by Matt Larkin
The words churned in her gut, icy and painful. Begging for release they could never find.
She had done it.
She had murdered Orvar-Oddr, even when he had trusted her.
She had become a wretch.
“What is it?” he asked.
Maybe she deserved whatever urd befell her. Even his wrath. For holding it back, keeping the secret, it ate at her. She liked this man … and lied to him with every breath by the things she could not say.
And she never would.
“I … I know you,” she managed. “You’re still going to Glaesisvellir.”
Starkad leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “I’ll have to wait until the worst of winter passes before I can chance crossing the Gandvik but yes. I must go … I have sworn an oath to deliver Skofnung to Gylfi.”
For her. He’d given up his prize for her. And now, he would again walk into the vile dangers of the Otherworlds because he could not walk away from an oath made on her behalf. And would Orvar leave him in peace?
Doubtful.
Certainly not once the draug realized Starkad was one of the few people left on Midgard Hervor actually cared about. Despite herself. Despite the man’s arrogant, infuriating … she shook her head slowly. “You promised to take me with you when you went.”
Starkad sniffed, dug his palms at his eyes. “Fuck, Hervor. That was before … and even then, probably a mistake.”
“No. I will not release you from our agreement.”
“You have a death wish, woman.”
“Do you?”
Starkad flinched. Was that … was she closer to the mark than she’d expected? Did part of him want to die? He spent nigh to every waking moment chasing adventure and treasure and fame, and doing it oft at the most dangerous extremes of the world imaginable. Beyond this world, even.
Cursed to live a long life, alone, and ever unsatisfied.
Hervor glowered. Well, she wouldn’t let him face it alone. Not Glaesisvellir, not Orvar, not any of it.
“The winter …” She cleared her throat. “It will give us time to heal. Give you more time … to help me master left-handed fighting.”
He groaned. “You will not change your mind?”
No. And her eyes must have told him that, for he nodded, patted her knee, and rose.
Glowering, she watched him go, out into the throng, perhaps seeking drink as he so oft did.
So … the better part of a single winter to find her strength … to learn to be all she’d once been.
And to be ready to head off, beyond the bounds of Midgard.
A chill wracked her.
Epilogue
Odin’s back ached as he trod back to Volund’s workshop. Tracking the smith down in Sviarland had proved fruitless, but Odin had known the svartalf would have to return here, sooner or later.
No surprise, then, that hammer blows once again greeted his arrival.
This time, though, Volund paused mid-stroke and let the hammer drop to his side. A fell gleam lit his eyes as he turned to look upon Odin.
“Another visit?”
Odin strode closer, until he stood just across the anvil. This he rapped with Gungnir and shook his head. “I warned you to tread with care around Starkad.”
Volund shrugged. “Eightarms lives.”
“Barely.”
“Strength is forged through suffering. Perhaps you should thank me. Perhaps even request I continue … the tortures the dvergar wrought onto me make Starkad’s pains seem pale and hardly worth mentioning.”
Odin glowered. “You did not do this for his benefit. Indeed, I find myself … suspecting all that happened was a scheme to weaken Prince Rathwith. Cast out of this world, the vaettr must now find his hold on the courts of Svartalfheim precarious. Perhaps thus giving more maneuvering room to his sister’s bastard son.”
Volund flashed a toothy grin. “I have no idea what you mean, King of the Aesir.”
Odin nodded. “Or perhaps you thought you could win regardless of the outcome. If Rathwith claimed all Sviarland as his domain, he’d have you to thank for it, and your fortunes must rise with his. If he failed … well then, someone else would have the chance to step up and claim what he’d lost.”
“Huh. That sounds like an excellent plan. I wish I’d thought of it.”
Odin surged strength into his limbs, lunged forward. Grabbed the anvil with one hand and flung it, spinning, crashing over the floor.
Volund fell back a step, hammer raised as if the tool might stand a mere instant against Gungnir. Against Odin’s wrath.
But Odin paused. Blew out a long breath. He still needed Volund to finish his works. Without this treacherous alf, all the worlds might fall before Hel. “There is a flaw in your schemes, my friend. If Rathwith had succeeded in possessing Starkad, you might not have come out so far ahead as you seem to think. You would have found me rather … displeased.”
“But. He did. Not.”
Odin shook his head and took several steps backward. Without Volund, he might never see Freyja again. Even the whole world might fall in Ragnarok. And still, he was tempted to strike him down, here and now.
“This is your last warning to stay away from Starkad, Volund. I need the other runeblades back in play, and I need Starkad to get them.”
Volund snorted. “Peace, Ás. I have no further interest in your pawn. And I rather think he will now move on to Glaesisvellir seeking Skofnung. That is what you wanted, is it not?”
“Of course he will go to Glaesisvellir.” Odin turned from the smith.
Wherever rumors of a runeblade lurked, Starkad would go. Of course he would … he had no choice.
Such was the urd Odin had set upon him.
A fate pulled from darkness, years ago.
The Saga continues in Days of Frozen Hearts:
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Days of Frozen Hearts Excerpt
After passing the winter here, the Yngling hall at Upsal had almost started to feel like home. Strange thought, given that Hervor had sworn an oath to bring down the Ynglings at any cost. And here she was, sipping mead and leaning back against the table, cheering the spectacle with the rest of them.
Benches had been pushed aside in the center of the hall, making way for the contestants. Ecgtheow the Tiny had both arms locked around Starkad, bearing him down to the ground. It looked like the big man was finally going to pin his opponent. Despite all Starkad’s speed, Ecgtheow was larger and stronger than … well, almost anyone.
Ecgtheow grunted, driving Starkad down. Starkad tilted over backward. As he did so, he twisted around so fast Hervor barely followed. Suddenly Ecgtheow was in midair, flipping over Starkad’s shoulder. Hervor’s mouth fell open the instant before the big man hit the dusty ground. A horrendous oomph escaped Ecgtheow and the man lay dazed.
Huh. Hervor had trained at wrestling since she was seven winters old. By the time she was nine, she could beat boys her age, a few even older than her. She still couldn’t have pulled off what Starkad just had. The man never ceased to amaze.
King Aun raised his drinking horn. “Eightarms!” The others echoed his cheer throughout the hall. Everyone was in good spirits, what with summer now underway. Summer meant time for crops and safer fishing and, of course, raids. Well … except Aun refused to send his people raiding. The new Yngling king claimed Upsal had lost enough men in the wars.
Man was a craven, no doubt. These Ynglings were like weeds. Yngvi and Alf were dead. Alf’s son Ochilaik was dead. Yngvi’s sons Jorund and Eikkr were dead. Hervor had helped most of them to the grave. And now here was Aun, some cousin to the slain who popped up in the western reaches of Up
sal, almost into Dalar.
Man had come to claim the throne when there was no one left alive to challenge him.
Maybe Hervor ought to have killed him too, but … She’d already held her oath fulfilled.
So much blood.
Yngvi’s man had slain Hervor’s father, but she’d killed the murderer and the king’s son both. What more could Father expect from her? Was she to scour every snowy mound and bog in Sviarland to make sure not a single Yngling pest survived?
No, she had seen enough of war in any event. War had cost her friends, family, even her own body … her right arm might never again be as strong as it had been. She’d spent the past moons trying to heal, trying to train to fight left-handed.
And by Odin’s balls, that was an ordeal.
Besides, she’d given her new oath to Starkad, promised to help the man recover a runeblade from Jotunheim. Odin preserve her against such folly.
Author’s Ramblings
The Ynglings are the most famous of the Swedish dynasties, maybe of all the Scandinavian dynasties. Snorri wrote substantially about them in his Heimskringla (basically a chronicle of stories about the Norse kings, the first section of which is the Yngling Saga). For my work, I condensed some of these stories a bit to ensure they could unfold in a manner conducive to the structure of a novel.
Nevertheless, a small chunk of the stories of the Ynglings forms the foundations of the political aspects of this book. Hervor’s role in the events mythologically is small, merely intersecting with them through the Tyrfing Cycle, but I saw no reason not to maintain her as the central character here.
Starkad, naturally, does appear frequently through these tales, showing up at decisive battles over several generations. As far as his background story, I derived that mainly from the Gautreks Saga and the Hervarar Saga (i.e., The Saga of King Heidrik, the same tale from which Hervor comes).
Within my work, we see the earliest foundations of Starkad’s background begin in The Mists of Niflheim (The Ragnarok Era, book 2) and continue into The Shores of Vanaheim (book 3). Starkad’s first flashbacks in this book take place a few years after Shores ends.
Obviously, Days of Bloody Thrones also serves as a rough sequel or continuation of Volund’s tale, which I began in Darkness Forged. Volund gets his revenge in Darkness Forged but lets Otwin live for decades more, mainly because of the son he impregnated Bodvild with (Wudga). We get the impression Volund may have been subtly encouraging Wudga down this path for a while, but it all comes to a head when Volund sends Wudga to hire his old friend Starkad.
I think this book has a similar tone to Darkness Forged, in that it’s even darker than Days of Endless Night. This darkness was necessary for the tale, but it did prove emotionally challenging to write. There is a great deal of anger and hatred going on in the world, both as people relate to one another, and as they relate to the Otherworlds (the supernatural). In order to be meaningful, this hatred has to manifest in inhumane and even inhuman ways, with the ghost world doing the most awful things imaginable to people.
The Ragnarok Era series itself sometimes flirted with horror aspects, and the nature of the Runeblade Saga brings these books closer to being true horror/fantasy in addition to sword and sorcery adventures. This combination is dear to my heart—I find it compelling, with a strong precedent in works like Conan and Elric—so I hope it provided an enjoyable read.
Finally, I want to extend a big thanks to my developmental editor, Clark, for helping me work through the complex outline and structure for this series. Thanks to my family for their support, and to my copyeditor and cover designer for helping me create a polished final product.
Thank you for reading,
Matt
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Books by Matt Larkin
The Ragnarok Era
The Ragnarok Era is a dark fantasy retelling of Norse mythology, chronicling Odin’s rise to godhood. If you love old legends, tragic mythology, and action-packed reads, check out The Ragnarok Era now!
http://www.mattlarkinbooks.com/ragnarok/
Legends of the Ragnarok Era
Legends of the Ragnarok Era expands on the world developed in The Ragnarok Era series by delivering dark tales outside the main series narrative. Fans of mythology should not miss this epic series.
http://www.mattlarkinbooks.com/ragnaroklegend/
Runeblade Saga
The Runeblade Saga is a series of dark fantasy sword and sorcery adventures set in the world of The Ragnarok Era. Filled with plenty of grim action, tragic heroes, and more than a bit of horror, these books are for fans of mythology and sword & sorcery alike.
http://www.mattlarkinbooks.com/runeblade/
The Worldsea Era
The Worldsea Era is a series of historical fantasy tales set in a fictionalized Hawaii. In a world of endless ocean, mankind struggles to survive on a few islands, facing off against mer people, sentient octopuses, and all manner of sea creature.
http://www.mattlarkinbooks.com/worldsea/
Sins of Angels
Co-written with author J.S. Morin, Sins of Angels is an epic space opera series set 3000 years after the fall of Earth. With the scope of Dune and the adventurous spirit of Indiana Jones, it delivers a conflict that spans galaxies and rests on the spirit of brave researcher Professor Rachel Jordan. Follow the complete saga, and watch as the fate of our species hangs in the balance.
http://www.mattlarkinbooks.com/angels/