“Those beds are like lying upon clouds,” Skardi stated as he waited for Einar to fill his cup again. “I’m not trying to brag, but I’ve slept on a very nice one growing up, and this one makes it seem like a pile of pebbles.”
Every other warrior nodded and chuckled as they sat along the long table, waiting for Einar to finish filling up a few more cups.
The chairs they sat in were dark wood, hand carved and yet felt perfect for their size and mass. The table had a massive battle carved into it. It depicted elves and giants fighting across an open field and ran the length of the ten-foot table. A protective layer of something clear kept it from being damaged as each warrior had touched the sections, pointing out details as their leader waited on them for a moment.
A short whistle came, and the room went silent, each person turning to see Einar now at the end he had started, not sitting yet.
“Each of you, lift up your cup and let us thank Odin, Freyr, and the other gods for their blessings. Their watchful eyes and gift of their magic has brought us to a place where no Viking has sat in so long.”
Cups were held upward, each warrior and Thorve stretching their arm toward the ceiling, waiting for the call to drink.
“May we not fear what comes our way. May we find the strength to overcome whatever task is given. And…” Einar paused, smirking as he saw smiles growing on their faces. “May we return home soon, carts filled with spoils and forge runes which will allow us to grow stronger than giants!”
Cheers came as every Viking mirrored Einar when he drained his drink, slamming their cups onto the table and then cheering.
Giving them a few moments to celebrate, Einar finally sat down, holding up his hand and waiting for silence. When they had settled down, he nodded to Thorve, who sat at the opposite end of the table.
Rising from her seat, she leaned against the table, letting her blue eyes hold each of the warriors' gaze for a moment before speaking.
“We have an appointment at the most sacred temple the elves have. It is rumored that Freyr watches each person who walks across the threshold and any who are not one of his will be struck down before their foot touches the other side.”
A few of the warriors shifted in their seats, yet none said a word.
“How many of you have been blessed to enter Odin’s temple in Katanes?”
Thorrod, Hallad and Ospak were the only ones who raised their hand.
“And each of you sensed the eye of Odin upon you?”
The trio all nodded, their eyes narrowing slightly at the same time.
“There is no fear for a Viking to step inside the home we have built for the All-Father yet ask yourselves how many elves or dwarves have you ever heard of entering in?”
Each of the Vikings glanced at the other, and finally Hallad spoke out.
“None.”
“Correct. What we are about to do is so rare, most will not believe it back home. Even with all of us testifying the same thing, many will still doubt it can be true.”
Thorve’s blue eyes sparkled as she bent her elbows, bending further over the table as she swept her gaze across them all.
“Do not be a fool and act like one,” their healer growled. “If you do something I think is wrong, just know I shall make you wish Freyr struck you down.”
She nodded once and sat down in her chair.
Einar cleared his throat and smiled.
“Now that you have the fear of Freyr and Thorve in you, let me move on to a few other important things before each of us begins the tasks I have for you.”
Thorodd began sliding papers from his seat in the middle, smiling as he watched some of their reactions.
“No doubt, some of you will be tasked with things you might not like. I’ll apologize and lie, saying you’re the best one for it, but in the end, luck failed you as Thorodd drew names for all the bad tasks.”
Only Starkard and Skardi groaned at that statement.
“Now, we need to ensure that we can repair a few things, get our supplies restocked, upgrade a few more weapons and make a few trades. I just got word from Lyeneru that they will come by tomorrow right before noon to gather us and bring us to the temple. After that we will be taken to the advisor for the King and Queen. This means we have about four hours today to accomplish all we can.”
Einar pulled a coin purse off his belt and opened it, slowly pulling a few stamped metal coins out. When eleven were counted out, he passed them down the table.
“Each of you takes one. Every warrior gets one today.”
“Why is your name stamped on this?” Ospak asked as he retrieved his first.
Holding up a coin, Einar showed that the back side was a rough axe stamp and the front side had his name imprinted in it.
“These coins are rewards. When we return to Kopanes, you can use them to upgrade your runes and purchase new ones.”
“Aren’t we getting a rune already for what we are doing?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Einar nodded at Thorleif, who spoke out first and grinned.
“You are, but who shall go first? That coin in your hand will determine that. You can earn more, and Thorodd will be in charge of handing those out.”
Bodalf’s hand snaked out and snatched Ospak’s coin from his fingers, waving off the other Viking’s attempts to get it back. Laughter came from the others, and Einar rolled his eyes.
A sharp whistle from Thorodd stopped the fighting, and Bodalf gave back the coin.
“Stealing won’t be an issue, as I keep a record of each coin given out,” Thorodd informed them. “However, if you lose them, do not expect me to be happy about replacing them. Treat these with more respect than you do with your axe. If you decide you want to trade one with another, both of you must come to me at the same time.”
“So how will we earn more? Kiss Thorodd’s massive ass or what?”
Each of the Vikings nodded in agreement at Hogni’s question.
“Be Vikings,” Einar answered. “Prove your worth in ways beyond what you know to do. Lead, teach, excel.”
Einar pointed at Thorodd as he paused.
“One day he hopes to have a pack of his own choosing. Right now he is proving his ability to lead a pack for me. When the time comes and I have a warband of my own, I will need other pack leaders.”
Their expressions changed as the realization that not only was Einar offering them a chance to grow stronger, gain fame, and do things most would never do, but now he was actively giving them a chance for something most would admit was impossible.
“You would offer us a pack?”
Einar nodded as he smiled at Skardi.
“Each of you was chosen for more than just your skill and current power. Thorodd and I discussed the long game. We see inside you the power Odin has given and the efforts you have made to grow stronger. I have always been looking at the long game. As such, there will be a need for warriors who lead packs. I will need warriors who can strategize and plan the best course. Even more, I need warriors who understand the cost of death and are willing to die if the time is right, but also willing to run.”
Some frowned at that statement.
“I know fleeing isn’t preferred, but tell me, do you think Odin wants you to die a worthless death? Do you think he and the other gods restored your lost strength just so you could run headfirst into a pack of giants, buck naked and without an axe?”
A few chuckles came as the frowns started to disappear.
“Death comes for us all. A worthy death is what we long for when it comes. Choose to make each death a worthy one and escape those that are not.”
The pounding of fists on the table and the nodding of heads was the affirmation he needed from them.
“Now, enough of this conversation. You have four hours. Let’s see who earns their second coin first!”
The sound of wood scraping across the stone floors filled the room they were sitting in as each warrior sprang to their feet, grabbing their paper Thorodd had given them, and raced toward the door like children trying to be the first in line for a treat.
Once all of them were gone, Einar laughed and moved to sit between Thorve and Thorodd, carrying a pitcher of wine with him.
“Good speech. I’m certain they will stop at some point and actually read everything on that list.”
“Please, we already know that Osvif has already read his and knows exactly where to go,” Thorve stated. “Besides, as the second in command, you know who will most likely win that coin.”
Shaking his head, the giant grinned.
“Actually, I have a bet with Einar, but he won’t let me open the letter until we see who the winner is.”
Their healer studied Einar, who was pouring more drink into their cups.
“Don’t want to tip the scales?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “Even more, I don’t want Thorodd potentially getting swayed so he can win a coin for himself.”
***
Einar ignored the pain.
No, he embraced it.
Each muscle ached as he stood there, sweat dripping off his skin and onto the stone floor.
Lightning occasionally sparked across his fists, appearing for a second, two at most and vanishing until he could bring it back again.
Unlike the flames, this was so much harder.
His mind had to be focused. Nothing could distract him.
It was as if he fought against a storm, trying to lasso a cloud and then squeeze the energy from it.
Each moment burned his entire body and now he understood why the air mage Groa had warned him about lightning. Fire and ice were easier, much easier, yet this was impossible to summon unless he had a target to focus upon.
Images of Thor and his hammer danced in his head.
Everything he could recall about the god played out.
Only for battle.
Never for show.
Einar tried to remember what it was like when he had channeled it.
The anger he had felt and the need was so great. It had seemed easy in that moment, focusing all that rage. It had flowed through him, wanted to enter his axe, wanted him to throw it.
Is there a reason why Thor used the hammer? He was the god of lightning before, right?
The small glow that had been growing vanished as his mind raced again, trying to figure out how to channel and focus the power.
Glancing to the left, he saw one of his axes on the small table, resting on his clothes.
Slowly, Einar stopped drawing his Wyrd, letting the power cease from flowing through him. Trembling slightly, he moved to where his axe lay and picked it up, trying to not drip sweat everywhere he went.
Retreating back to his spot, Einar took the axe, set his legs again, and tightened everything.
Breathing slowly, he began to draw his Wyrd once more, focusing his thoughts and the power of what he desired.
He could feel the magic flooding him and the runes on his head began to glow, casting a dim light around his room.
Brighter they grew and then the other runes began to join in, illuminating the area as sparks as a bright arc of power ran across the metal of his weapon.
Soon it pulsed again, and then another arc showed up.
Seconds turned to ten and finally twenty before Einar felt himself starting to bottom out. His Wyrd was almost all gone yet there for almost half a minute he had held it, controlled it.
Letting the magic he held go, it crackled and popped, darting across the room and connecting to different pieces of metal in the room.
Small explosions took place as the power left him and his weapon, seeking a release.
Metal nails within the bed frame exploded, sending a shower of splinters and igniting the frame.
Every nail and metal object that lay about him seemed unprepared for the power he had held and once the lightning touched them, succumbed to the power, exploding in a moment.
Flames, smoke, and a ringing noise all fought for his attention.
Then the sound of his door falling against the ground, its hinges blown off made him turn to see other areas of the room were suffering from his foolish attempt.
Dropping the axe, Einar moved quickly, trying to put the fires out as he grabbed a blanket and began beating the flames with it.
The sounds of shouts and footsteps coming down the hallway outside his room announced the incoming presence of multiple people.
I’m not going to live this down for a long time…