Norse

Lura Syllana

It only takes a couple of days before we all feel confident and take the test. All of us pass easily enough and move on to the next level, this time taught by an Accepted man with light, sandy skin, dark black hair and average blue eyes. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with narrow eyes and long, pointy ears. He greets us upon our arrival. “Welcome to level two. I’m your instructor and advisor, Meifinas. You’ll find the book you need in the back cupboards. Teachings of the Light, by Nostra Longswitch. To gain level three, you must understand and accept the core values of the Light. Any questions?”

After none of us speak up, he nods. “Then get to it.”

We all grab a copy and find empty desks. Upon opening it, I flip through it until I find Terel’s notes at the far back of Nostra’s book. But that doesn’t keep me from reading it. Nostra Longswitch is currently a Mother of the Light and a close friend of Sister Damaris. I should take her teachings to heart.

I spend all class getting as far as I can within the book, and most of what it talks about makes sense. Through the Divine Light, you will find salvation. The Light will protect your soul. It is best to live in the Light of the truth instead of hiding in a shadow of lies. Find redemption in the Light for your fallacies, mistakes, shortcomings, and flaws. Seek forgiveness and earn redemption. Commit no evil, seek no revenge, and speak no lies. Good deeds have their own reward. Keep the heart pure. Life is precious, don’t end it. Act with grace and humility. That last part must’ve been what Damaris mentioned to that high-born Sister.

Most of the book covers Mother Nostra’s own accords and experiences with Akrasiel’s teachings. She recounts the miracles and blessings Akrasiel has brought upon the people; His gentle and kind heart, still with a strong sense of justice within him. He spoke of how you should always forgive and forget, even if you know they will commit the crime again. However, that does not mean wrong-doers should go without punishment.

If a child misbehaves, then he should be held accountable for his misdeeds. If a man commits a crime, he should also be held accountable. However, the punishment should fit the crime. A child who steals fruit to eat shouldn’t receive the same punishment as a man who murders or rapes. Lesser crimes should receive lesser punishments if only to teach lessons. Execution shouldn’t be given out lightly. Only those who seek malice against those he calls neighbor and those who bring only death should receive death as a punishment. However, those who have murdered for self-defense or out of emotion should not be held to the same accord. Once a person has been held accountable for their crime, truly repents with their heart, and has made amends with those they have wronged, they should be forgiven and be treated as if they are a new person; the crime that was committed should be washed away as if it never happened.

The book goes into detail on how a person should behave within the Light. Describing how we should pray, eat, and treat others. Even the lowest of the low deserve the same rights as the highest of the high. A child of no home or family should be brought in and treated like a son or daughter without conditions. Children are the future, and if not looked after the future will not be so bright within the Light. The elderly should be listened to and respected. They have the wisdom of the cycles they lived through and one should take time to learn from them. Treat each elder as if they were your father or mother, for surely, they have earned your respect. Those who live without a home should be given shelter and fed. But give an elf the fruit of your labor and he or she may eat once. However, share with them the knowledge of how to harvest the land, and they will never go hungry.

Never act in ignorance or arrogance. Pride in one’s work is good, but pride in one’s self leads to arrogance. Arrogance leads to ignorance, and ignorance leads to failure and mistakes. Always be prideful about your harvest, but do not feed your pride to your ego for that will surely lead to your downfall.

Do not confuse joy with pleasure. Joy comes from within and pleasure comes from outside. Joy comes from the heart. You receive it when you act with compassion, love, gratitude, and have a noble purpose. Pleasure comes consuming that which comes from the outside of the body, but it lacks satisfaction and diminishes with every quench. Joy is the simmering coal that lasts a lifetime, and pleasure is a burning, raging fire that burns out rather quickly. With each raging fire, it takes more timber to gain the same flame, yet the simmering coals burn with the same heat for a lifetime. Joy takes little and gives much, while pleasure takes all and gives very little.

Find delight in moderation. Find happiness in work. The destination does not deliver wisdom, but wisdom is earned while on the journey. Mistakes and failures are not final, nor should they be avoided at the cost of success and victory. There is no greater teacher than the failures and mistakes of our efforts. They surely teach us lessons that are far more valuable than any success could ever bring. However, it is better to learn from the mistakes of others than to endure our own.

The Light shines within all of us, but some need a little more timber to feel it. Do not forsake those whose Light is dim, for they are the ones who strive where the Light is hardest to find and will help guide you through the darkness. Share with them your kindness, and surely you will find a friend in them when you are lost in the dark. Your Light will brighten theirs.

Do not let temptation be an acquaintance. For the lure of temptation is far greater when you let it whisper in your ear than when you are too far to hear its desirable words. Even the purest of hearts will fall to temptation when they let it speak to their own desires and vices. We are but mortals, and none of us live without desire and vice. In order to not give in to such things, we merely forsake them within our lives. Free your house of temptation, and you shall never fall to your vices. If you can’t see or hear the lure of pleasure and sin, you will not be tempted to give in.

Sometimes the darkness in our lives makes it hard to see the Light. When we lose the love of another, grieve for the death of a lover, or find sadness and pain where love and friendship once blossomed, we will find ourselves lost in the dark. It is okay to lose yourself in darkness, but do not let yourself live within the dark forever. Remember, the Light shines from within and from outside oneself. If you find yourself surrounded by the dark, just look within. Let your own Light shine and the Light of others will find you. Let go of that which keeps you in the dark. Let go of fear, grief, sadness, guilt, shame, and anger. They need to be felt within the moment but do not hold on to them, for they will swallow your Light and leave you in the dark. Instead, feel and let go of them. Embrace the pain and accept it. Only then can you understand that the pain is only temporary and it is a pain of love. Once you learn to embrace pain, it can no longer hurt you. Your pain will become your strength. Your shield. But do not let it become your anchor, for it will not let you go until you learn to let it go. When you break the chain that holds you down, you will find peace and relief once the burden of your pain is lifted off your shoulders.

The teachings all feel important and applicable. Some I wish I knew a long time ago. Some still seem a mystery to me today. I am glad I read it now more than ever. We all study together and go over what we learned from the book. Share it with each other and test each other.

—

The four of us have grown quite close. We’ve developed into friends from acquaintances. They are not the only ones either. Chalia has become one of my closest confidants.

I feel like I can tell her my secrets, and as I meet her back at our room, I decide to do just that.

“Hey, Chalia?” I say, biting my lip as I fidget with my robes.

“What’s up?” she asks, as her eyes meet mine.

“Remember the first day we met and I told you I wasn’t exactly a low-born and you asked what my family name was?” I ask, avoiding her eyes.

“Yeah, you said you weren’t supposed to talk about it,” she says as she takes a step closer.

“Well, I feel like I can trust you. You’ve been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister,” I say, meeting her eyes with a genuine smile from the bottom of my heart.

She returns it in kind. “I feel the same way.”

I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, my last name is Syllana.”

My breath catches in my throat as her eyes go wide. “I’ve heard of your name. You’re one of the noble houses that was ostracized and stripped of name and title for being loyal to King Volodar after he abdicated. Many like your family wanted to raise Prince Faelar to the throne, but the council, along with the Golden High Elf Trading Company and many other noble houses were fiercely against it.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know,” I say, letting out the air I’d been holding in.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your family. It is a shame about all the houses being ostracized for being loyal to the royal family. Most of the common people are still loyal to the Morric family. He brought us stability and spread the wealth. Ever since the Council and the Golden High Elf Trading Company took power, many have fallen into poverty, and the gap between the rich and the poor seems to have grown too far.”

“Trust me, I understand. My family lost everything. We lived in Tent City before the rest of my family were sold as slaves.”

Her eyes grow soft. “For the Light… That’s awful. Why?”

“It’s complicated. I’ve been trying to save up coin to free them, but I lost everything when I accidentally used magic and was arrested for it. They took all I had,” I say, leaving out the part about killing Phraan with magic. No one needs to know those things.

 She puts a hand on my shoulder. “I will give you what little help I can offer, but I don’t have much. I lost all I had after my father passed away.”

“You don’t need to give me anything. It is my responsibility to help them,” I say.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

Bothvar Beorcolsson

The snow covers the docks. The water of the harbor is still frozen. Same with the bay and the river attached. The cold is still bitter, but the sun rises. This winter was nowhere near as long as The Longest Night, which the people have started calling that fateful winter that felt like it would never end. It’s been more than a few cycles since then. Since that winter in which I lost my beloved Arngunn, our child, Asfrid, and my brother’s son and Thorkel the summer prior. I try to imagine what Arni and Hrut’s last send-off would have been like. I wasn’t here to see it. Neither was I there for Asfrid or her child. Or even my brothers for that matter, not that we had his body to send on his last voyage.

I wasn’t here when they needed me. Why couldn’t I have stayed? If I could only have one last moment with my wife and child, I’d give the rest of my days and cherish that moment. What would I say to them?

I look out and imagine their boats coming back to shore, but they’re not sleeping on their final rest, instead, they’re standing up, as alive as I am sitting here now. The smiles on their faces are what I am trying to remember, but all I remember were the last moments that they gave me, and instead of cherishing them, I wasted them. My brother might be lost forever. I don’t know if he died holding his weapon, and I can’t recover the body to send him on his last voyage. He’s gone, and it still feels like it’s all my fault. And instead of cherishing those last moments with my wife and child, I was consumed with revenge. All I wanted to do was kill that elf. He haunted my memories.

Now I have all but forgotten him. Instead, I just remember the tears my wife cried on the day that I left. I just wish I could have those moments back. Instead of seeking death, I’d cherish life. But not even the father above can reverse the tree of time.

But if Arni and Hrut stepped on this dock one last time, I’d spill my heart out to them. I have so much to tell them. If they were standing in front of me for one last moment, I’d tell them this.

I clear my throat. “If you were here, Arni, my love, I wouldn’t feel so alone. You’re the only thing I was holding onto. You and our child. I saw all the days ahead with us. Hrut would have many brothers and a sister or two. I’d make sure of it. Hrut, you and your siblings would spend your time learning all the things you need to in order to survive this world. You’d spend time with Aldam, the grumpy old dwarven blacksmith. He’s short and bald, but he’s got a mouth as loud as a bear. You won’t like him very much at first, but he’ll grow on you. In the end, you’ll think of him as a close friend. He knows everything there is to know about making weapons. Of course, I’m sure Arni would spend a lot of time chasing you and your siblings around, getting you out of trouble. Wouldn’t you, love?”

I laugh at the thought of that sweet, kind, woman acting like my mother. “Like Thorkel and I, you’d spend a lot of time doing slave work and your arse would be full of welts. But like me, you’d cherish that time. I’d teach you how to fight and swing an ax. You’d make your own sword, just like I had.”

I take in a deep breath and smell the air. The icy wind brings in that salty scent. I try hard, but no matter how deep I breathe in, I still can’t smell their scent. Arni would always smell like flowers because she spent so much time picking them. Hrut would smell like barf and shit. Most of the time, he cried all night. But there was that time he opened up his eyes and smiled at me. I’ve never felt so alive during those tiny moments. I saw myself in his eyes. “Arni, I wish I could smell the flowers you always had in your hair one last time. I wish we were back in the woods and trying to stop our sibling and friends.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding as I see another boat leave the harbor. Tonna’s now in one of the great halls. Feasting with my wife and her sister. I can imagine Tonna and Asfrid might instead be fighting. I don’t think they ever liked each other. Of course, Arni would surely try to break them up. The thought brings both the tears out of my eyes and puts a smile on my face. “Arni, please, just give me one more moment. Please let me hold Hrut one last time.”

“Bothvi? What are you doing?” I turn around to see little Thora walking out with Svala. It hurts every time she calls me Bothvi, just like Arni used to do, but I can’t bring myself to tell her not to. I suppose she, more than anyone, has every right to. Because of me, she has to grow up without her parents. Instead of having Thorkel and Asfrid here to teach her how to be a Kraken, she is stuck with me. 

“He’s talking with his wife and your parents. And it would seem your cousin too,” Svala says. Her golden blonde hair twirls with the wind.

“Why did you two come out here? It’s cold, and the dock is slick.” I ask.

“I wanted to see you, uncle Bothvi,” Thora says with that innocent little smile. In a way, it kind of reminds me of the smile Thorkel would always give.

“She wanted to see you, but I wanted to speak to them too,” Svala says as she sits down next to me. Thora sits down on the other side.

“How do you speak to them?” Thora asks.

I breathe in and fill my lungs with the bitter cold air long enough to hurt before letting it go. I look into the little girl’s eyes and I see both my brother and Asfrid. But someone else too. Someone new. “Well, you just close your eyes and imagine them sailing a boat back to the docks. They’ll get off and hug you. Then you’ll get your chance to say everything you need to say.”

“What do they look like?” Thora asks as she brushes her light blonde hair from her face. Her tiny little nose looks like a miniature one of Arni’s. The same one Asfrid shares. Only hers was always sticking up at everyone else.

“Well, your mother had the same nose as you. Your father shares my face. He’d have a beard like mine, too. He would be big and strong. Your mother shared my wife’s golden blonde hair. They also had the same eyes as you. Deep blue eyes. As blue as the ocean. I’m sure your brother would share the same blue eyes and golden hair. He wasn’t much younger than you are now.”

“What about Hrut?” Svala asks.

“Hrut had blue eyes too. Same with his hair. It was dirty, like mine instead of the clean golden hair his mother had. He also got a nose like mine.”

“I remember now. He did have an enormous nose,” Svala says. My eyes fall flat.

“Well, papa and mama, and little brother, if you are listening, I hope your voyage went smoothly. I’m stuck here with uncle Bothvi. He’s okay. He’s like a big bear. He even has a cloak made out of bear fur.” She pauses and looks up at me. “What else should I say?”

“Well, you’re doing pretty good so far. You definitely pinned down the old bear. Although you missed the part about his grumbling,” Svala says.

“Yeah, papa, Bothvi grumbles a lot. Just like a bear.”

Svala laughs hard. “He also loves to snore. Loudly. I bet ya we all know who can speak the truth on that, right Arni?”

Svala’s smile widens. “Yep, Arni agrees with me. She says you snore louder than a boar.”

Thora laughs so hard that she hiccups. “What else did Arni say?”

“Well,” Svala sits up and scratches her head. Her face softens as she looks up at me. “She says she misses us. She wishes she had one last moment with us, especially the bear.”

I look at Svala and search for… Does she really see them? She smiles at me. “She also says Hrut is growing up fast. He’s already a man. He literally just sprung into a man a few sunrises ago. It was so sudden.”

I laugh so hard that I nearly choke. Did I really think she could speak to the dead? I look back at Svala and she beams with joy. And so does Thora. The two of them are wearing smiles that make the sun seem dull when it is out. “Let’s go inside and eat. Winter is finally over. I can feel it.”

“Yay!” Thora says as she jumps to her feet and sprints down the dock. Svala runs behind her.

“Hey! No running on the dock,” I yell at them and they ignore me.”

—

“You’re too short,” I say, with my hand on her head as she tries to punch and kick me.

“I am not too short. You’re just too tall!” She snaps back, then she tries to grab my arm and pull me down, but she is like a baby pulling on a tree. I only laugh. “Don’t laugh! I’m going to be the greatest warrior to ever come out of the Kraken clan!”

That makes me laugh even harder. “How will you do that? You can’t even land a punch on me?”

“You just wait, uncle. I’ll punch you good. So good, you’ll… You’ll… You’ll.” She pauses to think about it. “You just won’t like it.

I chuckle. “Is that so? Well, let’s see it.”

She tries to move past my arm, but she’s too small. Her little tiny arms can’t reach me. “This isn’t fair!”

“Rule one, Thora, life isn’t fair, and neither is battle. You can’t expect fairness from either. If you’re planning on hitting an enemy as big as me, you’re going to need to use your head to do so. The mind is a sharper weapon than the sword. Think!”

She takes a second before she grins. She backs up a bit, crouches down, and springs forward. Once again, my hand’s in her path. Suddenly she flings up dirt in my eyes and spins off my hand. Her little fist pelts my side with a punch.

“Ha! Take that, uncle,” she says as I wipe the dirt from my eyes.

“Clever girl. I’ll give ya that one. You took my advice and applied it. Good, but next time you won’t get away with the same trick. I’ll be ready for it. What will you do then?”

“I’ll figure something out. You just wait,” she says with a smirk as she wipes the dirt-stained sweat off her brow.

“I guess I’ll have to, I suspect supper is ready. Come, little one, let us eat. Your grandmother will want to have lessons for you after,” I say as I ruffle the girl’s hair into a bigger mess than it already is.” Then you should spend time chopping wood.”

“Chopping wood? That’s slave work!” she says, sticking out her bottom lip.

“Nonsense, chopping wood helps you develop your swing and builds your strength as long as you do it correctly. Now come, mother and aunt will have lessons for you.”

“Ahh, I don’t want to. I want to learn how to use a sword and an ax!” she says, brushing her messy golden blonde hair out of her face. The same hair Arngunn and Asfrid shared. I see so much of both of them in her and it hurts, but at the same time, it’s bitter-sweet. There’s a lot of Thorkel in her as well. Her determination is the same as his. She’s all I have left of all of them. She’s so much like Thorkel, I have a hard time not thinking of her as a sister instead of my niece. Because of it, I let her get away with far too much.

We head into the hall where the family is, squabbling amongst themselves. As soon as mother sees me, she rushes over to little Thora and sighs. Behind her, two familiar elven women walk behind wearing the Elvish magic restricting slave collars. I recognize them and remember them from long ago. One is Valindra and the other is Renna. They serve my mother and my Aunt Sigvor now. I can’t help but feel bitter. Every time I look at the elves, I see that red-haired bastard who killed my brother.

Even so, I know not all elves are the same, just like not all humans are the same, or even Northerners for that matter. Oddly, they seem rather attached to my mother. She has that effect on people. She can be rather scary at times, but she has a way of making people loyal to her. Same with my Aunt Sigvor. Silent most of the time, but she has an enormous heart. My mother is quite the opposite when it comes to being quiet, but they both share the same golden heart. Even their slaves hold them in such high regard. I believe it is because they don’t treat them like most do. They treat them fairly as they treat everyone. Although I’d argue my mother treats her children more harshly than most. My backside will agree. But she does it with love. “By the gods, girl, have you been wrestling with pigs? You’re as dirty as one and you smell like one. You need to bathe.”

“Uncle Bothvi has been teaching me to fight. I punched him good,” she says.

“Yeah, it tickled,” I say, rather too flatly. She punches me in the thigh. I look down at her with a grin. “Are you trying to make me laugh, girl?”

She flails at me with punches, I just brush her aside like a gnat, heading past the hearths and into the dining hall where a table of food lies, past the rows of tables against the wall, stretching all the way to the right of my father’s keep. A keep that has been built upon by our ancestors and has been made strong by stone and metal. It is far larger than anything I’ve ever seen in the Northern clans. A keep on top of the highest hill before the mountains. The hill itself is surrounded by walls and towers. And several large houses of my father’s closest friends line the lower level of the hill. My stomach roars. I give it a good pat. “I’m hungry.”

Thormar, Bodvar, and Svala are already eating with father as slaves scramble to get more drink and food. I grab my own plate, fill it, and take my seat by Thormar with a chair I had to bring down to hold my weight. I even had to replace all the tables and my bed in my room with reinforced metal ones.

By the gods Thormar has changed since Thorkel’s Death. It’s hard not to see him as my aloof little brother who always asks lots of annoying questions and throws temper tantrums. But now, he seems so reserved and full of anger all the time. His eyes bear shadows that never were there before and he eats in silence.

Bodvar and Svala have too changed, neither seem as carefree as they once were. Svala picks at her food while Bodvar eats as if it were just another task, no hint of that goofy smile he always wore.

My great uncle Alvi and Gudrod walk in, grabbing a plate before they take a seat. I must say, Gudrod is a lot older than when I last saw him. He’s a little older than Bodvar. Almost raiding age. He’s grown a bit taller, still not as tall as Thormar, but close. Still has a baby-fresh face with no hair at all.

“Hey, Bothvar!” He says with that same smile. Some things never change.

“Hey, Gudrod. Hey Uncle Alvi,” I say with a nod.

“We’re doing great! Alvi has been teaching me all about raiding. Soon, I’ll be old enough to raid myself. I’m only a few cycles shy and then I’ll be able to join your crew. I can’t wait!” His smile reaches ear to ear.

“I don’t really raid…”

“Will you finally come to your senses, my son, and raid this summer?” Father asks, butting in as he picks pieces out of his bread to eat.

“My place is here, teaching Thora, besides, it seems like Thormar stepped in to take my place,” I say.

The little girl breaks away from mother and runs around the table as the old woman chases after. “Get back here. You’re taking a bath whether you like it or not.”

“You’ll never get me!” she screams as she manages to get to the opposite side of the tables.

“Just take a bath already, Thora. You stink like pig shit,” Svala says in a mumble as she twirls her spoon around her food.

“Uncle, will you talk some sense into the boy?” father asks Alvi.

Uncle only shrugs. “Bothvar, I was once in your boots. After my wife and children died, I had no will to continue on. I was lost, and I didn’t know what to do about it. It is good that you have found a purpose in raising little Thora, but you also have to remember your people. Even though we survived The Longest Night, as you well know, many did not. Who knows when another winter will come just like that, or worse. If we do not raid, we will not eat. That is how we get our resources. Thora definitely needs you, but if you want her to gain the honor and glory of her father, you need to show her how it is done by leading by example.”

“You have to raid, Bothvar. You are the greatest warrior I know. If you don’t go, who will make sure everyone comes back safely?” Gudrod says.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” father says.

I let out a sigh, but don’t argue as Thora sprints around the table with mother chasing after her, bumping into Thormar. Thormar slams his fist on the table after he spills his drink everywhere.

I’m surprised he doesn’t have his maps with him. He’s been obsessed with those maps ever since Uncle Koll brought one back after summer raids as a boy. I look up at my father. “Father, why don’t you go west? That is what Thorkel wanted to do. Not to mention, from what I have heard, the elves have a good many islands and trade routes.”

Thormar looks up at me from his plate and blinks, then he turns to father.

“Fighting the elves is a losing battle. We have nothing to combat their magic. I also don’t want to fight the Pirates either. Some of them are allies and others use magic as well,” father says as he gives me dirty looks.

“Why don’t we use magic?” Thormar asks, seeming to come out of his stupor.

“I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t hurl balls of fire,” father says.

“But what if we could get people who can?” Thormar asks. It’s hard to believe my little brother is a man now. He has Thorkel’s ambitions. They both wanted to raid west. Part of me wishes we had. Of course, Thormar has always wanted to explore the unknown. That’s one of the few things the two shared. Now, he’s old enough to raid and has been already.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Father asks as people enter the hall. Koll and Einar Alriksson, along with Throst Thorhallson join us at the table. My father’s closest friends.

“We could capture slaves who do magic. We could train them like you train a dog. Those collars the elves use prohibit their magic, so we could maybe find a way to use collars to control their magic,” Thormar says. My mother continues to chase Thora around the hall before the little girl gets caught by my father, who holds her into a headlock and further messes up her hair as she laughs while struggling to get free.

My mother takes Thora from my father and practically has to drag her away as she kicks and claws.

Father turns his attention to the visitors after they’ve been given food and drink. “Greetings, my friends. How is the kin?”

“Ask me after I’ve drunk enough ale,” Einar grumbles. “One son always has his nose in books. My oldest is an excellent warrior but should read a book or two. Sadly, my daughters show the most potential. At least if they don’t kill each other.”

“What about your sister’s son? May she feast in the halls of the gods,” my father asks.

“He’s a coward. The boy will never survive in a fight. He can’t stomach it. Passes out every time he even sees a drop of blood,” Einar says, disdain dripping from his words. He’s graying in his prominently black beard and long hair. 

His twin brother, Koll, slaps his arm. “Could be worse. I can’t get a moment of silence in my own home between my three wives and all the children I’ve lost count of. My children’s children are now getting old enough to argue. Veleif’s four daughters are enough to drive me crazy. Toss in Gili’s daughter and my three grandsons who are now old enough to raid along with Tyrkir’s baby boy who never stops crying, and my house has become a battlefield. Let alone all of their wives and my daughters who never stop fighting each other. When they’re not arguing with each other, they join forces to argue against me.”

Father laughs. “You’re the madman who married three wives. I can hardly handle one.”

“The thing is, they get along quite well with each other. They’re nearly inseparable. I couldn’t marry one without the other two since they were all the bestest of friends from childhood, but women just love to argue. And the worst thing is, they’re all smart and cunning. Women should never be allowed to be so smart. I feel as if I’m in a constant game of war with them. And I always seem to lose.” Koll sighs and takes a long drink from his mug and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

After letting out a loud belch, he wipes his mouth and continues. “It’s bad enough that Ingithora and Svanhild get enough sex from each that they’ll hold out on me just to spite me when I anger them, which is all the time. I don’t even know what I do to anger them. And Amora is rarely ever in the mood. What is the point of having three wives if none of them want to have sex? Madness, I tell you. Thank the gods they don’t care if I fuck the slave girl,” Koll says before he downs the rest of the mug. My father wears a keen smirk as he sips his ale. Koll slams his mug down with another burp. “Of course, that is when Ingithora and Svanhild don’t hog her. Melissa, the slave, is a good woman. Tender and kind. She knows how to treat a man. She also apparently knows how to treat a woman…”

“Thank the gods my wife isn’t like that. She doesn’t play those games. I just wish she’d give me a son already. I’ve put six babies in her and they’ve all come out girls. How is that possible?” Throst asks as he runs a hand through his red hair and leans back in his chair.

Koll slaps him on the shoulder. “You can have one of mine.”

“Aye, maybe we can marry off my daughter to one of your grandsons. My youngest two are about the same age,” Throst says.

Koll shrugs. “If your daughter agrees to marry one of my grandsons, I’m all for it. I know the little bastards would love to have any one of your daughters.”

Throst only shrugs. “I know Alfeid has always had an eye on Gudrik and Asdis is always seen with Starolf. They’d be perfect for each other.”

Father just shrugs and takes a sip. “So, my friends, what are your thoughts about the summer raids? My son thinks we should sail west.”

The men all look at me.

“So, you’re finally going to raid once again, Bothvar?” Einar asks.

“No.”

“Why not?” Einar asks. “Most of the men in the village heard of some of the exploits of your self-exile all those cycles ago. We heard of your victory against the Bone Eaters from the Valkyrie clan. They talk of you as some type of god who can’t be touched on the battlefield. They say you slaughtered them like cattle. Never even getting a scratch while leaving a mountain of corpses. There are stories of how you killed a bear with your bare hands and fought hordes of yeti and those Shadow Stalkers in the mountains. They’ve seen that yeti horn and the antlers you have. Let alone the fact that you have saved us all from starvation. Surely, you’re not afraid to raid.”

“I didn’t kill any yeti. I was friends with the yeti. If it weren’t for them, I would’ve been killed by the Shadow Stalkers. Those fiends will kill anything they come across. And I didn’t kill the bear with my bare hands, I killed it with an ax and a bow. Besides, I made a promise to look after Thora and teach her how to be strong. Isn’t that our way?”

“Yes, it is, and that is why we raid. To provide for our young. This is our way. It always has been,” Koll says with a stern look. “Don’t you want to provide for Thora?”

“Didn’t you also make a promise to avenge Thorkel? How will you do that if you don’t raid?” Father asks.

“Besides, we all know too well what happens when we do not have enough to provide for our people when winter comes. The Longest Night may prove to be the first of many,” Throst says.

I grit my teeth as I ponder the old men’s words. What they say makes sense. If we were more successful in our raids, maybe my beloved Arni, my baby boy, Asfrid, and Thorkel’s son would still be alive. But still, what about Thora? Can I leave her alone? I’m supposed to guide her and train her to be like her father. The girl suddenly bursts into the room in trousers and a shirt far too big for her. Her hair soaking wet. My exasperated mother walks in behind her with Sigvor silently snickering.

“Perhaps,” is all I say.

“By the way, I’m the one who wanted to sail west,” Thormar speaks up.

“Is that so? What do you hope to find out west? Have you not heard of the monsters that swim in the deep seas out west? The Kraken will bring our ships down to the depths if the Charybdis doesn’t get us in its jaws. Not to mention the pesky Merrow.”

“Are the Merrow not merpeople? I’ve heard tales of the beauty of mermaids. Surely, they aren’t the same thing, are they?” Thormar asks. The little brother I remember from our childhood is slowly coming out from the walls he’s built. He used to be so curious about everything. Always asking questions. But now, if I hadn’t brought up going west, he would’ve left the topic buried in silence. What has happened to my little brother?

“They are different. Think of the Merrow as savage merpeople. They eat human flesh and will hunt anything that enters its waters,” Throst says.

“I haven’t seen a mermaid before. I wouldn’t hold weight to such nonsense unless I see it with my own eyes,” Einar says. Uncle Alvi snores as he sleeps, sitting up.

“We also have to look out for Jotnar ships. The giants have massive ships that could trample our own. They’ll take you alive and eat you like the Bone Eaters,” Throst says.

“I heard they sacrifice humans to their giant god they worship. A giant that is the size of a mountain and could squash a house with its foot,” Thormar says.

“Where do you hear these tales?” Einar asks.

“Your son, Eystein, told me. He said he read…”

“Do not listen to my son. The boy reads too many books. He knows not of the world because he hardly steps out of the house. How can you know of the world if you haven’t seen any of it?” Einar asks.

“But he knows lots of things. He told me that if I take the seawater, boil it, and trap the steam in something, we can drink the steam. He read that in a book,” Thormar says at Einar with a challenging gaze. “Trandil and I have even gone to the dwarf Aldam for his help in making a device we can take out on raids that will allow us to make seawater drinking water.”

Einar huffs. “Trandil and Eystein are fool boys who don’t know their heads from their asses.”

“But they’re your blood. How can you say that about them?” Thormar asks.

“They may be my blood, but they’re still foolish boys,” Einar says, slamming his fist on the table.

“Aye, but you have to admit, brother, the water thingy does have its merits,” Koll says, slapping Einar on the shoulder.

My father slams his mug on the table after emptying it and stands up. “I propose we go out for a hunt. Winter is over. I bet we can find a big fat boar or maybe some bear coming out of their sleep.”

“A hunt sounds fun indeed,” Throst says with a smile.

“Yes, I need something to kill before I head home. I know my wives surely have some scheme brewing,” Koll says.

“Yeah, a hunt sounds needed. Let’s kill us a bear. I need a good challenge,” Einar says.

“Are you coming, Bothvar?” my father asks. I nod as I finish the food on my plate.

“I want to come,” Bodvar says.

“Me too!” Svala utters.

Father looks at the two of them through his cool blue eyes, combing his beard with his fingers. “I suppose you’re both old enough to go out hunting. Just stay in the back, be quiet, and do as I tell you to.”

Father looks up at Thormar. “You’re coming too. But stay back with Bodvar and Svala.”

“Wait, a second. I will not have my two youngest out on these wild boar chases,” mother says.

“I want to come!” Thora shouts as she jumps on the table.

“No!” I snap rather quickly and a little too intensely. Thora jumps back and trips. I grab her shirt before she falls back on her arse. “You’re too young and too reckless.”

“Ahhh, but…”

“No buts,” I say.

Thora sticks out her bottom lip and pouts. She glares at me. That little face of hers melts my heart like a hot forge, but I won’t budge on this. “When you get Bodvar’s age, I’ll think about it.”

“Okay…” she says as she climbs off the table.

“Come, child. Let me read you a story about the goddess Idunn and the tale of how Flosi tricked her and tried to take her to the giant Thiazi,” Sigvor says.

“Did she escape? Is she alright?” Thora asks.

“You’re just going to have to come and find out,” Sigvor says.

I make sure they get Thora to chop wood when they’re done and try to ingrain the proper way of cutting wood to her, which she, of course, shrugs off. I rush up to grab my hunting supplies, but stop at the beam Thorkel and I found Thormar pounding nails into. The beam is covered from top to bottom with nails and hammer indents. I remember when Thorkel and I found Thormar hammering what feels like a long time ago. He told us father told him to do it whenever he lashes out with his anger. Thorkel thought it was amusing, but looking at this beam covered in nails and dents…

 I look down at Thormar as he finishes his food and then talks to an elven male slave, he took during his time raiding while I stayed back to raise Thora. I don’t remember the slave’s name. Thormar seems so reserved and lost. What happened to my little brother? He’s no longer that curious and kind boy I remember. Why were Thorkel and I so mean to him? Never including him in any of our adventures. Always teasing him and pushing him away. Even Bodvar and Svala have given him a hard time. Especially Bodvar. I’m beginning to fully understand the consequences of my actions. What seemed like such harmless teasing has really taken its toll on my little brother. Each word left a cut on him and those cuts have become scars and this beam shows all of the scars my brother has endured.

“Bothvar, are you coming?” Bodvar asks as he throws his hunting bow over his shoulder. I shake the thoughts from my head, nod, and grab my gear.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

Bothvar Beorcolsson

The smell feels familiar. A sour, musky smell of a man that hasn’t bathed in a while. I sniff myself for a second. It’s slightly different from my own. “Whoever you are, you visit death to trespass in my cave!”

“Bothvar? Is that you?” A familiar voice echoes out.

“You sound familiar. Name yourself,” I shout back.

“It is your old friend, Skardi,” the voice calls back.

“Skardi? Is it really you?” I ask.

He steps out from the side of the cavern wall. “By the gods, it is you. It’s been a long time, my friend.”

I walk up and pull him into a great big bear hug. He grunts and breathes out. “You’re crushing me.”

I let him down and take a good look at him as he does the same. His eyes don’t seem to recognize me, nor does he look happy to see me. He’s grown a beard and his eyes look weary. He’s even skinnier than before. Bone thin. His skin barely is stretched tight against his gaunt face.

“You don’t look like the Bothvar I know. You’re bigger. Your skin is darker. You have a beard, but I suppose that is to be expected after living in a cave for all winter and fall. Your eyes are a lot harder than Bothvar’s. They seem to be the same color, but there’s a strange glow to them. You stand differently than Bothvar, and you look like a wild man.” Skardi says with his eyes narrowed to fine points as he looks me up and down, rubbing the scruffy beard on his chin.

“Well, I can explain. But first tell me, why do you look so thin? You look like a walking skeleton with skin. Here, eat these. They’ll help.” I quickly grab him some mushrooms and a cup of the glow rock water. “Drink this.”

He doesn’t hesitate to drink and eat what I give him. “The mushrooms and the water. They turn your skin dark, but you don’t need to eat much of them to feel rejuvenated. They’re a blessing. They heal and make strong the senses. The water toughens the body. Makes you strong, but only to the extent of your own efforts in forging your body with hard work. However, I am afraid to say no matter how strong I get, I still can’t lift that bloody hammer. It is as if it is one with the ground. I will lift that damn thing. You mark my words, but it seems I’ll have to return home without it.”

“Bothvar…”

I stare at the hammer on its altar and feel disappointed. “It seems my entire stay here has been for nothing. Well, maybe not for nothing. I am far stronger. I have known true pain and sorrow. But I have also discovered something more. I do not know how to put this into words. But I have found meaning, I suppose. I will return home to my family and show them all that I have learned. I can’t wait to see my son and my wife. And Thorkel’s kids, I will take them as my own and help Asfrid raise them. That is to be.”

“Bothvar…”

“It seems I have become a new man, Skardi. A new man indeed.”

“Bothvar… I… I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Skardi’s eyes seem to have hollowed as he stares through me. “I… I have to tell you. I just… I’m sorry, Bothvar. I truly am.”

“Just say what you have to say, Skardi.” What has happened? Please don’t tell me something happened to someone I care about. I’ve lost too much; I can’t bear the thought of losing someone else.

“Stormfront has suffered greatly. Winter never ends. Night seems to last forever. We grew hungry. Food was scarce. We tried to fish, but it seems the fish are gone. We hunt to find nothing. The land is a baron wasteland of frozen death. Many have died. So many,” he says as tears rain down in his eyes.

“What are you saying?” I ask as I feel my chest tighten. “Tell me.”

He looks up into my eyes with the pain of a thousand cuts. “I’m so sorry, Bothvar. I did everything I could. We all did.”

“What? Tell me now, Skardi! Tell me!” I roar, nearly causing the poor skeleton of a man to stumble back.

“Please forgive me. I don’t know why I live when so many others have died. It is not fair. The gods are angry with us. They punish us,” Skardi says as he drops to his knees.

“Just say it!” I growl.

“Arni… your son… Asfrid and her baby boy. Ottkatla Gudleifdottir, Ragneid Ketildottir, Hedinfrid Jomardottir, and so many more. They’re all dead. Died from The Longest Night. Died of hunger. We had no food.”

“Arni? My son? What do you mean, they are dead? They can’t possibly be dead. They are mine! They are strong. Something such as hunger could not kill them. I won’t allow it,” I say as my blood heats up like a burning fire.

“I’m so sorry, Bothvar. I had to tell you. They all died because I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t save anyone. I am not worthy of being your friend. I have failed you,” he says as he weeps at my feet.

The anger seems to boil over as I rush up to the hammer and pull with all my might. I want to break everything! Destroy this place. They’re all dead because I wasn’t there for them. I failed them. I dig my feet in and use every last drop of rage in me to pull this damn hammer out. The ground cracks beneath my feet as I pull. The cave shakes and groans from my might. Chunks fall from the ceiling, but I do not give in.

“You must stop it or you’ll cause the whole cave to fall on us!” Skardi shouts.

I can’t stop. If I stop, it means I have lost everything for nothing. Why! Why won’t you budge! I must have the strength to kill those who have taken everything from me. I have to wield this hammer. All I’ve done here can’t have been for nothing.

I finally give up and drop to my knees, filled with anguish. How do I kill hunger?

I weep as tears fall down my face. It is all my fault. Amalasontha and the Valkyrie were right, and I was wrong. And it only cost me everything to learn it. Instead of trying to lift this damn hammer so I could kill the bastard elf who took my brother, I should’ve been home providing for my family. They’d still be alive if I was.

My heart breaks to dust within my chest. But I cannot give in to grief now. There will be time for sorrow. I must get back to my clan. My people need me. I must take care of them. They can’t pay for my mistakes. I cannot let Amalasontha’s lessons go unpracticed. This is what Arni would’ve wanted.

—

Before we leave, we take as many mushrooms as we can and fill a jog with the water.

I return home with Skardi to a place I no longer recognize. It feels like a town of ghosts as the people barely clinging to life. They need staves to keep themselves upright. I grew strong at the cost of my people’s strength, and the people I loved paid with their lives for my strength.

I enter the keep of my father to find him in his seat, but he looks as if he’s a man already dead, just clinging to life with his final breaths. His face is that of a skull, covered in skin, with a beard. His eyes meet mine, and he doesn’t even recognize me.

I hand the bag of mushrooms to Skardi. “Hand these out to everyone you find, along with the water. Start with my family first and then the rest as you see fit. I will head back for more.”

I grab the biggest sacks, tying them to my belt before grabbing two of the largest empty barrels I can find, lifting them over my shoulders. I then run back up the mountain to the cave. The time I take to get there seems to get shorter each time. Even the snow doesn’t hinder me any longer.

Once I get to my cave, I fill the barrels, seal them, and set them outside. With my ax and sword, I run from cave to cave, filling the sacks with mushrooms. One was once filled with those creatures before I killed them all. I skip that cave, fearing those fiends have tainted it. I finally fill up both sacks and head back to my cave. I look down at my sword and ax before I toss them aside in the cave. These weapons have cost me too much. Maybe one day I will pick them up once more, but not now. Not when I have lost everything, including the will to fight.

With the sacks tied to my belt, I hoist the barrels up over my shoulders and run back down the mountain to the town. I get there none too soon. Setting the barrels in the keep where Skardi waits with an empty sack. My family has all come out and they all look gaunt, but even my father looks better now. Skardi looks as if he is standing straighter. He looks less like a skeleton.

“Gather all the clan. We need to dish out these mushrooms and water,” I command. Skardi rushes off. I get Thormar to eat and drink.

My mother looks at me wearily as she walks up to me with Aunt Sigvor behind. Her eyes search me as she tries to find her son. “Bothvar? Is that really you, my son?”

She reaches up to me, and I take her hand in mine, holding it to my cheek. She is so cold. Tears well up in her eyes as she collapses in my arms. “It is you. You’ve come back. I knew you would. My dear, Bothvar. Everyone thought you were dead, but I knew you were still alive.”

She cries as she clings to my chest. I just hold her in my arms as she weeps. She finally pulls herself together to look into my eyes. A smile grows upon her face. A weak smile. “You’ve grown so much. I no longer see the little boy I gave birth to. What happened to you?”

“I have been forged by the mountains, but it seems I have taken the wrong path. My people suffer while I grow strong. Skardi told me my wife and child have died along with Asfrid and her son. Is this true?”

My mother’s face shows the pain I was so afraid of. Her cheeks have sunken in and she looks so frail and feeble. They all look weakened by hunger and the cold. My mother weeps once more. “I’m so… so very sorry, my son. I tried to save them. I tried everything. But Thorkel’s son died in the womb. It was already hard for Asfrid after Thorkel died, but when she lost her son, she lost the will to live. I tried everything I could, but Asfrid no longer had the strength to carry on. She wouldn’t eat. Not that we had food to spare, but I tried my hardest to get her to eat what little I could give. She was the second to die.”

My mother’s eyes drift off into the distance, lost in the dark and sad past. She finally takes a deep breath and lets it out before her eyes, covered in shadows with bags hanging underneath, meet mine. “Arngunn was devastated at losing her sister. She also refused to eat. Giving her portions to your son and Thora. I tried to feed her. I tried to force her to eat, but she was struck with grief. Then a rumor spread that you were dead. People thought you wouldn’t survive the winter in the mountains. If that wasn’t bad enough, a sickness spread through the town. Many died. Many, including your son. Sigvor, Ingithora, and I tried everything. We used all the herbs we could to heal the sick. To heal your son, but nothing worked. It broke my heart more than anything when he stopped breathing. I tried to give him my own breath, but he couldn’t take it. After that, Arni too gave up on life. She wilted away like a flower in fall until she too died. My child, I am so sorry. I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t save anyone.”

I just pull her into my arms and hold her. I don’t think I have a heart left to feel anymore. “The fault is not yours. It is mine. I should’ve never left. My family needed me, and I was not here when it mattered. They died because I chose the path of revenge. I am to blame for this. I alone.”

“No… my son. You are not to blame. I am,” my father says as he stands from his chair and hobbles over to me. He puts a thin hand that’s bone wrapped in skin on my shoulder. “It is I who casted you out. I was so angry. When I heard of Thorkel’s death, I was in pain. I was not thinking clearly. I said words to you I wish I could’ve had back. When the rumor spread about your death, my heart nearly grew still. I couldn’t forgive myself…

His gaze drops to the floor as tears fall from his eyes. “I knew it was my faut. Because I couldn’t handle the loss of one son, I casted another out and lost two. That led me to fall into grief so consuming that I did nothing when my people needed me most. I all but abandoned them in my grief. I sat here trapped in the past, thinking about what I could’ve done differently if only I had gone with you both on that raid. I would’ve been the one to sacrifice myself, not Thorkel. Then you’d both still be here. It is my fault.”

My father sobs, and I pull him into a hug. “It is not your fault, father. You did what you thought was right to send us out on the raid. War might still come. And I cannot blame a father for grieving for a son because I now know what it feels like to lose a child. It hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt, and I believed I knew the worst of pain.”

He wraps his arms around me and holds me as tight as his weak arms can hold. “I am proud of you, son. You are a better man than I. You who are justified to be mad. To be angry. Instead, you stood strong and did what was right for the people. You saved us all. Your heart does not deserve the pain it bears.”

“I no longer have one, father. It grew cold and still within my chest.” I say and turn away as people trickle in. The sight made my stomach turn. It was as if the dead could walk. I swallow and grab the sack of mushrooms. I turn to my mother and my aunt. “Get cups and bowls. Everyone must drink this water and eat these mushrooms.”

“Bothvar?” I look over to see Svala walking out. She can barely stand up straight. She’s holding a frail, thin little girl. “Is that really you?”

“Svala, come, you and Thora must eat these mushrooms and drink this water,” I say as I rush up to her.

“No, I don’t have time. You must help. Bodvar… He’s dying. There’s something wrong. Please help us,” she says, pleading as tears fall from her eyes. I follow her into Bodvar’s room where he lies on his bed, as thin as a twig. His skin clings to his bones with hardly any muscle or fat at all. He’s foaming at the mouth.

“What has happened?” I ask.

“I don’t know… He’s been eating that… That poison. That glimmer the elves call it. Someone had it from raiding the elven ships, and Bodvar started taking it after your son died. He blames himself. He just started foaming at the mouth. I think he took too much. I don’t know what to do. You have to help him, please. I can’t lose him too,” she says, freaking out.

“Calm down, go get Aunt Sigvor and mother, and bring the water and mushrooms,” I tell her as I kneel down and turn him on his side so the foam drips down and he doesn’t choke on it or his tongue. I check for a heartbeat. It’s barely there. My mother and Aunt Sigvor stagger in with Svala holding a cup of water with those glowing mushrooms. My father is behind her with Thormar and Thora.

My aunt kneels down. “I’ve seen this before. I’ll be right back…”

She stumbles out and several minutes later comes in with an incense. She ignites it and has me get Bodvar sitting up. We try to get him to breathe it in as she holds it over his nose. Slowly, after a while, Bodvar becomes conscious. He opens his eyes halfway…

“Bothvar…” His head sways back and forth. “What’s going on…”

“What were you thinking, taking this glimmer?” Mother snaps at him. “You almost died. We nearly lost you.”

Tears start falling down Bodvar’s face. “I just wanted to feel better. I just wanted the pain to stop. I tried so hard to save them. I couldn’t save your son. I’m so sorry. Please… Please forgive me, brother. Your son is dead and it should’ve been me instead. I tried everything…”

I pull my brother into my arms and embrace him. “It is not your fault, Bodvar. It is mine. I shouldn’t have been away for so long.”

He breaks down and sobs in my arms and my heart breaks with him. This is all my fault. I lost the two people who made life worth living, and now my family is broken.

When I finally break from my brother, I get him to eat more mushrooms and drink more water before he gets some rest.

I make sure every last one of my people eats the mushrooms and drinks the water. Especially my family and friends. I make sure to get rid of all traces of that glimmer poison. I burn it all. Thankfully, the Mushrooms seem to have a reverse effect and help Bodvar recover rather fast.

I make several more trips up and down the mountain to get more before every last man, woman, and child is fed

—

I stumble out to the docks with a knife in my hand.

I’ve lost everything. I can no longer bear the pain anymore. All I want is to see my wife and child. This world… This life has nothing left for me anymore. The clouds have taken over the sky and snuffed out the sun. I find that pendant hanging around my neck. The one I never gave Arni. I rip it off and throw it as far as I can into the icy waters, beyond the frozen shore. Snow assaults our city, coming down with a wrath. I hold the knife to my chest, the tip pointing towards my stone-cold shattered heart. Arngunn, please forgive me.

“What are you doing?” I turn to find my mother walking out on the dock to me. “My poor child, what in the name of the gods are you doing!”

“I can no longer bear the pain anymore mother. My wife and child are gone, and it’s all my fault. I can’t live this life without them. I can’t do it,” I say. Tears of sorrow burden my eyes.

“You have to. If you die like this, you will never see them again. You will die without honor and will be cursed to wander the icy tundra of Niflheim; your suffering will be eternal. This I will not allow,” she says as she takes a step closer. “I’ve already lost four of my children, your brother, his wife, and our dear Arngunn, along with your son. I will not lose you too.”

“I don’t know how to live with this pain, mother. It hurts so much.” I grit my teeth as I look down at the knife pointing at my broken heart.

“You have to learn to live with it, my son. If you ever want to see your brother, wife, and the children again, you will learn to live with it. You must live a life of honor and duty so you can feast with them again in Valholl when you finally take the last voyage. Please,” she says, slowly stepping towards me. Tears run down like a river from her eyes. She wraps her shaking hand around mine, prying my fingers off of the blade until it drops, crashing through the wood to the sea below.

I turn away from her and face the endless sea as I drop to my knees while the winter storm rages on, reflecting my pain. I endure the blizzard’s wrath and I allow myself to weep. My mother kneels down and wraps me in her embrace. I weep for my baby boy and my beloved wife. I cry for Longhorn, White-hair, and Short-Snubs. Shedding tears for Tonna and her fallen sisters. Rain falls from my eyes for my brother, his wife, and son. I cry for the people who died while I grew strong.

Then I let out a roar back at the storm as if we’re at war. But right then and there, the storm breaks. The snow stops, the clouds break, and a ray of light showers down behind me. Both my mother and I gasp in amazement before we turn to look back as the ray of sunlight lays down on a single spot, and my eyes widen in astonishment. The light shines down upon a little girl, a little more than a cycle old walking out to me. No. Not just any girl. I see it now. She is the Daughter of the Sea. My hope has been renewed, and I make this promise that I will never abandon my people again and I will live a life with honor. I will serve my duty to those who still live. I will see Thorkel’s blood live on in this girl. With the breaths I have left, I will guide Thora, the Daughter of the Sea to honor and glory. I will earn my place next to my brother and I will see my beloved wife and our child once again in the next life. That is my vow.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

Lura Syllana

I spend the next several days reading and rereading the book, trying to puzzle out the notes, and doing a lot of chores required for my hours. I knocked out quite a few doing six hours a day. There are quite a few notes in here that tell me what I should focus on for passing the test. It is like the person who wrote the notes provided us with a cheat sheet. What he says about the journey in the notes seems to be personal, as if he lived through what was written in the book. It really makes me wonder how life was like back then, living in the presence of gods.

All four of us, Biremeril, Ralodan, Melyis and I, take the test at the same time and all pass without getting a question wrong. Unfortunately, we had to hand the books back.

Thankfully, level one is taught by a stray, Haemyish, and she is far more helpful than Olizara. Unfortunately, the book we are given is The Light of the World by Mathienne Naesalor instead of Terel. Sadly, Terel is said to be dead, so we can’t go to him for answers. He died a while after the Angel Akrasiel sacrificed himself. His death was a mystery in and of itself. He was one of the strongest in the Light, so he should’ve lived for a long time. In fact, most of the original disciples of Akrasiel are still alive, including the High Mother, Mathienne Naesalor, the author of the current book. I heard that Damaris is one of her closest disciples, along with Mother Vedana Oddheart and Mother Nostra Longswitch. The latter two were also among the original disciples of Akrasiel, along with Riluaneth Waeszeiros, Colvardonn, Anfather, and Amaranthae. All of them are of the ranks of Mother and Father. Strangely though, the High Father, Arbelladon Warmspear, and several other Mothers and Fathers, including Chaetris Rapidbirth and Fylson Greran, were not among the original disciples of Akrasiel and weren’t even with the church at the time of his presence.

The book was written by the High Mother and is quite interesting and teaches about the history of the church itself. Some of it overlaps with Terel’s book, but it also goes into detail of the time after Akrasiel and even Terel’s deaths. Detailing the creation of the Paladin order and how the ranks of the church were formed along with the election of each High Father, including Arbelladon, which is strife with controversy. It was between him and Anfather; however, it was rumored that he won over Anfather because of rumors that Anfather was in a relationship with an Accepted, although they were later proven to be untrue.

I was completely shocked to find that there are notes hidden deep within The High Mother’s book as well, and they must be by Terel also. They’re in the same handwriting as Terel’s and it’s a bit different from the High Mother’s. Shockingly, they question the church’s decision to outlaw attachments and relationships. Are these Terel’s notes? He wasn’t alive when this was publicized. What if it’s actually Mathienne’s notes? Maybe she also has secrets. Or maybe I’m thinking too much into it… I really need to get my hands on the rest of those books.

All three, Biremeril, Ralodan, and Melyis, also have the same notes. After class one day, all four of us decided to approach Haemyish about it.

“I’m not surprised you four can see the notes,” Haemyish says as she considers us. “Sister Damaris has an uncanny knack for recruiting people who seem to have whatever qualities or traits that Terel was searching for when he placed the charm on the books.”

“So, he did write the notes?” I ask, trading glances with the other three.

“I take it none of you have read the hidden books, then?” she asks. All four of us shake our heads no. “They’re in the hands of someone else.”

“Well then, we can’t talk any more of this until you have. None of it will make sense otherwise. So, I advise that until you can read the books you focus on passing the test. You already know what you need to focus on since you have the notes, but if you need help, you’re more than welcome to come to me.” she says.

We all nod and make our way out. “That’s exactly what Sister Damaris said…”

“You spoke to her about it?” Ralodan asks.

“Yes… It was a while ago.” I say with a nod. My eyes go wide. “Oh, I nearly forgot. She confirmed it was Terel who wrote the notes. At least in the first book, but I don’t see how he could’ve written them since the book was published after his death.”

“And you’re telling us this now!” Biremeril says with wide eyes, pulling at his curly, black hair.

“Yeah, I forgot with all that was going on,” I say.

“Well, we all assumed that anyway, it’s not like it’s anything new,” Ralodan says.

“We need to get our hands on those books,” I say.

“Why don’t we just talk to Charinva and get them from her, or at least one or two? How many are there, anyway?” Ralodan asks.

“Who is Charinva again?” Melyis asks.

“Another stray,” Ralodan says.

“I don’t know. She’s rather stubborn,” Biremeril says.

“We should go to my dorm first and grab Chalia. She is good at convincing people to do things,” I say.

“What if she won’t give them to us?” Biremeril asks.

“She will, or at least one or two books we can share amongst each other,” Ralodan says with that confident smile, and I believe he can convince her if not Chalia. That smile can convince anyone. 

Biremeril reluctantly agrees and we head back to my dorm to find Chalia just getting back from her own class. “Hey… Didn’t realize we were having a party. I would’ve put on my nice brown robes.”

“We want to confront Charinva and convince her to hand over the books.” I spit out.

“Or at least one or two of them. We don’t need all of them just yet,” Ralodan says.

“Okay, let’s do it then, but I get first dibs since I’ve been waiting longer for them,” Chalia says.

We all agree, and Ralodan adds his own two cents. “We should probably just go in order of arrival, so Biremeril should get them next and then me, then Lura, and lastly Melyis.”

“That seems fair,” Biremeril says.

“I suppose,” I say with a sigh. That means I will have to wait for all three of them to finish the next book before I can even begin reading it. That might take forever, depending on how long it is. At least I’ll get them before Melyis, which is a petty thought.

We all follow Chalia to Charinva’s room down the hall. Chalia doesn’t even knock before barging in, and she’s fast enough to duck before a book comes flying out of nowhere and hits poor Biremeril right in the forehead. Thank the Light, it wasn’t me this time.

“Seriously!” Chalia snaps at Ochilysse. “You nearly broke Biremeril’s nose!”

She only shrugs. “Next time knock! You’re just lucky it wasn’t a knife.”

“You are insane,” Chalia says as she forces Biremeril’s hand away and looks at the bump growing on his forehead as tears water his cheeks. “Fortunately, it’s just a little bump. You should be fine. Maybe we can get Haemyish to heal it. She’s pretty skilled.”

“What do you all want?” Ochilysse asks.

“We came to speak with Charinva. It doesn’t concern you,” Chalia says, her annoyance showing.

“Go ahead,” the other girl says, never glancing up from her book.

“We want the books. You have to share. You’ve had them forever,” Chalia says.

“Maybe a simple please would work better, Chalia,” Ralodan says as he steps past. “What she meant to say is, may we please see the first book or two?”

Chalia rolls her eyes. Charinva puts a bookmark between the pages and snaps the book shut. Her face seems to contort in contempt. “You can have them all. I’m done with them. I don’t even want to look at them anymore. I still can’t believe what I read. It’s… I’m lost for words. It’s absurd. It’s blasphemy. It’s… It’s very likely true, which is… I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Is it really that bad?” I ask and my teeth bite into my lip.

She looks up at me with eyes that look strained and tired. Has she slept at all? “I can’t really tell you, but just take everything you know and throw it into the trash. What these books say change everything.”

She goes over to her chest and pulls out six very thick books. “The first one is just another copy of The Light’s Embrace. The second one is Terel’s Revelations. Then the following are secrets told to him by Akrasiel. Book one is Truths of the Cosmos. The second book is called Divine Secrets, part one. Book three is Divine Secrets part two and lastly, an Encyclopedia. You need to start with Terel’s Revelations before moving to the Truths of the Cosmos and so on. Read each book in order. It makes more sense that way. If you have any questions, don’t ask me. Ask someone else. Maybe Damaris or whoever. I would like to forget I read them.”

“How could they really be that bad?” I ask.

Charinva only shrugs. “Not bad, but what is written in them is hard to comprehend and even harder to accept. Tread carefully, if at all.”

The rest of us trade disparaging looks with each other. I finally speak up. “So, I guess Chalia will take them first, then… Ochilysse?”

We all look over at her. She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I’ll read them. I won’t be quick about it.”

Half of us roll our eyes. “I wonder who else still needs to read them,” Chalia asks.

“Let’s find out after we finish with them,” I say.

That earns a smile from Chalia. “I quite agree.”

“So, after Ochilysse gets them, then Biremeril, then Ralodan, then me, and then Melyis? Does that sound okay?” I ask.

Everyone nods. Ralodan speaks up. “So, I guess we should probably just focus on completing the levels as quickly as possible so we can put ourselves in an excellent position within the church to prepare for when we finally get the books.”

“That sounds like as good a plan as any,” I say. Biremeril, Melyis, and Ochilysse all nodding. “I’ll help Chalia move the books to our dorm, and then we can get to it. That and get those Light-forsaken chore hours done.”

The others all sigh, but agree.

“Don’t cheat and start reading the books before me, Lura!” Ochilysse says.

“Don’t worry. I have plenty to do until it’s my turn,” I say, then look over at Charinva. “Say, Charinva… Would it be possible to borrow some of your books on Arcane spells?”

“Sure, why not,” Charinva says, then nods over to towers of stacked books in the corner of the room. “Have a look and take what you like.”

“Can we also have at it?” Ralodan asks.

“Yes, I don’t mind, but I want them all back!” she says, as she grabs the book she was reading and returns to it. Everyone besides Chalia sifts through the stacks of books. I find a few on basic Arcane spells and figure I should start there.

We all help Chalia get the books back to our dorm. They’re quite heavy and thick. Then I go with Ralodan, Biremeril, and Melyis to study our current level. With Terel’s notes in the back of Mathienne’s book, we make quick work of studying.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

Bothvar Beorcolsson

I travel back with Amalasontha back as we head to her village because I’ve decided to pay my respects to Tonna. Forsa village isn’t all that different from Stormfront. It lies directly south across the bay from Stormfront. I have never actually been here before, but like Stormfront, the town is protected by a giant wooden wall that separates the buildings from the woods. They have two separate harbors; one is on the side of the bay that is directly across from Stormfront and the other looks out to the sea. The seaside harbor is less protected and therefore only takes in visitors while the bay holds all of their ships. The village itself is nowhere near as big as Stormfront but is not small by any means. Mostly women with only a few men who I presume are most likely slaves.

The women gawk and stare as we walk in. They must not see many men aside from their slaves. I follow Amalasontha all the way to their hall where the body of Tonna lies, along with the other fallen warriors. I see two women I remember from my wedding. Amalgunda, the chief if I am correct, who looks slightly older now with her golden hair showing streaks of white. She still has the dignity of a leader as she sits up straight in her throne-like chair. Or at least the closest thing to a throne aside from the chair that the other woman I recognize sits in. Their matriarch, Dasyra Ragnarsdottir, who doesn’t seem to be a day older than she was at my wedding. Of course, the wedding was only just over a cycle ago. I continuously forget that. It seems like a long time ago.

Behind Dasyra is another woman I recognize. The same woman I sat with at the docks during the All-Clan Meeting who also came to my wedding, Almedha Dasyrasdottir. She, like all the rest, grieves for the fallen. All three women look upon me with hard eyes. None seem to be sure of what they see.

“Mother Dasyra, Chieftess Amalgunda. Bothvar, son of Earl Beorcol of the Kraken clan, has joined us in honoring our fallen sisters and daughters who gave their lives in battle,” Amalasontha says. Both of the women stare at me long and hard. Even Almedha seems to be in disbelief.

“This couldn’t possibly be the same man we saw get married at the end of fall just one cycle ago,” the Chieftess says.

“It is him,” Dasyra says with those eyes that seem to glow like an emerald under the light of the moon. “He has changed much. I see he’s been eating the glow mushrooms. They leave the skin that dark color. Your weapons, is that Nedraetium?”

“I don’t know what that is, but I crafted these weapons with the glow ore I found in the mountain. The same place where the glow shrooms are,” I say.

She half smiles. “Nedraetium is what the dwarves call it. Their mountains are rich with it. Unfortunately, it is too heavy for most humans to lift. But you seem to have no trouble.”

“I did when I first found it. Couldn’t budge it. But I grew strong during my self-exile,” I say.

“Right. I’m sorry to hear about your brother. It is tragic,” the Matriarch says.

“He’ll live on within his children. I’ll make sure of it.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for the loss of your fellow Valkyrie. During the battle, I wish I had been more disciplined. If I would’ve stayed back, they might still be alive.”

“Don’t be foolish, child. You are not to blame. The blame rests solely on the Bone Eaters. Tonna died so that the rest of our people can continue on to live. She will be remembered for her sacrifice and the younglings will know that she paid with her life to make sure they get to live theirs. That is the reason we fight, is it not? To provide and protect the ones we care about?”

“It should be…” I admit as I shift my eyes away.

“Well, we can’t fault you for wanting revenge. I know above all that the lure of revenge can be rather tempting,” Amalasontha says with a bitter tone. Her hand clenches her sword at her belt. “Sometimes it takes a journey with young cubs to remember what is important. One must not forget it is the next generation that we must protect. It would do no good to die seeking revenge and leave the future of our own people unguarded.”

“Right, you may be, but I still think justice must be exacted,” I say.

“Do you not know the difference between justice and revenge, young Beorcolsson?” the Matriarch asks.

“Is there a difference?” I ask.

“Perhaps. Talk to me again when you find out the answer,” she says. Leave it to a woman to always leave questions unanswered.

Dasyra turns to Amalasontha. “Now that you are here my child, let us lay to rest those who made the ultimate sacrifice.”

Amalasontha nods, clasping her fist against her chest. Dasyra and Amalgunda rise up and make their way past. I follow Amalasontha and Almedha behind them as she joins the women to lift up and carry out the bodies of Tonna and the others.

They head out onto the ice-cold docks facing the sea, where several small boats decorated to honor their dead are placed on the frozen ice. Amalasontha and the others lay the dead upon their final resting place within the boats. Dasyra stands in front of the crowd, made up of mostly women. “Today is a sad day. A sad day indeed, for we have to say our last farewell to those we know to be family. Some see them as daughters, others as sisters. Some even see them as lovers, but we all share a bond of kinship with these brave fallen warriors. They stood against those who seek to harm us. Not only did they stand against them, but because of them we all get to live another day in peace. Because they sacrificed their lives, we may live to see tomorrow. We owe them a life that is worthy of such a sacrifice, and I will demand of you that you live your life to earn that sacrifice. Remember their names and who they were. Carry those memories and share them with the next generation so they can be immortal within our hearts. For they still live and dine in the halls with our beloved Fridgerd, the mother of us all. Now, say your goodbyes for now, but not forever. For one day we will meet again in the next life when we too must make the final sacrifice to ensure our people live on.”

Everyone bows their head with their fists against their chest. I follow their lead and show my respect. Then the women kiss their fingers and raise them to the heavens above as I do the same. “Now, my children, let us send our fallen to the halls of our beloved Fridgerd so they can dine with our ancestors and watch down upon our people.”

Archers light arrows, notch, and draw. A teary-eyed Amalasontha gives them the command and they release, lighting the sky in flame before they set fire to the dead. Their flames light up the darkness, melting the ice until their lights are taken by the gods above.

Amalasontha falls to her knees and weeps. Just as I am about to turn to leave, something happens. The clouds part, and a light shines down on the sea. The women all gasp and point out. It’s like the real Valkyrie themselves came down from the heavens to take the sisters home with them. But just as soon as it comes, the light is gone, and snow rains down as if the skies themselves wept.

As the women say their farewells, the harbor empties for all but Amalasontha. I walk up to her and put my hand on her shoulder. She lets out a long breath before she climbs to her feet. “I wish it was me instead.”

“I understand. No parent should weep for their child.”

She looks up at me. “You’re an honorable man, Bothvar. Tonna knew that to be true, and she had the best judgment of the character of others.”

“That she did. I will never forget the day we met as children. She helped me prevent my brother and his friends from killing a little rabbit. She always had a heart of gold.”

Amalasontha smiles. “She told me that story. You and her share the same heart. I take warmth in knowing you carry that same warm heart on. Do not let it grow cold, Bothvar. Keep it warm.”

“I’ll try, but it is hard.”

“I know that all too well. Now come, join our feast to celebrate the lives of the fallen. Of my daughter,” she says.

“I cannot. I must go back. Feels like it is time to return home. I have been gone far too long. Even though I didn’t succeed with the goal I set out to achieve, I have found something better instead. With a new purpose, I will return to my family. I will honor Thorkel in another way. I will make sure his child lives on to carry on his name and legacy. And I would like to see my own wife and child. I’ll make sure no one forgets Tonna’s name, nor the other fallen.”

She nods, her face shows compassion and respect. “That I can respect. Cherish them, Bothvar. You will never know when it is time to say goodbye.”

I nod and hold out my hand. She takes it and meets my eyes. “I hope we meet again, Bothvar, son of Beorcol, but under different circumstances.”

“I feel the same.” With that, I let go and head into the storm.

—

Snow comes down as if the sky is mad. The tears of the clouds are frozen with a vengeful pain. It isn’t just cold; it is so cold that by the time I got to the river the water is completely frozen over all the way to the bottom. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve heard stories of a woman known as the Queen of Winter. She’s a dragon who brings winter wherever she flies. The dragon named Azyra, the Queen of Winter. She must be mad to make it snow with such ferocity.

But fortunately, I can cross the river without having to swim. It is frozen down to the dirt. But the snow does not make it easy to get back to my cave. Even I can barely see past my own hand. It is very tempting to take a left and go home, but I must return to the cave first. I nearly lost all sense of direction with the snow, and as I leave the forest behind, everything looks the same. The cold seeps down into my very bones. It’s hard to deny the chill. I don’t stop, just keep going. Even though my skin has been hardened by my exile, it feels the icy burn of the blizzard.

I reach the mountain and force myself to go on. It’s just a little farther now. The steep slope of the mountain makes it hard to get a footing within the snow that continues to blind me.

I do not want to lose sight of the secret passageway that leads to the cave we found so long ago, but I can hardly tell the signs and nearly miss them as I find it.

As I find the entrance to my cave, I collapse with relief once I get inside. Then, an overwhelming sense of loneliness creeps down to my very heart. Blue-Eyes is gone, and her family along with an old friend are dead. The very thought saddens me. Then, I realize I am not alone. I pull out my sword and ax as I climb to my feet. Hidden deeper in the cavern, someone stands with a weapon drawn. I can smell them. I can hear their breath and their quick heartbeat. Who dares sneak into my cave?

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!

Lura Syllana

I’m in time for the sermon as I head over with Chalia. We take our seats within the Cathedral Hall and join the other strays near the back. But my heart stops dead in its tracks when I see a man I recognize dressed in the most over-the-top, rich robes I’ve ever seen. The robes themselves are white with gold trim and crimson embroidery. Gold chains and ropes hang from his neck with the largest white crystal I’ve ever seen. He has one of the tallest, gaudy hats ever with more crimson on it. But it is his face that makes my heart cease its beat. I’ve seen that face before. That fancy mustache with the sharp little goatee and a grin as wicked as it is charming. Those eyes that glow blue seem to have a sinister guile under the surface. He approaches the pulpit and greets the hall with that rich and welcoming voice. The same one I heard him use towards Zaralraden at the brothel just before they head off into a room. Now, the allegations about him seem to carry more weight.

Yet his voice seems to carry a somewhat mesmerizing charm to it. His words drip with desire and make you want to listen to every word. He’s so convincing and seems so sincere and passionate. It is like I have to not only hear him out, but also follow his word and take it as truth. He speaks about our duty to the church and how we need to stay vigilant in the Light and do our duty. He speaks about sins and their consequences. Specifically, the sin of speaking out against the church and the blasphemy of other religions and their desire to hide the truth. The lies spread by those who want to destroy the Light are what he speaks about. He warns us about temptations to listen to these lies and falsehoods. He says we need to confront them and destroy them. Take no quarter to heretics and show no mercy. We need to purify the pagans at all costs. Convert them or show them the Light’s mercy. He talks with so much conviction. I don’t understand… I know this man to be a hypocrite and a pervert. He is not worthy of the title, and yet I want to do as he says. I want to follow his word. It’s as if his sermon puts a spell on me to listen and follow. I close my eyes and breath to regain my own thoughts.

I look around to see that everyone else seems to be within the same trance that I felt. Everyone except Ralodan. He doesn’t seem convinced at all. In fact, he doesn’t look happy about what the High Father is saying. His arms are locked across his chest and his normally smiling face is transfixed into a frown. His eyes shift and lock onto mine, and I feel as if he is trying to tell me not to listen. He looks around at everyone else and seems to grow fearful.

The sermon finally ends, and we are released for supper. The Accepted and Novice strays all gather around the same table. All talking about the High Father’s sermon, but the tone has all changed. They aren’t talking about the allegations or his hypocrisy. It’s as if that was all forgotten. They only talk about his sermon, and they all agree with him. It’s like they have been mind controlled to forget their mistrust of him and follow his words. They talk about seeking out those pagans and forcing them to either convert or lock them away, even killing them if they have to. What is going on?

“Do you all honestly believe the Light wants us to destroy those who don’t stand within its shine?” Ralodan asks. He looks as surprised as I feel. “Do you truly believe that Akrasiel, the angel who speaks of mercy, love, compassion, and forgiveness, wants us to kill all the nonbelievers?”

“Well, I mean… I don’t know,” Haemyish says, averting her eyes.

“I can assure you all that the Light is about peace and love, not bringing death to the nonbelievers. This High Father speaks lies,” Ralodan says a little too loud. Several tables quiet down around us.

“Ralodan! You can’t say such things. That’s blasphemy,” Chalia says, in a hushed tone.

“Is it though? We were taught by Terel that the Light wants us to spread love, not hate. Does he not share with us the words that were spoken to him by Akrasiel himself? The High Father speaks about what the Light wants, and yet he himself hasn’t even met the Angel Akrasiel. There is something not right about all of this,” he says with eyes burning full of righteousness. Those eyes travel around to meet the faces of everyone listening. Ralodan’s words seem to strike at the heart of everyone. No one says anything, and shame seems to wash over them. He sees this and softens his tone. “He is right about one thing. We have to remain vigilant against those who call themselves pure and would demand that we follow them, as spoken by Terel.”

Whispers and confusion seem to spread to those who are sitting nearby, but those who sit among us seem to nod in understanding. It is clear out of everyone listening to Ralodan’s words who has received the notes for they nod, acknowledging him while the others seem to look around, confused.

Strangely, Ralodan’s words make me feel as if I should listen and follow him as well. But the feeling they bring is far different from that of the High Father. He fills me with a warm light where the High Father’s words make me feel angered and stir my emotions into a fire. A fire that demands to burn. Why is this?

After supper, Chalia goes to Damaris’ and she’s not back until late. She must’ve been gone for hours. Maybe she did some labor? She looks a little disheveled, however she wears a genuine smile. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” she asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know. You were just gone for quite a while. What did Damaris keep you there for so long?”

“Oh, we just always have so much to talk about. Especially books. We could go on and on for hours,” she says as she practically falls like a feather on the bed. She’s acting rather more elated than usual. Odd. I shrug it off and continue reading the rest of the book.

Be the first 100 to sign up for the Arathoon Newsletter and a FREE Digital copy of Shattered Souls when it is released!