Giants of the Frost by Kim Wilkins Read Free Book Online Page A

catching worms in the undergrowth. But now the light, almost-inaudible footsteps had become rhythmic, too much like the gait of a hunter. He paused, listened.
    Whatever it was, it didn't want him to know it was there. Vidar shivered. The sun was obscured by the branches above him and the afternoon was deepening toward evening. These woods, like all the woods in Asgard, were home to half-magical wights and spirits. Most would do him no harm, but he had crossed a brook, and wherever there was water, there was danger of a draugr. Perhaps one had journeyed downstream from the northern parts, those treacherous icy waters where many had drowned. Or perhaps it was a wolf. Unusual in the mild south of Asgard on the well-used paths of travel and trade, but a lone hunting animal might have skulked its way out of the wild deeps in search of food. Vidar turned and waited, balancing his weight on his feet, utterly silent. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and, without a sound, positioned it on his hunting bow. He strained to hear. The footfalls had quieted. His ears rang softly. The rustle and thud again, hushed but close. He blew a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. The muscles in his arms tensed as he drew the string, poised to shoot the instant his pursuer moved from cover.
    A figure stole from the trees, Vidar's fingers uncurled, realizing almost too late that it was friend, not foe. He tilted the bow down.
    "Aud!"
    The arrow hissed through the air, grazing her thigh.
    She called out and fell to her knees, her hand pressed into her skin.
    Vidar dropped his bow and hurried to her. Her dark hair was loose and hung over her shoulders, shoes shoved into the pockets of the apron she wore, and her skirts were hoisted to her thighs and tied at her hips, revealing her long pale legs.
    "It's nothing," she said, setting her teeth. Blood oozed between her fingers.
    "You're bleeding," he replied. He reached for his hunting knife and cut off a length of material from the bottom of his tunic.
    She seemed to grow embarrassed about her bare legs, pushing her skirts down. "They make such a noise trailing in the bushes," she muttered.
    "Let me see." He forced her fingers aside to inspect the wound. It was only a graze, but he felt sick at the thought that he might have injured her worse, or killed her.
    "What are you doing out here?" he asked, expert fingers binding the wound tightly. He already knew the answer; since the day she had discovered him in the seeing-water, she had been increasingly curious about where he went and what he did.
    Aud wouldn't meet his gaze. "Searching for wild rosemary. For lamb stew."
    "Stay closer to home next time," he said, testing the knot and standing up. "Are you well? Do you feel faint?"
    "I'm perfectly well." She quickly arranged her skirts. "I'm sorry, Vidar." He went to slide his hunting knife back into his belt, dislodging the pouch he wore around his hips. The contents spilled to the ground: a drinking flask, a whetstone for his knife, and a half-burned Midgard book.
    Aud's fingers closed around the book before he could snatch it up. "What's this?"
    "Nothing," he said, taking it from her gently but firmly. "An old piece of rubbish from my father's hall."
    "It's a book, isn't it?"
    "From Midgard," he admitted. A book written in English, Halla's language. He had heard a few words, muffled by the water in Sjáfjord. Years ago he had known the language well; learning the many tongues of Midgard had filled his waiting centuries. But he needed to be fluent. All he had was this one book, saved from the fire at his last visit to Valaskjálf.
    "Loki has dozens of those," she said, pulling herself to her feet and testing her weight on her injured leg.
    "See? It doesn't hurt at all."
    "When did you see Loki's books?"
    "Last time we were there together. When we went to find that saddle he stole. He has a whole shelf of them, not all burned like that one. I could go to fetch some for you." Vidar rubbed his chin in thought,