CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
With the help of the map Tyr had given them, Erin and Stieg made their way through Svartalfheim with few problems, only needing the king’s necklace twice, and the need to kill once.
Kind of a relief considering what they’d already done.
The mountainside that was the doorway to Nidavellir, the land of dwarves, was not guarded in any way. Nor was there even a forest around for guards to hide in.
Erin and Stieg stood outside the open mountainside for a good thirty minutes, just staring at it.
“Are they really not worried? You know, about intruders?”
“Apparently not.” Still mounted on his beast, Stieg looked around. “Are we just going to sit here or are we going to go?”
“We have to go. We’re running out of time and I’m not sure how long it’ll take us to get to the Land of the Dead.”
They led their beasts toward the exit, but when they were a few feet away, the animals balked, rearing back, refusing to go any farther.
“Guess we’re on foot from here,” Erin said, dismounting and removing everything from the beasts. They even took off the saddles and bridles so the animals could roam free until other elves took them in or they made their way back to their home.
With weapons at the ready, Erin and Stieg entered the dark cave, but still . . . nothing. No guards. No soldiers. Nothing protecting the entrance into Nidavellir.
Erin stopped. “What are we doing?”
“Being cautious . . . ?”
“I’m so bored by that.”
“I really wish you’d gone to that appointment for the ADHD testing.”
“Come on. Let’s just go.”
“Erin—”
“Come on! It’ll be fun!”
“No. It will not be fun. It will be dangerous.”
“Don’t you want to live on the edge?”
“I’m hanging with you. I’m already on the edge.”
She took a few steps forward and raised her hands, unleashing a wide circle of flame and lighting up the entire area. Pulling her hands back, she turned to Stieg and said, “Oh, shit.”
* * *
They stood at what he guessed was the top of a set of very narrow stairs that led down and down until they could no longer see them. Unlike entering elven territory from Jotunheim, there seemed to be no mystical doorway that would simply take them to the next world. Instead they’d have to walk down the long, narrow set of stairs with no handrails.
“I can’t express to you how much I don’t want to do this,” Erin muttered, staring down.
“That makes two of us.” He thought a moment. “Maybe we can fly.”
“We’ll have to wait on that. All I see around the stairs is darkness. We can’t fly into complete blackness. Who knows what we’d fucking hit.” She was right, of course. Although the fact that they couldn’t see into the darkness surrounding the stairs meant that it wasn’t normal either. She even sent down a ball of flame and it was simply swallowed up rather than lighting the area.
Erin rubbed her hands together. “Let’s just do this.” Again, she was right. They didn’t have time to delve into their phobias.
“I’ll take the lead,” he said, but Erin’s arm shot out, halting him.
“So the guy with no flame and no flame protection should get in front of the woman with flame?”
“When you put it like that . . .” Stieg stepped back and gave a small wave toward the stairs.
Erin walked to the top of the steps and let out a long breath. Then she started walking. Stieg gave her a moment to get ahead and followed.
The entire time neither spoke as they walked down except to say when a break was needed. Then they sat on the step they were standing on and took that break, which was less for physical strain than an emotional one. After ten minutes or so, they carefully stood back up and started again.
It was one of the most unpleasant experiences Stieg could remember having. Even their time with the elves hadn’t been as bad. Because this was just . . . hell. And it felt like it lasted for days, terrifying because they had no concept of time. Except for the stairs being strangely lit, there was no other light. No sunlight. No moon. No torches. Nothing.
Even worse, there was the occasional sound of what he could only describe as scuttering. A word he was positive he’d never used in a sentence. But that’s what was coming from the stone walls.
Scuttering.
And the knowledge that something could come out at them from the darkness did not help the situation in any way. Especially when the last thing one wanted to do was jump suddenly.
This was not the place for any sudden movements.
But they kept going. They had to; they had no choice.
Erin stopped. Stieg assumed she was ready for another break, but she didn’t sit. She didn’t move forward. She just stood there.
“Erin?”
“It stops.”
“The stairs?”
“Everything. There’s like two more steps and then nothing but dark.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”
That was something he’d never heard Erin admit before, which meant she was really stressed out. Not that he blamed her. The mystical doorway between Jotunheim and Svartalfheim had been a swirling vortex, scary but also active. Like jumping into a raging river. It gave the illusion he might have some control. But nothing? He didn’t know what to do with nothing. And clearly neither did Erin.
“So what are our options?” Stieg asked.
“We could stay here forever.”
“Seems a tad illogical. We can go back up the stairs. See if Dualtach can help us.”
“Dude . . . back up those stairs? Are you high?”
“You have dancer’s legs,” he teased.
“I do. But I’m not about to walk back up those fucking stairs.”
“Then we don’t have any other options.”
“Okay. You’re right.”
He watched Erin stand there, taking in deep breaths like she was about to run a marathon.
“Erin Amsel.”
“What?”
“You’re a Crow.”
“Yeah?”
“And I’m a Raven.”
“Your point?”
Stieg went down two steps until he stood right behind her. “And we were chosen by gods. Not to worship them, but to fight for them.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up until she was trapped against his chest.
“Stieg Engstrom, what the holy fuck are you doing?”
“We are Vikings.” He held his screaming woman tight and jumped into the black.
“Stieg! You mother . . .”
* * *
“—fucker!”
Báraldur heard the screamed curse and looked away from the sword he had in the fire. He sighed. “Dammit.” Leaving the weapon in the fire, he walked to his front door and yelled out, “Vikings!”
Báraldur’s wife came in from the stables and gazed down at the pair who’d burst uninvited into their home. “You picked this gods-forsaken place,” she complained, “and then you bitch when they come through the bloody door.”
“The rent was cheap, wasn’t it?”
“You’re cheap.”
“Just get them up.”
“You get them up!”
But the pair didn’t need any help, because they got up fighting. The man using his arms to block his face from her blows and the woman calling him every horrible thing in the book.
“You do that to me again and I’ll cut your legs off!”
“We had no choice!”
“Fuck you!” She was only a foot or so taller than his wife, but she was skinny. A wisp of a thing.
The man also stood, but he kept growing.
For a moment, Báraldur thought he might have been wrong. Maybe the man was from Jotunheim. They never came this far, the giants, but there was always a chance. Life was chance.
Thankfully, the growing stopped and he realized that what stood before him, arguing with the woman, was a man, not a giant.
“I should set you on fire!”
“I had no choice, Erin! You were just standing there!”
She roared and turned away from him but stopped quick when she saw Báraldur and his wife. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. We thought we were alone.”
“Yes,” the man said, “we—”
“No one’s talking to you!” the woman barked.
The man threw up his hands in frustration.
Báraldur saw his wife bow her head, hiding the smile on her lips.
“You’re from Midgard,” Báraldur noted. “Land of the humans.”
“Yes,” the man answered. “And we need to get to Corpse Shore.”
The woman faced the man again. “Why don’t you just fucking announce it to everybody?”
“Are you just going to keep yelling at me?” he yelled.
“Yes!”
Báraldur’s wife, unable to stand the fighting another second, went to the woman and took her hand. “Come, girl. Let us get you some food and water from our kitchen.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She gazed up at the red haired woman. “But you will come nonetheless or I’ll make sure we are seeing eye to eye for the rest of your life. Understand my meaning?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Then come.” Báraldur’s wife led the woman away.
Once they were gone, the man said to Báraldur, “The situation we were in . . . I had to do something.”
“I believe you, Viking. But I don’t think she gives a fat fuck.”