chosen, so I didn’t believe him. Every day, he walked out that door and stood in the yard, waiting for them. Hrist and Mist. After a hundred days, he could only go every week, if that. Still he stood and faced them. A hundred days became a thousand and he spent months in that bed, screaming. He started to run then. It didn’t help. Eventually, he broke.”
Erik looked at the door to Haki’s cell. He could hear moaning weeps beyond the wood. “Even now? They won’t let him go?”
The guard shook his head. “They’ll never let him go. You either.” He looked down the hallway, absently. “I warned you. Do what you like with it.”
The guard went away, back to his post, and Erik was left alone with only the feeling of a sword in his chest and the muffled wails of a broken man.
chapter|15
Erik returned to his cell, the stiff pain in his chest proving to be enough to dissuade him from trying anything more drastic. His hand had gone numb in the hours since he’d woken up and he was unsure if that was something he should be concerned about. Knowing how Haki came to be the man that he was, Erik couldn’t help but find himself worried.
As uncomfortable as the bed was, it was the best place to sit, ignoring the chair that would no doubt mean forced interactions with the guards or with Haki if the man ever regained whatever was left of his mind. He had sat down with the intention to plan a way past the valkyries and to Tove and there seemed to be a dead end at each of them. He considered that it was possible that the guards would simply move out of his way and let him go to Tove, but that didn’t seem entirely likely. He resolved to find out properly when the pain had gone down, waiting in case they reacted violently to his approach.
The real insurmountable problem was the valkyries. Time kept passing and Tove had barely been able to stand when she’d come before. He would have to carry her and he wasn’t fast enough on his own to deal with them. He’d run the first time not planning to get as far as he did, but the information was valuable. They’d done more than charge when pressed. They could fight on foot and it was unlikely that they’d give him as much opportunity to find clear ground in his next attempt at leaving the yard.
No matter how many ways he tried to think around it, there was no way of taking Tove along with him and making it clear of Hrist and Mist. That resignation brought another thought to mind. Though the yard presented only a single way clear through to the city, they weren’t limited in that way at all. They could wait where they pleased, attack from whatever angle they liked, and knew which direction he’d be forced to head. Whichever of the pair had crushed his throat was undeterred by walls. And if they cared about the damage he’d done during their fight in the street, they wouldn’t give him the simple pleasure of being attacked in turn. They were in pairs for that reason. It was something he felt stupid for not understanding before. They’d only taken it in turns to fly at him because he posed no threat. And suddenly, he wondered if he did pose a threat. All of those were things he had to know before he could step foot in the court again. They would learn how he moved, he had no doubt of that, but he had no way of improving himself stuck in the prison alone. Haki wouldn’t be of help. He was incapable of it.
Nothing viable had presented itself by the time food arrived. More sausage with vegetables, this time with a side of fresh fruits and what looked like a thick yogurt. Along with it, there were a fresh pair of clothes, the ones he’d woken in being torn and blood stained. He hadn’t even thought of it until he saw the new ones. He ate before changing into the new clothes, inspecting the old ones for any sign of blood that wasn’t his own. There was nothing. It made him start to wonder if he’d done any damage to them at all or if it had been some dream he’d had while lost in the pain of returning to life. Maybe that was how Haki had lost himself.
The food was good, better made than the sausage he’d been given when Tove was in. It was more smoothly ground and had less gristle than before. The fruit, as well. It was a strange addition along with the sour yogurt. Dessert for prisoners seemed like an odd thing. As much as Ásví might have pretended he wasn’t a prisoner, he could still understand the walls of the cage around him.
The feeling in his hand was returning around the time he finished eating, so when the meal was done Erik stood and walked to the wall. He took a deep breath and punched the stone, not hard, but it was enough to hurt. A bit of skin peeled from his knuckles and the uncaring stone sat unblemished. There was no feeling inside him like there had been during the fight and he
