The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  Muck slammed the butt of his weapon on the ground. Once the sound stopped reverberating, the room remained silent until he spoke. Said: “So tell me old Norse gods, why should ogres be your slaves?”

  Loki, his face flush, opened his mouth to speak but was stayed by Galdr’s hand.

  Galdr’s voice was calm. Said: “But you are free, Muck. You were freed from the enslavement of the elves. The shackles that bound you, that chaffed your wrists and ankles, those wounds will heal. But your thirst for revenge against the elves may only be slaked by the code of the ogre warrior. On the morrow, the elves attack these walls. You, Muck, may believe that if it is only ogres within these walls, somehow that will make you stronger. As if, somehow, by ownership of Vanaheim, that will make you fight for it, to defend it against all attackers. And I say to that: A death wish is not the way of the ogre warrior. An ogre warrior fights against superior odds not because he craves death, but because he craves life. You, ogre, do not wish to die. You are strong, and you wish to live. You fight to stay alive. And, if the elves try to end your life, try to steal the breath from your lips, try to stop your heart, try to pluck your eyes, then I say fight. I say fight with all your strength, with all your heart, with all your skills. And I say others will fight alongside you and your ogres as you fight to preserve freedom from the tyranny of elves. For the elves wish to enslave not just ogres, but the people of Midgard. And so you and the Midgardians have a common enemy, one that the ogres should not fight alone. For the elves will divide and conquer. Divided, the defenses of Vanaheim are weak. But if ogres and Midgardians fight together, elves may still win the day, but death will sup handsomely on the dead that pile up against Vanaheim’s walls.”

  Muck relaxed his shoulders and chuckled. “For an old blind Norse god, you speak truth,” he said.

  And like that, all the tension in the room was gone. Everyone relaxed and put away their weapons.

  Then Muck added: “But if we fight for you, blind god, what is in it for us?”

  “Asgard is a vast realm,” started Galdr, “healthy now with the return of me and my two siblings. You and your ogres could stake out a large part of Asgard, one with fertile ground, where crops grow easily, and livestock grows fat. And the old Norse gods and the ogres will look out for each other. For without us, the old Norse gods, Asgard withers like fruit on the vine. And without the ogres, Vanaheim’s walls are undefended. What say you, ogre?”

  Muck looked to the other ogres who all grunted in agreement. He last looked at Mage, who after a long pause, also nodded.

  “We have a deal,” said Muck, his huge hand engulfing Galdr’s in a firm handshake.

  ***

  As he had done with the were-beasts, Galdr outfitted the ogres with the sharpest swords, the thickest shields, the strongest plate armor.

  Wearing their new armor, the ogres bristled with intimidation.

  “Old gods, we defend your walls,” said Muck. “Elves, dwarves, and frost giants will crumble beneath our blows. We will chase everyone back to their realms, and we will set up guards at each gateway so that if they try and return, they will feel our wrath.”

  The ogres made their way up to the ramparts and took their positions so that when the sun rose, rays of light sparkled off the shine of the ogre’s armor, and all the attacking armies would know fear in their hearts as ogres guarded Vanaheim.

  “They really are big,” said Grum staring at the ogres. “I mean, Mage is big, but the ogre warriors are massive. And now that they are sheathed in metal, they impress even more.”

  Galdr cleared his throat. Said: “The elves may have lost their ogre army, but they were merely one weapon of many. The elves still have siege weapons, against which even the fearsome ogres are defenseless. Those siege weapons must be destroyed.”

  Loki chuckled. “I know you have a plan, brother,” he said. “Do share.”

  Galdr raised an eyebrow in mock objection, his milky blind eyes unseeing. “I always have plans,” he said more as a statement than a question.

  “And what of the dwarves?” asked Loki. “And do not pretend they will not attack. They may not be the first to attack, but they will wait for the opportune moment.”

  Galdr nodded. Said: “I have a plan for the dwarves as well, rest assured, brother. And it does not involve you kissing any dwarf princesses.”

  Freya and Magnus chuckled.

  Loki blushed. Then: “Unfair, brother, that was a long time ago. And besides, you know my heart now belongs to another.”

  Galdr nodded. “Yes, and now the realm of the frost giants wants to destroy Vanaheim,” he said. “You do have a way with the women in other Norse realms, that is, making the people of those want to tear down our walls.”

  “Brother, if I did not know better, I would think you are trying to be funny,” said Loki.

  Now it was Galdr that chuckled. “These are trying times and humor lightens the mood,” he said. Birds chirping interrupted him. Then: “Dawn approaches. Gather round while I share my plans.”

  CHAPTER 75

  Bears and Wolves

  Yorli woke with a start and rushed outside her tent. The sky was a pale blue, so she knew the battle had not yet started.

  A frost giant happened to be running by and she grabbed his arm. “Why do the bears and wolves howl?” she demanded.

  “Madness!” he shouted. “Bears and wolves alike broke their shackles, tore their fences, and now flee towards Vanaheim. They will be slaughtered.”

  Yorli cursed and threw the frost giant aside. From where she stood, she watched as hundreds of polar bears and wolves streamed towards Vanaheim like a river of white fur. What had made them panic and charge into battle?

  Her father and two brothers appeared.

  “They are out of control,” said one brother. “They were fine one moment then it was as if a rabbit had come into view and the bears and wolves tore free to chase it.”

  “It makes no sense,” said the other brother. “This has never happened before.”

  Their father’s face was a grim unreadable mask. The brothers knew it best to say nothing further and waited nervously for their sister to speak.

  Yorli shook her head in disgust. Said: “Our bears and wolves are gone. Like our golems, we have lost another weapon in our arsenal.”

  Thrymr cursed and struck one of his son’s ears. The son howled in protest.

  Yorli said: “It must be those were-beasts made by that cursed Alchemist. I see we are to be haunted by his children.”

  Thrymr grunted: “How so, daughter?”

  “One controls the thoughts of bears, the other, wolves,” she said.

  Thrymr struck his other son in anger. He now howled in protest.

  Yorli chided: “Striking my brothers will not help.”

  “Careful, daughter, else you too will taste my blows,” said Thrymr.

  Yorli’s face contorted in rage, then thundered: “Careful, father, for if you ever strike me like you strike my brothers, you will lose your hand! Or worse, your head!”

  She stormed off, barking orders, readying the frost giants for the assault on Vanaheim.

  Thrymr grunted in admiration. Then said to his bewildered sons: “And that is why you will never rule Jotunheim. It is only your sister who is strong enough to rule the realm of ice and snow.”

  CHAPTER 76

  The Return of the Hunt

  Farling stood outside a gate of Vanaheim and stared at the elf camp far off in the distance. With him were Grum, Frederick, the four Aarlund brothers, and Muck as he had felt an ogre should participate in the first fight against the elves.

  At the front of the group was Magnus, his large frame encased in the blood-red Graydon Armor, his fearsome two-handed sword strapped to his back, a new magical horn, remade by Galdr, in one hand.

  Farling unsheathed Flamebringer and stared at the blade. Why he was not fighting frost giants, he was not sure, but he did not question Galdr’s battle plan. Strange to be following the battle plans of
a blind Norse god.

  Grum gripped his war hammer tightly. His war hammer, Farling knew, would destroy any elf siege weapon. And Frederick’s Almuric Sword, Farling knew would only need to slash at a siege weapon to sever its threads of magic, destroying it as well.

  Magnus cleared his throat, then said: “When I sound my horn, it begins the Hunt, and everyone will be pulled behind me in my wake. Ready?”

  Farling grinned, wondering if the elves would recognize the Graydon Armor.

  Then, a great animal howl rent the air. And when Farling looked, his smile widened.

  It had been Galdr’s idea that Liulfr and Beornheard should steal the polar bears and wolves from the frost giants, depriving the frost giants of yet another weapon. And now, those same massive polar bears and wolves would follow Magnus, the Master of the Hunt, same as how his hounds followed him.

  The hundreds of polar bears and wolves skidded to a stop. Beornheard and Liulfr who had been running amongst the animals stepped to the front of the pack affectionately rubbing the heads of the nearest bears and wolves.

  Frederick shook their hands. Said: “Well done, Liulfr and Beornheard.”

  And the were-beasts, despite themselves, grinned shyly at the compliment from a king.

  “Now,” said Magnus as he raised the horn to his lips, “the elves shall know fear.”

  At the sound of the horn, the Master of the Hunt’s hounds appeared, excited to see their old master. Magnus pointed his sword at the elf camp and yelled something but Farling did not hear and did not care. All he thought of was the ensuing battle.

  Farling could feel the sound of the horn pouring into him, filling him with magic. His heart raced faster and faster until his ears hummed with the sound of his heart’s beat.

  Magnus leapt towards the elf camp and the Hunt surged behind him, running at supernatural speed. Farling remembered how this had felt before and joy surged through him once again as he felt drunk from the horn’s power. The landscape of Asgard blurred as he ran effortlessly at a speed he knew he could never attain on his own.

  Farling grinned at Grum who grinned back. Farling looked ahead to the elf camp and even from the great distance, he saw scouts rousing themselves to action, sounding their horns to alert the elf camp of imminent attack.

  Magnus sounded his horn again and the sound filled Farling and everyone with confidence while it filled the elves with fear.

  And as the Hunt met the first line of defense, where elves raised shield and sword, it crumpled, as the Hunt rolled over the elves like a massive tsunami wave.

  Farling felt no exhaustion only exhilaration as his sword arm rose and fell. Elves fell under his blade and were finished by the weight of the bears and wolves.

  Magnus steered the Hunt towards the siege weapons. Elves, not totally overcome by fear, showered the Hunt with arrows. But the speed of the Hunt defended everyone in it as the Hunt created a barrier of air strong enough to cause the arrows to stray and fall to the ground, useless.

  And when the Hunt reached the siege weapons, Cormac, Grum, and Muck struck at them with sword and war hammers, severing threads of magic, splintering wood.

  Wolves and polar bears ran through the destruction of the siege weapons scattering the pieces.

  CHAPTER 77

  The Wrath of the Elves

  From atop her horse, Queen Amalaja ground her teeth so hard blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.

  Her dream of ruling Asgard was now just that; a dream. Her prized siege weapons, the jewel of her attack against the despised Norse gods and their feeble walls lay shattered, useless, beyond repair. Her desire to avenge her husband’s death also now lay shattered. She watched the Hunt roll over her warriors and she tasted defeat.

  She spat on the ground. I am still elf-queen, warrior. She would destroy as many of her enemies as she could. But a thought nagged her from the darkness. At what point will this battle become our undoing? She had brought a great elf host to Asgard to secure Vanaheim and place her on the throne, thus ruling all the realms, even bringing the Norns to heel.

  And now, nothing.

  Her much vaunted elf warriors, born and bred to fight, had been overcome with fear from the magic of the Huntsman’s horn. And that wicked Huntsman had even worn Graydon Armor, neutralizing her sorcerers.

  Her gaze travelled over the plains to Vanaheim. She noticed the ogres standing on the walls and her anger boiled once again. Ogre Mage, that traitorous fiend. Had her husband not treated him well enough? They had even allowed him to keep those Midgardians as pets, giving him time to train them, to show the elves of the court how even after much training, those Midgardians would fall like ripe grain under the sharp sickle of the elves. They had been impressive in the arena against the troll king, but had fallen. And her husband, her beautiful husband, had dispatched the troll king as easily as killing a fly.

  And now those same Midgardians and that wicked Ogre Mage had ruined her plans of conquest.

  Her generals and attendants awaited her orders. The sound of the Hunt brought her back from her reverie.

  She stared down at her generals from the height of her horse.

  “We have been bested,” she said. Her voice was clear of animosity. “But we will still draw blood. These so-called Heroes of Midgard will know what it is like to feel the wrath of the elves.”

  And with a great war cry, she dug in her heels and thundered towards the Hunt, her army streaming behind in her wake.

  ***

  The Hunt broke free of the elf camp leaving behind dead and broken alike.

  The elf siege weapons lay destroyed, the walls of Vanaheim safe from destruction at the hands of the elves. And now the goal of the Hunt switched from destruction to survival as Farling realized they were quite far away from Vanaheim and from the safety of its walls.

  Magnus sounded the horn energizing everyone. But he had never led a Hunt of this size before. Now the Hunt numbered in the hundreds and turning such a large host was not as easy as it was to turn just him and his hounds.

  He led the Hunt in a great circular arc over the plains of Asgard. He knew these plains well, having spent much time in Asgard many years ago. And so, now he began the arduous process of slowly—even though they ran at great speed—turning the Hunt back towards Vanaheim.

  ***

  From the corner of his eye, Farling watched as the cloud of dust churned up by the hooves of the elf horses grew larger and larger as the elves came closer and closer.

  Farling yelled at Magnus, wanting to alert him to the situation, but Magnus had, of course, already noticed the elf charge. With a shrug of his shoulders, Magnus accepted the situation as if he had known all along that there would be a great fight between the Hunt and the elf army.

  Magnus motioned to Farling to take the lead with his shield. Farling had used his shield before to knock aside opponents but never on this scale, always against a stationary opponent, never against hundreds of horses that thundered towards him. Under his breath, he whispered a prayer of strength to Odin All Father, hoping that because he was in Asgard, his prayer would be granted.

  Glancing over his shield, he readied for impact.

  ***

  Queen Amalaja was the tip of the spear in the attack formation. Her warhorse moved swiftly towards the Hunt, and she found the rhythm of her horse’s hooves hypnotic, and so even though a battle was fast approaching, she found her mind wandered.

  She remembered stories told to her first by her parents, then by elf elders when she was destined to be queen. The queen was to know all stories, the stories of the elves, the stories of her people. For it was those stories that defined them, that made them elves.

  She remembered the story of how the elf prince was to marry one of the Aesir, one of the Norse gods. For hundreds of years, the elves had been the favorite of Odin. The dwarves had been mere workers, the frost giants enemies, the faeries a mere distraction, and the humans simply playthings.

  Odin had elevated the elves to a st
atus and a stature unbeknownst to other realms. For he wanted the elves to plunder distant realms outside of the nine realms and for them to do that, the elves needed to be powerful, almost god-like. Odin showered the elves with favors, showered them with weapons of magic, taught them over the centuries how to wield magic, how to pull magic from the Midgard Serpent and Yggdrasil. And over those many years, the elves did indeed become powerful, able to create portals to transport themselves from distant realm to distant realm. And always bringing back trinkets and treasure for Odin. For Odin had an insatiable hunger for treasure. He was a jealous All Father, who saw the other realms always as a potential enemy, always something to be feared. And Odin was vengeful, destroying anything and anyone who dared stand in his way.

  The elves had always known their part, played their role, been at the center of harm’s way, for they were the Chosen.

  But love cannot be chosen. And so, when an elf general and an Aesir Norse goddess fell in love, many tried to talk them out of it, to end it. But they would pretend to listen and, in the end, refused to stop their love for one another.

  And when Odin discovered the relationship, he stopped it and emptied the elf barracks in Asgard, the elf warriors ordered back to Alfheim.

  Devastated, the Aesir goddess refused to eat her much needed daily golden apple, and so withered and died.

  When the elf-general found out his love had ended her life, his fury knew no bounds. The elf king at the time was weak, and so the elf general organized a coup, and soon ruled Alfheim. With no way of returning to Asgard, the elf general knew Odin had a soft spot for the Midgardians. And so he ordered the elf-sorcerers to open the largest gateway they could between the realms of Midgard and Alfheim and the elf king poured his warriors through the magical door.

  It was the wizards of Midgard who fought back, those trained by Galdr, and so the battle turned into a war that lasted years. To weaken the Midgard wizards and destroy them once and for all, the elf sorcerers created Graydon Armor.