Dobrynia's Path 2: Ragnarok

By Raymond Towers

This is a story of adventure and glory, of great battles and wars, of triumphs and defeats taking place on the Nine Worlds of Viking lore. Ragnarok has come, and as a result, an entire universe is starting to collapse in on itself. The warrior Dobrynia must rally her fellow Valkyrie, perhaps to defy even the gods as she struggles to save her world from destruction. Rating: HIGH controversy.

The Beginning Of The End

“The tracks end here.” The gruff voice of Brynhilde was heard, just a few yards ahead. The rough woman’s red hair was a sharp contrast to the wintry landscape all around them.

The other two Valkyrie, Dobrynia and Geirhold, trudged through the barren trees and loose snow to get to her. Due to the cold, they all wore furred clothing over their armor. They even gripped their weapons with gloved hands.

“It will snow again, soon.” The blonde Geirhold noted, as she stared up at the darkening, tumultuous sky.

“Small matter.” Brynhilded told her. “Let the snow come as it will. What say you, Dobrynia?”

The raven-haired woman stepped next to her mentor, taking in the sparse and lonely landscape. They’d traversed through a cold region already in following those strange tracks that should not have been there. The creatures that made those tracks did not belong in that world, the world of men known as Midgard. Now, they’d reached the edge of living things, where the meager trees ended and the vast frozen tundra began.

“By Odin’s decree, we must go wherever the tracks will lead us.” Dobrynia said.

“Of course, of course.” Brynhilde stated, keeping her gaze on the empty land before them, and on the high mountains that could be seen in the far distance. “I fear this is the beginning of the end. This is the Great Filbumwinter of prophecy, which comes just before Ragnarok.”

Dobrynia opened her mouth to speak, but it was Geirhold’s voice that came forth first.

“We cannot be certain of that.” The blonde warrior said.

“The gods of Asgard tremble.” Brynhilde reminded them.

Truly, all three Valkyrie had seen how the faces of their gods had been filled with uncertainty and trepidation, just before Odin sent them on their mission.

“We will know the truth of it soon enough.” Their unruly captain said. “We can no longer follow our prey in our natural forms. Let us transform ourselves here, and let our hunt for these foul creatures continue.”

With that, and despite the freezing temperatures, all three Valkyrie began to undress.

Dobrynia worried as much as the others, for the beginning of Ragnarok would herald the destruction of the Nine Worlds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raymond Towers
• Release date: Dec 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465782724

Raymond Towers

Raymond Towers is an author of fantasy, horror and science fiction that strays away from the mainstream, plus a little in the way of true paranormal and other genres. He has written and independently published over forty titles, most of them full-length novels and collections, with several more on the way. The author has been a lifelong resident of warm and sunny southern California, a location that pops up frequently in his writing. At the moment, the author is looking for ways to reach new readers all over the world, in addition to pursuing his great love of writing and taking it to the next level.

Book preview

About the cover: The cover image is titled Warrior Woman, Fantasy Fashion Idea. It was produced by T. Tulik, and can be found at Fotolia.

About this title: This is a story of adventure and glory, of great battles and wars, of triumphs and defeats taking place on the Nine Worlds of Viking lore. Ragnarok has come, and as a result, an entire universe is starting to collapse in on itself. The warrior Dobrynia must rally her fellow Valkyrie, perhaps to defy even the gods as she struggles to save her world from destruction. Rating: HIGH controversy.

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Other e-books by Raymond Towers:

A Terrible Thing To Waste

Before The Seven 1 – Don Diego Meets Lucky Luis

Demonic Murmurs Collection

Dobrynia’s Path 1 – Dark Harbinger

Roaches In The Attic 0 – Non-Retrieval

The Throwback

The Two Sides Of Humburg

Two Bedroom Cottage

Variant Worlds 1 Collection

The Beginning Of The End

The tracks end here. The gruff voice of Brynhilde was heard, from a few yards ahead. The rough woman’s fiery red hair and black cloak was a sharp contrast to the wintry landscape all around them.

The other two Valkyrie, Dobrynia and Geirhold, trudged through the barren trees and loose snow to get to her. Due to the cold, they all wore furred clothing over their armor. They even gripped their weapons with gloved hands.

It will snow again, soon. The blonde Geirhold noted, as she stared up at the darkening, tumultuous sky.

Small matter. Brynhilded told her. Let the snow come as it will. What say you, Dobrynia?

The raven-haired woman stepped next to her mentor, taking in the sparse and lonely landscape. They’d traversed through a cold region already in following those strange tracks that should not have been there. The creatures that made those tracks did not belong in that world, the world of men known as Midgard. Now, they’d reached the edge of living things, where the meager trees ended and the vast frozen tundra began.

By Odin’s decree, we must go wherever the tracks will lead us. Dobrynia said.

Of course, of course. Brynhilde stated, keeping her gaze on the empty land before them, and on the high mountains that could be seen in the far distance. I fear this is the beginning of the end. This is the Great Filbumwinter of prophecy, which comes just before Ragnarok.

Dobrynia opened her mouth to speak, but it was Geirhold’s voice that came forth first.

We cannot be certain of that. The blonde warrior said.

The gods of Asgard tremble. Brynhilde reminded them.

Truly, all three Valkyrie had seen how the faces of their gods had been filled with uncertainty and trepidation, just before Odin sent them on their mission.

We will know the truth of it soon enough. Their unruly captain said. We can no longer follow our prey in our natural forms. Let us transform ourselves here, and let our hunt for these foul creatures continue.

With that, and despite the freezing temperatures, all three Valkyrie began to undress.

Dobrynia worried as much as the others, for the beginning of Ragnarok would herald the destruction of the Nine Worlds.

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Dobrynia’s Path 2 - Ragnarok

Raymond Towers

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Raymond Towers

Smashwords Edition, License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All of the characters in this e-book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, whether living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This e-book contains a HIGH amount of controversial subject matter.

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Table of Contents

Introduction

Part One

Victor No Name

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Part Two

Dobrynia The Goddess

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Part Three

Further Tales of Midgard

Appendix

About The Author

Author Website

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Introduction

I’ll try to keep this intro short so you can get to the action faster.

This book was tough to write. I had to immerse myself completely in Norse / Viking culture, specifically from around the time of the early Medieval Age. From the everyday habits of the Scandinavian peoples, to their mythology, to their dining habits, to their slang and mode of dressing, to the flora and fauna of their bitterly cold regions. It was a lot to remember, and a lot to keep straight in my head. I tried to stick as close to the actual historical record as I could in order to preserve a sense of realism.

I’ve listed quite a few references in the appendix to this novel, with links to websites that provided a wealth of information on the various aspects of Norse culture. These sites include pictures of restored Viking villages, a shop that sells replicas of Viking memorabilia, which I used to visualize what jewelry and weapons my characters used, and even a site that promotes role-playing, so I could better understand what my characters wore. The Eyewitness book on Vikings, printed by DK Publishing, was another excellent source of information. Although this book was written for a much younger audience than myself, it was extremely helpful in showing me pictures of Norse era artifacts. While viewing these pictures I would write down descriptions of similar items for this novel.

A special thanks goes to Raven Kaldera of Northern Tradition Shamanism, for allowing me permission to use some of his incredible and very detailed descriptions of the Nine Worlds, and especially of Helheim and Vanaheim. At the time I happened upon his various webpages, I was in a bind over how to depict the Norse version of Hell, as the mythological information I found was very vague and spotty. Call it synchronicity, but once I’d discovered Kaldera’s vivid depictions, it was as if a huge piece of the figurative puzzle came into place. A lot of smaller pieces that were floating around in my head suddenly conformed around it.

Parts One and Two are the main parts of the novel. Part Three contains a handful of short stories that I wrote to get a handle on a few of the concepts and characters, and most specifically on the relationship between the mentor, Brynhilde, and her young pupil, Dobrynia. On top of that, you get to read about the brash Valkyrie Hlokk one more time. Mucky-middens and kiss my arse!

I encourage the reader to become familiar with Norse mythology, possibly even before reading this novel, as I throw a lot of names, places and concepts out at a very rapid pace. I’d hate for the reader to have their head swirling about, as mine did in trying to keep all these people and places in order. To that purpose, a large portion of the appendix includes the most salient points to remember, so if you become confused about something, you might want to check that section for the background information.

Well, that’s about enough of an introduction, don’t you think?

Let’s get on with the show.

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Part One

Victor No Name

"Why die old and feeble, when instead, one can die a glorious death in battle? A death worthy of the gods, worthy of Valhalla." - Brynhilde the Valkyrie

1

Victor No Name found himself standing and staring up at a low ceiling, where a loose light fixture swayed back and forth as if someone had roughly slapped it a scant moment before. The bare bulb pulsed like a dying heart, giving flashes of confined walls colored in mottled shades of white, yellow and green, like bird shit. Shadows leaped and danced as he placed timid fingers on the wall’s surface, finding it sickly moist. And smelling as rank as garbage steaming under a hot sun.

He tried to shake the smelly substance off his hand, but it clung fast to his fingers as he walked anxiously beside the wall’s edge. Four short walls, sans windows or doors, and together with the bare cement floor and the nondescript ceiling, forming a perfect cube. He was trapped.

But he was not alone.

As his sense of panic began to ascend, Victor forced himself to turn and face his unwelcome companion. It was the Grim Reaper, standing a full foot taller than Victor. The Reaper’s great hooded cloak swayed as if from an invisible breeze. His bony skull was yellowed and dull. The eternally grinning figure of Death was but an arm’s length away from him.

Panting from fear, Victor backed up against the wet wall. He felt the ill substance oozing onto his bare back, but much preferred its slimy feel and fetid stink to being a few inches closer to his own demise.

But Death was a taunting beast, as it sneered and kept grinning its unholy grin. As it suddenly snapped its jaws open and closed in a rapid and silent, mocking laughter. It stepped closer to Victor, only to have the young man scamper away a few feet further. As if Victor had any real hope of escape in such a tiny space.

The light bulb stopped swinging, followed by a final fading of its eerie glow. Just before the darkness became engulfing, impenetrable, Death lunged forward. It embraced him like an over-passionate lover, crushing at his ribs and exploding the breath from his lungs. Victor opened his mouth to scream, but the frantic voice that rang in his ears a moment later did not belong to him.

Victor’s eyes snapped open. He sat upright so abruptly that he momentarily dazed himself. Hoping to regain his composure, he closed his eyes, and at the same time tried to concentrate on exactly what it was that had just alerted his senses. It was a scream, a woman’s terrified scream that had rattled him out of his slumber. He was sure of it. Could it have been Dobrynia’s scream that he’d just heard?

More memories plagued him. He should have been dead, he realized, recalling the last few moments of a pitched battle with several cruel and murderous demons. Had he died again? The first time took place after he’d been shot by a zealous gang member, a thug out to make a name for himself. Now a second time, a second death, at the hands of those insane people who had allowed their bodies to be possessed by devils?

The young man opened his eyes again. He found himself lying in the corner of a long, dark room. A small and otherwise happy, crackling fire was set into this room’s center, giving off adequate illumination. Directly over this fire pit, he saw a fat cauldron suspended by a tripod of black iron. The first thing Victor imagined was that he’d been captured by a witch and taken to her woodland lair.

Gazing further, he saw in the fire’s glow walls made of horizontal wooden beams, and bleating softy in another corner, a handful of small goats. That’s right, he was looking at real, live, fucking goats. There were some chickens loitering around as well, scurrying to and fro and clucking frequently, as if they were nervously gossiping some dreaded secret to one another.

Something extraordinary was taking place, Victor thought. He could feel the electricity hanging in the air like a blanket.

Where the hell am I? He asked out loud, his voice so groggy it almost sounded as if he were drunk. Or as if he could barely remember how to use his throat.

Blankets covered him from the waist down, he noticed. Several layers of them. He grabbed the bunch, becoming aware that the top blanket was made up of coarse hairs. Its top was furry, its underside leathery. The other two blankets were made of some equally rough fabric, but at least they weren’t made out of some wild beast’s dead hide.

Yuck, he thought, tossing the first of the blankets away. When Victor started setting aside the remaining blankets, he realized he was naked. His confusion quickly matured into anger.

Where are all my clothes at? What the hell is going on, man?

He shot irritated glances at all corners of the barely lit room. The mere ardor of his gaze scattered the number of hens about like a whiplash. Behind a piece of furniture that looked like an artist’s easel, with strands of yellow and blue yarn all over it, Victor noticed the cowering shapes of two small children.

A boy nervously peered back at him, perhaps all of ten years of age, and behind him stood a little girl of about eight. Both were blonde-haired and fair-skinned, both dressed in a manner he’d never seen before. The boy wore a long and very faded blue shirt that went down almost to his knees, which probably once belonged to an adult man. He also had on a pair of equally faded, but not quite as loose pair of trousers, and a shapeless and leathery, very wrinkled pair of shoes that seemed to be sown together in a bunch along the top. The girl wore a long-sleeved and baggy dress, of a lighter and prettier shade of blue. Its material went all the way down to her ankles. Over this she wore an ample brown apron with several pockets sewn across the middle. The girl was also wearing those ugly-looking, wrinkled bag-shoes.

Hey, kid! Victor addressed the oldest of the pair. What’s going on around here? Do you know where my clothes are?

He watched as the boy’s eyes widened in horror. The boy gasped back at what must have been his little sister, who stood as petrified as he was. Lufy! The draugar’s come back! It’s just as the Valkyrie said he would! The dead man’s come back from the underworld!

Draugar? What the hell was that? He could see that the children were terrified of him, and rightly so. Victor would have been pretty terrified himself if he’d just watched someone come back from the dead. He shook away his impatience. When he spoke next it was in a much calmer and gentler tone. Can you please show me where my clothes are? I would like to get dressed, so help me out here. Okay?

The young children were reluctant to even gaze in his direction.

I promise, I won’t hurt you.

The little boy built up his resolve for a moment, until he finally nodded a few times and ran over to Victor’s side of the room. Deftly, the boy entered a corner shrouded in darkness. He pulled down several garments from hooks mounted on the wall, bringing the bundle back to where Victor sat. The boy dropped the clothing near Victor’s feet, putting just enough distance between them to avoid Victor’s arms, should Victor have turned malevolent and tried to nab him.

Victor stared down at the strange garments he’d been presented with. Hey, these aren’t my clothes. He tried to recall exactly what he’d been wearing last, when…

Another scream, this time from much further away, scrambled his focus. It was a pained scream. A scream of danger.

Victor looked back at the two kids, who were both now agitated and staring at a large, leather patch hoisted on the wall. Apparently, this served as the door. What’s happening here? Is somebody in trouble?

The blond boy simply glanced at him. He was trembling with fear.

The girl, Lufy, had tears streaming down her cheeks. She dared run a few steps toward Victor and burst out, It’s the dwarves! They’ve come to take all the women away! They’ve taken our mama and our sister!

What? Victor asked, wondering if he’d heard the words correctly.

The panic in the little girl’s face, however, was unmistakable. He swung his legs off the low-lying bed frame he was on and pounced upon the garments on the floor. At first, he couldn’t make heads or tails of them. There were two pairs of brown pants, two beige shirts of different sizes, and what looked to be a dark blue cloak.

As Victor tried on the first pair of pants, he became aware that they were way too big for him, or maybe, he was missing something. He called out to get the boy’s attention. Hey! Maybe I can help, maybe I can do something, but I don’t know how to put these clothes on! Show me how to tie these things together!

The boy stared back at him with his mouth wide open.

Lufy, however, rushed to his side with hope blossoming on her countenance. Can you really help our mama?

I can try. Victor replied. But you’ve got to help me get dressed!

You’ve got it all wrong. Lufy mildly scolded him, seemingly relieved to have something besides dreadful thoughts of her mother and sister to dwell upon. Those thicker pants go on the outside. The other pair must go on first.

Why do I need two pairs of pants?

Because you’ll freeze outside. The boy finally broke out of his spell. Mama says she’s never seen it get so cold this early on. It’s been getting colder ever since the dwarves started attacking our village.

As Victor hurriedly got dressed, it was only now dawning on him that he’d been standing naked in the presence of two children. Neither kid had shown much of a reaction. After glancing again at the squalor around him, he understood why. The structure, the house, had no separate rooms, no privacy to it whatsoever. Heck, these people were living in the same room as their livestock.

Victor donned the two pairs of pants in the correct sequence, but they were still so loose he had to hold them to keep them from falling down to his ankles. What next?

Gam, you get his boots strapped on while I fix his clothes. Lufy took charge, holding one of the shirts, the short-sleeve, up to him. Put this one on next.

The boy, Gam, dropped to his knees and reached under the lumpy bed Victor had vacated only minutes before. He produced a pair of short boots with leather thongs for laces. Victor placed his bare feet into their wide openings, and watched as the boy first started stuffing the pant legs into the boots, then secured everything together with more leather strips.

As soon as the first shirt went over his shoulders, the girl pulled out several pairs of brooches from one of her apron pockets, and started clipping the pants together with the shirt. These are my luckiest brooches. They’re inscribed with runes, so I know you’ll come back with mama and my big sister. Now, put on the other shirt.

The second shirt came halfway down on Victor’s thighs. Gam stood ready with a worn leather belt to secure around Victor’s waist. The cloak came last. A single ornate, metallic brooch fastened it comfortably around Victor’s neck.

Okay, now that I’m dressed, Victor dropped down on one knee to address the children. Tell me what is happening out there.

It’s the dwarves! Gam reminded him, as if he should have already known. They’ve been threatening all of the homes on this side of the village. Over the last few weeks, they’ve killed our dogs, they’ve killed some of our animals, and now they’ve started taking all of the women away!

Can you save our mama and our sister? Lufy worriedly asked. Can you please?

I’m going to try. Victor nodded. Is there anything I can use to fight with?

No, our father took everything when he left for the Great War. Gam frowned. All we have left is a few of his tools.

Show me. Victor asked.

The two kids led him near the corner of the room where the goats were penned, with the animals shying away and voicing their sharp displeasure at being approached. From a small selection of hardware, Victor selected a simple hand scythe, an eight inch long, sharpened bit made for a large wooden auger, and a small hammer with squared ends. The hammer Victor slid behind his belt on one side of his waist, the bit went wrapped in a sheath across from it, and the scythe he would carry in his grip.

Victor hurried to the animal skin strapped to the entryway, and found the ends were merely tucked around the wooden frame of the entrance and knotted together. As he undid enough of these to exit, he had a sobering thought. These dwarves, they can be killed, right? They’re not immortal or made out of magic, are they?

They use magic, Gam announced. But some of the men from the village have been able to kill them before with their swords.

Lufy clung to the boy’s shoulder and nodded in agreement.

A moment later, the hesitant warrior from a different world slid past the animal covering and strode outside.

Victor had barely taken three steps into the night, when he began to wish for the more temperate weather of Southern California. The air was still as death, yet the cold gnawed at him like a living thing, biting at his exposed face and hands. He could feel his balls shriveling closer to his body for warmth.

I bet Santa Claus is hiding around here somewhere. He grumbled through chattering teeth.

To one side lay a huge black expanse that he momentarily did not recognize as the ocean, for it was so still and quiet. Brush and trees took up the rest of the landscape, with a vague path cutting a skewed opening in the distance. Did dwarves even use paths, he wondered.

Which way, which way to go? Victor muttered, straining to hear any unusual noises, any sounds of struggle. And suddenly, inexplicably, he knew.

Victor took a few steps toward the dark foliage, quickly growing accustomed to the strange boots he wore. Only seconds later, he was trampling forward like a Bigfoot bounding through the woods. Sticks cracked like barking dogs and low hanging branches shook like snare drums, but that was fine with him. Let them know he was coming. He never did like sneaking around in the dark when there was a fight brewing somewhere.

Victor must have stomped along for ten minutes, before he saw lights swaying in the distance. No, these weren’t regular lights, he soon realized, but waving flames from torches. He increased his pace in their direction.

Let… me… go! A woman’s sharp voice hissed past the trees, followed by a series of grunts and growls as unseen combatants struggled for the upper hand. Finally, the woman’s shriek rang out yet again and a body was heard to pummel to the ground. Give me my daughter, you vile monsters! Give her back!

Wait. A deep voice cut through the darkness. Loud sniffing could be heard a thin second later. I can smell someone nearby. Burvin, Cauffen, hold the torches out behind us. We’re being followed!

That was his cue, Victor No Name acknowledged, stepping forward quickly and allowing the intrusive flames to illuminate his arrival.

He counted three dwarves, each of them perhaps four feet tall, with great big heads, long gray-white beards and noses the size and shape of plums. They were hairy creatures as well, wild of countenance and savagely sneering, yet dressed in the manner of unkempt men. Two gleaming jeweled daggers and two torches were distributed among the group. These three dwarves dragged an unconscious body along the leafy ground, wrapped in a web of thick and ropy netting.

They were all sniffing the air at once, like hound dogs, although Victor could not fathom how they could get a whiff of anything other than their own pungent and grimy odors.

A second woman, the mother, lay a few feet away, holding her hand to her mouth to stifle a sudden gasp. Her face looked much older than he’d imagined a mother of two young children to be, haggard and worn from long years of hard living. A full half of her face was draped in blood, clotting her dirty blonde hair against her cheek and neck. Her arms and legs too showed signs of brutal violence.

Draugar… She fearfully whispered, visibly shrinking back from his appearance. The dead man, the Draugar…

There was that word again, Victor noticed. Whatever a Draugar was, it must be something pretty scary, judging from the reactions of the woman and her two small children.

He is not a Norseman. One of the dwarves concluded. But he is a man none the less.

A soon to be dead man. Another chuckled with sinister intentions. We’ll carve him up with his own sickle, we will. We’ll bring his head back to show the others, and mayhaps they’ll know what sort of man he truly is.

He’ll be the main course. The last of the filthy creatures added with a chortle. And the dead girl will be our dessert.

In such a situation, what might Doby say, Victor asked himself. She was always coming up with something cool, something hardcore to utter as she prepared to enter a fray. He spouted out, Your mothers were all wild pigs with snouts uglier than yours!

The three unsightly dwarves were stunned, but only for a moment.

He speaks our language! One of the creatures spat out. Impossible! How can one not a dwarf speak our language?

We heard wrong! A second denied. It isn’t possible! A human cannot speak as we do!

A bad omen, this is. The last one intoned gravely. Leave the girl’s body, for I sense that this one is somehow cursed. Cursed, I tell you!

No! He is only a man! He can be killed!

Victor sensed their fear, their curiosity, and above all, their desire to spill blood. He had to capitalize on his few advantages. Speaking in a manner he thought Dobrynia would use, he said, I am a Draugar. I have come to claim your worthless souls for myself!

The walking dead! A dwarf gasped, clutching at his chest with a free hand.

May the All-Father preserve us! Another implored. Let us withdraw from this place, before he returns to the realm of the dead and takes us along with him!

The third dwarf, the most superstitious of them, waved the other two back. Both of you, quiet! Retreat into the woods and allow me to appease the Draugar. This one waited until the other dwarves were gone, glancing nervously at Victor as if the newcomer might suddenly cast a spell or proceed with some other dire action, or whatever a Draugar was supposed to do. Finally, when the dwarf felt his companions were safely distant, he turned towards Victor No Name and pointed at their immobile capture. We’ve taken something that belongs to you, have we?

You have.

Well, you may have the girl back. The dwarf bartered. There is no need to haunt us further, Draugar. Take her and leave us be.

I will take her. Victor agreed. And as part of our trade, I will not follow you, but you will leave your torch with me. The girl’s mother must find her way back to her house in the darkness. Remember this moment well. I do not wish to see you again trespassing onto my lands!

Very well, Draugar. The ugly dwarf bowed in submission. It stepped backwards cautiously, dropping its torch on the ground like a thief, and hurried off in the direction its two fellows had taken.

Victor waited until the dwarf’s noises faded off into the distance, before he turned and whispered towards the beaten and sobbing woman on the ground. Are you hurt?

Wordlessly, the woman crawled forward until she came to her bound daughter. She seemed to be checking her for signs of life, but when there were none to be found, the woman sat up and cried out. They’ve killed her! The dwarves have killed her! She was just a child!

Victor took a few steps towards her, only to have the older woman scatter back in fear.

I’m not going to hurt you. He tried to calm her, although she still looked three heartbeats away from having a heart attack. Instead, he went towards the dead girl, carefully undoing the web-like netting from around her with the help of his short sickle. Once her form had been freed, Victor stood up with the body in his arms. I need you to pick up the torch and lead us back to your house. I think I got myself lost out here.

When the woman failed to move, the relentless cold motivated Victor to get started without her. He’d taken a dozen steps in a random direction, when the woman finally caught up with him, although she cautiously kept her distance.

This way. Was all she said, as she took the lead.

They’d walked a few minutes before she spoke again. How is it that you can speak in the tongue of the dwarves and in the tongue of my people, all in the same breath?

You couldn’t understand what the dwarves were saying?

Of course not! The woman spat back, as if deeply offended. Only witches can speak with such foul creatures!

Victor wondered exactly what the woman knew about him. I’m not a witch. I come from a land very far from here where it doesn’t snow, where we have a warm sun pretty much all year long. I don’t really know how I can understand the dwarves, or how I can understand even what you’re saying now, only that some kind of magic translates the words as they reach my ears. I’m guessing that same magic translates the words coming out of my mouth.

The woman trudged on in silence, or nearly so, but he did manage to catch one muttered word. It was, Witch.

Now, listen. Victor called to her. The Valkyrie named Dobrynia and I, we were fighting many demons in my land. I was badly hurt. I thought I was going to die, but I don’t remember what happened after that. Tell me how I ended up inside your house.

We prayed to the All-Father for help, as we’ve always done. The woman revealed suspiciously, motioning him forward with the torch. The dwarves have been attacking the people of my village, destroying our crops, killing our animals, for many weeks now. Three Valkyrie were sent to us, and they brought you along with them. You appeared as the dead, but they said you would return to the living, and may the All-Father forgive me, but I believed them not at all. They went hunting for the dwarves, to search out where they are coming from. They claimed they could not take you with them. So they left you in our longhouse for the time being, until their return. They paid us a few gold coins to keep watch over you, and promised us more. She paused for a long moment. It is more money than we’ve had in some time.

Victor mulled this over. How long have they been gone?

Three nights and two days.

And these dwarves, you say they’ve been attacking a lot recently, more often than before?

The woman turned back to face him. There have never been dwarves in these parts. It’s as if they suddenly appeared from the clear air. The Valkyrie mentioned that none have been able to explain the strange happenings to our Midgard, not even the gods themselves. The appearance of the dwarves is only broadening the mystery.

One last question. What exactly is a Draugar?

You are, of course. A walking dead man. A demon come back from hell to wreak havoc and claim its revenge among the living, revenge for being disturbed in the grave.

As they walked into the small clearing before the house, the woman lowered her head and motioned Victor in. Put my daughter just inside the doorway. I’ll cover her up in her blanket. We’ll bury her in the morning.

Somberly, Victor did so, noticing the old woman doing her best to wipe her tears and blood before she went inside. It was the only time he saw the woman weeping for her lost child.

2

Victor woke up about noon the next day, his body still fatigued and recovering from his second resurrection. He’d slept in his underpants and shirt this time, although he’d removed the brooches, and was much quicker at putting on the rest of his clothes than the previous night. Trying to secure the brooches to his clothing proved a frustrating matter, yet he was curious to see where the other occupants of the longhouse had gone, as he was the only person still inside.

He drew away the hide suspended before the door and stepped out. Lufy was the first to spot him, laughing uproariously at his feeble attempt to dress himself. The girl galloped over to instruct him properly. When that failed, the little girl began adjusting the brooches herself.

The woman of the house had busied herself by digging out a grave, but due to the hard soil it was at a pitifully shallow depth. Victor attempted to take over the task, but the woman shook him off, claiming the endeavor was strictly a family matter. The second time Victor asked, her growing exhaustion must have taken its toll, for she simply set the crude shovel on the ground and stepped away. The shovel was made up of a battered iron spade screwed onto the typical long, rounded handle. It was the ugliest shovel he’d ever seen.

Victor found that he still possessed his augmented strength, for he formed a suitable grave in a short amount of time. He sought out the somber mother, whom he found kneeling and praying with her two children, over to one side of the longhouse. They were praying to the god Thor, he observed, crudely drawn onto a rough plaque of wood.

The woman requested that her daughter, still wrapped in a blanket, be placed inside the grave, while her brother and sister brought out the young woman’s personal items to be buried with her. A few necklaces of pewter, adorned with pendants of colored glass, a comb carved from an elk’s antler, and a single pink-hued dress were place alongside the still body. Everything else that had belonged to the young girl, the mother prayed, was to be shared in the household by the others.

The scene was so depressing that Victor followed the boy, Gam, as he was sent to produce a ward to be placed in the grave. He found the little one taking a small hammer and chisel to a long sliver of rock. Hey, kid. What’s your name again?

Gamalbam. The boy answered, without pausing from his work. It means ‘son of Gamall.’ Most everybody just calls me Gam, though, like my father.

Well, Gam, my name is Victor. He stated, kneeling down next to the boy. And where I come from, men greet each other by shaking their hands. Hold out your hand like this, so I can show you.

The youth did as he was told.

So, Gam, what are you doing?

Gam went back to his task. I’m inscribing this stone with runes. They will keep evil spirits and monsters away from my sister’s grave. The evil ones will not be able to find her body and steal it for themselves. She will not become a Draugar like you.

Victor felt this an odd thing for the boy to be saying. He straightened up to allow the boy to continue his task. Last night you said that your father went to the Great War. What is that? Who is at war?

Gam, see to your ward. The boy’s mother warned, quickly stepping up between her son and Victor. And you, Draugar, would do best to stay away from my little ones.

I was just talking to him. Victor defended his actions. And I’m not a Draugar, whatever that is. I’m a normal person, just like you are.

I don’t know what you are. The woman glared back. But I do know that things are not always what they appear to be, and I do know that you do not belong here among us. Valkyrie gold be damned, I am taking you to our town proper and leaving you there just as soon as we are finished giving our farewells to my daughter. Keep your distance from my child.

Seeing little point in starting an argument, Victor quietly stepped away from the longhouse, from the entire vicinity of it. He started off in a random direction, then thought better of it and walked nearer to the shoreline. Gentle waves lapped lazily on the beach, washing over a vast array of craggy rocks and half buried boulders. Unlike the warm and inviting sands in San Diego, he thought, this beach was as uninviting and as cold as the rest of this place.

So much for fun in the sun. He lamented.

He turned back towards the house. From all appearances, it looked like one of those longhouses Dobrynia sometimes spoke of, except it was much smaller