The Frostians

Chapter 18

### Chapter 18

The summit of the mountain loomed ahead, the air thin and biting with cold. Kristian and Alysandra moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the path for any sign of danger. Mimir’s head, swaying at Kristian’s side, was uncharacteristically silent, the usual banter replaced by a palpable tension.

As they crested the ridge, they saw it—a stone fortress nestled against the jagged mountain cliffs, ancient and imposing. The walls were weathered but still strong, etched with runes that glowed faintly in the dim light. Guards patrolled the perimeter, tall figures clad in gleaming armor, their eyes sharp and vigilant.

“Einherjar,” Mimir muttered, breaking the silence. “Warriors chosen by the gods, brought to Valhalla and trained for the end of days. They’ll be tough to get past.”

Alysandra’s eyes narrowed as she studied the fortress. “Why would they be guarding this place? What’s so important here?”

Kristian’s grip tightened on his frost axe. “We’ll find out soon enough. But first, we need to get inside.”

Mimir’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I can feel it… something’s wrong here. There’s an energy—a presence.”

They made their way carefully down the rocky slope, keeping low to avoid detection. The Einherjar were formidable, towering over mortal men with an aura of unearthly power. They moved with purpose, their movements disciplined and calculated. This was not an enemy to be underestimated.

Kristian motioned to Alysandra. “We’ll need to be quiet. If we alert them, we’ll be overwhelmed.”

Alysandra nodded, her Valkyrie sword already drawn. They moved like shadows, slipping between rocks and ruins until they reached the base of the fortress walls. From here, they could see a heavy iron gate, guarded by two Einherjar.

Mimir’s voice was a low murmur. “Those are seasoned warriors. They won’t go down easily.”

Kristian glanced at Alysandra, their eyes meeting in silent agreement. There was no other way—they had to fight.

In a swift motion, Kristian surged forward, his frost axe cutting through the air with lethal precision. Alysandra was right behind him, her sword flashing as they descended upon the guards. The Einherjar reacted instantly, their weapons raised in defense. The clash was brutal and swift—icy sparks flew as Kristian’s axe met steel, while Alysandra’s sword danced in fluid arcs, finding weaknesses in their enemies' armor.

The Einherjar fought with the strength and skill of warriors honed in the afterlife, but Kristian and Alysandra fought with the desperation of the living. With a final, powerful strike, Kristian brought his axe down, shattering the guard’s shield and driving him to the ground. Alysandra followed suit, her sword plunging through the chest of the second guard.

Panting, they stood over the fallen warriors, the cold wind biting at their skin. “Let’s move,” Kristian said, his voice low but urgent.

They pushed through the iron gate, entering the fortress’s inner courtyard. The stone walls rose high above them, casting long shadows in the fading light. At the far end of the courtyard stood a massive door, adorned with intricate carvings of battles long past. Beyond it, they could sense what they had come for.

Alysandra’s eyes flickered with anticipation. “This is it. He’s inside.”

Kristian nodded, stepping forward to push open the heavy door. As it creaked open, they were met with the sight of a large chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches. In the center of the room was a figure, bound in thick iron chains, kneeling on the cold stone floor.