26. Golden Warrior II
Stronger than me...
That made Tryg even more worried. However, it also made him slightly pleased. If she was capable of cutting the monster, then they had an even better chance of winning that challenge.
Tryg nodded to himself and made sure Sinmara was safe again, using the only eye he could still keep open. Then, without wasting any more time, he put his shoulder back in place, grunting — something he had painfully learned during his training with his teacher — and, with his sword at the ready, joined the stranger.
The warrior pulled out the blade and, this time, tried to pierce the colossus's skull. It, however, twisted its body, forcing the woman to retreat so she would not be crushed. She stopped right beside Tryg and, soon after, bent her knees, preparing to advance against the monster once more.
"Wait!" Tryg called, lightly touching her shoulder.
The woman looked at him over her shoulder, her yellow eyes narrowed, and pushed his hand away. "Look, I appreciate your help, really." She extended the sword's hilt to him. "But I don't take orders from you."
Tryg gestured for her to keep the blade. Another risk he was taking, but it was better for her to have a longer weapon.
"I don't have the right to command anyone, miss," he said, calm, "and I don't want to. What I want is to win this fight and get out of here alive. You too, right? So—"
The shadow of another boulder appeared, striking the woman and crushing her. Tryg widened his eyes as he heard something large being torn from the ground. Without thinking, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, the warrior's forehead touching his chest.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, trying to break free from him, but stopped when she heard the boulder passing right behind her a moment later. She probably would have managed to dodge; she seemed fast and strong enough for that, even injured and tired. But Tryg did not want to risk it.
"Come." He released her and began running around the monster. The warrior hesitated for an instant, but followed him. "Since you seem much stronger than me, I'll focus on distracting it, and you, miss, on finishing it off."
They did not need a complex plan. Not when they had no experience fighting together; not against a colossus without allies, one that apparently did not use magic. Still...
"Anything to add?" he asked, seeking information.
Running beside him, she stared at him and, after a thoughtful pause, shook her head. "No. We don't need to complicate things with an ogre."
He smiled, satisfied. "You can kill it, right?"
The stranger frowned. "Do not insult me. Even weakened, I could defeat an army of these hideous things."
"Right..." She could be strong, but Tryg doubted that a little. "Then I'll go first. When you find an opening..."
"I know what to do. You do not need to explain how the world works to me."
Tryg's smile withered. For a moment, the prospect of having a partner who would help him reach Ivaldi's Workshop had made him happy. Yes, he still had suspicions about her, but he could not help imagining it and being glad about it. Except... he felt it would be very stressful to live with her.
Tryg exhaled. He came to a sudden stop, turned back to the colossus, and advanced with the sword beside his body. The ogre tore another boulder from the ground, but did not throw it this time. It squeezed the rock between its hands, crushing it into hundreds of smaller pieces, and hurled them violently.
The good news was that Sinmara was not in the line of fire. The bad news was that Tryg was, as was the stranger. He held his breath. Time slowed again. Analyzing the hundreds of shadows of the small, swift projectiles, he swung his sword again and again, breaking or redirecting each of the fragments away from him and the warrior. One or another slipped through his guard, but only those he judged harmless or capable of causing nothing beyond scratches.
Tryg crossed the storm of stones and reached the colossus. A punch came next, and he dodged it and opened another cut in the creature's skin, the smell of rust brushing his nostrils. The ogre roared, preparing another devastating attack with its fists joined. Tryg, however, was already waiting for that — as soon as the colossus raised its hands, Tryg leapt onto its knee... and pierced its armpit.
When the monster had unleashed that desperate attack for the first time, Tryg thought he had imagined things when he noticed that the skin beneath its shoulders seemed smoother, thinner. But during the second time the colossus had raised its arms, he had confirmed his suspicions. Indeed, the region of the monstrosity's armpits seemed to be far more sensitive and less resistant than the rest of its body.
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He smiled. Thank you for making me so observant... and so paranoid, sometimes.
The ogre roared in pain and fell to its knees. With his feet planted on the monster's chest, Tryg used the sword as support and propelled himself away, dark blood drawing an arc through the air. The monster tried to grab him, tried to retaliate. But it was already too late.
Before Tryg even landed, the warrior took advantage of the distraction — she dashed under him, reached the colossus, and thrust the sword into its throat. Then she twisted the blade and cut to the side, opening its throat and making a waterfall of black liquid spill down into the snow, staining it.
The ogre widened its crimson eyes and brought its hands to the deep wound, emitting desperate gurgles. Then it fell to its knees and, soon after, collapsed with a boom that made the earth tremble and clouds of snowflakes rise.
The battle was over. Tryg let out a long gasp, more than glad it was done. He sheathed his sword, grabbed a flask of Idunn juice, and, without hesitation, without even caring about the ogre's corpse or the cracked bones in his arm, ran to where his teacher was.
Fortunately, she had remained far from danger the whole time. And not by chance, mind you. In truth, Tryg had not disregarded her presence and location even once, and, by keeping her constantly within his field of vision, had guided the fight so that nothing could strike her or notice her. He felt rather proud of having been able to accomplish something like that while fighting a new monster of the labyrinth at the same time.
I guess I'm getting stronger...
Tryg drank the Idunn juice, then knelt beside the sleeping fox. After confirming with his own eyes that she was all right, he let out a long sigh and sat beside her. There, while taking sips of water from his canteen, he began identifying his wounds and calculating how much Idunn juice he would need to drink to at least return to action with a good portion of his strength.
More than I'd like, he concluded. And that's not even mentioning that I'm not the only one hurt here...
New sounds of footsteps approached him, light and measured. Tryg raised his gaze and stared at the stranger approaching him, Sinmara's pale sword shining in her hand, stained with the ogre's blood. One of her eyes was swollen enough that she could not see anything with it, but the warrior still looked tremendously threatening.
Feeling a chilling pressure tighten around his heart, he gave the fox beside him a discreet glance, then returned to staring at the warrior, expressionless. His wounds were being healed, but he was still far from fully recovered... He was in no condition to defend himself, much less his teacher.
Tryg raised a hand toward the stranger, making her stop about five steps away from him. "Before you come any closer, miss... I'd like you to tell me who you are."
She tilted her head, not letting go of Sinmara's weapon. "Usually, people introduce themselves first before asking who the other person is."
Tryg remained silent for a moment, then simply answered, "You're right. I was rude."
He stood and gave her a respectful nod, bowing his head. "My name is Trygve, miss, son of Frida." As he straightened, he continued, "First of all, I'd like to thank you for your help with the ogre. Without you, I'm not sure I would've managed to defeat it."
Be as polite as possible, he thought, tense. Don't irritate her.
The stranger exhaled. Now that the swelling in her eye had gone down, thanks to the Idunn juice, Tryg could see even more clearly how oppressively dignified the woman's bearing was. She stared into his eyes, making him tremble for one infinitesimal instant.
However, immediately after, her eyes widened, and she dropped the sword and fell to one knee, keeping one of them half-bent for support. Then her head bowed deeply, and her lips said:
"I am sorry for my rudeness, sir. Your eyes, I... I had no idea. Please, I beg you to forgive me."
Tryg blinked, stunned. "Um... It's okay, miss. You don't need to apologize."
Still with her head lowered, she nodded. "Thank you. I am honored by your generosity, my lord."
He scratched the back of his neck, not knowing what to think of the reverence. Well, there could only be one explanation for all of that. The woman had to be a warrior who had served the gods in the past and, upon noticing the unusual color of Tryg's eyes after the swelling went down, she had reproached herself for the way she had addressed him.
But that was still no reason for him to lower his guard... Quite the opposite. If she had served the Aesir in the past, he would need to be even more cautious. Especially because, despite his bloodline, Tryg wasn't exactly a god allied with the people of Asgard. If anything, he would probably describe himself as their enemy, actually.
Something I probably should never tell her.
"Look, you don't need to bow to me, or call me sir," he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. "Although I am who I am, I'm only 17 years old. Surely, miss, you're older and more experienced than me. If anyone should show respect here, it's me."
"That would stain my honor, sir. Please, do not do that."
Honor must be a very serious matter to her... Tryg exhaled. "Sure. But at least keep your head up. Oh, and stop using honorifics. It makes me uncomfortable."
She rose and nodded. "I'll try."
He sighed again, recovering the other sword of Sinmara that the woman had dropped and sheathing it. Then he gestured to her and asked gently, "Um, could you introduce yourself now?"
"Ah." She cleared her throat, placing a fist in front of her mouth. "Yes, of course."
The warrior stepped away for a moment, walking seemingly without direction through the labyrinth chamber. Not too far away, she crouched and pulled from within a mound of snow what seemed to be an iron helm, encrusted with intricate golden details.
She wiped the snow from the helmet, thus gradually revealing the gray mask that adorned it. A mask terribly familiar to Tryg...
Where have I...? he wondered, but an instant later, his brows lifted with realization.
No... It can't be...
The woman approached him again, now with the helmet fastened against her waist. Tryg quickly but subtly placed himself between her and the sleeping fox, forcing himself to keep his hand away from the swords at his waist.
Once she was right in front of him, the warrior placed her free fist over her chest and bowed her head again, apparently oblivious to the changes in his behavior. Then, as majestic wings sprouted from her back, she introduced herself, making Tryg's heart skip a few beats:
“My name is Rist, the youngest sister of Hrist, Mist, and Gná. I’m the Valkyrie of Tremor. It is an honor to be in your presence, my lord.”