Shardfall, The Shardheld Saga, #1

CHAPTER 1 - SKYSHARD (Part 2)

Halfway up the mountain they paused. In the valley below Muus saw the longhouses and the silver mine of Eidungruve, contrasting with the dark blue of the Long Night. A door opened and warm light shone. Warmth, the thought brought tears to his eyes. A plume of smoke rose from the bake-house, conjuring up images of Siga's fresh bread and hot porridge. For a moment, Muus thought he could smell the food and his stomach cried out. That mangy mongrel Kjelle was so fanatical to prove himself to his father, that his thrall missed his meal. And for what? To disturb the spirits of the mountain? Unwise foolishness. Cold, hungry and spitting mad, Muus turned away from the view across the valley.

'Muus,' commanded Kjelle. 'Come here. I'm hungry. '

The young slave hurried to his master, who without a word began rummaging in the backpack.

'Ah,' said Kjelle pleased, pulling out a round loaf of bread and a piece of cheese wrapped in linen. Eagerly he set his teeth in the bread, while Muus, seething, repacked his ransacked bag.

When the Holderling had eaten his fill, he threw the last chunk of bread to Muus. 'Here, that puny body of yours doesn't need much.'

The youngest of the three karls, Jal of the Fine Boots, waited until Kjelle had turned his back and shoved a chunk of hard cheese in Muus' hands. 'Take it,' said he. 'I have enough.'

Muus brought his hand to his head in thanks, his heart filled with bitter resentment. Jal's well-intentioned gift hurt his pride as much as Kjelle's beatings. Just in time he stuffed the chunk into his mouth, because Kjelle gestured them back on the path. Muus started to walk again, his curses stifled by the cheese.

After a bend in the path, Hagen halted. He peered at the ground, uncertain like a hound that found a fresh bear track. 'Holderling, the snow - I don't trust it.'

Kjelle cast a suspicious glance at the ground. 'What about it?'

The karl hesitated. 'I don't know if it is safe to go further. The snow isn't solid. An avalanche ...'

'Nonsense,' said Kjelle, turning away. 'The slope looks fine. Keep moving; we're almost at the high pasture.'

The nearer they came to the plateau where in summer the sheep grazed, the brighter the blue glow became. The last stretch seemed like walking through the cold fires of Helheim, past rocks and snow, covered with dancing light. Muus glanced at Kjelle's face. He noticed the glistening sweat on Kjelle's forehead, the staring eyes and the hasty white puffs of his breathing. Muus knew Kjelle was scared. Muus remembered Kjelle's training sessions with Oskar, the drunken, blustering weapon master. Muus had been there, guarding the Holderling's weapons, watching his master fight, sweating and shaking, while Oskar shouted and pressed him. Kjelle was always angry after those sessions with Oskar, angry at his slave, never at the weapon master. Muus laughed soundlessly. Kjelle must be the only Nord who'd completed his manhood's Testing by hunting a nearly dead bear. Muus had been there. He'd carried his master's spears and he knew someone else had gone first and done the real work. It was because the Holderling's life was precious and he couldn't be risked, people said. Muus knew the truth. The Holderling with his blustery mouth and his hard hands was scared.

After three hours on the mountain, they reached the plateau.

'By Thor's Beard.' whispered Kjelle. In the middle of the field was a hole, about a foot deep and round as the shield of a giant. The blue light radiated from the shield's center.

The men murmured uneasily. 'Alf work,' shouted Orn. 'We must get away from here, before the svartalves drag us into the mountain.' Muus saw his whole face contort in fear.'