“I hope you weren’t thinking of orderingme,” murmured Gunnar as he drew his own sword.
Hakon laughed, feeling strangely light and giddy in the face of mortal danger. “You wouldn’t have listened anyway,” he said. Gunnar nodded.
The leading black-cloaked Skraelings were passing the deepest part of the ford, the water waist-deep. The narrow nature of the ford meant that they were a column only three warriors wide.
“For Odin!” bellowed Hakon.
“For Jomsburg!” shouted Gunnar.
For Sif,thought Hakon fleetingly as the brothers raced into the shallow waters of the ford, swords glinting in the splashing of their passage.
For a brief time, the two Vikings had the advantage, as the lead Skraelings were in deeper water and could not move as quickly. Two of their number were cut down swiftly by the flashing swords of the Brynnson brothers, and both Hakon and Gunnarpressed their attacks with a fierceness born of desperation. Skraelings tried to fan out in order to surround the pair but stepped into deeper water and were swept off their feet by the swift current of the Snoderan.
However, it was not long before the sheer weight of numbers began to tell on the Vikings, and step by hard fought step, they were forced to retreat. The shallower the water became, the more the Skraelings were able to widen their attack. It was clear that it would not be long before they were cut down by blows from the side or behind them. Hakon prepared to sing his death song.
Suddenly, there was a mighty booming sound, and the waters of the Snoderan rippled.
“Mine!”called a voice so deep as to be inhuman, and the Skraelings parted like twin waves as the creature that the brothers had seen cast the lightning spell charged through the ranks of the feral fighters. Close up, it was even more terrifying; too large to be human and too small to be a giant, its features concealed by the huge snarling boar skull. It had boar skins wrapped around its shoulders, chest, and arms, but they did not conceal the network of scars that crossed the creature’s body. It clearly was not human,though it stood upon two legs and spoke with a low, growling voice. It was a fell creature, straight from the sagas of Ragnarok. In its huge right hand, it grasped the shaft of a massive war hammer.
Hakon and Gunnar dropped their shields, knowing they would be useless against the heavy weapon. It was all they had time to do before the creature was upon them, the war hammer crashing down. Hakon hurled his body to the right, Gunnar to the left, as the hammer came down amidst an enormous spray of water. The pair struggled to their feet as quickly as they could.
They circled the creature warily. It seemed to sneer behind the boar skull mask as it gestured for the other Skraelings to keep back. Gunnar summoned his courage and lunged forwards in a feint. While the beast was distracted, Hakon snaked his blade at the creature’s ribs, scoring a red, bloody line along its side. The creature roared in anger and pain but also swung his free hand backwards in a deadly blow that Hakon barely managed to dodge. Gunnar took advantage of the moment to stab the beast in its leg.
Gunnar’s sword pierced the creature’s leg muscles, and it roared again. Unfortunately, Gunnar had to tug twice to free his blade from the creature’s thick thighand left himself open to a heavy blow from a massive fist. His legs buckled and he dropped to one knee, briefly stunned.
No! He’s wide open!
Hakon leapt in front of the creature to distract it, but the river bottom beneath him was uneven and slippery. He slipped on the treacherous footing and sprawled his length in knee-deep water. He tightened his grip on his sword, striving to rise as quickly as he could, knowing that he was at the creature’s mercy.
“Boys,” sneered the creature in its deep gravelly voice. Gurgling laughter came from deep within the creature’s massive, scarred chest. “Freyja fights me with boys.” It raised the war hammer above its head. Hakon looked up at his imminent death and spat at the creature in contempt.
“No, you stupid beast,” gasped Gunnar, rising to his feet, “Freyja fights you with love.”
Hakon cried out as the creature brought the war hammer down in a world-ending swing. Gunnar grinned and raised his hand to meet it, palm open.
There was a great flash of light, a sound like a thunderclap, and Hakon knew no more.
***
Jomsburg
Fourteen years ago
Young Gunnar tried to sleep but was finding it impossible because of the burning pain in his palm. He had been determined to be as calm as possible in front of everyone, but since he was alone in his bed, he allowed himself a few tears.
The girl he loved most in the world had hurt him, and hurt him badly. Gunnar had only been playing with Hakon, and perhaps he had gone a little far, but Sif had come in like an avenging Valkyrie and struck Gunnar a blow with magic.
Sif had been sorry, and scared. Gunnar had seen it in her face. But Gunnar had not seen what his boyish soul had ached to see: love. It was not to be. Sif’s love was for Hakon, just as Gunnar had always feared. It was as if something had broken in his chest, and that brought the tears truly flowing in a way that mere pain could not. Exhausted, his face wet with tears, he finally fell asleep.
When Gunnar opened his eyes, he knew that he was in a dream. Sometimes he could tell, and this was certainly one of those times. The land was not like his home outside of the Jomsburg, nor was it the greenfarmland of his foster parents outside of Visby. This land was wilder; the air was cleaner and clearer. He was standing in a meadow, and the only sounds were the buzzing of bees and the bubbling of a stream running through the grassy space.
Sitting at the edge of the stream, her feet in the clear water, was a woman. Gunnar gasped. The woman was even more beautiful than his mother or his foster mother. He must have gasped out loud, for the woman looked directly at him and smiled.
“Welcome, young Gunnar,” said the woman, giving him a dazzling smile. “Come here, to me.”
Briefly, Gunnar hesitated.
“There is nothing to fear,” said the beautiful woman. “Your hand is hurt. Come, and dip it in the waters of the stream.”
