She followed Erik out of the woods and back to the house without saying anything further. Tove left the food on the cook top when Erik came back, rushing over to him and throwing an angry glance at Göll.
“Are you sure nothing was broken?” Tove pulled up his shirt and Erik moved to pull it back down, but just squawked in pain.
“Nothing’s broken, Jesus. Stop trying to check out my sweet body.”
“Your bird chest, you mean.” Tove mussed his thickening beard. “At least you look something like a man elsewhere.” She let his shirt drop and walked back to her cooking. “Fine.”
“I am sorry for what I’ve done.” Göll’s words were directed at Tove. A fact which caught the girl entirely off guard.
“W-what? You’re talking to me?”
“I am.”
Tove looked to Erik. He just offered her a half-hearted shrug.
“I… accept your apology.”
Göll turned away from Tove, going back to her normal stance, more or less facing Erik at all times when he wasn’t sleeping. Tove finished cooking in silence as well. It was hard not to be amused at the awkward silence that a moment’s consideration had brought into the room.
Erik’s wounds had healed enough by the time he was done eating lunch that continuing would be easy enough, even if Göll kept up her abuse. They returned to the yard, Tove back to the side of the house with a sword to mimic the training.
Göll came to him before beginning. “I cannot be easy on you.”
“Hey, just don’t panic. And tell me whatever you can. It’s not like I want to be on the other end of a sword again. I can take it.” He put on a cocky grin. “And besides, pretty soon, I’ll figure it out and you’ll be the one in trouble.”
She shook her head dismissively and walked to her spot, charging again. The sword slapped against him and Erik grunted. As much as he prepared himself, it wasn’t something he could call enjoyable. It was only six or seven rounds of attacks later that the door to Völundr’s workshop opened and he came out, complaining.
“Constant noise from you insufferable bunch.” He tossed some pieces of metal held at the ends by long leather straps. “You’ll bother me the better part of a decade trying to teach him to use that sword, Göll.” Völundr pointed at the things he’d left on the ground as he walked past them. “Try those. They’ll suit him better.” Völundr yawned. “I’ll be having a shit, a meal, and a long nap. Try to keep your noise mindful of my delicate needs.” He chuckled and disappeared into the house.
Erik walked to the straps, picking them up. Göll stayed in the spot she always began from. He held them up toward her. “These are mine?”
“They seem to be.” She narrowed her eyes at the strange items. “It is rare for him to forge something for someone, though I’ve never seen its like.”
Erik turned the pieces over in his hand. The leather was wide but thin, with a steel buckle at one end that looked to be angled wrong. The main portion was a flat piece of steel, etched as the magic sword had been. There were small curved protrusions spaced along it. He rolled it over in his hand and the steel landed flat against his palm, the protrusions fitting perfectly between his fingers. It was a steel grip and leather wraps to hold it to him. He sat down with them, working the first wrap around his hand. It buckled at an angle, the leather forming a point at the bottom, mid-way up his arm. He put the other on and stood up.
“What good is a bit of metal on the inside of my hand?” Erik walked back to his place on the opposite side of the clearing from Göll. “I’m not supposed to use the sword, right? Just my fists?”
He balled his fists around the metal for the first time and immediately felt the power that had been so long at the edge of his mind flow in like the rush of a broken dam. His eyes widened and found Göll across the yard. He was smiling in amazement.
“It’s some kind of—”
Göll’s expression changed to one of terror and confusion. She dropped the practice sword and a familiar hot glow grew out of her hand. The spear sizzled in the air and Tove screamed for him to run. It was too late, Göll was bearing down on him, her eyes fixed on his face.
Erik tensed, the sound of her hissing wings catching in his ears. But she was clear to him, not a blur. He could see the dirt fly from where she took off as if it was stuck in the air. He took a deep breath and stepped to the side as the tip of the spear came by him. He planted his fist in her ribs and Göll whipped away from him, crumpling under the force of the blow. He hadn’t thought he’d swung very hard, but her tumbling body told him otherwise.
The valkyrie crashed through two barrels of collected rainwater, just missing the edge of Völundr’s workshop. She stopped against a third and sat there a moment, motionless. Erik started toward her until he saw her jaw clenched. She stood, looking at him in disbelief. A single word came out of her mouth, almost an accusation.
“Berserker.”
chapter|22
Göll backed away from him, shaking her head in disbelief. “No, no. It cannot be.”
Erik took a step toward her. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. Are you okay?”
Göll turned, still shaking her head, and a hiss let out from her back as
