A great wave washed over the deck of the longship battering the men aboard. Half starved and dumbfounded as to how they got there, the crew of fourteen surviving Aesir mariners could barely get themselves together. Trying to manage a longship in their condition and undergoing rough seas was another matter. If things weren't bad enough, a great bank of dark storm clouds loomed ahead. The crew's Third Man held fast to the rudder as best his waning strength would allow. To his eyes, that bank of storms looked too much like those which threw them off course and onto the shores of that wretched city of slavers!
The Third Man had no wish to be thrown off course again and back into the hands of that black witch! It all seemed so fantastic a vision that for three years they were at the mercy of those southern dogs! Stranger still, the vision was shared by all the men. They all wore ragged strips of clothing and bore the scars of three years enslavement! The First Man had bravely fought for their survival against warriors and criminals as one of the Slaver King's pit-fighters. With the First Man running up a string of victories after nearly three years, things stabilized for the others as they toiled on the Line of Chains.
No harm came to those on the chain except for the lash. Then the First was brought back to their cell mortally wounded after striking himself with his own axe! Before he bled to death, he described fighting a warrior like no other. They too saw this incomparable killer in action when Chief Svengald miraculously came to their rescue. Unbelievably, the Chief fought the warrior off until struck down by the witch. Chained in an underground cavern, they along with the Chief and some naked black slave girl who spoke the Aesir language, they were all bargained off to a demon during the Witch's evil ritual.
The last thing any of them remembered was a great wave of red water washed over them and then they were back on the longship! Now the very storm which caused all their woes loomed menacingly before them again. Try as he did, the Third could not rouse the weary and famished men to action. His strength failing, the Third could no longer hold the rudder firm and was flung against the ship's low rail. Another wave crashed over the side nearly drowning the Third Man. Gasping for air the injured man cried out over the wails of the men, "Odin! Odin! Help us!" A long moment passed with no sign of divine intervention. On a desperate whim, The Third Man cried out to the heavens, "Priestess! Goddess of the Valley, finder of the lost... I beg you come to our aid!
Suddenly, a great plume from the tempestuous sea erupted alongside the longship and a man fell hard upon the centerboard. Cursing the man bellowed, "By Odd's hobnailed boot! I leave you lazy bastards alone for a while and you're ready to throw my ship into the jaws of the fucking Midgard Serpent!" Disbelief froze the crew in place as the Aesir Chief rose from the drenched center of the ship. Hands reached out for their leader, but instead he pulled them roughly to their feet.
"Rise up sons of Aesir! I didn't come all this way to not see us home!" As the Chief dragged each man to his feet, he then shoved them towards the oars and mast shouting orders over the sound of the approaching storm. Moving his injured Third Man away from the rudder, the Chief yelled, "I know you're hurt man, but if we don't want to see the shores of Niffelheim this day I need every living soul on the oars!" With the help of the Chief's strong arm, the Third made it up and wobbled his way to the nearest oar.
The men dug deep to find the strength to get the ship moving against the current. Screaming towards the two men at the mast working the single sail the Chief commanded, "That's it! We have the wind now lash that sail and man your oars!" Sure enough, the strong wind filled the large single sail and the longship began to turn from the storm. The Chief quickly realized that turning from the storm wouldn't be enough. They needed a heading to bear down on or they could be blown off course once more. Looking towards the ship's dragon masthead, Chief Svengald noticed something which had always bothered him about the carving.
Atop the dragon's head were three horns. It was carved by the Witch Mjarga and only his ship's mast had so strange a design. He had always assumed it was to represent his status as Chieftain, but Mjarga had carved one for his father's ship minus the horns. Then it dawned on the Chief as the words of the adult Little Fish came back to him. "Your men will need a stone to guide them through the storm. It will also guide their ship to the stone you gave the girl Mjarga for safekeeping." The Chief lashed the rudder to hold its heading and made his way forward between the toiling oarsmen as the ship tossed amidst the advancing waves.
Finding strong purchase upon the high masthead, the Chief dug out the stone from the leather pouch given him by the Priestess. Placing the stone within the horns, the Chief grinned for the fit was perfect! Using the bag's drawstring, the Chief tied the stone to the figurehead. "Don't want you falling into the sea!" the Chief said with a grunt. After a tricky climb down to the deck, the Chief fought his way back aft to the rudder. The longship continued to slowly turn and the men were beginning to flag.
The Chief watched the stone atop the figurehead with hopeful eyes as the ship made the final point of the turn away from the storm. Like the light of hope itself, the yellow stone burst into a golden glow. "Screaming like a madman Chief Svengald commanded, "That's our heading for home men! Put your backs into it like Jormungandr was right behind us!" The Chief unlashed the rudder and held on for dear life to maintain the new heading. His men despite being exhausted from their ordeal in the City of Golden Towers, bent their backs and pulled the oars with all they had left.
Chief Svengald was awakened by the early evening rays of the sun. He grimaced fiercely as he pried his fingers away from the rudder. They were clear of the storm and the sky itself only bore a few fluffy clouds that captured the golden sun rays on their undersides. His men lay at their oars spent from the past trial at sea. Another grand sight caught Chief Svengald's eye as seagulls passed overhead. "With a hoarse whisper the Chief croaked, "Land...." Now much stronger the Chief barked, "Wake up you bastards! Land! Land Ho!" Svengald rushed forward to the ship's bow and beneath the yellow stone's glow, he laid eyes on his homeland once more.
This time however, all was as it should be! They passed by rocky torchlit spires burning with whale oil marking the boundary between sea and fjord. Small fishing boats dotted the calm waters as fishermen looked up from their nets to wave and call out to the longship. His eyes welled up as he fought back tears and the Chief growled, "We did it men! We made it home. Odin and the Priestess be praised!" Quickly, the men roused themselves to action and with new found energy gained from seeing their homeland again pulled strongly on the oars.
Chief Svengald went back to the rudder and took in the sight of the filthy, but happy faces of his men. Of his original crew, five men had been lost. Four on the desperate march which led them to the Valley and the last by the hand of Valley Knight's younger self. The Chief was more than ready to stand in his longhouse with a bucket of honey meade in one hand and his wife's fine buttocks in the other! Then like the sting from a gadfly, Little Fish's words resounded in his mind. "You may not set foot upon your homeland by that which is dry or wet. You will not make contact with your wife by any means."
It was cruel to be within sight of his home at the proper time knowing his wife waited for him, his people needed him, but not be able to return. That was part of the bargain he made to pass through the gateway and save his men. However, the closer the ship drew to the shores of Aesir lands, the harder it got for the Chief to turn away. Like a bolt out of the blue, the Chief understood what the Demon Witch Aunt felt as she looked upon the home she'd been banished from long ago. He had only been gone for months by his recollection. Yet, he'd returned for a day and helped his ancestors establish their nation. Aunt defied her banishment and suffered severely. How well could he, a mere man fare going against the will of the gods?
Svengald did not want to find out. Gathering his wits about him the Chief retrieved the yellow stone and put it back into the leather pouch, drew the drawstring taught and tied it back on his belt. He had to get back to the island where the adult Little Fish waited. No doubt the stone he carried would be needed to help the Valley Knight and the child Little Fish return to the Valley. Before he went his way, Chief Svengald pulled his Third Man off the oars and said, "Come with me, I have instructions for you.”
The Chief stood at the bow of the longship and gave his home one last look. Much as he wanted to, going home was not for him. He made a promise to atone for the actions of his men back in the Valley and he was bound to keep it. In compliance with the bargain, the Chief gave no word to be given his wife. One day he might be released from his obligation, but there was no telling when that might be. Loving his wife as he did, Svengald realized it was terribly cruel to treat her so. However, he now lived among great powers and had seen for himself what happened to those who break bargains with them. Above all else, he'd given his sworn oath as a chieftain and that was the end of it.
His wife was still young and with the wealth he'd acquired now belonged to her. Ghilda would have many suitors and she would pick the best man for her. Though they were still far from shore, the Chief could see his longhouse on the hill overlooking the black gravel beach. It seemed like a dream but mere days before, he'd fought the Vanir Chieftain Ragmar on that very beach. His musings were interrupted by the sight of many small boats leaving the pier. They were coming out to meet them. Among the boats, the Chief's eye was caught by a woman standing at the bow of one of the ships with flame-colored red hair. It was his wife Ghilda. "Shit!"
The Chief turned back to his men and said, "Men, we have fought hard and have returned home. Take your rest and be with your families. Tell our people of our great adventures in the longhouse and when you're ready, take to the sea and return to the Valley. I'll keep an eye out for you and those you bring. My longhouse there will be open and waiting for you." His Third Man now promoted to First replied, "You're not coming with us?" With a cold hard stare the Chief replied, "No. When those of you who wish to return to the Valley are ready, seek out the witch Mjarga. She will give you the means to find your way back. Tell Mjarga her daughter was fine and she will be a grandmother."
The Chief turned away from the confused warrior to see the boats drawing nearer. "Damn!" grunted the Chief as he suddenly shoved aside the First Man and made a mad dash towards the aft end of the longship. His bewildered men turned from their oars as Svengald raced down the ship's centerboard. Under his breath the Chief grumbled, "Little Fish, you better open the way or I'm not going to be able to keep my part of the bargain! As he neared the aft end, a whirlpool formed in the calm waters of the fjord. Bright blue light erupted within causing all who saw it to shield their eyes. The Chief knew the gate was for him and dove headlong over the side!
Not bothering to surface, the Chief used his momentum to carry him toward the swirling water. Kicking his feet to maintain his forward motion the Chief suddenly felt a strong grip about his ankle! Wide-eyed, Svengald turned to see a beautiful woman with skin and flowing hair the colors of the shifting water. Bright red eyes took him in like those of a lost lover and the comely face smiled upon him with the smile of a leopard seal! The Chief recognized her as the underwater being he 'stole himself' from after the second time he escaped from Aunt's caverns. She had been kissing his unconscious self upon an ancient submerged throne and he took his unconscious other from her. Doing so made it possible for him to get to the adult Little Fish's island and thus gain the means to finally save his men.
The Chief could feel the water pressure building as she pulled him down and away from the whirlpool. He couldn't break free of her powerful grip and it would be a matter of instants before he passed out and succumbed to whatever terrible fate she planned. Doubting any weapon he had would have any effect, the Chief used what he had. Pulling Aunt's cane from his belt and taking off the cloth covering its yellow stone, bright golden light cut through the shifting blues of the deep fjord. The woman turned and wailed as the light forced her to release the Chief. Svengald felt his remaining molars rattle in his jaws at the horrific sound. Yet, he continued to hold the cane's head towards the wailing sea woman. Try as she may, the Sea Woman could not get close to him and finally retreated to the farthest reach of the cane's glow.
With the strange creature at bay, the Chief looked about to see where the whirlpool was only to find he'd been pulled far away from it. Desperately, the Chief swam towards the spinning vortex. He was rapidly reaching his limit for his lungs burned in protest for fresh air. Once within the vortex, he would be safe! Getting there before he drowned would be a problem. The solution to his dilemma was a submerged pile of boulders. If he pushed off the topmost boulder, he could gain the momentum needed to reach the vortex.
It was apparent the Sea Woman had no intention of allowing the Chief to escape into the vortex. From outside the sphere of the cane's light, the Sea Woman began to fan her arms like a miller's wheel. The Chief felt an abrupt building of the underwater current drawing him away from the vortex! Near to the point of blacking out, the Chief reached out with the cane and snagged a protrusion atop the highest boulder. In doing so, the light of the cane flashed in a powerful burst causing the boulders to shake as the land beneath them heaved! The blast of light made the water boil and hurled the Sea Woman end-over-end wailing into the dark depths. Using his last bit of strength, the Chief planted his feet atop the boulder and thrust himself into the vortex with the sound of tumbling stone filling his ears.
© 2011 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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