Valhalla Unleashed

One: Healing Wounds-2

“Thank you, Father.” I tried to think of a way out of our troubles but nothing I could conceive of seemed realistic. “Father.”

“Yes, my son; please, speak freely.” Father moved in front of the fire pit at the center of the Great Hall, slowly moving his hands closer to the flame to catch some warmth. A knock suddenly came at the door. “Yes, what is it?”

“Breakfast, my lord,” Tibor spoke from the other side of the door.

“Very well, come in and set it down.” The door slowly opened and Tibor entered first. Following behind him were two well-dressed slave girls with braided blonde hair. Keeping their heads down, they quickly placed two wooden blocks at our table with food. “Thank you Tibor, you may leave us.” Tibor bowed his head.

“Yes my lord.” Tibor waved to the girls to depart the room and they did so without hesitation. Tibor closed the door once more and we began picking at our breakfast of freshly made bread, dried herring, and apples from a nearby orchard.

“Apologies, son, for the interruption. Please continue and enjoy your meal.” I picked apart some food, stuffing small pieces into my mouth as I spoke.

“What if I were to appeal to some of our neighbors, lavish them with gifts or perhaps invite them to a great feast in our glorious hall. Would that not sway them? Perhaps even pull them away from the influence of Steinar?” It was rare for me to speak in such a way. Politics! Oh, how I detested the thought. My ramblings made me tired and I longed for the chance to drive the tip of a spear violently through Steinar's balls!

“You're thinking like a chieftain; regrettably, I've already tried all of it. While you and your brother have been working hard to rebuild our home I have sent goodwill as far as the Ice Lands. Word of your great adventures has spread throughout the kingdom and now the other Chieftains think we are either great liars or that I am old and have lost my wits.” Father scratched at his salt and pepper hair nervously. “This is exactly what Steinar wants, our allies thinking we are weak and incompetent. The Draugr may be the least of our worries. In any case, any fortunes of ours pale in comparison to that which the Jarl contains in his coffers. Competing with him will take cunning.”

“So if our lord turns against us and our neighbors shun us, what are we to do, Father?” Looking out a small opening in the wall of the Great Hall, Father gazed upon the majestic mountainside of De syv fjell or the Seven Mountains.

“The great snows are coming, yes. Soon the mountain passes will be closed and the ocean channels frozen. We must hold out for the long freeze and prepare for the battles to come. No raids shall be had by us in the coming spring.” Father stood and removed a dagger from his belt. “This time we shall spill the blood of our brothers,” he said as he violently stabbed the blade into a wooden table. The blade glistened in the darkness of the hall reflecting the light from the roaring fire as it swayed back and forth on its point. Placing one foot atop a stool, father raised a wooden mug from the table taking a hearty drink of the day old mead and then slamming it back down.

“A little early for drinking, don't you think, Father?” He emptied the mug and placed it loudly on the table. Father returned a dirty look bearing some of his teeth.

“What are you, my mother? Get me another drink if you're going to lecture me. By the gods…” I smiled and quickly grabbed his cup. “Pour one for yourself as well. There's something else I wanted to speak with you about.” My heart felt heavy at the thought of even more poor tidings.

“What is it this time?” I asked reluctantly.

“Come, sit with me and finish your breakfast before it gets cold.” I sat hurriedly placing our mugs in front of us and shoving more food into my mouth.

“Tell me again, my son, what was it like?” I knew exactly what he was referring to. I cleared my throat and took a drink of my mead before speaking.

“Valhalla?” I asked. Father nodded and I continued. “From what I saw it was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my eyes upon, next to Sada that is.” Father chuckled taking another swig of his drink.

“Beautiful, is that all you have to say of our afterlife?” I looked up at Rurik, and saw his attention fully fixated upon me. I crossed my arms and rested my elbows on the table.

“The ice does not sting, the mead flows endlessly from great fountains, song is heard everywhere, but…”

“But what, my son?” I looked about the Great Hall hesitantly trying to find the right words to convey to Father.

“Valhalla, there is much we do not know, Father. A war is brewing amongst our gods. We must tread lightly.” Father looked at me sharply.

“Now is not the time for hesitation. Surely, we have allies amongst the gods that can come to our aid. Can you not call forth Odin? He assisted us once; he can surely do it again.” I shook my head several times, swallowing another piece of herring.

“It's not that simple, Father.”

Rurik slammed his fist on the table. “Well why the hell not?” A chilling breeze suddenly came over me.

“Where is your humility, chieftain!” The Seer quickly entered the hall appearing out of from the darkest corner of the Great Hall.

“Seer, how did you get in here? I told the guard no visitors!” demanded Rurik.

“How I entered is not important. It is the why you should concern yourself with.”

“Enough with your riddles, old man; get to the point or get the f**k out!” Rurik pointed to the door with drink in hand.

“Your impertinence is staggering. Even in the face of insurmountable odds you would rather hide out in your winter cave and drink yourself senseless. Did you not see with your own eyes the immortal beings and undead creatures that came forth for your own sons?” Rurik placed his cup upon the table and tucked his thumbs under his aged belt buckle.

“I did and I still don't believe what my eyes have seen.”

“If you doubt your eyes, then you doubt our gods, and if you doubt our gods you are no man of Odin.”

“Old man, get to your point. I will not have you enter my Hall and show disrespect.” Father gripped his mug tightly and I turned my eyes to the Seer awaiting his wise response.

“Very well. The Ragnarok approaches. The signs are becoming clear as day,” said the Seer as he pointed towards the sky.

“What signs?” Rurik asked.

“The ones your son knows all too well.”

“Son? What is he talking about?”

“The Elders, Father. The Elders said there would be signs of the final battle to come,” I said.

“As we speak, Surt is planning his escape from his rocky tomb.” The Seer sat down using his driftwood staff to brace his weary bones.

“Surt? You must be joking, old man. Surt is an ancient god, a myth; even if he exists he holds no weight over the All Father.” The Seer became enraged slamming his staff to the ground.

“This is no joke, chieftain! Do you not feel the presence of death everywhere? Can you not smell the rotting corpses in the wind? The Draugr and Valkyries descend upon us and yet you narrow your focus. You are blinded by your own ego and arrogance.” Father sat back in his chair now opening his hands in submission.

“Seer, my father is troubled by politics and means no disrespect. Please, stay with us and grace us with your counsel.” The Seer grinned and gladly remained sitting.

“Your son seems to have more sense about him than you. Take note, good chieftain, he may even be king one day.” The Seer looked about the table and lifted his gaze to Rurik. “Were you not about to offer me a drink?” Rurik stood reluctantly as he walked away to fill a wooden mug for the Seer. “It is time to gather you allies, Rurik. Time is not on your side. You may be safe while the snows fall but once the ice has receded your enemies will come at you by land, by sea, and from the heavens.” Father placed the mug in front of the Seer and sat down.

Taking a deep breath he replied, “What shall we do?”

“Tribute and treasure will not spare you from the sword this time. It's time for a lesson in humility.” The Seer quietly laughed under his breath knowing full well Rurik would struggle with this.

“Humility? And who am I to be humble towards?” demanded Father.

“It's time to call upon your father-in-law.” Rurik stood there speechless for a moment simply glaring at the Seer. I waited tensely for a response that never seemed to come until Father burst out laughing.

“I've never known you to have a sense of humor, Seer. Perhaps the drink has already gotten to your mind.” The Seer, however, did not appear to be amused.

“Call upon your wife, send her to retrieve her father and his army. They can open new supply lines and help fortify Bjorgvin.” Rurik was furious, his brow was heavy and turned a bright red. Running his thumb up and down the handle of his axe, it seemed he would wear it down to splinters at a moment's notice.

“Kenna will do no such thing. I forbid it!” he yelled.

“Is this you talking or your vanity, chieftain?” asked the Seer. Rurik paced the room back and forth; his rough hands balled up in a fist.

“I will not open my doors to that arrogant, insolent, bag of wind! He is not welcome in my halls.”

“And why not?” A soft voice asked. We turned our necks to find Kenna standing in the doorway of her chamber.

“My love. I thought you were foraging in the wood with the other women?” asked Rurik. Kenna wore a simple red dress of wool with a grey overcoat. She slowly removed her hood, revealing her stern gaze.

“I was but then my ears began to burn. I thought perhaps the gods needed me to return home. It seems I was right.”

“These matters do not concern you. I'd ask that you return to your duties,” Rurik commanded.

“What matters could concern me more than the welfare of our family, of our people?” Kenna strode gently up to Rurik, placing her hand on his bearded cheeks. Her hands were freezing from the outdoors. Rurik grasped both her hands placing them in his to provide warmth.

“The Seer was providing us his counsel,” said Rurik. Kenna raised her eyebrows, turning to the old man in curiosity.

“Oh, and what do you have to tell us. Have the gods sent a sign.” The Seer lowered his head out of respect for Kenna.

“The gods send many signs, my lady. I merely interpret their meaning and humbly attempt to convey their will. The bones have spoken to me and they speak of your father, Jerrik.” The room became silent; Kenna's eyes opened wide as she turned her head to one side and smiled.

“My father and I have not spoken for a very long time. Why would I waste breath on him now?” Kenna crossed her arms waiting for the Seer to respond.

“My dear, I don't presume to fully understand the meaning but I would assume it has something to do with our current predicament.” Kenna looked back and forth between Rurik and the Seer.

“What predicament? Rurik? What is he talking about? What are you keeping from me?” Rurik stood upright wiping the mead from his bearded chin.