Erik wrapped his hands around his grips and as Jari noticed the movement he took a step back, calming himself.
“Could be I was hasty in my words…” He paused for a moment, considering what to say next. “But I’d not waste such gifts, not near the way you do.”
Jari walked off and Erik went back to watching the fire. When he was warm enough he went to retrieve his coat, laying it by the fire to dry. It had not absorbed as much water as he’d worried it might. He could hear the sound of Tove and Göll practicing not far from the fires, but he wasn’t able to see anything more than the occasional flash of dull orange through Göll’s blade. There was a consistent sound of metal on metal, which told enough about Tove’s progress. Erik went to their packs and retrieved some of the thoroughly frozen meat. He began slicing it thin, returning to the pack to see to the ale casks, finding them to be filled with half-frozen slush. He filled a pot with ale and took it to the fire. The meat cooked slowly, the cold in the air pulling much of the excess warmth away nearly as fast as the fire put it in. Tove and Göll returned to the fire as the food was nearly done. There were cuts all along Tove’s arms and a few across her sides and back. They were shallow and the blood had already frozen, stopping the bleeding, if any of the wounds even still remained open.
Tove sat down and, without a word, set to eating the meager meal that Erik had prepared. She focused intensely on the food, turning between bites to snap off small lumps of frozen blood.
“Did you get any sleep?” Erik asked.
Tove looked over at him, smiling. “An hour, maybe. I couldn’t stand being in the bedroll, so I had Göll make good on her word.”
Göll came over to Erik’s side, watching the other men in the camp. She looked as composed as she always did. Erik spoke to her, keeping his face aimed at the fire and trying to keep the cold out of his mind.
“So, she’s not terrible, Göll?”
“Her way with a sword is passable. But she moves faster than she ought to be able.”
Erik raised an eyebrow looking over his shoulder at Göll. “How can you tell?”
“I have observed humans in Helheim many, many times. She moves as though she was touched by Odin, handed the gifts of the chosen.”
He perked up at that. “So maybe she’s worthy?”
Göll shook her head. “I cannot say. I do not feel her. If she was chosen, she is not mine.”
Erik turned to Tove. “Do you feel anything? Any… like… magic?”
Tove shook her head. “Nothing. I’ve felt less tired as we’ve continued on, but nothing more than that. Even when I fight, I feel as I always have. Only…” She thought of how to say it. “The world seems to move more reasonably.”
Erik thought of how Haki moved in the cell in Lofgrund, almost as though his speed were second nature. There had been nothing special about him to the people in the prison. But who would have chosen her?
“Göll, if she’s in a warband with me, she could still be chosen?”
Göll nodded. “Nothing prevents it. But, normally…” She hesitated.
“Normally, what?”
“It is common to be able to feel the chosen for all valkyries. It…” Her words caught in her throat and Göll straightened. He could see a strain in her neck and she fell silent.
Erik stomped the dirt, his jaw clenching in annoyance. Something kept Göll from speaking, and he suspected it did not do so gently. Whatever his existence was, hers was as bad, at least, and tied to stronger, crueler bonds.
The food was done and they packed. The fires were extinguished with buckets of melted snow and the usable wood was reclaimed and stowed. The speed of their march was as punishing as it had been the day before. Shortly after they began the pace slowed and Flosi came to the rear, sidling up to Erik with a pleasant smile.
“A beautiful night,” Flosi said sarcastically, laughing at his own jest.
“Yeah, hard to keep myself from enjoying the view.”
“At least your spirits are high. You’ll need them.” Flosi gave a satisfied exhale after sucking in the cold air. “We are a day and a bit more from Gjallarbrú. I intend not to stop until we’re in sight of it.”
“Works for me. I’m not really interested in an ice-cold alarm clock.”
Flosi didn’t seem to understand him, but laughed after a moment’s awkward look. He returned to the head of the warband and the speed picked up again.
The dark seemed to move in on them, pulling even the scattered lights of the runestones closer to their sources. The wind picked up, bringing flecks of ice with it. Erik struggled to keep his eyes open as much of the time as he wanted, the ice making it nearly impossible. The blister of the wind and its debris were beginning to numb his face as well. He trudged on through it, feeling Tove regularly grab at his coat to be sure she was still near him.
The wind began to let up, even as the terrain worsened. The light did not return to the runestones, somehow still dimmed by the oppressive night around them. Suddenly, as they reached a plateau, the line ahead of him halted. He narrowed his eyes, closing on the lights at the rear. He heard the unsheathing of weapons and wrapped his hands tentatively around the grips. A torch was lit at the front end of the plateau and it was then that Erik realized what had stopped them.
There was a dense fog forming around the warband. More torches were lit, revealing the area as best as they were able. Erik felt the warmth of the fog as its edge
