Page 19 of Alien Viking's Passion

She was being lifted by a strong, gray arm, overgrown with moss and lichen. A big, pale eye shot with black veins stared coldly at her from outside the mesh.

They were clearly trolls, but they didn’t look like the ones Josie had told them about. And these ones were standing outside in the bright afternoon sun, and not turning to stone.

In fairy tales and stories, trolls were stupid and mostly comical. These ones were not like that. These were scary. They had a mindlessness to them, but they also radiated menace. Their limbs would make hard, stony grinding noises when they moved. It felt as if they didn’t have a heartbeat or even a body temperature.

“Wife,” came a slow, unpleasant voice, like stones scraping against glass.

“My wife,” came another, and more eyes perused Aretha in the creepiest way.

“Our wife,” said the third. Well, at least they were speaking Gardr, although it was barely possible to understand.

“I’m not your wife,” Aretha spat. “I’m not a troll! Let me go! Now!”

“Pretty,” one voice said as the troll holding the net threw it over his shoulder and started walking up the hill.

“Pretty,” agreed another.

Hanging in the air with her head down and legs up, Aretha drew breath, then screamed like Eira had done: “Troooollls!”

She didn’t expect a reply, but she repeated the call four times until her voice went ragged. For some reason the trolls scared her more than the skrymtir had. They were zombies and had obvious weaknesses. These things here looked extremely robust, like bedrock. They smelled like flint, and they moved with a slow determination. And of course she hadn’t faced the skrymtir alone.

The noise from Eira’s battle had been quiet for a while, and there was no sign anyone was coming after her.

“Trooollls!” Aretha tried one last time. “Heeelllp!”

7

- Craxon -

“We couldwalkfaster than this,” Craxon fretted. He subconsciously leaned forward, trying to get the shortship to move faster.

“They don’t work that well anymore,” Bragr said beside him. “The Big Shine that has ruined our longships have made these things slower and less agile. We should be grateful that they work at all.”

“While it lasts,” Craxon grunted. “They’ve been getting slower steadily for weeks. And I think they hover closer to the ground now.”

Bragr drew his sword and examined it. “It looks like they are all about to fail completely. But if you think you can run faster than this, then do so. I would not put it past you, Craxon. But this is the fastest shortship we have in all of Hjalmarheim.”

“Forgive my bluster, Bragr,” Craxon growled. “It’s the frustration talking. You know I admire your shortships. ButI want to get there and see these skrymtir! Can it be true? Skrymtir on this side of the mountains, now? After we defeated Gornt and destroyed all his unholy creations?”

“The scream was reported by many. A shieldmaiden battle cry, clearly saying ‘skrymtir’. None of my shieldmaidens would do that unless it was both true and urgent.”

Craxon looked behind them. Far behind he saw another shortship following them up the hill, towards the ancient planted forest. The warriors had been tense and grim when they dropped everything and threw themselves into the conveyances, obviously not relishing another battle with the terrible skrymtir after the war with Gornt. Everyone was worried about what they might see. If a single one of their friends was battling several skrymtir, then her odds weren’t good. And there had been no yells since that first one.

Craxon stood up in the shortship, steering it with one hand. “What wasthat?”

Bragr froze and stared ahead. “Another call!”

They listened intently while the shortship quietly made its way up the hill.

“Trolls!” Craxon said when he heard the distant yell again. And that voice… he could barely hear it, but it sounded familiar. “It says ‘trolls.”

Bragr frowned. “Surely not!”

Craxon listened, staring emptily into the woods. But the call didn’t come again. “Is it really that hard to believe? If there can be vettir on this side of the mountains, surely there can also be skrymtir and trolls. Anything is possible during a Big Shine!” Hesat back down and tried to eke more speed out of the shortship as they approached a dense forest.

It was Bragr’s turn to stand up. “Who is that? Mighty Zhor, is it Eira?”

There was a shieldmaiden on the ground among the trees. Around her on the ground there were skrymtir, most cut down and not moving, while some had broken legs and were waving their arms helplessly. Some were moving in circles, having only one working arm, others were dragging themselves towards the unconscious shieldmaiden.

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