“Wait!” The vísir disarms Aura, causing the axe to drop onto the sand. “Cease your attack!” Instead of kicking away the axe, the afterlife warrior cradles it in her hands.
Aura forms a sword and shield from ice, stepping toward the vísir. She lifts the sword, aiming for her neck just as the vísir removes her helmet.
The woman is no older than herself, with beautiful raven locks and matching wide eyes. “By the gods! Are you Sigvid Thordsson’s daughter?”
“Yes. My mother is Avina Redwood.”
The vísir assumes an honorable kneel with her father’s axe. “In my mortal life, I was known as Helga. A Drengr and Inner Circle member of your father. The man I am instructed to reap immediately to the Depths is Calder Avardsson, a fellow Drengr.”
Aura’sseidrvanishes, leaving her with the pain of uncertainty surrounding the man lying unresponsive at her feet.
Helga rescued her pregnant mother from Thrain, her uncle, who sought to force her into a marriage to unify the country. Avina always spoke highly of the only woman, besides Grandma Frida, who loved Thrain Thordsson.
Helga rises, twirling the blackwood axe. “Your father was the strongest man on the continent.” She returns the weapon with a look of fondness. “And how can you see me? No mortal can behold a vísir.”
Aura contemplates the question, her fingers pressing against the nautilus shell she holds up for Helga to see. “I carry the Treland Sacred Stone.”
Helga nods in understanding.
“Is Calder…? Can you help him?” Aura collapses to her knees, pleading internally with Briny for healingseidr
Please don’t abandon me, Calder.
Helga settles at her side. “What is your name, child?”
“Aura.”
“Aura, I was summoned by the goddess Gullveig to deliver him to the Depths.”
Gullveig, but why?
“However, my existence in the mortal realm is contingent upon his soul. If he wakes, I must leave. Let me help you move him to safety to receive proper healing. For old times' sake.”
Aura clutches his cuirass, and a quiet, bitter tear trickles over his heart for his folly. “Fine. We must regroup with our two companions.”
Helga assists Aura with Calder, whose dead weight feels like that of a grizzly bear.
“What brings you here?” Helga sheaths Freyja while Aura holsters her father’s axe and straps Makt’s great axe to her back.
“We needed a weapon to kill a god.” Aura spits, fixating solely on the throbbing ache in her heart at the thought that Calder may not survive this ordeal. Envy pricks at her mind as she watches Helga bear his weight easily.
Why does Aura lack the strength to carry him out alone?
Nevertheless, they navigate their way back through the tunnel to the Great Hall.
“Argnier! They’re…half back.” Edmund yells as he runs toward them.
Her companions skid to a halt. Their expressions of relief fade to confusion.
“How are you supporting him? Is this someseidrshit?” Edmund stalks around Helga, unable to see her carrying Calder.
“What happened? The temple is damn near covered in ice.” Argnier stares at the Iss Drengr, whose head lolls onto his chest.
“A vísir helps me bear him, but we must reach Fitz’s shack if we hope to save his life.” The final word catches heavily in herthroat.
Argnier rubs the back of his neck. “Well, shit. We'd better get a move on. Can’t have the Ice Prick melting on us.”
“Aura,” Helga stops her from following her companions back towards the entrance, “these temples always possess a back door.”
