The Shadows of Svartalfheim: Eschaton Cycle (Gods of the Ragnarok Era Book 7) by Matt Larkin

Author:Matt Larkin [Larkin, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Incandescent Phoenix Books
Published: 2018-08-13T00:00:00+00:00

20

Gelderus had camped his forces atop a hill just south of the border between Kalevala and Pohjola. Against most armies, it would’ve offered a secure spot, forcing their foes to attack uphill, all while the Kvenlander snipers picked off those trying to make the climb. Hödr had chosen it for that reason. Because Rutto would—with luck—believe Gelderus thought himself secure up top, while Hödr and his remaining crew hid in the undergrowth in the valley.

A decent plan. Not a great one.

The problem with getting involved with armies was the chaos. In a small skirmish, Hödr could make out friend from foe by their auras. But with dozens, maybe over a hundred warriors engaged, all of them driven to fury, desperate, all mashing about together, it became a tumultuous maelstrom of blood. He couldn’t easily tell where a given man ended and the next began, much less make certain he wouldn’t wind up stabbing an ally.

War suited him ill.

Maybe it suited all men ill, but they courted it, just the same.

All he could do in this situation was wait, and hope he’d be able to figure out where Rutto was among the attackers. Assuming the attack even came.

“Shouldn’t be lingering here,” Kasmira complained.

“Not hardly,” Gudbrand agreed. “Fucking mist everywhere, and those arse-munching kobolds hunting for us. We ought to run straight into the heart of Kalevala and keep running until we’re on a godsdamned boat straight to Sviarland. Or Bjarmaland. Even the damn Deathless liars work out better than what … fucking Ingfred! Worst thing I ever saw in my whole damn life, that’s a fact.”

“Keep your voice down,” Hödr said. “I’ll see to it their shares get to their families.”

“You’re not seeing trollshit,” Gudbrand mumbled.

Hödr chose to ignore him. It was better that way. Better than losing his hired crew. But if this continued, they’d turn on him. At best, they’d flee as Gudbrand suggested. At worst … He could almost see it in the man’s aura. The overpowering need to blame someone for the horrors he’d witnessed. To kill someone.

After finding out Hödr was an Ás, they’d worshipped him. For a bit. Until the shock had worn down. Until they’d spent days lingering here, underfed and given too much time to think. Now they were scared. Sometimes, men did wild things rather than admit their fear. Wild, like turning on their own.

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