‘Ragnarok,’ Sven muttered. ‘The end of the world as we know it.’
‘How do we stop him?’ Audun was hoarse, but determined.
‘Glad you asked,’ Thora said. Her smile was anything but reassuring.
Skadvald pulled up the sleeve of his tunic. A row of runes had been carved into his forearm, neatly and with precision. They were too small for Ulfar to read at a distance, but he could feel the power radiating off the symbols. ‘Helga will carve you with runes that draw out your inner strength,’ the big Viking said. ‘She’s done all of us.’
‘It’s filthy magic,’ Thora said, ‘but it works. And I figure—’
‘—they’re cheating, so why shouldn’t we?’ Sven said.
Thora smirked at him. ‘Indeed.’
‘Then that is what must happen,’ Sigurd said after a couple of moments. ‘How are you for supplies?’
‘We’ve got enough,’ Thora said.
‘Good.’ Sigurd turned to Helga. ‘How long will it take to carve runes on my saggy old goats?’
‘Depends. Longer if they kick,’ she said.
Slowly, smiles were spreading around their little circle. ‘We’ll make sure we don’t send you two cranky ones in a row,’ Sigurd said. He turned to Skadvald. ‘Rest, runes, move?’
‘Sounds good,’ the big Viking said.
*
The smell of burning flesh was hard to shake. Helga sat, straight-backed, on the log where Sigurd and Sven had held their council earlier. The Stenvik warrior sitting opposite held his arm out, clutching a spear with the other. When the tip of Helga’s red-hot knife touched his skin he breathed hard and clutched the shaft in his other hand, but he did not cry out. Thjodolf was one of their oldest walking brothers; he was wiry and bent, and he looked determined to sit through the trial in silence.
Ulfar, standing next in line, tried hard not to think about what it would feel like. By now he could deal with pain in battle, but waiting to be slowly burned? Not the easiest thing to do.
‘There. That’s it,’ Helga said. Thjodolf looked at her, blinking away the tears of pain and wiping his eyes with a wizened hand.
‘But I don’t feel any different,’ he said.
Helga smiled at him. ‘Just . . . wait.’
‘What do you mean wait? My arm hurts like hell because you burned it and I’m not going to just sit here and—’ The words abruptly stopped as Thjodolf’s jaw dropped. ‘Aah . . .’ He sighed. Then, as if discovering it for the first time, he stretched out his left arm and rolled his neck, waiting for the aches and pains of an old body to tell him to stop.
They didn’t.
A radiant smile took over the old man’s face. He looked at Helga, then at his arm, then back at her. A twinkle appeared in his eye and lifted his eyebrow.
Helga laughed. ‘Go on, old-timer, off with you. Go and cause some trouble.’
Thjodolf grinned and rose gracefully from the log, saluting Helga as he left.
‘Next,’ she said.
Ulfar walked towards the log, feeling the tension build in his chest. He sat down opposite Helga, watching as she cleaned her knife and put it down next to her small fire; the most Skadvald had allowed them, and only on the condition that Helga stay by it at all times. Ulfar watched as her hands worked, every movement assured and confident. Her and Audun? Yes, he could see that – but his friend had done well there. He was so distracted by her that when she looked up she caught him staring.
Despite the cold, Ulfar’s cheeks flushed. ‘Um . . . hello,’ he stammered.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You’re him, aren’t you?’
‘I think most people are,’ he said. ‘Well, most men. Women are her, obviously.’
Helga smiled. ‘You’re Ulfar.’
‘Yes,’ Ulfar said.
‘In which case,’ she said, putting her knife back onto the fire to heat, ‘I can’t help you.’ Ulfar frowned, but she just looked at him levelly. ‘Yours is a different path.’
‘What? So – you’re not going to . . .’ Ulfar searched for the words, but they wouldn’t come.
‘No,’ Helga said.
‘Uh, well – goodbye?’ Ulfar said.
‘Goodbye for now, Ulfar Thormodsson,’ Helga said.
‘Did I—? Did Audun tell you my name?’ Ulfar said, but Helga’s attention had turned back to the fire and the set of her shoulders suggested that there would be no more conversation on this subject.
Ulfar rose awkwardly, feeling the twinge in his wound, and left. Over his shoulder he could hear Helga’s soft voice.
‘Next.’
*
Thora was bent over a travel pack tightening straps when Sven approached. ‘What do you want?’ she snapped without looking at him.
‘Nothing,’ Sven said.
‘That’s good,’ Thora said, twisting the rope brutally.
‘Why’s that?’ Sven said.
‘Because nothing’s what you’re getting,’ Thora said.
Sven chuckled. ‘If you fight half as well as you talk we’ll’ – his left arm shot down and their daggers met with a soft clink, inches away from the big vein in Sven’s groin – ‘be just fine.’
A soft flick of the wrist and the slim woman’s dagger disappeared up the sleeve of her tunic. ‘I like you, Hairy,’ Thora said as she rose and hefted the travel pack.
‘And why is that?’ Sven said, grinning.
‘Because you’re a cheeky old git and you’re not even half as friendly as you pretend to be.’
Sven was openly smiling now. ‘You’re a cranky bitch yourself and you’re too fast by half.’
Thora grinned at him. ‘Don’t you forget it. Now fuck off out of my way. We’ve got some things to kill.’ With that she marched off, leaving Sven grinning and scratching his head.
‘Cheeky old git. Well – I suppose that’s not too far off,’ he said as he walked towards the group of Stenvik men, rubbing the freshly carved runes on his forearm.
*
‘She says she won’t give me runes,’ Ulfar said.
‘Really?’ Audun said, turning the blade over in his hand and working the other side of the edge. ‘Any reason?’
‘Says she can’t help me. My path is different.’ Audun’s sharpening strokes slowed down for a moment, but he remained silent. ‘How much did you tell her about what happened to us?’
‘I . . . can’t remember,’ Audun said.
‘Oh come on,’ Ulfar said. ‘You can’t have been boning her all the time?’
Audun looked up from his blade and Ulfar took an involuntary half-step back. ‘Forgive me. I didn’t mean it,’ he said quickly.
Audun forced himself to breathe. He unclenched his jaw and looked away from Ulfar. At last he said, ‘We didn’t.’
‘Really?’ Ulfar said.
‘Yes,’ Audun said.
‘Not once?’
‘No.’
‘Man. You should have—’ Audun looked up again. ‘Fine. Good. Not my business. I get it. But—’ Ulfar made a frustrated sound. ‘I don’t understand. You go and talk to her!’
Audun stopped sharpening the sword, took a deep breath and got to his feet. He shot a final glance at Ulfar. ‘I will, but on one condition.’
‘What?’
‘That you try to shut your mouth from time to time.’
Ulfar smiled and clapped the blacksmith on the shoulder. ‘Forgive me, my friend. But it has to be said – you know that’s not going to happen. Besides, you make a fine target.’
‘Maybe so, but you’ll get what you give,’ Audun said as he walked off. When he got to where Helga was sitting, there were three men standing in front of him. Audun got a chance to stand and just watch her for a moment.
The pain of losing their time together hit him so hard that he had to close his eyes and cle
nch his fists to find calm. He had to remind himself that he’d been forced to leave – it had been the only decision. But he’d decided that he’d never see her again – so how could she be here?
‘Next.’
When he opened his eyes he thought he could see her quickly looking away and his heartbeat quickened as the colour rose in his cheeks. Snow, he thought. Cold, wet and unpleasant snow. Slush. Shards of ice. Nothing warm or inviting. Oh, Fenrir take it all.
‘Next.’
Audun swallowed. He tried to find peace in watching the rune-knife gliding smoothly over the exposed forearm but his gaze kept going to her hand, then up to her shoulder and the nape of her neck, a sliver of white skin exposed under raven-black hair . . .
Stop it! He almost punched himself out of frustration.
‘Next.’
The man ahead of him moved away and suddenly there was only distance between them. The warrior, a burly greybeard named Askell, sat down and pulled up his sleeve, exposing a meaty forearm that had slightly gone to fat. Helga smiled and handed him a wrist-thick branch to hold on to with his other hand. They exchanged a few words and then she removed her knife from the fire again. Askell did not flinch when the hot metal touched his skin and Audun watched, spellbound, as the sizzling point of the knife did its dance. When it lifted, the air between the point and Askell’s forearm shimmered. The old man sat stock-still for a moment. Then he closed his eyes gently and pulverised the branch in his grip.
‘Oh my,’ Helga said. ‘You must have been quite a handful in your younger days.’
Askell opened his eyes. ‘Still am,’ he rumbled. ‘Thank you,’ he added quietly before rising.
‘Next.’
Audun drew a deep breath and sat down in front of her.
Helga looked at him and for a moment there were only the two of them in the world.
‘Well met,’ she said.
‘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 somewher
e 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.
‘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 Valhalla Saga Page 82