The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  In the great battle of Aashloff where the sky burned and crows gorged on corpses, the Midgard wizards performed the ultimate sacrifice, destroying themselves, forcing the elves back into Alfheim and sealing the gateway between the two realms behind the Unbreakable Barrier.

  Amalaja shook her head, her eyes focused on the impeding impact with the Hunt. The old stories were merely stories of failure and now the elves had failed again, but this time under her watch.

  She gritted her teeth. This charge will end with my death.

  Then she saw it, the horn that swung at the Master of the Hunt’s hip.

  And as he brought the horn to his lips to sound it once again, in one smooth flowing motion, Amalaja brought arrow to string.

  Magnus never saw the arrow as it sped towards him. His horn shattered and the magic that powered the Hunt ended.

  And the elves, freed of fear, cried in joyous excitement as they raised sword and spear and charged even faster.

  CHAPTER 78

  The Whispers of a Raven

  Margret watched anxiously from the walls of Vanaheim. Arastead, barely able to stand, leaned against the ramparts.

  A raven whispered in Galdr’s ear.

  “The Hunt has ended,” he said flatly.

  “No!” cried Margret. “We must help!”

  “I am too weak,” said Arastead. “I could not even hurt a fly.”

  “And if I come close to the Graydon Armor, I am useless,” said Sihr.

  Einar said: “A thief is not much use here.” His voice was bitter.

  Margret demanded: “Has Pressan found anything of use in the library?”

  Einar shrugged. “He is not here, so he must still be searching,” he said.

  Margret leveled her gaze at the three Norse gods. “What do you offer?” she said.

  Galdr sniffed. “They are warriors, all,” he said. “The halls of Valhalla are bereft of fallen warriors. The Valkyrie chose the fallen and will care for them for the next great battle where they will be needed.”

  Margret’s voice was full of disdain. Said: “We did not travel to Vanaheim to fill your halls.” Her voice softened. “Mage, what of your portals? How strong are they in this realm?”

  “What do you suggest, princess?” he asked.

  “One big portal under the Hunt. Bring them back here. This day, the Hall of Heroes remains silent. The Valkyries may watch, but will not choose.”

  As Margret spoke, an ogre approached. Said: “Frost giants march towards the walls of Vanaheim.”

  “The Hunt was to have returned before the frost giants attacked,” Margret said. “Farling and Grum have the weapons we need to repel Thrymr and his frost giants. Mage, I ask again: What can you do?”

  Mage grunted. Said: “The main courtyard here in Vanaheim is sufficiently large enough for me to create a portal that can capture everyone in the Hunt. The wolves and bears of Jotunheim will be left behind.”

  Galdr’s blind eyes stared at Mage as he said: “Perhaps this old Norse god may be of assistance. I will enhance your portal magical abilities, Mage, as portals in Asgard are tricky. Odin did not enjoy being surprised in his own realm and so portals are difficult to make and operate.”

  He continued: “The portal will not be open long. Even with my abilities, Mage will not be able to sustain a portal rune for long. They must make haste, else all is lost.”

  Margret’s voice brooked no dissent as she said: “Just get that portal open. And Freya, you must know of a healing spell that will revive Arastead. Work with Sihr, he will make it happen.”

  Freya nodded in agreement.

  Loki smirked. “Nothing of me, princess?” he said. “No order for me?”

  Margret voice dropped low in anger: “Did you not hear?” she hissed. “Your girlfriend, her brothers, and her father charge the walls of Vanaheim. You will defend the walls else we brand you traitor.”

  Loki’s smirk disappeared. “I love Thrymr’s daughter, but she knows I will defend Vanaheim against all attackers, even frost giants,” he said.

  “Good!” barked Margret, “then help the ogres drive back your girlfriend.”

  Loki walked away, mumbling profanities under his breath.

  CHAPTER 79

  The Library of Vanaheim

  Pressan wandered about the great library of Vanaheim. Surprisingly, while Asgard had fallen, and buildings had broken apart and landed in Midgard, some had remained, including the library, intact.

  Pressan wished there was a librarian for the great Vanaheim library, someone to help him find books. Still, he was not too sure what he was looking for.

  The Sorceress was a mystery to Pressan. Would there be any spell books that would be useful to the Sorceress? He chided himself. Why did he still think of Queen Astrid by her other title? Or would there be a book describing the Sorceress, a history of them from past ages.

  He wandered about the stacks, mesmerized by the sheer number of books. He walked around the desks where great tomes practically the size of his body lay closed. He was not even sure if he would be able to open those tomes as each cover looked to be the size of a door.

  He glanced at the designs on the covers of the tomes, hoping to get some sort of clue as to what was contained within each. Some of the cover designs astounded him they seemed so life like.

  The walls of the library shook, a loud booming noise reverberating through the room. Dust lifted in the air, caught in the light like small fireflies. Frost giants must be attacking, throwing boulders, trees, anything against the walls of Vanaheim. Pressan smiled. Only the elves with their magical siege weapons could have broken the walls of Vanaheim. Anything else would just bounce harmless off the charmed walls, imbued as they were with runes of protection.

  Then he saw an open book with an elaborate illustration that covered both pages. Compelled, he walked towards it for a closer look. The illustration was elaborate and Pressan had a difficult time focusing on the drawing. Then his breath hissed sharply through clenched teeth.

  In the illustration, three old women stood in the branches of a great tree, unquestionably Yggdrasil, unquestionably the Norns. As he stared at the drawing, it shifted and moved. An enchanted illustration, he knew, one that would animate when looked at.

  Yggdrasil spread its roots and its branches, connecting to the other realms, collecting, connecting, and pulling the realms into its control. The Midgard Serpent, small at first, gnawed Yggdrasil’s roots, and as the Midgard Serpent grew, Yggdrasil slowed the growth of its branches and roots, then stopped, same as the Midgard Serpent.

  In Asgard, Odin appeared and Pressan watched as in fast procession, he defeated the frost giants, banished them to their realm, and built Vanaheim.

  Then Odin stood on a great branch of Yggdrasil and he carved runes in Yggdrasil and the Midgard Serpent and Pressan knew that was how the magic of order and chaos seeped into all the Norse realms.

  Odin then carved a unique rune, the Sorceress rune, separately in both the Midgard Serpent and Yggdrasil. And Pressan somehow knew instinctively that only when the rune appeared in both Yggdrasil and the Midgard Serpent would the Sorceress appear.

  Pressan clapped a hand over his mouth. Time passed swiftly, and he watched as mountains broke ground, shouldered the sky, then tumbled into dust. Oceans rose, ate the ground, then retreated, leaving more land.

  But it was the Norns that held his attention. Every time the Sorceress appeared, the Norns lost one of their numbers for a short while, then were back once again at three.

  Pressan narrowed his eyes on the Norns, waiting for the Sorceress to appear again. He did not have to wait long. And as he had suspected, just before a Sorceress appeared, one of the Norns looked even older than he thought possible, almost stricken with age. He knew a Norn could be old, the nickname for the Norns was the Crones, but one Norn appeared crippled with age.

  And as the Sorceress gained strength, the Norn weakened. And when the Norn died, the Sorceress replaced her. Did I see that correctly?


  Of course, it made sense. He had always assumed the Norns were eternal, but they could not live forever. And he had assumed Odin had created the Sorceress as a way of managing the Norns, keeping the Norns in check by fear. But that was not the case.

  And now Odin was gone. And a Sorceress had not been so much born as created. Bathed in the magic of the Draugr, bathed in the magic of Yggdrasil, Queen Astrid had been made a Sorceress. In many ways, the natural order of things had been upset. The Sorceress rune had not appeared on the Midgard Serpent and on Yggdrasil at the same time as it had over the ages, yet a Sorceress had been born. Had Queen Astrid made the Sorceress rune appear?

  Impossible, but everything Pressan had witnessed since that black ship had appeared in the harbor of Trondheim, had at first seemed impossible then made possible. Characters from stories had appeared in flesh as if they had sprung to life from words off a page from a book in the thieves guild library.

  He was amazed his mind had not been blasted from the story he had just witnessed. But with the story had come hope, and so his mind clung to sanity.

  And here he now stood in the library of the fabled Vanaheim, the city of gods. He breathed deeply, feeling the tension release from his body, a little bit at a time.

  The animation in the book ended and he closed the book. Why he did not want any others to see the book, he could not have even guessed, perhaps it was his training as a thief, the power of having a secret.

  CHAPTER 80

  The Tip of the Spear

  Someone yelled Farling’s name, but he did not answer as his ears rang with bloodlust. The Master of the Hunt’s horn had been destroyed ending the Hunt. Farling had watched as the arrow streaked towards its target, destroying it, ending the magic that enabled the speed of the Hunt. And with the horn’s destruction, he and everyone else had slowed so suddenly they had stumbled to a full stop.

  Only the vast number of wolves and polar bears that streamed around them saved their lives.

  So, when the two armies clashed it was not sword and shield the elves faced but teeth and claws that tore flesh and rent armor.

  Even still, spears and arrows took a heavy toll on bear and wolf alike, blood splattering the ground.

  Protected by her guard, Amalaja stood in her stirrups to see above the fray, her horse rocked back and forth by the onslaught of the attack by wolf and bear. Seeing the remains of the Hunt, she cried to her guard, who redoubled their efforts and sunk arrow after arrow into the charging animals.

  Seeing an opening, the elf queen drove her horse forward as she hacked left and right at jaws that champed and bit.

  “Farling!” screamed Grum.

  Snapping out of his trance, Farling stared blankly at Grum.

  “Mage has opened a portal nearby for us!” yelled his friend.

  “What!” cried Farling.

  Grum cupped his hands around his mouth. Yelled: “A portal! Magnus knows where it is as Freya told him, in his head. They have that connection you know where they can talk in each other’s heads.”

  Farling stole a glance at the elves and felt his mouth go dry as he saw the elf queen inch towards them against seemingly impossible odds.

  “Show me!” cried Farling as he had no desire to fight the elf queen.

  Grum stepped backwards, one hand on Farling’s shoulder. “The portal is behind us,” yelled Grum. “Once the bears and wolves pass, it should open!”

  Farling blinked in acknowledgement, his shield raised. Now was the most desperate of moments in battle. He dared not turn and run else his back would face the elves and it would soon be filled with arrows. But he had to make his way away from the battle else the elves, once they had finished slaughtering bear and wolf, would fight him.

  The wolves and bears streamed around him, a constant force holding back the will of the elves. But the end of the animals could be seen. And as Farling noticed it, he glanced above the rim of his shield and saw the elf queen smile as she realized the same thing, and a more horrific smile he had never seen.

  “Retreat!” cried Magnus above the din.

  Everyone held their shields high, making their way backwards as quickly as possible, never allowing an opening for an elf arrow.

  With the animals lessening, the elves turned their arrows and spears towards the retreating group. Farling heard arrow after arrow slam against his shield and fall broken to the ground. He whispered a small prayer of thanks to the dwarf forges for the gift.

  Even though the ground Farling and the others had to cover to reach the portal was not far, it felt like an eternity as time slowed.

  And then the battle shifted. The elf cavalry charged through the openings, the queen at the front.

  Farling had no idea where the portal was and knew he must fight. “Spears and arrows splinter on my shield,” he cried aloud in a war cry. “Come fight a hero of Midgard!”

  “Taste my war hammer!” cried Grum as he too realized they must fight.

  “Hold fast, Dennlanders!” cried Cormac as he took a stand against the elves.

  “For Aarlund!” cried the Aarlund brothers as their shields crashed into the ground beside Farling’s and the were-beasts held tight their weapons while Magnus towered above all.

  Grum grinned at Farling. “Never thought we would fight elves,” he said.

  And Farling said: “Then let us have such a fight that bards will write songs of our heroics in battle!”

  The ground shook with the pounding of horse hooves as the elf cavalry thundered towards the small war party. The sound was deafening to Farling and he could feel the ground vibrate and hum.

  As Grum rose over Farling’s shield to swing his war hammer, Farling felt the familiar sensation of having his stomach twist.

  He clenched his teeth, fighting the nausea, trying not to retch on the ground.

  CHAPTER 81

  The Golden Apple

  Farling’s eyes snapped open.

  And he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Around him were the walls of Vanaheim. He looked down at the ground, the portal rune fading. He grinned at everyone and everyone smiled back, clapping each other on the back in congratulations, everyone relieved at not having to fight elves.

  Grum said: “I guess we will not be drinking mead served by Valkyries after all. A shame, as I have heard the mead is quite tasty.”

  Grum felt a punch on his shoulder as Arastead said: “But you must die before you can taste it. And today is not the day to taste Valkyrie mead.”

  Grum laughed. Then: “True, friend, true. And by the way, you call that a punch. I have had cats punch me harder.”

  Peg stood on Arastead’s shoulders and glared at Grum with her eldritch eyes.

  “No offense, Peg,” Grum said in quick apology, “I am sure you could knock quite the punch.”

  Mollified, she purred as Arastead rubbed her chin. “Sihr is making me a potion that should heal me,” he said. “Magnus, if you would be so kind, please remove and hide the Graydon Armor as it weakens me.”

  Magnus nodded. Said: “I will return, once I have hidden the Graydon Armor far behind layers of rock and stone.”

  “My thanks,” said Arastead.

  Farling sat down, exhausted. “I had no idea how close or far we were to the portal rune,” he said.

  Mage grunted. Then: “With the help of Galdr, I opened a portal rune directly under your group. It was not very stable, which is why you felt most ill.”

  “I am fine now,” said Farling. “To have almost fought the elf queen, I am glad we did not come to blows, as she would have ended me. What of the elves?”

  A raven whispered in Galdr’s ear. “The elf horses stamp the ground where the portal rune lay,” he said. “A most fortuitous escape I might add.”

  “Well, the elf army’s less a threat,” said Farling. “Their siege weapons destroyed, their ogre mercenaries gone. And the frost giants’ wolves and polar bears, controlled by Beornheard and Liulfr, destroyed many an elf. Will the elves see the futi
lity in continuing to fight?”

  Galdr said: “Difficult to know the heart and mind of the elf queen. We may only hope that soon she will realize her army is so weakened as to barely guard her own realm.”

  A crashing sound brought Farling to his feet.

  “Ah yes,” said Galdr, his blind eyes unseeing, a faint smile playing on his lips, “the frost giants attack.”

  Farling grunted. Said: “I will not be of much use, even with Flamebringer, bane of the frost giants as I am exhausted. I cannot lift my sword even if I tried.”

  “Drink this,” said Sihr, holding a draught that smoked ominously. “No need to worry. It contains just a drop of juice from a golden apple: The same apples that keep the Norse gods alive. I have been assured by Freya that this drink will cause no harm, but will instead invigorate you and help you fight, making you practically inexhaustible.”

  “I will try it first,” said Grum, “as I am most thirsty.”

  “Just a sip,” warned Sihr, worried at Grum’s ability to gulp down drinks.

  Grum wiped his mouth and passed the drink along. “Incredible.” He flexed his arms and jumped up and down. “I have the most energy I have ever had. I feel unstoppable.”

  Soon, everyone who had fought the elves had had a sip of the golden apple draught, and all acted much like Grum, happy and laughing, their exhaustion slipping off them like old cloaks.

  Freya said in a warning voice: “Do not be too eager for battle. The drink of the golden apple may shed exhaustion but does not make you invulnerable.”

  “Yes, mother,” joked Grum. “Let us see how the ogres fare against the frost giants and see if they need our help. Else we check in with the dwarves.”

  “No need to worry about the dwarves,” said Mage knowingly. “They will not attack Vanaheim any time soon, at least, not under the ground. There will be no dwarf tunnels undermining the walls of Vanaheim. I brought in friends who are expert at digging and counter-mining techniques.”