From Death to Valhalla (The Last Einherjar Book 1)

by Randall P. Fitzgerald

  “You can’t be in here!”

  “Why not?”

  He didn’t have a good reason. “It’s not your land.”

  “Not yours either,” she said, looking around at the tilled soil.

  “I was asked to help.”

  “I’ve heard the rumors about you. And I followed all morning. Are they true?” She was grinning by the time she’d finished the sentence.

  “I have no idea what rumors there are about me. And that was you?”

  She pushed his arm playfully, ignoring his annoyance at having been followed. “Don’t play the fool. You know. Valkyries.”

  A small panic rose inside of him, not sure what it meant. The girl’s demeanor didn’t suggest anything dangerous, but how could he know?

  “Oh! Is it a secret?” She snickered. “Horribly kept secret, if it is. I just want to know about them. You’re an einherjar, aren’t you? One of Odin’s chosen?”

  He let the plow settle in the earth. “I guess.”

  “So you’ve met a valkyrie.”

  He scoffed. “Met, yeah. Real majestic.”

  “Are they? I’ve heard they’re fearsome. Horrifying, some say. But it’s all stories, I bet.” She was almost giddy talking about them. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you in Valhalla?”

  He shook his head and decided to go back to pushing the plow. “No idea. I woke up next to a well and now I’m here.”

  “Hm, that’s pretty normal. There’s wells all over. Spit people from Midgard out. Are you sure you’re not just making it up?” She kept a slow stride beside him as he practiced pushing the dirt into straight rows.

  He laughed, somewhat indignant at the accusation. “Why would I make it up?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe you want that people should think you’re a great warrior. Some folk are that way.”

  “And that’s why I’m pushing a plow in a potato field.”

  “Carrot.”

  He reached the end of the row and looked back down the other way. “Look it doesn’t matter, I’m not lying.”

  “Then have you met Odin?” She seemed as hopeful as curious.

  “No.”

  The girl sank. “Have you met anyone? Your valkyrie was the one called Göll, wasn’t it? Ah!” Her mouth fell open. “My name! I’ve not introduced myself. I’ve Tove.”

  Erik just nodded.

  “Now you say, ‘I’m Erik.’”

  “But you already know.”

  “It… of course I know. But we’re meant to be introduced.”

  Erik chuckled. “Right.” He held out his hand. “I’m Erik.”

  She looked at his hand and then back up, grinning. She slapped her hand around his forearm. “Good. We’re introduced.”

  There was nothing to do but shake his head at how odd the girl was.

  “I’ll help you plow.”

  Erik raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “I’m pretty sure this is a one person job. And I should get back to breaking up the stuff.”

  “Then we can take turns!”

  Tove was maybe a bit more than half a foot shorter than Erik and the rig was hard enough for him to push, but he felt like the sight of her pushing it would be worth the lost time. He switched the tools and walked it to the edge of where he’d stopped tilling before, handing it to Tove.

  She pushed, trying not to show the effort on her face at first, but eventually giving in as her face reddened. It was slow progress, but she was getting somewhere at least.

  “Alright, that’s enough of that.”

  She turned around immediately. “It was working! Do you mean to insult me?”

  Erik laughed. “No, I’m trying to get the work done so I can afford to eat.”

  Tove screwed up her face, turning back to the plow. She pushed it another six inches through the soil before noticing something.

  “There are places for straps! For a harness!”

  “I’m not going to wear a harness.”

  She ignored him and ran toward the door to the house, pushing it open without knocking. Erik could hear pained complaints followed by Tove’s voice, full of annoyance.

  “Shut your gob, old man! I just need the harness!”

  He could feel that the likelihood of him getting paid was becoming worse with every minute she was in the house. She came running back outside, holding a leather harness.

  “I found it!”

  Erik decided to just turn around and start pushing the plow, hoping that maybe she would put it down and leave. It was a hope he knew wasn’t going to pan out, but it was worth a try.

  Tove ran up beside him. “Ignoring me won’t plow the field any faster.”

  “I’m flatly rejecting that statement.”

  “What?” She looked at the harness. “This is not sized like I expected it would be. Must be meant for a goat?”

  She phrased it as a question as though Erik would have been able to offer any insight into animal harnesses.

  “I don’t believe you’ll fit into this.” She said those words with implication that she was joking.

  Erik stopped. “Why would I wear a harness?”

  “You could pull the plow while I hold onto it.”

  He rolled his head back for a moment, exasperated. “Well, since it looks like it’d fit you, how about you pop it on?”

  She looked at it for a minute, considering the idea. “Sure. I think it buckles in the back, though.”

  She started putting the straps over her arms and the leather pushed up her chest, making it noticeable for the first time beneath her loose clothes. Erik wasn’t sure whether to feel embarrassed for looking or for the fact that his brain hadn’t really registered her as a girl until just now.

  “Okay, buckle me up and hook it to the plow.”

  Erik shook his head, but did as she asked. “This isn’t right. This isn’t how you’re supposed to plow fields.”

  “It ought to make the work go faster, right? How can you find reason to complain about being done sooner?” She was strapped to the plow and turned around to face him, looking rather pleased with herself. “Alright. You push and I’ll pull. It’s simple.”

  She turned around and started walking without giving him any time to complain. Erik barely grabbed the handles before it turned over onto Tove. Left with no other choice, he pushed the plow as she pulled. They were nearly at a jog tilling through the first row and when they hit the end she spun around, hopping in place.

  “Didn’t I say?” She smiled a wide, genuine smile and Erik couldn’t bring himself to be upset.

  “You did. I was wrong to ever doubt you.”

  She nodded, a sly look on her face. “Remember you said that.”

  They turned the plow around and kept going. A few people passed over the next hour, all of them laughing. Erik felt bad seeing the people pointing at her.

  “Maybe we should unhook you and stop this. I can finish it from here.”

  Tove stopped dead when he finished talking. She turned to him with an intense look on her face, no hint of a smile. “Those people are idiots and fools. You can never let them make you think as they do.” Her smile returned. “Besides, my idea is working well. What are a few laughs if we finish our work sooner?”

  “Our work?”

  “Isn’t it?” She started pulling again, dragging the plow through the last row.

  “So you’re after half my money?”

  “I’ve my own money, thank you.”

  “Then what are you after?”

  “Adventure,” she said, huffing as she took heavy steps forward.

  At least she was forthright, though Erik had to admit that adventure sounded a bit more fulfilling than the work they’d spent the day doing. He chuckled to himself at the thought that wandering around with a sword might be the easier way to li
ve.

  In spite of their combined inability to move in a straight line, they managed to properly make rows just under half of the field when the light started trending toward dark. Erik put his shirt back on and left the plow and Tove walked with him back toward the city.

  “That’s no kind of beard for a man.” She brushed her hand over the stubble that had begun growing in on his chin.

  Erik rubbed the area she’d touched. “Yeah, I wasn’t allowed to grow one.”

  “Wasn’t allowed?” She laughed. “What sort of world has it become?”

  They were watched fairly intently by a pair of men in their late thirties as they got to the edge of town. Tove quieted when she saw them. The two started out into the road as they approached.

  Tove sighed in annoyance almost immediately.

  “Keep it quiet, you.” The man who spoke had a patchy beard and thinning hair. He looked at Erik and then back at Tove. “What’re you doin’ around this lout anyway? You ought to know he’s trouble, talkin’ of valkyries and worlds no one’s ever heard of.”

  “My brother sent you two, didn’t he?” The men looked at each other. “Of course he would. What business is it of his? Or yours? I’ll keep company with anyone who suits my liking and you can tell Vali I said as much.”

  They ignored her and turned their attention to Erik. “You’ll keep a distance if you know what’s right. No one likes you, newcomer.”

  Without saying more, the two men left, making for a side street. He looked at Tove. Her face was twisted up in anger.

  “I’m sorry for making trouble.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s the same with everyone here. This town…” She started walking. “We should eat something after all that work. And drink.”

  He kept with her. “I don’t know enough to say anything either way.” He drew in a steady breath. “I just… I’m hoping things will make sense with some time, maybe.”

  She stopped, looking up at him. Erik carried on a few steps before he turned back to her.

  “I have to go. I’ll find you later, understand?”

  He narrowed his eyes, slightly amused by the sudden change. “Sure.”

  She nodded, looking over her shoulder. “Good. Very good.” She turned and started jogging toward the side streets. “We’re a warband now, okay?”

  He laughed. “No we’re not.”

  “We are! We’re going adventuring!”

  chapter|8

  When he’d woken up, Gerhard had told him there was a surprise for him. It turned out the surprise was that he’d heard last night that a small group of farms a few miles from Kvernes were harvesting and needed an extra pair of hands. Erik ate a quick breakfast and left the alehouse early. Gerhard had recommended he travel light, saying it was only a few hours walk mostly over a well-trodden path. There was a sign post pointing the way to the farms. They called their village Gandrup.

  He was nearing the edge of town when he spotted a familiar dirty-blonde head. Tove was looking the other way and he considered hiding but the odds were that she’d been waiting there for him for a while as it was. She turned her head and when she saw him came trotting over.

  “What’s with the pack?”

  Tove looked toward the pack and then behind them down the streets. “Adventure pack.”

  Erik nodded as he started walking. “Not sure the walk to Gandrup is that far. How did you know I’d be leaving north?”

  She followed along beside him. “Everyone knows everything in Kvernes. I can hardly stand it.”

  They left the north side of the city, the dirt becoming a bit less packed within a hundred yards of the outer edge.

  “So am I tying you to the front of a plow again today?”

  She shrugged, laughing lightly. “If it helps.” Tove looked behind her after saying it.

  “You must be pretty eager to leave Kvernes.”

  Tove kicked dirt at his feet. “It’s easier to leave for some people than others. Whatever else I might imagine I am, I’m small and a girl. And bandits aren’t so kind as people like you.”

  Gerhard had been fairly heavy-handed with the bandit talk to him as well, that morning. Erik hadn’t seen a single soul— on the road or off— the whole day before and there seemed to be no one around them now.

  He looked down at Tove who was doing her best to kick a rock along as they walked.

  “Have you seen any? Bandits, I mean?”

  She kept her focus on the rock. “No. Not myself. I’ve heard stories of people being robbed or people disappearing. That’s why I had need of a warband.”

  “I see, so I’m the leader?”

  She tossed her head back and forth. “More or less. You are one of Odin’s chosen so there must be some merit in you.”

  “I’m not sure the process works the way either of us think.”

  Tove gave the rock a strong kick, sending it off into the woods. “Perhaps it doesn’t. But at the very least, I can follow you for a time. It will pass the days.”

  She went quiet after that and they walked on for the next hour and a half until they came to the sign. It pointed only one way, toward Gandrup. The trail leading there was not nearly as well-kept as the road that led away from Kvernes. Roots had grown up in a few places and it had washed out and become uneven in others. It was nearly another hour along that trail, but Erik felt like they hadn’t covered nearly as much ground.

  The woods cleared to a set of fields, each about half the size of the one he’d tilled the day before. These were all full of fully grown crops. He knew next to nothing about seasonality but if it was the beginning of spring it didn’t make much sense that they would be harvesting anything. A man came walking up to them, looking over Tove and then Erik.

  “Welcome. I am Gaddi. You two are from Kvernes?”

  “We are. I’m Erik and she is Tove.” Wasting no time, he changed the subject before it could be glossed over. “Can I ask something?”

  Gaddi nodded. “How is it that you’re harvesting at the beginning of spring?”

  “Beginning? It is always spring here.”

  Tove spoke up. “He’s just come from Midgard.”

  Gaddi gave a large, knowing nod. “Ah, I understand. It’s rare for us to see new faces here.” He turned and started toward the farm. “Most of the tasks today are simple, even if you’ve not done them.”

  They moved to a small square where five houses sat around a large fire pit. There were outbuildings holding drying meat and one of the fields had stooks of some kind of grain drying as well.

  Gaddi pointed toward one of the buildings. “Tove, you can assist the women until it comes time to cut the grains. They’re seeing to the cheeses, I assume you know your way around such things?”

  Tove nodded. “Born to it.” She smiled.

  Gaddi returned the smile. “Glad to hear it.”

  She left, jogging to the house as best she could with the pack on. Gaddi turned his attention to Erik when she was away.

  “We’ve got turnips and carrots that need digging and grain that needs threshing. Both require a strong back and stamina, though I doubt you’re lacking in either.”

  “I know how to dig, I can say that confidently. I’ve never threshed grain, so I can’t say as I know how to do it.”

  Gaddi seemed surprised at the news. “Never? I’d gladly show you.” Gaddi walked over to a small shed with Erik in tow and produced a long pair of sticks attached by an iron ring.

  “This is a flail. You hold the longer end and strike the wheat to thresh it.”

  “Right, that sounds like something I could ruin, so…”

  Gaddi laughed. “Then we’ll have you dig.”

  He was walked to a field where four other men were already at work pulling turnips up from the ground and tossing them into baskets. Gaddi pointed Erik to the baskets and th
en took his leave. No one spoke to him as he picked a row over from the men who were working and started pulling. There was a knife in the basket which made Erik curious so he watched the men around him. They cut the root and the greens from the turnip, taking the bulb and leaving the rest in the field. He’d avoided being screamed at by people so far and he was intent on keeping it that way for as long as he could manage, so he copied them as best he could. He’d half-filled the first basket with turnips when the idea occurred to him that most of these people had been here for hundreds of years. Tove seemed to be the only person he’d met so far who was bothered by it. He tried to understand why, deciding that maybe it was simple enough. They were farmers, they hadn’t known anything more than what he was doing just now and they lived in a place where it was eternally spring. It could be a sort of heaven for them.

  He filled baskets at half the speed of the other men, who took to ribbing him when they were done with their rows and he still had half of one left. He’d managed three rows of the ones that were there when he’d arrived. Not an impressive number, but he was happy enough to have helped. His back was less happy about it, but that was just a punishment for spending a lifetime mostly sitting and eating fried foods.

  Lunch was served when the turnip field was done. Some of the women must have undone Tove’s loose braids as they had done them up into something much more intricate. She brought him a plate of cheese and cubes of boiled meat with turnips. The meat was good enough but Erik was already starting to wish he had better options. Tove stood near him, eating her plate of food as well.

  “What’s with the hair?”

  Tove put her food down and patted at the braids. “For work in the fields they said. There’s meant to be a headdress to cover it up as well. Is the cheese to your liking?”

  “You make it? It’s sour.”

  Tove made a face. “It’s meant to be sour.”

  “Well, then it’s the way it’s supposed to be and it’s not very good.” He picked up a chunk of the cheese and ate it.

  “Not good but still you ate it?”

  “I doubt I’ll be offered anything else. Plus, I’m a guest, right?” He ate the boiled beef and handed the plate back to her. “Thanks.”