Only to explode into ash, weapons and armor dropping into a pile on the ground.
And not just him.
All around us, the draug sworn to the jarl turned to ash, the curse binding them to this place broken with the death of their lord. I gaped in amazement as weapons and bits of armor clattered to the tunnel floor, ash billowing up in choking clouds.
If only that were the end of it.
Those who’d come into these tunnels to search for the lost treasure and died for their efforts remained, for it was not the jarl’s greed that had cursed them, but their own.
Teeth clacking, they filtered into the chamber, warily eyeing the burning axe that Bjorn held once again. Fear warring with an endless unsatiable hunger for living flesh.
Bjorn retrieved my sword for me, and with my newfound knowledge of my gift I covered it with magic as we stood back-to-back. “There are fewer of them,” he muttered. “Unlike the jarl’s men, these are not trained warriors.”
Yet they had numbers.
My grip tightened on my sword, fury rising hot and fast inside me, drowning my fear. Fury that these shells of men would be the end of us despite all we’d done. Despite how hard we’d fought. Snorri and the others said that I was favored by the gods, but was this how they showed their favor? The draug were bound here by the will of the gods and the will of the gods alone, which meant it was the gods’ will that we face them.
“I curse you,” I hissed, not certain if I meant the draug or the gods or both. “I curse you to Helheim, you shades of men. May Hel rule you until the end of days, for you do not deserve the honor of Valhalla!”
The air in the tunnel abruptly turned to ice, and beneath my feet the ground quivered with such violence that I’d have fallen if Bjorn hadn’t caught my arm.
The draug shrieked and tried to flee, but before any went more than a step, what looked like blackened tree roots reached up through the tunnel floor. They wrapped around each of the draug, the creatures screaming as they tried to claw their way free.
I recoiled against Bjorn, shock stealing my breath when, as one, the roots descended and disappeared.
Leaving only scattered bone and scraps of clothing in their wake.
They were gone. All the draug were gone.
“Good to see the gods finally being helpful to our cause,” Bjorn said, but his voice was stilted, devoid of its usual humor.
I swallowed because the alternative was to vomit. “I suppose we needed to pass their test.”
“Not we,” Bjorn said. “You. Though you took your time doing it.”
“I believe the words you are looking for are thank you for saving my arse, Freya.”
The quip stole the last of my bravado. My legs buckled and I fell on my bottom, resting my forehead against my knees to stop the spinning.
Bjorn sat next to me, holding out a waterskin, from which I took a long drink. “It was my idea.”
“Your idea?” I tried to glare at him, which was hard, given that I was on the verge of fainting. Or puking. Or both. “How could you have possibly known that would work?”
“I couldn’t.” All the humor vanished from Bjorn’s face as he clasped my forearms. “But I knew that you’d do what needed to be done.”
“Your confidence is misplaced.” I remembered how I’d hesitated. How afraid I’d been.
Bjorn tilted his head, his expression considering. “I have a great many doubts,” he finally said. “But the courage of Freya Born-in-Fire is not one of them.”
My chest tightened even as a flood of warmth filled my body, because no one had ever given me such a compliment, about something that mattered so much. It meant even more coming from him. I searched for the words to tell him so, but instead found myself arguing. “I’m not courageous. I was terrified to pick it up. Terrified that it would burn through my magic. It was shameful that it took me so long to overcome my cowardice.”
Bjorn let out a laugh that sounded oddly strangled. “If we are having a moment of honesty, in those last few seconds before you killed the jarl, I had some concerns I might shit myself out of pure terror.”
I snorted out a laugh, knowing full well that he was trying to make me feel better. “Bjorn, the only thing you shit is bluster and foolery.”
“It was a valid fear.” He reached down to pull me to my feet, drawing me up the tunnel and away from the remains of the draug. “If you’d made it out alive, it would only have been a matter of time until your tongue was loosened by wine and you told everyone what truly happened. Then not only would I be cursed for eternity to these tunnels as a draug, I’d forever be known to mortals as Bjorn Shitshimself.”