In the middle of the road, two figures stood in white robes, branches sticking from their hair. Thorve and Kojala looked like spirits, each having painted their face white. On their left cheek was a red handprint, made from blood. On the other was a black one, matching the one eye to represent what Odin had lost.

  Flames rose high into the night sky, where the pyre burned with fury, the logs drenched with alcohol as an offering.

  A nod from Thorve sent her fellow healer to where the pinky of the giant lay on the ground.

  Kojala bent down, retrieved it and carried it near the raging inferno.

  “To the gods who gave us breath, who steeled our arms and guided our weapons,” Thorve called out. “We give back a portion of what was won!”

  With a simple motion, the appendage was tossed into the flames, sending up a shower of sparks as the piece of flesh began to burn.

  “Einar, Vidar, Avitue, Jepi. Come, offer your reward to our gods.”

  All four leaders came as one, each dressed in a white robe and bearing red handprints on their cheeks.

  Einar carried a testicle. Its immense size and the value of it for runes had been a brief moment of debate, but he told every man and woman that he wouldn’t hold back on giving what the gods were due. None had argued from that moment on.

  Avitue carried an earlobe, almost as big as her torso. Vidar had a toe, and Jepi carried the nipple. Each moved to a silent beat. Their steps aligned, and then they tossed the pieces of flesh into the fire, taking a step back as the flames grew.

  The four then returned to their packs, standing before their warriors, every man and woman giving complete attention to the ones who led this special moment.

  Both healers moved to the line of Vikings, starting with the workers and helpers of the caravans first. Each one received a bloody thumbprint on their chin.

  From there, they reached the warriors, dipping their whole hand into the bowl of blood and slapping each Viking across the cheek, leaving a full handprint that dripped into their beards and onto their armor.

  When every warrior had received their mark, they returned to their spot near the pyre and set the bowls down on two logs that had been cut for this moment.

  “Odin, Allfather, seer of fates! See the fallen giant and know the strength of your sons and daughters!” Thorve shouted.

  “Freyja, Lady of War, drink the courage that flows from these warriors' veins!” Kojala called out.

  Both women picked up the horn next to the bowl of blood, dipped it inside, and held it to their lips.

  Together they blew, two notes ringing out, echoing off the forest around them.

  “Call to your gods! Let them hear you! Let them see your victory!” Thorve shouted.

  One by one, voices called out.

  “To Thor, the one who splits the storm!

  “To Freyr, whose blade sang with us!”

  “To Tyr, who lost a hand and showed us to keep fighting!”

  “To Odin, our father who gives us strength!”

  The chants grew louder and more fevered, their shouts announcing to any creature that could hear them their devotion to the gods.

  Both women blew one more time on their horns and silence came upon them all when they stopped.

  Setting the horns down, they picked up the bowls and turned, tossing the remaining blood into the fire.

  When the blood came into contact with the pyre, the flames changed from orange to blue, and smoke rose, curling into the shape of a one-eyed man.

  Einar felt his chest tighten and heard the gasps of every other Viking near him.

  The smoke grew as another shape appeared, a golden boar followed by a falcon-winged woman.

  All three rose into the night sky, vanishing as it reached the top of the trees.

  The crowd stood in silence.

  Somewhere in the trees, a sound none had expected came.

  A single raven cried out once.

  “The gods have seen,” Thorve said.

  [ All of Asguard has witnessed your battle and offering. A boon has been granted ]

  [ You offered the best and gave honor many might not give. You faced a foe that would crush a warband, yet your diligence and bravery led to victory. All of Asguard has sacrificed a part of their power. For one month the penalty of death shall be reduced to one-fourth. Fear not death. Cleanse this land of its enemy. ]

  Einar turned to see everyone looking at the man or woman beside them.

  Hardened warriors' tears ran down their cheeks, washing away part of the blood the healers had poured on them.

  “Praise be Odin!” Einar shouted.

  “Praise be Odin!”

  Each Viking repeated that cheer a few more times as they hugged each other and laughed.

  “Did… did you see that boon?” Thorodd whispered to Einar. “One month.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “I did. Now then, let us celebrate. Tomorrow we need to take what we can and ride hard. A boon like this cannot be wasted.”

  Laughing, the giant of a man shook his head and clapped Einar on the shoulder.

  “It appears you have become a true leader. Giving just a little bit of celebration before requiring work just a moment later.”

  Shrugging, he gave his second in command a gentle shove and turned to see his wife approaching him.

  Avitue was grinning from ear to ear and he picked her up, swirling her around once before kissing her.

  “The gods… they… showed themselves to us. You, my husband, are blessed,” she whispered in his ear. “

  “You say that like you only now realized that,” Einar teased. “I mean, they already gave you to me. What else could I need?”

  Groaning, she put a hand on his neck and pulled his head close, kissing him again as the sounds of celebration surrounded them.

  “Forget this group, we need to turn in. You need to be reminded of how special of a gift I really am.”

  ***

  “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

  Bartia frowned, taking her eyes off the dying fire and looked at him.

  “What I saw last night. When it comes time to report to those above me… they may not believe it.”

  “That’s not on you,” Einar replied. “You bear the scars of having survived a fight against two giants. What more could they ask of you?”

  The dwarf reached up and touched the right side of her face. Part of her beard was gone, and the skin had healed, with only a tiny scar present.

  “I… I owe your wife for what she did. Had she not–”

  “You owe her nothing,” he said, cutting Bartia off. “You saved her just moments before. In battle, we watch out for one another and do not keep score. She would feel dishonored if you mention that to her again.”

  “But I’ve heard that Skardi mention a few times he owed you a death.”

  Laughing, Einar shook his head and tossed the stick he had been playing with in the fire.

  “That is an old joke between the two of us. We met long ago when we were teens. He was an asshole with a stick like the one I just threw up his ass.”

  “I can see that,” Bartia stated. “So what, he doesn’t owe you?”

  Sighing, Einar shrugged.

  “I’ve saved his life he said a few times. The greatest lesson he learned from me was when I killed him as a teen. We fought in the tournament and he was hot-headed, too proud of himself and believed he deserved whatever he wanted. I was the one who showed him he was wrong.”

  Frowning, Einar rubbed his face for a moment.

  “I was a fool back then as well, but thankfully, Odin let me win that fight. It set everything we’ve done in motion. My victory secured my position with my jarl. It allowed me to grow into the warrior that I am. Had that moment not gone the way it did, I do not believe I would be here today, sitting across the fire from you, listening to the sound of Vikings snoring from drinking too much.”

  “And what does that have to do with me?”

  “I’m getting there,” he said with a wink. “Some call it the threads, others call it fate. Each of us is born for something and you my friend, were born to be part of all this.”

  She snorted as he motioned to the camp around them.

  “Drunk and sleeping Vikings… it appears the gods must have a sense of humor.”

  Chuckling, Einar couldn’t help but laugh for a bit as the dwarf smiled.

  “Yes… but you also have a friend with my wife and her shield maidens. You’ve managed to see the truth of what is coming. Perhaps you shall be the dwarf who ignites a fire in every forge in your realm. Perhaps the stories you tell of what you have seen and been part of that will help us and the other realms be prepared for Ragnarok.”

  Her smile partially vanished as she bobbed her head.

  “I cannot promise they will do anything like what you hope. We dwarves are… stubborn and thick-headed.”

  “Which is why you survived a tree trunk to the face.”

  Bartia snorted and shrugged.

  “One of the reasons, yes. But what is it you really hope I can do? I won’t be able to get you a better deal on any dwarven gear. I cannot convince a smith to make you anything. Again, I am young. My beard is not as long and my voice does not carry the same strength as others. Had Scrombles come on this trip and seen what I have, his words would do much more.”

  She sighed, breaking the stick on her legs in half and tossing it into the flames.

  Einar stood and moved toward her, pulling his axe from its loop and offering it to her.

  “Hold this and tell me what you feel.”

  Both eyebrows became one and Bartia grasped the handle, immediately letting go as her skin wrapped around it.

  “I… I felt magic and it… didn’t seem happy I was holding it.”

  “Try again,” Einar said.

  Taking a deep breath, Bartia grasped it again, her hand twitching as she started to lift it from his hand. Grim determination was written across her face as she clenched her jaw.

  “Now then, if you needed to use this weapon as nothing else was around, could you overcome that sensation?”

  “I mean, if there was no other option, of course,” she replied. “Even now I can feel the sensation of… displeasure, but with no other choice, I’d ignore it and defend myself.”

  Nodding, he motioned for her to return his axe and smiled as her whole body seemed to relax after letting go.

  “You were like this when we first met,” Einar said, returning to his log. “Stubborn, hard-headed and a pain to deal with.”

  She snorted, scowling at him but said nothing.

  “Just listen. You aren’t that person anymore. Inside you there is still some of that. It occasionally shows itself, as it did just now, but you have learned to ignore it. You realize that what is coming requires you to overcome it. Just like you said a moment ago, if the need to fight with this weapon was there, you’d ignore the pain it causes you.

  “Likewise your king and fellow dwarves are going to learn that what is coming is going to cause them pain. They will not want to change. One of the things you dwarves are known for is your love of good alcohol, a vein that runs deep with ore, and being stubborn.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Sometimes it’s good to resist change,” Einar replied. “You will find that some people are easily swayed, forgetting why things were done a certain way, only to realize too late that it was a mistake. My people right now are like that. They have forgotten what we are supposed to be. They forgot the task Odin gave us. I am fighting against that every day.

  “Your people have been steady, doing what they must because what you do is create armor and weapons like no others.”

  Looking all around him and leaning forward, Einar motioned for her to come closer.

  “Don’t ever tell any elves I’m about to say this,” he whispered. “But we both know dwarves make better weapons and armor.”

  “Well, of course we do,” Bartia declared. “Why would you–”

  He twirled his axe around before her face and smiled.

  “It’s a good axe. It cut your hammer into pieces. Does that mean dwarves should stop making weapons and let elves do it from now on? Of course not. So what I need you to do is find a way to lead your people to see we’re not asking them to change. We’re simply asking them to do what they do best but for us and the rest of the realms.”

  “So you’re not wanting an army of dwarves to fight with you?” Bartia asked.

  He could see her frown and shook his head.

  “Would I be honored to fight side by side with your people? Yes! But that is something you all must decide, what you will do. For now, I need your people to help us acquire items, weapons, and armor. The rest of this will be on our shoulders. Don’t forget what I told you already. We’ve still got to visit the dark elves.”

  She grunted and spat, her scowl not hidden by her beard.

  “That… may not go well.”

  Roaring with laughter, Einar didn’t care if he woke a Viking or two up.

  “So it will be like every other day on this journey of mine. Thankfully, the gods appear to love me.”