“Life and soul!!!”
“Our future we extoll!!!” the crowd hollered in unison.
“I hope the first day of the metnaðr-raun hasn’t tired you all out!!! There’s still plenty more celebrating to be done!!!” The man said, voice waves rebounding off the curvature of Jörðgard, strengthening it beyond everyday capability. “For the few that may not recognise me, I am Eitri Illugason, heir of Gottormir Illugason, chieftain of Skuldsökaring!!!” His introduction elicited another round of applause from the multicoloured sea of bodies, though not as enthusiastically as previously. Distinctive, suave features, cropped beard, and sly smile oozed a unique charisma, instantly capturing the audience’s attention.
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“Now, I’m sure everyone is excited to get on with this evening’s entertainment, but first, let us take a moment to remember our brothers and sisters who have given their blood, sweat and tears to keep us safe. It is no lie that it hasn’t been easy the past few years, and we have lost many in our fight, but thanks to them, we can stand here today and strive for a better future. Please, let us take a moment to thank them for their valiant sacrifice and wish them a merry afterlife.” Eitri bowed his head, as did most of those attending, sending thoughts and prayers to loved ones lost to the unceasing tide of death that seeped from beneath the land.
“Praise the Great Guardian,” Eitri uttered after the silence, the masses mirroring the words in solemnity. “Now, who’s ready for today’s main event!!!” After letting the cheers die down, he continued, “As is tradition for every metnaðr-raun, the first day is dedicated to our youths. They are our future, who will carry on the torch illuminating the darkness in the same manner as our forefathers did since time immemorial. With this in mind, we have transformed the arena into a trial ground that these brave young ones will have to face. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… the Vesperal Labyrinth!!!”
Eitri swept his hand in flourish amidst the roars, attendants standing at the arena’s edge jumping into action at the signal, performing a strange dance routine similar to how one rows a boat. The arena floor receded, revealing an intricate maze filled with traps and hazards, isolated by an abyssal moat. “Quell your worries. Our expert instructors are ready to intervene if any participants are in grave danger,” the attendants jumped onto the metal grates that acted as the labyrinths covering, situating themselves in strategic positions such that the whole area was within their purview.
“The participants will start over there,” Eitri pointed to the right of the maze that fed into a dark tunnel, “and must find their way to the end over there,” motioning downwards to a ramp that elevated till it reached an open area at the foot of the building he was in, referred to as Thrudsalr. “The participants can do as they please as long as they don’t cripple or fatally injure their fellow competitors. They can choose to work together or not. All that matters is that they make it to the end. Those that succeed will have proven themselves worthy of honour, becoming official warrior seeds that will be nurtured into the protectors of our beloved city!!!”
While Eitri entertained the commoners, revelling in the feeling as they held onto his every word, like fish on a hook, the more educated populace had other thoughts. The metnaðr-raun was, in truth, one of the ways the upper class kept a firm hold over those below them, with most of the profits siphoned out of the hard-earned wealth the thralls had saved over the years. This festival was a rare occurrence where they had access to items and equipment that were otherwise not affordable. Due to competing sellers, cheaper products led to many spending quite a sum each time it came along. This gave birth to a spasmodic flow of money through the economy, the everyday man essentially paying their own salaries for the next three years.
Of course, as the leading family, the ones who profited the most were the Illugis which was not what competing houses enjoyed and seeing Eitri play the crowds like he was, left a bad taste in many mouths. It was no secret that he was next in line to inherit the chieftain position as things currently stood. Paired with his rising favour and approval amongst the working class over the past few years, it looked particularly bleak for the other factions. This was a calculated move by the Illugis, who would be set to gain the most out of this particular metnaðr-raun if nothing changed over the next few days.
Cerulean eyes glared at Eitri while his grandstanding neared its conclusion, the man they belonged to resting upon a stone throne, face propped with hand. His cleanly shaven face that exuded masculine charm, paired with golden hair falling past his ears, had captivated the hearts of many a young maiden. Wrapped in a virgin white fur cape accented by dark blue clothes, he truly looked the part of a mighty ruler. Those surrounding him shared similar aesthetics, possessing piercing blue eyes and golden blonde hair, family and relatives. They occupied the best seats in Jörðgard and could comfortably view everything that went on below.
“If looks could kill, Eitri would have been dead long ago, don’t you think so, brother?” a serene voice to his left said. Though it may have sounded like a harmless joke, he had long grown used to his sister’s twisted sense of humour and could sense the concealed poison within her words.
“Sister, please don’t make a joke like that,” he chastised with a disdainful side-eye. She also sat atop a throne, but hers was intricately decorated and borderline gaudy, diametrically opposed to his angular and simplistic design. Golden hair flowed from her head, glistening whenever they crisscrossed with an errant ray of sunlight as icy eyes stared at Eitri. Where his facial features combined to form one portraying strength and power, hers did the opposite with demure, fragile features allowing her to pass off as an innocent girl barely of age.
“Booo, you’re no fun, Alffinnr,” she pouted, folding her arms. “Is everything in place, brother? I can’t wait to see their faces knowing what we have in store for them.”
“Yes, everything has been taken care of. We cannot allow them to gain another even if it is the svartr. Our house is barely keeping up with them as is.”
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She giggled at the mayhem that would ensue during today’s event, an eerie smile stretching her lips. “I hope you can entertain me adequately, little wolf,” she muttered, her words going unheard amidst the roaring masses.
Braziers scattered around the entire congregation had sprung to life sometime during the speech, tinging it in an orange glow as the sun drowsily hung in the sky, brushing it in a similar hue.
“I know everyone must be excited about the start, but there’s one last thing you must all know. Please turn your eyes to the finisher’s platform and take notice of the device,” Eitri said, drawing to a giant statue that stood near the entrance of Thrudsalr. The figure was dressed in long flowing robes, concealing all features and looked more like a wraith than all the other statues that clearly depicted warriors. A container made from glass and stone was resting between its hands, sand heaped within. “This is the Bearer Of Time. When all the grains travel from one end to the other, the trial will be deemed over. Those who have not made it to the platform by then will have failed, no matter their distance from finishing.”
“Now, without further ado, please start the timer!!!” At his command, six men stepped forth and gripped the air above them, grunting and wresting with an invisible enemy. Most watching were perplexed by their actions, but soon grinding of spine chilling magnitude sent them into mutism. The statue’s arms slowly moved, turning the device between its palms on its head. Everyone sat in silence, observing the marvellous spectacle. When the grains began to flow freely, Eitri immediately pointed to the dark tunnel, declaring, “Raise the gates and let the vesperal labyrinth begin!!!” The crowds cheered in delight as they anticipated a stampede of participants to burst into the maze, but no such thing occurred. The clamour fizzled out, leaving just crackling bonfires soloing a once vibrant chorus.
An outstretched silhouette spilled out from the dimly lit entrance tunnel, distant footfalls diffusing into a dimming atmosphere. The crowds waited with bated breaths, trying to guess who it may be from the stygian shade that peaked out. Anticipation rose with every passing moment as the shadow gradually shrunk while rebounding footfalls grew softer, culminating in a boy exiting the tunnel. He stood at the entrance, calmly observing the surroundings, obscured by a blanket of darkness. Stepping forward and into the yellow glow birthed from the braziers that rested upon the nearby walls, cries of anger and distaste filtered from the swarm.
He made sure the round shield strapped to his left arm was taut, nonchalant demeanour, pouring oil on already heated heads. Satisfied that everything was in place, he raised his hand, waiting until the insults and murmurs died down. With a lungful of air, a crisp childlike voice seemingly carried by the winds was heard by all, the declaration an opening to a legendary saga that would be told for eons to come.
“Only those I deem worthy shall pass!!!”
He strode into the maze, the silence suffocating, cloying to everyone present.
----------------------------------------
A moment earlier.
“Wait!!!” I shouted towards an arena staffer about to close the door. She turned to me with an annoyed look, face scrunching up as she took in my form.
“Hmph—a moment later, and you wouldn’t have made it in time,” she derided. “Do you have a participant’s token?” I produced a circular medallion—moulded from stone—at her inquiry that she plucked from my hand. After thoroughly scrutinising it, she attempted to shove me beyond the door, managing to evade her swipe by a hair. Her face darkened, despite the already damp lighting. “Do not take me for a fool, boy. I will maim you so thoroughly that you will not be able to even make it to the labyrinth,” she growled, speaking through gritted teeth.
Ignoring the clear signs she had some sort of deficiency, I spoke my piece. “I-I’m sorry, miss. I only intended to tell you that the guard captain called for your presence. It seemed urgent… something about rowdy spectators,” I squeaked timidly.
Her eyes lit up at my words, saying, “Why didn’t you say so the first time, boy. Hurry and get in. Duty calls!!!” Yup, she was one of those, always looking for a reason to get into a brawl. I’ll be sure to stay far away from her. With speed she didn’t seem to previously possess, she hurled me into the room, laughter ringing in my ears. A wave of heat immediately struck me, permeated with the stench of sweat and other bodily odours. Children were packed into the room like a can of sardines under the midday summer sun, producing a horrid stench. I wondered if this was also part of the challenge.
Fighting back the odour, I turned around just in time to see the entrance fuse into the wall, sealing the space. The only connection we had with the outside world was a skylight barred by a metal grate. Coal torches staked into the four corners of the room cast an ember glow that illuminated worried yet heated faces, eager to prove themselves to family and city. You could differentiate them from their attire, those with wealth donning light leather armour and padding while the rest just had the clothes on their back—I belonged to the latter group. It was less that I couldn’t get any and more so a deliberate choice. I needed to show I was one of the have nots for my plan to bear full fruit.
I snaked between huddled social circles, hearing whispers discussing strategy and how they would work together to reach the end. Laughable, it may work for a while, but when push comes to shove, when people are forced to choose between a selfless or selfish act, they will almost always choose the latter.
Stopping in front of a weapons rack that took up the left side of the room, I picked through the few remaining options. Inspecting a wooden axe, I noticed a crack running along the handle’s spine, rendering it practically useless, the rest sharing a similar fate. All the weapons of good condition had been snatched, a consequence of arriving late, a minor setback.
I moved over to where the shields were placed, neatly stacked atop each other, hoisting up the topmost one. It was circular, a little larger than my chest, quarters alternating between green and blue. I slid my hand through the leather straps on the backside of the shield and pulled them tight till they clung securely to my forearm.
The sound of sniffling and heaving eked over the loud chatter, the source being a petite girl crouched in nearby a corner, head buried between her knees. ‘Forced to participate against her will, or is it just nerves?’ I wondered. Maybe due to my gaze, she lifted her head up and looked around, eventually locking eyes with me. We just stared at each other, lost in a fleeting moment, before I shrugged and walked away.
There was a circular podium in the centre of the room, directly beneath the skylight, that would be my altar. Children sat on its lip with shaky legs and sweaty palms that they tried to conceal from fellow competitors. This was as much a non-combat exercise as it was one, and any weakness they showed might just be used against them.
Hopping up on the platform, I looked around. The room was packed full of children ranging from anywhere between nine to eleven and twelve, all doing their best to overcome the nerves and butterflies one would experience before a significant performance. From a cursory glance, boys made up the majority while girls tended to be of older age, a good sign. The more hot-blooded individuals there were, the higher the chance of success. This place felt like a powder keg ready to burst, all I had to do was light the match, and I had just the thing.
Clang Clang Clang
“Quiet!!!”