The air smelt of dried lint and hot sand. Great winds picked up yellow grains and swept it on board. I turned to look at an old man who had reached the deserts a quarter of a century before. We had picked him up on a Greek Island while resupplying. His stride wasn’t strong; however, it was stable. He looked on; his chin held straight by the force of his great white beard.

“How do we find a settlement?” I asked in broken Latin.

“We don’t.” he answered. “Hug the coast and you will find something. That’s all that can be done.”

#

For two days sea winds mixed with our sweat. Salt crystallized in our hair and in our tear ducks. So much had built up that the salt on the ship was worth more than itself. We listened to the old man’s stories as he guided us down the coast and told us which plants to avoid and which ones tasted of gold.

The sun, ever white seared our skin and blades; now too hot to handle were relinquished to the deck. Even our salted fish carried a bitter after taste. Our bread had shrunk to the size of a pebble, its tastes non-existent and harsh.

#

“I see shadows in the distance,” yelled the youngest of the group. His eyes, yet to degrade peered far beyond my own.

Soon we arrived close enough to see a few huts. And there, a few metres in front, three men fished small fish on a rickety vessel. Too concentrated on the small grey food they didn’t notice our bow.

Who cared.

“Full speed ahead!” I yelled.

The wooden paddles already clutched within the men’s hands cracked and splintered. These splinters could do no more than fall limply on the floor as the sailors’ hands were too rough, too tough, too strong to be penetrated by wood alone.

Smoak started to rise from the gaps in between their fingers. The water parted. If the fishermen hadn’t noticed us then. Now with hoo’s and ha’s they could do no more than tremble.

We didn’t even leave them time to think before running their hull. Their boat cracked in half, and the currents dragged them under our wood. We continued, without losing speed, until we reached land. Regardless of if our sword’s leather handle bound to our skin, we debarked. Women, men, and children alike ran and screamed. They wore nothing more than thin tunics and veils to protect themselves from the sun. However, these white clothes absorbed blood just as well as they did sunlight.

A man with a flimsy spear stood in front of my eyes. His puffy red eyes did no more than encourage my blade to aim for his heart.

He tried to poke my heart. I stepped back, he didn’t know his own range. His hands still extended, I hit the tip of his spear. He stumbled forwards. Such a heavy metal tip couldn’t be held straight in such frail hands. I stepped in, my blade, resting in between my stomach and his neck swung up and cut clean through his neck.

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Blood rained down. I moved on and kept on slaughtering men till none were left.

#

“Gustave, we’ve made the rounds of all the houses. No fighting aged men are left.”

I nodded. “And the rest?”

“There are fifty-one women and twenty kids.”

I thought back to the size of the crew. Humiliatingly I couldn’t remember. “Including the injured how many of us is left after the incident?”

“Fifty-six.”

Well, there weren’t enough women for every man, but it would do for now.

“One more thing Gustave. It seems that something weird is going on with a child.”

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Why should we care for a child that isn’t even ours?”

“It seems it can use magic?”

I jumped out of my chair, my drink toppled over and dripped down the wood table. “Show me.”

Gorm, the one formerly in charge of our funds led me to a good-sized hut. He pushed open the door, and there in a corner a mother caressed her child. It did not look any different than any I had seen before.

Gorm drew near the mother. She yelled and turned to face the wall. Gorm grabbed her hair, pulled her away from the wall and pried open her arms. She screamed; tears rolled down her eyes. When the baby left her arms, she threw random punches at Gorm. However, now that the child was secured in his arms he didn’t fret and kicked her head, knocking her out.

“Here,” Gorm handed me the baby. I looked into its brown eyes. Nothing seemed out of the norm. “What am I supposed to see?” I turned to Gorm.

A force pushed against my arms. I looked down and saw that the baby, no bigger than my forearm was prying apart my arms. I reinforced my grasp on the baby, however, my atrophied arm let me down. The baby fell and hit floor without care or injury and crawled back to his mother.

“Are there any others?” I asked. Tingles passed through my head, and my hair stood on end. Perhaps I would never be a match for these creatures. However, if Odin has blessed these children with the power to defeat them. I could no doubt accompany them to Valhalla. Old warriors still had a place in this new era. “Are there any other with abilities?”

“No, we don’t know of any others.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. Too much had happened so quickly. What had created the salamander, the vampire, the flying horse, and this child wasn’t localized and occurred in the span of these past two years. It did not discriminate between species, only age. There would no doubt be more soon to come. Whether that be children with powers or new beasts. Nothing should surprise us anymore. “Keep an eye out for more of them. And this one. I will adopt this child. Tell the men that none are to touch him or his mother.”

The man nodded and left. I remained behind. The baby had its eyes shut close. His hands clung to his mother’s clothes. I unhooked his fingers and carried him out of the hut. He fought to get out; however, I held on to the tarp which covered his body. He couldn’t do anything about this other than rip apart the fabric. When he realized that nothing could be done, he gave up. Silent as he can be, resigned onto his fate I brought him into my hut. His new home. Why did I spare his mother again? Yes, he needs to be breastfed. But on a second, though, I needed him to forget about her. I would be his only parent, mentor, and teacher. My eyes would peer onto him, and his onto mine. And there, ingrained in his mind, I would live and fight on; now with the force and furry of a thousand men.

#

“Is there any other woman who can breastfeed?” I asked Gorm.

“I’d have to check. I think there are two or three newborns. So probably.”

“Then bring one here. I don’t want the child to be attached to his mother. Dig a grave.”