Viking Blood Axe Air Horns
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When we reached the beach, a few of us were still trying to keep pace with the others. We had left our horses behind on the island and they would not have made it far across this sand anyway; so when I saw how fast our friends were running toward their boats, I knew there was no way for me to keep up without tiring myself out completely or risking my life in some kind of fall.
So, instead, I stopped and watched them run into the sea from where I stood, which put me right at the edge of the water.
The waves were lapping over the rocks just below me as I stared down at the dark blue water rushing around the base of those giant rocks that formed the shoreline here. They looked like giants who had been carved by some god-like hand long ago.
A few birds flew past overhead while gulls cried out to one another from high above. It was peaceful, quiet…and beautiful. But most important of all, it was familiar. This place, this coast, was home. I could see it clearly now, even though I had never seen it before.
In fact, if I closed my eyes, I could almost feel its warmth under my feet, smell its salty air and hear the sound of the waves rolling in off the ocean. All these things combined allowed me to feel more relaxed than I ever had before.
There was something about this place that I loved; something that told me that everything would be okay. That I didn’t need to worry about anything. And that’s why I stayed there for quite a long time watching the boats until the last of our men had climbed aboard and were pulling away from the shore.
Then, after taking a moment to catch my breath, I walked along the edge of the cliff back to where I had first set foot on this land. When I finally arrived at the spot, I found a small cave hidden among the rocks that ran between two boulders. The opening of the cave was too narrow to crawl through but large enough to stand inside.
Inside, there were a number of stacked wooden crates, barrels, and other items that I recognized as belonging to our ship. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who had thought ahead and prepared for an emergency such as this. Now, I did what any good captain should do upon finding his ship. I locked the door behind me and took stock of my surroundings.
“It is a fine day indeed,” said a voice beside me. I turned to find a man leaning against the rock wall of the cave, looking out at the bay. His hair was dark brown and cut close to his head. He wore a red cloak with gold embroidery around the collar. He smiled at me as he spoke. “And you are?”
I smiled back, glad to know someone else was there. “My name is Sigurd. You can call me Sig.”
He chuckled. “As if that matters.” He pulled off his hood and showed me his face. “Well met, Sigurd. My name is Erik Bloodaxe. As you may already know, I’m the leader of our raiding party. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise. What brings you here? Or, better yet, why aren’t you with your men?”
His smile disappeared. “They’re dead, Sigurd. All of them.” He paused to let that sink in. Then he continued. “We lost everyone except four. Two died during the fight at the harbor. One drowned in the sea. Another went mad and killed himself. The fourth was attacked by some wolves while hunting.
He fought well and survived but has been badly injured. If he dies, we’ll lose five of our warriors. And then we will have no choice but to turn back and return home empty-handed. Which means we’ll have to pay taxes again next year. Not good. No good at all.”
The wind picked up and the sun shone brightly outside as we talked. “So, what happened here?” I asked him. “What caused all this destruction? Why do so many ships lie broken on the shores?”
Erik shrugged. “A storm came up and swept all the ships ashore. Even the ones that had been tied securely to the docks. We tried to get out to help those in trouble, but we couldn’t leave the safety of the caves. So, we waited for the storm to pass.
Finally, yesterday evening, we managed to sneak out onto the beach to check on our own ships and make sure there weren’t any survivors. Only then did we discover what had happened to all our comrades. We searched every vessel and found nothing.”
“But what about the bodies?”
“Bodies? Yes, they’re still lying on the beach. Many of them look as though they’ve been torn apart by wild animals.” He shook his head sadly and added, “I hate this part. Finding a corpse, knowing that the man or woman is gone forever.
I always wonder how much suffering the person must have endured before death claimed their life. How hard he struggled against his fate. Did they die peacefully? Were they tortured? Was there pain?”
I nodded. “Yes, I understand. But I think I might have an idea.” I reached into the pouch hanging from my belt and withdrew a handful of coins. “Look. These coins belonged to some merchants who lived near where we landed.
They left early in the morning in search of a trading post and never returned. I’d like to bury them here. Somewhere peaceful where their souls won’t be tormented anymore.” I tossed the coins down on the ground just inside the entrance of the cave.
“Good luck. Those fools are probably rotting in some ditch somewhere. Better they rot than be eaten alive by dogs.” He laughed loudly and slapped me on the shoulder. “Come on, let us go and see what we can salvage from the wreckage of these poor bastards’ lives.”
***
When we stepped outside, it appeared as though a terrible battle had taken place. Huge waves washed over the beaches, smashing boats together and dragging others far inland. There was blood everywhere: splattered across the sand and streaked along the rocky shoreline.
Men lay dead and dying; their heads missing. Their bodies were torn and shredded by the force of the surf. Others clung desperately to the side of a boat, trying not to drown, but unable to free themselves because they were bound hand and foot. A few even jumped overboard, hoping to swim to shore. But most sank beneath the waves and vanished without ever seeing land.
Rage surged through me, burning hot and bright. This was my fault, damn it! It was my plan to raid the island. It was my stupid plan to steal all this treasure. Now it seemed as if all my hopes and dreams would die with the rest of them. I knew what I had to do now. I had to find some way to save myself.
And then, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm, I heard voices. Three men stood nearby, talking quietly amongst themselves. I could barely hear their words, but I recognized one voice as belonging to Sigurd.
Other two I didn’t recognize them, but both looked familiar enough to me. One of them held something in his hands, but I couldn’t tell what it was until I saw him wave it in the air.
It was a sword, and it glinted in the sunlight.
***
As I drew closer to the three men, I realized that each wore the same red cloak that I had seen on Sigurd earlier in the day. I stopped within earshot of them.
“How does it feel to be betrayed, you fool!” I shouted at Sigurd’s face. “You told me I would come home rich as a king, but instead you’ve ruined everything. You should have known better. The gods know why you thought you could pull off such a ridiculous scheme.”
Sigurd stared back at me, looking surprised. Then he chuckled. “Ah, Ragnar, I’m sorry I doubted your ability to succeed. And you, you idiot. Didn’t you realize I wouldn’t give you all of the gold? What kind of idiot do you take me for? That wasn’t the point, you imbecile.”
He turned toward his friends and said, “These three fools believed I wanted them to kill all our enemies and steal all of this treasure. As long as they did exactly as I instructed, they would earn their share. Well, they failed miserably. Now they’ll pay dearly for their stupidity. Come on. We have work to do.”
The second man spoke up and said, “We should cut them down now and get this mess cleaned up. They’re useless, anyway. They’re too slow and clumsy to survive out here. Look at them. They don’t even have weapons. Can you imagine what they’ll eat when they run out of food?” His laugh echoed off the cliffs.
A third man interrupted the first and said, “No. Let’s wait until nightfall. If we attack them during the darkness, they’ll fight back harder. I want them to suffer.”
They continued to talk about me as I watched from the shadows. Finally, Sigurd turned away and walked slowly into the sea, carrying nothing more than a single piece of driftwood.
I sighed deeply. I felt like crying, but I forced myself not to. No sense in getting anyone else involved in my problems. I had to think fast. My only hope was to somehow turn the situation around. I needed help. And the best person I knew who might be able to help me was Thorir Herjolfsson.
But how was I going to contact him? I glanced around the beach, searching for any sign of a cave or shelter, but there was nothing. All the buildings were destroyed and gone. I had no idea where he lived. He never talked much about himself, and I hadn’t spent very much time with him since we left Iceland.
But I knew that if I found him, I’d convince him to help me. I just hoped I would see him before the other men did.
Then I noticed something moving near the water’s edge. It was small and dark against the gray rocks, so it took me a moment to spot it. It was a little girl, perhaps ten years old, standing motionless while she waited for the tide to rise again. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes fixed on something far off behind me. I couldn’t make out her features well enough to guess her age, though she appeared to be a young girl. A ghost child, maybe? Like the ones that were supposed to appear in the north every year.
My mind went numb with fear. Was she the reason these men came here today? Were they sent by someone to destroy us because they hated us so badly? Did they intend to burn the ship and all its passengers to death? Would I soon join them?
I swallowed hard and tried to force the lump out of my throat. How many people would die tonight? Hundreds, maybe thousands? Or worse yet, maybe I would be one of those dead bodies floating in the water tomorrow.
Suddenly, I remembered that the woman I loved still lived, somewhere close by. So I had to act quickly before anyone else got hurt. I stepped out of the shadows and approached the little girl.
She whirled around and gasped, “Oh! Are you a ghost, too?”
“Yes,” I answered truthfully. “And I need your help.”
Her expression changed instantly. Instead of screaming and running away, she smiled and pointed toward the sea. “Follow me. I can lead you to safety.”
With her words ringing in my ears, I followed her across the rocky ground toward the waves. When I reached the shore, she led me onto a low-lying island that jutted out of the ocean, beyond the reach of most waves. There was an opening in the cliff wall on top of the island, and she guided me through it.
The interior was dark, and damp, and smelled strongly of seaweed, which reminded me of home. In fact, the whole place seemed familiar somehow, as if I had been here before. I could hardly believe it. This is where the gods live.
When I looked around, I realized I was right. There were hundreds of tiny caves and tunnels carved into the stone walls. Each one was lit with a single torch that burned steadily atop a pedestal in each one, giving light to the entire place. Some of the caves had openings to the outside world, while others didn’t.
Most held a few pieces of furniture inside, some made of wood and iron. Many had beds and chests, some empty, others full. Others contained cooking pots and pans. One room, in particular, caught my eye, however, because it was completely bare except for a single item: a large wooden box set in the center of the floor.
It was big enough for three grown men to stand side by side, and it had two metal locks on the front, which were secured shut. The lid of the box was closed, but I saw that it was lined with soft leather strips and held a single keyhole at the bottom.
The little girl tugged at my sleeve and whispered, “You have to open the lock. That will allow you to leave this place and return to the world above.”
As she spoke, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the tunnel entrance. Several figures emerged and stopped short when they spotted me. They stared at me, their faces blank and lifeless. Their expressions remained unchanged even after I introduced myself.
“Who are you?” said the tallest figure. His voice was deep, and his hair and beard were both long and thick. He wore a cloak over a chain mail shirt and a helmet with horns attached to the sides.
“I’m Thorir Herjolfsson,” I answered. “I want to get back home, to Norway.”
He nodded slowly and gestured for me to follow him, saying, “Come with me. You must go now. Someone will come looking for you later.”
We walked along a winding path through the maze of tunnels until we arrived at a chamber in the very back. Its ceiling was high, and the only exit was a narrow door in the back that led to the outside world. As he opened the door, the man turned to say goodbye. “It’s good to see you again, Thorir. Don’t forget about me.” Then he disappeared.
The other men did not look surprised by his departure. I glanced behind me; there was no sign of any other exits. What was going on here? Had everyone already left? Or perhaps this was some sort of prison or penitentiary for criminals. If so, how could I escape?
Where did the guards come from anyway? I wondered. And what were these creatures who guarded the prisoners? They just stood there motionless like statues. Why weren’t they chasing me down? I had no choice. I had to flee while I still could.
Still holding the key in my hand, I stepped outside into the bright sunlight and ran off toward the beach. After several steps, though, I tripped over something and fell face-first to the sand. Before I could regain my senses, someone grabbed me and pulled me up by the arm.
I tried to pull free, but the grip was too strong. The person who had me pinned against the ground was tall, thin, and pale-skinned.
“What do you think you’re doing?” demanded the pale man, who was dressed in a white tunic and leggings. His skin was almost translucent, and his eyes were dark, almost black. He was much taller than me, and the muscles in his arms were visible beneath the sleeves of his tunic. He also wore a sword hanging from its scabbard on his belt.
I struggled to break free, but the man had an iron grip on my arm.
“Let me go!” I shouted, struggling harder. But it was useless. No matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t dislodge him. I thought of trying to bite his hand, but then I would be killed, and I had more important things to worry about. Like escaping.
Suddenly, I heard voices coming from somewhere ahead. A moment later, a group of people came running down the beach carrying spears and swords. Three men and three women, all armed with weapons and wearing helmets and armor, raced past us toward the cave.
Two of the men carried torches and another carried a sack, while the remaining woman was carrying a bag. The men stopped abruptly as soon as they saw me. All of them looked stunned, and I guessed it had nothing to do with seeing me standing there covered in blood and dirt.
“Run,” said one of the men. “They’ve been alerted to our presence. We can’t let them catch us.”
But the pale man shook his head. “There is nowhere else to run. This is where we belong.” He tightened his grip on my arm, and his fingers dug painfully into my flesh.
Two of the warriors drew closer to me. One of the men held his spear in front of him as if he might use it to strike me. The other raised his shield to block me should I try to attack. The third man knelt before me and lifted the edge of his helmet.
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t hurt him.”
My captor glared at him and asked, “Why? What do you care?”
“Because we’ll kill you once we take your heads.” He tapped the hilt of his dagger with his finger. “And we need your heads.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, my heart pounding out of my chest. It seemed impossible that anyone could be stupid enough to believe such nonsense. I had seen the sea and knew it wasn’t real.
One of the warriors laughed. “You have no idea what we know about you, Thorir Herjolfsson. Your death will serve a purpose.”
A chill ran through me. I felt paralyzed with fear. Was I really being threatened by men who believed in gods and spirits and magic? Were they right after all? Could this place truly exist beyond the veil of time? How many other men like me had fallen prey to their charms?
I had never even considered myself superstitious. Yet now I found myself thinking differently. Perhaps these people had lived thousands of years ago. Maybe they had sailed across the seas on ships made of wood, and the waves had driven them inland until they landed here.
Now they were returning to where they belonged. That’s why the pale man had called this island home. And I was lucky that fate had brought me here instead of them.
As my mind began to clear, I realized I needed to get away. If I didn’t leave soon, they’d probably cut my throat and throw me overboard. But how? I could not fight four warriors alone. Even two would prove difficult. There must be some way out of the cave.
The leader spoke again. “We don’t want to harm you, Thorir, or any of the others. You just need to tell us what you know about this land. Then we won’t harm you.”
That sounded promising. At least I wouldn’t die immediately. So I told him everything. Everything except for the fact that I was going back to find Odin and ask him to curse those who had stolen me.
When I finished, the pale man listened intently, and then nodded. “Very well, Thorir. I’m sorry, but we cannot allow you to return to the world of men. Our goal has always been to bring the rest of us back, and we cannot accomplish that without your help.”
“How long will it take you to sail to Asgard?” I asked, hoping to delay matters.
He smiled. “Not too long, and we will wait for you outside the entrance. When you come out, we will take your head so you can join the rest of us. Do you understand?”
I swallowed hard and tried not to look afraid. “Yes. As soon as possible.”
It was then that I noticed the second man holding the torch. His face was hidden beneath his helmet, but his eyes glinted in the light of the flames. I wondered which of these men would actually be leading the raid against my father’s hall. In that instant, I decided to make sure he died first.
With my sword still sheathed, I stepped forward and punched him in the gut. He grunted, doubling over. Without warning, I grabbed him by the hair, jerked up his helmet, and drove my fist into his face. He fell backward, dropping the torch. Flames roared to life around me.
“Thorir!” shouted my captor, pushing me aside. He thrust his hand into the fire, and when it came out covered in burning oil, he tossed it toward my feet.
I screamed as the searing heat scorched my ankles, and I dropped to the ground. My hands blistered from the heat, and my legs burned as the flames licked along the tops of my boots. But I did not cry out because the pain meant nothing compared to the terror of being caught helpless on the floor of a strange, dark cavern while four armed warriors watched. The flames were advancing, and if I stayed there much longer, I’d burn alive.
Scrambling to my feet, I reached down to grab the torch and pitchfork from the fire. With one hand, I beat out the flames; with the other, I fumbled for the weapon. One warrior moved to stand between me and the flame-covered wall. I kicked him off balance, and he tumbled into the fire.
Without hesitation, I struck another blow and sent him tumbling next to the other man. Both lay moaning in agony as smoke billowed from their wounds. Forcing myself to move slowly, I walked past them and headed deeper into the cave.
“Stop! We’ll kill you,” warned a third voice.
My muscles tensed, preparing for the attack, but I forced myself to stay calm. I held the torch high, ready to strike at any threat. I stopped near the center of the chamber, trying to decide what to do. I looked left and saw that the passage ahead curved to the right. It seemed like a dead end, but perhaps that was only because no light illuminated its far side. What if I could escape through it?
But before I could turn to see, someone grabbed my arm. I spun to find another figure standing beside me. A moment later, another set of hands grabbed me, and I knew I’d never escape. They dragged me away from the flames and pulled me behind the rock wall.
Then I heard a shout. “Kill the boy! Kill him now!”
They dragged me farther into the darkness until all I could see was the flickering orange glow of the flames. Soon, my vision blurred, and I feared I might lose consciousness. I felt an unfamiliar weight across my shoulders, and I gasped as it lifted.
Someone helped me to sit. The air suddenly grew colder, and I shivered in relief. I glanced around, searching for whoever had saved me.
“Who are you?” I called.
A deep voice answered, “You may call me Thrym.”
Thrym? That couldn’t be right. Wasn’t this a warlord named Thrynga? Perhaps Thrym was a different name in this place. I thought about asking him to explain things, but I was still shaking uncontrollably and didn’t have the strength.
“Are you injured?” asked Thrym.
“No. Why am I here?”
“To fight against your father. Your people are being killed, and you must stop it or our race will suffer defeat.”
So they knew my family was already fighting back, though why they hadn’t destroyed my home after they captured me, I did not know. And how could I expect to defeat such odds? I barely escaped, and even if I found my way back, there were more than three hundred enemy soldiers waiting for me.
Even if I somehow defeated them, there were two dozen others who had joined Thrym and had probably returned to Thorir’s hall to plan their next move.
And I wasn’t certain I wanted to leave Valhalla. I had been reborn as a wolf and loved every second of living as Fenrir. If I went back to Earth, would I ever feel that same joy again? Would I become just another human again, trapped inside this frail shell?
I shook my head. This was impossible. No matter where I turned, my fate appeared to lead to death. I had come so close to winning the battle and bringing peace to Asgard. Now, everything I worked for threatened to fall apart.
“What is your name?” Thrym asked.
He spoke Norse, which meant that I had to speak English since we were speaking in Valhalla. I wondered briefly what would happen if I refused to answer. Would he kill me? Or worse yet, make me fight against my own father?
I took a breath and prepared to lie, telling Thrym that I did not wish to talk about anything, including my family. Instead, I said, “Fenrir.” Then I added, “If you’re going to force me to fight, then let me go. You can use me however you want, and I’m sure I won’t enjoy it.”
That made Thrym laugh, and I realized the sound was familiar. His laughter reminded me of Loki’s, but stronger. It sounded like he was enjoying himself despite the seriousness of his mission. He stood up, and I followed suit. He motioned toward the tunnel. “Come along, and we shall take you to your father. But first, you need food and water.”
As Thrym led me into the tunnel, I tried to think of something clever to say, hoping I could convince him that I really didn’t want to fight my father. As much as I hated my life, I was determined to keep it. But before I could speak, Thrym said, “It’s too late for words. There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind. Come on!”
The End