Ghilda Svengald’s Vife, her crew and the crews of the other storm-tossed longships watched in abject horror as the coils of a brilliantly illuminated serpent swirled beneath them! Within the whirlpool where they were trapped, the seas and the skies above calmed. Though still shrouded by a ceiling of dark clouds, for miles in all directions rose the glow of the serpent’s coils.
“Jörmungandr! It is the ‘Midgard Serpent’ himself beneath us!” gasped a crewwoman behind Ghilda.
Though paralyzed with fear, Ghilda quickly realized it didn’t make sense to be so. At any point, the great ‘World Serpent’ could destroy their flimsy ships and there would be nothing anyone could do. Forcing her legs to move, the pain from her injuries seems insignificant while faced with a creature all thought nothing more than legend. With her good arm, Ghilda reached over the side of the ship towards the scaly coils larger than any ten of the thickest oaks she’d ever seen combined!
Behind her, she could hear the gasps of her shield maidens as she reached perilously close to losing her balance. Just as her fingertips drew near enough to touch the serpent, the coil dived beneath the waves so quick the wind of its motion nearly sucked Ghilda from the boat! A wave rose up with such force as to fling the Chief’s Vife back into the longboat and into the waiting arms of her crew causing them to fall to the deck in an ungainly pile.
When the waters settled, the brilliant light under the waves along with the great coils was gone. Ghilda attempted to scramble from the pile of worn out and injured women and cried out when she moved her broken shield arm. With gritted teeth, she rolled off the pile and staggered to the opposite side of the longship. Looking over the side, the Chief’s Vife despaired.
“Gone! I reached out and nearly touched Jörmungandr! Now it’s gone….”
A gust of wind in the opposite direction forced all aboard to look in that direction. Flashing out over the dark waves was a bright golden light. The women began shouting and pointing in that direction and so did the other boat crews who had struggled over to rally with the Chief’s Vife’s vessel.
Dejected, Ghilda turned to where the others pointed and the sight of the golden light flashing caused her heart to bang against her breastbone!
“Svengald!”
Staggering about to pull her fellow shield maidens to their oars Ghilda screamed, “All you sea-devil bitches, man your oars! We are headed toward that light! It is no doubt our Chief and lord Svengald lighting the way to escape this portal to Niffelheim!”
Carefully as she could manage, Ghilda moved the unconscious Helmswoman aside and took her place. Looking as if she were guiding her crew into the jaws of battle, the Chief’s Vife was determined to reach her husband great storms and sea serpents bedammed!
“Raise the sail! The wind is hard on our asses for a change. We shall take advantage while we can! Row damn you all! Row for your lives!”
With the wind at their backs, the women found new energy as they threw themselves against the oars. Those too injured to properly row, moved their injured and unconscious fellows to the centerdeck and tended them with what little they had aboard.
Holding tight to the rudder, Ghilda looked to the prow of the ship and saw the light of the yellow stone grew brighter the closer they moved toward its mate out in the darkness. She was all but stripped of energy. Days at sea with no food or water and facing a slow, painful death with no chance of reaching the gates of Valhalla had both her and her fellow Aesir lower than low. But the light out there steadily growing brighter gave her and her people the power neither food nor magic could fill them with. Hope was the wellspring from which they now all drank!
Looking aft of her longship, Ghilda could make out a few more vessels following them. Over the wind, she could hear their captains calling out to their crews to row and hold their rudders steady. A spiteful pang stabbed her in the belly as the thought of how many men and boats had been lost to their privations and this damn storm. Forcing the thought out of her mind, the Chief’s Vife through the light of the stone could see a set of heavy breakers ahead.
The waves looked to be meant to keep them trapped within the confines of this heinous storm. Yet, each time they topped a rising wave, the golden light just beyond seemed to reach towards them. Ghilda was more than ready to ‘reach out’ with her good arm if it meant she could pull her people over the fast approaching wall of water.
“All right women! We get over that wall of water and we get out of here. We find my husband and he shall lead us home. We fail to give all and whatever strength we have left, we fail and we spend eternity here in this hell of the seas! I for one want to get back to Aesirfjord and see what happened after that wave went ashore. What will it be?”
The Chief’s Vife got her answer as women injured as they were lashed their worse off crewmates to the centerdeck and themselves to their oarbenches and oars.
Pleased, Ghilda shouted, “Sound the drum and beat us out a time to leap over or smash through the coming wall of water!”
As the pacemaker pounded the drum at double-time, Ghilda heard the other longships out in the darkness follow suit. Soon the pounding of drums rivaled the thunder in the skies above! Ever closer the lead ship lurched through the sea towards the watery barrier.
With each stroke of the oars, Ghilda souted, “Row damn you all, row for our lives!”
All that could be heard aboard ship were the sounds of the grunting and straining women, oars cycling in and out of the water and the pounding, pounding, pounding of the drum. With the wind at their backs, sail in full furl and the oars plying the rough sea like the legs of an insect over uneven stones, the longhsip climbed the base of the wave.
Upwards and upwards the ship climbed, but all too soon the mere power of womanly arms and backs weren’t enough to continue. Above them the wave crested and began the powerful collapse upon itself. The wind too had reached the point where it could no longer be of aid.
Then the sickening feeling of the ship’s momentum slowing returned. Ghilda remembered all too vividly what would come next. Casting a glance over the port side of the longship, the light of the yellow stone now brighter than any star in the sky shone on their possible means to escape this trap. Gripping the thick wooden rail, the Chief’s Vife turned hard hazel eyes fully towards the gap between the alternating waves.
With the voice of a woman possessed Ghilda screamed, “Hard to port! Drop the sail, do it now or we die!”
To be concluded....
© 2016 H. Wolfgang Porter. All Rights Reserved.
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