The Shores of Vanaheim (The Ragnarok Era Book 3)
Page 1
The Shores of Vanaheim
Matt Larkin
Contents
Free novel
Maps
Dramatis Personae
Prologue
Part 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part 2
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Part 3
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Part 4
Chapter 64
Epilogue
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Author’s Ramblings
About the Author
THE SHORES OF VANAHEIM
The Ragnarok Era Book 3
MATT LARKIN
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2017 MATT LARKIN
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Edited Clark Chamberlain and Fred Roth
Published by Incandescent Phoenix Books
incandescentphoenix.com
For my family, those here, and those who have gone.
If you liked The Apples of Idunn, you’ll love the prequel. See the dawn of the Njarar War and the tragic adventures of Agilaz and Volund.
Click the link to claim your free copy and continue the adventure:
http://www.mattlarkinbooks.com/join-the-readers-group-ragnarok-era/
Thanks for reading,
Matt Larkin
For high resolution maps, be sure to check out http://www.mattlarkinbooks.com/ragnarok-era-atlas/.
Dramatis Personae
Aesir
A collection of nine tribes originally living in Aujum, all claiming descent from the great Loridi. Odin has made himself their king and marched them into Hunaland on his way to Vanaheim.
Wodan Tribe:
Odin: King of the Aesir and jarl of the Wodanar
Freki: Varulf boy adopted by Odin; twin of Geri
Frigg: Odin’s wife and daughter of the former jarl of Hasdingi; a vӧlva
Fulla: Frigg’s maid
Geri: Varulf girl adopted by Odin; twin of Freki
Thor: Son of Odin and Frigg
Tyr: Odin’s champion and most important thegn
Athra Tribe:
Annar: Jarl of the Athra; Odin’s cousin on his mother’s side
Eir: Vӧlva to the Athra
Bjar Tribe:
Moda: Jarl of the Bjars
Didung Tribe:
Lodur: Jarl of the Diduni and friendly rival of Odin’s since childhood
Friallaf Tribe:
Jat: New jarl of the Friallafs, after Odin killed Jarl Steinar
Godwulf Tribe:
Hoenir: Jarl of the Godwulfs; former thegn to Jarl Alci, elevated by Tyr, despite not being a varulf
Syn: Hoenir’s daughter and Hermod’s wife
Hermod: Agilaz and Olrun’s son
Hasding Tribe:
Vili: Odin’s brother and now jarl of the Hasdingi
Sigyn: Frigg’s half sister
Agilaz: Sigyn’s foster father; a master hunter and archer
Olrun: Sigyn’s foster mother; a former shieldmaiden
Itrmann Tribe:
Arnbjorn: Jarl of the Itrmanni
Kory: Son of Arnbjorn; a warrior
Skaldun Tribe:
Zisa: Tyr’s ex-wife; a huntress acting as jarl of the Skalduns
Starkad: Zisa’s elder son
Vikar: Zisa’s younger son
Hunalanders
Numerous small kingdoms dot Hunaland. As North Realmers, they speak a language very similar to the Aesir, so the two people can communicate. However, a long history of animosity exists between them, largely due to generations of Ás raids into their lands.
Volsung: A Hunalander king, beholden to the Niflungar through a deal made by his father, Rerir
Reiner: One of Volsung’s captains
Gyrlin: A peasant girl; sister of Reiner
Vallanders
Valland is one of the lands of the South Realms. It is the seat of a powerful empire struggling against the encroachment of the Serkland Caliphate.
Karolus: Emperor of Valland
Roland: His nephew
Niflungar
An ancient people descended from Naefil, a son of Halfdan the Old. Naefil made a pact with Hel, the goddess of Niflheim, and his descendants are called the Children of the Mist. They are largely sorcerers. In ages past they were defeated by the Lofdar and driven to the edges of Midgard.
Gjuki: The Raven Lord, King of the Niflungar
Grimhild: Queen of the Niflungar and High Priestess of Hel.
Gudrun: A sorceress and princess of the Niflungar; ordered to seduce Odin, but fell for him herself.
Gunnar: Gudrun’s youngest brother
Hogne: Gudrun’s middle brother (younger than Gudrun)
Vanir
The people of Vanaheim, long worshipped as gods by the Aesir. Originally human, many have become immortal thanks to the apples of Yggdrasil. Because there are not enough apples to go around, some remain mortal. Though King Njord holds the final authority, the Vanir also have an aristocracy called the Aethelings.
Bragi: God of poetry, husband to Idunn; patron of the Bragnings, a now fallen people
Eostre: Goddess of the dawn and mother of Idunn
Frey: God of fertility, sunshine, and war; when wielding the flaming sword, Laevateinn, nearly unstoppable in battle
Freyja: Goddess of love, sex, and magic; twin sister of Frey
Gefjon: Goddess of plenty, beholden to Lady Sunna
Gullveig: An alchemist
Idunn: The fabled goddess of spring, who gave the spear Gungnir to the Wodanar in generations past, and who gave Odin seven apples from Yggdrasil
Lytir: Keeper of Yggdrasil and speaker for the Norns
Mani: God of the moon
Mundilfari: Former king of Vanaheim who abdicated the throne and then vanished
/> Nerthus: Goddess of fertility and wife of Njord.
Njord: God of the sea; King of the Vanir and father of Frey and Freyja
Sunna: Goddess of the sun, daughter of Mundilfari
Ullr: God of archery
Others
Aegir: A sea giant and husband of Rán; an enemy of the Aesir because of Loki and Sigyn
Audr: A wraith bound to Odin
Hel: Goddess of Niflheim, queen of the dead and the most feared being in the cosmos
Hymir: A jotunn who raised Tyr and is possibly his father
Irpa: A wraith bound in service to Gudrun
Loki: A foreigner who guided Odin to Ymir and who became Sigyn’s lover (formerly known as Loge, patron of the Lofdar)
Nott: Primal goddess of night; feared by the Aesir, rather than worshipped
Rán: Mermaid queen of the sea; wife of Aegir
Sleipnir: Odin’s eight-legged horse
Snegurka: A snow maiden bound in service to Gudrun
Prologue
Nigh unto five thousand years before, Loki—under another alias—had borne witness to the spreading of these mists as they escaped from Niflheim. The same mists now saturated all of this world, enshrouding Castle Niflung and Hel’s so-called children, as if it might hide them away from the wrath of fire coming for them. In the flames, back in those bygone days, he had seen the mists coming and done all he could, prompting the Destroyer to stop Hel—yet another of her aliases—from consuming the Mortal Realm. And the Destroyer had succeeded, after a fashion, at least in banishing the dead queen and closing the breach to Niflheim. And he died, as ever, leaving Loki to watch alone as the mists ravaged civilization and ushered in an ice age.
The Niflungar awaited the return of their goddess, deluding themselves into thinking her reign would be the stuff of glory rather than the very incarnation of nightmares. In their scheming, though, they had taken Sigyn from him, for which crime he had tracked them across half of Midgard. He had warned Sigyn that he did not wish to reveal himself to his enemies and thus allow them the chance to factor his presence into their machinations. He did not wish them to know of him, but that did not mean he would not do so when forced to it.
He rose from where he crouched atop a rock and stalked closer to the castle hidden in the mist. He did not bear a torch now, trusting in an apple consumed in a distant era to ward him against the deleterious effects of those vapors. He would need flame, without doubt, but the Niflungar—still human despite their efforts to the contrary—would stoke a few fires by which to see, and those tiny blazes would serve his needs.
Some few of the sorcerers may have noted his passing, but they could not imagine any foe would come among them, much less alone, nor yet guess who dared enter their stronghold.
Given the utmost care, he might have passed through much of this hold without drawing notice, and that, without doubt, held temptation. After ages of moving only in the shadows, he had grown loath to act so brazenly as he now planned, but the rescue was not enough. Loki had to make certain Queen Grimhild understood the dire consequences of trying to use Sigyn against him. The sorceress thought to control him by holding his love hostage. But fire was a living thing—never easily contained, always seeking freedom. Much like the burning spirit now squirming beneath his flesh, so eager to manifest and claim another piece of him. And today, he must feed the fire.
Thus he strode toward the dungeons, making no further attempt to disguise his presence or passage. A single soldier straightened, attempting to bar his way with a halberd.
“Who are you?”
Loki did not answer. Instead, he lunged around the halberd, caught its haft, and chopped the side of his hand into the soldier’s neck. The man dropped in a heap, unconscious or dead. As he fell, his armor scraped against the stone wall. It might draw others, but then, that too would serve Loki’s purpose here.
He descended the stairs into darkness broken by torches set along the winding wall. Loki pulled one from its sconce and continued down to a landing that opened into a large, high-ceiling room lined with cells on both sides. Grimhild stood at the center of the room, surrounded by guards. Beyond them, Sigyn hung suspended over a pit, naked, her body marred by scars of torture. His love had her jaw set, as if trying not to scream, though her eyes widened as he drew nigh. The Niflung queen had released a large adder along the chains, and it had begun to slither along Sigyn’s arm, worming its way toward her exposed neck.
Loki glared at Grimhild. The woman still bore some bruising from her fight with Odin, but that was naught compared to what Loki would do to her now. A few other torches lined the walls here. Loki was apt to need them, too.
“I give you one chance to release her.” The words tasted foul, and he barely managed them through the seething rage threatening to explode out from him in all directions. Seven men protected the Niflung queen, the largest of which stood a head taller than any of the others and bore an axe too big for most men to lift.
Grimhild scoffed. “And are you truly Loge, patron of the Lofdar, returned to the world of the living?”
“I am.”
“Then allow me to repay the indignities visited upon us in times past.” Ice crystalized along her fingers, and mist began to surround her.
The soldiers slowly advanced on him.
Loki looked to Sigyn, then began to advance himself. “You know naught of the past. I gave man the Art of Fire long before the coming of the mists. I stole it from the heavens to empower humanity against the darkness and hold it at bay. And you, Children of Mist, who scorn that gift and fail to imagine the price paid for its giving, you think to redress wrongs to me?”
He flung the torch at the floor, drawing the flame from it in the process. Those fires swirled around his arm and danced over his palm, even as the spirit wakened within him. Four of her soldiers rushed him. Loki twisted and flung his arm out, uncoiling the flame like a whip that lashed the nearest man across the face. He fell screaming, clutching seared flesh and singed eyes, even as the man behind him tumbled over his prone form.
The next man swung a sword at him. Loki dodged out of the way and kicked the back of the attacker’s knee, sending him sprawling as well. The fourth scored a nick on Loki’s shoulder, but the pain was distant. Loki had had eons of practice at blocking out pain. He spun, caught the man’s wrist as he recoiled from his swing, and twisted. The sword fell from the man’s grasp as Loki’s palm crushed his windpipe and the flames in his hand burnt away Niflung flesh.
Missiles of ice surged toward him, lancing through even Grimhild’s own men who tried to rise. Loki dropped to one knee and spread flames between his hands like a shield, melting the ice, even as it extinguished his flames.
The man with the giant axe swung. Loki rolled to the side and the axe crashed into the stone floor, sending up a shower of dust and pebbles. As he rose, he caught the next attacker by the arm and flipped him over his shoulder, down onto the back spike of that axe.
“Die!” Grimhild shrieked, and flung more ice at him, even as she backed away.
Loki dove to the ground, but lances still lacerated his back and shoulders. The man with the axe was freeing the body from it, while the last soldier ran at Loki. Before Loki could gain his feet, the man thrust a spear at him. Loki twisted one way, then another, dodging strikes, and finally kicking the spear out of position. He rolled to his feet, reaching one hand toward a torch on the wall while the other slammed into the spearman’s face.
The axeman screamed and charged him again. Loki turned, stepped inside the attack, and caught the big man’s face in his flaming hand. His attacker’s bellow turned into a whimper, but Loki wasn’t done. He drove the man down by his head, flinging him off his feet and cracking his skull on the floor. Flesh melted beneath his fingers. Loki screamed at the Niflung and released all the flame in an explosive surge that disintegrated the man’s head and left behind only singed gore.
Panting, as the flame spirit inside reached for control, Loki rose, glaring at Gri
mhild.
It didn’t matter the cost—he had to finish this. He had wanted to leave these people for Odin, who—when he truly realized who and what he was—would have a penchant for destruction and death not even Loki could hope to match. But Sigyn lay suspended over an abyss, frightened and in pain, because these people wanted to hurt Loki.
And her suffering was a blade in his heart.
He ran at Grimhild, who fell back, summoning more ice, though it clearly pained her to do so. She was losing herself to the spirits inside even more quickly than he was. Loki drew flames to both hands as he ran, calling the fires streaming out of torches along the walls.
Grimhild launched a rain of ice at him. Loki rolled out of the way and flung an orb of fire at the queen. She raised a shield of mist, and the flames exploded against it, scorching the air into nothingness that, for a bare instant, made it hard to breathe and sent Loki stumbling. Even as he rose, he flung the second orb at her. It slammed into the recovering sorceress before she had finished drawing up more mist, flames bubbling the flesh along her arms, the impact sending her careening over the edge of the Pit.
The sorceress screamed as she plummeted.
Loki tried to stand, but his knees had grown weak. It had taken a lot out of him. And the flame spirit wanted out—it always wanted out. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, leveling his will against that of an ancient power. For an unmeasurable moment, it fought against him, ever seeking the barest weakness to exploit. Loki clenched trembling fists, knowing they smoldered, feeling cinders crushed between his fingers.
“Loki!” Sigyn shouted.
Flames writhed just behind his eyes, seeking outlet, and he dared not open those eyes for fear she would see those fires. He dared not open his mouth nor divert his attention even for a moment. Until, after longer than he could stand, the spirit acquiesced and relented, settling down to wait for a fresh opportunity.