Erik motioned for Göll to follow, taking her toward Tove, who slept fitfully. The women gave him space and he used it to talk privately, so much as he could in the small camp.
“You recognize that face, don’t you?” He talked in as low a whisper as he could, keeping his eyes on Tove and running a hand over her hair, smoothing it.
Göll nodded silently.
“We need their help through the mountains but I don’t like this. I didn’t like it before. If they do anything, anything, I want you to cut them down as fast as you can.”
He sat the rest of the night with Tove, Göll at his side. They all stared at him but none more than Jari. The uncomfortable night wore on and Tove was finally able to sit toward midnight. Not long after Flosi called for the camp to be broken down. It was time they started their march to the north.
chapter|26
One of Flosi’s men came over and quietly laid a sword on the ground in front of Tove. The sheath looked to be expertly made. Tove picked it up and pulled the blade free from its housing. It was no cheap, cast-off sword that they had in spare from the look of it. It was well-cleaned, well-kept, and thoroughly sharp. She sheathed it and stood slowly.
“It will be better than the knives, at least.” She winced as she swung the belt around to fasten it to her waist. “Maybe I’ll even manage to cut one of them if they return.” Tove looked around the camp. “Who are these people? They helped us, so I assume they mean us no harm.” She spotted Jari. “Though…”
Erik grabbed Tove’s pack, holding it up for her to put on. “They’re a warband. They’ll guide us to Gjallarbrú.”
“The great bridge?” She flushed with excitement. “How far?”
Erik turned his eyes to Göll and got no answer. He shrugged. “No idea. And… it’s a bridge?”
“It was in the old tales. The great golden bridge that Hermód crossed to retrieve Baldr from Hel’s side and return him to Asgard.”
“So Hel’s land started on the other side of that bridge?”
Tove looked around the camp. “I believe so. I cannot know for sure. Though only the dead may pass the bridge. It’s said to be guarded by a giantess.”
“Well, great. So, warband, valkyries, giantess. That’s a reassuring list.”
Erik rubbed his hand across the wound at his side. It itched even though it had mostly healed. He’d not survived such a wide wound before, so it was possible there was nothing odd about the lingering discomfort.
The warband was packed, and Erik picked up his supplies, joining Tove and Göll as the lot of them got underway. The flat of the valley was crossed simply and they made good pace to the foothills of the mountains that towered above them. It was a winding path that only occasionally went north so much as it moved up into the hills. They’d traveled for only half a day, but the sun was already nearly below the horizon, and worse they had topped a hill and were moving into a narrow valley. Mountains rose up sharply on either side of it and as they descended into their shadow, Erik realized that the sun had not risen above where the mountains now towered above them.
The cold deepened and the shadows were thick around them, the light fading quickly. Still, the warband ahead of them seemed not to notice the difference. They laughed and carried on. It wasn’t rare for them to turn and stare at Erik from time to time. Tove watched them, annoyed.
“I’ll bet they’re mocking you. Saying you’re skinny and have no muscles. I hate it.”
Erik laughed. “Aren’t you the one saying I’m skinny and have no muscles?”
She looked up at him. “Of course I am, but I am allowed. They are not our warband and they should watch their tongues.”
He let his amusement fizzle away, leaving a half-smile. “Are those the only complaints you have?”
Tove scoffed. “We haven’t the time for me to list my complaints.”
“Sounds like you picked a terrible warchief all on your own then.” He turned to Göll, enjoying the atmosphere more than the serious walk they’d been on so far. “And what about you? Anything you want to get out?”
“It would do well for you to learn to fight,” Göll said flatly.
Erik laughed again and one of the men from the warband slowed to come back toward them. “It’s good you’re enjoying yourself so much, berserker.” The words were not meant in good nature, that much was obvious from his tone. “Refusing a duel and carrying on among women. It’s some wonder the gods would bless you.” The man looked at Erik, sneering. “Or maybe they haven’t. All I saw was a man stuck like a pig and crying.”
“Shut your mouth, oaf! If it’s a fight you want, I’ll gladly send you back to your bed!”
The man spun, a mocking smile on his face and the laugh to match about to leave his mouth. Tove charged him, putting her leg behind his and pulling him down. She planted a boot firmly in his ribs and jumped back as he swung for her foot. Tove pulled her sword as a roar of laughter rang out from the warband ahead of them. The man rose, incensed, drawing his sword.
He was easily twice her size in every meaningful way. Tove was ready for him, though. The man charged and Tove side-stepped, letting his falling blade glance off of her own. She wasn’t nearly as fast as the night before, but she moved better than she had in Völundr’s yard. The man charged again and she parried him, slapping the flat of the blade against the back of his leg. He shouted in frustration
