They rejoined the trail, Göll walking farther in front than she normally did. He moved up to stand beside her.
“So what’s our plan?”
The valkyrie looked over at him, her face having softened a bit since leaving the lake. “We will leave in the morning, if there is nothing else you feel you need here.”
“Nope, I’m good.”
He looked at her, watching for any changes he could see, unsure what he even expected. Erik walked along beside Göll quietly for a short time. There was so much he wanted to say, but so little that he could.
“I’ll become worthy, Göll. I’ll do what I can.”
She looked at him, face impassive, and then returned her attention to the trail ahead of them.
“Good.”
chapter|23
The morning came around after a depressingly quiet night. Neither Tove nor Göll made much conversation and Völundr slept through the whole of it. It wasn’t so much that Erik wanted revelry around their exit from the blacksmith’s sanctuary. More, he wanted something to pull his mind away from the concerns of moving on. If Odin could destroy Tove utterly, the same could happen to him.
It wasn’t a welcome thought. For the first time, there was some weight in his position as one of the chosen.
Völundr rose well after the sun and woke Erik, urging him to come and eat breakfast. Göll was waiting outside the room and Tove woke up as the sound of clanging in the kitchen brought life into the small house.
“Leaving today, are you?” he asked as he lit the stove.
Erik put himself into a chair at the table in the kitchen, stretching his arms over his head. “Seems like it.”
Tove came and joined him at the table, looking much rougher than she normally did. She yawned absently, looking at nothing in particular with bleary eyes.
The ingredients went into the cold pan that Völundr had placed on the cook top. “Headed north?”
Göll left her place by the window and came to the table as the conversation picked up. “We will.”
Erik yawned, deciding in his boredom to push on Tove’s arm. “I guess it’s gonna get colder.”
“A silly question, maybe, but I don’t notice much in the way of warm clothing on you.”
“No, we had a pack,” Erik looked at Tove who shook her head. “Yeah, they took that in Lofgrund. So it’s just what we’re wearing.”
Völundr began to crush black pepper into the food, smelling his hand when he was done. He reeled back, a fit of sneezes coming out, one after another.
Erik doubled over laughing. “What did you think was going to happen?”
The smith stood, wiping his nose. “I enjoy the smell!”
“Hahaha! No wonder you live out here alone.”
Völundr stirred the food in the pan and served it onto plates. “The thanks I get for letting people into my home. Come out here, judge my cooking rituals. Used to be there was respect for a man…” He sat the plates down, took a seat, and looked across at Erik. “I’ve no more help to offer, berserker. I keep myself away from the cold anymore and there’s only enough furs for myself.”
Erik took a bite of the food, coughing almost immediately and then sneezing from the pepper. “Good god, how much pepper did you put in there?”
The smith laughed. “As much as I like!”
Tove coughed and sneezed as well. “It’s terrible!”
The complaints only made Völundr laugh all the more. He took a bite, coughing himself after he did. “There’s— kuh— a…” He sucked in a breath. “I may have overdone it a bit.” He grimaced, straightening himself up. “There’s a town to the north and the west. Göll may know it.” She nodded in affirmation. “They’ll have supplies.”
“But we have no money.” Tove looked at Erik.
Völundr stood up immediately.
“Your food’ll get cold,” Erik said, mockingly.
“If that makes it taste better, I’ll be glad to have it cold.”
Völundr went into his room, coming back with a small pouch, tossing it on the table. A half-dozen silver coins spilled out, the bag not nearly empty. Tove pulled the purse over, beginning a count of them.
Erik protested. “We can’t take that, man.”
Völundr returned to his seat, looking woefully at the food. He waved Erik’s complaint away without looking up. “I’ve no need for silver shaped into coins. And besides, no apprentice of mine goes unpaid.”
“But—”
Völundr turned his eyes up to Erik. “Enough modesty. A man takes his rewards, graciously or not.”
They talked and joked and finished the terrible breakfast. Erik was happy to have such a morning be the last one there. It was nearing mid-morning when they finally took their leave, following the trail toward the north. Völundr had gone back into his workshop rather than see them off with any sort of fanfare.
The grips were comfortable enough to wear through the day, to Erik’s surprise. He’d put them on just before leaving and almost forgot they were there within a few minutes of having done so. They moved north through the forest, passing the places where Göll had destroyed the trees, finding them all replenished. It was only midday when they came to the road that Völundr had mentioned. It trended toward the west for a time and then to the north, but the way was easy and well-worn. Erik could not imagine there were people moving down the road so often, but the trees had remade themselves so it was hardly something he could call himself entirely surprised by. The leaves began to disappear from the trees and the temperature dropped somewhat drastically over the ensuing hours. There was no mistaking that they’d come to the edge of Winter.
The sun had already dipped low in the sky by the time they came to a town larger than Erik had expected along the road. It was perhaps twice the size of Kvernes, though the construction wasn’t nearly so advanced. There were earthen-walled longhouses scattered through the area, with wooden buildings and longhouses mixed
