Kara buried her head against Karl’s shoulder and wept in silence.

  As he held her, Karl looked up at the Bifrost—its radiant arc stretching closer to Gotland. The storm of gods was nearly upon them, and they were not ready.

  39

  CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF DEATH

  Viktor’s warriors arrived earlier than expected. In the midst of their depression, they got two simultaneous warnings. One was from the System.

  Bifrost arrival: 08:52:08

  The second was from a messenger who came running from the palisades. “They’re here, my Jarl,” the messenger said, out of breath.

  It was the worst news at the worst time.

  Karl had sat with Kara along the edge of the farm terrace, watching the slow descent of the Rainbow Road. When they received the news, they hadn’t moved far from Glær, who was still lifeless. The hundreds of villagers and warriors had slowly trickled away at the sight of the lifeless Glær.

  It had caused a major blow to morale.

  System Message: “Morale 0%. The loss of their god, Glær, has dealt a devastating blow. Debuff applied: –50% Health Regeneration.”

  And now the news of Viktor’s men arriving set Karl on edge. “Looks like he wants to keep us distracted,” Thorstein muttered. Björn, Mýra, and Egil joined Karl and Kara as the news pressed down on them like a boulder.

  Mýra kept quiet beside Björn, now completely human after sacrificing her Huldra tail, the whole in her back now full. She would be defenseless in the coming fight.

  Kara was silent beside Karl as they stood to their feet. Karl tried offering his hand, but she didn’t accept it. She just kept looking into the abyss. Karl could only hope she wasn’t thinking about jumping off.

  At Karl’s word, they left the terraces and dashed to the palisade.

  When Karl got to the top of the palisade, he was somewhat startled by what he saw. There were over a hundred Vikings, which he expected, each wielding weapons crackling with lightning energy. They all looked confident, as if they weren’t completely outnumbered by Karl and the several hundred waiting within Visby’s walls.

  But he knew that could change when Viktor arrived, who was not actually with his men at the moment. Karl looked up toward the rainbow Bifrost road, ever coming down to Gotland. It would probably land a couple of leagues away, so they’d have to leave in the near future.

  But as soon as Viktor achieved his 10th blessing and summoned a massive storm here, all of these Thor-blessed would become unstoppable. The lightning would tear apart Visby.

  They had several dozen who were Thor-blessed, whom they reserved, but the rest were Freyr-blessed, and they didn’t have any Thor statues left, thanks to Viktor’s earlier sabotage by Nils. The amount of lightning that would be coming from Viktor’s host would be too much with a god empowering them.

  Karl realized then that, had he not taken steps to win over the Jarls earlier, they could be facing a completely different story. It could have been them, with only two of the Jarls versus ten hosts of Jarls. This math would have completely changed.

  Perhaps it had been impossible from the start. At least now they had a sliver of a chance.

  “Shoot anyone that gets too close,” Björn muttered to the archers on the wall. Each of them was blessed by Ullr, just like Karl.

  “We can’t stay here,” Karl said as he led his friends down the steps of the palisade and back toward the center of Visby. “I can Elf Leap us across his host,” Karl said. “But I’ll need someone to stay behind to hold down the fort.”

  “I will do this,” Thorstein said, limping beside them while looking over at Egil, who had also gone quiet after the ritual. “They are likely to attack us as soon as Karl is gone,” Thorstein continued. “Will you stay and help me?” Egil nodded but didn’t say anything more.

  Karl left Thorstein and Egil behind. He gave space to Björn and Mýra, who had a moment together as the two of them went to talk beside Hof Visbýr. Mýra was undoubtedly unraveling from having lost her magic and failing to save Glær.

  Karl looked over to Kara and tried to muster the courage to ask her how the smithing process had come along with Knut.

  But Karl couldn’t bring himself to force Kara to speak, though through their Pack Link, he could see flashes of her thoughts—most of them grim. He brushed her hand as they walked, ignoring the bleak stares from families and children they passed along the road.

  When they reached Knut’s forge, the old blacksmith’s house loomed before them. He was startled to see the long spear standing before them, planted into the ground. It now had a steel-forged shaft as Knut held it, his hands calloused and scarred.

  “It’s done,” Knut said, his gaze flicking up. And then, quietly, he said, “It was good, having something to do. Thank you.”

  Karl knew exactly what he was talking about.

  With a snap of his hand, Knut had his apprentices help Karl lift the massive metal spear from the anvil. As Knut directed his servants, Karl’s mind leapt to the Roman Emperor Maximus and his golden pilum. The weapon was famed and unmatched. Why hadn’t Maximus appeared to kill Viktor already, now that Viktor was becoming a powerful rival? The question gnawed at him as they worked to help him drag it to the Hall.

  If this doesn’t work, Karl thought, the town is finished.

  When they reached the Hall, Karl set the spear down in the snow before Hof Visbýr.

  “Be careful,” Kara whispered, her hand brushing his arm as he prepared to move.

  “I’ll try,” he said with a faint smile. Karl stared at the spear and felt a knot in his gut, his smile faltering. Elf Leaping while clutching something this big would be awkward and dangerous.

  Kara, sensing his thoughts, opened her bag and pulled out spare leather. She helped him bind the shaft across his back, cinching the straps tight.

  With a quick nod, he drew his bow and Elf Leaped to the corner of Hof Visbýr’s roof, balancing carefully on the ridge. It was the tallest point on the hall and the town.

  As much as he hated destroying the roof, he channeled all his strength into ramming the spear straight down into the turf. It didn’t take much effort to drive it through and anchor it near the thick oak beams beneath.

  “You’re going to have a hole in your roof now,” Ratatoskr snickered.

  “Let’s pray this works,” Karl said, rolling his eyes.

  Below, the blacksmith’s servants were carrying the heavy metal chain to the nearest wall. From his vantage point, the spear felt secure. Across the field, Viktor’s men watched him. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking—a Jarl standing on a roof, wielding a giant spear.

  At least Thorstein had already begun directing the archers. He ordered them to guard the spear and surround Hof Visbýr, many climbing ladders to secure the perimeter. They needed to protect the weapon at all costs if they hoped to counter the Thor-blessed and stop their storm from unleashing devastation.

  Not wanting to waste another moment, Karl slid down the roof and leapt off, rolling through the dirty snow as he landed beside Kara. Together, the three of them followed the blacksmith’s servants as they connected the chain to the Dwarven rune walls.

  Karl expected a System notification or some kind of magical surge as the spear linked with the runed palisades, but nothing happened.

  “I’m guessing because there’s no lightning yet,” Kara said.

  Karl couldn’t shake the fear that it had all been for nothing—that Visby would be destroyed regardless.

  “We just have to hope it’ll work,” Kara said. She looked deflated, yet a spark of resistance still burned in her eyes. Though her drive had gotten her best friend killed, Karl could still see the same Valkyrie fury beneath the surface. It could save her—or get her killed.

  “We have a little time left,” Karl said quietly. “There’s one more thing I want made before we go.”

  “Are you sure we have time for this?” Ratatoskr asked as Karl and Kara crowded into the old tavern kitchen. Everyone else was outside, while Sigrid worked to equip the warriors with the food she had prepared.

  “It’ll only take a moment,” Karl said.

  “Be quick,” Kara said as they returned to his old place in the cramped but familiar tavern kitchen.

  It wasn’t going to take long. He already had some of the Stormbreaker Stew that they would be using in the upcoming battle, but he wanted to be sure he could make more—especially since he could no longer revive himself. He gathered the leftover reindeer blood they had bought for the feast, added iron root shavings, frost berries, charcoal, and barley, and began to mix it all.

  As the blood pudding thickened, he could feel Kara’s eyes on him while he stirred clockwise and added the iron shavings to give it more weight. Their eyes met, and he could sense the longing behind her gaze.

  “Can you forgive me?” she asked. The Trickster, who had been making a mess nearby, was thankfully thrashing about in a pile of food across the tavern, giving them much-needed space.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Karl said, slowing his stirring.

  In another pot, he prepared a venom to coat his arrows, hoping it might slow Viktor down.

  Silent tears rolled down Kara’s cheeks.

  “I’ve been so foolish,” she whispered, looking away from him. “This quest to become a Valkyrie… it’s all so foolish.”

  “No,” Karl said, pausing to take both her hands. He glanced down at her right hand, which looked as if it had never been severed.

  “I think…” Kara began, her voice trembling. “I think I just wanted her life to mean something.”

  The memory of Frigg being used by the Cult of the Eternal Night flashed through Karl’s mind.

  “It does,” he said, pulling her closer so that their hips embraced. “This—what we’re doing—is fighting to defend the innocent. People like Viktor care nothing for others. They destroy everything in their path.”

  “That’s what I did,” Kara hissed, lowering her gaze as more tears fell. “I never deserved to live.”

  “It’s not over yet,” Karl said, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. He still couldn’t understand how someone like him found the courage to speak that way, and he could only attribute it to the werewolf nature swirling in his blood. “Let’s make it worth it—for both of them.”

  Her crystal-blue eyes softened.

  Charisma (+10): lvl 3 (10/40)

  Glory (+20): 1,930

  Level: 35 (70/360)

  Karl ignored the distant notifications. It didn’t matter that his power had increased just from speaking. Kara smiled again, and in that moment, she pulled him even closer. Their lips met, and her tears trickled into his mouth as they kissed.

  “OH MY GOODNESS,” Ratatoskr groaned, his cheeks stuffed with food. “You two just can’t get a break, can you?”

  Karl and Kara laughed, but didn’t let the squirrel stop their affection. When they were finished, Karl returned to finishing the dessert and poison. He finished enough of the blood pudding for everyone—two portions each. After about twenty minutes, the puddings were packed, tied, and stowed away. The venom was ready too.

  Item: Járnblood Pudding 2x (Legendary) — Effect: +70 HP and +40 Stamina restored instantly. Grants Ironheart Buff for 30 minutes (divine potency applied): +30% Physical Resistance, +25% Bleed and Poison Resist, +20% Stamina Regeneration, 15% Health Regen rate, immune to Exhaustion and Fatigue effects.

  Item: Níðfang Venom (Epic) — Effect: 30% Movement Speed, -10% Attack Speed for 15 seconds. Victims take 40 Poison Damage per second for 10 seconds. And also causes instant vomiting.

  And because of his record time cooking, he received a bump in his Health tree. Now maxed out in his Cooking, he would have to advance further by the training of a master like Sigrid.

  If only they would survive after today.

  Health (+20): lvl 11 (20/110)

  Glory (+40): 1,970

  Level: 35 (110/360)

  “Vomiting,” the Trickster said, his eyes amused as he looked at the potion effects. “I hope you don’t prick yourself with that.”

  “Don’t tempt me with dumping it in your food,” Karl said, receiving a snicker in response. Turning to Kara, he said, “Ready to go meet Thor?”

  Kara nodded, fierce determination in her eyes as they left the kitchen for what might be the last time. “Let’s go kill this Blessed Bastard.”

  By the time they reached the palisade overlooking Viktor’s host, the System warned them that they had very little time left.

  Bifrost Arrival: 07:24:02

  Night had already fallen, making the Bifrost far above them stand out even more against the northern lights. It felt like a slow nuclear bomb descending—death arriving in pretty colors.

  It was a strange sight to behold.

  They found Thorstein, Egil, Björn, and Mýra waiting for them, along with two horses standing atop the palisade, their breath fogging the cold air.

  “They haven’t made any moves yet,” Thorstein said, crossing his massive Werebear arms as he glared toward Viktor’s men.

  Karl followed his gaze. The enemy had set themselves up within the treeline—just far enough to be out of bowshot from Visby’s archers. They would undoubtedly attack the moment Viktor arrived, which Karl hoped wouldn’t happen soon.

  “Just because they’re Thor-blessed,” Thorstein said, “don’t think they won’t chase you once you teleport to the other side.”

  “We’ll ride as fast as we can,” Karl said, nodding to Björn, who mounted one of the horses. Karl, Kara, and the Trickster mounted their own, staying close enough so they could all teleport together.

  “Don’t cause any trouble while I’m gone,” Björn muttered playfully to Mýra as he leaned down to kiss his now-human lover.

  “It’s hard to do that now,” she said quietly.

  Karl half expected her Huldra tail to flick, but nothing came. She was even wearing more clothing now that her forest magic was gone—her green dress pulled tight around her frame, covered by one of Björn’s fur capes that nearly swallowed her whole.

  Egil didn’t look at Karl as he prepared to fire an arrow. Karl frowned at the usually jovial poet.

  “I’ll give you an epic story to write about, okay?” Karl said, offering him a small smile in hopes of encouraging him.

  Egil looked up, but his frown didn’t fade. He merely grunted, and Karl had to take it as it was, for they were out of time.

  The plan was to reach the Bifrost early and Elf Leap as high as they could onto the rainbow bridge, hoping for a head start against Viktor. Karl only prayed a storm wouldn’t come, since that would let Viktor fly straight up the Bifrost.

  Then, with a sickening realization, Karl remembered that Viktor could already summon lightning.

  “Oh gods,” he muttered. “I completely forgot.”

  “What?” Kara asked, wrapping her arm around his waist.

  “Viktor can summon a lightning storm since he reached level nine,” Karl said. “It’s quick—it doesn’t last a full minute like his level ten blessing will—but he can use⁠—”

  His words trailed off as lightning flashed in the distance. Thunder cracked.

  They saw what was unmistakably Viktor—flying upward along the Bifrost, followed by a dozen Thor-blessed.

  “We’re late to the trial,” Karl said, cursing as he fired an arrow 110 meters into the forest beyond.

  40

  TRIAL OF THOR

  They hit the ground running the moment they teleported into the forest. But as soon as they did, shouts and hollers erupted from all sides as arrows whistled past them.

  “They knew we were coming!” Karl shouted, kicking his horse to full speed.

  Björn cursed and threw up a Bifrost barrier behind them.

  Over a dozen arrows—each charged with magical enhancements like frost and lightning—slammed into the rainbow barrier just in time, including the light shield that Kara raised behind them as some of the artillery managed to get past Björn’s defenses. But Karl was too focused on Viktor, who was already charging up the rainbow road.

  “Of course, Viktor would cheat,” Karl muttered. That was always how he operated.

  “Can you get a shot up there?” Björn shouted as they tore through the night, weaving between trees and trying to outpace Viktor’s men.

  “I’ll have to,” Karl said, gripping the reins tightly. The Bifrost was far higher than 110 meters, and even if he aimed perfectly, landing on top of it would be almost impossible. He could maybe hit the underside—but the curved top was nearly invisible. His arrow might not even reach that height.

  Through the Pack Link, Kara’s calm confidence spilled into his thoughts. She believed in him.

  But if he failed, they would all die.

  “This is going to sound really dumb,” Karl began, his mind racing as the horses thundered forward.

  “That’s not much of a change,” Ratatoskr said, his tail flicking as he clung to Karl’s shoulder.

  “I’m going to teleport us to the bottom of the road,” Karl said. “Then, Björn—I need you to create a Bifrost bridge underneath us.”

  “And what if he doesn’t do it in time?” the Trickster asked.

  “I’ve got my rocket rune,” Karl said, slapping his Dwarven Bag. “As long as you all hold on to me, I can activate it once we’re up there. Preferably before we plummet to our deaths. Makes it easier to fly.”

  “And we’ll make up the ground Viktor’s already gained,” Kara said, realizing his plan.

  “Exactly,” Karl replied.

  Björn laughed for the first time in a long while. “I’m glad my father gave Visby to you. Your ideas are more fun.”

  “Thanks?” Karl asked, not sure if it was a compliment.

  They stopped their horses a minute later, directly beneath the Bifrost. It was still impossibly far above. The thought of the plan failing made Karl’s stomach drop.