Path of Gods

by Snorri Kristjansson

‘I thought I’d never see you again,’ Audun said.

  ‘Why did you leave?’

  ‘I had to. Trouble finds me, and I didn’t want to bring it to you.’

  Helga smiled then. ‘Well, we’re both in trouble now.’

  Audun found that he couldn’t hold back a smile. ‘You’re right there.’

  ‘I won’t draw runes on you. Or Ulfar. I don’t know what would happen, but it feels wrong.’

  ‘I know. We’re both . . . different, I think.’

  Helga nodded, reached out and touched his forearm. ‘I don’t know what’ll happen when we find Valgard and whatever he has with him, but it will not be a happy gathering.’

  ‘I know,’ Audun said. ‘Trouble finds me.’

  ‘Maybe it’s the other way around,’ Helga said.

  ‘Get up, you old farts!’ Thora’s voice rang out. ‘We’re moving!’

  Audun put his hand over Helga’s and squeezed once, silently. Then he stood up, walked towards the men of Stenvik and did not look back.

  Helga watched him go, breathing deeply. Then she set to carving slivers of wood out of the tree she sat on, gritting her teeth in determination.

  *

  ‘I have to say,’ Ulfar said, wheezing, ‘the old boys look a lot less old.’

  ‘This is what they must have been forty years ago,’ Audun said.

  Ahead of them the men of Stenvik were keeping up a punishing pace alongside Skadvald’s raiders. They’d left the clearing and moved up through the valley, which had begun sloping sharply upwards. A day ago Sigurd and Sven had been looking decidedly faint; now the incline didn’t slow them at all. Around them the woods thinned out, the big pines giving way to spindly little trees.

  Gallows Peak rose in the distance, a monument to the impossible.

  ‘They sound happy, though,’ Ulfar said.

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ Audun huffed, stumbling on the snow-covered scree. The men had undeniably changed after being carved with Helga’s runes, and now a couple of them had had to be shushed when they started up a rowdy marching song. ‘We’re doing better, I think.’

  ‘Oh,’ Ulfar said, ‘I wish you hadn’t said that.’

  Up ahead, a line was forming at the top of the hill: the raiders of Stenvik and their new-found friends were watching something. None of them were moving.

  ‘Hurry up,’ Ulfar said, scrambling up the hill as fast as he could.

  The silence rolled down to meet them, thick with despair.

  Audun and Ulfar got to the top, squeezed in beside the warriors and looked down into the valley on the other side of the ridge.

  For a while no one spoke.

  Then Sven turned to Helga.

  ‘We’re going to need more runes.’

  Chapter 16

  THE MOUNTAINS OF THE NORTH, SWEDEN

  LATE DECEMBER, AD 996

  Ten feet from their toes the snowy ground dropped away and the landscape opened up, tree-covered valleys and gently sloping hills stretching into the misty distance. Audun and Ulfar stared down at the view below and tried to understand what they were looking at.

  ‘What are they?’ Skadvald asked after a while.

  ‘Many,’ Oskarl said from the back.

  ‘What?’ The big Viking snapped.

  ‘Many. They are many,’ the Eastman replied, oblivious to the filthy looks he was getting. ‘That means there’s a lot of ’em,’ he added.

  ‘He’s not wrong,’ Sigurd said. ‘I think we’ll be meeting with Valgard rather sooner than anyone really wants.’

  The tide of bodies washing in from the North covered almost the entire width of the valley below, and it reached back three times as far. The column was irregular, but even at that distance they could see that it was moving steadily forward. Small groups kept peeling off to go and scout the terrain; others would rejoin, flowing across from other valleys.

  ‘Are those all trolls?’ Ognvald said, trying to pretend his voice wasn’t trembling ever so slightly.

  ‘No,’ Sven said, squinting into the distance, ‘it looks like the trolls are front and centre. There’re some quick-moving things on the flanks . . . wolves? I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I just don’t know. It’s too far away. That’s at least ten miles, if not more.’

  ‘Fucking fuckers,’ Thora muttered to no one in particular.

  Ulfar drew a quick breath as the feeling swept him away. Stars sparkled inside his head. He could taste metallic cold on the tip of his tongue and he felt something – pressure, maybe – nudge him in the back. ‘We have to get to the base of Bifrost,’ he said. ‘Now. We have to get to Bifrost before they do – we have to go now.’

  ‘We don’t know where it is,’ Sigurd said.

  ‘But you do, don’t you?’ Helga said.

  A circle of silence spread around her and Ulfar could feel their eyes on him. ‘Yes,’ he said, words inching out of his mouth. ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘You think so?’ Ognvald started, but Ulfar had already turned to the west and started walking. ‘Hey! Ass! Explain yourself!’ the boy shouted after him, to no effect.

  Audun cast an eye on the assembled crew of raiders, then turned and followed Ulfar.

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Thora said, following them.

  Skadvald moved to walk after her, but Helga’s hand on his forearm stopped him. ‘Be careful,’ she said.

  ‘Of what?’ Skadvald growled.

  ‘I’ve heard stories of these mountains,’ she replied.

  Skadvald looked down at her, puzzled. ‘How is a story going to hurt me?’

  Moments later the raiders were all headed west, further into the mountains.

  *

  The dark army disappeared out of sight as soon as the raiders crested the next hill. A heath stretched out before them, sweeping fields of white topped with black rock peaks the height of a man. Ulfar had found the energy to keep up with the old men somewhere and now he inched towards the head of the line, with Sigurd and Sven flanking him. Behind him the heavily armed Vikings waded through the snow, silent but determined.

  ‘Where to now?’ Skadvald said.

  Ulfar closed his eyes. He could sense the pull of the bridge. ‘That way,’ he said, pointing to their left, to a snow-covered valley.

  ‘We’re not going up?’ Ognvald said. ‘You have no idea, do you? The gods live above us – everyone knows this.’

  ‘It’s still that way,’ Ulfar said. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look the boy in the eye, because the kid was right; he didn’t know. He wasn’t certain in any way he could put words to. But something told him to go left, so that was where he must go.

  *

  Valley, hill, another heath . . .

  Audun could sense their tempers rising. They needed something to do, something to turn their anger towards. The kid was suffering the worst; Ognvald was nearly frothing at the mouth, charging off the line, stomping into the snow, kicking drifts and snorting in fury. His father shouted at him from time to time, but it didn’t make much difference; the boy was like an angry bullock.

  The wind was vicious up here, and they could even see patches of bare ground. Husks of yellow straw clutched at the earth in sullen defiance, pushed this way and that by the elements, and jagged edges of rock breached the ground like swimmers coming up for air.

  Lost for anything better to do, Audun trudged along after Ulfar. He didn’t quite dare look at Helga; he could control his anger now, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep his other emotions in check. After they’d seen the dark army sweeping in from the North, there had been no time for anything more: they had to find the Rainbow Bridge. That was what Ulfar said, and that would have to be that.

  Up ahead, Ognvald ripped up a fist-sized rock and launched it at a large, jagged peak in the snow about a hundred yards away.

&nbs
p; ‘Missed,’ a brown-haired man shouted gleefully.

  ‘Fuck you, Ygval,’ the boy shouted back. ‘Didn’t miss your mum, did I?’

  ‘Neither do I – she was half bear and half wolf,’ Ygval shouted back. He paused for a moment. ‘Yours was much nicer.’

  ‘Liar!’ Skadvald shouted from the front. ‘She was all bear and all wolf too and I’ve got the scratches from my belly to my knees!’

  The laughter from the men only infuriated the youth. His head whipped round until he found a small boulder. He growled and dived for it, glared at Ygval and launched it at the thing into the distance with a grunting scream.

  It seemed to fly for ages.

  Then it connected to the rock in the snow, and time slowed down.

  The boulder smashed into five pieces, but the stone . . . crumbled. It exploded outwards, sending shards flying.

  ‘DRAUGR!’ Ygval shouted. ‘To arms!’

  ‘What did you do?’ Helga screamed.

  Ognvald didn’t reply. He stared into the distance at something only he could see, his face frozen in abject terror.

  A cold wind lashed at their backs, picking up strength and speed, whipping up the snowflakes on the ground – and now Audun saw them too: shapes in the air, gliding towards them.

  ‘Ward your thoughts!’ Helga screamed. ‘Don’t believe anything!’

  he loved you

  The voice entered Audun’s head like water seeping through an old roof.

  he loved you and you killed him

  ‘Shut it,’ Audun said between clenched teeth. He tried to scout out the others, but they’d disappeared behind an odd milky-white fog.

  your father loved you and you killed him because of your whore mother

  Audun’s back convulsed and arched as the thing on the wind touched him.

  and she loved you too and you threw it away because you’re worthless worse than worthless you are harmful

  The feeling of being probed suddenly stopped, as if the thoughts had pushed up against something they couldn’t penetrate: something at the core of him.

  ‘I am not,’ Audun said. ‘They deserved to die.’

  you do

  ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘maybe I do. But you already did – and when I go, I won’t be stuck in a hole.’ He could taste the rage on the air as the draugr sought a way in.

  your rage will destroy you

  ‘Yes, it will,’ Audun said, and found to his surprise that he meant it. ‘I don’t mind.’

  The draugr screamed in frustration, the sound grating on Audun’s spine.

  let me in

  let me in let me in let me in

  Audun looked at the swirling form in the snow. ‘No.’

  he will kill you all even you and the other one you’re going to suffer you’ll suffer you’ll—

  A speck of light appeared in the centre of the draugr. The flame spread in a circle, burning upwards and down, outlining the stretched and torn figure of a human in flames.

  A maniacal cackle echoed in Audun’s head.

  suffer suffer suffer suffer suffer

  The milky fog around him dissolved and he found himself staring into Helga’s eyes.

  He was about to speak when she grabbed his head with both hands, pulled him in and kissed him, her fingers moving in his hair, heat blossoming in his face and travelling with astonishing speed to the rest of his body.

  When she broke contact, moments and ages later, they both caught their breath like divers. A moment, then he caught her eyes again. They twinkled, and her mouth twitched in a barely suppressed grin.

  ‘Had to see if you were alive,’ she said.

  ‘Mm,’ Audun said, utterly unable to form words.

  ‘Take these,’ she said, pulling his hand out, palm up, and placing two slivers of wood in it. ‘They get hot. Find the draugr and stab them.’ The runes in the wood glowed faintly.

  Audun looked around. The first man he saw was Sven, and he pushed off immediately.

  The old man held a rock in his hand, the jagged edge pointing towards his face. Charging through the chaos, Audun leaped and caught Sven by the elbow, pulling hard and struggling as the old raider’s arm moved with determination to hit himself in the head. Audun’s hand closed around the slivers and he struck out towards the shimmering form in front of Sven.

  When the wood hit the draugr, the sizzle in the palm of his hand almost made Audun drop the weapon. The flame sprung into life where the point met the form in the air and a flickering, orange circle spread quickly to fill out a human shape. The draugr’s piercing scream set Audun’s teeth on edge but he held the flaming splinter still, gritting his teeth as the hairs were singed off the back of his hand.

  Sven came out of the trance and coughed violently. ‘Bastard,’ he hissed. ‘Bastard.’ Tears streaked down the old man’s face.

  Lost for words, Audun gave him a quick, hard embrace and ran off to help the next warrior.

  *

  ‘Seven,’ Sigurd said.

  ‘And nine of mine,’ Skadvald said.

  They stood to one side, watching as the men methodically went about stabbing into the ground, dislodging enough frozen soil to bury the dead. Some of the men had killed themselves with blades. Others had simply ceased to live.

  ‘And Ognvald?’

  Skadvald paused. ‘He’s . . . troubled,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ve taken his blade away for now.’

  Sigurd looked Skadvald straight in the eyes. ‘I look forward to fighting an enemy I can see,’ he said.

  Skadvald didn’t reply. He didn’t have to.

  Thirty yards away, Helga walked amongst the bodies. ‘There was a battle here,’ she whispered.

  Sven walked beside her. ‘So there was,’ he said. ‘Must have been a while ago, too. I couldn’t help but notice—’

  ‘—that the draugr weren’t all of the same size.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Helga stopped and looked at Sven. ‘Don’t worry too much about it. They were old souls, and whatever they met is long gone. Now I’ll need you to leave.’

  ‘Why?’ Sven looked ahead. ‘Oh.’

  Curled up in the snow ahead of them, Thora suddenly looked very small, shivering and moving her mouth silently as she rocked back and forth.

  Helga’s fingers found the cord tied around her waist and searched until they found a small pouch. A pinch of herbs travelled to her mouth, where she rolled them around on her tongue, grimacing all the while. Moments later she had a smooth, round green pellet in her fingers.

  ‘You won’t like me for this, sister,’ Helga whispered.

  Then she jumped on the prone woman, pinning her arms beneath her own knees. A moment’s shock, then Thora started screaming and bucking – but it was too late. Helga’s free hand shovelled snow over the smaller woman’s head and sought out her nose, pinching it shut. As Thora’s mouth opened once more to shriek, Helga dropped the pellet in and threw a half-hand of snow in after it, then pushed off and rose, red-cheeked with effort as Thora started to cough.

  A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and yanked her around. ‘What have you done to her?’ Skadvald said. ‘Undo it – now. Or I’ll break you.’

  ‘Let her go,’ Audun said, stepping towards them both.

  ‘Back off,’ Skadvald growled, grabbing Helga’s shoulder harder.

  ‘No,’ Audun said, calmly unhooking the hammer from his belt.

  Helga gently placed her hand on Skadvald’s, then she drew a deep breath and pressed her thumb down, hard. The big raider screamed in pain as his hand slid off her shoulder, forcing his body to follow.

  Helga twisted and suddenly Skadvald was on the ground.

  A coarse laugh broke the stunned silence. They all turned to see Thora, sitting bolt-upright in the snow, a fierce gleam in her eyes.

 
‘You’re alive,’ Skadvald said.

  Thora ignored him. Her focus was on Helga as she clambered to her feet. ‘No one has done that to me and lived.’

  Helga grinned. ‘I take it you never had an older sister?’

  ‘I should kill you, you know,’ Thora said.

  ‘You should,’ Helga said. ‘Broth first.’

  Thora grinned.

  The two women walked off side by side, leaving Audun and Skadvald standing like puzzled oxen, staring at each other and trying hard to figure out what had just happened.

  *

  The heath slowly changed to hill, and the hill to mountainside. All around Ulfar, raiders clambered up the steep incline with varying levels of grace.

  ‘They can fuck this mountain with a boar tusk,’ Oskarl grumbled. ‘And not one of the nice smooth ones.’

  ‘Stop your complaining, you big girl,’ Sven said up ahead. ‘It’s always grumbles and moans with you Eastmen.’

  ‘We just like to describe the world like it is,’ Oskarl said. ‘That way no one gets disappointed.’

  ‘How do you not just kill each other all the time?’ Ulfar said.

  ‘Sometimes we do,’ Oskarl said.

  Below them, the landscape stretched out until the colours blended into soft curves of white on grey on white. Ulfar had seen most of the men cast a glance in the last bit of climb, and then resolutely look forward.

  The dark army was there, behind them and drawing closer. They’d caught glimpses of it from time to time, but now they were starting to feel its presence, like heavy clouds before thunder.

  ‘WATCH OUT!!’ The scream was raw, immediate, and without thinking, Ulfar threw himself to the ground and felt the mass of the boulder whoosh past. A dull crunch followed by screaming suggested that someone further down hadn’t been so lucky.

  ‘Giants!’

  Ulfar glanced up and cursed: two massive silhouettes were outlined against the grey-white sky, and one was holding a boulder the size of a grown horse. Moments later the giants vanished behind the onrushing rock. Ulfar pressed his head against the cold ground and winced as it shook with the impact.

  When he looked up again with his one good eye, three shapes were moving, scurrying up the hill with speed towards the giants. Their screams, high-pitched and inhuman, drifted down towards the cowering raiders.