He’d broken the valkyrie’s arm. He knew that now. He’d seen her favor it. It meant they didn’t heal immediately, even if they were some aspect of Odin. He didn’t know why, but it worked well enough for his purposes. It was why the guards were terrified before. They would fight him, but how many times? If he could find the speed and strength that he had against the valkyries, he could handle any number of guards, but it was fleeting and mercurial to say the very least. It came on from nowhere and left before he’d finished the fight.
Haki was shuffling around in his cell and Erik was tired of idling. He stood up and walked himself slowly to his door. It felt for all the world like he was bruised down to the bone all across his chest. The ache was bad enough without the weight that seemed to be on his back, urging him to want to correct against a force that only the higher part of his brain knew wasn’t there. He left his cell, finding no new guards had been assigned to him and that there was no extra noise in the halls. Ásví really must have expected him to take it as a warning and leave it there.
Erik dragged himself to Haki’s cell door. He could feel the look on his face and knew that entering with such an expression would only scare the broken old warrior. That wasn’t his intention. He needed more than Haki likely had to give and he intended to try his best to drag it out.
The handle turned and Haki was pacing around the middle of the cell in small circles. He stopped, looking at Erik with a confused face.
“Neigh… bor?”
Erik nodded. “Haki. I, uh… I came here to talk to you, o’ great warrior.” It wasn’t a convincing first effort.
“What… what trick is this?”
He shook his head, walking slowly into the room. “It’s not a trick. I want to know about you. I heard stories. I don’t know how to talk about these things, but I respect you.”
Haki narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “R-Respect? How? Why?”
“I heard that you…” He had no idea how to phrase it so Haki would go along. “I heard you, um, felled many men. Great warriors.”
Haki’s posture turned toward Erik the slightest bit. “You… you know… the stories? My stories?”
“I want to know them.”
There was half of a crooked smile on Haki’s face. “I ha-haven’t… in ages.”
“I want to be like you, Haki. Strong and manly and brave.”
It was only half a lie. Erik was beginning to understand what it took to become like Haki. To rise every day and go face torture when you could sleep and eat. Somewhere he lost to it all, but he was still a man worthy of respect.
Something in Haki’s eyes cleared just the least bit. “You would…” He hacked, gritting his teeth and slapping at his neck. “…be a fool… to wish it.” He sucked in a breath and bored into Erik with cold, dark eyes. A second later the hazy look returned. “Stories… was it?”
Erik narrowed his eyes. “How did you learn to move so fast?”
Haki laughed his slow, ratcheting laugh. “Learned?” He coughed. “Touch of… Odin.” He drew in a breath. “Makes a… a man… what he was meant… to be.” He squealed low and soft, delighted by Erik’s interest. “A… warrior. Great… warrior.”
“But it’s hard to feel, right? It slips away?”
The man slid slowly toward Erik, shaking his head slowly. “Nothing… hard… for a warrior. A firm grasp… is crucial.” He wrapped bony fingers around Erik’s arm, squeezing tight. His eyes cleared again. “Does it… slip from you… boy?” Haki sniffed the air. “You’re… no warrior. Leave me… be.” A wide, vacant grin spread across Haki’s face. He slapped Erik on the arm and began a slow awkward dance around. “Killed… so many,” he wheezed. “A great… warrior.”
Erik left the room, closing the door. He stood outside, staring aimlessly at the walls. Behind him, Haki shuffled a dance without rhythm, singing incoherently about his prowess. Whatever Erik thought he had gone into the room for, he’d come out with nothing. The whole tiny world inside Ásví’s walls was built to make a stacked game that he was forced to play. The mattress was proof of it. The gruel must have been as well. A warning before he knew there was a game to even play. And Tove.
His stomach was on fire, angry at the farce he was stuck in. Before he knew it, he was walking down the hall toward the fork. Without so much as a second’s hesitation, he rounded the corner. The guards’ eyes widened as he closed on them. They scrambled back, drawing their swords. It was slow, but Erik knew there was more in him. Where was it? He wanted to scream.
“Stop right there, einherjar! You can’t—”
The guard was drowned out by the battle cry of the other, who charged at Erik, sword overhead. He slashed down, Erik moving to the side and the sword clanging against the stone beneath, throwing the man off balance. Erik planted a fist into the side of the man’s chain armor. A muffled crackle sounded somewhere beneath his fist and the attacking guard rolled away under the power in the punch.
The battle cry became screams of pain and the other guard decided there would be no more discussion. He charged at Erik. It was slow at first, but the feeling in his mind slipped
