Bothvar Beorcolsson
Lightning crashes down upon the ice-cold lands of the Frost Giants as I wield my mighty hammer, sending bolts of lightning out as I strike the frozen bastards. Falling them one by one as my kin and I wage war upon them. I paint the white, cold snow with the blood of giants…
I wake up in my bed. It was only a dream. Or was it more? Could that be a premonition? Are we to go to the lands of the Jotnar and fight them? If so, will I finally wield that hammer in the cave? I shake it off and get dressed.
Stormfront is no longer a village. It’s grown into a rather large settlement. A city if you want to call it that. Most of the repairs from the Jotnar invasion are all finished. The walls weren’t just built back; they were built back stronger. Tall with both a steel foundation and reinforced with the glow ore thanks to the dwarf siblings, Aldam and his sister whose name I forgot. Of course, Aldam mostly crafted parts for his pack mules to haul. When I say pack mules, I mean the people training in the mountains with him. While he was there, he built himself a blast furnace and made steel beams for the trainees he likes to call turd-lickers, arsefaces, goat-brained, and more.
Of course, he and his sister couldn’t agree on anything, and I’m surprised the wall got built at all with those two bickering every time Aldam went into town. But thanks to Aethelwin of the Builder Clan, the walls did get built. He was able to implement the ideas of the two dwarves to build a wall that was stronger than anything we had before. It’s taller than the trees with mounted ballistae and slings for hurling bags of greasy lards and fat. There are also cook pots full of oil.
I check upon Osvald and Gyda. They’ve made some good progress. Periodically during our training, I had those strong enough to bring the boat builder weapons and armor we’ve crafted with the glow ore to help him test his ships with it. As I come to inspect his work, I am astonished at what he has created. I find him sailing down the bay with a ship as big as the elves make. I spot the slings I requested mounted in between the ballistae. Unlike our older ships, these have five mounted weapons on each side. Two ballistae and three slings. The boat builder spots me and waves at me. “Bothvar, my friend! I did it. I have solved your problem.”
He steers the ship towards the docks. Men at the docks, help him. He sets down the plank and I walk up his massive ship. “I designed it like that of the elven and merchant ships you’ve brought back to me. I added two more masts to capture more wind and make it faster. There’s an added deck, and I created a captain’s quarters. But to answer your problem, I made several different modifications. The boat is wider. The hull is deeper. So, you’ll have to avoid more shallow waters. You can put the bulk of your weight at the bottom of the ship and keep it in the middle so the weight is centered. The hull itself has two layers. The outside and a gap that is full of air to give it more… What some call buoyancy. It’ll float better and this will help protect against attacks on the hull. So, if they damage the outer layer and the water gets into the gap, all is not lost, but you will have to reduce your weight. Significantly. Another addition I made is up here on the quarterdeck I added. It has this wheel that they have on the elven and merchant ships that controls the rudder, so you no longer need a steering paddle. You still have a deck dedicated to rowers on the second deck. The lowest deck is for storage, and I’ve added a compartment for captured slaves that will reduce your loss due to the strain on them caused by the old ship design. I’ve put on little bulges to the exterior to add more gaps of air to make the ship more buoyant to fight the weight. And of course, I added your sling and tested it to make sure it’ll fire your lard sacks, and it works quite well. I’ve also added a private quarter for the Skipper.”
Gyda comes up smiling from ear to ear, holding something behind her back. “Boy, do I have a present for you, Bothvar. I think you’ll like it.”
“What is that?” I ask curiously.
She pulls out a large metal ball with what looks like a candle wick sticking out. “I call it my boom ball. You can fire these from the slings as well.”
“What does it do?” I ask.
She smiles even wider. A rather sadistic smile. She takes a medium size stick with some kind of red thing on the end. Then strikes it against a coarse material sewed into her breeches. A flame ignites on the stick. She then brings the flame to the little wick, and it sparks before she quickly throws it out into the bay.
She turns away, holding her ears. I barely manage to block my own ears before an enormous boom shakes the boat as the little ball explodes into fire in the air, spraying the water with chunks of metal. The boom was ear piercing. My eyes go wide. “Was that magic?”
She laughs. “No, silly. I discovered by mixing certain ingredients, it produces a powder that when touched with flame will make a big loud bang! Unfortunately, I have little of either ingredient. So, I could only make seven of the boom balls. I have a list of what I need to make the balls. If you get me the ingredients, I’ll make as many as I can.”
She hands me a list and I take it, nodding. “I’ll do my best to find these ingredients. These could prove to be a significant advantage. Thank you. My clan is in both of your debts.”
“There is one thing we’d like,” Osvald says.
“Name it,” I say.
“If you ever sail west. We’d like to join you. We heard stories of strange ships these pirates sail with, and I’d love to look at them.”
“I also heard they have a boom cannon. That sounds right up my boat. I think they use the same powder to shoot these metal balls out of a metal canon, but I won’t know for sure until I see one for myself,” she says, pulling on the blue braid of her hair. “I also have another idea I’m working on. A canon that spits fire like a dragon. It’s still a work in progress, but I was thinking of using a strong rum and spraying it through a flame to make a big burst of fire.”
I smile widely. “Yes, I could definitely make use of such a weapon. You two are extremely wise. I am grateful for your help.”
—
As we make our last-minute preparations to set out to Avala village, most of those who trained in the mountains are wielding the weapons of the glow ore and some even have armor as well. They were able to progress quickly. Much faster with the help of Aldam than I did by myself. I too gained a little more strength and speed with all the blacksmithing I did, making more tools and weapons with the ore.
Now that spring is all but over, we head to the All-Clan meeting at Avala village, which has become known as Winter’s Edge. The home village of the widow and brother of the late King Teowulf. Our once great leader of a unified Northern army. We’ve packed supplies to stay the night for the meeting of clans. Oddly enough, I felt an urge to bring Longhorn’s horn I saved. I have turned it into a horn of warning. It felt right. This way, Longhorn can forever be heard; his voice will be that of warning and protection towards others. I now keep it on me at all times.
Most at our village are welcome to come and this meeting only happens once a cycle at the end of spring. I went to a few here and there growing up, but none recently.
The only people who stay behind are some of the elderly who can’t make the trip and the people father assigns to watch over the town. The rest board the ships to sail down on the brief journey to the Ice Clan’s village.
Our crew all boards the new massive ship made by the Builders. There’s more than enough room for all the supplies, slaves, crew, and the crew’s family on this massive ship. The crew themselves are impressed as they take time to explore the entire ship. They’re quite happy with it. But they’re still a bit uneasy around me. I can feel the tension every time I’m around
Thora is extremely excited to go and will not stop talking about it. Thormar, Bodvar, and Svala only encourage her with stories of the last time they went with father.
She asks enough questions to drive me crazy. I walk up to the quarterdeck where Father is with Grimwald Hialtisson, Gudleif Grimwaldson, Rognvald Holmgavtsson, and Sigvid Varinsson. The men all marvel at the ship.
“Who’d have thought we’d be sailing in a ship that is a longhouse in and of itself,” Rognvald says.
“It is a fine ship,” Sigvid says as he looks out at it. “If only Varin could be here to see it. The old man would’ve fallen in love with it.”
My father’s face tenses up and I know what he is thinking. Thorkel would love to man a ship like this. Rognvald looks up at me as I join them. “Ahh, Bothvar. It is said we have you to thank for talking Osvald into building such a ship.”
“I didn’t say much, just told him we had to adjust for the weight of the new metal, and I suggested slings to launch sacks of flaming lard at the other ships.”
“All excellent suggestions,” Grimwald says as we depart the bay and sail down the coast.
As we sail out, Rognvald finds me and pulls me aside. “Look, Bothvar… I feel now that you’re back and will be taking up the captain spot, as you should, I should address some issues with the crew.”
I nod. “I understand their… Doubts. I abandoned them when they needed me most.”
Rognvald puts a hand on my shoulder. “Only a few still hold that view, but they hold onto it tightly. However, most of us agree with Gunnstein. We know you always do what you think is best. We all trust you and we’ll follow you.”
I nod in appreciation. “Thank you. You’ve always been a good friend and an invaluable shipmate. I feel far more confident with you with us.”
He smiles and nods.
The ship is swift, just as Osvald said. The added masts make it sail at faster speeds. Of course, it takes more men to maintain the sails and to row too.
We reach Avala Village in no time. The village is already crowded with other tribes. The slaves unload the ship as we make our way to the heart of the village. My Aunt Sigvor is with her slaves – two elven men, both with bright blue eyes and one younger than the other – and three elven women. I recognize them. The old man and the younger woman are the two I purchased the last time I was here as a boy with Thorkel. The younger man and the two other women are the slaves my father brought back when Arngunn’s parents died. I remember their names. Valindra is the one who thanked me for purchasing the other two. She is with that younger elf man, Lethvelion. I think my aunt let them get married or something. He used to have such a defiant stare, but now he seems…. Almost happy, I think. The other woman is Renna and the older elven man is Larongar. I don’t think I ever learned the name of the younger elf woman I purchased. She tends to look at me with kind eyes every now and again.
Lethvelion’s eyes meet mine and he holds my stare. There is something about that elf that makes me think he’d be useful. I bet he knows his way with a sword. Thormar’s suggestion comes to my mind. About using magic users to raid. Perhaps we could use them. But how could we trust an elf? Especially one like him. There’s something in his eyes that tells me he’s a cunning one.
The gambling elf named Olaurae helps my mother. I like that elf, as hard as it is for me to admit. He taught me and my siblings many games. Even Bodvar, who used to pick on him, has taken a liking to him. I’ve seen all three of my younger siblings sitting with him, playing games all winter long. I think he still cheats, but he does it in a way to let them win. That’s why they love playing because they win a lot. Not enough to make it boring, but enough to enjoy it. Of course, they don’t realize this; they think they’re just good at it. Thormar, I suspect, sees through it, but enjoys it nonetheless. Especially since the old man lets him win a lot more often than the other two.
I growl out as pain shoots up from my thigh as someone punches it. I look down to see Thora. “Are you listening?”
She’s far stronger than the little girl I once knew. What should I expect from the training she went through? That punch was like a hammer blow. “Of course, I’m listening. What did you say?”
“Obviously, you weren’t or you would have heard me!” she says, crossing her arms against her chest and glaring at me. “Hilde, Bolla, and Asvor just got off uncle Koll’s ship. Can I go play with them?”
I nod. “Just stay out of trouble.”
“I’ll go with her,” Svala says with a sigh. When did she become so grown up? She’s nearly an adult.
Thormar and Bodvar walk up with Thormar’s elven slave following. Both of them seem so different. Thormar is now a man, and Bodvar isn’t far behind. Just a little younger than Svala. My siblings remind me so much of Thorkel and me. “Brother. Father said we can join the meeting of the clan leaders.”
“What all happens in one of these meetings?” Bodvar asks.
“Just a lot of talk about trade, raiding, and food. Mostly arguing between Father and the Wolf Clan, and Kveldulf of the Giant Clan loves to join in on the arguments.”
“Giants? Like the ones who attacked us?” Bodvar asks.
“No, not nearly as tall. They’re much taller than most, but a little over half the size of those Giants from Jotunheim. The ones we call the Jotnar,” I tell them.
“What about the women of the Valkyrie?” Bodvar asks with a sly smile.
“Be careful around them, little brother. Beautiful they may be, they’re also deadly,” I say with a laugh.
“That we are,” a familiar voice says from behind. I turn to find Amalasontha with Amalgunda and their clan. “Bothvar, it is good to see you. You are collecting quite the titles, Bone Breaker, Shadow Killer, Friend of the Yeti, and now Giant Slayer.”
I shrug. “Those titles make a storm out of a raindrop. I did not do any of those alone, as you’re quite aware of, and they all exacted too high of a cost.”
“At least they didn’t inflate your head,” she says with a smile. Then she steps forward and embraces me. I return it in kind.
We break apart and meet each other’s eyes with smiles. “I hear that repairs in the village are nearly complete. I can now see your walls from across the bay. We will have to get the Builders over to Forsa so we are not in your shadow.”
“I would suggest talking with the dwarves before you proceed. There’s a metal in the mountains that not even the giants can break,” I say.
“Then we shall take your advice,” she says as my father, mother, and Sigvor walk up.
“Amalasontha and Amalgunda. It is a pleasure to see you both. Is the mother here as well?” mother asks.
“No, unfortunately, she decided to stay this time,” Amalgunda says as they all shake hands. “I would like to talk about a way to provide quick aid to each other’s defenses in the event the Jotnar return. We regret not being swift enough to help with the fighting.”
“Do not make regrets. You were plenty helpful with healing our people. We still consider ourselves in your debt,” mother says.
“But it would be wise to talk about a way to aid each other against invasions or raids,” father says with a nod.
“It is something I’d like to bring up in a meeting with the clan leaders. We could all benefit from a way to quickly come to each other’s aid during times of war,” Amalasontha says, brushing a line of her whitening golden hair out of her face. She stands just as tall as my father. She’s every bit a warrior I’ve come to honor.
Loud thumping is heard as a man as tall as two men walk over. If I had not fought the Jotnar, I’d think he is a giant, but now it just seems he’s just a really tall man. His beard is nearly as long as Bodvar is tall. “Aye, is that you, Beorcol, the Rider of Storms?”
My father steps up to the half-giant. “It is, Kveldulf, Wall Breaker.”
“It is good to see you again. It has been far too long. I long to fight once more by your side. And is this Amalasontha, Wind Stalker? It is, isn’t it? You all seem to have changed since we last met,” he says as he strokes his long black and gray peppered beard.
“I will never forget our victory in taking back Chillshore. You came soaring down from the mountains like an eagle with wings, little Valkyrie. And you, Rider of the Storm. It was as if the storm itself followed your ships into battle as you stormed the harbor. What a glorious battle it was,” the giant man says, clenching his fist in the air.
“It was indeed,” my father says.
“We gained much honor in that battle,” Amalasontha says. She gives him a wry smile.
“Aye, I’d welcome another war with the Southerners. The Tyrant King Vandil needs to pay for what he did to our King Teowulf. We should break him and his armies to pieces.”
“Perhaps,” father says, combing his fingers through his beard. “But the Southerners are not our only threats. We’ve been raided by the Jotnar Giants of Jotunheim. They’re a force to be reckoned with and are taller than you, my friend. They’re the height of these trees.”
“We will fight them as well. They might be taller, but we are fiercer,” Kveldulf says, beating his chest. “I’d love to test my strength against these invaders. They might be our distant relatives, but we are not the same. They have no honor.”
“For now, I believe they’ve only sent out raids. But I do believe they will return,” father says.
“I hope they do. I would like to face these so-called giants in battle and see who is the real giant,” he says.
“Be careful what you wish for, my friend,” Amalasontha says, eyeing the big, tall, mountain of a man. “You may get exactly that.”
My father grows silent as his eyes narrow. I follow his gaze to find the Wolf Clan arriving.
“Earl, Bjarni Vikarsson, it is always a pleasure,” Amalgunda says, stepping up to shake the elderly man’s hand, followed by Amalasontha.
“Likewise,” the bear of an old man says.
“Is it, though?” father asks.
“Maybe for some of us,” the old bear of a man says. His tall son is behind him, along with his daughter and both of their grandchildren. A tall, black-haired man with a look of steel and a red-haired woman with eyes of iron stand behind with expressions of ice. They could only be Baldric and Siv. The twin Wolves. The red and the night wolf. Next to them are two giant dire wolves. One with red auburn fur stands next to Siv, and the other with a midnight shade of black fur standing next to Baldric. Baldric wears a beard just as black as his hair that seems to match that of his wolf, while his sister wears hair like fire that is a bit brighter than her wolf. Their cousins stand next to them. Thorgrim, the oldest one with his wife. Asa, his younger sister. Thorhall and his wife. And lastly, Dalla and Gadaric, the two youngest of Vidkunn’s children.
“I don’t think it could ever be a pleasure for either of us,” father says with a bitter stain in his words.
“Only because the Krakens think they’re above the rest!” Vidkunn snaps.
“We don’t need to think about it. The Wolves were the ones who left. They’re the ones who continue to attack us out of fear. We only defend ourselves,” father says.
“Oh, that is a load of goat shit,” Bjarni says.
“You two tribes are like children fighting over a new shiny toy,” Amalgunda says.
“You should fight and get it over with,” the giant man says.
“We wouldn’t want to kill them before the meeting even starts,” Vidkunn says.
Father laughs. “We just got done killing Jotnar. What have you all done?”
Vidkunn huffs. “Bold words, but I’d bet on a Wolf ax over a Kraken’s poor excuse for a sword, any day. Besides, you’re not the only one who fought Jotnar. We also defeated the walking dead!“
Beorcol laughs. “Good tales by a Wolf. Always creating fantasy stories.”
Vidkunn growls, taking a step forward. “Want to prove those words, Kraken scum?”
“Vidkunn, now is not the time,” the old bear of a man who is the Wolf Clan’s Earl says.
“Father, this man insults us every time he steps in our presence. I should decorate the ground in his blood,” Vidkunn says with a growl.
My father laughs. “The only thing you’d decorate is my blade with your innards.”
“That’s enough. I’ll end you!” Vidkunn says, drawing his ax.
“Uncle, it is clear he is goading you, blinding you with anger so you fight him in a haze of rage and make mistakes. Do not be a fool,” the night Wolf says as he steps forward. He and his sister seem more dangerous than the rest. Oddly enough, they are also the most reasonable. I can hear their heartbeats distinctly from the rest. A slow drum compared to the fast angry beat Bjarni and Vidkunn have. These two are worthy adversaries and shouldn’t be taken lightly.
Vidkunn sniffs. “I’d rather form a square now and see whose words prove to have more truth to them.”
“Then let’s form the square, dog,” father says with a smirk. The Wolf Clan and Kraken Clan members force everyone back around the two men.
“Father, killing this man would not further our purpose or do us any favors. We’d only serve our real enemies by weakening each other,” I say.
“Are you going to hide behind your little pup?” Vidkunn asks.
Father only laughs. “You should be grateful to him. He was trying to spare your life.”
“Do you both seek death so desperately that you’ll meet it at the blade of a fellow Northerner?” A feminine voice says as a woman with snow white hair and eyes the color of blue ice steps into the square. Whispers wash upon the men and women. She has the hair of an elder, but her skin has the youth of a youngling. However, she stands with all the wisdom and confidence you can only have with age.
All the clan leaders, including my father and the Wolf Clan’s Earl, bow their heads to the woman. My father steps forward. “Lady Eawyn, it is an honor, as always.”
“Our honor is greater, Lady Eawyn,” Bjarni says. “We are always grateful for your wisdom.”
“It is always good to see you again, Earl Beorcol. And you, Earl Bjarni. And it is so good to see my good friends, Chieftesses Amalasontha and Amalgunda as well, and the Chief Kveldulf. All of you have been such loyal friends. I hate seeing such foolishness among people I am close to,” she says, as a woman a little younger than myself, who shares her snow-white hair and ice-cold blue eyes, steps up… “I also find it humorous that the sons seem to have more wisdom than the fathers. If anything, else, the future seems bright if we can only survive the foolishness of the current leaders.”
Both my father and the two Wolves seem to look away in shame, which is a first. Outside of my mother, I thought no one could make my father look like a scolded child. My father clamps his fist against his chest. “You are right. As always, your wisdom is much needed. Teowulf was wise to listen to you. May he feast in Valholl.”
“For once, we agree,” Bjarni says, throwing a tight-lipped, narrow-eyed glance at Beorcol before looking up at Eawyn with reverence. “You are the rightful Queen of this land and we will always come when you decide to take up the call once more.”
She bows her head to us all. “I am no longer queen, and nor will I ever be again. That time has passed. Besides, the prophecy does not speak of me, but of my daughter. That I am certain of. All I ask of you all is that when the time comes and she is ready to take the throne, you will follow her like you followed her father. Show her the same loyalty and respect you showed my beloved Teowulf and myself.”
“Without question. When the daughter of winter marches south, the Kraken Clan will follow,” my father says, dropping to one knee as I do the same along with our clan members.
The Valkyrie follow my father’s lead and drop to their knees. “As do the Valkyrie Clan.”
The Wolves, not wanting to be outdone, all drop to their knee before the white-haired girl. “The Wolves will always be loyal to the rightful Queen. The Queen of the North.”
Even the giant bends his knee. “As do the Giant Clan of the Mountain.”
All knees bend to a girl no older than me. Her face is stern and hard. She narrows her eyes at us all before she turns her back and walks away. Eawyn sighs, rubbing her head. “She is still young and bitter about her father’s death.”
“That is understandable. We are all still bitter about the death of our King,” father says, standing along with the rest of us. “But when she is ready, we will be too.”
“As we all will be,” Amalasontha says.
“She will be ready when the time comes. I have foreseen it,” Eawyn says.
“If I am not too bold, Lady Eawyn, perhaps it would be advantageous if she married a strong man to aid her in her journey,” my father says.
“I suppose you know exactly who she should wed?” Eawyn asks, with an amused smile. “I suppose, you’d claim your son Bothvar is such a man?”
“I can honestly say you’ll find no one more worthy,” my father says. Even though my chest swells with pride, there is no way I’d marry this woman or anyone else. My heart is no longer within my chest to give. It died with my beloved Arngunn, and now it is in her hands in the halls of the gods.
“I would argue differently,” Bjarni says, stepping forward. “My grandsons are twice the man that any Kraken whelp could be. Gadaric is too young, but Baldric has already proven himself a warrior second to none.”
Eawyn clasps her delicate chin and takes both me and the night Wolf in. “Yes, both Baldric and Bothvar would make worthy husbands. I’ve heard of both of your deeds. One who leads the Wolves and the other who is friends of the yeti. My daughter would be a lucky woman to marry either of them. However, she is to make her own choice about who she will make King to rule by her side. I have foreseen it. The man she will marry will not only be a long-lost kin, but an enemy as well. She will break the walls that separate us and unite us all under one hall. The north and the south will be one under a king and queen who come from the same kingdom, but fight for different people. That is what I have seen.”
“Then we will honor your wisdom,” my father says, clasping his hand to his chest and bowing his head. The rest agree. “Good. now why don’t you all settle in and make camp before our leaders meet to talk about the wellbeing of our people,” she says and walks away. We all go our separate ways and make camp.
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