Across the heavens, I could see lightning rolling through the dark grey sky. It illuminated the clouds in shades of blue and green. It was eerily like the Aurora Borealis. Then I remembered that Surtr had opened the Bifrost and I felt a chill run down my spine.
"What if we didn't seal the gate?" I thought to myself. "What if we only wedged it open?"
The voice of Fornjot snapped me out of my thoughts.
"We need to keep moving, Grant," he rumbled. "I have little doubt that the magma will reach this position."
"There's no telling how far it will go," I added, nodding. "From the size of that caldera, I'd say it will go for miles in every direction."
"Indeed," agreed Fornjot. "All the more reason for us to keep going."
Nudging Volcano with my heels, we began moving. Fornjot motioned for everyone to move out and urged them on to go faster than we had before. I wasn't sure how fast the lava flow was moving, but I didn't want to be here when it arrived. It was strange that we could feel the heat on our backs, yet there was snow crunching beneath the hooves of our horses. It reminded all of us of what was happening behind us and the need for urgency.
We rode on in silence for quite some time, reaching the ruin of the Mega-Mart outside Nixa before anyone said a word. It was a solemn occasion for all of us. Spec-4 was sleeping after having been given another dose of the healing quaff. I could tell by the perspiration on her face that she was running a fever, but there wasn't much else that could be done for her. At least, not with what I had on hand.
The area was barren and desolate, without as much as a whisper of the dead. Not even the Frostbiters approached us. I was sure that the Hrimthurssar were clearing the path for us, but I wasn't exactly sure why. In the distance, we could hear the occasional howl from one of the Vargr, but we never saw so much as a glimpse of one. With the ruined city, the burning volcano behind us and the lack of anything moving, it felt almost like we were the last living things on the planet. I knew that wasn't true, but it didn't stop it from feeling that way.
"I think that we will be safe from the lava, now," said Fornjot.
"Why is that?" I asked, turning in the saddle.
"We have been going steadily uphill for quite some time," he explained. "Although the grade is slight, it is nonetheless enough to force the lava away from us. Most likely to the southwest."
I recalled what I knew of the topography of the area. I knew that the Ozark Mountains were higher as you got closer to the Arkansas state line and lower closer to Oklahoma. That meant that the worst of the lava flow would be heading towards Mount Vernon, Missouri. It might reach ten miles or more. The city of Republic was likely already burning.
From the way the land was, I would guess that the lava would likely cover everything from Strafford to Republic. That would cover a huge area of land around Springfield. I doubted that it would make it all the way to Nixa and Ozark, since the elevations were slightly higher in this direction. That wouldn't keep us out of the blast range for future eruptions, but it would mean that we were past the point where the lava was a direct threat. At least, I hoped we were. I might have been wrong about the elevations.
"We should consider making our camp, soon," said Fornjot. "What light we have will soon fade."
"I'm not sure I want to camp here," I said, gesturing at the ruin.
This had once been a vibrant area, full of shopping and families and soccer games. Now, it was a bleak and desolate reminder of what we had lost. Buildings that had once been centers of commerce and gathering were charred and twisted, almost beyond recognition. What happened in here was horrible to behold, leaving the buildings a ruinous heap. I knew that most of it had happened during the fall when the dead returned, but I figured that some of it had been deliberate.
For example, the church with burned out cars piled against the exits. To my eye, it looked as if someone had barricaded it from the outside before setting it on fire. I only hoped that they had done so to contain the dead, not destroy the living that had been seeking refuge inside those walls. Just because I didn't share their faith didn't mean I didn't respect it.
Faith is the power that guides us all. A belief in something bigger than ourselves helped to define who we were and where we hoped to go when this world was ash. I'd lived through proof of my own faith. I hoped that they were enjoying the fruit of theirs, in whatever the next world held for them.
"We can press on until we clear this accursed place," said Fornjot.
"I don't think that I can rest here," I replied, still glancing around.
"Did you know this place well?" he asked, keeping his tone low.
"Not really," I answered. "I drove through here on my way to the lake, but I never lived here. It's a place I knew from living around here for so long."
"Yet it bothers you, still," he said, nodding understanding. "It is the familiarity that makes the desolation all the more significant."
"Maybe," I said, shrugging. "I'm not sure exactly why it bothers me. It's just a feeling that I get."
"Trust your instincts," replied Fornjot. "The Gods put that voice in your ear for a reason."
"I usually do," I said, smiling. "My gut feelings have kept us alive through some nasty situations."
"Then we keep moving," he said, motioning for the others to move out.
We rode on, increasing our vigilance through unspoken agreement. I noticed that I wasn't the only one who had an uneasy feeling. Several of the Eldjötnar warriors had brought out their bows or were keeping their hands on their weapons. I hadn't realized that I was doing the same thing. I had unconsciously let my hand drift to the handle of my Beowulf. In doing so, I did feel moderately better.
I didn't start to let my guard down until we had cleared the city limits of Nixa. We had to pass down the main street of town and out the east end, heading for another small town called Ozark. Our ultimate destination was farther south of Ozark near the Busiek State Park. It was a thickly forested area and only a few roads ran through it. Although I'd never been to Pensmore Castle, I knew roughly where it was. I was going to rely on instinct to bring us right to his door.
We broke for the night near a small warehouse building. The sign out front had long since been destroyed and ice clung to the front of the building. It might not be big enough to house us all, but it was a start. There were several smaller buildings around it and between them all, we would be able to find shelter for the night.
"We rest here," announced Fornjot to the rest of the group. "Set sentries and get a fire going."
I could see the discipline of his people as they fell to their tasks without complaint. In minutes, I could hear the sound of axes chopping down trees. Wood for the fire. Others were already setting light to kindling, preparing the fire pit for the larger pieces that would soon be coming. Still others broke out the tents and cooking supplies. I noticed several archers take up stations at key vantage points to provide cover for us all.
I nodded my approval and Fornjot only smiled. He was right to be proud of his people. They were warriors. I was beginning to think that we just might pull this off, after all. Loki and the Hrimthurssar would be in for a shock when we reached Pensmore.
Chapter Thirty One
Whispers in the Dark
"Accept the things to which fate binds you,
and love the people with whom fate brings you together,
but do so with all your heart".
- Marcus Aurelius
The smell of cooking food and the sounds of the camp filled my thoughts. After checking on Spec-4, I decided to let her rest. She needed it and it wasn't going to do her any good to have me hovering over her. I had no doubt that she was in good hands with the Eldjötnar. For reasons I couldn't fully explain, I liked Fornjot and knew that his intentions were good.
It was full-on dark now, with the only light coming from the campfires and the ominous orange glow on the horizon where Springfield once stood. Snow mixed with ash had been falling, but so far wasn't causing
us any discomfort. I knew that the more the volcano spewed into the sky, the more that would continue to fall down on us. No matter the outcome of my fight with Loki, we needed to get out of here before it got much worse.
Fortunately for us, the wind was blowing most of the ash away from us and to the west. That gave us at least a brief respite from the worst of the ash. Only the steady rumbling growl of the ever expanding volcano stood as a constant reminder of the cataclysmic cycle that was happening less than ten miles away.
As I grew more and more restless, I began to pace around the camp searching for something to keep my hands and mind actively engaged so I didn't dwell on everything else. I had my weapons on, but I had stowed my backpack in the back of the wagon with Spec-4. I wasn't expecting any major engagements, but I wasn't about to walk away from my weapons. After everything we'd seen and done, going around unarmed was as close to suicide as you could get.
When I found myself walking into the edge of the woods on the south end of camp, I heard soft crunching in the hard-packed snow. At first, I assumed it was one of Fornjot's men gathering more wood. After a few moments, I realized that whatever it was, it was nowhere near the size of an Eldjötnar warrior.
Instinctively, I froze in my tracks and slowed my breathing while straining my ears to hear enough to identify the source of the sound. Moving my hand with infinite patience, I crept a millimeter at a time until my fingers wrapped around the handle of my Beowulf. I knew that there was already a round in the chamber, I just had to turn off the safety without alerting whatever was out there with the sharp metallic click.
I held my breath as I eased the switch from safe to semi, tensing as it made the final slip into firing position. Luck was on my side as it slid in without enough noise to carry more than a few feet. My nerves were now as taut as a bowstring, with every ounce of my hunting instincts on full alert. I was in hunter mode, now. Whatever it was out there had just become my prey.
Breathing silently, I eased the weapon up to my shoulder and carefully brought it into firing position. Placing my eye behind the ACOG, I began sweeping the area in search of the source of the sound. It wasn't long before I found my quarry. Moving through the deep brush was a magnificent buck.
What instantly stood out about this buck was the color. It was snow white with a massive rack of horns. Tales of the White Stag of Scottish legend began to flood through my mind. These tales were the bedtime stories told to me by my paternal grandfather and namesake. Wylie Edan Grant was his name and mine was Wylie Eamon Grant. He was born in Scotland in the early part of the 20th Century and immigrated to the United States while he was still a young boy. He never lost the accent, though.
Although I remembered well the tales of the White Stag leading men away towards some destiny, I couldn't resist following it. I knew that I shouldn't wander off alone, but I just had to follow it. As if sensing this, the magnificent beast would occasionally stop and look right at me before resuming its journey deeper into the woods. I had no idea where it was leading me, but I knew I had to find out.
The darkness grew deeper and the glow on the horizon faded away as the woods closed in around me. I lost track of time and distance as I continued to pursue the mysterious animal. Despite the thickness of the woods, I had no trouble following it. Although I never seemed to gain any ground, it never got far enough ahead of me where I lost sight of it. The thought of shooting it never even entered my head.
As the moon began to peek through the scant gaps in the thick layer of orbital debris, I started to see more clearly. The stag had now gotten far enough ahead of me that I was only catching the occasional glimpse of it through the trees. No matter how hard I pushed to pursue, I couldn't gain any ground.
After a long while, I emerged from the trees and found myself on a small hill overlooking a river. The map in my head told me that it could only be the Finley River, south of Nixa. The ice had broken up and the water was moving. Large slabs of ice were moving downstream, but there were sections that were clear of the ice. It was in one of these sections that I saw movement.
I stopped and took cover behind a tree, peering out into the darkness. Emerging from the water was two naked figures. In the moonlight, the water glistening on their skin looked almost like molten silver. It took me a few moments to realize that I knew who they were. Standing in the snow without modesty or reaction to the cold were the twins, Vigdis and Valdis.
They were on the same side of the river as me and only about twenty yards away. I couldn't figure how the stag had passed through here without them seeing it. I found it unlikely that the Hrimthurssar would pass up the chance to take down game to stock their supplies, much less that it had gotten through here without alerting the Vargr.
I felt a lump form in my throat, seeing the twins standing there like Goddesses in the moonlight. They stood like statues not speaking or moving, for a long moment. I couldn't help but wonder if they sensed my presence or if they were waiting for something else, entirely. I didn't have to wonder for long.
From the trees on the far side of the river emerged a lone rider, mounted on a massive Vargr. This one was colored slightly different from the others that I had seen. Most of the Vargr were as white as the driven snow, making them all the more deadly predators in the frozen wastes. This one was the blue grey of smoke with white along its snout, chest and underbelly. The beast's eyes shone with an eerie red light, all their own. The rider stood out just as much.
This massive warrior was every bit as big as Thrym, possibly even bigger. Without seeing him standing up I could only estimate, but it was possible that he was as large as Surtr. The massive war-hammer he held in one hand glistened in the pale moonlight. One side of the hammer had a massive head for smashing his enemies. The other side was edged with the blade of a battle axe. Even from this distance, I could see the runes etched into the steel.
His helmet was fashioned in the likeness of a dragon's head, with the mouth open in a silent roar. The fangs protruded from either side of his eyes and extended down below his chin. The rest of the teeth followed the curve of his jaw and framed the rest of his face. It was a fearsome image. The head featured long curved horns that emerged from the front of the dragon skull, thrusting forward almost two feet and ending with sharp points.
The rider was heavily armored and had long flowing black hair which hung down from beneath the helmet. His ebony beard was braided and fell to the middle of his barrel chest. His eyes twinkled with malevolence, reflecting the bitter cold moonlight and bringing a chill to my blood. I had little doubt that this was a dangerous and deadly warrior.
"What do you want, Valgard?" demanded Vigdis, making no move to cover her body.
"I am only admiring my prizes," he replied wickedly.
"My sister and I do not belong to you, Lokison," snarled Valdis.
"In time," he rumbled. "When the Einherjar are broken and this world is ours for the taking, you will belong to me."
"Do not underestimate Grant," cautioned Vigdis. "Just because he is not expecting you, do not think that he cannot defeat you."
"I will tear off his head and hang it from my tent so that you may look into his dead eyes and remember while I am taking you both, again and again," he sneered, his voice full of hate.
"You have not defeated him, yet," said Valdis, "and you will have to kill me before I will submit to you."
"My father has decreed it," snarled Valgard. "You would defy Loki? You will learn your place, woman!"
"We shall see," replied Vigdis, reaching for her bow.
"Go ahead," roared Valgard. "I need only an excuse to take you both, now! My father will not question it since Grant killed your father. His agreement was with Thrym, not you!"
"Yet the agreement stands so long as we hold to our end," said Valdis, placing her hand on Vigdis' shoulder.
"Keep your rabble in line and continue to follow Loki's plans until we deal with the Einherjar once and for all," he answered, placing his hand on the handle of hi
s war-hammer. "Speak no words of warning to Grant or our agreement is void. Break this agreement and we will not spare your people. They will suffer the same fate as the Einherjar and any of the Eldjötnar foolish enough to oppose us."
"Then you will stick to your end," replied Vigdis, raising her bow. "Stay away from me and my sister or there will be blood."
"Actually," he sneered, "I wouldn't have it any other way. That will make taking the two of you all the sweeter. I will show you who your master is, when the time comes."
Without another word, the massive Vargr turned and padded off into the trees. For a long moment, you could hear the thundering of the gigantic paws as they crunched through the snow at speed. After a long moment, even that faded away into the darkness. Vigdis lowered her bow and turned to face me.
"You can come out now, Grant," she said, smiling broadly.
Without hesitating, I slipped out of the shadows and headed down the slope to where they stood. Both of them turned so that the moonlight glinted across their bodies, giving me an incredible view.
"How did you know I was there?" I asked, trying hard not to stare.
"I could smell you," she replied. "I know your scent. It's a mixture of sweat and gun oil."
"I really need a shower," I muttered.
"Why?" asked Valdis. "It suits you."
"You heard everything?" said Vigdis, cocking her head to the side.
"I heard enough," I answered. "I had no idea that Thrym was your father. I'm sorry."
"Do not apologize," said Valdis. "He died honorably. He would have killed you if he had won. Do not feel sad at his loss. You were both warriors fulfilling your duties."
I stood there, confused. I couldn't understand why they wouldn't be angry with me for killing their father. I'm not sure that I would have been as understanding if the situations were reversed.
"Kill Valgard and we will consider the scales balanced," added Vigdis.
"I have the feeling that I will have the opportunity to do just that," I said, glancing in the direction that Valgard had gone.
Ragnarok Rising: Desolation: Book Five of the Ragnarok Rising Saga Page 41