Hero's Curse (30 page)

I sat on the steps in front of Our Lady of Good Counsel in my civilian clothing—my new bang sticks, stun guns, and garotte strapped on my forearms underneath my long sleeved shirt and enjoyed the sunset.

Chapter 22: The Deal

I could hear the Jotunn before I could see them. The rumble of their motorcycles as they came toward the Church was impossible to miss. I was still getting used to my super hearing; I couldn’t tell how far away they were. I guessed they were at least a few minutes away. I now knew one more thing about the Jotunn. The only advantage motorcycles had over a bus, or a couple large vans, was how cool they looked. I’ve never dealt with barbarians before but I had experience with outlaw biker gangs. If barbarians were anything like outlaws, the odds of my plan working had just gone up a notch.

There’s a difference between a professional killer and an outlaw. A professional killer just wants to get the job done quickly and cleanly. He likes being anonymous. The job is more important than his vanity. An outlaw needs to be admired. If he does something bad, he wants everyone to admire his badness. His entire life revolves around his reputation.

An outlaw motorcycle gang is made up of guys who want to be legends. This makes them predictable. They usually take the path that makes them look like badasses. Winning isn’t enough; they want to be feared and respected. Become an honored enemy, someone who they can brag about killing and they’ll go out of their way to gain your respect—treat you like family until they try to kill you.

Outlaws appreciate an enemy with panache. I reached into my front shirt pocket for the aluminum tube I had put away earlier. It held a single Romeo Y Julietta, a seven-inch, fifty-ring gauge cigar. Unless you know what you’re doing, biting the end of a cigar will tear the wrapper and ruin the cigar. I bit off the end and lit it up.

The warband arrived in a swarm on custom made choppers. They pulled their bikes in a half circle on the street in front of Our Lady of Good Counsel. They were in their human shapes and wore the leathers expected of an outlaw biker gang.

I saw nineteen problems that needed fixing. They saw a slender guy, inches shorter than their smallest, in jeans and a dark, long-sleeve, button-down shirt, sitting on the front steps of the church enjoying a good smoke.

Their leader in the center spoke, “Paladin, I thought you would be larger.” I realized then she was female, the only one of the bunch. She was actually attractive in a gargantuan sort of way. When she got off her bike and kicked it, the rest followed.

I remained sitting. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Blód ok daudi!
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” One of the Jotunn screamed and ran toward me while he shapeshifted. Within a few steps, he morphed from a reasonably large red headed guy in leathers to a seven foot behemoth bearing a two-handed war hammer.

I waited until the troll was just at the foot of the stairs. He had his war hammer high, on the verge of delivering a killing stroke, when I silently mouthed, “Pyro.” My original bang stick barrel had been flush with the shotgun shell. Aidan’s stick had a four inch barrel, turning my weapon into a sawed-off shotgun. Because of the troll’s height and my position on the stairs, our heads were level. With my left arm fully extended, my sawed off shotgun was just a few feet from his head when it fired.

There was a ‘BANG’ and a fireball appeared between us. The Jotunn collapsed face down on the stairs. Blood pooled below his head. There was complete silence.

In a fight, our instincts are more powerful than our conscious minds. We focus on movement and noise. We ignore the quiet and unmoving. The Jotunn had been watching their friend scream and charge. I had been a still figure in the corner of their field of vision, quietly sitting on the stairs. When they saw the flash and heard the bang, even though their conscious minds knew it came from me, their instincts said it came from him. If I had roared a battle cry, or moved at all, they would have seen a threat and swarmed on me as soon their friend fell. I sat completely still. I waited for them to come to grips with what just happened.

When their eyes moved from their dead companion back to me, I put the cigar back in my mouth, drew in a nice slow puff, and then made a ‘sorry, what could I do?’ gesture with both my hands. The Jotunn just to the right of the leader started laughing first. Then, the leader began to laugh. Soon, the entire warband roared with laughter.

The stench of rotting meat rose from his body. It seemed all the Jotunn stank. I could see why they preferred to stay in their human shapes. I slowly, carefully put out my cigar and walked down the stairs past the dead troll.

I stood in front of the leader. “I have a proposition for you.”

She stopped laughing. Her quick glance to either side quieted the rest. “My name is Signe Ericsdottir. How are you named?”

“Victor Paladin.”

“You slew Gerrid. It wasn’t a question and it didn’t sound like she was talking about the stiff behind me.

“If you’re talking about the Jotunn in Salt Lake City a few days ago, yeah.”

“What did you do with his body?” She asked with idle curiosity.

“Most of it is buried under a rock. His head got exposed to the sun. I don’t know your customs. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

The Jotunn who had started laughing first then spoke up, “Did you slay Gerrid unaided, or did you perhaps have companions to assist you?”

“It was just me.”

He grunted in response and then said appraisingly, “You have gained power since then.”

I gave a short laugh. “Yeah, back then, I didn’t even know I was a paladin.”

My reply caused them to talk amongst themselves in their native language. It would have been nice to know what they were talking about.

Signe turned back to me. “Where is your treasure, Paladin? Have you come for a good death?”

I threw my head back and laughed. “If you kill me now, you’ll never get my treasure. I’m here to offer you a deal, and Jehovah’s gifts are part of it.” I waited for her to respond.

After a moment, she motioned me to continue.

“One-on-one, I can take you all. If you attack me as a group, I’m dead.” I grinned widely, “And where’s the glory in that? Here’s my offer. Agree to fight me one-on-one, and if you kill me, you will leave my people alone forever. I will agree that if I’m mortally wounded, I won’t send my treasure away. The one that kills me gets my gifts.” I could feel the pizza start to come back up again. It took everything I had not to upchuck.

My offer created an uproar. All Jotunn began talking at once. “Hold, úlfar
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!” Signe stared down the others until they stopped talking. “Paladins must protect their gifts with their lives. How is it possible for you to uphold your agreement?”

I ignored my nausea and gave a careless shrug. “The same way I left Salt Lake City. I’ll put myself to sleep.”

“Those are your terms?” Her narrowed blue eyes reminded me of Mina’s. “Safety for your people if we agree to meet you in single combat?”

“That, and if for any reason, you withdraw before I am dead, you leave me and mine alone for four weeks. You will all stay outside Salt Lake City for four weeks.”

“Huh.” She grunted, “You believe others will come to your aid?”

Despite how nauseous I felt, I forced a small, rueful smile. “That’s the plan.”

She snickered. “Your words appear truthful, but will you take us at our word alone? Though you are small, you do not seem a trusting child. How shall we, as enemies, bind one another?”

“I say we all agree to an oath; if anyone reneges, they will be cursed.”

Sign looked curious. “A pledge to Jehovah would mean nothing to us; your oath to Odin would be less than meaningless. What oath would bind us all?”

I turned to the Jotunn with the sense of humor and offered him my hand. He eyed me for a few seconds and then took my hand. “I will fight you one-by-one, until you kill me, I kill all of you, or you all withdraw before I am dead. You will fight me one-by-one, without help from anyone, until you kill me, or you all withdraw before I am dead. If you withdraw, you stay at least one hundred miles away from Salt Lake City and leave my people alone for four weeks. If you kill me, you will stay at least one hundred miles away from Salt Lake City forever. If you mortally wound me, I will put myself to sleep so that you may claim my gifts. If anyone breaks this pledge, their manhood will wither, die, and fall off.” This time around, I didn’t feel as nauseous. Not mentioning my treasure may have helped.

At the word ‘manhood’ the troll began laughing so hard he almost fell down. He affectionately struck me on my shoulder with his free paw. Even in human form, he was big enough that I had to lean into his love pat to avoid being thrown off my feet. “By The Hallowed Halls of Valhalla, Adam’s son, I like you. You lighten my heart. I am named Asvald Arnison. Once I kill you, I shall eat your heart and tongue. I accept your pledge.”

My spell bar came up. It showed if I made this oath, I’d use up ten percent of my soul. FUCK! I broke out into a cold sweat. There were seventeen of them left. I looked up into Asvald’s eyes. I had no other choice. I had to make this oath. I let the spell go through. A sense of tingling coolness started at our hands and then spread through my body. Then all of the coolness focused on my groin until it became cold and numb. After a few seconds, my feeling in my nuts came back. It was a promise of what was to come if any of us reneged.

Asvald let go of my hand and stepped aside for the Jotunn next in line to take my hand. “I am named Egil son of Frodi the Strong. I will sing of your death in years to come. I shall eat your heart. I agree to your pledge.” When my spell bar came it showed only a miniscule part of my soul was necessary to bind Egil to his oath. Thank God. It was better to be lucky than good.

When I said, “I agree” to Egil. I didn’t feel nauseated. I just felt a flash of coolness in my groin.

All of the Jotunn shook my hand. Almost all of them promised to eat some part of me. I got they were complimenting me. When they said they wanted to eat my heart, I could tell they thought I was brave. I assumed if they wanted to eat my tongue, they thought I was funny. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why one of them wanted to eat my liver. Maybe he just liked liver?

Signe Ericsdottir was the last to shake my hand. I was reminded of Junior High—the last time I’d been eye level to breasts. “I have no manhood to lose.”

I raised an eyebrow, “When you have sons, they will be born without male parts and will live as women.” Signe flushed and broke a hard grin, as her warband yelled and screamed around us.

When she reached out and cupped my balls, I didn’t react. She was expecting me to flinch—I refused. She squeezed me to the point of discomfort. My smile was a promise. She guffawed. “I will drink mead from your skull. I regret I do not have time to take your seed. You would make strong sons.” The rest of the Jotunn thought she was so funny a couple of them actually fell over, pummeling the ground with their feet and fists while they roared in wild laughter.

Binding Signe to her oath took three percent of my soul.

Tim was right. Jehovah had a sense of humor. Join God’s Army. Go to new places, meet new people, have them sexually harass you and promise to eat your vital organs, and then kill them.

Chapter 23: Single Combat

Signe gave me a feral grin. “One moment Victor Paladin, while we cast lots. The Jotunn huddled in a circle and threw dice. Every time the dice were rolled there were groans and cheers. All eighteen took a turn to roll. Some rolled more than once. It looked like they were figuring out the fighting order.

I wondered how many I could take out if I called Sanguinis and emptied a thirty-two round drum into the huddle. I’d have to nail each one in the head and the Jotunn would probably scatter instantly. The ones in front would shield the trolls behind them. I figured about four or five.

The Jotunn stood and faced me. Signe looked pissed, and was cursing under her breath. Asvald looked pleased.

He walked up. “Fortune favors me. I have won the right to be first against you. Come, the holmgang is prepared.”

One of the others took a can of spray paint and made a circle about fifteen feet in diameter on the street. Shit. If we fought in the circle, I wouldn’t have much room to dodge or use my speed.

Signe spoke, “Two shall enter the holmgang; only one will leave. Any who steps out of the circle before the duel is complete shall die. There is no quarter, only victory or death.

As Asvald changed into his Jotunn form, I studied the faces of the other trolls. They looked like like Santa Claus had put coal in their stockings. Only one of them could take my gifts. It looked like they thought he would get all the goodies.

When Asvald entered the holmgang, he was eight feet tall. He held a five foot longsword in one hand and a shield that went from his knee to his upper chest in the other. A chainmail shirt hung down to his thighs and was cinched at his waist by a leather belt. He wore leather gauntlets studded with metal and metal shin guards over leather boots. He wore an open faced conical helmet that had openings for his bat-like ears. I was surprised that the helmet didn’t have horns.