The Angry Ghost and Other Stories

by Peter Spokes

  It was Heimdall the watchman and guardian of Ásgarðr, that was sending out the call. It was said that he could see for hundreds of miles and hear the grass growing; such was the level of his sensibility.

  I was the youngest of Odin’s offspring and felt much sadness in leaving the comforting forests of my realm.

  I waved to the sad visage of my mother and rode with all haste towards the place where the final battle was to be fought.

  The Plains of Vígríðr.

  As I rode forth, darkness descended and I realised – as foretold by the Völva Seer Heiðr – Sköll the giant wolf-like Vargr was eating the sun, and his brother Hati Hróðvitnisson devouring the moon.

  Finally, I reached the Plains of Vígríðr where several of my brothers were already in attendance. I watched Thor swinging his mighty hammer Mjölnir, while Týr and Freyr simply sat and gazed out across the plain.

  They smiled or waved over to me but it was Thor who came over. He slapped my back surprisingly hard.

  I looked at him questioning.

  “Brother,” he started. “It is here!” he said cheerfully.

  “But so many are to die… the end of the Lords,” I said, “and I’m… not feeling good about it.”

  Thor and I had always been close. Perhaps because of his protective nature considering his immense strength in combat and my lack of interest in said action. Also, he was the oldest while – as already mentioned – I was the youngest.

  He smiled and grasped the back of my neck too roughly and gave it a shake.

  “But living; dying; it’s of no import. It’s all down to the fight,” he said; “the strength in one’s arm to do unto the adversary as much as can be done before ceding to death,” he said.

  “But you and Father are warriors. I don’t have the same… passion,” I protested quietly.

  Thor smiled. “Do not worry…” He paused for a time. “Your… fight will be the greatest of all… for you are… ‘vengeance’.”

  “So said the Seer … the vengeance bit that is…” I said.

  He paused. “You know the Seers; I can’t talk about it.”

  I waited but nothing more was forthcoming. I knew the words of the Seer were for the recipient only, but I could tell from Thor’s eyes that he had more words but would not speak them.

  I understood for if certain futures are revealed then persons may act differently and sometimes bad things are destined to happen despite the apparent loss inherent.

  Then I heard the Gjallarhorn once again and we both looked over as Heimdall hove into view on his mount Gulltoppr. He slung the Gjallarhorn over his shoulder and drew Hfuð from its svärdsskida.

  But then my father, Odin, on his favourite mount, the eight-legged Sleipnir, hove into view.

  We all stood and saluted in exaltation.

  “My sons; each prepare thyself,” the Lord Odin said, looking at us proudly.

  Since my birth, my father has had barely any connection whether verbally or otherwise with me; but then he had sired a ‘copious’ number of offspring.

  I was always a little jealous of Thor for his fighting strength and acumen. He had always been the favourite but then he was the firstborn and strongest.

  I was more than a little surprised therefore, when my father stopped his perusing and stared at me for some considerable time.

  He looked as if he were seeing me for the first time, and that realisation appeared etched on his lordly countenance.

  Then he dismounted and walked over to me as the others looked on in reverence, before putting his hand onto my shoulder.

  I could have wept with pride. My father, the Lord of Lords displaying such approval; though I knew not why.

  “Stay close,” he said simply as for several moments he stared at me and gripped my shoulder tightly. It was clear that he wanted to say more, but he turned and mounted Sleipnir. Then he raised his mighty spear Gungnir, to the armies of the Aesir, the Vanir, and the Einherjar, where their response of salutation rendered the mountains.

  Thor was walking to his horse when he clapped me on the back.

  “Brother?” I said confused, “I deserve no such accolade…” I said.

  He paused. “You will…” he whispered nodding, “you will…”

  We readied ourselves.

  Scene 3: The Portent

  The light was almost no more and I could barely see the mane of my horse.

  My mount – not unlike the others – was kicking her hooves in anticipation and impatience; her excitement no less than theirs.

  I looked over at the smiling face of my brother, Týr, who rode beside me; he was holding the reins in the crook of his right arm having lost his right hand long ago.

  I strained to see the shadows and silhouettes of the Einherjar armies of the Aesir and Vanir. Though I could barely see them, I knew hundreds of thousands stood ready against the Jötnar Ice and Fire Giants and the beasts of Loki.

  I smiled at their anticipation of the last battle and their participation in it. They were eager for its commencement. I heard shouts of excitement and ardent calls drifting across the otherwise silent plain of Vígríðr.

  I watched the mounts rear and kick in their excitement.

  The svärds and spjuts of the Einherjar were sharp, and their skjolds sturdy; they were strong and with courage unfaltering.

  I felt proud and a little surprised by my own sudden enthusiasm for the fight.

  After all, as well as the considerable might of the Lords of the Aesir and Vanir, we had the Einherjar – chosen warriors taken from the battlefields by the Valkyrja Shield Maidens to my father’s hall of the heroes – Valhöll.

  For unknown lifetimes, they had trained and dined in the great hall and prepared for this moment.

  But though much was prophesied, it still came suddenly.

  First there was the Fimbulvetr, the winter of winters – three winters without summers. Then Sköll and Hati Hróðvitnisson brought the darkness and the sun and stars vanished.

  If there was any doubt, it was soon dispelled by the crowing of the birds.

  First Fjalar crowed to the Jötnar Frost Giants in their icy lands of Jötunheim; and the Jötnar Fire Giants in their blazing realm of Muspelheim. Then Gullinkambi called to the Lords of the Aesir and Vanir, and then the Red Bird of Hel cried out to announce the time for the rising of those of the grave.

  Heimdall the watchman and guardian of Ásgarðr, spied a vast army of giants approaching the stronghold. He sounded his great horn Gjallarhorn to alert the Einherjar and the Lords to prepare.

  It was this last call that we answered.

  Some giants came by sea in the ship Naglfar helmed by the great deceiver himself, Loki having broken from his bonds.

  There was a sudden flash of lightning and for the briefest moment I saw my father, the Lord of Lords Odin, and my brother Thor, up on the hill. I was not the only one to spy them for there was a sudden roar from the armies of the Einherjar that shook the very hills, and svärds and spjuts were once again thrust aloft in salutation and tribute.

  My brother Thor and the Völva Seer Heiðr had said that I was ‘vengeance’ but I seriously felt they had misinterpreted something.

  Though exceptionally strong in body, I held little acumen as a wielder of weapons and so had no weapon of worth or naming as my brothers did.

  I was not a fighter and envied all my brothers’ heroic standing. I was one of the so many offspring sired by my father but had always held a strong desire that in some way I might be special.

  I looked at the Einherjar; every one of them was special – a hero.

  This would be the battle of battles. No one on this plain would have uncertainty or suffer ice in his heart. The Valkyrja Shield Maidens had spent much time on the battlefields searching out those dead warriors that would benefit the Lords at Ragnarøkkr.


  I looked on proudly in the knowledge that all would fight true of heart and deal damage to the enemy before their bodies succumbed – weapon still in hand – to the conflict; and die proudly and prove their legitimacy in having spent their time in the vast halls of Valhöll.

  Scene 4: Ragnarøkkr

  Ragnarøkkr began.

  Heimdall’s Gjallarhorn sounded again heralding the start of the end and I looked out across the vast plains for the enemy.

  First there appeared in the distance a mighty wall of sand and dust. Then we could see movement within and then the wind died down and we saw the Jötnar Giants and beasts of Loki.

  We shook the reigns and kicked our mount’s flanks, not that it was needed for the horses leaped forwards and like a vast tidal wave, the armies of the Einherjar roared their excitement and commitment and svärds raised – as much in salutation as assault – we, the armies of the Aesir and Vanir, thundered, hundreds of thousands strong, onto the plains of Vígríðr and smote the wall of Loki’s Jötnar monsters.

  The Jötnar Giants swept their enormous talons across the plain throwing both rider and horse into the air to drop broken.

  I saw horse and rider picked up and hurled this way and that, as the giants made their way through our armies.

  We hacked, sliced and speared at the enemy gaining some ground before losing it again.

  I was unaware if the time passed in months, years or centuries, but Loki’s hordes continued to clash against the armies of my father, Odin, but the Einherjar were not to be routed and fought on with a passion and strength that only Vikings could.

  As my father had ordered, I did not distance myself too far from him and allowed myself an occasional glance.

  It was on one such glance that I saw both my father, Odin, and my brother, Thor, looking over to their left. I followed their gaze and I thought my courage and fortitude might fail me, for I stared aghast as two giant leviathans hove into view.

  The giant wolf Fenrir – head low – moved slowly, one paw at a time – towards my father.

  I had only heard of Fenrir in legend and stories told to scare us as children. He was considered a God among his kind, as Odin was to us.

  He was possibly our strongest adversary, but then Odin was our strongest Lord.

  He reached my father and lowered his head down to him in acknowledgement as my father raised Gungnir in similar salute.

  Then Fenrir bared his considerable teeth and he snarled. It was as if thunder was echoing across the plains and many broke from battle to look, or fell from their horses such was the earth shaken – and some looked close to despair.

  I looked over at my brother, Thor, looking up high above him at the triangular head of an impossibly large serpent; its coils slithering across the vast desert and lost in the dark distance, while its dead white unblinking eyes simply stared at my brother.

  It was the Midgard Serpent Jörmungandr, and I watched as my brother – still smiling – began to slowly swing Mjölnir.

  With unbridled pride, I watched my father wielding Gungnir, charging forward on Sleipnir, as Fenrir snarled and thrust his enormous slavering jaws forward, while Thor’s horse reared and the hammer Mjölnir was raised high above his head and dashed down onto the massive wedged head of Jörmungandr.

  I returned to the battle as more Jötunn tried to thrust their way through the Einherjar vanguard that struck at their legs and tendons.

  I noticed Týr distracted and followed his gaze. A large bloodstained hound was attempting to creep unnoticed towards him. I recognised it as Garmr, the creature that had taken Týr’s hand, a long time ago.

  Garmr, the hound from the gates of Hel, clearly wanted to finish off what it had begun so long ago; while I saw from the look on his face, Týr was keen on restitution.

  They met and clashed in savage fury.

  Scene 5: Thor

  Time was uncertain but we fought and I once again looked around me.

  My father looked tired but still fought Fenrir with every muscle and sinew.

  I looked over at my brother. The serpent Jörmungandr had Thor in its coils and I could see them tightening, but my brother was too strong and he was wielding Mjölnir with such force and power that lightning flashed from each impact.

  The wolf Fenrir and my father fought for an endless time before – in horror – I saw my father – looking tired – look over to me and smile. It was then that the wolf’s maw opened and engulfed my father.

  Without thought but with an unquenchable anger, I left the field and ran forwards before looking up into the triumphant jaws of Fenrir, its maw bloody and salivating.

  He raised his head and howled in elation.

  The earth shook in his celebration.

  Throwing down my sword I opened my arms wide in invite.

  “Come to me, Fenrir, and know your nemesis!” I shouted, incensed.

  Fenrir raised his massive head before thrusting it forward with surprising swiftness.

  Rather than step backward, I quickly stepped forward and trod down hard on to his lower jaw and with all my strength raised my arms to his massive upper jaw and began pushing upwards. I felt my muscles cracking as the wolf started to bring its massive jaws together.

  I would not let it happen and continued to push upwards.

  After a period of time, possibly measured in years or centuries, and with both my arms raised above my head – I felt the giant wolf weakening and it was then that I was able to straighten my legs and push his upper jaw higher above my head until I heard the breaking of bones. I was suddenly awash with blood as Fenrir’s jaws broke open and it was then that I reached over and grasped Gungnir – my father’s fallen spear – and thrust it deep into the beast’s heart.

  For a long while I stood taking in deep breaths before noticing my brother, Thor, walking slowly towards me; he was dragging the bloody hammer Mjölnir loosely by its noose in his fist. I saw the Midgard Serpent, Jörmungandr behind him dead, its head upturned and bloody.

  Overjoyed I ran over to him.

  “Brother,” he started, “I told you that you were vengeance…”

  “And you killed Jörmungandr,” I said smiling.

  He laughed. “What a battle!” he said his eyes shining, “I would not have missed it for the world…”

  But then he dropped to his knees. I knelt and held onto him. “Though I have caused the serpent’s ruin, his fangs held much… fire,” he said before leaning heavily against me. He smiled again, “… I have nothing to lament, brother.”

  Then – as I held him – my brother, Thor – died.

  I looked up and was suddenly hit by the sudden silence.

  Gently, I lay the Lord of Thunder down and stood up.

  I looked across the red plains of Vígríðr. Nothing moved.

  I saw my brother Týr and Garmr dead, one beside the other in death’s embrace.

  I heard a sound behind me and looked over to see Váli, tired and bloody.

  “Höðr is slain,” he whispered, referring to the Lord that had killed our brother, Baldr; his chest was heaving and blood ran down his torso.

  As I walked further I saw the giant Jötunn Surtr and the Lord Freyr lying close beside one another, their shared and intimate conflict over; the prophesy replete.

  They both appeared relaxed and content in death.

  I listened in hope that I might hear the Gjallarhorn but the silence remained absolute.

  It was a long while before I found the body of Heimdall. Close by was the corpse of Loki, the enemy’s Lord.

  Scene 6: Brave New World

  I looked down the hill and spied… creatures; they were not Lords, Demons, Einherjar or anything ‘usual’.

  Through pain I smiled. These must be the first humans, Lif and Lifthrasir, who will start the world again.

  Terminus

 
Scene 1: No Waiting

  Quickly, I snatched the ticket from the machine and hastened to the steps running down them two at a time as fast as my portly aspect would allow.

  I reached the bottom just as the end of a last carriage disappeared into the tunnel at the far end of the platform.

  Bugger! but then I checked myself; what’s the hurry? I thought; I had spent a lifetime rushing from one place to another, but now it wasn’t necessary, and so I took a few deep breaths – as my doctor had always told me to do – and forced an amble along the platform to await the next train.

  After ten minutes of looking from the concave white-tiled walls to the tunnel entrance, I started wandering further along the platform. I was surprised how devoid of advertisements the walls appeared.

  There was none of the tobacco posters warning of the dangers of smoking while advertising them nonetheless; or the latest unmissable blockbuster to grace our multiplex cinemas imminently.

  Oddly though, there were pictures – or rather portraits.

  The subjects too were of rather an eclectic mix. I saw Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, several ex-members of parliament and an ex-DJ and TV celebrity.

  As I wandered further I noticed – in prominent text – a sign which as I approached I read, ‘No Waiting’.

  Odd, I thought; this isn’t a car park or the front of some airport terminal. In fact, a train platform was a location that one could generally rely on as a place for ‘waiting’.

  I was just trying to understand if there was an alternative meaning when I heard a polite cough behind me and I turned to see a smartly dressed guard.

  “Excuse me, sir, but you really shouldn’t be here,” he said with an air of some concern, and pointing a finger at the sign.

  “I… err… missed the last one; when’s the next?” I said.

  The guard stared at me for several seconds.

  “The next one will be through in about” – he consulted an iPad – “one hour and forty-three minutes… but you shouldn’t be here.”