“So you were just saying I smell like shit?”
She turned and opened the door to the yard behind them and walked out of it without answering the question.
“Hey!” Erik followed her. “You can’t just…” He gave up, slumping in defeat as he went through the door.
Outside, Göll walked across the yard toward a stone building with several stacks coming out of the roof. Having called Völundr a blacksmith, Erik could imagine what the building was for. The valkyrie disappeared around the side and came back with her hands loaded with swords of varying lengths and shapes. She dropped most of them, letting them clang against each other and fall to the ground. There were two shorter swords left in her hands. It was only when he saw her flip one of the swords over and grab it by the handle that he realized that her own weapon was nowhere around.
“Where’s your fancy one?”
She walked to him, offering the other sword she’d brought with her. “It is a part of me. And useless for our purposes here.”
He started to ask why she’d used it back in the empty lot before realizing that swords were not easily had in the average city back home. He took the offered blade, looking it over. It was dull and looked as though it was made to be. He flailed the sword around a bit in what he imagined was a sort of pattern to test it. Really, he had no clue what it should feel like and likely came off as an idiot, but he could think of nothing else to do.
Göll took her place halfway across the small clearing.
“You have not been here long, but I wish to see if anything has changed.” She let the short sword hang casually by her leg. “I will warn you. I cannot withhold any of my power for your own sake.”
A knot formed in his stomach, but Erik nodded and readied the sword. He did his best to remember how she’d shown him to hold it, but was not convinced he’d gotten it right.
Göll charged. He could see her move, but only barely. It was an improvement, considering he could not feel whatever power helped him to see the others. She only came into sharp focus when she stopped beside him, her sword already angled up to pierce his ribs. He tried to move the sword over to block or to strike her or to do anything at all. It was far too slow and she jabbed the blunt edge of the sword into his ribs. He felt his skin pull before popping past the rounded tip of Göll’s weapon, the metal clacking off of half of his ribs before she pulled it back.
She stood fully when Erik grabbed at his side, taking a few steps away from him. It was a dull, throbbing pain, unhelped by Göll’s disappointed expression.
“Again.” She started back across the yard.
Erik was rubbing his ribs. “How can you move so fast?”
“Because I must.” She spun when she returned to her previous spot. “Ready your sword.”
He did so, slowly. “To fight the others? Like at Lofgrund.”
Göll frowned. “Luck was with me there. Somehow Mist was injured.”
She’d barely finished the sentence when she became a blur crossing the yard. Erik could see the direction she was moving, but little else. He tried to flip his sword over, but it did not find purchase. Göll’s did, the edge bludgeoning his stomach. She came around behind him, stopping and planting an elbow in his lower back. He’d already started to curl forward over the pain of the first strike when the second pulled him back the other way. There was no way to remain standing and his knees gave. He squawked in pain and put his arm over his stomach. He was still holding the sword, he knew, something that Erik decided to take some amount of pride in. It was all that kept him from tipping over onto the ground.
Göll came around to the front of him and cast her imposing shadow down over his suffering.
“You could hit me softer, right? If you wanted?”
“Yes.” She looked at her own sword. “Your speed has improved a bit. But you would still die.”
Erik pushed down on the sword, hoping it would help him stand. Instead, it dug into the soft soil and he fell over, barely catching himself before his face hit the ground. He pushed himself up, standing with a groan filled with both annoyance and pain.
“I’m going to remember you said yes even though you changed the subject.” He leaned the top half of his body from side to side, trying to coax his stomach into dimming the ache of Göll’s sword blow. “So, how do I get faster? How do I not die?”
“Dying cannot be avoided.”
Erik rolled his eyes. “How do I die less?”
“You must learn to see.” She tapped his sword with her own. “And you hold a sword like it means to bite you.”
He turned the sword over, looking at his grip on it. “It might.”
Göll was unimpressed by his joke and turned around, walking back to her place. She repeated her attacks, changing them each time. The drop in his stomach every time she ran at him made Erik swear he could just feel the edges of the power inside his body. It must have been what she meant by learning to see.
Somewhere in the mid-morning hours, Tove came and sat in the grass beside the door to Völundr’s house, watching them quietly. Göll seemed as though she wanted to protest, but she hadn’t ever found the will to do so if Tove’s presence bothered her.
It was around noon when Völundr finally appeared in his own doorway. He watched them for a moment but quickly grew bored. He cooked another terrible lunch, saying that Erik would come and work after the meal.
“The dishes are yours to see to, Göll.” He stood, laughing, when the
