First Viking and Other Stories

By Rene Vecka

Welcome readers of the fantastic, adventurous, and magical. Herein lie four tales of perseverance, wonder, and desire, with realistic endings (grim).

 

In The First Viking, Vighdar's love for Anja pushes him to risk life and limb. There's a dragon, and magic, and…mayhem, too. Battle plans never survive first contact with the enemy, and the Norns have a sardonic sense of humor when they're not outright cruel.

 

In Toryl's Desperation, the future of the Realm is at stake as drekis battle their more numerous and vicious smaller cousins. Sometimes, the darkest option is the only one. Psionics, magic, fiery breaths, and razor-sharp talons a foot long. The struggle for life means there will be death.

 

In The Great Departure, Grandfather reveals to his granddaughter the cataclysmic event that shocked the Realm—the Great Departure. Alas, his young charge is smart, and she connects some dots…to her horror.

 

In Bekk's Treasure, Bekk Fallasel, the leader of the Avarkaesir, seeks to recover pilfered treasure…on the Ice Plains, in the dead of winter. The beasts and elements test his resolve. Surprises threaten his and his platoon's survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RVAELLC
• Release date: May 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223269533

Rene Vecka

The author is a lifelong Dungeon and Dragons afficianado and dungeon master. A long time reader of Tolkien and other fantasy authors, his love for Norse Mythology, dragons, and magic drive his passion for writing. He resides in the foothills of Colorado between Denver and Colorado springs where he lives with his wife, two dogs, and two cats.

Book preview

The First Viking

And Other Stories

Rene Vecka

image-placeholder

RVAELLC

Copyright © 2023

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Other books by René Vecka

In Search of Justice (Book 1 Mid Dreki Realm Series)

In Search of Kin (Book 2 Mid Dreki Realm Series)

In Search of Gods (Book 3 Mid Dreki Realm Series)

In Search of the Rod (Book 4 Mid Dreki Realm Series)

At Searches’ End (Book 5 Mid Dreki Realm Series coming January, 2024)

René Vecka/RVAELLC

Larkspur, CO 80118

www.renevecka.com

[e-mail]

Contents

1.WELCOME

2.THE FIRST VIKING

3.TORYL’S DESPERATION

4.THE GREAT DEPARTURE

5.BEKK'S TREASURE

6.From the Author

7.About The Author

WELCOME

Acollection of epic fantasy short stories with a bit of grim to them.

Welcome readers of the fantastic, magical, adventurous, and dark. Herein lie three tales of wonder, perseverance, and desire with realistic endings.

In The First Viking, Vighdar’s love for Anja pushes him to risk life and limb. There’s a dragon, and magic, and…mayhem, too. Battle plans never survive first contact with the enemy, and the Norns have a sardonic sense of humor when they’re not outright cruel.

In Toryl’s Desperation, the future of the Realm is at stake as drekis battle their more numerous and vicious smaller cousins. Sometimes, the darkest option is the only one. Psionics, magic, fiery breaths, and razor-sharp talons a foot long. The struggle for life means there will be death.

In The Great Departure, Grandfather reveals to his granddaughter the cataclysmic event that shocked the Realm—the Great Departure. Alas, his young charge is smart, and she connects some dots…to her horror.

In Bekk’s Treasure, Bekk, the leader of the Avarkaesir, seeks to recover pilfered treasure…on the Ice Plains, in the dead of winter. The beasts and elements test his resolve. Surprises threaten his and his platoon’s survival.

Welcome to my world—a place of magic and mayhem. And grim.

And for what it’s worth, The First Viking and The Great Departure won Honorable Mention from Writers of the Future.

THE FIRST VIKING

Thrice my father, King Eirik, stabbed my heart.

The first time, my father gave my betrothed to be, my Anja, to my brother. The first born, Prince Regent Enok, had first rights.

My father’s betrayal burbled my belly for moons. A dead Enok danced in my dreams. Sometimes with a blade in his back, others with an arrow in his heart shot from a distance, and my favorite, a fist-sized rock, up close and personal, smashing the smugness off of his face. Those visions fluttered in my waking thoughts over meals, walking the ramparts while on duty, or riding out into the woods.

I prayed to mighty Thor for strength, for intervention. I believed in the tenets of bravery and honor. So, as the wedding day approached, I declared a blood feud.

If I couldn’t have Anja, I was ready for Valhalla. I was more ready for Enok to go in my stead.

But the king betrayed my desires a second time. He declared the blood feud illegal. Ah, the power of a king to wave off the law and custom with a mere flap of the wrist. The arranged marriage was a matter of state; his treasury was barren. If I didn’t retract my declaration, he would arrest me for treason.

In the confines of the king’s chambers, surrounded by his guards, I chewed my lip and glared at my father and brother. I nodded, acquiescing to his demand. The Norns had different plans for me and Anja.

A month later, with a guard on either side of me, my love, my Anja, married another before my eyes.

At the feast afterward, my father tried to find a place to lay a footbridge over the chasm between us. Vighdar, any ideas for the bride’s wedding present?

I suggested Enok find Anja a drake’s egg. Obtaining such an egg is difficult, but my brother is strong and brave.

My father frowned at my suggestion. But Anja fluttered her powder blue eyes at her new husband. The effect was magical.

The Jarl Asbjorn, her father, sealed the deal. An excellent idea. He smiled, his own eyes twinkling. You can use some of her dowry to fund the trip.

A week later, the newlyweds rolled off in a wagon to Vikenri, to the wilder side of the Drake Mountains. A squad of cavalry rode alongside, a precious display of my father’s military might. Horses were scarce—and expensive. The king had but another dozen mounts to spare.

Two weeks later, news of Enok’s death came. A ransom for Anja followed, demanding a thousand nidarnes, the silver coin of the Realm.

My father knifed me for the last time. He refused to pay. Her dowry had been twice the amount. Yet he claimed it was a sum he couldn’t afford.

I didn’t have a thousand nidarnes. If I sold my Thor’s Hammer silver medallion, I might have two hundred silver and a thousand copper pennies to my name.

According to the note, I had ten days to reach Vikenri.

I had to save Anja—for she reigned my heart.

image-placeholder

With so few horses to my father’s name and the great distance between the two towns, I had but one option: I sprinted to the docks.

Freydbukt Bay was wide, home to many fishing boats and merchant ships. For all my eighteen years in a port town, I never went out to sea beyond the calm waters of the bay. While I was no seafarer, I had some practical knowledge.

Fishing boats, Nordlands, ranged in length from twenty to thirty feet and possessed one square sail. My father owned six. Alas, they weren’t designed for the open sea, their gunwales too low.

Merchant ships, Knarrs, were twice as long, wider, and with a deeper draft. Knarr gunwales were high, perhaps rising to ten feet. Seafarers designed these ships to carry goods, not men. But for a quick trip, my troops could overcome the discomfort.

I covered my eyes against the glare of the mid-afternoon sun coming off the water. The wind from the sea whipped at my crimson hair as the scent of saltwater filled my nostrils. A half dozen fishermen unloading their catch.

The deep waters held abundant fish and fed the town’s masses. The ocean held sea serpents too, so the tales went. Most fishermen lived their entire lives and never saw the dreaded underwater dragon. I think they’re a myth, the sea serpents, designed to keep young ones out of the brine until they’re ready to face the real perils of the sea.

I clomped down the far-right pier to a Knarr with a single mast and a stowed sail. The entrails of dead fish flopped against the pier’s columns with every churning wave. I kept myself from gagging and stepped onto the gangplank. A large man with a long, black beard rummaged about in the boat’s bow. The vessel itself appeared unscathed, the hull clean of barnacles, salt stains, and damage.

My voice warbled. Excuse me? Are you available for hire? For immediate departure?

The man turned smoothly; the waves rolling into the harbor had no effect on his stance. His body swayed, keeping to the water’s rhythm. He recognized me. Greetings Prince Vighdar. Where you headed?

Vikenri.

Vikenri? What a hovel. I won’t sail there—there’s no port for docking. I explained my urgency, and he nodded at my need.

Sorry. The waters are too rocky by the cliffs. I won’t go for any amount of money.

My voice turned gruff. Are there any adventuresome captains about?

He laughed and turned back to a storage chest.

I ran to a Knarr where sailors loaded goods. The man in charge shook his head. I’m already commissioned. Besides, I won’t go near the coast there. Reckless to try. Find another fool.

I sought the harbormaster, wondering if he had any ideas. After dropping a few coppers into the man’s grubby hands, he informed me a boat had moored at the far-left jetty yesterday. He rolled his eyes. But it doesn’t have a mast.

I asked him about the strange look on his face.

The harbormaster shrugged. Well, the captain’s an odd sort. I haven’t seen him before.

I hurried down the wooden docks and made my way to the boat, named the Sea Drake. It was some fifty feet long. It wasn’t as wide as a Knarr, and its draft was two feet. With no mast and sail, it relied on men to row. There was plenty of space for cargo. And men.

A man cursed in the boat’s stern. I stepped onto the gangplank and shouted. Ahoy!

A ginger bearded man stood and turned my way. What you want, boy?

I need to sail for Vikenri. Quickly.

His chin bobbed. One of his eyes jutted out, never shifting, staring straight ahead wherever the man’s nose pointed. The man scratched his rear. I’m short on crew at the moment. Away with you.

I can provide men to row, I said.

The man sucked at a tooth. His good eye studied me. You’re the Captain of the Guard, aren’t you?

I was. It was the right, and duty, of the second son. Yes. What of it?

Hmm. Your men. Any of them experienced sailors?

No.

I thought as much. He cast a sour look at the city, as if every man there didn’t measure to his standards.

I stood tall.