CHAPTER 6: SIGRUN'S TALE

Sigrun Stormcaller

All the members of the Dragontooth hailed from the North and were warriors, except for one who was neither Norseman nor Viking—Sigrun. She was known only as Stormcaller among the crew due to her origins. Besides, she possessed a unique power attributed to her people, for she was one of the Wind-Sellers. As a Wind-Seller, Sigrun had the ability to control the winds, a power that was both feared and respected among the Norsemans.

When the Dragontooth stormed the Wind-Sellers' fortress, they did not just plunder wealth but also took people. The Wind-Sellers were renowned among the Norsemans for their abilities to control the winds, a power that could be devastating in battle. The Seller's power was feared, but despite this, they were defeated.

After the siege, the Norsemans acquired so many slaves that every ship in Ragnar's fleet received one Wind-Seller enslaved person. Sigrun was the Dragontooth's slave, but she proved her worth to the crew, showing that she was more than just her people's extraordinary power. Hence, she regained her freedom.

At least, that's what her companions told her. Sigrun still felt the cold metal of slavery on her wrists and neck. As long as she was on the ship, she could not forget this feeling because the Dragontooth felt like a prison to her.

Yet, she had grown quite fond of her Viking friends if their actions hadn't reminded her of the bitter day when she was captured. Friends or not, none of them could truly understand her. Perhaps only Ingrid, the völva, stood closer to her. Ingrid often asked her about her people's legends, as did Harald.

However, the emotions in Harald's and Ingrid's eyes were different when she recounted her people's myths. While Ingrid's eyes sparkled with joy and curiosity, Harald's gaze scrutinized, searching for any story that could provide fodder for a provocative joke. Sigrun realized this when she saw how Harald taunted his Christian opponents during one of their battles, a battle that was fierce and filled with tension. Since then, she has been more cautious about what she shares with Harald.

Sigrun's sharp blue eyes gazed at the moon. Its light illuminated the deck, where everyone was preparing for departure. They all appeared calm on the surface, but the tension was thick in the air, almost palpable. Their speech was strained, their hand movements clumsy. Only a few had managed to process their experiences. Some were still reeling from the terrible storm, others from the signs of Ragnarok, while some spoke of lost comrades or the dead they had not bid farewell to. How many of us set out for Paris? Sigrun wondered, her voice barely a whisper.

Fifty-one of us at the start, she answered herself. And now only twenty-four remained. Less than half of us are still alive. This thought saddened her, and she sought comfort among those on the deck.

Leif, the shipwright, meticulously checked every plank and rope, his hands slightly trembling as he worked. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a weathered face, his beard and hair streaked with gray. The thought of a dishonorable death haunted him, but he tried to hide his fear through meticulous work.

Olaf, the giant Viking, maintained his usual calm demeanor, but inside, he worried about the future. His strength had always been his shield, but even he felt the weight of the uncertainty ahead.

Sven, the youngest crew member, looked to the older Vikings for reassurance. His fear was palpable on his face, but he found solace in their presence and tried to emulate their resolve.

Futhark, the mysterious old man, rested in the shadows, his thoughts known only to him. He seemed unaffected by the chaos around him. His mind focused on some inner purpose.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Haakon, one of their most experienced warriors and a famous womanizer, now entertained the other sailors with stories of his conquests, though he, too, felt the tension inside.

The navigators, Gunnar and Freyja, huddled together to discuss the route. Their experience and knowledge were crucial, and they took their responsibility seriously.

Erik, the blacksmith, stood quietly, his hands folded over his chest. His calm presence and reassuring words had bolstered the crew's spirits, but he, too, felt the weight of the unknown.

The captain Helga had hidden her feelings well since Erik's speech. Few could see through her facade, and Sigrun was not among them.

She sensed in them that, although Erik and Helga had recently steadied the crew, something was still missing or lacking within them. When they heard about saving Odin, the Allfather of the Norse gods, they were simultaneously excited and frightened. According to the prophecy, every man and woman knew they had little time. Would they arrive in time to help Odin, and if so, could they do anything to prevent the impending doom of Ragnarok?

At that moment, Sigrun remembered her harsh words during Erik's speech. In her anger, she had condemned the Viking way of life and their constant thirst for battle. She had seen the pain and anger in her companions' eyes towards her, which filled her with guilt. She might not have liked what they were, but loved them as her companions. These people had become her new family, and she had betrayed them in a moment of weakness. The realization of her mistake filled her with a renewed determination to make amends and regain their trust.

Determined to make amends, Sigrun pondered how she could regain their trust. Then she overheard Gunnar, Helga, and Ingrid discussing their route to Mimir's well. The mention of their destination stirred a deep memory within her—a story from her people, a legend about fragments of a weapon that could summon wind or storms anywhere.

Stormcaller was indeed an apt name for those magical fragments. Fragments? Stones? The rocks in the storm! Sigrun was astonished that she hadn't thought of it before. Among those rocks, there was one that seemed to stir the wind around it. Could it be a coincidence? the Wind-Seller woman wondered. No, it surely must be it.

Sigrun stepped forward, her voice steady and clear, drawing the crew's attention. "I know a way that might help us reach Mimir's well faster," she began, her gaze meeting Helga's. "My people have a legend about the fragments of the Sampo, and whoever possesses it can summon strong winds anytime. When we navigated those rocks in the storm, I felt the presence of the Sampo. If we find those rocks again, the power of the fragment could significantly shorten our journey." Her words hung in the air, a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

The crew gathered closer, intrigued by Sigrun's words. Helga nodded for her to continue.

"In the legends of the Wind-Sellers, the Sampo is like Thor's hammer," Sigrun explained, careful not to reveal too much. "It was said to have incredible powers that the gods could use for extraordinary feats. But because of this, it also became a source of strife over who should wield such power. The gods couldn't agree, and eventually, the Sampo shattered, its pieces scattered across the world by the sea. However, those with the ability to control the wind can sense the presence of the Sampo if they are close enough. When we approached the rocks in the storm, I felt the power of the Sampo at that moment."

Gunnar's eyes lit up with interest. "And you believe you can harness this power?"

Sigrun nodded confidently. "I remember the feeling it stirred within me, and it's not much different from what I've done with the wind before. It won't be easy to control, but I am determined that it will be to our advantage. And if we can summon the wind at will, we can reach Mimir's well much sooner, perhaps even in time to save Odin."

Helga looked around at her crew, seeing the spark of hope and determination in their eyes—the hope they had been waiting and searching for days. Now, they had a purpose and hope that they could succeed. "Then it's decided. We will follow Sigrun's guidance back to the rocks and harness the wind of this legend to aid our journey."

As the crew cheered, their spirits lifted by the promise of a faster route, Sigrun felt a sense of pride and belonging. Despite the shadows of her past, she had found a new family and purpose. She silently vowed to herself that she would not let momentary emotions cause her to lose their trust again.

The crew worked tirelessly throughout the morning, their movements a blend of routine and urgency. They were united by their common goal, but each member knew they had to face their own demons. Helga's strong leadership and Erik's calm presence provided a foundation. Still, it was up to each individual to find their own courage.