“You lot better hurry! He is winning!”

The exhaustion Einar felt had never been greater since the pack left Kopanes. This race was taking its toll and charging double. Shouts and curses from behind notified him that the last lap around the camp was closer than he had expected.

Even running all out the moment Thorodd had said go hadn’t worked. Trying to make this group of warriors run out of stamina like the other men he trained with, seemed impossible. Jarl Bior had been too kind with the gift of these gold coins.

Each of these Vikings were beyond a normal thegn. Everyone of them except for Osvif and Skardi could easily be a housecarl if they were willing to sit safely inside a building, twiddling their thumbs.

None of them had that desire though.

The pounding of boots on the dirt should have been enough to know the seven men behind him were not quitting, yet Einar allowed himself one more glance over his shoulder.

Fire burned in their eyes like the flames that currently surrounded his hands.

Curse Thorodd for making me run while I burn my Wyrd… this is about impossible…

Ragged breaths begged him to give up but his mind wasn’t that weak. No matter how bad his body hurt, he was the leader of this pack and the only way Einar would admit defeat was to fall because his body gave out.

Cheers from the men and women who managed the wagons for this pack came as they stopped their cooking or repairs, watching the thegn who already had stories being sung about him in longhouses struggling to stay ahead of his pursuers.

Most cheered for the hounds and not the rabbit.

Copper and silver had been wagered by most that the rabbit would be caught.

A wagon marked the second from last turn and Einar forced his legs to keep moving. Lactic acid had announced its presence a while back and his muscles continued to try and lock up. Each stride was a battle, knowing losing meant he would fall face first into the ground.

Scuffed sections of soil were growing deeper and wider from feet pounding the grass that dared grow in the place marked out for their workout.

The turn provided a small glimpse of his men as Einar planted his outer foot and pushed off it sharply, making sure to not stumble as he slid a little on the upturned dirt.

Less than fifteen yards away was Bodalf and Thorleif. Both were the shorter Vikings in his pack, yet each was faster than the others, outpacing them by a good ten to thirty yards.

Those two were from the same area of mountains, their black eyes locked on him as sweat flowed like a river down their bare chests. Even more sweat ran down Thorleif’s bald head.

Wearing nothing but a pair of short breaches, he could see the seven tattoos each of them possessed.

“Don’t let your meal get away!”

Thorodd’s taunt seemed to spur on both men as they somehow shouted amidst their ragged breaths.

At the last wagon as he turned, Einar saw Thorve, their healer watching him. She shook her bald head, smiling as she held up eight fingers.

Shit! They're catching up!

Knowing they were closer and still about a hundred yards remained, Einar called upon the trickling amount of Wyrd in his body, forcing the power to go through him, helping him to stay moving. The exhaustion he felt lessened slightly as the power filled his muscles.

Groans came from the camp when they saw him start to pull ahead and then a roar erupted.

Thorodd stood at the finish line, holding his hand out, waiting for Einar to tag it and end the race. There was only about seventy yards to go but even over his loud breathing and the pounding of his heart, Einar could hear footsteps behind him like never before.

The flames grew on his hands as he drained himself dry, begging for the last bit of power.

A sensation came upon Einar. For a brief moment he understood the plight of an actual animal. Knowing a hound was just a few steps behind, the hot breath on its fur, teeth ready to bite into its flesh, gave him a jolt of adrenaline.

Ten yards was all that was left and Einar dove for the outstretched hand, smiling as he saw it coming close.

The contact of skin upon skin ended the race.

Cheers erupted and Einar lay on the ground where he had fallen, trying to breathe as the soft, warm dirt entered his nostrils.

The flames vanished and he groaned as Thorodd’s massive hands grabbed him and stood him up.

“So close! Touched at the end by Bodalf!”

Trying to nod as he began to recover, there on the ground just a few yards behind him was the one who managed to touch him as he dove. A hand upon his back, marked with the red paint that had been put on all the hands of the hounds who had pursued him.

“It would appear you are not invincible,” Thorodd whispered as he left the leader of their pack on his feet, moving to where Bodalf lay, caked in dirt like Einar from having crashed into it.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“Our Champion!”

Holding the dirty, sweat-covered, red hand of the one who managed to catch their leader high, cheers came and a weak smile appeared before Bodalf coughed and then started puking.

Laughter came from the workers before the sharp whistle Thorve possessed cut it short.

“Back to work! Be ready to feed these warriors!”

Finally able to catch his breath, Einar watched as all nine men crossed the line, collapsing on the ground, not caring about how dirty they were becoming.

“How? How did you catch me?” he asked between breaths.

Wiping his mouth, Bodalf pointed at Thorleif who was grinning, his bald head streaked with dirt and red paint where he had obviously rubbed it.

“He pushed me… from behind… helped me to catch up…”

“Good teamwork. You two get first pick from tonight's food.”

Both men were grinning, coming together to clasp each other in a sweaty hug of celebration.

“It would appear I shall be eating last,” Einar stated as he moved to help the other men up. “Promise me next time we play this game, Thorodd is the rabbit and not me.”

A few chuckles came as each warrior was able to stand, their runes and natural stats high enough that in about thirty minutes, each of them would be ready to run again for miles if needed.

“We tried little one,” Skardi said as he slapped Osvif on the back. “One day we will be able to keep up with these thegns.”

Without wincing or grimacing from the sting of the giant's playful strike, Einar’s childhood friend nodded.

“Perhaps one day Odin will grant me longer legs so I can keep up with you.”

Others moved over and congratulated the two they all knew were the weaker of the pack.

Watching like a mother hen, Einar studied how the group was coming together. The training they did were games designed to bring them together. Each one had been focused on different aspects. Strength, speed, endurance, intelligence, teamwork and more.

In four days they had begun to form bonds, sharing tips and pointing out weaknesses each found during the sparring they did.

One day was all that remained before they arrived at the portal that would take them to Alfheim.

Laughter came between a few difficult breaths as the group of men made their way toward the food that was ready for them.

Thorodd stood next to Einar as he watched the nine warriors, pushing, shoving and acting like brothers, nodding as a slight smile appeared.

“You’re smarter than I thought… even for one as young as you. They feel and act like a pack that has been together for some time.”

“I have Bior to thank for that and you know it,” Einar replied, motioning toward the cooks. “Those men know how a pack should be and they have taken Skardi and Osvif on without any hesitation. A sign of honor and wisdom.”

Snorting, Thorodd pointed at Hallad who was animated as he told something to Skardi, waving his hands up at the taller warrior’s face.

“You forget each of these men trust you enough to risk their lives and the runes they have spent a lifetime collecting. If you say that Skardi and Osvif are worthy of this pack they will trust you. Besides…” Thorodd paused as he looked around to make sure no one was nearby. “That first game was all about making Osvif stand out and we know it. His mind is sharp and his attention to detail helped his team win.”

“And after that everyone made sure they picked him first.”

Both of them laughed as they increased their pace, not wanting to miss out on getting any meat, well aware the others were not above taking it all.

***

“Allow me to remind you men that what you say and do in the Alfheim does not just impact you.”

Thorve’s blue eyes sparkled in the light of the fire as she swept not just the warriors but the rest of the workers in the pack.

“We will be tested, made to prove ourselves before we can hope to be treated as a real guest. The light elves are gracious and kind, and you fools have all heard of their beauty but do not think they will appreciate you gawking at them like a dog in heat.”

A few chuckles came, but her ice gaze stopped those foolish enough to do so.

“They worship Freyr and if you are foolish enough to say Odin is better, be prepared for a quick trip back to Midgard. Much can be forgiven but do not doubt their devotion to their god.”

Einar couldn’t help but smile as he listened to their healer share the wisdom each night of what they were going to face. She was a gift from Jarl Unnulf. He wanted his son to achieve great things and upon hearing Einar’s plans from Jarl Bior, the man sent her, paying her wages so that they would be prepared.

So many people are making moves to help us succeed… Odin, I know you have a hand in this somehow… I guess I’ll owe you a sacrifice when I return to Kopanes…

“... and do not forget, the dark elves are going to be trickier to deal with. They are just as important in our visit but hopefully we will secure our foothold with the light elves before making the trek to their realm.”

“Are you certain we can accomplish the quests they give us?”

Einar and the rest studied Hogni, the only one who was truly skilled with a bow. He was working on making arrows, dipping his finger and applying the glue to the fletching he had carefully picked out.

“Do you not believe we can?”

Rolling his blue eyes, the warrior shook his head at her.

“Why must you always answer a question with a question? You know what we will possibly face. The creatures that live there are why we are here. Only you have ever been to their realm before. So tell us, how hard are these tasks going to really be? You have been unwilling to say for certain, leading us on like a young girl at a bar who fails to mention her father has promised her hand already.”

Howls and hoots came from the warriors as each of them laughed, some harder than others.

Waiting for silence, Thorve stood and held up four fingers.

“You will face creatures far worse than the trolls you normally must deal with. The elite one that was guarding the portal will be the only one beyond what they may request us to face at first. There are monsters and animals that will give our leader's shadow walkers a scare. They seem to appear out of the shadows, taking your heart with them and vanishing before you know it is gone. Others will lure you with songs, drawing you into a trap you cannot see, only aware that you died when I pray to the gods and you find yourself back at our stone. Even worse are those which are considered kin to a dragon. Strong, powerful, and worse, flying.”

“What’s the fourth one?”

Everyone turned to see Osvif who was focused on their healer’s fingers.

“Excuse me young warrior?”

“You have four fingers and only mentioned three terrible things. What is the fourth one?”

Cackling, Thorve nodded and grinned.

“I’ll wait till later to share the fourth one, otherwise some of you might seek me out in the middle of the night, needing a potion to help you sleep and to calm your fears.”

Groans came as the men realized she was holding back something, yet none pressed the matter when Einar stood.

“Get some rest,” he said as he saw them all turn their focus upon him. “She can torture us later before she heals our wounds. Just be ready at first light. Tomorrow we will arrive at the portal.”