Ghosts and Death
It turned out Greifen was right. The Elhir who were the mortal enemies of the Olafson Clan dropped the Fangsnapper from the deck of a Cargo Floater into our back yard. How this was found out, I did not know but there was word that someone did see an Elhir flyer just moments before the Fangsnapper attack. Father went before the Elders and made the accusation, since open Clan wars were outlawed.
The Elhir Chief countered that there was no evidence that it was them, but he suggested if a single Fangsnapper made such trouble to the Olafson Clan they would gladly train the Olafsons in real combat.. Everyone expected father to challenge the Elhir Chief to but he did not.
He had beaten me as soon as we had returned to the burg, but the business of sending boats and men to recover the Tyrannos, distracted him and he left me bleeding in the court yard.
Midril had Greifen bring me into the still room where she tended to it with ointment and bandages. after she came back from the Union Hospital with a brand new arm they had grown her, she often tended to my wounds despite father's command that no one was supposed to show me any kind of kindness.
She had never spoken about the incident, but she took care of the little girl now and she made sure I got a share of the good things that went to the Family Hall.
Two days later a hushed rumor was spreading that a son of the Eghil clan and two of his companions were found before the Gate of the Elhir burg. The companions dead and the brother to Sigvard beaten to within an inch of his life. It was said he had the marks of a whip all over his body.
--””--
I counted the days when grandfather would finally arrive and take me to the Halls of Hasvik. According to our old Earth calendar today was the seventh of October 5011 my 12th birthday. Nilfeheim seasons never matched Old Terran Time and instead of a season Earthers called fall. It was the last year of Longnight and the ice was already gone around our burg. On our world it was perhaps the most anticipated time, when the ship wrights took off the ice slides from the keels of the fishing boats. When the Tyrannos really came alive and started their migration to the Uhim grounds to mate and feed . On our burg nothing changed, instead of celebrations I was beaten by father right after breakfast, because Lothar demanded to see me eat out of a Nubhir Wolf bowl under the table and I refused. Gretel demanded that father would do something about it, and he did by pelting his steel cable across my chest and back.
In all this I wondered if one could actually get used to pain, I could feel my blood running almost like water and I smiled and raised my hands.
“Thank you father for killing me. Now Odin will receive me and I be with mother!” The Clan Elders of Ragnarsson and of the Olafsons stood and raised their fists and as I slumped to my knees I started to recited the Warriors prayer, hoping the gods would give me enough time to finish it. Ancient lore promised great favor with the gods if one died as a warrior and I wanted Odin to look with favor upon my arrival.
”Gods of war I call upon you..”
Kveldulf, an old but well known warrior of the Ragnarsson clan said.
“There is a Viking son without fail. He dies aye but you Isegrim with his passing you loose all rights to this Burg and my oaths that bind me, shackle me no more. I will be the first to challenge thee . Let us see how well you stand against a warrior with a sword!”
Father yelled
“Greifen, get him to the still room and dial for the Union Doctor!”
It was the last thing I heard and I hoped and prayed silently now as my eye sight faded and my lips no longer wanted to move, that Greifen and the Union Doctor would be too late.
--””--
I cursed the doctor once again, his gentle face once again rising out of the darkness of oblivion
“Níð Ergi!Cursed are thy skills and cursed is thy Off World Tech. Is it my fate to remain in this world where I am not wanted?”
He shook his head but his smile remained and he said to someone in the room.
“He is well enough to call insult me.” To me he said. “Eric, you almost got your wish but my oath prevents me from letting it happen when I can do something about it, but you got to lay still until the blood replicator has completed the transfusion.”
“Curse all oaths and let Hel embrace me!”
The other person in the room was old Kveldulf as I recognized his voice. “You will survive Eric. You are strong! The Huldufolk have their eyes upon you that is certain.” “The Hidden people, the Aseir are not with me or they would spare me such a father.” “Warriors are not born in comfort, revenge flows out of the woeful tears of the maimed and tortured, you are the Grandson of my liege and I am bound as he is by oaths and the unbreakable bonds of a warriors word. You Eric, you are not!”
The doctor paid little attention to what was said and checked his machine, then he said.
“I send the flyer in the morning to collect the equipment. I personally hope the day of Union Law coming to this cold barbaric world is soon. Then no child will have to suffer such cruelty.” With these words he deactivated the GalNet Avatar projection and blinked out into nothingness.
Kveldulf, a grizzly old warrior with more gray than black hair and a distant Uncle of mine arranged his fang snapper fur lined cloak, with a sweeping gesture of his sinew bulging underarm and sat down on a stool next to the gurney I was on. His face was tanned and wrinkled by steady glare of Solken, the frosty winds and spending a life time outside on the oceans or on the ice. He checked the machine and tabbed it with his finger.
“Marvelous little thing. Replaces your blood. You know you left almost all you head on the stone floors of the Great Hall.”
“I had not intended to be there nor did I have much to say about the bleeding part.” “Aye a heavy load you carry, Child, but there was not a dry eye and not a throat stricken with pride and guilt in that hall as you, twelve years old smiled instead of scream, raised your arms to Odin. Oh lad it will be told in these walls in many Longnights to come.”
“I doubt Gretel or Lothar, I doubt father felt any such things and he will whip anyone who dares to speak of me.”
“Horrible is his temper and evil are his deeds and your Stepmother saw her future run away with your blood. But this is not the way this burg is cleansed. It is by the hand of vengeance. Evil can never stand against valor.”
“I could not stop him from killing my mother and I can do nothing against him, I am weak!”
He put his strong hand on my arm.
“Today on far distant earth they would celebrate your birthday, but we are Norse. We are Vikings we do not celebrate the day we are born. Nay we celebrate the day we receive our name. I was there when you received yours.”
I looked away. “I wish I was never born, then mother would not have died protecting me.”
“Your mother wanted you. She wanted nothing more on this world than you, her fate was sealed when the pact of the Clan chiefs was made. One kept quiet the failings of his son and the other blind to the signs and warnings given. But your name day, it was a grand day. The entire burg was decked out in Olafson red and Ragnarsson black. A son, a first son was born into the world. The Conjurers and Seers that travel from burg to burg to cast the runes and see the signs, they all came.
Clan lords from as far as the Green Eastern Sea came. The Lord Keeper of Hasvik itself made the trip from the Halls of the Faceless Seven, all the Elders even the Eldest of them all; came.
For your grandfather is a mighty man and the Ragnarsson falcon is a standard feared and awed. You Eric are the one combining the blood of Ancient Clans. One which must fade into oblivion as no male heir is left, but it will not die as you hold the power to resurrect the Ragnarssons once you have Sons and decide to break the Seal and raise the Falcon standard once more.
Do you know it was the Eldest,whom they say is a Wizard of great age and powers beyond those of men. Who took the the Cup was called Blótbolli. A cup made of the skull of a long vanquished foe, filled with fresh blood of a Tyranno slain and doused you with it, then your name was spoke by the Elders, by the Keepers and all who were present and they raised the name Eric with mighty bellows to the rafters of the High Hall.”
As he spoke the old man raised his right hand against the vaulted ceiling .
”Eric Thor Olafson. The Keeper of Hasvik himself insisted your middle names is of the mightiest of all Aseir.
It was Alrik Eric Olafson who was the first of thy clan to set foot on this world. It was Erik Thorsten who did so for the Ragnarssons. Erik Gustav is thy Grandfather's name and now it is your name.”
He clenched his fist with a fierce proud glare in his bearded face,
“The Eternal Seer, the Hermit of the Pillar himself came to your crib. They say he is a Necromancer, a Wizard who knows secrets not of this world. Secrets not understood by all the science of the Union. He threw the rune stones for you and explained to all that the name Eric is of Scandinavian origin, an old name from Earth and the meaning of Eric is "ruler of all". It is also of Old English origin, where its meaning is 'eternal ruler.' The Old Seer said that the runes told him that you would make the meaning of your name come true!”
I listened to the tale of the old man and I did enjoy these old stories, but I was certain it was just that, stories and nothing more. The Blood machine was not done and neither was he.
“In the Great Hall it was when your father held you high above his head and yelled . “Behold my Son!”
There were many axes and swords lifted in thy honor. Then like the Queen of Nilfeheim itself your mother came down the stairs. Her hair as golden as the sun, in a dress fir for the Elfenkind. With her was your grandfather and he proclaimed his sacred vow, that all that is Ragnarsson on this world and all worlds beyond the skies shall be yours on the day you are a man.”
I turned so he would not see my tears. I missed her so much. I whispered
“Why has it turned out like this?”
“Because evil stalks this rock. Evil disguised in red satin and velvet. Using witchcraft and trickery that is not of Nilfeheim, Eric. For nothing else can turn a man such as your father into the lackey of a woman..”
He patted my shoulder.
“Now it is time you find some rest.”
--””--
It was only a days after that, when I came home from school there was a big crowd in the yard of our burg, men stood around a bier propped up and on it lay the body of Old Kveldulf.
Greifen pulled me back into the shadow overhang of the kitchen wall and whispered. “Don't be seen now!”
“What happened?” I gasped.
“They say he fell on the steep stairs to the Sub Den and broke his neck. Just as the Old chief Volund Olafson did.”
I heard father's strong voice. “Throw him to the fishes. He dared to speak against me on my table and now he robbed me of the chance to teach him a lesson.”
He made a vulgar gesture.
“Let Hel take care of him now. There is much work to do so get to it!”
Even from where I was standing I could see his smug grin and the triumphant glare of his eyes. I was only 12 but I was convinced Kveldulf did not die of an accident. However I heeded Greifen's advice and slipped into the under crofts and hid in the deep old basements for the rest of the day.
--””--
Death was not done, and Hel still had her hand over the burg because the very next day, Geirhild one of the Free woman working in the Tanneries threw herself of the Northern ramparts,where the Duro-Crete and rock walls of our burg clinged to the very edge of the sheer cliffs. Nobody told me why she did it, Midril said this was something I should better not know, yet I heard one of the kitchen helpers whisper that she saw Harkun, my fathers man servant with her on that wall, just before she jumped.
When they carried her broken body in, through the gate, I decided to to the same. I would throw myself over the wall. It was quick and no Union Doctor could do anything. Even though our teacher said they could bring the dead back to live, strict laws prohibited that.
I had enough of the beatings and the humiliation. It was fast and I would be in the land of Hel where mother was and perhaps she even waited for me.
So long after midnight when everyone even the gate man was asleep.
I rushed across the yard and climbed the solid Duro-Crete steps and pulled myself up between the battlements. Nilfeheim had no moons like I learned other worlds had , but we had a beautiful star filled sky.
The stars above me twinkled and Earthers had called them the Pleiades, of which Solken our own star was one. This region of space was more commonly known as the Xunx reach. Of course there weren't any Xunx left today, and the next day would come with one Neo Viking less.
Almost 120 meters below, dark waves smashed into the rugged teeth like rocks and turned into white foaming surf.
“Thor and Odin you have forsaken me, punished my mother and cursed me with a father who hates me more than anything in the world. I know you hate cowards but I am not strong enough. Today he killed the Nubhir puppy Greifen had given to me this morning. He had stomped the little animal to a gory pulp and made me clean it up. He promised he would do the same to me as soon as I turn sixteen. What can I do against that?”
There was of course no answer, the Gods were to busy drinking and celebrating to notice the perils of a Viking boy. I jumped, but I did not fall! A leather clad hand held me by the collar and pulled me back.“
A shadowy figure, a hooded cloak around his shape said to me.
“Who will avenge your mother if you kill yourself? Yo must endure and grow and learn to fight and then kill Isegrim and cleanse this burg from all its filth.”
“Who are you?”
“It matters not, Eric. I cannot reveal myself to you for now, but you will come to me now every night. Find me in the lowest basement, where the old hidden passage ends. I will teach you the way of the sword and how to fight.”
The shadowy figure let me go stepped back without making a sound melting into the truly black shadows of the battlements. I stepped forward, still at the edge of my nerves, my mind still reeling from the death decision I had made only moments ago, yet there was no one. Did I just dream?
The very next night I sneaked down the past the Under croft and storage basements. Deep into the rough hewn narrow and completely dark passage way that was chiseled out of the rock during the first Clan wars almost a thousand years in the past. It was never completed and ended in a little cavern like room, no one but me would come down here during the day, and certainly no one would be here at this hour. I was certain I had imagined it and was just a coward to afraid to end it. Yet as I reached the cavern , a voice said.
“I will not talk about anything except to teach you how to fight. You will never ask me any questions. If you do I won't come back., do you want me to teach you?” “Yes!”
A grinding sandy sound as if stone was moved over stone occurred and I could feel a soft breeze of wind. Something pulled on my mangy Fangsnapper fur cape and then lights came on. Artificial Lumi plates bolted or glued to a rough ceiling. The cavern room was spacious and there were swords, and blaster weapons in racks on the walls. From the looks of it, not moved or touched in a thousand years caked with a thick layer of dust.
There was a bench, a table made of Dura Plast of all things and a stack of similar old looking crates at one end. The man in the black hooded cape seemed to have some sort of mask underneath it, as I could see nothing but black underneath. The man was at least as tall as my father, but had the muscles of a peak athlete underneath black leather and fabric.
He made a gesture across the room. “Yes Eric, the Ragnarssons were among the most vicious pirates, back in the days and this is what is left from their spoils. This room and that past long forgotten, by all but by those of true Ragnarsson blood
Now strip your upper body free of garments and take that Bokken over there,”
“I take what?”
“This is how a wooden Training sword is called at some other corners of the Universe. just take it!”
I simply called him teacher and from that night on, he trained with me every night for at least 4 hours. When I was done I was so tired, I had no energy left to dream.. Some of the things he made me were strange and odd.
Something he called push ups and gymnastics. I didn't really think it had anything to do with fighting but I did it anyway. Of course I wondered who he was , and I figured he was someone like the old Kveldulf.
While we trained he told me many things of the Ragnarsson Clan, but he had an odd way of speaking. He did speak the standard union like we all did, but on Nilfeheim we still used many of the old worlds and when speaking on any official business we made sure we talked the “old” way .
We pronounced the 'r' much stronger and had more 'n' sounds. I knew all this from our Union School teacher who always tried to make us speak the proper Union way. My mysterious teacher however spoke just like our Union teacher,the proper Union Lingu and while he knew a lot about viking ways and words. He never really used any of the old words.
Then after many weeks he said. “The Union year was soon ending and with it came Union Week celebrations and the end of this school year .
I climbed down to the forgotten pirate hide out and tonight he made me fight him with a real broad sword for almost an hour.
He then stepped back and said . “You have learned much indeed I wish I could teach you more but I must leave. Your Grandfather is soon to arrive, When he is here I must not be, but the day you become Chief, I reveal myself to you. Until then tell no one of me, no one not even him.”
“You commanded me never to ask questions and even though they burn on my lips I have not, but I am far from the warrior I need to be to face my father.”
“I promised someone who loves you very much to teach you the craft of war and skills of fighting. No worries Eric, I have opened your eyes to the way of the sword and I am certain you will find others to teach you. We will meet again, Eric and then I tell you who I am.”
He took my hand squeezed it and then without another word left . I rushed after him through the secret rock wall door but the narrow stairwell was empty.
--””--
Only two days had passed since my mysterious teacher had left.
Greifen sat in the Kitchen nursing a tankard of warmed ale with a generous helping of Midril's secret herbs and spices she gave to those who got the cold and judging by the bright red nose and the numb voice of Greifen he was very sick or perhaps had a tankard too much.
I was there as well sitting in a corner scrubbing the big kettle, because it was Wednesday and Midril would make Fin Stew.
Greifen snorted like a pregnant Fangsnapper into a huge kerchief and with a suffering expression and Nubhir puppy eyes stared at Midril.
“Only I catch a cold in Shortsummer. Those Northern winds are really stubborn this season, seems the Frost-giants are not giving up as easily this Shortsummer.”
She stemmed her left arm into her wide hips and shook her ever present wooden spoon at Greifen.
“It's not the weather that made you sick. You were drinking with the Peerson fishers till the wee hours and one of them had the cold and infected you.”
“Oh I am sure it was the wind. Now I am certain I'd feel better soon with another helping of your good herbs with a bit of that good Ale.”
Midril snickered .
“Alright I fix you up.”
He got another tankard and took a deep drought. His face turned as if he had bitten into a rotten fish, but his red nose turned color almost instantly back to normal. “What in Loki's name was that? This was no ale..no herbs.”
“It was hot water with a two Anti cold pills and a Tox Neutralizer floating in it. Traditional herbs won't cure a cold. The Meds from the Union Clinic however will.” He looked sober, bright alert, completely flabbergasted and a tad angry.
“That was a rotten thing to do Midril. I was just about in the prefect zone and now I got to start again.”
“Go peel the seaweed stems and I get you another tankard.”
She plopped a big tray with thick ten inch long seaweed stems before him and handed him a peeler. Once the tough outer skin was removed the soft mushy inside could be cooked and squished.
He immediately started and then pointed the peeler at me. “It's a shame how our Old Sire treats his first born!" Greifen gave her a thankful nod as she put a tankard of ale next to the tray."
To me she said. “Eric leave the kettle it's clean enough, go get some fresh air.”
I pushed the clean kettle to its spot and left the kitchen.
To make sure no one would catch me idle and give me another, usually bad chore. I went outside beyond the walls.
Except for the small leveled gravel area right outside the gate where floaters could lands; the rest of the island consisted of sheer cliffs and titanic ragged boulders, but climbing down the south side right, past Olle’s Tooth , a particular tall and rugged rock said to resemble the rotten tooth of one of my forefathers, there was a small, perhaps twelve meter deep and twenty meters wide pebble beach known by the Clan as Sigrids Secret.
It was well hidden from sight on each side by tall cliffs and an overhang from above. It was one of my favorite spots.
Legend had it that the first Ragnarrson family landed here claiming this rock. Another story told about Sten Ragnarrson who had killed himself here about 500 years ago and that one still could hear his screaming as he lamented his dishonorable death. Ingibjorg Ragnarsson his daughter supposedly buried a tremendous treasure here, of course no one believed that, where on Nilfeheim would a woman gain a treasure?
All her possessions were her dowry and it was given to her husband.
She too was said to haunt these cliffs as her spirit was searching for whatever baubles she had lost.
As isolated as Nilfeheim tried to remain from the rest of the Union, we were part of a technological advanced culture, yet many Neo Vikings believed in the supernatural and the stories of the gods and tales of haunting and ghosts where never far from our mind and lips.
Midril claimed to have seen ghosts before. When I was younger I believed her when she told about the one legged Gunghir Ragnarrson who supposedly haunted the storage cellar, but now I was convinced it was a mere tale to keep me and the other kids from the pickled fish barrels.
I sat down and watched a pair of Toe Pincher crabs as they scurried over the dark pebbles and enjoyed the wind and the weather .
I would have loved to go for a dive but I did not bring my wet suit or fins. I didn't want to go back and all across the yard to get it. As there was a good chance I would run into Bjorgolf the Yard Master who tended the subs and hunting gear of the clan. That fat bastard was a favorite of my father and enjoyed giving me lots to do so he did not have to do it.
Father had given him explicit permission to beat me anytime my work was not as expected. He always found something wrong and a reason to use his heavy leather belt to trash me.
Even though my father had moved the Olafson Clan, this rock was still known as Ragnarsson Isle and had been the traditional home of the Ragnarsson Clan ever since Nilfeheim was settled by Terran Colonists. Now during Shortsummer and on a clear day I could see the Oseberg Island from my tower window. It was where the Oseberg's had their burg, but down here all I saw as the churning ocean waves. The Oseberg's were the mortal enemies of the Ragnarsson Clan and until about 500 years ago there was open war between these clans. It was still forbidden to even speak the name Oseberg within these walls. Many of the older Clans, including my father lamented the fact that piracy, clan wars and the raid of other burgs was no longer permitted. He often claimed that he would rather take the wealth of another clan by ax and sword than by fishing, working and marriage, as he put it.” That this was only empty bravado was apparent even to me, as he did not openly challenge the Elhir Chief.
Using a whip in a Challenge was only permitted if the opponent would also choose it, going against a man as wild and strong as the Elhir Chief and a master of sword and ax was something completely different than beating unarmed servants. I was watching two crabs fighting over a dead fish. A Silver Flicker Fish, it probably went to close to the surge as the waves broke against the cliffs and got smacked to hard against the rock . Almost to late did I hear footsteps in the gravel. More out of instinct I ducked, still something hit me pretty hard on the head. I jumped back and turned to see Lothar my half-brother brandishing a wooden practice sword. He was only ten but had inherited all the Olafson Bulk and was almost my equal in terms of strength and body size. His eyes sparkled with delight as he laughed and screamed. ”I made you bleed I will tell father!” He played with his sword making its tip circle before my face.” I could also kill you right now and there is nothing you can do. Raise your hand against me and I tell father and he will break you.” “I had it with you and your arrogance! I am sick and tired of your petty games . this is Ragnarsson Rock and you and that father of ours is here by the grace of my grandfather and my mother!” I stepped inside his reach, twisted his wrist with my left and smacked my fist as hard as I could right into his blabbering smiling mouth.” I could feel something break as my fist connected , he was flung back; stumbled and fell. For some reason time seemed to slow down as I watched him fall. The back of his head hitting one of the bigger rocks . He didn’t move or make any sound as he laid there and I was certain I had killed him! I spat out and said. “Go tell that to father!” The realization of what I had done hit me the very same moment. Fear and guilt made it impossible to even think one coherent thought. He stirred and opened his eyes, he was not dead! A voice in me urged me to finish him off, the crabs would make short work of his remains and the surge take whatever was left. He would simply be missing and one problem of my life would be solved! He deserved to die! He was the son of a woman who replaced my mother! The woman was the reason my father had killed her in the first place! I was the rightful heir not he!
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed movement. Four men, wearing dark wet suits and armed with spear guns and swords waded ashore!
Two of them dragging a limp body of a man between them. While the man they dragged ashore had his head slumped down so I could not see his face, I recognized one of the men. Hilfheim, the brother to Leif Elhir and the man Greifen had beaten in a brawl.
The situation was instantly clear, the Elhir retaliated and whoever they were dragging between them wearing Olafson red was the latest victim in the escalating feud.
They had of course seen me and Hifheim barked .”What a fortune, now our revenge will have more meaning, the Loki cursed spawn of the Olafson coward.”
Not that I would have minded them to beat up my father and not that I had any chance against four armed men, I was still Olafson and they invaded our rock. Perhaps the same who dropped the Fangsnapper.
“Four men against an unarmed boy? It appears the Elhir have defined cowardice to new perfection,”
Hilfheim threw his sword. “Here take it that sword, so you be armed.”
He gestured at one of his companions. “Gansbaf, go teach that whelp a lesson.”
I knew of Gansbaf, he was only three years older than me, I had seen him at school a few times when he talked to Sigvard. He was a cousin or something like that.
I grabbed the sword and rushed forward. The other guy was more man than boy and had the bulk and muscles of a full grown warrior.
Yet while I was still an amateur when it came to fighting, the sword felt good and like an extension of my arm,
Gansbaf swung his sword in a wide arc as soon as I was in range. It was about as clumsy as an opening attack could be, instead of using my sword to block the swing, I ducked, felt the sharp steel parting the air close over my head and then as the blade was past I hacked my weapon deep into his shoulder.
A spray of blood, Gansbaf screaming. I also heard voices of alarm up from the burg.
Then something hit me hard against the head and everything went dark.