by J. M. Briggs
“So what’s the next step?” Lance frowned, his own eyes glancing between the mages with the same sort of confused and uneasy look that Jenny knew must be on her own face.
“Research, probably.” Aiden sighed, stabbing at his own salad. “Lots of research.”
“The problem is,” Nicki said. “I’m not sure if there are any myths or legends that relate to this at all.” She grumbled a bit at her own words. “This may be something completely new.”
Jenny was silent as the four mages all exchanged a worried look. Alex pushed her pasta around in the bowl and Jenny looked over at Lance, who looked just as unsure as she did. Clearing her throat, Jenny forced a little smile.
“I’m sure that Merlin and Morgana will have some place to start. So how about we pretend that you’re all regular college students for the rest of the night.” Straightening up, Jenny smiled and did her best to look cheerful. “What classes are you guys starting tomorrow?”
She caught a small smile on Alex’s face in the corner of her eye before Bran drew her attention with a nod of approval. Aiden’s eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at her before he promptly turned his attention to Nicki. Slowly the chatter turned from the fate of the world to more normal young-twenty topics. Sighing softly, Jenny took a sip of her iced tea and shared one more pleased look with Lance.
3
A Man Named Thor
115 C.E. Sør-Trøndelag, Norway
A cold wind was rising off of the fjord carrying the scent of salt and the promise of something that he couldn’t put his finger on. The carved mountains of gray rock rose around the narrow inlet and almost completely hid the sea. In front of him, a small freshwater stream bubbled down the slope towards the fjord where it would join the ocean. Rich green vegetation covered the rounded edges of the mountains: thick grasses, small spruce trees and blankets of moss made everything seem alive and fresh, and yet there was something keeping him from feeling at ease.
He lingered and watched the waves in the distance with a detached interest and tried to understand his sudden introspective mood. Behind him, the village was busy with the chores of day to day life; something that he should be getting back to. Turning around, he took in the village with sharp brown eyes and pushed a wild strand of hair out of his face. He took a moment to tuck the strand back into his braid before he started trudging back to the village with the full bucket of water in his left hand.
Numerous houses were arranged in a rough u-shape slightly up the hill on a bare well-trodden patch of land. Each one was long and rectangular, made of woven sticks covered with mud and reinforced here and there with small stones. Their steep roofs were covered with thick layers of moss and turf with a large hole visible in each where smoke was escaping. Beyond the collection of houses were several fields where he could see many of the men out laboring despite the advancing hours. Judging from the height of the grain it looked to be a decent year. Smiling slightly, he caught sight of his brother walking towards their own house with an exhausted slump to his shoulders. Further beyond the small fields were the thick spruce tree forests full of deer and wild pigs.
He shifted in his path and moved towards the same house as his brother, but instead of going inside he went to the smaller structure next to it. The building had only three walls with the fourth side open to the air, though some hides and woven mats hung from the roof to provide some extra protection. A sturdy stone-built furnace filled the far interior wall. Tools sat waiting for him on a small bench along with two half-finished axe heads awaiting some work. There was a stack of wood and an already full bucket of water on hand.
Setting down the second bucket of water, he quickly busied himself with putting away the set of hammers and small chisel tools out of reach of the elements. Wrapping himself in a thick animal skin, he checked once more that the furnace was cold before placing the wrapped tools in the corner. He glanced out to see his brother heading back towards the fields with a woven bag as he covered the axe heads. Turning to the pair of buckets, he dipped his hand briefly into the cool water and rubbed his hands together to clean off the thin layer of dirt that the day’s chores had created. Glancing around one more time, he nodded to himself and strode to the doorway of the adjacent house.
Long benches lined the sides of the house, providing enough room between them for a person to lie down with furs and woven blankets piled into bundles. The house carried a chill thanks to the animals being outside in the pasture for the day, but that wasn’t stopping his father from conducting his usual grooming. The man’s razor and comb were waiting beside the small bowl of water next to him as he perched on the edge of the bench. Thor pulled off his outer tunic and tossed it onto the bench.
“Thor,” the large man called as he caught sight of him. “You need to clean up,” his father scolded lightly. His brown eyes swept over Thor with a hint of distaste.
“Yes Father,” he grumbled. He knew it was true; his red hair was becoming more apparent as the last lye treatment to bleach his hair was growing out. “I’ll see to it soon.”
Walking over to his father, Thor quickly unbraided his hair and accepted the offered comb. He was combing out the long reddish strands of his hair and his small beard when his brother entered the house. A bit shorter than Thor, but equally well muscled and carrying a heavy woven sack. He all but tossed it down with a small groan by the grinding wheel and shifted over to join them.
“Father,” he greeted with a respectful nod. He glanced towards his brother. “Thor,” he said with much less warmth.
“Arvid,” Thor greeted. “How was the dirt today?”
His remark earned him a sharp look from his brother, dark brown eyes flashing with irritation. Thor could see streaks of dirt on his brother’s neck and there was some mud caked in his brother’s bleached hair.
“More productive than playing with my toys,” Arvid said with a smirk.
“Enough,” their father cut in. “You are finished for the day, Thor?”
“I am,” Thor answered with a nod.
“Then I suggest, Arvid, that you finish your tasks.”
His brother nodded to their father and gave Thor one more look. Holding back the urge to say something more, Thor inwardly grumbled to himself. Arvid couldn’t marry soon enough. Then at least there’d be someone else for him to bother in the long house. Of course, then he’d have a sister-in-law to deal with and soon after that nephews and nieces. Thor groaned softly: maybe looking forward to his brother’s upcoming marriage wasn’t such a good thing after all.
“You’re arrogant son,” his father said. There was judgment and perhaps a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Be respectful to your brother. You busy yourself with the forge but he grows the food for this family.”
“Father-”
“Erlendr taught you smithing because you showed talent,” his father reminded him sternly. “Not so that you could insult Arvid.”
“Yes, Father.” Thor held back a sigh of annoyance. “You’re right.”
His father gave him a look that clearly said Thor’s quick agreement didn’t mean much to him, and Thor inwardly sighed. He didn’t really mind Arvid so much, but his brother was just so aggravating. Thor shifted so his back was to his father and brought his right hand in front of him. Flexing his fingers, Thor breathed out slowly and pulled on the smoldering flame he could feel in his gut. Small sparks of a bright blue color, almost white, appeared around his fingers and he smiled to himself. The sparks shimmered and moved faster, shooting together to form a tiny orb in the center of his hand. It glowed a little brighter and Thor wished that he could allow it to light up the whole house. But it wasn’t time yet; this gift wasn’t something he could fully harness yet.
Thor watched as his father and Arvid stepped out of the roundhouse to start bringing in the animals. Shifting quickly, he climbed off of the bench and moved to the large stone-lined fire pit located directly under the hole in their roof. His father had already prepared the fire with thick sticks and small c
uts of logs stacked around smoldering tree bark. Holding out his hand, Thor focused on the small pulsing ball of magic and glared at one of the small dry pieces of wood.
The magic jolted out of his hand, arching through the air like a tiny bolt of lightning before striking the wood. It smoked and the spark of magic caused the wood to burst into low flickering flames that quickly began to spread. Smiling to himself, Thor flexed his fingers and considered summoning more of the power and showing his father exactly what he could do, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. There was no way to be sure what kind of reaction they’d have, and the more control he had of this power the better.
Thor busied himself with starting the evening meal. It was a simple thick stew that began to fill up the house with its smell quickly as his father returned. Tossing a blanket over his shoulders, Thor inwardly grumbled about the icy temperature that seemed to be setting in for the night. There was a flap of the animal skin in the doorway and Arvid came in with several of the goats trotting along behind him. Crinkling his nose at the smell, Thor adjusted the blanket around his shoulders.
“What’s wrong, Thor?” Arvid asked with a smirk. He was holding back his own shivers. “Can’t handle the cold?”
Giving his brother a dark sideways look, he was going to reply when their father gave him a warning glance. He stayed silent and almost smiled when their father turned his attention towards Arvid and gave his brother an equally disappointed look. At least it was nice to know that his father knew it wasn’t just him causing trouble. Thankfully they were young men who had just done a long and hard day of work, and their thoughts and remaining energy were quickly turned towards the meal. That and the indoor chores that still needed doing kept them busy for a time.
There was a strange rumble from outside of the house that disturbed the peace sometime later as the stew began to bubble softly in the iron cauldron. Frowning, Thor raised his head and listened as another rumble echoed down into the village. It wasn’t the familiar sound of a spring thunderstorm: it sounded more like a rockslide. Before his father could say anything Thor was on his feet and headed out the door.
Outside the sky was quickly darkening with the last rays of the sun vanishing into the sea. A moment later Arvid stepped out of the house with a blazing torch. His lips twitched and Thor nodded to his brother. Looking around, he noticed quickly that they weren’t the only ones investigating the noise. It was too dark to see the mountains, but Thor turned to look up towards the dark towering shapes. To his surprise, he could see flickers of light on the mountains above. Not fires or torches, but brighter and made of soft white light.
Around him, the other villages began to notice and point towards the mountain. The deep rumbling sound came down into the fjord valley once again and more lights appeared. Thor took a step towards the mountain even as an icy feeling washed over his body. All of the hairs on his neck shuddered and stood on end and he could feel all the hairs on his arms and legs beneath his clothes doing the same. His stomach rolled and his fingers twitched on some strange instinct.
Above their heads, storm clouds began to rumble and the world seemed impossibly darker. Breathing in sharply, Thor looked around the village and took in the other residents who were looking around in confusion. He turned his eyes up towards the sky and smelled the sudden rush of lightning in the air. This storm had not been here before: it had been a clear night not long ago. There was a strange scent on the breeze, rotten and thick that was unfamiliar and horribly out of place. In the distance, a strange gargled scream echoed down into the village from the hills.
“What is that?” one of the children asked. He moved closer to his mother as everyone looked around.
A rumbling sound came down off the hill followed by another strange scream, even louder than the last and so high pitched it sent every hair on the back of his neck on end. Above their head on the mountains, the lights were spreading out and sparkling over the ridges. He was so distracted by the visible points of light on the hillside that Thor almost missed the flash of light in the trees just beyond the village. Touching Arvid’s shoulder, he gestured into the forest. Then the lights all vanished; there wasn’t a single ray in the forest or on the mountain. Everything suddenly seemed much darker and another wave of nausea spread over Thor. The villagers all lingered close together with soft whispers filling the night air, but Thor kept searching the darkness where he’d seen the light go out.
Something was moving just beyond the torchlight and Thor took a tentative step forward. In the corner of his eye, he saw two more villagers do the same to extend the light. Then something stumbled into the glow of the torches and Thor froze. The creature was human shaped with pale, almost clear skin that shimmered in in the low light. Long white hair was bound up around horns growing out of its forehead that curved back over its head. Long pointed ears poked out of the remaining hair hanging loosely around its face. Golden decorations covered the horns and golden ornaments were worked into the hair, making the being appear majestic for a moment. But then it moved forward and he heard a collective gasp through the villagers.
Wild black eyes like empty sockets swept over them, and as the being moved closer to the light of the torches Thor could see strange dark lines visible on its lower face. A golden gloved hand reached menacingly towards them and it took another shaky step forward. Suddenly a horn blared beyond the light of the torches, ringing through the fjord and sending a shudder through Thor. Someone began to speak, only for the words to be lost in a shriek of fear.
It was like throwing water on a blazing fire only to have steam explode into your face. The world around him burst into a haze of confusion. Three more of the creatures poured out of the shadows; all of them had black veins stretching over their face and dark eyes. Their faces twisted with rage and pain like a rabid animal and Thor felt his heart jump in his chest. Screams echoed around the village as people began to run.
The creatures crashed into the village, one of them moving right past him with eyes locked on one of the young girls who was staring at them in horror. Violent anger raged through Thor and he grabbed a torch from Arvid. He brought the torch down hard against the creature’s neck, hearing a soft crack in both the neck and the wood. Twisting the torch around, he set fire to the creature’s hair and heard it release a high pitched scream.
Another turned towards Thor as the first shrieked and fell to the ground, clawing at its face as the smell of burning hair filled the air. He didn’t dare look at the injured one and took a tentative step back as empty eyes fixed on him. It opened its mouth and a long hissing sound came out as the creature moved its lips. For a moment it paused, a strange look of surprise on its face before it moved towards him.
“Die,” fell from its lips in a thin and strained voice. “Die!”
A hand with long fingers covered in a golden gauntlet reached for him and Thor stumbled back. Vaguely he heard Arvid shout something, but another one of the creatures came rushing out of the darkness with a high pitched shriek and lunged towards him. Thor twisted and started to run as his stomach dropped painfully. He needed a weapon: a real weapon, not the cracking torch in his hand. He lost sight of Arvid as the two creatures rushed after him. His feet shifted and he moved towards his own house even as his mind spun trying to think of a plan. Something hit him hard in the back and he fell forward. Rolling over, he slashed the burning torch through the air in front of him.
They pulled back and Thor scrambled to his feet. His body suddenly felt heavy and awkward, ill-suited to the quickness that he wanted from it. Holding the torch in front of him, Thor looked around at the village, but more of the creatures were running through it. There were several bodies collapsed on the ground and one of the creatures was dragging a small boy behind it through the dirt. Several villagers had armed themselves with swords and were fighting back, but he seemed to be alone next to his own house.
One of the creatures lunged at him, pulling Thor sharply back to the danger he was in. He
moved backward and nearly fell into his own forge through the animal skin coverings. Dropping the torch, Thor jumped away from the creature and reached blindly into his workspace. He could hear the thing right behind him. In the light of the torch, he fumbled for a weapon. His fingers tried to unwrap the animals skins holding the axe heads, but the creature clawed at his back. Thor heard his tunic rip and grabbed frantically for anything he could reach. His hand closed around the handle of one of his hammers.
There was a hiss of metal as a sword was drawn and Thor swung his hammer around his body with all of his strength. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and he felt the spark in his lower chest flutter to life. Blindly he pulled on it, calling it forth to do something. Thor felt and heard it collide with the creature’s head. There was a crunch, but the thing kept clawing at him and a strange snarl ripped out of its throat. Grimacing at the sound, Thor swung the hammer again and pulled on his power frantically. It bloomed in his chest far faster than ever before and flooded through his arms. The hammer flashed for a moment with a brilliant bright blue color just before striking the creature.
The golden sword hit the ground and to Thor’s shock began to decay right before his eyes into a pile of dirt. His eyes returned to the creature which was reeling back from him and collided with its fellow. Skins were torn from the structure as they both fell back amidst the pained screams of the first. In his hand, the hammer’s glow was beginning to fade and Thor felt his legs trembling more than he’d ever want to admit.