The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  “Hush,” hissed Farling. “Even though the assassins have been destroyed, I would not speak so loudly of that ancient guild. As Liulfr says, if there are lone guild members still alive, I now fear them most as they have nothing to lose. And an assassin with nothing to lose is someone you must fear.”

  “And besides,” started Grum, “you four were lousy when it came to protecting the princess when you tried to infiltrate that guild. You four left her behind.”

  Liulfr stopped, his body rigid with menace, as he faced Grum. Said: “We owe Princess Margret our lives, blacksmith. We swore an oath to protect her. If you had been in that guild when attacked, you would not have lasted as long as us.”

  Grum stepped closer to Liulfr and adjusted his war hammer. “If we had been there instead of competing against frost giants in Jotunheim, we would have protected the princess and destroyed the nest of snakes then and there,” he said.

  Liulfr moved closer so that their noses almost touched. Then: “You would have cried like a baby if you had been there.”

  “I will make you cry like a baby,” growled Grum as he took a step backwards and shifted his grip his war hammer as if to strike.

  “Enough!” yelled Margret. “We have other enemies we need to fight. We do not fight amongst ourselves. Grum, Liulfr, whoever strikes the first blow faces my wrath.”

  Farling had never seen Margret so angry and watched as Grum lowered his weapon and Liulfr assumed a more relaxed stance.

  “We do feel badly, princess,” said Grum, his head lowered, “that is, Farling, Arastead and me, that we were not there when you and the were-beasts infiltrated the School. I do like to think if we had been there as well, that you would not have been captured.”

  “I thank you for the kind words, Grum,” said Margret. “But it is as Liulfr says, the assassins were unlike any we fought before. Even if you blacksmiths had been there, you may not have made as much of a difference as you would like to think. Now, I am headed to the castle to see how Queen Astrid and her child fare.”

  At that, a pair of guards rushed by, screaming at them to move out the way as they ran towards the castle.

  Farling chuckled, then said: “I think we had best chase those guards. Something is afoot in the castle.”

  And with that they all ran, and in a few minutes, caught up to and ran past the guards who by now were terribly winded and held their sides.

  CHAPTER 53

  The Birth of the Sorceress

  “It is all right, you may let them pass.”

  “Our thanks, Phillius,” said Margret to the king’s secretary.

  Farling looked around inside the castle courtyard. Everywhere he looked, armed guards milled about trying to look busy and fierce all at the same time.

  Margret’s voice was a whisper, said: “Phillius, what news? Are queen and child safe?”

  “Princess, if you would be so kind, follow me,” said Phillius, his manners not lost during this situation. “I was told to bring you as soon as I found you. You four,” he said pointing at the were-beasts, “stay out here.”

  “No, Phillius,” said Margret, her voice calm and soothing. “They had best come with me. I worry they may cause mischief if they are not by my side.”

  Phillius just grunted, not pleased at being overruled, and led them all through the hallways and up the sets of stairs. Said: “It appears an elf entered this castle and was moments away from what we believe was his intent to kidnap the queen’s child. Somehow, I am still confused about it, as the elf was lifted off the ground by some magical force and hurled against a wall, which broke so many of his bones, he nearly died then and there. But Mage was there and as he is a good ogre,” Phillius shook his head in disbelief, “he cut off the elf’s head. So that elf will bother us no more.”

  “Obviously,” said Grum but everyone ignored him.

  Farling shook his head. Phillius obviously did not know that the elf in question was not some simple elf warrior but none other than the elf king himself, Amaliji. And privately, Farling worried about how the realm of the elves would respond.

  Margret said: “I ask again, Phillius, are queen and child safe?”

  Phillius answered stiffly: “They are. The priest from the Paupers Temple was summoned as it is understood he has great healing powers. So, he is there already, him and his wooden staff, which he claims he needs to make his healing magic stronger. Unfortunately, King Frederick lost a hand during battle. This elf’s sword seems to be keenly sharp, and capable of causing great injury. And the priest claims there is nothing he may do about the king’s hand.”

  Everyone halted of a sudden as the hall was too crowded with guards to allow them passage.

  “Make way!” cried Phillius. “Make way for the king’s secretary!”

  The guards pressed themselves flat up against the walls allowing a path just wide enough for everyone to walk down.

  In a moment they were in a large room. Farling noticed the door to the room was broken and hung limply off its hinges. Inside the room, large windows allowed the sun’s light to stream through, keeping away some of the chill. A fire blazed in the fireplace in one corner, while several midwives and queen’s maids fussed over everything, cleaning while complaining about all the men being in the room.

  “’Most unbecoming’,” Farling overheard one the maids say, causing him to chuckle.

  Looming over everyone was Mage, deep in discussion with Sihr. Noticing the group, he nodded and waved them over. Sihr grinned in greeting as well.

  Mage rumbled: “As you probably may already be able to tell, with or without your circlet, the queen is safe.”

  “And her child?” said Margret.

  Mage nodded. “Her daughter is fine as well,” he said. “Healthy. 10 fingers, 10 toes.”

  “May we see her?” asked Margret.

  “She is in the adjacent room but the midwifes have been most strident in their claims that Queen and child need rest, not more excitement,” said Mage.

  At that, Farling overheard more grumbling from the midwives.

  “And what of the king?” asked Margret.

  “He comforts his queen,” said Mage.

  Sihr interjected: “There was nothing I could do about his severed hand,” he said, “except comfort his pain.”

  “And the queen?” asked Margret. “Is she in pain?”

  Sihr shook his head. “No more pain than usual from childbirth,” he said. “I was allowed to do some healing for her as well, but it was from behind curtains, as the midwives and maids would not allow anyone, especially a man, especially a man not the king or husband, that close to the queen.”

  More grumbling from the maids and midwives could easily be overheard by everyone in the group.

  Margret sighed in relief. Said: “I knew you could take care of Amaliji, Mage, else we would not have left you alone to battle him.”

  Mage looked around to make sure no one was listening. Still, he motioned they stand a little closer, further from the maids and midwives as he spoke in a whisper: “Was not me who took care of the elf king. Amaliji and I were at a standstill and when he heard the peal of the bells announcing the birth of the Dennland princess, he cast a portal rune and traveled here, where he slaughtered any and all who faced him as he made his way to the queen’s chamber to find and kidnap the child.”

  Grum interrupted. “You mean the Sorceress,” he said.

  Mage grunted. “This fight revealed more than I expected,” he rumbled. “I travelled by foot to the castle and so only caught up to Amaliji here at the door. I saw him cut down several guards with the Vorpal Blade as if they were so much ripe wheat. King Frederick unfortunately did not last much better as the Vorpal Blade easily sliced through sword and wrist.”

  Margret said: “But I heard you cut off Amaliji’s head.”

  Mage sighed. “I did, eventually, but before I did, the elf king opened the door to this room,” he said. “He had too great a head start for me to catch him any earlier.”

/>   Farling said: “But Amaliji’s bones were broken. Ah, I believe I know what happened.”

  “What?” cried Grum a little too loudly.

  Farling whispered: “Hush, Grum. You remember what happened to those assassins that tried to kill the Queen in the thieves guild?”

  “They were destroyed like flies under a hammer’s blow,” Grum’s voice just slightly quieter than before.

  “Do you notice a similarity?” asked Farling.

  Arastead interjected. “But the magic was to only be in the child,” he whispered. “The child is the Sorceress, the one to wield great magic. Was the queen somehow able to remember how to do magic?”

  Mage shook his head. “It appears the elf prophecy was only partially true,” he said. “A Sorceress was born, but it is not the child.”

  “Queen Astrid is the Sorceress,” exclaimed Farling.

  Mage nodded.

  “Strange times indeed,” continued Farling as he looked to Margret and could not decide if she was pleased or not that the child was not the Sorceress.

  “And Princess Margret,” said Mage, “I see your trip to the dwarf realm was successful.”

  After a brief pause, Margret said: “It was.” She held Gunghir Sister-Spear. “Apologies, Mage, my mind was elsewhere.”

  Mage nodded. “I think this recent turn of events is all rather distracting,” he said.

  Arastead said: “I am a little surprised the guards are allowing weapons in this room.”

  “They are worried another elf may show,” said Mage, “and so are lax in certain rules regarding weapons.”

  “Well, I think we will be off,” said Farling. “It appears everything here is under control, and we need not fear another elf appearing.”

  “I will stay,” said Mage.

  “As you please,” said Margret.

  Mage looked surprised. “Will you not stay, princess?” he asked. “I feel the queen would enjoy your presence.”

  Margret hesitated. “Another time,” she said. “She needs rest.”

  “Of course,” said Mage reservedly. “And what of Amaliji’s sword?”

  Grum cried: “Why, is it up for grabs?”

  The pearl in Margret’s circlet glowed. “It is, but I see it is King Frederick who wields it in both hands,” said Margret.

  “But his hand was—” started Grum.

  “I know, blacksmith,” interrupted Margret and Grum looked hurt at being named by his title. “Sihr, is the king’s hand here?”

  Sihr nodded. “I believe it is,” he said. “One of the house maids hid it in a box, but soon it will begin to putrefy and will need to be burnt or buried.”

  “Then we have no time to lose. Phillius!” she snapped and the king’s secretary stiffened to attention. “Find an empty room nearby and bring your king and the box that holds his hand to me. Sihr, you are with me. Everyone else,” and her gaze roved over the blacksmiths and Mage, “leave me and the priest alone. We must not be disturbed.”

  CHAPTER 54

  The Vorpal Blade

  King Frederick was still pale even though Sihr had relieved him of most of his pain.

  “Princess Margret, Priest Sihr,” began Frederick, “I should be with my wife and child.”

  “Nonsense,” said Margret. “You need to be king and for that, you need your sword hand if you are to wield the Vorpal Blade. As well, I want you to pick up your child with both hands, not awkwardly with just one.”

  Frederick shook his head. “While I know you see the future, princess, I never heard of anyone having his hand reattached,” he said.

  “Your loss of hand was due to a blade, but it was a blade of magic,” said Margret. “If your hand had been crushed, or severed by an ordinary blade, we may not have saved it or reattached it. Or we could have healed it, but it would have remained maimed, a stump. And we need your hand back to normal. You have a role to play in the Tapestry and that means you need both hands. But we waste time. Sihr, bring me the king’s severed hand.”

  While Sihr opened the box that held the king’s severed hand, Margret expertly drew a rune on the floor with her spear.

  “It is a rune of healing,” she explained once she was done.

  As Sihr sat down, he said: “I have never seen that rune before.”

  “Let me just say that during my time at the School,” she said knowingly at Sihr, clearing her throat, “that my mind was taught new things. And one of those included visions of Yggdrasil, which is covered in runes, the runes we need for healing. Now, let us all sit in the rune on the floor. King Frederick, please hold your severed hand to your wrist. We do not have Nas here to walk us through the healing, so I will take charge. Sihr, let us both place one hand on Freya’s staff, and the other hand on Frederick’s arm just above the injury.”

  “First,” she continued, “we must undo the magic of the Vorpal Blade for it still binds the severed hand and wrist and prevents any reattachment. The magic of the blade is like a dense blanket, one we must unravel thread by thread. And once we finish, we must act with haste to reattach the hand, as it and the wrist will bleed as if freshly cut.”

  “Now,” she said, “everyone, close your eyes, and slow your breathing. Sihr, concentrate on healing King Frederick as once I unravel the magic of the Vorpal Blade, he will feel the cut all over again. King Frederick, you must stay calm throughout as best you can. This will work, of that I am confident, it will just take time and patience.”

  “For someone so young,” began Frederick, “you know how to order a king around.”

  Margret allowed herself a quick wry smile. “There are some advantages to being the daughter of a king,” she said.

  Then, for several hours, as sweat beaded and streamed down everyone’s faces, soaking their clothing, the meticulous process of undoing the magic of the Vorpal Blade and reattaching the sinew, muscle, bones, cartilage, veins, and arteries began. At times, it was if the pearl in Margret’s circle glowed so bright as to hurt Sihr’s eyes, even though his eyes were closed tightly. As well, Sihr felt as if his bones were hot and his blood boiled as the magic passed through Yggdrasil, through his staff, through his body, and into the bones and blood of Frederick.

  And just when Sihr felt he could take it no longer, Margret let go of his hand, breaking the connection. Sihr gasped in surprise and collapsed to the ground. But he rose quickly to one elbow to stare at Frederick’s hand to see if all the magic had worked.

  Sihr grunted loudly. The floor was covered in blood and covered his clothing, Margret’s, and Frederick’s as well. It had been as Margret said, that once the magic of the Vorpal Blade had been undone, because both wounds had been cauterized with magic, once that magic was gone, it was as if hand and wrist had been newly severed, and so the blood had flowed. It had been stopped in time, obviously he chided himself, as Frederick still sat propped up awkwardly, his eyes wide and awake, his face though a worrying pale.

  Sihr’s eyes slowly moved down Frederick’s arm and he croaked a cheer when he saw the pink hand, the fingers twitching.

  Fredericks’ eyes were wide in wonderment as he pulled his hand close to his face. He flexed his hand, curled his fingers, and moved his hand around to admire it from all sides.

  He whispered: “I do not believe it. My hand, it works. My thanks, Princess Margret, Priest Sihr. For it was you two who saved my wife from the poison of the Draugr. Now it is you two again who have saved me. My kingdom is eternally grateful to you both. Ask of me anything, and it will be granted.”

  Exhausted and pale, Margret still was strong enough to speak, said: “At some point in the near future, you will need to protect your queen. Even if it is I who attacks her, you must always protect your queen. Even if it is the Norns who attack her, you must defend her.”

  And Frederick’s eyes narrowed in thought, worried now even more about future events and how they would affect his wife and child.

  CHAPTER 55

  A Meal at the Thieves Guild

  “It is time we
visit Asgard,” said Margret to everyone assembled in the room. “I suspect you were-beasts would like to accompany me and the blacksmiths.”

  “We would,” said Liulfr, speaking on behalf of the were-beasts as he always did, “as we must always be at your side to ensure your safety.”

  Grum grunted. “She will be fine if the blacksmiths are around,” he said.

  The were-beasts growled in protest.

  Margret raised her hands, said: “Having more bodyguards is always a good idea,” wanting to keep the peace.

  Liulfr said: “Princess, if I may ask, what business do you have in Asgard?”

  “In my hand I hold a spear, a very powerful spear,” said Margret. “But there is a more powerful spear to be found in Asgard, one I desire. This spear in my hand and the spear in Asgard are as sisters—one finds the other.”

  Beornheard rumbled in his bear-like voice: “You desire Gunghir, Odin’s fabled spear.”

  “I do,” said Margret.

  Liulfr said: “Do not any of the remaining Norse gods crave their father’s spear?”

  “Oh, I am sure they all do,” said Margret, “especially as their realm is under constant threat. But it sounds like Odin hid his spear so well that not even his children may find it. And few knew this is sister spear to Gunghir and what that means.”

  “If I may,” began Sihr, “I too would like to accompany you to Asgard.”

  Margret sighed happily. “I would be honored to have you with us,” she said.

  Grum slapped his belly. “Well, if I am hungry, I can only imagine everyone else is starving as well,” he said. “Where shall we go?”

  Margret said: “The thieves guild as I need to ask Pressan some questions.”

  Once the rather large group made their way down the roads and found the alley that led to the thieves guild entrance, they found it busy with people.