Ullirsborg

I.

Dawn broke over the high, frozen lands of Asgard. Winter was loosening its death grip on the country, but it would still be many weeks before what passed for spring would arrive. A grey miasma churned overhead, rarely allowing a hint of the sunrise to slip by to kiss the jagged crags and milk white glaciers. It was upon one such glacier that a boy and his dog fled for their very lives.

Not for the fist time, the boy sprawled face first into the snow. Again he struggled to his feet, wiping his eyes and shaking his tawny mane, the smallish hound that accompanied him whining and encouraging him to follow. He struggled to catch his breath, clutching his side where blood oozed through his tunic. Across the Devil's Glacier they ran, striving for the rocks on the other side. If he could reach them, there would be a chance to hide, to lose his pursuers. He resumed his flight, following behind the brindle hound that had been his comrade since he'd convinced his grandfather to allow him to raise it rather than drown the the undersized pup. Now the dog had stopped, whimpering and leaping on the boy, arresting his flight. The lad saw why; between them and the rocks they sought now opened a crevasse, too wide for a lad of ten winters to jump. With a whimper he turned and ran along the edge, hoping the gulf would narrow and he could cross before the red-handed slayers that pursued him could catch up. On and on he struggled, his breath coming in ragged gasps and his numbing limbs inexorably growing stiffer and slower, until once more he stumbled, falling headlong onto the frigid surface of the glacier, this time lying still. The dog ran back to him, licking at his face and tugging at the bearskin cloak the boy's mother had hastily thrown about him ere she lowered him over the keep's wall, exhorting him to flee west as fast as his feet would carry him.

For a time he lay insensate, but when the dog's whining turned to a low growl it slowly brought him back to awareness, he raised his head,, struggled to clear the snow and tears from his eyes and became aware of a figure looming before him. It was a woman leading a laden draft horse by the reigns. She was tall even among the statuesque Aesir, and her carriage bespoke of great strength. She was clad strangely for Nordhiem, sporting a silken purple cloak lined with tiger fur over a long coat of silvered scale mail. An outlandish, horsehair crested helm rested on her head. She gripped a spear in her right hand, using it like a staff to steady herself while walking across the glacier, and with her left arm she carried a round shield, painted with the image of a bizarre horned creature with tails in both front and back. Green eyes peered out from the helm and regarded the bow with no small amount of surprise. At the sight of this bizarre figure, the lad collapsed back to his knees. Tears streamed down his face and he wailed at the woman with clenched, upraised fists "No! I will not go! You will not deliver me unto Ymir! I will not go!" The woman doffed her helm, releasing a long braid of tawny hair, and kneeled down to address the boy, "You seem to have me confused with someone else," she said, "I've no desire to carry little boys off to Ymir. I am called Sigyn. Who are you? "I am Snorri, son of Hielyr," Sigyn stiffened, and kneeling, seized the boy by the shoulders "Hielyr? Is your mother Skaddi Ullirsdottir?" "Aye" gasped the lad. "It was she that bade me flee from the Hall of Ullir. Enemies breached our walls and began slaying all within. I ran! Those men pursued me. They nearly caught me once, but I stabbed one with my dagger and Sterne here, bit one, we got past them. They follow me now! Oh Ymir! They will be upon us soon!" " Loins of Ishtar!" Sigyn cursed, invoking foreign deities. She peered across they glacier in the direction Snorri had indicated, already she saw the shadowy forms of his pursuers. Sigyn rose, and collected a cloth wrapped bundle from a pack on her horse, "There's food in it, "she said, tossing the bundle to the boy, "Eat it and use the cloth to staunch that wound. Spare none to the dog, he looks healthy enough." She donned her helmet once more, and strode purposefully in the direction of Snorri's pursuers. "Stay here and mind my horse, I'll have a word with these warriors who follow you." "You cannot!" cried Snorri, "what can one wench do against three warriors? You go to your doom!" Sigyn turned on him with a raised eyebrow. "Wench? First I'm a shield maiden to Ymir, now I'm reduced to being a mere wench? Gods! How fickle are the fates of poor wanderers." with a chuckle she set out to intercept the lad's tormentors.

II.
Three stout warriors trudged along the edge of the crevasse, following the prints left by Snorri and his dog. Two were red-bearded Vanir, one a seasoned veteran of countless raids, the other a wild-eyed youth, now near trembling with the killing-lust. The third man differed greatly from his companions. He was an older man, gaunt and sinewy as an old wolf, his countenance grim and dark, scarred by a lifetime of violent action. His straight hair and drooping mustachios were once black as coal, but now were shot with grey. The youngest lurched ahead of his companions gripping a great war-axe. "The brat can't have gotten much farther, Braggi' he exclaimed, "He's been running since midnight!" "Calm yourself, Hoor." said the elder Vanir, "we will catch up with him directly, and do Harrald's will!" The gray haired man raised his hand to call for silence and hissed: "Quiet dogs. Someone approaches." Hoor squinted and peered ahead "That's not the boy, by Ymir!" Braggi held back, and addressed his weathered companion. "Who can this be, Donal? Could the boy have met allies out here? Perhaps some of Ullir's men were away from the keep! Or if they were able to raise the militia?" Donal waved a hand dismissively, "We shall see shortly, Braggi, he is nearly…..Crom's teeth, that's a wench or I'm a kushite." Braggi looked again at the approaching figure, "A wench? That worthy is as tall as Hoor, and nearly as broad. 'twould be a giantess!" "Mayhaps." replied Donal. "You Northlanders grow them big up here though, Braggi. We shall see, we shall see."

Sigyn walked gingerly along the glacier, carefully checking the path ahead with the butt of her spear. She hailed the three pleasantly. "Mind your footing. Especially so near the crevasse. You should probe ahead of you with a spear or something, the ice can be treacherous." Hoor fairly drooled with venomous anger, "Who are you to tell a Vanir how to tread the ice, bitch!" "Please yourself then, boy. " Sigyn smiled and continued in polite tones, "But, when you dash your brains out on the bottom of that crevasse, speak with a more civil tongue to Derketo when you try to trade her long-haired goats to let you into hell." Hoor fumed. "To hell with you and your outlandish gods, slut! I'll…" "Silence Hoor." Donal hissed to the enraged young Vanir, and then spoke to Sigyn. "Ignore the lad; these youngsters learn no manners these days." Sigyn nodded. "Aye, it's a sad state of affairs, I fear for the future of the northlands. You speak the tongue of Asgard well, what is that accent? Cimmerian?" "It is." replied Donal, You've a good ear." "I've traveled to Cimmeria, and beyond. I've heard many strange tongues and accents. I've learned a few myself, even." she shrugged, and gestured vaguely to the north "I try to return to my old village, Mosfell, every so often, but each time I do, it gets more and more depressing. All my childhood playmates are becoming old coots, toothless crones, or corpses" Donal nodded sympathetically, "'Aye, it is the way of all things. Do you go to your village now?" "Nay, I left there six days ago, I'm for Brythunia! My years of living on the southern lands have made this frigid climate near intolerable, and I want to be close by when the passes thaw. Besides, I fear my popularity in Mosfell has waned over the years, my father's tenure as chieftain , well…" Sigyn paused, shivering in an exaggerated fashion. "BRR! Anyway, before leaving Asgard, I had thought to visit Ullirsborg! I did some work for Ullir some ten winters agone, and he bid me visit should I pass this way again." Donal glanced back the way they'd came and tugged at his moustache. Presently he spit toward the crevasse, and said in reply, "Did he now? Well. About that, I fear Ullir is not disposed to receive guests at the moment…."
It was then that Hoor lost what little patience he had. "Enough of this foolishness!' he blurted, "The boy! Where is the boy, slut! Tell us or we'll gut you!" Sigyn showed no reaction to the threat, nor the insult: "I did come across a boy, now that you mention it; I left him back there watching my horse." "Then stand aside!" Hoor exclaimed, "I will finish this business." Hoor lurched forward awkwardly the icy surface making his footing precarious. "It sounds to me, Hoor; you intend to do that lad harm." Sigyn stated, not moving from the position she'd taken up in the path of the three fighting men. "Harm?" said Hoor. "Nay, I intend to split the brat in twain, and end Ullir's bloodline forever!" Sigyn nodded. "I see… Know this! The lad shall come to no harm. I will take him away, and he'll trouble you no further, and we part ways in peace. But take another step past where I stand now, and I'll kill you." Hoor glared a moment, and shifted his grip on his axe. Then sneered "Indeed? Wretched harridan! Kill me then." he lurched forward once more, spittle flecking his lips and his steaming breath coming faster. Donal's eyes narrowed, noticing something about Sigyn's stance that had not registered with him before, that and the glint of steel about her boots, "A moment, Hoor….." But it was too late.

Sigyn shifted her stance quickly, the ice cleats strapped to her boots giving her more solid footing than that of young, careening Hoor. Her spear leapt out like a striking viper, taking Hoor under the right side of the jaw, the point knocking his horned helmet off as it burst through the top left side of his skull. Braggi roared incoherently, dragging a great broadsword from its scabbard. Donal produced a spiked mace from his belt and sought to caution his companion. "Nay Braggi! We will take her together! She's …" But Braggi would have none of it. He charged Sigyn, his sword poised on high to bring down a skull splitting blow. Sigyn had released the spear and let it fall to the ground with Hoor. She raised her shield, drawing a short, broad, stabbing sword from her belt. She took Braggi's sword on the shield, nearly crying out at the jarring force of the blow, and then thrust her own sword with all her might. The blow drove the blade through Braggi's mail shirt, under his ribs, and into his heart. He was dead when he struck the ice. A steaming, crimson pool formed under the corpse.
Donal gripped his mace, and moved a buckler to his left arm from his back. "That stance." he said. "That short sword, and your armor. Kothian. You've been armed and trained by Kothic mercenaries." "Among others." replied Sigyn, smiling and eyeing the Cimmerian over the rim of her shield, her sword poised to deliver another lethal thrust. "A lass must be able to protect her virtue when she travels alone as I do. Now listen! I'm sure you dogs have killed Ullir and his whole house, and for that you should all die. But my offer stands, go back and tell whoever ordered the boy's death whatever lies you wish. I'll take the lad south with me. You'll not see him again." Donal shook his head. "Nay lass, I could not suffer to have been bested by woman, even a war-goddess such as yourself, and I'm sure those Kothians that taught you man-slaying also taught you that when you accept a man's coin for use your sword arm, you do as you are bid, and question not his will. The boy dies." Sigyn sneered "I was taught something else here, in Asgard, long before I set foot in Koth. "She replied. "There are deeds that stain a man's heart and blacken his soul; no amount of gold can make him clean again. What you would do is such a deed." "Far too late for such thoughts." said Donal. "I have done many such deeds already, this pales in comparison to some. Now, let's have done with this!" Donal began moving toward Sigyn, and to her right, seeking to press her closer to the yawning crevasse to her left. She knew he would be more formidable than the bumbling Vanir, he was older, and perhaps age had weakened his arm or slowed his legs, but she could not count on that, he was clearly seasoned in the art of combat, and a Cimmerian would need no cleats to keep his footing on the ice. She could not let him crowd her into the crevasse. There was nothing else for it.
Sigyn lept at him, feinting with her sword while swinging the edge of her her shield at his face. Donal saw through the trick at the last instant and suffered a glancing blow that lacerated his cheek but did not stun him as Sigyn intended. He swung his mace and smote her full on the side of her helm, knocking it off her head and sending her sprawling toward the crevasse. Half senseless, stars dancing before her eyes, she struggled to her feet, raising her sword just quickly enough to block Donal's next blow. He was already upon her! His grey eyes coldly regarding her stoically and his drooping moustache obscuring whatever grin or grimace his mouth may have held. He rained another blow down upon her blade, this time striking so hard he nearly drove the edge of her sword into her own face. Sigyn knew death would claim her on the next blow, or the one after; the blow to her head had weakened her too much. One last mad plan came to her addled brain. As Donal raised his mace to deliver another savage blow, Sigyn dropped her sword, and snatched his belt with both hands, dragging him down and toward her. "Crom!" he cursed as, unprepared for the tactic, he was pulled off balance. As he fell, Sigyn thrust her cleated boot into his chest, pushing him up and over. He fell in heap behind her, and sliding on the ice, slipped over the edge of the crevasse. He held on for a moment, struggling to gain a foothold or handhold, finding no purchase on the ice which either crumpled under him or slipped away from his grip.

Sigyn struggled to her knees and faced him as he paused, as though finally gaining a secure hold. His face framed by the gray hair sticking to the steaming sweat coating his face, he looked Sigyn dead in the eye and grinned.

"Well, I'm a Kushite." he whispered, then disappeared from view, falling into the black depths of the crevasse.

III.

Sigyn crawled to the edge of the crevasse and peered into it, striving to see if Donal lay dead at the bottom or if he had somehow managed to arrest his fall. Mist obscured the interior a few feet down; there was no way for her to be sure of the grizzled Cimmerian's fate. She pushed herself away from the edge tried to stand. The world spun wildly about her eyes as she propped herself on all fours and retched. "Ymir!' she croaked. Rising back on her knees, she concentrated on a distant peak and waited for her addled senses to clear, and her churning stomach to settle. Suddenly, she found herself assailed by Snorri's dog Sterne, who enthusiastically licked her face. "Get off me you cur!" Sigyn pushed the hound away, but that only seemed to increase his desire to lick her face and press his cold wet nose upon her. Snorri approached, leading Sigyn's horse. "Sigyn!" he cried. "Are you hurt? I saw your fight with the Cimmerian! By Ymir! You are a mighty warrior! " "I feel decidedly less than mighty." she groaned "The Cimmerian dealt me a shrewd blow with that mace, but I'll live. Call off your hound." Snorri seized the dog by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away from Sigyn, who finally regained her feet. "Fetch my sword and helm, boy" she instructed, and then slowly made her way to the corpse of Hoor. She seized the haft of her spear and placed a foot on Hoor's neck. With a grunt she wrenched the weapon out of the Vanir's skull, dribbling blood and brains out upon the ice and snow. She hobbled to her horse grasping her hip. "Derketo's tits!" she cursed, "I felt something go in my hip when I threw that bastard over." Snore approached her, carrying her sword. " I cannot find your helm; I think it fell into the crevasse." "It's a small matter, this dog won't be needing his helm" said Sigyn, jerking a thumb at Hoor's rapidly freezing carcass. "Fetch it for me, whilst I try to walk this pain out of my hip." Snorri did as he bid while Sigyn walked about in small circles. "Here you are!" he said, handing her the horned helm. "My thanks." Sigyn replied and started to place the helm on her head, but something caught her eye. "Ghah! This thing is crawling with lice! No wonder he was in such ill humor." Sigyn hurled the helm toward the crevasse. "I will make do without a helm I suppose. Come lad, we go to Ullirsborg. Along the way you can tell me exactly what happened when the raiders attacked." "You want to go back to the keep?" Snorri exclaimed incredulously, "The Vanirmen hold it now! The slew all grandfather's men! They slew…" The boys voice trailed, off and he began sobbing. Sigyn knelt, and threw her arm about Snorri's shoulders. "Know this Snorri. I count your mother and grandfather among my friends, and I would aid them, or see them avenged, and I would see you inherit Ullirsborg as is your right. I ask that you aid me in this. Can you aid me Snorri, son of Hielyr?" "But how?" he sniffled. "You fight well. But you are but one woman; they are many stout fighting men." "Well, they are three less now, by Ymir!" She replied with a sly smile," And I have you and Sterne at my side! What could go ill?"

The smith had been working his forge since dawn, crafting the horseshoes, plowshares and other implements the local farmers would clamor for once the spring thaw came. His great, mighty arms working the great bellows that heated his fires to the yellow hue desirous for forging. The flames glow glinting off his curling blue black beard and hair that was so remarkable for the region. (It was said his mother was a dusky, raven haired, Set worshiping girl from the south his father had seized in a raid, but the simple country folk that settled near Ullirsborg were ever repeating outlandish rumors.) He worked alone, and lived a solitary life in a long low house attached to his forge. There had been a wife and child once, but the wife died of consumption and the boy was killed by a saber toothed cat while hunting. The smith had grown grim and taciturn since then, and the locals tended to avoid his house, thinking it touched by some curse that claimed his family. This suited him; he had little desire for the company of his fellow man. Still, he grudgingly enjoyed the periodic visits of Ullir, lord of the region, who had a keen eye for fine craftsmanship and commissioned many swords, axes, spears and the like. Ullir had bade the smith come live in his great hall , Ullirsborg, and work his trade there, but the smith refused, not willing to leave his isolated home, separated by a row of hills from the hall and the various farms and ranches that composed Ullir' domain. No. he preferred to keep to himself and the local population let him. Thus he was surprised when a remarkably tall and menacing armored woman, accompanied by a laden draft horse, a small hound and, by Ymir! The grandson of Ullir turned up at his front gate.

"Hail to thee, smith!" Said the woman, cheerfully smiling and waving as she approached the oaken gate of his homestead, The smith found her face not uneasy on his eyes, but all else was sheathed in scale mail, silks and furs. The ease with which she moved in such armour gave him feelings of both admiration and unease. "Hail yourself." he replied. "Who are you? And why have you come to my gate so armed and bearing with you the grandson of lord Ullir?" "Ah! You recognize the lad! Good! "She made a slight, playful bow, "Sigyn of Mossfell, at your service!" "Really" he snorted, "At my service indeed? I am called Biggu." Sigyn straighten and regarded him, arching an eyebrow. "Biggu? That's and odd name, is it a nickname?" "No." Biggu bristled, "I am named for the god of beekeeping and mead brewing, Biggu." Sigyn scratched her head, (not in thought, her skin had been crawling since seeing the lice infesting Hoor's helm) " I'm not the most pious girl to come out of Asgard, " she finally replied, "but I can't say I've heard of Biggu, isn't beekeeping the domain of..Aggir?" " No matter!" Biggu interrupted. He was quick to weary of this sort of theological discussion. "Why are you here? What do you want? You boy! Speak! Why are you with this wench and not thy mother or grandsire?" Sigyn would have none of this. "Hold, Biggu! Hear the lad's tale inside." she indicated the low, long house. "Or at least hear it by your forge, rather than out here in this cold." "Very well," replied Biggu warily, "by the forge then." he led them from the gate toward his forge, careful not to turn his back to them completely. "From where do you hail, Biggu?" asked Sigyn, drawing up beside him. Biggu noticed with some discomfiture that Sigyn stood at eye level with him, and he was reckoned a tall man. "I was born here in this very house, "he told her. "My father built this house and forge, and taught me to tend it as soon as I could grip a hammer." "Really?" She seemed surprised. "You have the stature of an Aesir to be sure, but that black, curly beard and hair looks more Shemitish or Argosean. Damn! I bet it's balmy in Argos now. Ever been to Argos, Biggu?" "No." Biggu stated flatly. He ushered them into his workshop. Sigyn moved quickly to the forge, took off her gloves and thrust her hands as close to the blazing coals as she could bear. "Careful, lass, do not set thyself alight." Biggu cautioned. She shrugged. "I will be fine, as soon as I thaw everything, Snorri, tell Biggu what happened at Ullirsborg, just as you told it to me." Snorri moved closer to the blazing forge and gazing into the embers, began his tale.

"I was throwing sticks to Stearne behind the kitchen. Then there was a noise like thunder, but louder than the loudest thunder. Then I heard noises and yelling from the courtyard. I ran to see what happened, the gate was gone. Warriors were charging into the courtyard. grandfathers men ran to fight them. There was much killing. Grandfather came out to fight too; he killed many enemies with his great hammer. Him and his men were winning, but then a giant man entered through the broken gate. He was tall as a mountain and wore a great fur coat, and his eyes burned like fire, and he carried no weapon. Grandfather's men stopped fighting when they saw him. Even Grandfather faltered. He seized grandfather and…." Snorri's voice trailed off, he silently stared at the flames for a few moments, and then continued. "Mother snatched me up then and bore me to the top of the wall. She bade me flee, and lowered me over the wall with a rope. Stearne leapt from the wall into a snowdrift and followed. I looked up. The raiders seized mother and bore her from the wall." With that, Snorri fell to his knees and began to weep. Sigyn went to him and wrapped her cloak about the lad. "So, Ullirsborg has fallen" Said Biggu, stroking his beard. "This is bad." Sigyn wiped tears from her face and composed herself. After a space she replied "Bad indeed. Three of these raiders pursued the boy. I slew them on Devil's Glacier, they were a bad lot, mercenaries no doubt," "What do propose I do about it?" enquired Biggu, "Forge an army of clockwork men and drive off the invaders? Doubtless they will track the boy here and slay us all." "Doubtless you are right ,Biggu," Sigyn responded angrily. Biggu's attitude was becoming tiresome. "I propose we wait here and do nothing, perhaps shaving the backs of our necks so the curs will have an easier time lopping off our heads. Or, alternately, you could allow the boy to shelter here, then go forth and alert the surrounding households of what as happened, maybe assemble a few fighting men. I will go to Ullirsborg and scout the situation; I know a secret way into the keep from the last time I was there. Hyperborean witchmen used some sorcery to tunnel a shaft through the hill the keep butts up against and used it to abduct Snorri's mother ten winters agone, only I, Ullir, Skaddi, and the witchmen themselves knew about it, Now I'll wager only I know of it by Tarim! Ullir said he would keep it open yet hidden, pray to the gods he did so."

"This plan is asinine. " Biggu replied "Even if your tunnel is there and not sealed, and if you escape alive to come here with whatever information you can gather, none of these men hereabouts will take up arms at my call, let alone the retinue required to liberate the keep." "Not for you, but for Ullir. Is he so unloved that none of his vassals would avenge him?" Sigyn strode up to Biggu and stared him down, "What of you? You seem to have lived well and in peace under his protection, would you now see his grandson slain and yourself be ruled by Vanir bandits." Biggu regarded the boy for a space, and then glanced up at the great sabre-toothed cat skull that hung from the rafters. He sighed deeply "Very well! I will go. Let us put the lad in the house securely before we leave," "Good man, Biggu!" Sigyn clapped him hard on the shoulder, "Good man! Now, do you have a helmet laying about I might borrow?

NEXT: SIGYN ENTERS THE KEEP!