BTtNR - Book 2 - Chapter 036 - Everyone Carries The Weight Differently (Patreon)

Some of the warriors had gone ahead to warn the caravan that was waiting for them about the group approaching their position.  Everyone understood that caution was best when dealing with the group of twenty-plus beastkin that accompanied them right now.

“You’re certain you wish to come to the capital?” Varitan asked. “I can carry a message for now.”

Xirina shook her head.

“We owe all of our brothers and sisters an apology, and I have already dispatched a message to Vulpec stating that I shall carry it.  While it is his right and duty to fill that role, there will be enough that he must do in our den.  As such, I shall shoulder the responsibility of asking for forgiveness.  Perhaps Freyr will allow me to enter his home.”

“Surely you don’t think that our–”
“There is no excuse,” she said, cutting off the elf’s words. “We were lured by something shiny and it has cost us so much. I…”

Xirina sniffed, and Einar watched as she blinked her yellow eyes a few times before closing them and fighting the wetness that appeared around the edges.

“I lost a cub… Her name was Lancela, and her eyes… so big with wonder. I can see them staring at me, wondering why I had chosen a stone over her.”

No one spoke as the foxkin worked through the pain that was written across her face.  The skin along her snout was tight, and her lips were pulled down.

Shaking her head once, Xirina raised it and locked eyes with Varitan.

“I will carry this weight and apologize to your King and Queen if they shall see me.  Knowing you have lost brothers and sisters makes the loss of our own children even greater.”

“Tell me Xirina, have you managed to recall anything of the merchant since last night?”

“I am afraid not,” she replied, turning to Einar. “Whoever it was has clouded my mind which is hard to believe.  Perhaps I can find someone in Lho Allanar that might be able to assist me in remembering something.  Until then I am afraid I can not offer any help.”

Nodding, Einar recalled the conversation he and Thorve had after others went to sleep.

The knowledge someone could enter Alfheim, evade the elves and then use something so powerful that caused the beastkin to go crazy has to point back to what Odin did for me… how many more have suffered from that request?

***

“Stop apologizing and move on.”

Bodalf grunted as he frowned.

“It is harder than you think though Einar.  Odin healed me and already I have died! Before… like Thorleif said, we don’t want to downplay the gift we were given.”

Putting his hand on the bald-headed Viking’s shoulder, Einar shook him harder than usual.

“Don’t think for a moment Odin and Freyr didn’t expect us to die.  What we are doing skirts death every day.  I still cannot believe we only had one death from that fight.”

Motioning to the other Vikings who were walking behind them, Einar smiled at the man who was usually the one making jokes and teasing the others.

“If you’re worried about it, bet on yourself dying again and winning the gold… or perhaps get someone to bet on you instead. That way, no one will be upset when you rush in like a fool.”

A chuckle came and Bodalf’s demeanor changed as he smiled.

“That does sound like a good way to earn a little extra money to help pay for another rune… maybe even the Valkyries would appreciate my bravery while ignoring my foolishness.”

***

“Everything is in place,” Skardi said as he watched Thorodd, Einar, and Thorve inspect the new axes he had just set down on the table. Osvif is getting the shields delivered, and tomorrow we can head out.”

“These are beautiful,” Thorodd muttered as he thumbed the edge, surprised not just at the sharpness, but also the thickness of the axe blade.  “It will make most of our fellow Vikings very jealous when we return to Midgard with these on our hips and backs.”

“Still, you fools seem to forget that what we will face doesn't die so easily. They are already dead.”

Thorve’s tone felt like a mother chiding her child for saying something stupid as she stood there, frowning at the trio.

“Blast it woman. Can’t you let us enjoy something nice for once?”

“Says the fool who forgets I’m the only healer you have who doesn’t make you cry like a baby removed from its mother’s teat when someone fixes your leg!”

Thorodd’s mouth was open to reply, his face turning red when Einar held up his hand and cut him off.

“She’s right, and he is as well. Both of you just stop this dance and go have sex and get this tension over with.”

“What?! That large oaf?” Thorve replied, her eyes wide as she spoke.

“Why I wouldn’t fuck her if–”

“You’re right you wouldn’t fuck me because–”

“ENOUGH!” Einar shouted, slamming his hand down on the table so hard he heard it crack.

Sighing, he stared at the two who were tight lipped and staring at each other, eyes almost throbbing.

“I’m not the smartest man but everyone in our pack can sense the tension between you two and the way you gaze at each other when you think no one else is looking. Right now, we have a fight coming up against what I know will be our hardest foe, which is far worse than everything we have faced so far. There are only eighteen days left on the boon Freyr has entrusted us with.  I don’t have time for petty arguments. Too much is depending on us.”

He glared at the two that shouldered a lot of responsibility he couldn’t always carry.

“Time is running out and Ragnarok is drawing closer every day.  You both know that what happened with the beastkin could be happening in Midgard.  Who is to say that someone hasn’t done that already?”

Einar paused for a moment as he let the idea that had muddled in his mind for the last three days sink in.

“When we return, we either come back stronger, unable to be swayed in the path we have set out upon, or we may end up locked in a cell, unable to be there when the horn sounds and the world burns.”

Movement from his left made Einar turn to see Skardi nodding, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched tight.

“So I will say this once more and do not want another word spoken about it again.  Either go fuck each other's brains out and get rid of that tension I see every day, or find a way to stop the pestering of what the other says!  I need solutions and answers, not fights about things that we all know and understand! Do I make myself clear?”

Both of them shifted, each with their eyes locked only on Einar.

“Yes sir.”

“I do,” replied their healer.

“Good! Now then, Skardi, what is the status of the armor?”

“Seven of the brynjas are ready,” he replied. “Only mine, Thorodd’s, Hallad’s and Starkard’s aren’t ready.  Apparently, the elf was confused when I mentioned that we needed the larger ones first, feeling the time it would take to make them wasn’t worth producing as many.”

Rubbing his eyes, Einar nodded, fighting back the groan he wanted to let out.

“Two more days," he said, “and those four can be done.”

“We don’t have time.”

“I know.  I guess we’ll just have to be extra cautious and use the older ones we have. Perhaps if we double up? Leather armor underneath and the brynja on top?”

“That’s doable, not preferable, as it will potentially cause some movement issues, but still better than the old mail we wear,” Thorodd stated. “Padding, leather armor, and then our chain top.  It might be a good idea for everyone, actually, if we’re facing an undead horde.”

“It might be wise to add some extra padding under the armor on your forearms as well,” Thorve chimed in. “No one wants to be cut by the blades the undead will use.”

“Good. You all go make sure that information gets out to everyone.  Remind them at first light we will move out.”

After about two seconds of nothing else coming from Einar, the three turned and moved quickly toward the door.

Slumping into a chair after the trio was gone, he glanced up at the ceiling.

“Odin… I swear you must be laughing up there.”

A thought flashed through his mind, and then he chuckled.

“Actually, Freyr, you’re probably at fault for making them both want to get into each other's pants…”

***

“These are much better quality and, as you can tell, have an extra six inches of size for the standard ones and another foot for the taller four in our group.”

Einar ran his hand over the edge of the shield Osvif had given him, admiring the way the metal had been beaten and the thicker edge that ran around it.

“This metal, it’s different from what we got in Camalin, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  It appears to be a combination of two different ores. It provides more strength while keeping the weight down. It’s not a lot, but it does add up.”

Although it felt light in his hands due to the balance and distribution of weight, Einar could tell that it was at least five to ten pounds heavier than the one he had used before.

“What about the other task?”

Chuckling, Osvif glanced over his shoulder and checked to ensure no one else was close.

“It's another week, but that won’t be a problem since we aren’t expected to return before they are done. I must say those designs you sketched out were better than I imagined. I made some adjustments, but I think they should work.”

Nodding, Einar slipped the strap for his shield into the handle and then set it over his back.  

“When we face those leuca ango’s, we’ll need a way to keep them from flying away and picking us off.  Knowing we might have something to help with that makes this next challenge easier.”

“And by easier, you mean?”

Sighing, Einar punched his childhood friend and shrugged.

“That if we survive this, the next part might not be impossible.”

“Okay, so first, we survive hundreds of undead. Next, we find out what is keeping them here and also deal with the rumors of undead mages. Yeah, I can see how we should easily survive this.”

Einar began smacking his tongue to the top of his mouth, giving his friend a glare that might curdle milk if that was possible.

“That’s where you come in.  As always, you’re the smart one, and I expect the things you have come up with to work.”

“Is it too late for me to trade that responsibility to just simply shooting a bow from a safe distance?”

Both of them laughed and turned their attention to the path they were headed.

Even with four or five days till they reached the spot where the undead were, the next battle had everyone on edge.

Eniar's gaze followed the fields they were moving along, which seemed to go forever, yet he knew they would eventually end. The treeline would start to close in from afar, bringing them to a place where the reports of evil is so dark, that one could feel it as they got close.

“Rest up, Osvif.  Perhaps you can earn a boon once more for finding ways to make me look good.”