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, and 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 it has 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 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, I think he would be proud to know his son served 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 only 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 was still one man upon whom I'd sworn revenge. The Earl. In a way, this vow was 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 obligation from The Earl as well. As I rowed, I understood that The Earl probably bore no personal anger towards me. I had to die because without justice his entire realm collapses. This meant that personal or not, The Earl could never stop hunting me. While I could no longer muster any anger towards him, that didn'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 rowed, I daydreamed 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 was foolish, of course. I would be struck down the moment I drew a blade and would never even reach The Earl. I could knife him from behind, or while he slept, or try to poison him, but those were a coward's ways. Besides, even if I succeeded, there would always be men loyal to The Earl who would seek yet more revenge. They would be justified in seeking it in such a dishonorable situation. All of those were silly fantasies. What I needed to do, and perhaps this was equally silly, was 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 - was a fool's errand.

A motion in the corner of my eye brought my mind back to rowing. I looked to see what caught my attention and saw a raven, even blacker than the sea. The bird flared its wings and landed on the prow. He perched atop the dragon's head which decorated the drakkar, watching as we rowed. 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 heard 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 understood 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 back then. I knew 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 released arrows. Thousands of the missiles made a dark cloud in the misty sky. The bowmen were good, yet firing from one moving ship at another moving ship is a task worthy of Ullr himself. Many arrows fell harmlessly in the sea. Many more wasted their strength on the ship's timbers. Yet not all were wasted. The first screams provided a shrill disharmony to the battle music. I took two arrows upon my shield, and each one felt as if Thor had mistaken my shield for his anvil. The bards sing of fatigue in your sword arm, but the one holding your shield is likely to drop first.

Around me, creaking and cracking added to the battle music as ships collided with violent force. Men had ropes ready to tie the ships fast together while their colleagues boarded. Now the battle began in earnest. My eyes caught flashes of motion as the familiar horrors of steel striking wood, steel, and flesh filled my ears. The worst sound of them was flesh. You barely heard it. Your ears prepared for a ringing cacophony and instead, just the eeriness of quiet suction. A moment later, the screaming began.

Thor may have loved the battle music but neither he nor Loki were yet satisfied. They sent thunder rolling across the waves and lightning cracking about the sky. My pores tightened in the sudden chill as the fog opened into rain. Hailstones the size of grapes pelted 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 missile from the sky. Still the bowmen drew and released. Still the axes hacked, and swords slashed. 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 held blades in both hands, screamed like demented banshees, and leaped into the melee beseeching Thor to guide their blades. They climbed aboard The Earl's ship and began to swing. In truth, these men had probably taken the Henbane mushroom to induce this berserk behavior. Despite their intimidating presence, they usually finished the battle among the fallen. Today, though, they fight as fierce as their reputation. They attack with fury, swinging sword and axe in unmatched intensity. The enemy could not flee on a ship, so many were hacked down. The Earl himself joined the fight, adding one more blade to the defense.

Then the tide turned. Another ship arrived carrying reinforcements. More of The Earl's men leapt into the ship and flanked the berserkers. They held their ground, fighting to the death as always, refusing to die like cattle. I would have given everything to be on that ship, fighting my way to The Earl. I would strike him down as I'd dreamed. My ship was tantalizingly close, yet it may as well have been in Eire.

Then my world exploded in overwhelming pain. Something, a blade or an arrow, I know not, struck my helmet. I reached out and flailed at anything, yet grasped nothing, and with a splash I entered the inky sea. The cold shocked me to my senses. I could feel the frigid agony shooting icy cold up the veins of my limbs all the way into my heart. I dropped my shield and cast off my helmet and splashed around the sea, hoping to grab onto a ships rail. One thing I would not do, though, was drop my sword. I may drown, but I would drown with a blade in my hand.

Once I sank, but I kicked to the surface. Then again. I spat the disgusting brine each time I surfaced. Was this my fate? To drown in these cold dark waves? This couldn't be the end. In my dream, I killed myself. I didn't drown.

A hand appeared. Friend or foe, I knew not, but I grasped with the desperation of the dying. It hauled me up. It was Stein, my comrade! We'd only grown closer since that day we'd done battle and now I owed him a life. He heaved my torso over the gunwale and then disappeared. By the time I'd kicked my legs back onto the ship, he was elsewhere in the fight.

I stood and tried to brandish my sword but to no avail. A wave of dizziness overcame me, and my limbs shook from the cold. Then a blade came at me. My brain commanded my sword arm to parry, but my sword arm did not obey the command. This time I felt nothing. The battle faded as I fell backwards amidst the carnage.

A face appeared. A sad, familiar face. I looked up into my father's eyes. He looked at me and spoke not a word. Was that a tear in his eye? He knelt down. With one hand he grasped my hand, ensuring I had a firm grip on my sword. He closed his eyes and with his other hand, he slashed. I looked up to the clouds in a dead and distant stare. A chariot emerges 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.

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2111 Words