I shudder awake to the shouts echoing a few meters in front of me. The sharp hum in my ears muffle the words they carry.

"Steady!"

"Hello?" my throat scratches out, not receiving an answer.

A coarse cloth is wrapped tightly around my eyes. It's rough edges cut into the sides of my head like thin daggers. Groggy and exhausted, I lift my head to follow the words fluttering around me. Chains rattle from firmly clasped restraints strangling my wrists. The scorching metal burns my skin like it has been cooking in the sun for hours. I pull against them but they anchor on the wooden beam I am firmly pressed up against.

"Hello! Can someone tell me what's going on?" I yell, dread overtaking me.

"Aim!" The word breaches my distracted ear.

Aim?... I need to get out of here!

I twist my body frantically. My heels carve a foothold into the dirt and I shove my back against the pole. The air in my lungs escapes my lips on impact. The cloth shifts and lays askew across my tender cheek. The sun blinds me, bright and hot like searing coals pressed into my eyes.

There must be something that I can use. Something, that can get me out of here!

My eyes adjust to the yellow haze and now witness a line of archers standing in front of me, bows drawn, motionless, like stone statues. The owner of the unknown voice to their right. My heart skips.

Rage bubbles in my chest and replaces the confusion and dread. "What are you doing to me!"

I struggle against my bindings in a last-ditch effort to escape.

"FIRE!"

A flurry of arrows flutter towards me in slow motion. They dance elegantly, without a care, quietly advancing to their unfortunate target. Fear slithers back into my helpless mind.

Is this really the end?

The array of arrows pierce my torso with ease. Sharp, white-hot pain resonates through my entire body as if molten metal has replaced the blood in my veins. A stiff, beautiful red feather, caps the arrow stems and matches the blood staining my clothes. A deep black hue creeps from the outskirts of my eyes until only darkness remains.

No... I don't want to... I cant...

My thoughts dissolve and my head sinks to my chest. The pain fades and my heartbeat slows. I focus on its rhythmic beating going thump-thump... thump-thump... thump-thump...

*****

I jolt awake. Wind swirls around me with unforgiving howls. I can't help but to shiver as it steals the grey clouds escaping my lips. I sit up. Icicles break off my frosted body and shatter on the ground around me. A foul odor overtakes my defenseless nose. My frostbitten fingers move to shield my nose and rub against my thick, coarse beard. A few short, black strands fall as my other hand rummages through my hair, brushing off the frost and dirt that has collected there.

"How long have I been lying here?" I grumble to myself.

The frigid touch of water nips at my feet from the colorless, endless sea before me. The elegant motion of its waves crack and tear the ice on its surface and push it to shore. A faint moon-like light radiates from the sky above, however, there is not a moon nor stars within sight. Just a pitch-black sky gazing down upon me with daunting oppression. My head throbs and visions of arrows plague my mind.

The arrows!...

My hands glide to my chest, anticipating their touch but are instead greeted by chilled armor.

Confusion fills me, my last recollection dressing me in blood stained rags. I push myself to remember anything more from the time previous to waking up, but deem the task impossible. My head just pounds like a blacksmith's hammer is constantly crashing into it.

What in the gods is going on?

Large iron gauntlets embrace my forearms. The animal fur sewn within is the only thing keeping them warmer than my increasingly stiff fingers. My numb digits stumble over straps of leather that entangle the armor, their tan a stark contrast against the gray of the chainmail. Tracing their path leads to two axes attached to my back. Their blades chipped and worn from repeated use.

I wish I had these before.

Loathe to contact the frozen ground around me, I use my hands to push to my feet. My legs struggle to hold my aching body. A waft of foul odor bites my nose once again, and I turn to follow. Behind me, a vile display of corpses are piled and strewn about on the shore of the sea. Some piles tower over me by a few meters.

Run! Every fragment of my being demands I flee. My eyes anchor for what seems like an eternity on the sight before me.

This has to be some dream. Some nightmare!

I step back, fearful of the image my eyes are witnessing. Knots turn my stomach. Their faces now permanently scarred in my mind. While all the dead are armored, their state of decay vary greatly. I continue my retreat until waves lap ay my heels. Its cold kiss signals there is nowhere else to go. There is no escape from what is before me.

What do I do?

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Why in god's name am I here?

How could they even let an atrocity like this occur?

These thoughts tear through my head in rapid succession. I look to either side of me, unable to discern a clear path away from the corpses.

"Damn it," I mumble under my breath, trying to find the courage to move my feet.

I advance towards the piles of corpses laid before me. The smell worsens the closer my feet bring me. The putrid odor burns holes through the sides of my nose. I carefully step over the bodies and notice the armor worn by my fellow warriors all having different insignia. How can so many different bands of Vikings and warriors be in the same place? I even recognize some from old stories told in my home village dating back over a hundred years ago. The story of how they met their end lost somewhere in the ground around me.

Snowflakes begin to fall from the dark sky with no cloud in sight, a light fall, drifting down upon the scores of dead surrounding me.

If I don't find a way out soon, then I am just going to freeze to death.

I continue distancing myself from the shore my bones heavier the longer I wander. I trip through the fallen corpses, searching for a beacon of hope out of this dismal place, however, I am only embraced by the same pillars of bodies continuously scattered in every direction. My nose and mind growing numb to the sight. The snow crunches beneath my feet. Its sound is a pleasant distraction. It keeps me sane and determined not to join the dead that lay ominously still around me.

Faint footsteps scrape against the snow originating from the pile of bodies to my right. My hands glide to my axes. I unstrap them and position myself against the pile. I grip the axes firmly. I don't know what is on the other side, but I'll be damned if I'm not prepared for the worst.

I lean around the pile, careful to only reveal a small portion of myself. I let out a sigh of relief when I only see a young man no older than sixteen on the other side. His short, brown hair flows as he quickly spins in circles, letting a little bit of fear weep from his eyes. His clumsy sway reminds me of when I awoke in this place, incapable of comprehending the bodies around me. He holds a spear in his hands at the ready, waiting for one of them to move. I lean in for a closer look when my hand slips on the snow and pushes one of the bodies loose. A loud crash of metal follows its descent to the floor. The kid shouts and lunges at me with his spear.

"Hey!" I shout as I sidestep and block his initial thrust with my axe. His spear wedges into the pile behind me. Leather armor two sizes to big for him rattles around his thin, lanky frame. He isn't built like a typical Viking, but neither was I at his age.

His eyes switch from fear to desperation. He releases the spear in his hands and draws a dagger from the sheath around his waist. "If you come any closer, I'll pour out your insides! You hear me?" He yells and positions himself for a second attack.

"Hold it, son," I say, trying to calm him down and not get a knife tickling between my ribs. I understand the fear he feels. Like a wounded animal being backed into a corner in an unfamiliar environment. If he was the one who ran into me, I may have been the one to attack.

"I'm not here to hurt you. I woke up here the same as you. Do you know where we are?"

"Isn't it obvious? He softly mumbles to himself almost in a trance.

"Out with it boy!" I yell, growing impatient.

The boy drops to the ground, his knees sinking into the snow with a thud, "I know you have heard the stories. A place the gods take the trash of the world of the living. Where sinners go to suffer for all eternity."

"Where! Where are we!" I shout, placing my hands around the boys collar and lifting him off the ground.

Tears begin to stream down the boys cheek, "Nifflheim. We are in Nifflheim!"

I let go of the boy and he splashes back into the snow with his hands placed firmly over his ears. He sways on the ground and continues to mumble incoherently to himself .

His words slam into my gut like a hind kick from a wild horse. I take in everything I have seen since waking up. Everything my mind tried to ignore or explain. I never pieced it all together, or didn't want to, hoping this was all some terrible nightmare I would soon wake from. The numerous corpses, the frozen climate, the arrows... wait, that means I must have...

The fear inside quickly turns to rage, "Dammit!" I shout, slamming my fist into a pile of corpses. My eyes fall back onto the child. This isn't the time for this.

I reach out my non bloodied hand to the cowering child. He hesitates, shooting a wary glare at the open hand like it would soon transform and attack. I understand his mistrust. I could offer him no assurance. No answers. I can barely wrap my head around the situation myself.

I want to... no, I need something to focus on. I need something real. Something human. Someone to trust if I was going to hold myself together. Maybe then I can make it through this. "Come on son. This is no place to lie down and die."

"What's the point? We are already dead." He sorrowfully bites back.

"Is someone over there?" Another voice calls out a few meters away.

The thought of more people worries me more than comforts. It only adds to the heap of questions that clogs my mind. I bend down and grab the knife by the blade and hand it to the kid.

"You can either choose to fight and come with me, or you might as well slit your throat and join the bodies around you." The words roll coldly off my lips. If this doesn't kindle his survival instincts, nothing will.

He looks up to me, no longer shaking. "I... I don't want to become like them," he says and grabs the dagger from my hand.

I help the boy to his feet, "Let's go." We take a few steps against the ever-increasing cold. The owner of the voice stands between two heaps of bodies and blocks our way. The tip of their massive sword slams into the ground with a thud.

"Can either of you boys tell me where in the gods are we?"

The voice belongs to a woman wearing armor more elegant than what both the boy and I wear. Its silver chic pairs nicely with the gems encrusted around its edges. She most likely rules over a town or a small profitable village at the least. She has long, golden hair and fair skin that is even paler from the cold. The large sword in her hands is garnished not unlike the armor and looks even heavier than I would handle effectively. Even still, she holds it firmly with a commanding presence. I reposition my hands around my axes and prepare for her first strike.

"Just woke up to these uglies not too long ago. Got caught on one of the poor bastards daggers." She gestures to the small gash in her forearm that slowly trickles blood.

"Followed the clanging of metal here to you sad lot." She laughs and inspects the boy and me.

"I guess you will have to do. Come with me." She orders over her shoulder. She walks away. Her footsteps are heavy and sound like thunder.

The boy looks at me with a confused expression. "How can we even trust you?" The boy shouts, speedily walking to catch up with her.

"Because if I wanted you dead, you would be," she answers, stopping the boy in his tracks.

I smirk and loosen my grip on the axes. I sling them back over my shoulder and follow behind her. I push past the kid who stands speechless but quickly follows behind. My eyes fixate on the large sword she carries effortlessly. Maybe it was a little hasty to follow her without question, but she would be a troublesome foe. Win or lose the gods know there is no need to add to the heaps of bodies that lay around us. All I have to go on is my instincts, and I trust those.

"The kid says we are in Nifflheim, and I for one believe in his words. I can't find another explanation to –," I start but am quickly cut off.

"Impossible! If I have fallen, then I certainly died honorably in battle. My people share in great prosperity from my accomplishments! If I died, then I should be in the great halls of Valhalla! There must be some other explanation!"

She quickly grasps her slip of composure and tightens it again. We continue walking without saying another word.