Year of Darkness - Part 2 - 786 by Nick Stead

 

With a roar, Erik raised his shield to block the cut to his head and retaliated with a blow to his opponent’s side. His sword clattered against the other man’s shield and his opponent laughed.

Erik sounded his battle cry again and lunged forward, swinging his own sword at his rival’s skull. But the other man caught it on his blade and turned his shield into a weapon, bashing Erik with such force he was sent sprawling to the floor. Both sword and shield were torn from his hand. He reached for the circular wooden board to defend himself but Bjorn placed a firm foot on his arm and laughed a second time.

“It’s over, brother. Today’s victory is mine.”

Erik merely grunted, but he took Bjorn’s hand when his brother offered it to him and got to his feet.

Worry crept into Bjorn’s features, his eyes raised skyward now. Erik turned to look for himself and his eyes widened.

They watched with growing dread as a shadow rolled across the sky. Like a black mist it swept over the land, turning pale winter blue to dull grey and dimming Sol’s brightness to nought but a weak, murky glow. The land around them darkened to the half-light of dusk and the bite in the air grew noticeably stronger. Erik shivered.

“What is that?” he asked.

Bjorn shook his head. “Nothing good. We should return home and hear what Helga has to say. If anyone can give us answers, it is she.”

Erik growled. “I do not trust that seeress. An answer is given, but we have only her word it comes from the gods.”

Bjorn gave him a playful push. “You are just grumpy because the fame she promised has not yet come to pass. But there’s still time before we grow old and grey, eh?”

“That was six years ago! And still we struggle on the farm and nothing changes.”

“And if this darkness is the beginning of Ragnarok, would you not be forewarned? Perhaps our fame lies in the battle to end all battles, fighting alongside the gods.”

“Very well, we will hear what she has to say.”

It was a long walk back to their village. Erik could not shake the eerie feeling they were being stalked by something. His eyes were constantly scanning the gloom for any hint of the unseen danger, but he saw nothing moving across the snowy plains. Yet that brought him no comfort.

They needed no powers of foresight to know something was wrong as they approached the village. The stink of fresh death brought its own vision of tragedy and horror, long before they laid eyes on the terrible sight awaiting them.

The brothers drew their swords and broke into a run, though deep in their hearts they knew it was too late. They would find no one left to save.

A chilling howl sounded somewhere nearby. They slowed and continued with caution, though Erik still saw nothing of the threat he sensed. It wasn’t until they entered the village that they understood the full extent of the evil that had befallen their home.

No man, woman or child had been spared. Their corpses lined the outer walls of the buildings they’d lived and worked in their entire lives and lay scattered along the path running through the village centre. Few were whole, though their wounds looked to be the work of swords in human hands, not the fangs lining the jaws of some dread beast.

Bjorn fell to his knees, overcome with emotion. “Who could have done this?”

Erik scanned the faces of the dead as though in a daze. Among them was a man he didn’t recognise. Only one eye stared out from under the stranger’s broad hat and a long white beard covered much of his bloodied face. Erik nudged his brother and pointed.

“Odin?” Bjorn said through his tears, his voice filling with awe. “But this is not how the All-Father dies. Where is the Fenris wolf?”

But Erik’s attention had already shifted. For there was one other who had escaped the carnage, and she stood waiting for them at the other end of the street. Both her arms were outstretched, and as Erik started towards her he caught sight of a small cross hanging from one hand. Blood stained the wood it was carved from.

“What is this, Helga?” he asked, his eyes narrowed. Shock was quick to turn to anger. “How is it they are all dead and you yet live?”

“I did not die because that is not the fate the Norns have woven for me,” she answered, lowering her arms.

Bjorn got back to his feet and walked over to them. “Has Ragnarok come?”

“No, this is not Ragnarok,” Helga said. “But a new age is upon us and a great battle draws nearer.”

“Then what does the darkness mean, if not the onset of Ragnarok?” Bjorn asked.

“It means the bloodshed has only just begun. As it did before. As it will again. I have seen two hundred and fifty years into the past when the darkness first came, and I have seen two hundred and fifty years into the future when it will come once more. And I know what the darkness has brought. But it need not be death for our people.”

“We are wasting our time here, brother,” Erik said. “Death has already visited our people. We should warn the other villages before they meet the same fate.”

“It will do them no good,” Helga warned. “Death came today in Christian hands. Saxons brought Charlemagne’s warrior monks to our lands. They seek to convert us all to their faith and any who refuse are put to the sword. These deaths must not go unanswered if our gods are to survive.”

“Then we raise a great army and march on Francia!” Bjorn cried.

Helga shook her head. “That is not your path. Your path lies across the ocean, on the shores of Northumbria. There you will find a monastery filled with more silver and gold than even the jarls possess. Follow your path there, and the skalds will speak your names in the ages to come.”

“You hear that, brother?” Bjorn said. “A second promise of fame and riches. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for!”

“Yes, I have seen your path to glory,” Helga confirmed. “But there is something you must do first.”

“Then tell us, seeress,” Erik answered. “What must we do?”

Another howl sounded, closer than before. Their hearts quickened.

“I know what the darkness has brought,” she repeated. “One of you must accept his blessing, before he finds his way to the Christians. Embrace the wolf, or the Christians will prevail.”

Erik knew what was coming next, and sure enough Bjorn said, “I will go.”

That was his brother, always prepared to do what must be done. But not this time. Something about Helga’s words scared him as much as the howl. He couldn’t let his brother throw himself to the beast. So he broke into a run, charging towards the woods, where the howling was coming from.

Bjorn gave a startled shout. No doubt his brother was racing after him, but Erik never once slowed or turned around. Only when he reached the treeline did he skid to a stop, panting heavily.

Something monstrous slunk into view. It was larger than any beast Erik had ever seen before with blazing red eyes and fangs as thick as Odin’s mighty spear. He had found the wolf, but what did Helga mean when she’d told them to embrace it?

Those red eyes locked on his and the wolf charged. Erik knew then he had to stand his ground, though it took all his courage not to turn and run. The monstrous beast crashed into him and his world went black.

Bjorn’s face swam into view a moment later. There was no sign of the wolf.

“Erik! Are you hurt?”

Erik grimaced and peered down his tunic. There was a deep ache in his chest, and it looked like the wolf had left some kind of a mark on the skin there. “I am fine, brother. Let me up.”

Bjorn offered him a hand for the second time that day.

“We need to find a boat builder with the skill to craft us a vessel worthy enough of carrying us to Northumbria,” Erik said as his brother pulled him to his feet.

“Perhaps you should rest first.”

“I do not feel like resting.”

“What do you feel? Has anything changed?”

Erik closed his eyes and breathed deep. “I feel like something has awoken in me. Like Fenris he strains against his fetters, and when they break, by hunger or by battle, he will run free, and our rage will know no bounds.”

His eyes opened again and Bjorn gasped. And though Erik could not see it for himself, he knew then that they had turned the same red as the wolf’s.

“Let us find a boat builder,” he said. For one thing seemed certain. The beast could only be held back for so long, but whether he had been given a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.