Familiar Faces
“Victory is reserved for those who are willing to pay its price.”
- Sun Tzu
I idly considered taking a vehicle out to the bridge for the meeting, but thought better of it. If we were walking into a trap, we would just have to fight our way clear. Besides, it would be a lot easier to defend the smaller vault door that led into the complex than it would to try to defend the massive vehicle gate. If they attacked in large numbers, then forcing them to come through the smaller door would create a choke point and give us the advantage.
If we were walking into a trap, then I wanted to be prepared. With all of us going out there, I figured that would be enough of a show of force to make them think twice about fighting. If they decided to fight us anyway, then I doubted that we would have too much trouble fighting our way back if things went badly. If we did have to fight, then we would give them one for the record books. After all, with Snake, Butcher, Bergelmir, Bridgett, Marco, Spec-4 and myself geared up and ready to fight, there wasn’t much we weren’t ready for.
By the time we exited the south gate, the sun was well past mid-day. I was glad that we had at least six more hours before full dark because I didn’t want to be out there when the sun went down. Not only would the temperature drop rapidly, we would also have to contend with the Vargr. I knew that from the amount of howls we had heard during our last encounter, there would be more than enough of them to swarm us and rip us to shreds.
Crossing over the small wooden bridge that marked the outer edge of the cleared area, we headed up the hill towards the old highway and the bridge that spanned the Niangua River. All around us the wind whispered eerily through the barren trees, reminding us of just how alone and cut-off from the others we were out here. The thought began forming in my head that this was the perfect place for an ambush. I just hoped that thought hadn’t occurred to the Hrimthurssar, as well.
We fanned out as we approached the top of the hill, I could see where the highway had been. Although it was now covered with more than three feet of snow, it was apparent by the lack of trees just where it was. If we stayed out of the trees, we shouldn’t have too much trouble finding our way back to the gate. If we got off of the path, we might not find our way back until well after dark, if at all.
By unspoken consensus, Marko and Bridgett took the left side of the road while Butcher and Snake took the right side. Bergelmir stood to my left while Spec-4 stayed on my right. Although none of us had our weapons drawn, we kept them within easy reach. Only the massive spear that I carried was openly displayed. I used the haft of it to test the depth of the snow ahead of me, in an attempt to avoid any surprises.
Months ago, the road had been cleared of abandoned cars by our work crews. We had used the ones that were worth keeping for transportation and the ones that were not became part of the wall that we had constructed around the compound. Junk cars, rocks and other debris had been great filler for the massive pit and earthen walls that we had erected to defend our new home.
Once we stepped out onto the bridge, I could see that to the west of us more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow tonight. The wind was beginning to pick up and could be heard whistling through the trees and the bridge railing. Across the river, the ruins of the old Sand Springs Resort could still be seen despite the deep covering of snow. We had long since stripped the buildings of anything useful, but the shells might still be providing shelter for the Hrimthurssar. Other than the deep, thick Ozarks woods, there was nothing else around that could conceal them from our gaze.
Nodding once at Bergelmir, he removed the massive signal horn from beneath his heavy cloak and brought it to his lips. I had heard the horn many times before when Bergelmir had been tracking me, but that was back when he was trying to kill me. This would be the first time I had heard it up close. I nearly jumped out of my skin, shocked at just how loud it was when it was right beside me.
The deep, resounding roar of the horn pierced the quiet of the countryside with its lonely cry. The notes echoed back from the surrounding woods and faded off into the distance before an answering horn gave its stark reply. I was surprised that it hadn’t come from the direction of the old resort. It echoed from the far side of the river, downstream and to the south. I knew that was the direction of Lake of the Ozarks, but could tell that the horn was much closer than the lake.
If they were on foot, then we would have to wait for them for quite some time. The answering horn couldn’t have been closer than a mile, possibly more. I knew that the Hrimthurssar were not affected by the cold, but they still had to slog their way through the deep snow just like we did. It would still take them some time to get here.
Within moments, another sound came drifting to us on the wind. It was the yipping and barking of large canines. It was unmistakably the call of numerous Vargr as they made their way towards us. Briefly, I considered calling for everyone to fall back, but Bergelmir must have seen the look in my eyes. He spoke before I could voice my concerns.
“Do not be alarmed,” he cautioned. “The Vargr serve the Hrimthurssar. They will not attack unless they are ordered to.”
“That’s reassuring,” I muttered, sarcastically. “As if meeting a group of the Hrimthurssar wasn’t bad enough.”
A few minutes later, the sounds of the Vargr were close enough that it could be clearly heard above the wind. Soon, several of the massive beasts emerged from the trees with Hrimthurssar riding them like warhorses. I was more than a little taken aback by the sight, but Bergelmir seemed unfazed. I guess I could have asked him to elaborate when he said that the Vargr served the Hrimthurssar.
There were a dozen of them, all wearing armor and carrying both melee weapons and firearms. It was obviously steel armor, but it had been designed more like tactical body armor than medieval style battle armor. It was an odd combination, but looked like it would provide good protection while not hindering movement. Oddly enough, I suddenly wanted a set. Since we were now reduced to using mostly melee weapons because of the cold, it would make more sense to wear that instead of my interceptor vest.
They stopped at the far end of the bridge and held their position. Three of them separated from the group and began to move out onto the bridge. The one in the middle was slightly ahead of the other two, indicating that he was the leader. They didn’t get off of their mounts and moved slowly so that we knew that they weren’t coming to attack us. I still felt like it was a thinly veiled threat, since they didn’t bother to get down and come out on foot.
Shrugging, I headed out onto the bridge with Bergelmir and Spec-4 staying right beside me. The others took up defensive positions on either side of the bridge and waited for my signal. They wouldn’t come out unless I called them or the Hrimthurssar made the first move. The old bridge would force them to fight us head on instead of trying to flank us. However, the advantage of riding the Vargr would make escape back to the compound almost impossible. We would either reach an agreement or the fight would begin and end right here.
We met in the middle of the bridge and stopped less than twenty feet away from each other. The massive size of the Vargr forced us to look up at them, but I was intent on not letting them believe they had the advantage. I kept my spear angled slightly forward, ready to skewer the first one who came too close.
These Vargr were larger than the ones we had fought. They were not only taller, but more broadly muscled. That either meant that these were a different type than the others had been, or the ones we had fought had been younger members of the pack that weren’t quite full grown. As much trouble as we had fighting them, I had little doubt that these would be much more difficult to kill.
All three of the riders wore heavy cloaks made of some kind of leather that had been dyed in light blues and whites, like some sort of arctic camouflage. Their faces were obscured by the hoods and by heavy face wraps that covered everything but their eyes. Up close, I could see that the armor was more intricate that I had first be
lieved.
There was an under-layer of finely woven chain mail, as fine as cloth. It was baked black and had the tactical plates attached to it, covering vital areas and allowing freedom of movement in the joints. The plates were painted the same arctic camouflage color and looked like they were modular. Each of the three of them had slightly different variations of their armor, matching their chosen weapons.
The leader was a massive specimen and carried a gigantic two-handed sword. It was what the Germans referred to as a zwie-hander. His armor was set up to allow him good protection while remaining free to swing that monstrous sword. The rider on his left was almost as big as the leader and carried a huge double-bladed battle axe. His armor was similarly set-up, allowing free movement of the shoulders to swing the axe with tremendous force.
The remaining rider was significantly smaller than the other two. I suspected that this one was female, but had no way to be sure. Their armor was different than the others. Although they had a sword on their hip, the forearm guards of the armor were clearly designed with a different purpose in mind. This one was an archer. The confirmation was the double-sized quiver of arrows that hung from the saddle, in easy reach of the rider.
Stepping forward slightly, I glanced at all three of them before allowing my gaze to settle on the leader. I could see the light glinting on his eyes from beneath his hood, so I knew that he was studying me as closely as I was studying him. I had every intention of making him break the silence first. I knew that whoever did was going to show deference to the other, even if only slightly. It was a point of pride for me to make sure he broke first.
After a long, tension-filled moment passed, I could see his shoulders settle slightly and could hear the audible sigh from beneath the hood. He was going to break the silence first. That meant he really did intend to talk to us instead of this being an elaborate trap. That, at least, was a good sign.
“Are you Grant?” asked the deep voice from beneath the hood.
“I am,” I replied, not moving the spear.
“Then we have much to discuss,” he said, somewhat softer.
“You know my name,” I said, shifting my weight, “but I don’t know yours.”
“I am Thrym,” he said, saying the name as if I should already know it.
Although he didn’t get the reaction that he expected from me, I could see Bergelmir straighten up and take a step back. Spec-4 turned towards him, clearly surprised by the reaction of the big warrior. Whoever this Thrym was, it was clear that Bergelmir knew him and wasn’t expecting to see him here.
I glanced back at Bergelmir and saw a strange look on his face. It wasn’t fear or anger that marred his features. It was shock that registered there. Whatever the reason, I doubted that it was going to be something that we would be happy to hear. Undoubtedly, this Thrym was famous among the Hrimthurssar. Whether or not that boded well for us remained to be seen.
Bergelmir saw my look and leaned closer to me before speaking; keeping his voice low enough that only I could hear him.
“He is the leader of all the Hrimthurssar,” explained Bergelmir. “The most powerful warrior among us.”
“Is that bad?” I asked, dreading the answer.
“I do not know,” replied Bergelmir. “It only means that they consider you enough of a threat to send their greatest warrior to speak to you.”
I couldn’t decide if I should be frightened or flattered. I decided to go with flattered and turned back to speak to him. When I looked up at him, the gigantic Vargr was staring down at me like it was searching for its next meal. Since I had no intention of being said meal, I merely placed the tip of the spear in line between myself and the beast's mouth. This caused the monster to issue a low growl, narrowing its eyes and laying back its ears.
“Calm your pet before I show it what I did to the last one that tried to bite me,” I said in a low, dangerous tone.
Thrym stared at me with a measured look of amusement, but seemed to consider my words. When I made no move to flinch away or back down, he merely patted the beast on the side of the neck and muttered some soft words in a language that I couldn't understand. After a moment, the creature seemed to visibly relax and stopped growling. Although it made no attempt to come towards me, I had the distinct feeling that it really wanted to try. I only hoped that if it did, that I was up to the bold words that I had spoken. I wasn't exactly looking forward to fighting this monster.
“Better?” asked Thrym, his tone almost mocking.
“Depends on your definition of better,” I replied. “I'm not impressed and I'm not intimidated. If it comes at me, I'll kill it.”
“You are everything your reputation says you are,” stated Thrym, eying me speculatively.
I didn't respond, not knowing exactly what he had heard about me. After all, I hadn't left many witnesses to tell the tale. That could only mean someone had escaped the destruction of the base at Fort Leonard Wood. Suddenly, I desperately hoped that it wasn't Grimnir. I wouldn't be upset to learn that Vigdis had survived, but Grimnir was an asshole and I hoped he was burning in whatever Hel he believed in.
“Did you bring us here to make idle chat or is there something important you wish to discuss,” stated Bergelmir, breaking the tense silence.
With a dark glare at Bergelmir, Thrym exhaled slowly and turned back to me. I noticed that he was not addressing Bergelmir directly. No doubt they were still angry that he had joined us instead of helping them kill me. Frankly, I hoped it wasn't the last time they were disappointed in something that happened. Not by a long shot.
“Indeed,” muttered Thrym, after a long pause. “We do have much to discuss.”
As he swung down off of the back of the Vargr, I could see that the riding saddle was nothing more than a leather chest harness that fit around the massive beast and had stirrups attached to it. There was no seat or padding of any kind. It was clear that these “saddles” had not been built for comfort.
As Thrym came around past the head of his Vargr, I could see that he was much larger than even Grimnir had been. He had to be well over eight feet tall and massively muscled. The armor that he wore only added to his sheer size, making him seem like the giants of the old tales. Despite his size, I was intent on showing him I was not going to be easily intimidated. Neither by him or by any of the others.
Before he could say anything, I reached into my belt and retrieved the black dagger that they had left for me; the one that had been inscribed with my name. I could see him tense up and start to reach for the hilt of his massive sword before he realized that I was not pulling out a gun. When he saw the dagger, I could see him relax slightly and his hand went back to his side.
“Any chance you might be able to explain this?” I asked, holding it up before me so he could clearly see it.
“I thought that might get your attention,” he said, crossing his massive arms across his barrel chest.
“What's the significance of my name on this blade?” I said, not waiting for him to say anything else.
“That dagger and the weapons that go with it are a gesture,” he said, motioning for one of the others to join us.
The one I thought was a female stepped down from her mount and approached us. Reaching beneath her cloak, she pulled out a bundle, wrapped in what looked to be the fur of a polar bear. She handed it to Thrym without saying a word and took a few steps back, allowing us to speak without interruption.
“In order to show you that we mean no threat and that our offer is genuine,” began Thrym, “we had these made for you. I knew that you had the sword that the traitor used to carry and had renamed it Ulfrbrandr.”
Bergelmir seemed to stiffen when he was called a traitor, but said nothing. I, however, wasn't about to let that pass.
“His name is Bergelmir,” I said. “Besides, it seems to me that it was your people who betrayed him. Bergelmir asked them a simple question and they threatened to kill him. I wouldn't have wanted to work with them, either. Grimnir was a douche-b
ag and I don't blame him for hating the guy.”
“I am not here to debate the trai…debate Bergelmir,” said Thrym darkly. “We have more important matters at hand.”
“The Eldjötnar,” I said, nodding.
“Indeed,” replied Thrym.
“Suppose I believe you,” I said, shifting my weight slightly. “Why should we trust you?”
“Truly, there is blood between us,” admitted Thrym, nodding. “I do not foresee that we will ever be friends. Having said that, the Eldjötnar present a larger threat than either of us can handle on our own. We have no choice but to work together, if we intend to survive.”
With that, he took a step forward and offered me the bundle that he held. I looked at him quizzically, but accepted the offered gift. I was surprised by the weight of it, but made certain I didn't show any outward sign that it was heavy. Thrym seemed to be watching me expectantly; his eyes blazing brightly from beneath his hood and face wrappings.
As I unwrapped the fur, I found that I was holding more than one item. There was another dagger identical to the one that they had left for me with the message. Also inside was an exact match to Ulfrbrandr. Additionally, there was an ornately crafted leather sword belt with a buckle made from silver. Attached to the belt were two leather scabbards for both the daggers and swords. I also found a full set of the armor that they wore, only mine was in tactical black. Now that I could see it clearly, I could see that it was finely crafted and not as heavy as I would have expected.
Glancing up at Thrym, I could see from his stance that he was pleased with the gift. I had to admit, it was beyond generous. These weapons were undoubtedly worth a small fortune. The craftsmanship was amazing and the level of detail on the carvings was intricately delicate. You could see individual feathers on the ravens that adorned the daggers. Whoever had made these had put a great deal of effort into their forging.
“Does this gift please you?” asked Thrym, his tone clearly indicating that he already knew the answer.
Ragnarok Rising: Desolation: Book Five of the Ragnarok Rising Saga Page 9