Peculiar.
Smiling grimly, Njord let his power rise. The sea answered his call, sending waves crashing up from the shore, following the brook that connected the bog and the open sea. A hissing explosion of steam erupted where salt water met foul marsh, and the ancient dead howled their outrage at the violation of their resting place.
Njord moved in tune with the forces of nature, each blow of his ax precise and deadly. His weapon sang with the roar of the waves, sending the bog dwellers to their last resting place. The corrupted farmhouse groaned and creaked as seawater flooded around its foundations, washing away the illseiðrclinging to it.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Thori watching him. Sure, his captive had seen him fight before, but this was different. This was Njord in his element, dispensing death with the relentless force of the tides themselves. And Thori seemed mesmerized by the display of raw power.
Njord found himself showing off just a little, adding flourishes to his blows that were more aesthetic than necessary. One after the other, the bog creatures fell to his ax. But then the armored bog warrior was upon them, faster than Njord had anticipated. It lunged at Thori, its twisted claws extended.
Without thinking, Njord threw himself between them, his ax rising to meet the creature’s strike. Bronze scraped against steel in a shower of sparks as Njord hit the creature’s armor on a backhand strike. But the ancient warrior wasn’t slowed down. It hurled its large body at him, pushing Njord backward, his boots sliding on the wet ground.
But Njord wouldn’t budge; he wouldn’t let this wretched thing get to Thori. Roaring to the sea, he let a wave of saltwater crash down on his opponent.
The creature screamed, its blackened skin foaming where the seawater touched it.
Exploiting the moment of distraction, Njord cut its head from the shoulders with a heavy strike.
Thedraugr’sscreech ended abruptly as it crumbled to the ground, finally nothing more than a body of charred black flesh.
Njord could sense the corruptedseiðrdispersing now that the largest of its creatures lay slain at his feet. Still, he shouldn’t let his guard down. There could be more of these creatures lurking in the bog. But against his better judgment, his gaze was drawn toward Thori, an overwhelming need to see his reaction overriding his common sense.
His thrall was staring at him with an expression Njord couldn’t quite read.
Surprise? Certainly.
Grudging respect? Perhaps.
But there was also something else, something that made heat coil in Njord’s belly despite the circumstances. Thori’s lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and there was a flush to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold marsh air.
“Well,” Thori said finally, his voice slightly hoarse. “That was, umm…impressive.”
Njord basked in a ridiculous surge of pride at the reluctant praise.
“I’ve had practice,” he said. “Centuries and centuries of practice.”
“Clearly,” Thori said, but something closed off in his face, his tone turning acidic. “Well, what’s this ancientseiðrthen? It should be familiar to you.”
“Huh?”
“Maybe you were even around when it was invented?”
“Watch your mouth, little thrall,” Njord snapped back.
What was Thori thinking? Silly Asgardian! Njord had merely stated the facts. He hadn’t been mocking Thori’s youth.
Grabbing him by the arm, he pulled Thori away from the cursed farmhouse and the immediate danger. With an impatient wave of his hand, Njord sent seawater cascading through the building, washing away the blood-stained altar and the carved symbols, cleansing the corruption that had taken root there.
The farmhouse groaned ominously as the supporting beams, weakened by rot and dark magic, finally gave way. With a satisfying crash, the building collapsed in on itself, taking the last traces of the dark shrine with it.
Skalmöld trudged toward them through the puddles, having returned from escorting Ingibjörg to safety.
“Was this destruction really necessary? Damn, my boots are wet.”
“The area needed to be cleansed properly,” Njord groused. “Better to let the sea reclaim it than risk the evil taking root.”
“All right. I suppose you’ve banished the bog dwellers for good.” Skalmöld smiled at him with a knowing expression. “Are we staying the night, or do you want to depart for Nóatún?”
“We’re going to set sail soon. But I want you to sketch what you remember of those runes, and I want to have words with Ingibjörg before we leave.”
