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Bothvar Beorcolsson

She practically drags us out all the way through town as people wish us luck. She leads us all the way to the carved wooden altar of Fridgerd, the goddess of marriage, love, and fertility. The mother of the gods. There, our aunt, the wise one Sigvor, awaits along with our father. My mother pushes us forward to stand in front of them. Sigvor wears a very nice linen dress with her dark hair done in a braid. Her eyes show joy as her lips try to touch them in a smile full of warmth. She has on an elegant headdress with antlers decorated with flowers.

Sigvor smiles down at both of us from the altar. “Today is a day of celebration. We have come here to witness the union of brothers with sisters.”

For the love of the gods, when she says it like that, it makes it seem like I’m wedding my sister. “These two brothers bound in blood, the same blood that I share, have come here to forge an eternal bond between two sisters who are also bound in blood, uniting two families as one.”

She takes a step down so she is standing on our level and looks us both in our eyes. She turns to Thorkel first, taking his hands in hers. “Do you, Thorkel, son of Beorcol, come to bind your love with that of Asfrid, daughter of Hrut?”

“I do with all my love,” he says with a smile.

She nods and releases him before turning to me, taking my hands in her own. Her warm touch spreads through my own body. “And do you, Bothvar, son of Beorcol, come to bind your love with that of Arngunn daughter of Hrut?”

I nod over-enthusiastically. “I do with all my heart.”

My aunt’s smile widens. “Good. Now you two may join your father upon the altar.”

“Now bring out the brides to be,” she says as Thorkel and I take our place next to our father.

Thorkel and I wait with eagerness. It suddenly dawns on me how many people are here watching us as we stand at the altar on top of the hill in front of the mountains. Nearly every street is filled with people. All the way to the docks, people stand to watch. Not just people from our entire town, but leaders of other clans as well. I’m surprised to see that even the Earl and his family from the Wolf Clan have come. A man about my age catches my attention as his eyes meet mine. I can feel him sizing me up. He’s tall, with broad shoulders, hair that looks like the night, and a stare as cold as ice with eyes glimmering green. Next to him is a very beautiful woman the same age as him, with hair as red as fire and matching glistening green eyes. There’s no mistake about it, it’s the twins Baldric and Siv, grandchildren of Earl Bjarni. They’ve grown a bit since the All-Clan Meeting, where we tried to sneak up on their tribe, if that can be imagined. I still can’t figure out why there’s something so familiar about Baldric and Siv. I just have this nagging feeling we know each other. 

I tear my eyes away from them and see some familiar faces. The Valkyrie clan watches from the opposite side of the aisle. The War Chieftess, Amalasontha, stands as she acknowledges us with a nod of her head. Her eyes seem to pierce into me like they did when Thorkel, our friends, and I got caught on her land so long ago. Next to her is the smiling face of Tonna. She is beautiful, to say the least, with her long brown hair in elegant braids. Her face appears delicate but also has a sharpness to it. She gives us both a wave. I find myself smiling as I wave back. I will never forget the time she taught Thorkel, Vog, Solmund, and Griotgard how to fight with a staff. I wonder what Asfrid will think when she finds out she’s here. I remember quite clearly; she wasn’t very fond of her. Did she ever learn that we were spending time with her at the All-Clan Meeting? Next to her is another woman as old as Amalasontha, two younger women, and one that I recognize. I met her at the All-Clan Meeting. She’s the girl from the dock… What was her name… Almedha! She looks as beautiful as ever with braided brown hair and her smile. She gives me a nod and I return it.

My breath catches as our aunt Ingithora ushers out the two most beautiful women in all of Aratheon. One, in particular, I can’t look away from. Her face is veiled in a see-through sheen, but I can clearly make out every gorgeous detail of her beauty. Her eyes are as deep as the sea with a blue that makes all the sapphires in the world seem dull. Her golden blonde hair is swirled up in a bun with flowers and lacy pink ribbons wrapped and decorated in it.

Her dress is a pure white of the finest linen. It’s even got a red silk belt wrapped around her slim waist that contrasts with the deep blue silk belt wrapped around Asfrid. My mother rarely ever parts with her silk. It tells me how much she really likes the two.

Arngunn’s smooth creamy skin shows the touch of sun with a golden glisten. When her eyes meet mine, it feels as if we are the only two people here. The rest of the world seems to fade away. And when she bites her lip, a fire burns inside of me.

They are brought in front of Sigvor. “Asfrid and Arngunn, daughters of the late beloved Hrut who is now feasting in Valholl with his beloved wife, Grimhild. You have come to intertwine your fates with Thorkel and Bothvar, sons of Earl Beorcol, and my sister Thorkatla Alvisdottir. Since both of your parents have passed away, Thorkatla, the mother of Bothvar and Thorkel, and Earl Beorcol, their father, have taken both of you in and adopted you. Thorkatla is here to give their hands away in marriage.”

Our mother steps forward and takes both of their hands in hers. “Thorkatla, do you hereby pass over their hands in marriage to Thorkel and Bothvar?”

“I do,” mother says.

Sigvor looks at Arni and Asfrid. “Asfrid and Arngunn, daughters of Hrut, do you two vow to love and care for Thorkel and Bothvar, sons of Beorcol, until your last voyage to the halls of the gods?”

Both women nod. “We do.”

Sigvor then turns to us. “Do you, Thorkel and Bothvar, take Asfrid and Arngunn’s hands in marriage, to protect and love until your last voyage to the halls of the gods?”

“We do,” we both say in unison.

“You may take their hands.”

Thorkel and I step down as our mother holds their hands up for us and we take them in our own. The warmth of Arngunn’s hand within mine makes my soul come alive. Her skin is as soft as the silk she wears around her waist. We all take a step up to the altar.

“Bring the sacrifice,” Sigvor says.

A goat is brought forward. Sigvor steps up to the altar and grabs a knife and a bowl. She steps down to the slave holding the goat and places the bowl underneath its neck. “With this sacrifice, we seek the God Fridgerd’s blessing upon these sacred unions of marriage so that they may prosper with good fortune and bear many children.”

With a sharp cry from the goat, she slits its throat. Blood sprays out and spills into the bowl, and the goat flops down onto the floor. She takes the bowl, walks up to the altar, and mixes different herbs within the bowl before placing it in Fridgerd’s open hands. Then she chants in the old tongue. Words I cannot understand.

Suddenly, a light shines down on the bowl so bright it nearly blinds us. Gasps are heard throughout the crowd. And then it’s gone. It takes several moments to be able to see.

Sigvor turns around so quickly it causes Arngunn to squeeze my hand. She looks hard at the four of us as if she cannot decide what to do. “I have just had a vision.”

Our father steps forward. “What did you see?”

“A daughter… A Daughter of the Sea will be born from the consummation of tonight. She’ll bring…”

I hear her mumble war and death under her breath as she stares off into the sea. Whose daughter? Ours? Thorkel’s? What could she possibly mean?

She shakes her head and rubs the dip between her eyes. “Where was I?”

She looks over at the bowl. “Right… It seems Fridgerd has put her blessing upon these two marriages.”

She grabs the bowl from the hands of the statue of the goddess. Then she dips a brush and she gasps. That’s when I see it. The bowl that was filled with goat’s blood instead has a golden liquid within it. She looks up at us. “Fridgerd has truly shined upon you.”

She dips the brush into the golden liquid and splashes it upon each of us. It burns, but it doesn’t hurt. It feels as if it washes through me.

“With that, the ritual is complete,” she says wearily. Her eyes searching us for answers.

“I think this means it is my turn now,” our father says as he steps up, hesitantly.

“Ri… right,” Sigvor says as she steps aside without taking her eyes off of us.

“Now, bring us the swords and rings. I promise, there will be no surprises with my part,” he says, getting a reluctant laugh from the crowd. He gives a half-hearted smile and quickly runs a hand through his now braided hair that is showing the first signs of gray.

My brothers and sister, along with Koll Alriksson’s youngest daughter, all walk forward. My brothers carrying swords and the girls carrying the rings.

They hand each of us a ring and a sword. We place the ring upon the sword. My father looks at us all. “Thorkel, Bothvar, you both hold two swords that have been passed down from father to son. They hold the protection of our ancestors all the way from the great Bjorn himself who discovered this world.”

I hear a mutter from Vidkunn Bjarnisson of the Wolf tribe, which also catches my father’s eye and earns a smirk from him.

He turns to the women. “The sword you hold into your hands is forged anew with my blessing. Hrut was a good friend of mine and as close a brother as one gets. I know these swords have his protection and mine.”

He smiles down at us and turns his gaze to my brother. “Thorkel, my son. Do you swear to the gods that you want to marry Asfrid, daughter to Hrut?”

“I do more than anything,” he says.

He then turns to me. “And you, Bothvar, my son. Do you swear to the gods that you want to marry Arngunn, daughter to Hrut?”

“I do with all my heart,” I say, earning a nod from my father.

His gaze turns to Asfrid. “Asfrid, daughter of Hrut, do you swear to the gods that you want to marry, Thorkel, my son?”

“I swear I do,” she says, biting her lip.

My father smiles at her before turning to my soon-to-be wife. “And lastly, you, Arngunn, daughter to the great and late Hrut, my dear friend. Do you swear to the gods that you want to marry my son, Bothvar?”

“I want to marry him as much as I want to breathe,” she says.

“I’ll take that as an I do,” my father says, earning a few chuckles from the crowd. He smiles at that as his eyes shift up to them. “Well, who would have thought these four would marry each other?”

The villagers of our town roar in laughter. “I definitely wouldn’t have bet against it. Now. With the sacrifice made and the vows said, I proudly announce you all as married. Exchange the rings and one more thing for my sons.”

We exchange the rings on the tips of the swords, place them on our fingers, and look up at my father. “For the love of the gods, kiss your brides.” More laughter from the crowd as I wrap my arms around my wife and kiss her deeply, lifting her up off the ground. She is my wife!

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Bothvar Beorcolsson

“For the love of the gods, do you remember as younglings when we used to come here all the time to try to lift that hammer?” Thorkel asks as we enter the cave together. This time, we’re much older than we used to be. Father is retired from raids, and now Thorkel is captain and raid leader. It’s crazy to think about how things have changed. After winter passes, I will become a man and I can finally join my brother out on raids. To say I’m nervous would be like calling a thunderstorm a sprinkle. I’m terrified. But that is tomorrow’s problem. I cannot worry about tomorrow’s problem when today I can rejoice.

Today, my brother and I will get married. To say it like that sounds just wrong. My brother is marrying Asfrid and I will marry Arngunn. Not a person in our village is surprised by this. We’ve been all but inseparable since we were just little younglings. My brother and Asfrid only waited so long so that we could all be wedded on the same day and share our joy. And I am definitely nervous.

“Relax,” Thorkel says. “You look as strung up as a drawn bowstring.”

“How can you be so calm when we’re about to be married men? This… This is… This is the most important day of our lives. This is the day we will be wedded to the women that we love. That will bear our children.”

“Brother… You are making war out of a dispute.”

“I am not. Why would I want to make war? That’s not what I want.”

Thorkel only drags his hand down his face, yanking at his braided blonde beard. “You’re making this more than it needs to be. Nothing will change for the most part. You already spend most days with Arni as it is. There is no need to make yourself worry.”

“But it is a big deal. She will be my wife. That means we can have children, right? What if I am not a good father? What then? What if my son thinks I’m not a good warrior?”

Thorkel shakes his head before he walks up to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. I stare into his blue eyes that are just like mine and our father’s. His blonde hair has grown long. “You need to believe in yourself more. That’s your problem. You are so filled with doubt that you do not think you are capable of anything. And you spend too much time thinking about what you will do wrong. Stop thinking about what could happen in the future. Spend more time thinking about what you need to do to become a good father and a good warrior. That is how you need to think. But at some point, you’ll need to stop thinking and start doing. It is one thing to think about what you need and another thing to do it. That is what father taught me, and something you still need to learn.”

“I wish I got to spend more time with father.” I look up at the hammer, still sitting there with its gold trim and words no one can read. It hasn’t aged or even gained a spec of dirt on it.

“You will. It is good most of the time. He can be a real bastard at times, but even then, you’ll realize it’s all a lesson. It always is with him. He’ll groom you into what he wants you to be. The man is as sharp as a freshly made battle ax by the grumpy old dwarf.”

“Of course, he is, that’s why his name will always be remembered in history, and so will yours and probably the old grumpy dwarf,” I say, getting a laugh from my brother.

He squeezes my shoulder. “Yours will too if you can believe in yourself.”

He lets go and walks over to the hammer and gives it one more tug to no avail. “It was worth a try. It seems no matter how strong I get; I still can’t lift the damn thing. Are you ever going to give it a try?”

I shrug. “Ehh. Even with the hammer, I doubt I could ever be as good a warrior as you.”

His face goes stale. “That’s because you never try.”

“We figured you two would be here,” a warm, familiar feminine voice echoes out.

Both Thorkel and I look up to find Asfrid and Arngunn walking in. Asfrid smiles as she walks up to the hammer. “It feels like it was not that long ago we were here as younglings. Remember the time your mother and Sigvor caught us fighting with Gorm and his henchmen?”

“How could I forget?” Thorkel asks as he looks at her with a smirk. “Our mother had us doing slave work until father came home. But at least we gave Grom a good arse kicking.”

Arngunn’s smile warms my heart and is the reason it beats. I take her hand and gently squeeze it. “That day was not my finest moment. I stood like a coward while you all fought.”

Arngunn’s smile vanishes as she looks at me with confusion. “That is not how I remember it. You protected me while I hid behind you. I was the coward.”

“That’s not true. You were only a little girl, there wasn’t much you could do. But I let my brother, Solmund, and Griotgard fight an unfair battle without aiding them.”

“Ehh, don’t turn a raindrop into a thunderstorm,” Thorkel says waving us off with his hand. “We were children. Besides, Skardi was the fool on the ground laughing. Although I’m still not entirely sure it was these mushrooms. I’m starting to believe that’s just who he is.”

Asfrid laughs. “He is definitely a few arrows short of a full quiver, but that’s why we love him. He’s mad for sure, but a genius in his own right.”

“Yes, I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Thorkel smiles at her.

“Why did you two come up all this way? Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see your betrothed before the ceremony? Our marriage is sure to have bad luck now,” I say.

“Oh, don’t be so superstitious. It won’t change anything. We’ll still be together no matter what. It was fated by the gods,” Arngunn says as she puts her warm hand against my cheek. I hold it there.

“You know, I’ve read many books since coming here as children and I still haven’t discovered what these runes mean,” Asfrid says as she kneels by the hammer, taking a closer look at its inscription.

Thorkel shrugs. “It’s just words. What significance could words have anyway?”

Asfrid only shakes her head. “One day your lack of knowledge will hurt you. I just hope I can make you see the error of your ways before that day comes.”

He laughs as he pulls her into his arms. “I will not stop you from trying.”

We ignore them as Arni and I both brush strings of hair out of each other’s faces. She leans in and our lips touch. Her kiss is as sweet as ripe summer berries.

“Are you four going to miss your own wedding day?” All four of us break apart as Skardi, Solmund, and Griotgard walk in. “Thorkel, Bothvar, your mother is about ready to commit murder. She already threatened to turn us all into pigs if we do not get you four down there to get ready.”

“He’s not jesting. I saw her toss a mug of mead at your father. He’s now hiding in his ship. Your mother scares me. Can she really turn us into pigs?” Griotgard asks.

“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t doubt it. I’ve seen her do stranger things,” Thorkel says with a visible tremble. “We better go. I do not want to incur her wrath.”

“Do you think we can do magic? We are her children after all. We did come out of her womb. You’d think we’d be able to do a little bit,” I ask as we hurry down the slope of the mountain and rush back through the gate.

Thorkel only shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t even want to try.”

There’s no sneaking back into town as our mother is on us like an eagle diving down on its prey from the sky. “Where have you four been? We have been working tirelessly to prepare such a special day and you four disappear on us!”

She looks at Asfrid and Arngunn. “I’m not mad at you two, only these halfwits. But still, it is bad luck to see your betrothed before the ceremony. Why don’t you both go find my sister Sigvor and the rest of the women? They’ll get you all ready for the ceremony.”

She turns on us with a finger out. “And you two. You are lucky you are now men, even though you seem to behave otherwise, or I would have you doing slave work for the foreseeable future! I had torn apart half the town looking for you two. Don’t you dare say a word. Just because you are men doesn’t mean I can’t tan your hide like I once did when you were boys. Today of all days you have to wander off. You two are just like your father. Always getting into trouble. I swear to the gods, you two will be the death of me. Thank the gods Thormar is nothing like you two. I hope and pray Svala and Bodvar don’t grow to behave like the both of you. Now come on. You both need a bath and something needs to be done about your hair!”

She practically drags us by our beards before tossing us into the hall. If we had an army of women like her, we’d be unbeatable. My mother’s servants attack us, forcing us into the bathhouse, scrubbing the filth off us and doing up our hair while mother has us dress in proper linens. She even puts some gooey stuff in our hair to make it look slick and practically gives us a second bath in these strong-smelling oils that smell like the forest.

Then she examines us with a fine-tooth comb, straightening wrinkles, licking her thumb to swipe our eyebrows, and dusting off our shoulders until she’s satisfied with how we look. Then the strangest thing happens. Her entire face contorts as tears stream down from her eyes and she pulls us both in a hug tight enough to put a bear to shame. Women are truly strange creatures. “Oh, my boys. You’ve grown up so fast. Where did all the time go? You’re getting married. Oh, for the love of the gods, you’re finally tying the knot. You could not have picked two finer girls than Asfrid and Arngunn. The gods must have written it in the stars; you four were born to be together. I’m so happy to finally see this day. Oh, I’m just sad it came so soon. One minute you were babies, and now you’re both full-grown men.”

She sighs as she grabs a cloth to wipe her eyes. And just like that, she’s back to being the woman I know as she jams her finger into both of our chests. “Don’t you go screwing this up? This will be the best thing to happen to you until you have children of your own. And the gods know more than any that you two need a good woman to keep you out of trouble. Even so, it hasn’t done your father much good. Where is he, anyway? You both stay right here. I swear to the gods if I come back and you’re both missing, you’ll wish I tanned your hides.”

She storms out like a gust of wind from the north. “Psst. Psst.”

Thorkel and I trade looks. “You heard that, right?”

He nods. We look around. “Psst.”

That’s when I see our father poke his head out from behind the hallway to the barn. “Is it safe to come out? Is she gone?”

I fight the laughter trying to force its way out and nod. He relaxes as he walks into the hall, straightening his fine linen clothing before he eyes us, stroking his long, dirty blonde beard. His blue eyes seem to see right through us. “Thank the gods. I truly thought she was going to turn me into a pig. I know she can. I’ve seen her do it. The woman can be completely mad sometimes. I love her, but she is one of the few things I am truly afraid of, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll fear your wives as well. Now come here, you two. I’ve got something I want to tell you.”

We both walk up to him as he puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “You’re men now. About to be married men at that. I’m proud of you both. Many people think to be a true Viking is to be a fearless warrior who raids and fights to earn his spot in Valholl. That is certainly true. But a true Viking is also a good husband. At least as good as he can be. Sometimes it can be really difficult. Especially when your wife threatens to turn you into a pig and she has the power to do so.”

He quickly looks around, an instant of fear in his eyes. It is an absurd thing to see one of the bravest warriors I have ever known cower in fear of his own wife. Even so, I don’t lose any respect for my father because I know that fear all too well. It is a confusing fear. Even though I fear the woman, I love her with all my heart.

“As I was saying, being a Viking is more than being a sea warrior, or a husband for that matter. You have to be a father. There is no more important task in being a member of the Kraken clan than carrying on our legacy through your children. I know, I haven’t always been present in your lives. Especially you, Bothvar, but if you learn anything from me, learn what I have just told you. Take care of your family. Take care of your wife and the children she gives you. Protect them with your own life if the gods require it. And for the love of the gods, do what you can to avoid angering your wife. It is an impossible task and you will fail at it. Trust me, I know this to be true, but try, nonetheless. Do this, and you will always have my pride. My love is already and always will be yours,” he says as he looks us both in the eyes. It always feels as if those eyes see everything. “Now come here.”

He grabs both of our heads and pulls us in for a hug. “This day is a day for praise and celebration. Enjoy it. For this is the last day of your freedom.”

We both pull back and look at him with a fair bit of caution, but before we can say anything mother barges in, and father’s eyes go wide with a moment of fear. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! How is the feast coming along? Do we have enough food for everyone? Did you prepare for a sacrifice as I asked you to? What about the sacred artifacts for the ritual of marriage? My sister is already set to perform the ritual to bind them in marriage. For the sake of the gods, Beorcol, do something about your hair and that wild mess of a beard. This is a very important day and you look like a raggedy vagabond.”

“For the sake of the gods, woman, one at a time! The feast is well on its way to being ready. I’ve got three pigs, a bull, six chickens, and a bear we managed to hunt being cooked as we speak. We got enough food to feed the town twice over. And remind me what the other things were again.”

Thorkel and I can hardly hold in our laughter. Father gives us a cold stare. “Just you two wait. You’ll experience this soon enough.”

Just then, Bodvar and Svala rush in with Thormar on their heels and the dog, Ruffles, dashing in behind. “Slow down! I swear to the gods if you mess the hall up, you’ll be in a world of hurt.”

I still can barely fathom how old they’ve all gotten. Thormar is now as old as I was when Thorkel went out on his first raid with Father and Svala’s not far behind. Bodvar has gotten big as well. He’s now as old as Thorkel was back when we discovered that hammer. These days seem to go by far too fast.

My mother’s glare turns back on my father. “I was saying, have you gotten everything needed for the ritual? Sigvor gave you a list.”

“Ahh, yes, I got it all. Don’t worry. Oh, and Kadal and his wife, Ulfeid, along with their children are here, and Eawyn, Teowulf’s widow, is here with her daughter… Scyra, I think her name is. And the Valkyrie tribe is here. The three chieftesses, Dasyra Ragnarsdóttir, Amalgunda, and Amalasontha, have also arrived with their kin. I still don’t understand why the women need three chieftesses. Makes little sense to me. Is that all?” my father asks.

My mother’s eyes go as wide as rubies as she attacks my father’s beard and hair. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Have they been properly greeted and welcomed? Has anyone else arrived? What about Trefor from the Builder’s Clan? And Thorweald of the Eagle Clan? I doubt he’ll come though, because the Eagles rarely ever show up to anything. I will warn you; I sent out invitations to Bjarni and the Wolf Clan, but I don’t think they will come.”

Father’s eyes got even wider than mother’s. “Are you crazy, woman? Why would you invite those bastards from the Wolf Clan? You can’t trust a Wolf. They’ll only cause trouble. They’re treacherous. If it wasn’t for King Teowulf, may he feast in Valholl, I would’ve killed them all. And for the sake of the gods, stop tugging!”

“It was the right thing to do for such an occasion like this. At least we can say we tried. Now, hold still! This beard isn’t even fit to nest a bird. Why didn’t you have it braided as I asked? Come. I’ll have one of the slaves do it,” she says as she literally drags him by the beard.

“I hope that isn’t something we have to look forward to,” Thorkel says, wide-eyed.

“I don’t think so. Asfrid and Arni are nothing like our mother. Right?” I look up to him for reassurance and find none.

He only shrugs. “At least they can’t do magic.”

We both chuckle, but I stop short. What if they can do magic? “Right… I mean. They can’t do magic, right? I’ve never seen them do magic. Have you?”

“I don’t even know how one does magic. I mean, when mother does it, I do feel something. I don’t know what, but it’s there. But I still have no idea what she is doing. Ehh… Who needs magic anyway?” he says as he runs his hands through his slick, braided hair.

Svala and Bothvar come running back with Ruffles at their feet and Thormar chasing after them. Thorkel grabs Bodvar and Svala by the collars of their tunics. “Better stop playing. You don’t want to get mother madder than she already is.”

“Yeah, he’s right for once. Now give me back my compass!” Thormar says. I just noticed the scruff growing on his face. Thorkel waves his hand at the two and Bodvar finally pulls out the compass from around his neck and gives it to Thorkel, who hands it to Thormar.

“I see someone growing some pig hair,” I say, and Thorkel bursts out laughing.

Thormar quickly rubs his face as it turns bright red. “It’s just the start. One day I’ll have a beard better than both of yours.”

“I’m glad I won’t get a beard. Why do you even want hair on your face?” Svala asks.

“It keeps your face warm during winter and out on the sea,” Thorkel says.

“Will I grow a beard?” Bodvar asks as he rubs his face.

“I’m not so sure about you. Only real Viking men grow beards. Do you think you’re tough enough?” Thorkel asks as he squats down to Bodvar’s level.

Bodvar puffs out his chest and beats a fist against it. “I am tough enough. Yesterday, I mounted the bull and rode him for five full breaths before he bucked me off.”

Thorkel bellows a laugh. “You might just prove to be Viking yet.”

“He reminds me of you,” I say, slapping his back. “Don’t let mother find out you did that or she’ll have you cleaning up pig shit for the rest of the summer.”

“Oh, for the love of the gods, he’s right. Bothvar and I have spent many days cleaning pig shit for the trouble we got into!” Thorkel spits out, laughing.

“That is gross. I’m glad I don’t have to do that. Mother’s been forcing me to train with Aunty Sigvor to become a wise one, but I don’t want to. I want to be a shield maiden. If you tell anyone, I will put a dead fish under your bed, but father has given me a few lessons in private. It’s a secret,” Svala says.

“Oh, is that so? Well, I suppose I won’t tell anyone,” Thorkel says, shrugging.

Svala glares at him. “I will have Ruffles shit on your pillow if you utter one word about it to mother!”

We all laugh. Thorkel’s face grows still. “Did you really teach him to do that?”

Svala only smirks. “You won’t want to find out for sure. Besides, I want to be just like Aunty Ingithora. She goes out to sea with uncle Koll and fights beside him. I heard she cut a man’s head off who tried to attack uncle Koll. She’s a true warrior!” Svala puffs out her chest and pretends to be just like her.

“What about me? Don’t you want to be like me? Aren’t I a true warrior?” Thorkel asks, sticking out his bottom lip.

“Yes, but you’re a man. I don’t want to be a man. I want to be a woman. A shield maiden. And a sea navigator like Aunty Ingithora. I heard she can see the land from the other side of the sea!” She claims.

“I don’t know about that, but I’m sure if you work hard enough you can become a warrior just like her,” I say, scuffing up her hair. She smacks my hand away. “Maybe you should ask her to teach you how to navigate the sea.”

“I have and she is.” Her eyes go wide as her hands clamp against her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that. It was supposed to be a secret.”

We all laugh. This time, Thorkel messes her hair up. “Don’t worry little sister, your secret is safe with us.”

“I want to be like father, uncle Koll, great uncle Alvi, and Aldam. Aldam’s so strong he can shatter a boulder with a swing of his hammer. I saw him do it,” Bodvar says as he imitates him. “That’s why I collect hammers, because I want to be as strong as him.”

Thorkel just smirks. “Is that so? You really think you can be as strong as him?”

He flexes his muscles to show us. “I’ll be so strong; you bloody goat turds won’t be able to beat me.”

We all laugh as Bodvar crosses his hands against his chest. “You are a bunch of arselickers with cowpies for brains.”

That only makes us laugh even harder.

“You know, in two summers, I will be old enough to go with you both on sea raids,” Thormar declares.

“Is that so?” Thorkel asks as he brings his hand up to his beard to stroke it and his eyes narrow to consider Thormar.

“It is so. I’ll become a man and I’ll get married too,” he says in all surety.

“Well, age isn’t the only thing that determines if you’re able to raid or not. You have to be brave, capable, and competent. Are you those things?” Thorkel asks.

“Well… Yeah. I think so,” Thormar says as he runs a hand through his blonde hair. The back is completely shaved while Thorkel and I have our sides shaved and the tops long with the hair braided in typical Viking fashion.

“What does it mean to be competent?” Bodvar asks.

Thorkel and I chuckle.

“I’m competent. Does that mean I can raid?” Svala asks.

“You don’t even know what that means either,” Bodvar says as he kicks the back of her knee, making it buckle.

She turns to him and gives him a good kick in the shin, which earns a loud cry from him as he hobbles on one foot, holding his leg. “What in the name of Hel did you do that for?”

“Because you deserved it,” she says, folding her arms against her chest and sticking her tongue out at him.

Bodvar goes to kick her right back, but she dodges out of the way and sticks her tongue at him again.

“Who are you going to marry, Thormar?” Thorkel asks with a devious grin.

“I don’t know yet, but whoever she will be, she’ll be a shield maiden,” Thormar declares, beating his chest. “A smart one at that, like Aunty Ingithora.”

“I want to marry Greiland Kollsdottir. She’s a shield maiden, and she’s got a big butt,” Bodvar says. Thorkel and I nearly keel over with laughter. Bodvar tilts his head at us. “What? What is so funny?”

“Nothing, little brother, nothing at all,” Thorkel says, patting his shoulder.

Our great uncle Alvi pops in with Gudrod behind him. Gudrod is all smiles as he walks up to us. “Hey, Thorkel! Hey, Bothvar! I can’t believe you are both going to get married, although I’m not surprised it’s to Asfrid and Arngunn. Are you guys nervous?”

“Of course not,” Thorkel says with a smile, puffing out his chest.

“Speak for yourself,” I mumble under my breath.

“I would be. Do you guys need any help with anything?” the boy asks with so much enthusiasm.

“I think we’re all good, Gudrod. But thank you for asking,” I say.

“Well, you boys have grown up right before my very eyes. I could not be prouder,” great uncle Alvi says. “I swear to the gods, I blink and you go from a couple of knuckleheads who constantly get in trouble to full-grown men. Time stops for no one.”

“You can say that again,” Thorkel says, scratching his beard.

“Well, we just came to congratulate you two. It couldn’t have been a more perfect pairing,” Uncle Alvi says with a smile. “Just remember, a happy wife makes a happy life. Cherish the time you spend with them; you never know what moment will be your last. Trust me, I’m an old man who’s lived it all.”

“We will take your word for it, uncle,” Thorkel says, patting him on the shoulder. But uncle pulls us both into a great big hug.

Then Thormar pesters him with more questions about his journeys. Especially west. Great Uncle Alvi, along with my father, are some of the few Vikings who journeyed west and lived to tell about the tale. Of course, this was long before they were betrayed by my uncle Borgar.

Just then, my father’s long-time friend, Koll Alriksson, the husband of my mother’s sister, Ingithora Alvisdottir, walks in with her by his side. His other two wives must be with our betrothed. With him is their eldest, Veleif, who is much older than Thorkel by several cycles, along with the second eldest son, Svafar, who is just a few cycles older than Thorkel, and Saxi, who’s also older than Thorkel. Gilli and Tyrkir bring up the rear. Gilli is Thorkel’s age, while Tyrkir is my age. The five daughters and the wives of the sons must be with Koll’s other wives. I just noticed Starolf Saxison, Gudrik Svafarson, and Hunbogi Veleifson walk in behind. All three are Thormar’s age. Their family is enormous enough to man Koll’s ship without the aid of outsiders. That in itself makes Koll’s family one of the wealthiest aside from our own. It helps when you don’t have to cut your profits to your crew when they are all your children or your children’s children. I couldn’t imagine having three wives, especially seeing what my own father has to deal with. Koll is a patient man.

“It is good to see you all on this fine day, my nephews and my little niece,” Aunt Ingithora says with a smile as she bends down and pulls my little brother Bodvar and Svala into a hug. She has her silky brown hair braided immaculately. Her eyes seem to shimmer blue. “You two are getting bigger every time I see you.”

“We saw each other yesterday,” Svala says. She tosses her blonde hair back.

“And yet it seems like you’ve grown at least a finger taller. You’ll be a shield maiden yet,” Aunty says. Svala’s eyes go wide with a smile, but she quickly puts a finger to her lips. Ingithora smiles and winks at her. “Don’t worry, it is still our secret.”

Koll steps up to Thorkel and me and pats us both on the shoulders. His black beard has grown a little gray. “I cannot say I’m surprised to see you both tying yourselves to Hrut’s daughters. May he feast in Valholl. You’ve been tied to them since the day any of you could walk. Hrut was a dear friend of mine and your father, and I know the man would be proud to give you his daughters’ hands in marriage. He always knew only the strongest of Krakens would marry his daughters, and he was not wrong. You two will grow to give your father a run for his coin.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to us,” Thorkel says with a nod. “Living up to our father will certainly be a large shield to pick up.”

“And there’s no one better to do that than the two of you. Fighters from the day you fell out of the womb. Can’t say I’m surprised with the womb you came out of. That woman makes a bear seem tame,” he says with a chuckle. Ingithora punches him on the shoulder. He feigns being hurt. ”What was that for?”

“That is my sister you’re talking about,” she says with eyes full of fire. And I can definitely see the resemblance when she has that look. The same flame my mother burns in her own eyes when she’s mad. But Ingithora is a bit younger and far less temperamental. She turns to us and covers her mouth from Koll. “She does have a bit of a nasty temper, though. I’ve been at the wrong end of it far too many times.”

“You’re telling us. She nearly hung us up by our ankles on our own wedding day,” Thorkel says with a laugh as he scratches the back of his neck. I laugh reluctantly. I swear the woman knows when you’re talking about her. “Can she really turn us into pigs?”

“Ahh, there you are, sister,” my mother says as she walks in. Ingithora gives us a silent nod, making us all go as stiff as a trunk. “I’m sure you aren’t talking about me now, are you?”

See? It must be some kind of magic. Even Koll’s eyes are as large as a gold coin. Ingithora just smiles. “Of course not. You always think everything is about you. We were just giving your sons some tips on how to maintain a good marriage. That is all.”

“Okay. Well, come. Sigvor needs your help,” she says as she grabs Ingithora’s arm and practically drags her out of the hall.

“Your mother must have hearing like a hare,” Koll says. The man has always been a hero to me. He’s a tall man with broad shoulders. He keeps his hair cut short with a neatly trimmed beard that’s showing specks of gray. But even he shows fear of my mother and her sisters.

“I think it’s just when her name is spoken. Some kind of magic or something,” Thorkel says, pulling at the collar of his tunic.

“Yeah, that could be it.” He strokes his beard in consideration.

“So, are you two nervous? I was certainly nervous when I married Halldora and Thorballa. But I really didn’t have a choice. The Cnut Daughters were going to marry me whether I liked it or not. Thankfully, I liked it,” Veleif says. He has Koll’s black hair with a short goatee and a mustache. He’s just as tall as Koll and has the same build. Basically, a miniature Koll. Just one wife shy.

“I sure am. Especially after seeing how my mother is always bossing my father around. Is that what we have to look forward to?” I ask.

“I’m afraid so,” Koll says with a laugh. “It gets worse when you marry more than one. They seem to gang up on you and you have nowhere to run. I can’t even raid anymore without one of them coming with me. I swear they always have an eye on me.”

“Speaking of raiding, Koll. I’ve wanted to talk to you about something. Why has no one ever sailed beyond the Dead Sea? Beyond the Elven Woods. Thormar has a bunch of maps of islands farther west with Southern Pirates. Could there be more plunder there?” Thorkel asks.

“That’s what I have been saying!” Thormar says, flinging his hands in the air.

“Your father and I discussed this many times. South may be our familiar hunting grounds, but we both agree west might hold more opportunity. However, there are far more dangers to the west. You know why we call ourselves the Kraken clan?” Koll asks as Thorkel shrugs and I shake my head no. “Because it is real. A monster unlike any you’ve ever seen. It stalks the waters out to the northwest. I’ve seen it myself take down a ship. Long tentacles that can reach taller than our masts. I’ve seen it drag ships down under. That’s not the only danger out there, nor the only monster. There’s a monster that can suck the water into what looks like a whirlpool, but don’t be deceived. If you get close enough, you’ll see its teeth rise out of the water like shark fins. It has long tentacles that snare you and drag you into its gaping maw that leads into the abyss. They call it the Charybdis. The only problem is that it’s between a pass, and the only way around it is to sail near a different monster with multiple heads. Some call it a Scylla. If you get past them, you’ll have to fight off the Merrow.”

“The Merrow?” Thormar asks, narrowing his eyes. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“It’s good you haven’t, boy. They’re people of the sea, like mermaids but far more vicious. They’ll attack anything that comes into their waters. I’ve heard they eat the flesh of their victims. No one knows for sure because no one has fought them and lived to tell the tale,” he says.

“Then how do we know about them?” I ask.

“That is a good question, isn’t it? Well, my father was sailing out to raid when he saw the Merrow attack a ship in front of him. They killed everyone on board. Fortunately, my father’s ship turned tail and ran. Everyone on the ship will give you the same story. These Merrow… uh… fish people swarmed the ship and attacked like rabid dogs. And those aren’t the only things you have to worry about. There are lots of those Southern Pirates you have to fight. And then there’re the elves. They call themselves the Golden High Elf Trading Company and have a fleet of ships dedicated to capturing and killing pirates. They link us in with them for good reason. I’ve heard other tales of even more things under the sea. Like sea wizards that are also like mermaids. And mermaids themselves. Plus, the Cirein-croin among others we haven’t even discovered yet. I’ve even heard tales of a creature called the Leviathan and a turtle as big as an island named Mackinaw.”

“What if we stay closer to the shoreline? Surely the Merrow won’t come that close,” Thorkel asks.

“Perhaps. Then what about the elves?” he asks.

“We’ll take them as slaves,” Thorkel says.

“That is easier said than done. Trust me. But I think it’s possible to go west and avoid these dangers. I certainly wanted to try in my youth. Still do. Perhaps you could be right. Maybe if we sail with the shoreline in sight, we might be able to avoid the dangers of the sea monsters and the Merrow. Perhaps,” he says as he runs his fingers through his beard. “I’ll have to talk to your aunt and your father about such things.”

Thorkel nods. Koll puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “We will see. Anyhow, we just came to wish you good fortune before the ceremony. We’ll talk about this later. Okay?”

Thorkel nods. Koll clasps our arms one after another before he leaves. Veleif gives us both a pat on the shoulder. Saxi and Svafar do the same. Gili and Tyrkir each pull us into bear hugs. Starolf, Gudrik, and Hunbogi all give nods. Then Starolf and Gudrik clasp Thormar’s hand before they leave.

Aldam Bronzehammer comes in with two boxes. He’s no taller than half a man, but stronger than five at the very least. Our people have a great deal of respect for dwarves. There are no finer craftsmen, and they are fierce warriors. “Well, kiss a ram’s ass and call me an elf. I never thought you two arsefaces would finally find enough sense to settle down, even though you and those girls are practically attached to the hip.”

The old dwarf always had a way with words, and he pulls laughs out of us. Especially our little siblings. Svala most of all. “They are definitely arsefaces.”

Aldam laughs. “You’ve always been my favorite, Svala. These idiots have brains made out of pig shit, but yours is pure gold.”

“Hey, are we not your best apprentices?” Thorkel asks, acting offended.

“Ehh, you’re not my worst. I’ll admit, you all have proven to be not total troll shit with a hammer, and your work isn’t complete garbage. Not like some people I’ve seen banging on an anvil. Let me tell ya, and I’ve seen some goblin piss excuses for blacksmiths. Especially with you humans. Even some dwarves need to take the hammer out of their arses. You should see some of those Southern goat humpers. They couldn’t tell the head of the hammer from the grip. Bloody bunch of slags, the lot of ’em. Although I heard from my mother and father that the little princeling might have some potential. He’s training with them and my cousin Prince Borlann Ironhammer. Apparently, he’s not a total royal snob.”

“You speak highly of a Southern prince? Surely, he’s nothing but a swine fucker,’ Thorkel says with clear disdain.

“You listen here, boy. I’ll give you a lesson that you should never forget. Never underestimate your enemy, or anyone, for that matter. Just because he’s your enemy and you hate him doesn’t mean he’s weak or stupid. Hell, it doesn’t even mean he’s wrong or even evil. But don’t mistake them for fools or you’ll see your mistake at the cost of your life. As much as I hate those tree-hugging, deer-humping, pointy-eared, bastard Wood Elves, I won’t underestimate their military might and I know they’re not lacking for brains. They are one of the fiercest enemies I have ever faced on the battlefield, and I have much respect for them as warriors even though I would love to bash their skulls in with my hammer. You should do well to keep that in mind if you ever do find yourselves on the opposite side of the battlefield from this Prince Arald. He’s the son of the same man who proved my point. King Teowulf was a great man and a fierce warrior, but he made the same mistake of underestimating King Vandil and it earned him his death. Learn from his mistake and don’t make it with the little princeling even though he’s most likely a stuck-up little prissy boy.”

“You always speak the truth, as hard as it is to hear, my friend,” Thorkel admits as he puts his hand on Aldam’s shoulder. “I’m grateful we had the opportunity to learn from you. I won’t underestimate this prince, but one day we will face him and take back what is rightfully ours. That I promise you.”

“Aye. I don’t doubt it. You two have grown to become men I respect. That’s rare. Just don’t let your hate for these Southerners lead you to a war that would leave many of your people dead. Trust me, my people have learned the hard way about the cost of war. We’ve fought the Wood Elves ever since our two races discovered each other many centuries ago. Many great dwarves died in our wars with the elves, and what for? Neither side has gained an inch. The only thing we’ve accomplished with our fighting is death and destruction. We’ve lost a lot of our great creations and some of the most honored heroes in these battles, and I’ve lost some of my closest friends and family during the many wars we’ve had. It’s made me a bitter old dwarf. That’s why I’m here. My siblings and I have come to the north to find what was lost. To find our way once more. The way of the hammer and forge. Before our wars, we sought to create and build, but we’ve become destroyers instead. Don’t make our mistakes. Carve your own path.”

Skardi, Solmund, and Griotgard walk in looking a bit more groomed than earlier. Aldam gives us both a nod. “Well, I’ll be off. There are a few more things I need to be doing before the wedding. I just came to wish you good luck and give you these. You’ve both earned them.”

He hands us the two boxes and we open them to find a hammer for both of us. Not just any hammer, they’re beautifully crafted hammers that are really lightweight and well-balanced. It looks smoother and brighter than iron.

“Is that steel?” Thormar asks.

“No. It’s better. Lighter than steel and just as hard. Not as strong as Nedraetium, but far lighter. You can’t find the metal around here. It’s only found in lands far south of here,” the dwarf says.

“I don’t know what to say, my friend. This gift is much appreciated,” Thorkel says.

“Yes, this is far better than we deserve,” I say with a smile.

“Aye, for once, I’m proud to disagree with you. You boys have earned those. Just promise me, you’ll only use them to create and not destroy. That is what it means to be a Bronzehammer and a blacksmith. We use our hammers to build and not break,” he says with pride.

Both Thorkel and I nod. “We will.”

“Good, now I’ll be off. Much to do and little time to do it,” the dwarf says as he walks out, grumbling about all the things that need to be done.

Griotgard steps up and places his hands on our shoulders. “Well, you two are about to become thralls to the Hrutdottirs. Do you really want to spend the rest of your lives getting told what to do by a woman?”

“How is it any different than it is now? They already tell us what to do.” Thorkel chuckles.

“That is true,” Skardi says with a laugh. “They have you as tamed as a dog.”

The three of them laugh.

“Did they teach you both any new tricks?” Griotgard asks. “If they haven’t, I’m sure fetch will be the first one you’ll learn.”

Even Thormar laughs at that one. Thorkel and I both share a flat face. Thorkel gives an over-exaggerated sarcastic laugh. “Just you wait. You’ll get shackled down eventually. And then you won’t be laughing.”

“Well, maybe not all of you,” Thorkel adds as he looks at Skardi.

“You’re not wrong. It’d take a different sort of woman to chain me down,” he says with a smile.

Mother bursts back in and grabs Thorkel and me. “You two! It’s time. Come on. Let’s go.”

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Lura Syllana

Warm sunlight breaks through from the balcony as I lay in the arms of a man with pure golden hair and eyes as blue as the sky. He holds me with tender care, nuzzling my bare neck. I smile with pure happiness. His hardness presses up against me and I wiggle my hips against him, but we’re interrupted as children rush in. Our children. I quickly pull the blankets over us to cover ourselves as our children convince us to get out of bed for the day. My husband sighs with a hint of frustration, but I can tell deep down he’s never been happier. He convinces them to go hide and he’ll come out and find them. They rush out in glee before my devilish husband puts me on my back with a grin brighter than the sun.

“You are so bad,” I say as I drag my hand down his perfectly sculpted chest. He grabs my legs and lifts them on top of his shoulders before…

I shoot up from my cot and groan as I realize it was all just a dream. That man… he feels so familiar, but I’ve never met him before. The golden-haired mysterious man of my dreams. Perfect in nearly every way. A man I feel like I’ve known my whole life and yet, he only exists in my dreams.

Work at the Brothel isn’t easy. I’m expected to get them as drunk as possible so they spend as much coin as possible, but the drunker a man gets the more handsy and pig-headed he is. I feel so disgusted every night after work. I have to take a bath just to wash the stain of their eyes off me. Not only that, but I’m constantly pushed and pressured to be one of Madame Faralene’s women of pleasure. To sell the pleasure of my body to these perverted men. There is no way in all the hells I would ever do that.

To make things even more difficult, I have seemed to get off on the wrong side of one of Madame Faralene’s best “workers,” if you can call what she does as work. Zaralraden, a golden-haired, blue-eyed falcon of a woman, seems to dislike me. She goes out of her way to get under my skin. The other day she hip-bumped me, causing me to nearly spill all of my drinks. Of course, I may have used a little of this magic I secretly learned to prevent losing the drinks. I think I may have angered her when I laughed, hearing her complain about her holy client. A High Father or whatever. The way she described him was rather funny, but it’s clear she despises the man and the things she says he’s making her do cause me to shudder. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me that these holy men of the church or whatever are here tossing coin around to satiate their unholy desires. Hypocrites, all of them. It is why I will never trust the religious type.

But even so, Zaralraden is the worst kind of evil. The conniving, spiteful kind. If she wasn’t bad enough, the attention I get from men is not the welcomed kind. I’m not talking about just the stares they give me, but the things they say to me are absolutely disgusting. I thought Phraan was bad. He definitely is bad, but some of these men can give him a run for his coin. Some of the things they say they want to do to me makes me want to take a bath and wash the filth of their words off my skin. Part of me is afraid Madame will try to convince me to take up one of their offers. As if I would ever consider it, but I’ve heard things from the other girls. A lot of girls start out like me, but no one stays a barmaid. Soon, an offer will be made that is too tempting to decline.

Still, there is no way in hell I will ever consider doing anything with these pricks. I’d rather starve. Hell, even joining the church would be better. I will keep my dignity and that is that.

“Hey, new girl… I need a refill!” one particularly disgusting man says. His ears are pierced all the way up to the point and he’s got a gut that can’t be contained by any shirt. I reluctantly bring over a pitcher of ale and take his cup. But when I feel his hand crawl up my leg, I can’t take it. I grab the mug and wash his face with the ale. “You filthy bitch!”

He immediately flings the chair back as he gets to his feet and grabs me by the hair, but his hand is caught before it strikes by the bouncer, a rather large beefy man with dark skin and black hair named Janyris. “Don’t touch the girls.”

He lets go of my hair and yanks his hand free only when Janyris lets go. “Get a hold of your women.”

I quickly walk away, but not before Madame has a word. “Lura, what do you think you’re doing?”

“He grabbed my arse,” I say.

“And your point? You do realize this is a brothel, right?” she says, hand on hip with the other pointing a finger at me. “The men who come in here will get handsy. Can you handle that, or will I have to find someone else who can? Need I remind you that I saved you from those men on the street? I can just as easily put you back on those streets for all the men to have at you.”

I hold my tongue in fear she’ll do just that. I need to get out of this place. I have to find out who bought my parents, along with my uncle and his crew. I will set them free one way or another. “Good, now get back to work.”

She storms off and Zaralraden snickers. “Be a good girl, you stupid sewage rat.”

I hate that woman!

—

I’ve worked long enough at the brothel to earn some pocket coin. I’d have more if I didn’t have to pay such high rent to Madame for room and board. Just for a room I have to share with seven other girls. Fortunately, none of them are like Zaralraden. Nambra, a blonde-haired elf is rather nice and polite. Alisenda, a taller brunette who’ll take no nonsense. Her daughter, Caeninita, who’s rather shy. Maenirin, a red-haired girl with pale skin who has a loud mouth. Maenalasa, a beautiful brunette with the charm of one of the best of merchants. She has men wrapped around her finger. Gisrae, who’s aggressive and can be rather violent. Men who cross her learn the hard way that she can give as good as she takes. And lastly, a woman I’ve become rather close with named Tyma. She’s a dark-skinned woman with dim blue eyes, which means she doesn’t have an ounce of magic in her. Her hair is black, but she tends to wear golden wigs to attract men’s attention. We share a bunk and she’s easy to get along with. She’s really taken me under her wing.

We spend quite a bit of time together whenever we’re able to. She seems to know the ins and outs of not just the Brothel, but Low Town itself, and it seems like she’s got friends everywhere. I’m always following her around town during our off time and meeting new people. It doesn’t hurt that she’s one of Madame’s best girls, rather tied with Zaralraden. It also helps that the two hate each other. You know what they say about the enemy of your enemy. Although I do find it weird that she still stays here, considering how much coin she brings in.

After a long night of work, I follow her out to a hookah lounge where we find a booth with her friends, just a few men and women who are stuck here just like the rest of us. Irevhur, a short, black-haired man with dark skin who works the docks doing hard work. Zharrish, a woman with deep chocolate skin that spends her days in the hot kitchens baking. She’s a rather plump woman, and it’s easy to see why her baking is by far bested by no one else. I’d be just as plump if I had half the skills with an oven. Of course, having skill is one thing, but having the food to bake with is another. Thankfully, she loves to treat us with some leftovers and mistakes.

—

It’s been several cycles since I started working at the Brothel. Still waiting tables and cleaning dishes. Men get handsy, but I’ve gotten better at ignoring them.

For the most part, I’ve kept my head down and made what little money I can. I’ve been saving up little by little, and hopefully one day I’ll have enough to track down my parents and buy back their freedom.

I just wish I could make more without offering my body up for pleasure to make some coin, but I’m near to the point of caving. At this rate, it will take me a human lifetime to save up enough coin to buy them back. However, I’ve seen how much she pays the girls who are in high demand. It’d only take a season or two to save up the kind of money I’d need to buy my parents’ freedom. Of course, I’ll need a lot more if I want to buy my uncle and his gang’s freedom. But I can’t think about them right now, as hard as that is. I need to worry about my parents first. I can’t let my dignity impede saving my family. I’ll do anything to get my parents their freedom. Especially since it’s my fault they were sold into slavery.

One night after closing, I talk to madame. She’s busy, so she hardly gives me the time. “I was wondering… How much exactly does it pay to sleep with men?”

She stops what she’s doing to look up at me with an eyebrow raised. “What’s the change in heart?”

“My family was sold into slavery and I’m saving to buy their freedom,” I say honestly.

Her hardened face seems to soften. “I can understand that. It’s noble and selfless. Well, there are different rates. Pleasing a man doesn’t always have to be with your cunt. You see, you can use your mouth or your arse. Of course, letting a man fuck your arse isn’t always pleasant. It can be very pleasant with a man who knows what he’s doing, but not with men who hang out in brothels. They tend to be a bit rough. Of course, the arse also prevents pregnancy. But we have other ways of preventing pregnancy. As long as you drink a tonic before sex, you will not get pregnant. It’s not the tastiest, but it does its job. As far as rates go, it depends on what you’re willing to do and your clients. Obviously, I pay out different rates for different methods of pleasing a man, or a woman sometimes. To use your mouth is the lowest rate. Your cunt is in the mid-range because it can be pleasant. However, if you’re a virgin, you can earn a lot to lose it. Men seem to prefer virgins and will pay a hefty rate. Your arse is the highest since it is usually not very pleasant and quite a few men seem to prefer it for whatever reason.”

“Do I get to choose the men?” I ask.

“Not being as new as you are. Eventually, when you get repeat clients who will request you, you’ll have more freedom to turn men down, but when you start, you must take what you can get. However, I don’t see it being a problem for you. You’re very beautiful. You have that petite little nose, a delicate chin, and plush, soft cheeks with lush lips that men seem to drool over. You’ll surely get a long line of men who’ll seek you out if you know how to please them,” she says, her eyes drifting down my body.

“I’ll do it, but I want my virginity to remain intact,” I say.

“So, meaning you’ll only please with your mouth? What about your little tush?” she asks.

“For now, let’s just do the mouth,” I say.

She nods. “I’ll respect that. I want you to know that this is a safe place. Unlike some brothels, we protect our women. I know firsthand what it is like since I used to be in your shoes. I worked for a man who didn’t care at all what happened to the girls as long as he got paid his coin. I endured much abuse at the hands of many men. I won’t let that happen to you. Okay?”

I nod, and she seems really sincere. “I appreciate that.”

She smiles. “Tonight. I’ll have you wet your feet with just one man, and if you feel that it’s something you’d like to continue doing, then I’ll start bringing you as many customers as you’re feel comfortable with.”

I nod. “Thank you, Madame. And thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’m in your debt. You’ve helped me out so much.” “It is nothing, child. I feel a responsibility to women like you and me. We are not that different. My family was also taken and sold. Unfortunately, they died before I could ever set them free. I hope you do not have to endure the same fate,” she says. Before I can stop myself, I hug her. She stiffens up at first, but gently pats my head, welcoming my embrace.

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Bothvar Beorcolsson

When we finally head back to camp, the fun can begin. I follow my brother and our friends, Solmund, Griotgard, Skardi, and Vog; even Gili and Tyrkir join us as we ditch the girls and our younger brothers, both of them having their own friends. We sneak into the woods so we can travel around to the Valkyrie tribe without being seen.

Then, we slowly creep into their camp but are stopped dead in our tracks. “What are you boys doing?”

Behind us stands Tonna and her staff. Thorkel pushes everyone aside as he walks up to face her. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like you were sneaking around our camp.” She whacks her staff against her hand. “Do I have to show you the same lesson that I showed you a long time ago?”

“And what lesson was that?” my brother asks with a grin.

“Oh, I don’t think you forgot. I think you remember all too well the sting my staff leaves,” she says, smirking back.

“Just relax, Tonna. We just came to see you again. Would you like to join us in some harmless fun?” Thorkel asks.

“I don’t know. Especially if your version of fun includes killing defenseless animals,” she says.

“Not at all. We’re just going to play some pranks on the other tribes, that’s all. I promise. Well, maybe snag some mead. And that herb the Builders always smoke. Maybe even find a drum beat to dance to and get into a few fights,” Thorkel says.

“Okay, that sounds like fun. Where’s your beloved? I’m surprised to see she’s not with you,” Tonna says.

“Who, Asfrid? We ditched her and the other girls back at camp. Besides, she’s not my beloved. Not yet, anyway,” Thorkel says, flashing that smile at Tonna.

“Whatever. And by the way, you weren’t planning on playing a prank on my tribe, were you?” Tonna asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Us? No… Not at all,” my brother says, acting all hurt as he raises up his hands in defense.

Tonna brushes a long string of her brown hair out of her face. “Sure… For some reason, I don’t believe you, but it’s whatever. Now, what do you have in mind for the other clans?”

I must say, Tonna is different. She’s a little taller and her bosom has gotten larger. I don’t remember her having breasts the last time we met. But she has them now. She also wears a tight tunic cut off above the stomach, showing off her rock-hard tummy, and a pair of trousers that cling to her thick legs. It’s hard to pull my eyes away from her butt. It is a nice round shape.

“Hmmm… That’s a good question. I usually don’t plan these things out, I just go with it. We’ll need to scout the campsites out. My main target is definitely the Wolf Clan. They’re a bunch of stiff-necked dogs with sticks up their arses who need a good jostling to loosen them up. I think I’ll skip the Giant Clan. I don’t know if I want them loosened up. The stories I heard about them make my skin shiver. And I just want to get that herb from the Builders. I hear it makes you feel like you can fly.”

“What about the Ice Tribe?” Tonna asks.

“Ehh… It’s a poor fortune to dishonor your host. I don’t want to anger the gods,” Thorkel says.

“Wow. I’m surprised. You’re actually showing wisdom,” Tonna says, getting a laugh out of the boys.

“Hey! I’m not as stupid as I look,” he says, folding his arms against his chest.

“Really? You coulda fooled me,” Tonna says, causing the boys to laugh even harder.

She just gets a dirty look from Thorkel. “Let’s get going. We’ll have to be really sneaky in order for the Wolves to not discover us.”

“Fortunately for you, that’s what I’m good at. I snuck up on you lot, didn’t I?” Tonna says with a grin on her beautiful face.

“You got lucky, that’s all,” Thorkel says as we take off back into the woods and scurry through the outer rim of the campsites until we arrive at the Wolf’s.

We sit on the edge of the woods and watch their camp. It’s hard to make out anything from this distance, and we don’t dare move any further in the light of the evening’s sun.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice cracks behind us. We all turn around to find that Baldric boy leaning against a tree with his sister, Siv, on the other side. I have to say, there’s something familiar about Baldric. I just can’t put my name on it.

“Nothing… Nothing at all. We were just exploring the forest. That’s all,” Thorkel says, standing up abruptly from his crouching position.

“That’s not what it looked like to me,” Siv says as she brushes her deep red hair across her shoulder. “Don’t you agree, brother?”

“I agree, sister. To me, it looked like you were all spying on our campsite,” Baldric says. He’s big for his age. I know he’s not that much older than Thorkel or I, but his arms are as thick as tree trunks, and he’s half a head taller than Thorkel.

“Well, you’re certainly mistaken, but that is okay. I heard Wolves have tiny brains,” Thorkel says.

That only earns a huff from Siv and a single chuckle from Baldric with a rather tense smile. “I’ve heard far worse things about Krakens.”

“Hey, don’t lump me in with that lot. I’m a Valkyrie. We neither have small brains nor do whatever you heard about Krakens,” Tonna says.

“Smooth Tonna,” Thorkel says with a rather flat face. She only shrugs.

“Why don’t you lot go back to the safety of your fathers before something bad happens,” Siv says. I must admit, she is rather beautiful, even though her face seems to be as sharp as a sword that really looks like it wants to cut us.

“Or what? Are you going to make us?” Vog shouts.

“We could,” she says, and just then a large pack of dire wolves comes out from deep within the forest led by a large black one and a large red one.

Suddenly, fear whips through me like the northern winds. Thorkel hesitates before taking a deep breath and a step back. “On second thought, maybe we’ll just move along to the Builders’ campsite. That herb of theirs is sounding really good about now.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Tonna says, gripping her staff.

“Wise move,” Baldric says as we get up and walk rather briskly out of the forest, quickly making our way to the Builder’s camp.

“Way to go, Thorkel. Maybe a plan would’ve helped, don’t ya think?” Tonna grumbles as we scurry away with our tails tucked between our legs.

“Who would’ve thought the rumor about them and the wolves were true? I surely didn’t believe it,” he says, scratching his head.

“I could’ve told you it was true. I thought you actually had a plan, and you weren’t telling me about it. But that was just foolish,” she says, giving Thorkel a good whack on top of his head.

“Ouch, what in the name of the gods was that for?” Thorkel asks, rubbing his head.

“For nearly getting us killed!” She brings up her staff again and Thorkel puts his hands up to defend himself, but Tonna only smirks as she rests the staff on her shoulders and lets her hands hang over the top.

“I could’ve taken them,” Vog says.

“Yeah… Me too,” Griotgard says.

“Yeah right!” Skardi snickers. “You both would be food for the wolves.”

“You guys have fun with your Builder herbs. I’m going back to my clan,” Tonna says, as she turns her back to us and splits off in the other direction. I can’t help but glance at her behind as she walks away.

“Great… There goes Tonna. I was really hoping she’d dance with me and maybe more,” Thorkel says.

“What about Asfrid? Aren’t you going to wed her?” I ask.

“Maybe, I don’t know. Probably. I doubt she’d let me marry anyone else. But, for now, I want to enjoy being free of marriage. What’s one night?” Thorkel asks.

“I don’t know. I just… It doesn’t feel right to me. I already plan to marry Arngunn, and I don’t want anyone else,” I say.

“Well, that’s you, brother. I like Asfrid, don’t think I don’t. I just… She’ll be the only woman I’ll share a bed with after we wed. Unless she will let another woman join us in marriage, but I highly doubt that. She doesn’t like to share and I just want to experience the fruit of other trees before I chain myself to her,” he says.

“Whatever,” I say with a sigh.

“Promise you won’t tell her,” he says.

“I won’t. I promise. I would never betray you,” I say.

“Why don’t we just get a slave and have turns with her?” Vog asks.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind having a warm cunt to sheath my cock into either,” Griotgard says.

“I don’t know… A slave kinda takes the fun out of it. There’s no chase or… Flirting or… Teasing back and forth. That’s what I like about Tonna. She makes it fun. Besides, she’s really good with a staff. And she can fight. She can fight a lot better than you lot. I wouldn’t mind going at her again. I’m far more prepared than last time,” Thorkel says as he stares off into the distance where Tonna walked off to.

“Yeah, she really embarrassed you last time,” Vog says with a smirk.

“She embarrassed you, too. She embarrassed all of us,” Thorkel says, glaring at the big oaf.

Vog only shrugs. “She is a worthy foe.”

We walk to the Builder’s camp and are immediately welcomed with open arms. Especially by two girls around our age. One with bright red hair and the other with dark raven hair.

“Welcome to our little camp. My name is Stangyth,” the dark raven-haired girl says. “You’re warriors, aren’t you? I’ve always wanted to be a warrior, but my father says it is not our life. He just doesn’t understand.”

“Oh, quit it, Stangyth. Why would you want to do something so barbaric?” the girl with bright red hair asks. “Don’t listen to her. My name is Eormenburh.”

“Well, my name is Thorkel, and these are my friends and family,” my brother says as he introduces us. He has a warm smile for the two beautiful women. They’re a little on the skinny side. Thorkel walks up and puts his arm around the girl with black hair, named Stangyth. “If you want, I can show you a thing or two about handling a sword.”

Her eyes go wide while the redhead named Eormenburh rolls her eyes. Stangyth looks up at my brother. “Really? I would love to learn.”

“Absolutely,” Thorkel says with a wide grin. “Just one thing. I heard you have an herb here that if you smoke it makes you feel as if you are flying. Is that true?”

She nods her head emphatically as her eyes seem to soak my brother in. “Yes! Yes, we have an herb that the Southerners call Tufonder. We call it Dazziweed. It makes you feel wonderful. Let me get some and we can all smoke it together.”

The other girl only sighs as Thorkel follows the raven-haired girl into their camp.

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s harmless,” Griotgard says with a smile as he walks up to the redhead. “I’m Griotgard. I’m his best friend. I can show you how to use a sword too, if you want.”

The woman scowls at him. “I know what your name is. The other boy said it already. And weren’t you listening? I don’t want anything to do with something so barbaric.”

She practically growls in frustration as she walks away, complaining about men. Griotgard scratches his head. “Women are so complicated. I don’t think I’ll ever understand them.”

A moment later, my brother runs back to us alone. “Woah, that was close. I guess her father didn’t like seeing her with me and chased me off with a hammer. Thankfully, I got the herb and a pipe to smoke it out of. Let’s go somewhere and try it out.”

We head back to our tent at our camp and make sure no one’s going to interrupt us. Thorkel has Skardi get a thin stick, wrap the end in a layer of oil-drenched cloth, and catch it on fire. It takes him a moment before he’s back with a little torch. By then, Thorkel has packed some of the herb into the pipe and takes the torch from Skardi before he brings it to the pipe and takes a sharp inhale, drawing the flame through the herb. He immediately breaks out coughing. He hands me the torch and the pipe.

I look at it wearily, but I buck up and take a puff with the flame and end up coughing as well. It makes my lungs hurt. I pass it over to Solmund and it makes its way around. None of them can fight the cough. We pass it around a few times before it goes out.

“Do you guys feel anything?” Thorkel asks.

“I don’t know… What am I supposed to feel?” Griotgard asks as he scratches his neck.

“Like you’re flying, whatever that feels like,” Thorkel says.

“I kinda feel funny,” I say, as it feels like my head is full of air.

“How so?” my brother asks.

“Like my head is without weight,” I say.

“Yeah, I feel that too,” Solmund says.

“I kinda feel a little happy,” Vog says with a straight face as his eyes shift about the room. “I think…”

“I like it, but I like those glowing mushrooms better. They made me feel so connected with the forest,” Skardi says as he sniffs the air. “Like, I could hear and sense everything. Smells were so vibrant and even the colors seemed to pop. I am going to get more of those when we get back home.”

“I kinda like it, actually. Makes me feel light as a feather,” Griotgard says as he runs his hands through his dark black hair.

“Yeah, it’s not bad. Let’s try to get some mead or ale or whatever we can find,” Thorkel says.

“Well, you’re a man now, aren’t you?” Skardi asks. “Solmund, Bothvar, and I are a few cycles away still.”

“I am… I just… You’re right. I’ll go get us some,” he says as he pushes out of the tent.

“You guys ever think that we’re just in… in like a dream?” Solmund asks as he stares at his hand. His hair is kept long, and he’s got facial hair growing in. Mostly scruff. Griotgard keeps his neatly trimmed in a goatee and mustache.

“I’ve considered that,” Skardi says, rubbing his bare chin. “It does seem possible. Maybe it’s Ornulf’s dream and as soon as he wakes up, it’s over.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Solmund says with a smile.

“You guys are crazy,” Vog says. He always kept his hair short and has grown a wild beard.

“I don’t know… I think it could make sense. Wouldn’t be a bad dream,” Gilli says as he pulls on his long brown hair. Even though his sides are shaved, the hair on the top of his head is quite long. His face contorts in concentration as he stares at his own hair. Hair is kinda strange. It doesn’t decay like the rest of the body. I pull my own blonde hair and look at it. Why does it grow? What’s the point of hair?

“It’ll be a better dream once Thorkel gets back with the mead,” Tyrkir says as he sticks out his tongue, trying to touch his nose with it. He’s always let his brown hair hang loose over his face.

I look down at my hands; it feels like they’re bigger for some reason, and everything around my hands seems to vibrate. Is that normal? Is it because of this herb? What was it called again?

“You guys… You guys. I think… I think I’m drowning,” Vog says as he brings his hands to his neck.

“But Vog, you’re not even in water. How can you drown without being in water?” Skardi asks.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t know,” he says as he claws at his tunic. “I think I drownded.”

Skardi snickers. “That makes no sense.”

“What’s taking Thorkel so long?” Tyrkir asks.

“Should we go out and find him?” Griotgard asks.

“What do you think, Bothvar?” Solmund asks me, but I can’t take my eyes from my hands. There are rivers running through them. 

“Uhhh… I don’t know. Sure,” I say. They all head out, and I finally look up to make out the sun dropping down below the horizon. It looks like it’s falling against the land, creating a ball of fire.

“Are you coming, Bothvar?” Skardi asks.

“Uhhh… Right. Yes. Where are we going, again?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Skardi says.

“We’re going to find mead,” Tyrkir says.

“I thought we were going to find Thorkel,” Gilli says.

“The entire reason Thorkel went out there was to find mead,” Tyrkir says.

“Oooh… Right. I remember now,” Gilli says.

“For the love of the gods, brother… Get with it,” Tyrkir says.

“You try getting with it. I don’t even know what we’re getting with,” Gilli says, as his hands play with his hair.

“I’m hungry,” Vog says.

I slowly push my way out of the tent but immediately turn and walk back in. There are way too many people out there. Where did they all come from?

A hand grabs my tunic and I’m dragged back outside. Solmund pulls me along behind him. “Come on, we have to go find Thorkel.”

“But… Okay…”

The four of us… Wait, there are five of us. No… Solmund, Griotgard, Skardi, Vog, Gili, and Tyrkir… That’s one, two, three, four, five, six! That’s six of us. No, wait. I forgot to count myself. That’s seven. Wasn’t there one more? Or two more? Where’s Thorkel and… Tonna! “Where’s Tonna?”

“Seriously, Bothvar?” Vog asks.

“Wasn’t she with us?” I ask.

“No,” Vog says.

“Yes, she was,” Skardi says.

“Do you see her with us?” Vog asks.

“That wasn’t the question. He asked if she was with us and she was. Then she left,” Skardi says.

“But she’s not with us now,” Vog says.

“Of course, she’s not with us now,” Skardi says.

“I wouldn’t mind it if she was with us,” Griotgard says with a grin full of shit. “Thorkel was right. She knows how to handle a staff.”

“Should we find her?” I ask.

“No! She left us. Remember?” Vog says.

“Oh… I guess I forgot,” I say.

“There you guys are!” We all turn to see Svala, Asfrid, Arngunn, and Semet walking toward us.

“Oh shit. Thorkel said not to tell her something. I don’t remember what it was,” I say.

“Tell me what?” Asfrid says with a look that could make the dead die again.

“Uhh. I don’t remember what I was not supposed to tell you. Wait. Did I say that out loud?” I ask.

“He said not to tell you about the gift Thorkel got you,” Skardi says.

“He didn’t…” Skardi’s elbow rams hard into my gut. “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Hi, Bothvi!” Arngunn says as she steps in front of me with that beautiful smile. She has such a small, cute nose. And her chin, it is so delicate. Those rosy cheeks seem so soft. I reach up and touch that soft, silky cheek. She clasps the back of my hand with her own tiny hand. Much smaller than mine, and she giggles. “What are you doing?”

“Where is Thorkel?” Asfrid asks, with her hands at her hips and her foot tapping the ground.

“We know nothing!” Griotgard shouts.

“We were actually just looking for Thorkel,” Tyrkir says.

Gods, her skin is so soft. It’s like touching a flower petal.

“You guys are acting funny,” Svala says as she eyes us wearily.

“You’re acting funny!” Vog says.

“Yeah, Svala, stop acting so funny,” Gili says, mimicking Vog.

“Don’t mimic me!” Vog snaps as he punches Gili.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Svala asks as she crosses her arms against her chest. “And Bothvar, stop touching Arni’s face like that. It’s weird.”

“I really like it,” Arni says as she leans into my hand.

“It’s so soft,” I say.

“You’re so weird!” Svala says.

“Yeah, that’s kinda odd. I don’t like it,” Asfrid says as she slaps my hand away.

“Aww,” Arni says with a sigh, sticking out her bottom lip. Semet pulls at her dress and whispers something in her ear, and she nods with a smile.

“Seriously, what is going on with you all?” Svala says.

“Hello,” Thorkel says as he stumbles up with a mug, the contents spilling everywhere. He wraps his arm around Asfrid. She gives him a very cold look. “Howsh, it going…”

“Where have you been? And what is this about you not wanting to tell me something?” she asks.

“Don’t you go… hiccup… don’t tell. I’m a little. A drunk right now. Hiccup.” He has to lean on Asfrid to even stand up straight.

“What the bloody goat turd, Thorkel? You were supposed to bring us all mead!” Tyrkir says with a growl.

“Oooooh. I… hiccup… I knew I forgot something. I’m a little drunk. I think. And that herb we smoked… Wow!” he says before he turns to Asfrid, his face only a finger length away. Then he plants a kiss on her cheek.

Her eyes go wide and her cheeks flush red. Then, suddenly, she bucks him off of her and full-on punches him in the face. He falls over like a tree being chopped down. “I am so mad at you right now! You do not get to kiss me. You ditched us, and now you’re so drunk you can’t even stand up straight. I’m fuming mad. You better have a really nice gift for me or you’re gonna think that punch was a bee sting.”

“What herb?” Svala asks as she looks at us with a cat-like curiosity while Asfrid marches off. Thorkel rolls over on his stomach and throws up everything he drank. Svala winces before she looks at us with determination. “I want some.”

“I don’t think you can handle it, little cuz,” Gilli says, patting her on the head. She reels around and punches him in the stomach. He doubles over on his knees. “Uhh, what was that for?”

“I told you a hundred times not to pat me on the head like that!” she says with a huff. “Now you piss brains better share or I’ll tell mother and she’ll tell your mothers. You know they’ll tan all of your hides. Or better yet, I’ll tell your sisters.”

“Goat shit, she has us. I certainly don’t want to face their wrath. They’re all so scary,” Griotgard says.

“Especially if she tells our mothers,” Gili says as he straightens up, climbing to his feet with his eyes wide as gold coins. “You’d think it’d be nice to have three mothers, but it is not. I’m three times more likely to get caught and then I get punished for it three times over. It’s a nightmare.”

“Then you better share,” Svala says.

“Fine,” I say.

“I think I’m going to check on my sister,” Arni says as she looks at me with those beautiful sea-blue eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want some?” I ask.

“Yeah, maybe next time,” she says, smiling at me before she leans up and kisses my cheek. Then she skips away with Semet. My hand goes to the spot where she kissed me, and I can’t help but grin. I’m never washing my cheek ever again. I swear I’m going to marry her someday.

Thorkel finally picks himself up off the ground and rips his tunic off, going bare-chested as everyone walks back into the tent. “Hey… Guess what! I almost forgot to tell you all.”

We all shrug. Thorkel grins with half-lidded eyes. “I saw little Thormar smooching on that girl… What was her name…”

“Signy Styrkarsdottir?” Svala asks.

“Yeah! That’s the one.” He giggles.

Svala tilts her head. “What’s so funny? Those two have been getting close for a long time, now. I actually like Signy, although I don’t know what she sees in Thormar…”

Thorkel’s grin widens. “I sicked Bodvar on them. The little shit dumped a bucket of water on them and took off running. I think Thormar’s still chasing after him.”

Laughter erupts from everyone’s lips. Even Svala can’t hold back. “You’re terrible.  Sometimes I think we go too far, but Thormar takes things too seriously.”

Skardi pulls out the herb and packs up some for Svala and hands her the pipe. She looks at him with her eyebrows scrunching together. “And what am I supposed to do with this?”

“You’re supposed to smoke it,” Skardi says, giggling.

“Don’t you think she’s a little young for that?” Gilli asks.

Svala turns on him and raises her fist. Gilli nearly falls over the cot. “That’s what I thought. Besides, I’m not that much younger than Bothvar and Thormar. Bothvar is sixteen, Thormar’s only a cycle younger, and I’m only a cycle younger than him. I’m plenty old enough, and if you say otherwise, you can say it to my fist.”

“Okay! Okay… I’m not your mother. Do what you want,” Gilli says.

“Now how am I supposed to smoke this?” Svala asks.

“With fire, how else do you think you’re supposed to smoke it?” Skardi asks, making us all laugh.

Svala raises her fist and Skardi flinches before rushing out of the tent. “Let me go get you some.”

Thorkel walks in. “I feel a little better.”

“Now are you going to go get the rest of us some mead?” Tyrkir asks.

“I don’t know… I don’t think I want anymore,” Thorkel says, rubbing his face. “My face hurts.”

“I’ll go get some,” Vog says as he walks out.

“Finally, a cousin who is worth something,” Tyrkir mumbles.

“Hey… I heard that,” Thorkel says.

“What about me?” I ask.

“Well, I wasn’t referring to you, Bothvar. Just this bum,” Tyrkir says, pointing his thumb at Thorkel.

“Speaking of Thormar, where is he?” I ask Svala.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” she says as she looks at the herb in the pipe. “Well, that’s not true. I saw him with Tandril, Starolf, Gudrik, Hosvir, Thorvir, and their friends in their tent talking out their asses how they’re going to get themselves a ship and sail west.”

“What a bunch of dunga,” Griotgard says.

“At least Hosvir isn’t following us around,” Solmund says.

“Yeah, true. He’s so annoying,” Griotgard says.

“That’s what little brothers are for,” Thorkel says, messing up my hair.

“Or nephews…” Tyrkir says. “It’s weird having Starolf and Gudrik as our nephews. Especially since they’re not that much younger than us.”

“At least Starolf and Gudrik aren’t as bad as Hunbogi. Sometimes I want to smother him in his sleep,” Gilli says.

“You and me both. Veleif should’ve left him out in the woods when he was born,” Tyrkir says.

“That’s a little… cruel,” Svala says.

“Don’t tell me you don’t secretly wish he’d fall off a cliff,” Gilli asks.

“Well, he is a bit crazy and mean, but… okay, maybe just a little,” Svala says as Skardi comes back in with a small little stick with the end on fire.

“Here, use this,” he says as Vog comes in behind him with a big bucket and some mugs.

“Yes! Thank you!” Tyrkir says, jumping up to his feet from the cot with a smile. “At least one cousin is reliable.”

He takes a mug from Vog and dips it in the bucket and chugs it. Solmund, Griotgard, and Gili follow in.

Svala bursts into a coughing fit as she blows out smoke. Thorkel comes up and takes the pipe from her. “Give me that. Who said you could smoke it? Nevermind. I need a hit.”

He hits it and lets out a sharp cough. “Anyone else?”

Skardi takes it next and smokes it. Once again it starts to make it around. I reluctantly take another puff.

Thorkel puts it out. “I need to fuck someone.”

He storms out. Griotgard and Vog, all chug their mead before they follow him.

“Men! Always thinking with their dicks,” Svala says as she storms out too, leaving Gilli, Tyrkir, Solmund, Skardi, and me.

“Do you guys want to play a game or something?” Skardi asks.

“Ehh… Not really. I think I’m going to go take a piss and find Oddny,” Tyrkir says as he empties his mug and tosses it onto the ground. He rushes out and is gone.

“That’s not a bad idea. Besides, I have two beautiful women waiting for me. I think I’m going to go put sons inside them and have them out before we’re wedded in the fall.”

“Do you think they’ll find any girls?” Solmund asks. I only shrug.

“Let’s go see,” Skardi says. We follow him out and go look for them. After searching the entire camp, we finally hear something behind Vog’s tent. Moaning, groaning, and slapping of flesh. We head over to see the guys all surrounding a slave I recognize. An elven woman who, I think, is Vog’s father’s slave. Thorkel slams into her while Vog tries to get his pecker in her mouth.

Tears run down her eyes, and she doesn’t look as if she is enjoying it. They are not being very nice to her. Not at all. They’re saying some terrible things to her, calling her all these awful names, especially things that have to do with elves.

I don’t like it. It makes me feel sick to my stomach watching. I walk away. Part of me wants to stop it, but I can’t. Thorkel is my brother, and it’s not my slave. But it’s not how I imagined sex would be like. Not at all. When I think about having sex with Arngunn on our wedding night, she’s enjoying it. Happy and blissful. There won’t be tears in her eyes, and I certainly do not want to hurt her.

I can’t understand how anyone would enjoy that. I find my great uncle Alvi walking with Gudrod, Bodvar, and an older woman with two girls of her own around Bodvar and Gudrod’s age. I don’t think I’ve met her before. My uncle and the older lady seem to be getting on well. He even steals flowers out of another woman’s hair when neither is looking and gives them to the woman he is walking with. She appears to like it very much. Bodvar sees it and tries to steal a flower too, but gets caught and shooed off. He settles for a red dandelion weed that sprouted up and hands it to one of the girls.

I decide not to interrupt them and walk away. I wander a bit, searching for answers. I find myself going to the docks to look at the stars but realize I’m not alone. A girl about my age also sits here. She looks up at me with big green eyes and then scoots over, giving me room. Her dark brown, silky hair is done up in a ponytail. I sit down next to her and look out at the stars reflected down upon the water. “I’m Almedha, what’s your name?”

“Bothvar,” I say.

She nods. “So, Bothvar, what brings you out here when everyone is back there?”

“I don’t know, honestly. Just trying to figure things out, and you?”

“I could say the same. What are you trying to figure out?” she asks. She has such a crisp and melodic voice. It sounds like the songbirds in the forest.

“I don’t know how to explain it. I’m not sure I understand,” I admit.

“It takes courage to admit what you don’t know,” she says.

“What are you out here for?” I ask.

“Avoiding my mother. And my responsibilities. It’s not very honoris and I’m getting much delictum.”

“What does that mean? I’ve heard it before,” I say.

“Well, at Forsa Village, we have five core beliefs, Kathikon, which means duty. Duty to ourselves, duty to our purpose, duty to our family, duty to our people, and duty to the world. There’s a lot of duty, to say the least. It is our duty to protect our people and ensure their survival. It’s our duty to provide for our families and keep them safe. It’s our duty to find purpose and to fulfill it, whatever it may be. Our duty to the world is to ensure it is not ruined by others. We are keepers of the land and nature. Our duty to ourselves is to maintain our honor and leave no regrets. Honoris is the second belief. It means what it sounds like, honor. Honor is earned by self-sacrificing acts that are for the better of the clan and the world itself. There is no greater honor than to sacrifice oneself and die in order to save and protect the clan and the world. It is also a great honor to save the life of another clan member. A lesser honor to save the life of an outsider. Killing in battle brings no honor, but it is a duty that is served and must be done for the greater good of the clan.” She takes a moment to look out at the calm sea that reflects the stars above.

“And the other three?” I ask.

“Delictum means shame or guilt. It is acts of cowardice that accrue delictum. Or hurting innocents. Shaming your fellow clan members or family earns you much delictum. Apolutrosis means redemption, which is another of the five pillar beliefs. The only way to achieve Apolutrosis is with officium, which means service. You must serve the clan as best you can. In order to do so, you must be willing to sacrifice your own wants and needs for that of the clan and the world at large. It is all about self-sacrifice. About duty. It’s rather simple, really.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It makes much more sense,” I say. My brother and our friends accrued much delictum when they hurt that elf slave. They need to get Apolutrosis. “Thanks. I think I found what I was looking for. You’re really wise. I’m glad I met you.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help, and in a way, you have made me understand my own delictum and how I can earn Apolutrosis. I thank you in return.”

I nod and smile as we both get up. She holds out her hand and I shake it. “I hope we meet again, Bothvar.”

“Me too, Almedha,” I say with a smile before we part ways.

As I head back, I hear the screams and follow them to find men whipping and beating two elf slaves, an older man and a younger woman, both with bright blue eyes. “That is what you get, you pointy-eared bastards. Try to escape again and I’ll cut your tongues out, or worse.”

I look away as the poor elven slaves barely cling to consciousness. It’s hard to imagine why they wouldn’t want to escape when they are beaten and treated as such. Cruelty like this wouldn’t make anyone want to stay. But what can I do? They aren’t mine. But it would certainly earn me delictum to do nothing. I walk up to them. “How much for these slaves?”

The men turn to look at me and all laugh. “Boy, go home to your parents. You don’t have the coin for such a purchase, nor could you afford to keep them.”

Another man steps up to the one who spoke. “Gunni, that is Earl Beorcol’s son.”

The man named Gunni, a bald man with a goatee, looks at me carefully. “So, you want to buy them, ehh? I will accept no less than twelve pieces of silver for each.”

I untie the coin purse from my belt and hand them a few gold pieces. “A few gold coins should cover that. I’ll have someone come get them.”

The man bites a gold coin and nods with a turd-eating grin. I walk back to the clan to find the slave named Valindra. I tell her to go get some others and fetch the two slaves I purchased. I told her to tell Sigvor to help them with their wounds and that they are my gifts to her. She nods and carries out my orders.

I head back to the tent and find Thorkel stumbling in at the same time, falling onto the bed. I head inside and sit down on my own cot. “You’ve accrued much delictum Thorkel.”

“What? What are you talking about? Go to bed,” he says as he turns away from me.

“You hurt that elf, girl. That is an act of shame,” I say.

“She’s a slave and an elf. Who cares,” he says.

“I care. It doesn’t sit well with me,” I say.

“She’s an elf. Her people are responsible for killing Asfrid and Arngunn’s parents. They are the enemy. Who cares about them?” he says with a growl. “Now be quiet. I’m going to bed.”

It doesn’t take long before he falls asleep. Is he right? The elves did kill Arni and Asfrid’s parents. Does that make what Thorkel and our friends did okay? No… Almedha didn’t say anything about vengeance or revenge. It was about honor, duty, shame, service, and redemption. But do these core beliefs hold true for slaves? What about elves? Especially since many of our clan members have died at their hands. I don’t know; I need to think on it some more.

 —

The next day on the way back home, the slave Valindra comes to me as I watch the shores drift by. “Lord Bothvar.”

I laugh at the title. “You don’t need to call me that. Bothvar is just fine.”

She nods. “You have my thanks for last night. You reunited my friends and me with a long-lost friend. The old man’s name is Larongar, and he is a close friend of ours.”

I nod. “What about the girl?”

“She, I don’t know her, but Larongar was helping her escape and mentioned that her name is Talindra Vana. We will take her in and help her.”

“How did you come to be enslaved?” I ask.

“All of us grew up in poverty within our city, Isyelnaes, which resides in the Shifting Sands desert to the south. Most grew up in tents outside the great walls. We had to steal to eat, so we all joined together and became thieves, but we were betrayed by a man as greedy and lustful as they come,” she says, meeting my eyes.

“I see. I’m sorry for your hardships. I cannot blame you for your thievery. I suppose when it comes to hunger, most of us would do the same,” I say.

She nods. “I should go check on them. They should make a full recovery, thanks to Lady Sigvor’s help. She is very kind.”

“Just as long as you don’t cross her,” I say with a laugh. “She along with my mother and their younger sister can be quite spiteful to those who wrong them. Trust me, my siblings and I have spent many a days suffering their punishments.”

She smiles. “Even still, I’m sure your punishments were out of love.”

“Ehh, more out of our own stupidity, but sure,” I say with a smile. She also smiles before she bows and takes her leave. I have to say, she is quite beautiful. There’s something about elven eyes. The way they seem to glow. At least the ones who can do magic.

Looks like Thormar found himself a stray dog at the meeting. He won’t let it out of his sight. Bodvar has taken to calling it Ruffles. Thormar hates that name so Thorkel made sure it stuck.

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