11) Back On Northern Shores

The final chapter, where in the midst of battle, Thorgrim comes face to face with fate.

"Row. Row. Row."

The steady cadence pulses and we row. Our drakkar skims the silent waves through the dense afternoon fog. The sails are down in the oceans deadly calm. Only the oars propel. My shipmates cannot hide their excitement for the coming battle, but none are more eager than I. Today we row against the very man against whom I have sworn revenge. We fight the man who destroyed my dreams without even knowing my name. We fight The Earl of my childhood.

The excitement that comes from anticipating battle is only part of my thoughts this day. There is little talking while we row and that leaves a man time for his thoughts. Mine are complicated. I have sworn revenge upon The Earl, and I have waited years for this moment. For me, I do not merely sail into battle. I sail to fate, and the unknown beyond it. This makes my emotions complicated.

What will become of me once The Earl is slain? Ever since I fled my childhood village - and fled my childhood with it - I have dreamed of returning in glory and taking my revenge. First, I found my father wasn't even home to confront. Then I found my love only to be scorned. While I still have some longing in my heart towards both of them, I find that the emotions have faded over time. Rowing gives you plenty of time to think and come to terms.

I had forced upon my father a hard bargain with no good options. He turned me out and made me his enemy, but as I look back, I understand he had no choice. If he'd protected me, it would have meant death for both of us. Instead, he lives, and I live. I used to say I live through no help from him, but this is not true. His choice allowed me a chance, slight though it may have been. The years which have passed allow me to mostly make peace with his decision. There are moments when my blood still boils at the mention of his name, but mostly I accept it. The irony is that I think he would be proud to know his son serves in the Jomsviking.

The loss of my love is much harder to accept. If she only knew the sleepless nights where I plotted my return, to sweep her off her feet and find a place of our own. Even if we had to row to the Ice Lands to the west, or even the rumored Vine Lands beyond, at least we would be together. That dream carried me through when I had nothing else. I finally returned only to be rejected. Not merely rejected, but rejected for... nothing. She did not choose another in my place but instead chose no one. I had failed her so fully that she rejected all men, not just me. She'd grown into a hard, bitter woman, with defiance as her armor against... well, I suppose against her own dreams being crushed. I was not the only one whose life was destroyed by killing The Earl's man. Her life lay in ruins thanks to my folly as well. I realize now it had been foolish to think I could ever overcome that. I could spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy and would only make myself miserable by my failures.

So much for love, I thought as I spat over the rail into the sea.

Yet there is still one man upon whom I'd sworn revenge. The Earl. In a way, this vow is the least important. I was little more than a boy when I killed The Earl's man. Neither The Earl nor his man Rolf likely even knew my name. The Earl called for my death, but as a leader what choice did he have? He couldn't ignore a murder in his realm. A lord who couldn't protect his men would soon find he no longer had any men to protect. Those men are oath-sworn to The Earl, but that oath demands obligations from The Earl as well. As I row, I understand that The Earl probably bares no personal anger towards me. I must die because without justice his entire realm collapses. This means that personal or not, The Earl can never stop hunting me. While I can no longer muster any anger towards him, that doesn't change the fact that, as the bards say, "it's him or me." The Earl still must die. Not for revenge, but he must die so that I may live.

As I row, I dream of walking into The Earl's Hall, alone, and striking him down in single combat, face to face. Then I would look around at his men and declare myself the new Earl. They would all then bend their knee to me, and there would be no more need of revenge. This is foolish, of course. I would be struck down the moment I drew a blade and would never even get close to The Earl. I could knife him from behind, or while he sleeps, or try to poison him, but those are a coward's ways. Even if I succeed, there will always be men loyal to The Earl who would seek yet more revenge. They would be justified in seeking it if I act in such a dishonorable manner. All of those are silly fantasies. What I need to do, and this is equally silly, is find him in the upcoming fight and slay him out in the bloody field of battle. Alas, finding and killing a single man in the chaos of battle - even one as prominent as The Earl - is a fool's errand.

A motion in the corner of my eye brings my mind back to rowing. I turn to see what catches my attention and notice a raven, even blacker than the sea. The bird flares its wings and lands on the prow. He perches atop the dragon's head which decorates the drakkar, watching as we row. We continue to row through the milky mist. I hear the strokes of the other boats, out of sight in the fog, yet not far. I have waited for this day, for at long last I am back on Northern shores. As I vowed, today I return and make them pay.

All at once, the northern wind picks up. The mist lifts. Before us lies a mighty fleet, patiently awaiting our arrival. Ambushed!

"Death or victory!" I hear their enemy captain roar.

My heart pounds loud and wild as battle draws near. I thought this would be a land battle, yet hadn't I dreamt of fighting the dragon on the sea? I suddenly understand that when I turned around and saw myself in that fateful dream of the bloody sea all those years ago, I wasn't just seeing myself. I know now that I saw myself, but as a Jomsviking.

"All men grab your swords and shields." The order came calmly. We had practiced this many times. "The enemy lay ahead."

Then his voice rose, "We'll make this bay our battlefield and fill the waves with the dead!"

Bowmen from both fleets release their arrows. Thousands of the missiles make a dark cloud in the misty sky. The bowmen are good, yet firing from one moving ship at another moving ship is a task worthy of Ullr himself. Many arrows fall harmlessly in the sea. Many more waste their strength on the ship's timbers. Yet not all are wasted. The first screams provide a shrill disharmony to the battle music. I take two arrows upon my shield, and each one feels as if Thor has mistaken my shield for his anvil. The bards sing of fatigue in your sword arm, but your weak arm holds your shield, and it will likely drop first.

Around me, the creaking and cracking of ships colliding with violent force adds to the battle music. Men have ropes ready to tie the ships fast together while their colleagues board. Now the battle begins in earnest. My eyes caught flashes of motion as the familiar horrors of steel striking wood, steel, and flesh fill my ears. The worst sound of them is flesh. You barely hear it. Your ears prepare for a ringing cacophony and instead, just the eeriness of quiet suction. A moment later the screaming begins.

Thor may love the battle music but neither he nor Loki are yet satisfied. They send thunder rolling across the waves and lightning cracking about the sky. My pores tighten in the sudden chill as the fog opens into rain. Hailstones the size of grapes pelt both armies. He's a cruel bastard, Loki. I could sense him laughing at the trick. Raise your shield to protect from the hail and take a blade to the guts. Defend against the blade and be knocked out by Loki's missiles from the sky. Still the bowmen draw and release. Still the axes hack, and swords slash. Gods and men alike let loose their howls of war.

In another boat, a group of entranced men toss down their shields and strip naked. They even cast aside their breeks. With fury in their raging eyes, they hold blades in both hands, screaming like demented banshees, and leap into the melee beseeching Thor to guide their blades. They climb aboard The Earl's ship and begin to swing. In truth, these men have probably eaten the Henbane mushroom to induce this berserk behavior. I tried it once and it tasted of cow dung. It lifted my mood, but did not make me eager for battle. Yet these men swore by it. Despite their intimidating presence, they usually are found among the fallen at the end the battle. Today, though, they fight as fierce as their reputation. They attack with fury, swinging sword and axe in unmatched intensity. The enemy has no place to flee on a ship, so many are hacked down. The Earl himself joins the fight, adding one more blade to the defense of his ship.

Then the tide turns. Another ship arrives carrying reinforcements. More of The Earl's men leap into the ship and flank the berserkers. The crazed fools hold their ground and fight to the death as always, refusing to die like cattle. I would give everything to be on that ship, fighting my way to The Earl. I would strike him down as I'd dreamed. My ship is tantalizingly close, yet it may as well have been in Eire.

Then my world explodes in overwhelming pain. Something, a blade or an arrow, I know not, strikes my helmet. I reach out and flail at anything, yet grasp nothing, and with a splash I enter the inky sea. The cold shocks me to my senses, then beyond. I feel the frigid agony shooting icy cold up my veins all the way into my heart. I drop my shield and cast off my helmet and splash around the sea, hoping to grab onto a ships rail. One thing I will not do, though, is drop my sword. I may drown, but I will drown with a blade in my hand.

Once I sink, but I kick to the surface. Then again. I spit the disgusting brine each time I surface. Is this my fate? To drown in these cold dark waves? Yet this can't be the end. In my dream, I didn't drown. In it I meet myself and kill myself.

A hand appears. Friend or foe, I know not, but I grasp with the desperation of the dying. It hauls me up. It's Stein, my comrade! We've only grown closer since that day we'd done battle and now I owe him a life. He heaves my torso over the gunwale and then disappears. By the time I kick my legs back onto the ship, he is elsewhere in the fight.

I stand and try to brandish my sword, but to no avail. A wave of dizziness overcomes me, and my limbs tremble - unresponsive from the icy sea. Then a blade comes at me. My brain commands my sword arm to parry, but my sword arm does not obey the command. This time I feel nothing. The battle fades as I fall backwards amidst the carnage.

A face appears. A sad, familiar face. I look up into my father's eyes. He looks at me and speaks not a word. Is that a tear in his eye? He kneels down. With one hand he grasps my hand, ensuring I have a firm grip on my sword. He closes his eyes and with his other hand, he slashes. I look up to the clouds in a dead and distant stare. A chariot appears in the sky, and she emerges. She stands on the shore and I hear her call. Freja leads me through the door and into The Great Hall.

Word Count ▼

2136 Words

Back On Northern Shores Lyrics ▼

A thick fog lies ahead
The ocean's deadly calm
Their ship glides on the silent waves
Into the unknown
He cannot turn around
For him it's much too late
He puts his back into the oar
And rows towards his fate

This ship cuts through the milk white mist
Through the blind they clearly hear
The oar strokes of their mighty fleet
Battle's drawing near
His heart pounds loud and wild
He's waited for this day
Then suddenly a dragon's head appears out of the haze

Back on northern shores (northern shores)
Just as he once swore (he once swore)
He vowed to return (to return)
And to make them burn (make them burn)

Then a northern wind picks up
It sweeps the mist away
A mighty viking fleet appears, patiently they wait
"Death or victory!"
Words by which they stand
No turning back! In for the kill!
Led by thy command
"All men grab your swords and shields, the enemy's lay ahead
We'll make this bay our battlefield and fill the waves with dead!"
Darkness then descends
Day turns into night
A massive cloud of thousand arrows fills the misty sky

With violent force the two fleets crash
And battle now begins
Cries of war as weapons clash, uncertain who will win
Thunder rolls 'cross the waves
Lightning cracks the sky
Clouds release hail big as grapes as arrows are let fly
Hear the berserks roar!
They call to mighy Thor!
The fury in their raging eyes will burn forever more
Hear the weapons sing!
Feel the arrows sting!
They climb onto the earl's great ship
And begin to swing
The fight is fierce as they attack
With sword and axe, no guts, no glory!
Arrow pierced, they won't back down
They battle on with heart and fury
Then it turns, the flanking ships give way and soon they are embattled
Standing firm! Fight 'til death!
They refuse to die like cattle

Fighting for his life
No holds barred, so close to revenge
Close but yet so far
Then he stands before him
It's like the battle fades
He sees his father's eyes
As he's struck into the waves

Back on northern shores (northern shores)
Just as he once swore (he once swore)
He has met his fate (met his fate)
In these cold dark waves (cold dark waves)

He looks to clouds up high
A dead and distant stare
She comes out of the light
See the chariot flare
Standing on the shore
He hears her silent call
Freyja leads him through the door, into the Great Hall