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The man turned his solemn gaze on the girl. "No, Alfdis. It will be an execution. First a trial, of course, but there's little doubt, now. Even with the Prince missing. It is the opening gamble of a long war, we fear, and so the families call their own to them."
"I'm not leaving her alone in a war," Eirik said firmly.
Silver eyes blinked slowly, and then the world was wiped away.
Eirik drew his axes before their new surroundings had solidified. He leapt deftly around the tall hulduman and balanced one blade against his collarbone. "Alfdis," he said tightly. "Where is she?"
The man stiffened, then released a low chuckle. "So you have your mother's ferocity, Eirik, as well as her sunny looks." He held up a hand. "Peace! I would not hurt you, boy."
"I'm holding the ax to your throat," Eirik reminded him.
"Spoken like a priest's son," the man murmured. "Alfdis is safely where we left her, on the beach. I will return to her immediately."
"I'm going with you."
"No," was the cool reply. "You are not. The hidden paths are no place for human blood, and I cannot guarantee your safety."
"I can take care of myself." Eirik would have released his death hold, but he feared the man would vanish as soon as he did. "If it's not safe for me, it's certainly not safe for Alfdis."
"The world is not safe for little Alfdis," the man countered calmly. "Humans and huldufolk alike will fear and envy her ability to pass between and draw on the strengths of two worlds." He sighed heavily in Eirik's embrace. "Two worlds, equally cruel."
"I can protect her." Eirik forced more certainty into the words than he truly felt. "Let her return with me."
The man shook his head slowly, tugging fine platinum hair from Eirik's hold. "The dangers of our world, she must learn to navigate from the huldufolk. I promise you, no harm will come to her tonight. It will be a long war, as I said, and the night's only death has already been decided."
Eirik withdrew his axes and stepped around to face the slender hulduman. "Before the trial."
"Even so. The families gather to watch a killing."
"I don't like it," he said bluntly. "You're right. Alfdis's knowledge of the paths already far outstrips my own. But I do not trust you."
An expression reminiscent of pain flickered across the older man's face. "A Christian priest's wisdom, my boy. I will not try and persuade you otherwise. I can only promise to do my best to deliver Alfdis back to you before the day is through, and that I will protect her life with my own."
The damn elf sounded sincere. Eirik held his gaze for a long moment, then asked, "Who are you?"
The man's smile was brittle, cold, and beautiful.
"I am called Halkell."
Then he was gone.
Eirik cursed and slammed his axes back into his belt. He looked around. The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten. With a dull shock, he realized he knew where he was. In the next second, he wondered what he would have done if he hadn't recognized his surroundings, and in the next, it occurred to him that he had no idea whether he had been dumped all the way back into his world, or if he still trod a hidden path. That the trek home would take well over an hour only made his mood viler.
Alfdis had better survive the day, because he was going to strangle her himself.
It was in this black temper that Eirik tripped over the boy. Literally. One instant he was slogging towards the distant, jagged rise of glacier striped mountain, the only life for miles in every direction, and in the next instant the ground moved. With a yell, Eirik jumped to the side to avoid stepping on the body. He landed in ankle deep mud, slipped, and just barely managed to throw his weight forward to avoid falling onto his back. He spun and stared.
Had he imagined the movement? The prone body was still as death, half hidden under the light dusting of recent snow. Eirik approached warily and prodded one shoulder with his boot. There was no response.
He crouched down beside the boy and reevaluated his age estimate upwards. The young man was slender, and unconsciousness lent his ethereal features a childlike innocence. His skin was almost of a color with the snow, whether by birth or by death, Eirik couldn't say. His head lolled as Eirik carefully brushed aside fine strands of long black hair to press two fingers under his chin, feeling for a pulse.
"Away, mansspawn!"
The voice was a hiss. Eirik whirled as he leapt to his feet, axes falling into his hands. His pent up anger from the night's misadventures made him crave a good fight, and the dead boy didn't seem like he'd make a satisfying opponent. Eirik transferred his rage to whomever had dared sneak up on him.
It was a little girl.
Eirik gaped, his axes sagging. No older than eight or nine, she stood brazenly before him with a hand on either hip, bringing to mind a
