“They foresaw greatness,” Torvin whispered. “But is it yours? Or is it for the taking?”
Snorri’s face darkened and, rotating his axe head up, he shoved the haft into Torvin’s mouth, smiling as the man choked and gagged, clutching at his throat before finally going still.
No one spoke as Snorri straightened. “Ready the horses. We ride through the night to Fjalltindr.”
Bjorn cleared his throat. “They cut the lines and scattered the horses. It will take some time to track them down.”
“We don’t have time,” Ylva said. “You heard him—every jarl in Skaland is coming for her.”
“We’ve lost a third of our men,” Bjorn said. “We should return to Halsar.”
Blood dribbled down Snorri’s face, and I found myself staring at what looked like bits of skull caught in his beard. “No,” he said. “The specter said that if Freya isn’t able to give sacrifice on the first night of the full moon her thread will be cut short. And if she’s dead, I will not achieve my destiny.”
How many will die in the quest to get me to that moment? The question rippled through my thoughts, and I gripped my sword hilt. All this death for a chance at power.
“If what Torvin said is true, then more will be waiting to ambush us on the path up the mountain,” Bjorn said. “It’s narrow and we’ll be at a great disadvantage against those holding higher ground.”
Silence hung over the survivors of the battle, and though my fate sat at the center of this, I held my tongue.
Because I did not know which way forward was best.
If I didn’t make it to Fjalltindr, it meant I was dead, so turning back wasn’t an option. But that didn’t mean I’d survive pressing forward. Perhaps not even the gods knew for certain.
“There’s another path,” Snorri said, finally breaking the silence. “You and Freya will go that route while the rest of us provide diversion.”
Bjorn stared at him. “You don’t honestly mean…？”
“No one will think to guard that route.”
“Because only a lunatic would attempt that climb,” Bjorn exploded, sending a flood of unease through me. If it was dangerous enough to dissuade Bjorn, it must truly be madness to consider it.
I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, but before I could speak, Snorri said, “The gods have set Freya to this test, and Hlin herself has set you to guard her back.”
“No.” Bjorn was pale. “I’d rather fight my way through every clan in Skaland than go that route.”
“Which route?” I demanded. “What is this path you speak of?”
Snorri didn’t so much as look my way, but Bjorn’s gaze met mine. “It’s called the Path to Helheim. It’s a set of stairs and tunnels that runs inside the sheer side of the mountain.”
The idea of tunnels set my pulse to thrumming, as I had no liking for being underground, but I didn’t think Bjorn would blanch at the idea of confined spaces. “What is so dangerous about it?”
Bjorn’s tone was flat as he said, “It’s full of draug.”
The undead.
My skin crawled as memories of the stories I’d heard as a child filled my mind, corpses that couldn’t be killed with mortal weapons.
“Allegedly,” Snorri said. “There is no proof.”
“Hard for there to be any proof when any fool who attempts the climb is consumed,” Bjorn snapped. “The area around the entrance is littered with bones. Not even animals will venture close.”
“There is no choice.” Snorri’s hands fisted. “Freya must be there for the full moon. The specter told her that she must earn her fate, which means she must pass every test the gods set for her.”
“The specter spoke in riddles,” Bjorn retorted. “You might unwittingly be sending Freya to her death.”
“Is it Freya’s death you fear”—Snorri’s face was hard as granite—“or your own, Bjorn?”
No one spoke. No one even seemed to breathe.
“Are you my son or are you a coward, because you cannot be both,” Snorri said softly. “Choose.”
It was no choice, I knew that. Either Bjorn walked toward death and kept his honor, or he lived and was branded a coward, which meant he’d be exiled and ostracized by all he crossed paths with.
Stepping forward, I said, “I won’t condemn anyone to die just to spare myself death. I especially won’t condemn anyone to spend eternity as a draug.” Because that was the fate that awaited anyone who was killed by one.