Hamrammr Begins:: Book Two

By Katrina A Trujillo

The world is a dangerous place full of things that go bump in the night. Loki Wulf battles the odds of being called a monster to create a Refuge for the supernatural creatures. His sons Beo and Thane Wulf take up the mantle head when he passes and continue on with his dremas of having a sanctuary for all of those creatures that are scorned by th

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Mar 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643672120

Katrina A Trujillo

I have enjoyed writing and reading for as long as I can remember. As a child I would create fantasy worlds that would have different characters and adventures in them. Now as an adult I still can create those worlds so that others can enjoy them as much as I do.

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HAMRAMMR BEGINS

Book Two

By

Katrina A. Trujillo

Hamrammr Begins

Copyright © 2019 by Katrina A. Trujillo. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of URLink Print and Media.

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Published in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-64367-213-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64367-212-0 (Digital)

Sci-Fi

22.01.19

Contents

Part One: Loki and Sheba

Prologue

Chapter One: It is time to move on

Chapter Two: Near the borders of Scotland and England

Chapter Three: Face off

Chapter Four: Fight over Rights

Chapter Five: Loki is caught by Wolfsbane

Chapter Six: Fleeing for the ship

Chapter Seven: Adrift as time passes out on the waves

Part Two: The Tale of Thane and Beo

Chapter Eight: Birth of the Brothers

Chapter Nine: 1764

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven: Woeful Tale

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen: Break Away

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen: Tensions Rising

Part Three: War Has Begun

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One: Prison Ship

Chapter Twenty Two: Dreams are for the living

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Part Four: Final Countdown

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Thirty

Chapter Thirty one

Dedication To my

Parents for they are always our beginning, even when at times we struggle they are there to help lift us back up again.

Part One

Loki and Sheba

Beginnings

Beginnings are the hardest.

Stemming from the endings of chaos.

Splintered, shredded, broken pieces needing;

To be once more placed together. Stitched, glued, repaired the damage

Done. The hardest part of ending is starting again.

Prologue

Death is found not in nature but in man’s fear of the unknown

1002 CE

Fire rages, an inferno, that lights up the dark cloud covered evening. Women, children, and even the few men left watch as cottages and homes go up in ember and blaze. Dark smoke spiraling lazily up to join the dark ominous clouds overhead. An elderly lady is kneeling black soot stained tears falling down her wrinkled cheeks as she rocks a young child back and forth in her arms. The child is dead, having taken a heavy blade to the soft belly, blood and entrails spilling out onto the hungry dry ground below. The elderly lady was the child’s only relative, to slow to have come to the boys rescue and too old to offer anything worthy of the child’s life. The men said they came because another village had heard rumors and seen witchcraft taking place in this village, and when the village leader denied the accusation, it was the people of the village who suffered the consequences of his actions. Now the village is destroyed with the dead littering the floor around the burning town as the last of the murder’s ride into the darkness beyond. Amongst those standing, watching the homes burn is a set of twins, a boy and girl of about nine years of age. Their mother grips them to her in fear, her face ashen in fright of what had been done to the village. Her husband the village leader lays dead not too far away his head having been severed from his body. He had been the first to die, having tried to get the riders to leave the village unharmed had started to shift, biting into the lead horsemen and pulling him from his mount. Yet, he was too weak to complete it. Having suffered for most of his life with the weak bones and brittle strength, he collapsed after the horsemen shoved him.

Landing on his knees, shaking from the effort it took to try to rise, the village leader did not stand a chance against the younger and stronger human. Who raised his sword and with one sweep of the blade decapitated the half transformed man. Then the chaos began across the village. The twins clutched at their mother, wondering what would become of them now after the death of their father. Their mother stood for a few more minutes than knowing what would happen should she remain any longer within the village, started to back up slowly pulling her two children with her. The village would blame them for the mess, for the arrival of the living death known as man. The mother was the one who was a witch her mate had been the lycanthrope or better known by Hamrammr, one child followed in her footsteps and the other child followed in her husband’s footsteps. One was a warlock, the boy, she had called Michael and her daughter who she called Sheba was the Hamrammr. Both would be persecuted and killed if caught. She finally turned pulling both children deeper into the darkness of the woods. Where her familiar waited for them, having ran off at the first sign of danger to prepare for a swift get away if need be.

The familiar was a large, black feline with spiked spiraling horns curved back across his skull, smaller more straight horns arched from behind those and even smaller ones graced across his shoulder blades and again dotted along the hip bones. The beast held snugly in its jaws a very heavy leather bag. Which had been hidden in the forest just for this reason alone. As the witch and her children came into sight the beast rose from its crouched position. The witch stopped besides her familiar reaching down she lifted both of her children onto the beast’s back, allowing them to grip onto the thick mane that rippled in curls and braids around the skull and shoulders.

Where are we going now mother? Michael asked, his dark blonde hair lay in thick curls around his head, his golden brown eyes watched her. The witch paused, smiling as best she could through her pain and grief over the death of her mate.

Hopefully to a place that will offer far more protection than this one, my child! was her reply as she started to lead the familiar through the woods.

Will we be okay, do you think they will hate us forever? Sheba asked, her dark brown eyes filling with tears at the thought. The witch turned and cupped her daughter’s cheek in her hands.

I do not know what lays ahead of us nor do I know how life will go, but someday I hope that all of this pain and grief will go away and we may find some peace amongst those who once persecuted us. She replied, pulling her heavy cloak off of herself and placing it around her two children. Come, we must make good distance if we are to find this place. And once more they started to move forward. Michael moved his hand to cover that of his sisters as they watched ahead of them in the darkness of the woods.

Don’t worry sis, we’ll never be separated, and I promise that I shall always be here for you! Michael whispered to his younger twin. Sheba nodded pushing one hand up to wipe away her tears. They continued on in a solemn silence.

Further away in the dark cold winter of Iceland a large black wolf like creature loped across the ice and snow. The hunters which had been racing to keep up were slowed down by the heavy drifts that wafted across the slopes. The beast was leading them farther away from the rest of the small group that lay sleeping in a cave. The large female she beast held her head down low eyes watching as her two pups slumbered on in the cold cave. A howl rent the air and the she beast lifted her head up, glancing once more at the pups she rose. Bracing against the cold she leaped out onto the first would be attacker, her jaws closing with deadly force across the skull of the man which had approached her den. An arrow whizzed through the icy air and embedded deeply into the female’s back, just as the first attacker fell so did the female. Blood spraying across the frost covered rocks of the cliff as her lung collapsed beneath the brunt force of the arrow. She lay gasping for breath, a soft whine escaping from her muzzle and her claw like fingers reaching out to grasp at the arrow head peeking out of her chest.

Footsteps crunching in the snow filled the dreary air as the second attacker approached sword raised at the ready. The she wolf could not move, whining more softly she hoped her mate would get here on time before it was too late. Just as the sword raised over her head, steel glinting in the hazy moon, the man screamed as a larger wolf attacked him from the side, blood sprayed across the she wolf’s hide as the second attacker’s artery was torn open. The larger male stopped to take in the injured female, nuzzling at her shoulder and head. His nose taking in the damage done as his eyes filled in the sight of the arrow. The wound was not life threatening toward a Hamrammr but had she been human she would most likely die from her injury. The arrow needed to be removed so she can heal, but for now all that can be done was to get rid of the other hunters.

Ears flicking backward the male turned and loped back around the den sight and leaping through a heavy bush landed with a solid thud on another of the hunters. He made quick work, jaws and claws tearing into the soft tissue, shredding the steel armor and eating out the inner organs of the man before leaping away. Just as another arrow embedded into the spot which he had been standing on a few minutes ago. Whirling in midair the wolf landed on his hind feet. Rising to tower over the man he caught the last hunter by his throat. Lifting him high off of his feet to swing around and smash into rocks before tossing him over the cliff into the dark twirling waters below. The beast stood for a few more minutes before turning to head back to the den and his family.

In the den he found the remains of a struggle, looks like there had been a fifth hunter who had slipped past the adult wolves to attack the pups. Out of the blood stains which the she wolf rested headless against the moss and grass covered floor, as did one of the pups bodies lay across that of his mother’s. The larger male sniffed around the den, the second pup was missing had the hunter ran with the pup to finish him off later? Letting out a low whine, the male listened for a response. Ears quivering in grief and rage and sorrow. Wait! There, a soft yelp could be heard from behind the she wolf’s body, another yelp. Startled the male slowly moved the corpse of his mate away and stared at the second pup, wounded but alive. The male picked his son up and pulled him close to him before leaving the den of death and starting out toward the inland. The pup was nearing its young teen stage having suffered many changes under the moon, and losing more than one sibling the pup was now motherless. His father looked down at the living pup, who sported a deep laceration across his back, but was breathing deeply in and out. The pup was strong, and the father had named him Loki at his birth. His younger siblings which had followed had all fallen to the harsh elements of the world known as man. However, not Loki while the world of man had struck him down time and time again Loki rose stronger, faster, and higher than before. Loki’s father felt that Loki would be the one to bring the change in the world of man, to bring harmony and balance between the two worlds, if not Loki than surely Loki’s sons would bring about the change. The male Hamrammr changed back into human, dark eyes pierced the night and dark hair flowed freely down his back. The man was tall, muscled and bearing the signs of age with grace. In his arms he embraced the slumbering pup, who was about the size of a large dog. When the pup changes back he would be a young teenager of about fourteen years of age. Same black hair and black eyes of his father but the softer muscle tone and features more feminine like his mother’s. Loki, his father was sure of it would grow to be a powerful leader and a strong Hamrammr.

Loki’s father made sure that his son was never without comfort or wealth as a Thane he served his lord well. Making sure the King grew to accept and appreciate both father and son as a part of his court. The King of Danes made sure that others did not seek to harm his favorite Thane, even after the Thane fell in battle defending him and the title went to Loki. The King made it clear that Loki would get to keep all his wealth and lands, and should Loki wish to leave and travel, that there would be a place for his family and clans to return to. Loki bade the king farewell and traveled across Europe, fighting alongside mercenaries and gaining more wealth with his skills in battle. Dogs feared him, horses trembled in his shadow, and men on the battlefield fled in his presence. Yet, he always felt empty, like a piece of himself was missing within. His mate, his father had explained the idea of a mate, a soul mate was the second half of his soul that completed him. He traveled further toward the British Isles, always feeling drawn toward them. Even in battle he strode toward that direction. His men followed without a word.

1300

Fall of the Thane

The sound of metal clashing against metal rang out heavy in the thick copper and fear scented air. The cold of winter had set in long before the battle had started. Cries of injured and dying were like background drums in the distant echoes of battle. It wasn’t uncommon to find the Danes at war with each other or even with other nations, as Viking they lived for the sound of a good battle. Their only hope of making it to the heavens to feast with the gods. The Thane lifted his head to scan the horizon of bloody bodies as the war continued on around him, and his dark gaze fell upon the scene of his King fighting with several different men at once. He started to make his way toward them, his size like a battering ram in heavy water, pushing men out of his way. His sword swung and thrusted piercing enemy men with fierce stroke. Even one of his swings sliced a man in two from crotch to skull. The man fell in two ways parting like the red sea. Blood sprayed from the body as steamy entrails fell with a thump to the floor only to be trampled and slipped on by other soldiers.

Battle was a place that no man should witness, but many ended up dealing with. Terror of battle left a deep scar across the mind, and with some men it healed over time and others the wound became infected. Festering from the inside until the man couldn’t take it anymore and ended the pain that pressed down upon them. The Thane knew this, for many a nights he had woken in fright from dreams of past battles, sometimes it was to his son calling his name as he had him pinned to the wall. A blade gleaming in deadly light as it pressed against Loki’s throat. He had always been more ashamed of those nights, he felt that he would never see the light and goodness that had marked him before he started as a soldier.

A cry pulled the Thane away from his dark memories and into the present, now wasn’t the time to be wondering about the past. He moved forward, blocking blows and giving them. Watching in a distant way as the life giving fluid of the body spilled out or sprayed warm and heavy against his body. He was covered in blood. It seeped into the heavy armor he wore, and he could smell the iron of the fluid as it soaked into his clothing beneath the armor. He had pieces of flesh, bone, and entrails that clung to him as well. He ignored the discomfort of the feeling of muck and blood and continued moving forward. His boots slipping a little in the mud as he finally reached his King. He grabbed one man, yanking him back and slipping his blade between armor and ribs, before thrusting him away into another man charging at him with a lance. The others realizing that they had a larger opponent to deal with turned on him. Their blades biting deep into his shoulder as he dispatched another one to their final resting place. The king attacked them from behind. His own weapon doing just as much damage. The swarm of men continued to increase. Like a horde of bees converging on one target they flooded the Thane and King from all sides. The two men were back to back, arrows were being shot to embed themselves into armor sticking there in the onslaught of blades and wood. The Thane didn’t see the mace until the spikes embedded themselves into his armor digging deep into his flesh as he jerked almost subconsciously away from it. A blade bit into his left leg just at mid-thigh biting deeply into the flesh and muscles as his blood sprayed outward from the cut artery. The Thane fell, battle cries could be heard as more of the Danes came charging toward the King’s rescue. The Thane laid staring up at the sky as it darkened in deep reds. The Thane knew enough about the body that the blood spraying out that way meant he wouldn’t be able to be saved. While inhuman he was still vulnerable to deadly wounds such as sliced arteries. The major vein in his leg was allowing his precious blood to spill into the soil, mud sucked him down a little as his weight left a compression in the ground. The sound of battle dimmed as his eyes still stared up at the sky. He felt another body fall, felt the ground near him vibrate but couldn’t build up the need to care much as his body slowly grew cold around him. The king was touching his face as his helmet was removed. His dark eyes drifted slightly as the King’s shadow fell over it.

My Thane, you did a marvelous job, I could not have asked for a better Thane than you. The King murmured as he watched the man before him fade. His eyes glazed over in death. The King bowed his head in grief. You will be honored, and your son will be honored. He reached forward and closed the eyes of the Thane, waving the men to take him back to the long ships. For a proper burial. He was aided back onto his feet as he followed behind the men carrying the Thane on his battle shield. Heads staring straight ahead as they moved together toward the ship. It was a battle won, but at a heavy cost. The King turned and looked once more at the battle field. He would remember this day up until his dying breath.

Chapter One

It is time to move on

1325

Time deals us many trials, some we pass and others we fail. Loki like many of the other Hamrammr’s had to learn the trials the hard way after losing his mother, he later lost his father to war, and now war was upon them once again. He felt it was time to travel and hope to discover a new foundation in which to build a family, a pack. Loki’s gaze shifted over the slumbering men who piled upon one another like common house dogs. Trying to keep warm, during the harsh winter that was hitting the large continent of Europe. Even the wildlife was struggling, rumors of wolves running wild inside large city walls, attacking anything and anyone for food had spread fast across the nations. Loki knew that wolves were survivors and winter was their domain. They were the rulers of ice and snow and they were the keepers of life and death.

Loki breathed deep: the smells of unwashed men, bitter winter, and wet dog fur caused him to sneeze twice before clearing his lungs of the foul odor. It was time for him to move on, grabbing his battle ax he rose from his sitting position on the floor moving slowly across the ground. Stepping over men and beast alike he made his way outward toward the openness of the winter. He would be heading toward the open water in hopes of collecting a boat to ferry him across the vast ocean. A Viking boat would be more sensible seeing as they had traveled that path once before, but he would have to find a willing enough crew in order to succeed in the travel. Looking out across the winter covered lands, he picked a direction and started to follow it. Behind him the small lodging which housed the group of men grew smaller and smaller as more distance was brought between the two points. Loki followed on his direct path slowly moving across rivers, stopping only on outskirts of villages and large towns. Always keeping the distance between the humans and himself as he traveled westward. Very little happenings stopped him across the vast European continent until he stopped at the same shore in which the Romans had once feared to cross. The small channel that separated the large continent from the small British isles, with its choppy waters and dangerous rocks peeking out of the surface. Looking outward toward the other distant cropping of land he started walking toward the small harbor town. Eyes every now and again shifting toward the larger cropping of rocks across the sea. Loki could not explain the draw toward these parts of the Europe nor could he tell why he felt drawn toward the place to begin with. He could have easily traveled first to his birth place to gather a Viking ship and then to the new lands which awaited him over the raging force that is call the oceans, and yet here he was getting ready to travel across the British Isles. Almost as if he was seeking something that he did not know he had lost, but needed still to be found.

Life this close to the waters was as bright as when it had first began, climbing slowly from the ocean’s murky depths. People bustled in a busy path of dirt, children ran shrieking with joy as dirty covered dogs followed behind at a more moderate pace. Fishermen selling their life work in markets and bakers yelling out prices for their goods from the doorway of their homes. Life continued on the dreary days of winter, farmers although done with the harvest for the winter still had busy days feeding livestock and herding sheep and goats across the well-worn paths, the blood veins of the town. Loki upon entering into the midst of such activity instantly drew to attention his battle armor worn and dented from use still shone brightly from the glare of the sun, and his ax and sword hung upon his tall muscular figure with the deadly promise of well whispered use of death. He wore no helmet at the moment, he allowed that to hang from a belt loop near his change purse. The smaller dwellers of the village moved rapidly out of his way, clearing a path for him to follow upon deeper into center of the village. The people gawked up at him, his height ever the impressive sight upon humans. He knew they followed behind him, a wake of unwashed bodies keeping a little over a foot of distance between them and him. They followed him toward the ships which were docked among the small harbor.

A commotion up ahead diverted most of the attention away from Loki, looking forward he noticed that a group of soldiers were tearing apart a ship looking for something aboard. The ship owner stood pinned down as the men gutted his vessel’s insides. A look of horror on his face, as the men only seemed to become more enraged at the lack of evidence correlating to the ship captain. Please! Stop, I do not have anything pertaining to witchcraft or devil worship upon my vessel. This is the only way I make a living, please, you are destroying my way of life. The Ship Captain’s cry fell upon the deaf ears of the enraged as the men pried floor boards from the vessel’s deck and threw them along with merchandise off into the freezing waters.

There is nothing to be found here, Sir! one of the men proclaimed having pitched another crate into the water, the echoing splash flinging small droplets aboard the ruined ship. What do you want us to do now? the man asked, looking around at the destroyed boat.

Burn it! This devil worshipper does not need a lifestyle any longer. The leader claimed pulling his sword from its sheath. The smooth song of iron gliding across leather echoed and the villagers crowded closer. The promise of death having drawn them in deeper like scavengers to a corpse. The ship captain cried out pulling free in the instance of panic to pull his hands up above his head in a fruitless attempt to protect himself. The downward swing of the sword split the air with a sing song of whoosh, the leader’s face starts to twist and take on the sick grin of pleasure at what would soon be an innocent man’s death. A ring of metal upon metal breaks the lull of hypnotic chaos as Loki’s own sword intercepts the blade of the leader’s. The crowd backs away from the two men, a darkness has fallen in heavy silence between the opponents. Swords locked as the ship captain looks up, lowering his arms he gazes up and up at the long armored muscular leg of his savior past the rigid armor of stomach and torso up into the heavy black beard and golden black eyes of the Norseman. The captain slowly rises and moves further away from the giant. Towering even over his opponent and the other soldiers that have started to gather around them. The burning of the sea vessel lays forgotten as the new threat raises up before them.

Muscles are straining in the leader’s arms and back as he tries to push and force the larger male into a submissive stance. It does not work, his opponent does not even acknowledge the pressure being used upon his sword, his own one handed grip steady and firm. The leader is becoming more scared, this man had easily intercepted his blade and is now keeping the blade at a steady distance from his own body. The leader pulls his sword away and tries another thrust of the blade, this attack is also stopped with the jarring force of motion. The leader staggers back, going down on one knee. Breathing heavy he looks from lowered lids to assess his opponent once more. The man was Norse, it did not take a lot to figure that one out, and his size alone would bring that into focus. He was strong, far stronger than the leader. The leader’s eyes shifted sideways catching one of his men’s own looks before nodding his own head. The trap was set, all that needed to be done was to allow the bear to spring it.

The leader rose twirling the sword in a show of distraction in the hopes to keep the Norse man’s eyes upon him and not what his men were doing. The Men had all drawn their own swords preparing to spring upon the larger male in order to overwhelm him with their numbers. The leader jumped forward at the same time his men sprang forward as well. The ship captain watched hand rising to his mouth in a silent struggle to cover his own fear. The Norse crouched down pulling his ax out of its resting place and raising it above his head to catch a majority of swords across the steal, his sword crossed over his ax catching the other number of blades he rose up and thrust the blades outward causing the men to stumble backwards some falling into the deep cold waters of the harbor and others tripping over rope and pails. The leader staggered back, but raised his sword to launch himself once more at the Norse.

Loki took action swinging his own ax blade in a single arc he took the leader’s head from the rest of the body. A geyser of warm blood sprayed outward across Loki as the headless body fell forward twitching in death spasms as each beat of the heart pumped more of the crimson fluid out onto the deck, it soon darkened the harbor water underneath. Silence fell once more across the deck as the remainder of the group fled from the scene, no leader no mayhem. The group could not do anything further without the backing of a higher nobleman and for this they fled. Loki straightened up, his shoulders rolling forward than backward to get out any aches or pains and then after wiping down the blades returned them to their proper places. He looked down at the headless corpse before turning to look at the ship captain.

I could use a lift to the British Isles over there, I am willing to pay you a handsome fee in order to cross. Loki stated keeping his gaze steady on the older man. The ship captain looked out over the turning water to the large dark mass of land on the other side. Then he looked back at Loki.

You want to go over there, my lord? The Captain stated pointing toward the area in question. Loki nodded his head looking down at the smaller man.

I will pay you handsomely. Loki repeated. The captain shook his head no, and Loki sighed looking out over at the other vessels.

"I did not mean I would not take you my lord. I meant that I would not accept your money, you have saved my life