Behind them, the sounds of battle. Ahead, darkness. While Halfdan held the draugar back in Rimnir’s chamber, Freydis and Sif ran down the corridor that led deeper into the complex. As the path branched to either side, they turned right.

  They had not run far before Sif cried out, “Stop!”

  Freydis nearly stumbled halting her run, and she turned around. “What?” she asked sharply, mostly from fear that the girl had spotted danger.

  “We have to go back! He needs us!”

  Freydis bit her lip. If Halfdan was enraged, he would cut them both down without hesitation. “I don’t know… it could be too soon.”

  Sif shook her head. “If he was fine, he’d be coming after us. He might be hurt.”

  Most likely he was, but the berserker’s powerful healing would handle that on its own; there was no aid they could render in that regard. The priestess exhaled. “I don’t think we can offer any help to him, one way or the other. Our task is to stay safe, not head into danger.” Freydis knew her powers in stealth could probably save her, keeping her hidden, but she could not be certain they would save Sif as well.

  “If we keep going, how will he find us?”

  Freydis peered into the dark ahead. The odd glowing runes provided occasional light, but hardly anything to dispel the darkness that covered the tunnels. Going forward or going back, either posed a risk. But forward was unknown; Freydis had no idea what to expect. Going back, she had a sense of what would come and could react to it. And if the fight was won, it did seem pointless to continue flight. “Alright, but you stay behind me, and you’re ready to run.”

  “I’m always ready to run.”

  “Good girl,” Freydis mumbled. “Alright then.” They began walking, skáld behind priestess. One held a spear, the other had a stone in her sling; neither weapon would count for much against the draugar, but holding the haft gave Freydis a sense of comfort, if nothing else.

  The sound of dragging footsteps warned her. She grabbed Sif, wrapping her arms around the girl, and pushed up against the wall. The darkness pulled around them, hiding them, thanks to [Never Seen].

  Ahead, Rimnir appeared around a corner. He looked left and right; Freydis’ heart beat at double pace, feeling like he stared directly at them, but she trusted her skill that had never failed her before. With slow steps, Rimnir turned left.

  Freydis breathed a sigh of relief, silently. They watched as the frost J?tun vanished down the dark corridor. When he was long gone, she released Sif.

  “We have to go back!” the girl exclaimed. “Halfdan might need us!”

  Freydis did not wish to say it, as that would make it feel true. But her thoughts betrayed her, whispering it in her mind. If the J?tun is alive, that means Halfdan lies dead in that chamber. It did not occur to her that Halfdan might have fled; berserkers fought until death.

  But it still made sense to return, assuming the other draugar were no longer a threat – they seemed to react to Rimnir’s presence, having only risen on his command. The J?tun would not search for them in that direction, and it led outside. And Sif would never believe Halfdan had died unless she saw it with her own eyes.

  Freydis looked at the girl whom she now believed to be her sole responsibility. “As before. Stay behind, be quiet.”

  “And prepared to run.”

  Spear at the ready, Freydis continued down the corridor and around the corner. Far ahead, she could see the flickering torches on the ground in the burial chamber. Nothing seemed to move. Cautiously, they walked forward, constantly looking over their shoulder.

  Everything appeared quiet. They reached the round chamber, seeing the result of the fight. Fallen draugar in various states of dismemberment. Looking around, Freydis’ heart beat faster as she did not see Halfdan. Afraid to hope, she picked up one torch and circled the room, pushing corpses over with her boot.

  “He’s not here,” Sif finally declared, and Freydis had to agree. “Where is he?”

  Freydis looked at the entrance that led above ground. She doubted Halfdan would have gone that way. The entire host of draugar would have been in his way, and he would not have fled the opposite direction of them. Besides, the fallen corpses did not suggest the berserker had cut a path that way.

  Rimnir had not pursued them, she realised, but Halfdan. He had run after them, but taken another path. Her heart doubled in pace again briefly as that meant he was alive and on his feet. However, it also meant a J?tun of great power was hunting him, and none of them had the strength to withstand him; Halfdan had clearly been forced to flee, and if the berserker could not bring the J?tun down, neither could someone ungifted in warfare, no matter her blessing from an immortal.

  “Alright, let’s go.” Freydis began walking towards the entrance that led upstairs, gesturing for Sif to follow.

  “Why? Halfdan can’t have gone that way.” Evidently, she had reached the same conclusion as Freydis. Sif turned towards the other corridor, where Rimnir now roamed in search of Halfdan. “He’s back there, and that big one is following him.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “All the more reason we go this way. Our gifts do not lie in fighting,” the priestess reminded her.

  “So? I can still use my sling. You have your spear. We’ve helped Halfdan many times now when he would have lost without us,” she argued.

  Freydis looked at her, knowing she had a point. While neither of their weapons could do much against a draugr of such power, the same had been the case fighting Rungnir. And although Freydis doubted she could help defeat someone like this Rimnir, perhaps she could find Halfdan and help him escape. “Fine. You go back up. I’ll return and find him, bring him back.”

  “What? No, I’m going with you.”

  The priestess walked over and looked down at Sif. “You’re my responsibility. I can’t sneak around, avoiding undead J?tnar and whatnot, while also looking after you.”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know when to hide. Besides, you’ll need me.”

  Freydis raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell, for what? Slinging rocks?”

  Sif nodded towards the corridor. “That’s a maze. Notice how the tunnels twist and turn? You’re going to get lost.”

  “And you won’t?”

  The girl shook her head. “I can remember it in my head.”

  Freydis regarded her with a sceptical look. “You can memorise our route in the dark?”

  “I’m a skáld. Memory is our most important tool.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. “But –”

  “Stay behind, be quiet, ready to run.”

  Taking a deep breath, the priestess ventured into the dark tunnels again, followed by a skáld.

  *

  Turning a corner, Halfdan stopped to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. Staring at the haft in his hands, barely visible in the faint light of distant glyphs, Halfdan found it hard to concentrate. The weapon had been his companion for more than ten years through every battle. He had gathered the ore for it himself through great toil as the last task of his apprenticeship. Receiving the finished weapon in recognition of his berserker training reaching its end, Halfdan had never felt so proud before. Or so strong. Now he only felt weak.

  Not only in a metaphorical sense of the word; two of his skills had become useless, weakening his ability to fight. [Twice the Edge] would avail nothing without a twohanded axe, and likewise, [Deeper the Cut] depended on having a weapon that could bite. The haft might serve as a staff, and thankfully, [Wielder of Weapons] helped with that, but all in all, he felt like half the warrior he was meant to be.

  I don’t have time to feel sorry, Halfdan told himself. He had seen Rimnir pursue him back then; he would soon catch up unless Halfdan ran further. But he had no idea where he might go, and it would not help his situation. He needed to fight back. What were his options?

  Without the axe, he could not cut Rimnir to pieces like the other draugar. Halfdan had a blunt weapon; he could smash in the J?tun’s skull, relying on brute strength. Whether that would kill the J?tun – or kill him again – Halfdan could not know, but he saw no other way of defeating him.

  He also had Seeds in reserve from previous fights. The question was how to use them. [Enemy to Sorcery] would hopefully make him less vulnerable to the spells flung at him, but it would be so costly to increase its rank, Halfdan could only do it once. He doubted that would make a difference, having seen one of the shards punch straight through a skull.

  If he had to fight with a blunt weapon, only strength mattered. Blinking, Halfdan distributed the Seeds. His foundational skill, [Unbridled Fury], increased to fourth rank, thereby allowing him to also increase [Strength of Body] for the fourth time. That left him with one Seed remaining; given his current situation, it did not seem wise to hold back. Halfdan blinked again, spending it on [Wielder of Weapons] to reach the third rank.

  Composing himself, Halfdan stood up straight, pressed against the wall. He closed his eyes, letting [Keen of Sense] focus on hearing alone.

  The shuffling of feet. Slow, steady movement from a creature beyond fear or any other emotion, possessive only of a single-minded will to carry out a task. The sound of his doom approaching, not in a rush as if the result had already been carved by the nornir. Halfdan did not fear death, nor pain; but the idea of Sif and Freydis, stalked by this J?tun in these dark tunnels… Ice clutched his heart at the thought.

  Controlling his breath, feeling the lust of battle returning to heat up his emotions, melting the frost entangling his heart, Halfdan took position around a bend and waited. And waited.

  The moment he saw the eerie light from glowing runes be disturbed, causing shadows, Halfdan stepped into action. He called upon his rage, granting him all the strength and indomitable fighting spirit it could. Filled with [Berserker's Rage], Halfdan moved around the corner and swung his staff directly into Rimnir’s face.

  Bone broke as the J?tun’s nose became crushed, and possibly the skull behind. Dispassionately, without an ounce of pain or concern, Rimnir advanced. Filled with fury, Halfdan was ruled by instinct; there could be no flight or retreat from the fight, not while [A Beserker’s Rage] controlled him. But this time, as Halfdan struck again with the haft, Rimnir caught it with one hand, and his strength in one hand proved equal to all the berserker could muster. With the other, he reached out and grabbed Halfdan by the throat and raised him off the ground. And he began to squeeze.

  At first, still in the throes of his battle fury, Halfdan punched with both fists, aimed at Rimnir’s already smashed up face. It availed nothing. And as the J?tun’s fingers squeezed, restricting airflow, the unthinkable happened. Halfdan’s rage faltered. His vision became blurry and darkened. As blood cooled and instinct faded, Halfdan’s mind returned, but on borrowed time; already, he felt his consciousness slipping away.

  This deep below ground, in J?tun lands, would the valkyries know to find Halfdan here? Or had the norn told it true that the berserker would end in the halls of Hel, but only faster than even fate had foretold?

  No. The only thing greater than Halfdan’s physical might was his strength of will. One hand grabbed the J?tun’s wrist, trying to pull it away. Pointless, for now. But with his other hand, Halfdan fumbled for his dagger until he could draw it and drive it into Rimnir’s fist. No pain ensued, but it caused an involuntary reaction as the fingers twitched. Awaiting this moment, Halfdan wrested himself loose and fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

  He reached for his staff, only to have Rimnir’s boot smash against the wood, breaking it apart. With half a haft, the berserker rolled away, making full use of [Swifter Than Them]. Once more outmatched, Halfdan got on his feet and fled deeper into the dark.