It was not as good a draw off as I had hoped. Surtur’s push had to be interrupted. I studied the battle, then turned to the woman. “Where would you strike to ruin his day?”
She gave a couple of indications then smiled. “Do you want me to?”
And I would go…not stab Surtur in the back. “I cannot kill him. I now think the universe will not allow either of us to win.” I found myself slipping into slightly archaic language.
“It happens. But there are others who will take the chance.”
And others who would…well…I would live with my choices. As long as I got to live with them. “I don’t mind being the distraction.”
She grinned. “And I will be your distraction.”
She did not say how likely her survival chances were. I did not ask her name. It felt as if doing so would make this too personal.
Or maybe I just did not want to know the name of somebody else who was probably going to die.
Maybe I was still going to die. I felt more confident now, as if having this support said something.
The law, though, said it would go to the one who killed him. But then, I had never wanted the throne.
Which some might argue made me pretty well qualified. I was not one of them.
I turned to the dwarves. “Do you think, with help, you can get to the forges?”
Ebba nodded. “With local help, yes.”
“So, you go with no backup?” she teased.
“I still have two warriors with me.” And if either of them killed him? Well, we’d go on from there.
I knew Thruor would not, I knew she could not. Mike was an open question, though.
Could one born mortal be a king in one of the realms? I did not know, and I had nobody to ask. “And possibly a trickster,” I added.
Jorun laughed. “Wherever he went.”
I realized Loki was, indeed, missing. “He probably shapeshifted into something.”
I grinned at the dwarves.
They both gave me dwarven “okay” signals and faded off into the crowd, no doubt to find themselves a guide.
Their mission was important too, but sending them off now? Something in my gut told me I needed to.
I only hoped they both survived.