The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  “And my father was proud of me. When I was of age, I was included in the council discussions with the clan leaders and with Nas. I learned how to negotiate peace between clans and I gained and earned respect from clan leaders. For I was groomed to lead Aarlund. My father knew I would one day wed, and that whoever I married, I would not need to depend on him, no matter how smart or wise, for decisions that would affect the future of Aarlund.”

  “And so Nas taught me statecraft, diplomacy, as well as how to wage a war campaign. His knowledge of past battles was vast, and he was able to recall historical events often so vividly, I often believed he had been there.”

  “He was as a father to me. Not that I needed another, as my father did not ignore me, and was always able to make time for me. Still, it was always good to know that if my father was away, Nas would be there.”

  Margret stopped there and stared into the flames as silence enveloped the room.

  Margret spoke so suddenly, her voice took Astrid by surprise: “Did you know Nas could turn himself into a bear?”

  But she did not wait for an answer as she continued: “I did not. I knew him practically my entire life and yet I never knew he could turn himself into a bear. And not just any bear but the most enormous bear you have ever saw. And as an Aarlunder, I saw many bears in the great forests, and none matched his size. Those tattoos that decorated his body, covered his skin, must have been powerful runes allowing him to turn into a bear. Nas was a shapeshifter.”

  Astrid asked: “And so Nas attacked the assassins as a great bear? They must have been terrified.”

  Margret gently shook her head, not saying a word. And when she spoke, it was barely a whisper: “He never attacked the assassins, he attacked only me.”

  “What?” demanded Astrid, shocked. Then her voice dropped to a whisper: “Why? He adored you. He would never have attacked you.”

  Margret was unmoved.

  “The assassins stole his mind,” was Margret’s answer, the light from the flames reflecting in her eyes. “He fought the assassin’s control, I am sure of that as he was a powerful druid. But still, the assassins broke my mind. I am sure they broke his as well. They broke him.”

  “It is not your fault,” said Astrid.

  “I know,” blurted Margret. “But it was by my hand he died.”

  “You must not feel guilty about killing him. It was what the assassins wanted: they wanted to twist your guilt, use it against you, turn you against friend and family. They thought you would have to keep it a secret forever and that they would use its disclosure against you. But they were wrong.”

  Margret shook her head, said: “Their master was right about one thing?”

  “What is that?”

  “I am an assassin. I am a killer. I killed them all. The great and feared Black Hand. I killed them all. Even the master, even the demon they conjured that feasted on minds, I killed them all. They thought to break my mind and then rebuild it in their image to make me the perfect killer. I do not believe I could have killed them before. But when they broke my mind and stole it, when my mind came back, it was changed, a part of me changed. Perhaps it was when I realized I had killed Nas that I knew I was going to destroy the assassins guild. It was as if I were in a dream. Their sharp blades always missed but mine never did.”

  Without meaning to, Astrid moved back a step.

  Margret noticed and chuckled, but the sound did not please the queen.

  “Queen Astrid, you have nothing to fear from me. I am not replacing the assassins guild in their quest for your death. No, the darkness lifted from my mind days ago. I now see clearly what must be done. The master of the assassins guild said as much before he died on my blade. His guild was merely a puppet being pulled on strings. And who always pulls the strings? Who takes our measure? Norns.”

  “Impossible. The Norns could not have controlled assassins.”

  “The Norns fear the Sorceress most of all. When I asked the master who he worked for, all he did was pose the question: ‘Who has the most to lose from the return of the Sorceress?’ And I have pondered the answer to his question now for days. And I just realized as I stared into the fire, it is the Norns who have the most to fear. They have the most to lose. The Sorceress may destroy Yggdrasil and the Midgard Serpent. That is what gives the Norns their power. It is not even that the Sorceress must destroy both: just one may be destroyed and the other will convulse the realms, so it will need to be destroyed as well. But it is not Yggdrasil or the Midgard Serpent I will destroy. It is the Norns for they have interfered for the last time.”

  “Margret, think about what you say, the Norns are too powerful, it is impossible.”

  “There is a way, there is always a way. But before I embark on possibly my last quest and adventure, I ask one favor.”

  “Anything, Margret.”

  Margret hesitated before she said: “I would ask you erase my memories of Nas from my mind.”

  Astrid grimaced. “I cannot,” she began, “as it is beyond my abilities to perform that type of magic. I would be afraid I would erase more than just the memories of Nas.”

  Margret nodded, disappointment plain on her face. “It is as I thought, you are too weak,” she said.

  Astrid’s eyes narrowed as she sat up straighter. Then: “I think it might be best for you to leave, princess. This ordeal has been hard on you, for many reasons. You had best take the time to mourn Nas.”

  Then Margret laughed, and Astrid stood quickly, her hands open and ready.

  Margret said: “Do not think I have forgotten what you did to those assassins in the Trondheim thieves guild. I saw. But it would be interesting though, my blade skills against your magic. But I am afraid I would lose and then I would not be able to seek revenge.”

  “You realize the Norns see all, know all. They weave the Tapestry of our lives. They measure the strings that are our lifelines. And they cut those same strings. How do you know they will not simply cut your lifeline?”

  “They cannot willfully cut anyone’s string. There are rules and even the all-powerful Norns must follow those rules. And so, yes, as much as they may want to cut my string and end my life, they must wait. Which does not mean they will not interfere in my life and throw some demons my way.”

  “Or an entire assassins guild,” said Astrid.

  Margret chuckled but there was no mirth in the sound. Said: “Which makes me question how far ahead in time the Norns may see. Or, perhaps, some things may be seen more clearly than others. Who knows, they may already know the outcome of my battle with them. I am glad I do not.”

  While Margret had talked, Astrid had walked over to the door to her room and opened it to the hallway. The guards outside snapped to attention.

  Margret said in a loud voice: “I wish you a good day, Princess Margret.”

  Margret sniffed disdainfully, and as she strode out of Astrid’s room past the guards, she said nothing in parting.

  CHAPTER 42

  The Elf King and a Norn

  King Amaliji of Alfheim opened his eyes.

  He felt none of the typical drowsiness some experienced when they woke in the middle of the night. His was a warrior’s response, all his senses alert, his body ready for battle.

  What disturbed me from my sleep?

  Slowly and deliberately he moved his hand out from under his bed covers and instinctively found the hilt of the Vorpal Blade in the darkness.

  His ears tingled as he strained to hear something other than the usual commotions in the hall or the sound of the occasional horse neighing in the far stables.

  He slid out of bed without making a sound, his bare feet silently padding the ground as they touched the cool stonework of the floor. His wife slumbered peacefully.

  Not wanting to draw the Vorpal Blade from the scabbard, afraid the sword may catch some light from outside and draw attention, he left the blade sheathed.

  His eyes adjusted to the blackness of the night. No moon shone, no candles burned.
>
  But something had caused him to wake. A sound, something unnatural, something he knew he should not hear as he slept. What was it?

  Then, there, just the slightest whisper of a sound.

  If anyone could have seen in the darkness, they would have seen Amaliji’s body as a blur of motion. His cat-like reflexes sprang into action and in one fluid motion, he unsheathed the Vorpal Blade—the scabbard clattering on the stone floor—and drove the sword with all his might at whoever or whatever was in the corner of his bedroom.

  The point of his sword struck stone, and such was the magic of the blade and such was the strength behind it, that the blade drove several inches into the wall.

  Breathing heavily, Amaliji let go his sword, letting it to hang in mid-air. A sudden blaze of light caused him to throw his forearm protectively over his eyes.

  “Who dares…” he started, but then a voice, a woman’s voice he recognized, stopped him.

  She said: “Perhaps, King Amaliji, you would prefer to sit.”

  A statement, not a question.

  He sat at the end of his bed and stared at the floor, not because of the brightness that had suddenly appeared in his room like a hot noonday sun, but because he did not want to lock eyes with the woman who spoke.

  The woman sitting in the chair of the corner of Amaliji’s bedroom tried to stand, but the Vorpal Blade had caught in the hood of her cloak pinning her to the wall like an arrow pinning a bird to a tree.

  She undid the string that held the cloak, and stood, avoiding the blade. She walked over, picked up the sword’s scabbard, and then with one hand, easily pulled the blade from the wall, sheathed it, and handed it to Amaliji.

  Amaliji now saw that the light emanated from a jewel in the middle of a tiara she wore.

  Amaliji said: “If it pleases you, I would appreciate it if the light was not quite so bright. I would not wish for my wife to wake.”

  The light dimmed to the brightness of several candles. Listening, Amaliji noticed his wife still slept, which he now knew was not a natural sleep.

  “You are correct, King Amaliji, your wife sleeps and will not wake while we talk.”

  Now Amaliji knew with whom he spoke: “Which Norn are you?” he demanded.

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, it matters not. I would offer you food and drink, but I do not believe you came here for small pleasantries.”

  “My time is limited.”

  Amaliji raised his head so that he could see her face but still avoided her gaze. At times, the face appeared old and wrinkled, her hair white. And then he would blink, and the Norn’s face appeared young, her skin smooth, her hair black like a raven’s feathers.

  “I have heard your voice before, Mother. I thought it a dream, but now I understand; it was you who spoke to me so long ago.”

  “I visited you before and I spoke to you before. And now I find myself here. It is a time of great upheaval. The Midgard Serpent and Yggdrasil connect the realms, bind them together. The magic everyone feels in all the realms is because of those great beings–one cannot exist without the other. Yggdrasil provides order through the realms, the Midgard Serpent: chaos.”

  “And that is why the elves desire the Sorceress.”

  The Norn laughed and for the first time in his life Amaliji tasted fear and it was not a taste he enjoyed.

  “It is a false Sorceress you and your people wish to prostrate before. She is an abomination, no the abomination. My sisters and I have taken note of this so-called Sorceress and she is false. You cannot make a Sorceress, no matter how much magic from the Midgard Serpent and Yggdrasil coursed through her body.”

  Amaliji shook his head. Said “I do not believe you, Mother. The Sorceress was prophesized. Her coming, no matter if it was due to a magical bath of chaos and order, the girl will be born a Sorceress. It is a prophecy fulfilled.”

  “And you think this child will cause my sisters and I to quiver in fear? To lie awake at night, worried if we will wake to see another day? You elves, always so quick to believe a story.”

  Amaliji laughed to hide his fear. “You and your sisters will give my people what we deserved so long ago. My people were once as powerful as Odin and all the Norse Vanir and Aesir. There was to be a bond between the elves and the Norse gods, one forged by marriage. Asgard was to be our realm, shared with the Norse gods. And now would be the perfect time as Asgard lies empty, fallow. It is mine to rule, mine to command.”

  “And what exactly would you be king of? As you said, Asgard lies fallow, its once lush fields empty, filled with dust. You wish to be the king of dust?”

  Amaliji smiled like a wolf. “Asgard still has power. The other realms will listen to me. With Asgard as my realm, I will rule all the Norse realms.”

  Again the Norn laughed and again Amaliji felt his guts turn cold. He worried his smile looked forced.

  She said: “You wish to be king of Asgard? Then so be it. Years ago, Asgard fell, its many buildings crashing into Midgard. The so-called Knights Stable once was the great stable in Asgard that housed Odin’s mighty eight-legged steed. And the Pegasus, those rode by the Valkyrie, were also looked after there. The School in Midgard should be familiar to you: it was once where the elves were housed, the so-called tip of Odin’s spear, when they stayed in Asgard before being sent on an errand by Odin to pick up some useless bauble for him. And that thieves guild exists in another realm, and those buildings too once belonged to Asgard. Asgard lost all its power a long time ago, no one will listen to you.”

  “They will listen to me if I hold Gunghir, Odin’s spear in my hand.”

  “Perhaps, but you do not know where it is.”

  “I know that Gunghir Sister-Spear can find it. The two spears are as family, forever bound together, forever linked. There is a way one may find the other.”

  “Then you had best hurry, for Princess Margret seeks Gunghir Sister-Spear.”

  “Her!” And the memories of Margret flooded his mind and he became concerned as he remembered her skills in battle, her bravery, and her way with words. “Why would she?”

  “Because she too knows its secret.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Margret at the Forge

  In the kitchen above the forge, disbelief was plain to see on Farling’s face as he said: “Princess, you tell us you know where to find Odin’s spear, Gunghir?”

  Arastead added: “The Norns of late meddle too much, if you ask me.”

  “Sounds like a trap,” said Grum.

  “I am with Grum,” said Arastead. “But more importantly: Why would you seek Gunghir’s spear? Is it for one of the remaining Norse gods? Freya, for instance.”

  Margret shook her head once: “I seek it,” she replied. Then: “For me.”

  Arastead said: “Beware the Norn who seeks to influence the Tapestry she and her sisters weave. Once again, the fate of Midgard lies in the balance between order and chaos. We may not tip too far one way.” And then he added: “And who says you are worthy enough to wield it?”

  Margret fixed her eyes on Arastead: “I may wield it if I earn the right to wield it. That will make me worthy.”

  Farling asked: “And how does one go about earning the right?”

  “I must defeat the spear’s guardian,” she replied.

  Grum shrugged. “Sounds easy enough to me,” he said, then mumbled: “Now, where did I put my gloves and belt.”

  “Good,” said Margret, “I knew I could always count on you, Grum.”

  Farling winced and sighed loudly. He realized how this was playing out as he said: “Princess, I hope you realize by now that where you lead, I follow. During our time in Alfheim when Mage trained us, it was always your leadership I followed. And the reason I fought as long as I could against Grendel was because of your command. While I was always hoping to lead, I realized that when you are around, it is to you I listen, it is to you I follow. But, having said that, I do not wish to follow you blindly. Nor do I wish for you to be blind to the situati
on. I like to think of us as friends as well, even though you are Aarlund royalty. We four have been through a lot. And I like to think we can tell each other what we think, regardless of our status in society.”

  Margret’s voice was haughty in her reply: “And what is it you wish to tell me.”

  Farling winced at her tone. Then: “As our leader, I know you do not need to tell us everything. My sword is yours to command. During battle, I do not question your orders else I hesitate and the warrior who hesitates in battle is dead. And I do not want to die. But I need to know more about why suddenly you seek Gunghir. You are not bereft in items of magic.”

  She stared as the floor. “Nas is dead.” Everyone murmured condolences, the same condolences they had said to her days ago. “And with his passing, we must be strong. The assassins found our weaknesses, exploited them.”

  “But the assassins are gone,” said Arastead. “You wiped out their nest single handedly.”

  Her eyes flashed as she said: “Yes, the assassins may be gone, but not the ones they followed.” She paused before she spoke again. “They were the pets of the Norns.”

  “But,” stammered Grum, “if the Norns gave instructions to the assassins, then what does that mean about the Norns?”

  “That they are not to be trusted and must be brought to heel,” she said.

  CHAPTER 44

  The Thieves Guild Store

  As they approached the alley that led to the entrance of the thieves guild, Farling noticed it was unusually busy. “Why are there so many stalls selling wares near the guild?” he asked.

  “It is not just near the guild,” said Arastead, “the entire alley leading to the entrance is filled with tables and people hawking goods.”

  They walked through the buyers and sellers and listened as everyone bartered for the best price.