Six Vikings were bent over the map that the dwarf had just given them, each frowning slightly as they studied it.

“This is to scale?” Osvif asked.

“Measured in dwarven feet!”

“I’m guessing there is a conversion for that,” muttered their tactician. “Still, the distance then is more extensive than we had anticipated. And this section here?”

Looking over the Vikings, Scrombles saw where Osvif was pointing and snickered.

“That is the mountain entrance. You’ll need to travel through there to reach the inner part of our realm. It is mostly safe, but there are occasional creatures that attack it. With how many animals and people you all have, there is no doubt that will happen a few times.”

Pulling a piece of string out, Osvif began marking off distances and then shook his head.

“Do I want to know?” Einar asked, seeing the frown on his friend's face.

“The first pass is further than we anticipated. Going off the portal to where we are now, we’re two or three days from that pass. It should take us about a day to move through that section, leading to whatever this area is.”

“Trees, a swamp, lots of nasty things.”

Everyone turned to see Bartia who was standing behind Avitue after she spoke up.

“It’s filled with trolls, though they aren’t much of a problem. Most dwarves can take one on their own. It's when they group up in packs of ten or more that things get nasty.”

Glances were exchanged, and Jepi chuckled.

“Did she really just tell us that there are packs of ten or more trolls at a time and not bother to look worried?”

“Makes you feel like less of a Viking, doesn’t it?” Vidar teased.

Both men grinned as the dwarven warrior snorted at them.

“It doesn’t matter what swings between your legs. What matters is what you swing with your hands and if you can actually do something with it.”

Avitue burst into laughter, and Bartia joined in a second later as the two new pack leaders found themselves at the butt of a joke.

“Forget it,” Einar said, pointing to where Osvif had been measuring. “We have three days to get to the pass. I want a group of four scouting ahead, take some horses, and find out if we can spot any of the giants.”

He paused and narrowed his eyes at each Viking around the table with the map.

“Do not engage it. Ride back to us. No matter what, this is not a fight we want to have without everyone there. Any questions?”

A few shook their heads, but no one spoke, and Einar dismissed everyone but Avitue with a motion of his head.

“You run a tight ship for one so young and bare-faced,” Bartia stated. “How are you doing this?”

“Because each of them knows in a fight, they want me on their side, and none of them win when we duel.”

The dwarf glanced at Avitue, who nodded and gave a slight shrug.

“He isn’t bragging. Watching him take apart most men like they are children is rather painful to watch. Even the ones with eight runes do not stand a chance against him.”

Puffing out her chest, Bartia rubbed her beard.

“Perhaps I should offer a chance to duel you. We could see if you’re as good as they say you are.”

A groan came from Scrombles, and the older dwarf rubbed his eyes.

“I will go and fetch our healer… something tells me a fight is about to occur.”

***

Shouts came from the Vikings and dwarves, all cheering and chanting for the one they wanted to win.

A thirty-yard circle had been drawn, and Bartia spat, blood sticking to her beard from where she had wiped her arm.

Einar had landed an attack against her arm, cutting the leather armor she wore and slightly slicing the skin beneath it.

He was keeping a watchful eye on her two-handed hammer.

“I’m going to make you pay for that,” the dwarven warrior stated as she began to flex her fingers along the shaft of her weapon.

“You already did that,” Einar replied, motioning to the now discarded shield split in two.

She hits harder than any of the other warriors I’ve faced. If I had to guess she is stronger than most of the trolls we have faced.

Grunting, Bartia came again, swinging her hammer. The distance it provided kept him away, unable to bridge the gap unless he was willing to take another hit.

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“Stop running!”

Rolling to the side and dodging a downward swing that hit the dirt, Einar immediately moved toward him. He ignored the taunts coming from Thorodd, who was apparently enjoying this fight because of the smile on the man’s lips.

Dozens of holes filled the area they were in, each one a few inches deep. The six-inch section of dirt busted up from where Bartia swung, never pulling her attack. Each one was meant to end this fight one way or another.

Minutes passed and Einar realized that unlike many, this dwarf wasn’t going to tire, never seemingly winded, no matter how many swings she had made.

“You’re strong but slow,” he taunted, dancing away again and retreating a few steps. “Perhaps you should practice running more.”

Never once did Bartia respond, ignoring his taunts, not letting him get under her skin.

Soon, ten minutes had elapsed, and the cheers had gone silent. All of the Vikings stood there, looking on, perplexed, as Einar never attempted to do more than a half-hearted swing.

After another minute, a horn sounded and both of them stopped, turning to see Scrombles shaking his head.

“It’s over, well done.”

“Well done?” Bartia asked, wiping a thin layer of sweat from her forehead with a wrist. “He’s done nothing but dance around and only scratched me once.”

“And yet you’ve never landed a hit. Tell me, which of you would tire out first? You or him?”

“Bah, do not give me that. I am a dwarf, and we do not get tired!”

The older dwarf nodded, moving to stand between the two, his eyes studying Einar as he frowned.

“Tell me, what would it take for you to show her your true potential?”

Grinning, Einar held out his axe and called upon his wyrd, covering it with fire.

As Bartia gasped, he held out his left hand, calling more fire and sending it upward into the sky.

“You can cast magic?! How? A warrior cannot fight and use both!”

“I’m not just any warrior,” Einar replied as he cut the flow of wyrd. “For the last ten minutes, all I did was study your pattern. Unlike most, you rarely repeat yourself, but they are there. Had I wanted to, I could have ended this fight, but since we are leaving in the morning, I did not want to injure you.”

“Bah! Do not boast like that!” Bartia exclaimed. “Be a man and prove it, or I call troll shit on this show you put on!”

Glancing up at Scrombles, the older dwarf nodded.

“Don’t hurt her too badly. We can heal her from most wounds enough that as long as you don’t cripple a leg, she is still useful.”

Red coloring filled Bartia’s face as she fumed, glaring at the two men.

“Do you think I can’t hear you? Why are you–”

“Silence!” Scrombles shouted, holding up a single finger. “You wanted this next part. I tried to save your honor and your skin. Do not blame me when it hurts and you don’t sleep tonight.”

His brown eyes seemed to shake as the older dwarf glared at her, his eyebrows becoming one.

“Ignore my advice all you want. Today, you shall see what I see after a lifetime of fighting.”

With that, he turned and moved out of the circle, leaving the pair to dance once more.

“Forgive me,” Einar said, slightly bowing as he backed up. “I meant no disrespect and do not wish to hurt you.”

Rage never left the dwarf’s face as she glared at him.

“Blow the horn!”

A few seconds passed after her demand, and the peal of it rang out, filling the area that had been deathly silent.

Gone was Bartia's calm demeanor, which che had shown for so long. A red hue colored her tanned cheeks as she moved toward Einar. Driven by her rage, each swing of her hammer moved quicker than before.

Dodging a set of three attacks, Einar adjusted to her quickened pace, measuring the gap between them.

His whole body began to glow, flames rising along every part of his flesh, covering him completely.

Like a fire elemental the Viking moved, his blond hair moved like strands of flames and for the first time he noticed the change in the dwarven warriors eyes, realizing that something was about to happen.

Bartia slowed her attacks, shifted her stance, and held the hammer in a guard position, seeing the look in Einar’s eyes.

“I’m coming.”

The words stuck, forcing the dwarf to take another step back. Then, the Viking did just what he promised.

His axe moved toward her weapon, not for Bartia’s body, but for the very thing she depended upon to attack and defend with.

Bringing it forward, she parried only to hear a crack and feel the vibration that shook down the shaft and into her arms.

Another strike came, followed by half a dozen more, each of them striking the same spot on the weapon head, raining down like water from the sky during a storm.

Then they stopped, and half of the hammer head fell to the ground.

Everyone’s eyes studied it, the precision at which it appeared to be chiseled off with.

“Last chance,” Einar said, setting himself for another attack. “Next time, it will be your flesh.”

“I… I surrender,” she muttered, staring at the end of her weapon, still trying to understand how it had happened so fast.

The horn blew, and the silence that had been there for so long turned into roars and applause.

Einar nodded and slipped his axe into his belt, holding a hand out toward the warrior.

“You fought well, and I can see how you handle a troll on your own. Forgive me for doing what I did to your weapon but I did not want to hurt you.”

“You… you don’t understand,” Bartia replied, sliding the shaft between her hands, touching the area where he had cleaved a section of metal from it. “This ore… it isn’t like most. To do what you did…”

“Is a sign that the gods have chosen him,” Scrombles stated as he arrived near them. “Now shake his hand and let us end this farce. Tomorrow, you must lead them to where they will hopefully do for us what they did for the elves.”

The older dwarf had to clear his throat once more before Bartia broke out of her dazed moment and reached out, shaking Einar’s hand.

“I’ll… need a new hammer.”

Laughing, Scrombles nodded.

“Alright, let us clean up this mess and then prepare for tomorrow. Vikings, I have places set aside for you to sleep. Forgive me if the beds are larger than you are used to.”

Most laughed, but Einar noticed the looks from the pack that Unnulf had sent. Each of the men was quieter than the rest, and even Jepi seemed shocked by how wide his eyes were at what they had witnessed.

“You put on a show,” Avitue whispered as she slipped an arm around his and led him to follow the older dwarf. “Seems they had not believed everything those stupid songs say about you.”

Groaning, he gave her a kiss and then winked.

“I’d rather only have to teach this lesson once. Trust me, I get tired of doing it over and over.”

She hip-checked him and laughed.

“That is a lie, and we both know it. You love showing off.”

“Got your attention, didn’t it?”

The pair moved as one, laughing the entire time, acting like ordinary people in love and not the warriors that they really were.