Chapter 10: Pale Wolf
In these black woods were the ground was soft by the joining of mud and snow, Bersi recalled Mjölnir, with dagger still in his hands. True were the words of the black barrel, they shall meet again, but in what place Bersi could not guess. Perhaps in the meadow of dear Frejya, the Abode of the Mist, or the real Hel, for surely Bersi felt that it was like that place. In his coat, he stepped into a watery and muddy place in the cold Wintertime as it continued to snow, to seek the fen of the Pale Wolf. And the cold was great as the water from the black river seeped into his skin, and yet he continued forward, guided by the will-o-wisps, never straying even when the Necks play like children at his sides, singing songs of cheer and allure with their lovely voices.
The daybreak is upon him, and the story is come now to the end.
When he came away from the wood the dark wood where the Necks sang, he came upon a small plane, covered in mud and melting snow. The smell was not well for Men, and many times did Bersi cover his nose for he did now want to be overcome by it. He continued stepping forth into the muddy plane, and the mist that shrouded him little, for the will-o-wisps were many, lighting the fen like the stars above. From the light, Bersi could see a large figure before him, shrouded in mists. But it soon could not hide any longer, for the light of the fen was too strong, and daybreak dawned close. Before him was a cairn twice as tall as he was. With the things that he has come upon in the land of the North, this did not surprise Bersi, but still he gripped his dagger tight for he looked upon the cairn's summit.
There, red eyes of fire glowered from the mist, and a grow pierced the twilight, scattering the will-o-wisps, as if to make way for the lord of the domain, the Pale Wolf of the Fen, Fláráðr Fenrisúlfr. It leaped down towards the ground, and Bersi readied himself. But a quick glance at the beast surprised Bersi, for the beast, though pale, was not the same as he was the night he left the hag's shack. The Pale Wolf was still greater than any normal, but it had wasted as if it was starved by Wintertime. The untamed and rugged fur could not hide it, for it showed how much it has wasted away, and now, it only looked as if it was grass that has been overgrown on untended field. But his eyes were as red as the embers of fire, as it was when Bersi first looked at him, and his fangs were still daggers that have tasted blood. A wasted wolf is a greater threat than one that is full.
So the Pale Wolf growled, and his aggression bore through Bersi like a great heat, circling him around the muddy plane of the fen. But Bersi's stance was still prepared for what was to become between them, and did not yield when ever the Pale Wolf tested his resolve with the bearing of fangs and the reaching of his claws. Then there was silence between them, a test to see who would break it with violence, and Bersi's thoughts was filled with anxiety, for the dawn was coming, and that the wolf would then possess the power Sköll, and then his doom would be assured.
But it was not Bersi who broke the silence, for the Pale Wolf breathed out flames from his nostrils, and surprised Bersi for he began to speak.
"To have come at the crossroads of night and day, twilight, just to see me at my weakest, leaving the Svartbarn and her hoard of gold unprotected, sacrificing an ally to the mercy of the Wintertime river, and only bringing a dagger for combat, truly your cunning, fortune, and wickedness is of repute, Bersi Grimmauga, Man of the White City. To do so many and see it through until the end, even when all the reason one has started it for has been lost is a trait that I fight endearing."
Without lowering his guard, Bersi spoke in reply.
"Wickedness? It is in my nature and of my kin, to do deeds that most Men will see as wicked. We are like a field of trees, and many are our roots black, as do I. But I did not do those things because it was evil, but because it is their choosing. Indeed, I have urged the Dvergr to stay in her halls, but surely, you must know of her haughty nature, and she would not be still if she herself did not choose to. This is as well for the Throwing Hammer, for she chose to save me from your witchcraft. And I need not to worry for the both of them, for I know of their strength. If you still think of me as wicked, then so be it. Then, I shall once again do wickedness on this day against you."
Bersi steadied his dagger, but the Pale Wolf just laughed at his reply.
"I am greatly amused, for my thoughts have been correct. Such unyielding determination, is it brought from the trust of others, or the apathy of their dooms? I see now, Bersi Grimmauga that we are truly the same."
A confused look came upon him, but his grip as still ever strong on his dagger, for he did not know what treachery the Pale Wolf had in store.
"Searching for magic? A fool you are. It is not well for magic to be searched by the likes of Men ever, for it too has a will of its own. It is a part of Nature, it gives but it also takes away. If you want magic, your life is forfeit. You do not wield magic; you merely bound yourself to it."
"And why should I trust your words? Wolf, you act like a fox more than a wolf," said Bersi. The Pale Wolf growled at his accusation, but quickly calmed down, and then became glad.
"I suppose I do act like a fox, I admit. Let me tell you a tale, and I shan't prolong it, for your benefit for twilight will soon end, and your actions will be all for not. Do you know of how Marian Slingeneyer? Yes, I suppose you do, for you were welcomed into his home and more, the first man to be welcomed, not all the other men who came into her realm before you have been seen since. I will remind you that she is a master of the body, and her golden tools gives her the power to wrought them in anyway she desires. Do you understand what I am telling you?"
Bersi only raised an eyebrow as he heard this story, continuing to grasp the blade.
"I see that you had some suspicion of where the men went. And it seems that it doesn't matter to you what she has done, for you are determined to end me and win her favor. Forget about attaining magic, the maidenhood of the Dvergr must be sweet to the loins indeed." The Pale Wolf laughed, but all other things in the fen, even the wind, did not answer him with their own sounds.
"I can smell it on you boy, her scent, and I must presume she knows that of yours as well, though I presume that both of you have knowledge of each other," said the Pale Wolf, laughing once again.
"Vulgar beast!" said Bersi, his eyes were as fierce as before, but he did not shook, not show any sign of his agitation other than his voice, but the Pale Wolf ignored his rage.
"Vulgar?" said the Pale Wolf. "That whench is the vulgar one here, Grimmauga. For what she does to the bodies of the breathing is beyond wickedness. They are beyond the span of time, and ever under the will of the Dvergr, and the shall it know until Time has come upon their forms. Is this not vulgar before the sight of gods? And yet, why am I asking you this, for long has your mind been captured by the Dvergr."
The wolf circled around him, inspecting his form, but Bersi kept on with his nerves, and gripped the dagger with his hand.
"Still determined I see. I cannot break your resolve. But I must continue on speaking, for you alone shall hear of it. Did I not say that were men who have come to her realm? Knowing of that black barrel as woman, I presume that you know that women have also come upon her realm? Once there was a woman in the village of Men. Her beauty was like that of Freyja, and though her heart belonged to only one, she was beloved by all, and all had knowledge of her. In shame, she fled the village to seek out magic from the Dvergr, for what purpose none knew, but tears were cried, hearts were broken, and resolves were forged."
Bersi as he heard the Pale Wolf's tale seemed to recall something important but he could not form it in his mind. Then, he forgot about it, as a realization came forth before him, and faced the wolf with a knowing look of surprise.
"You suspect it Grimmauga? Yes, with those fierce eyes of yours ever watchful, and from the White City, whose knowledge is beyond all other nations, it is only in your character to suspect so quickly. Yes, the beloved of the woman search her far, beyond the dead wood, where the hag lived, where he can only be repelled by her utter presence, and indeed, even in the realm of the Dvergr. But his trespass was not unnoticed, and he was caught with a golden net that tore his body asunder, and at last, in the presence of Death, the Dvergr mocked him, and used her tools in ways that even the beast could not wholly understand—she created a monster. But still did he search for her, but there was great fire in him that he could not understand, and all the hatred and anger welled up inside him, eating him slowly. It was magic that he did not wanted, but he was forced to use it to quell the great heat inside, and so, for then on, the beast reigned terror upon the dead wood up to the mountain of the Dvergr. From Wintertime until Spring, at all hours other than twilight, the great heat will not subside until he falls or his revenge is fulfilled."
Bersi was utterly surprised, and his grip on the blade lessened, for before him was a tragic being, and now knew the words that he repeated to him held meaning. His lips tremble trying to give a response, but only his breath escaped it.
"Yes, we truly are the same. I see it in your eyes. You too have lost loved. This mouth has tasted blood, and your hands have touched it. I am bound by magic, and you are willing to bind yourself with it. I am your equal, not because I have felt that you made it so that the odds are the same for the both of us, but because of the great tragedy surrounding us. We live in tragedy, and surely, even if I did not bind my dying breath to curse you, we will die by it as well. Equal in strength, equal in chances, equal in death, in this cold snow shall be our rain, this muddy fen be our field, and this cairn be our graves."
Bersi renewed his resolve as the Pale Wolf spoke. There was no question about it, for long did he know what he would intend to do, when he gains magic and after he has used it for his purpose.
"Indeed," said Bersi. "We are equal. Indeed, equal for the desire of death. Unperturbed by the broken hearts and the unnumbered tears that we shall birthed by our resolve. Many are our sins, and thus we shall carry it even in our hour of redemption until our ruination comes. Marian, Mjölnir, I will now have Wintertime and this beast bear witness to my resolve. Vengeance shall be mine one day."
The wolf smiled and spoke.
The red dawn rises and begins the day
In this fen, where the water spirits play.
Let the flowers grow, where we now stand,
With blood, we shall water this dead land.
Death is upon us!
Death is come to us!
With that, the Pale Wolf growled one last time, and Bersi shouted as well, and it echoed throughout that early morning. The snow stopped, and all the world seemed to hold its breath.
With daggers of yellow bared, and with fire and smoke flowed form his eyes and nostrils, the Pale Wolf leapt high and was borne into the air to catch unawares Bersi's anticipations. But Bersi leapt to the side his whole body, for the mud slowed down his feet. But he did not care if he carried filth as he did. And the Pale Wolf again leapt, and each time he essayed to claw and bite him, Bersi simply moved out of his way. But the game of leaps were at an end, as Bersi gave the Pale Wolf shorter breaths and worn out limbs. His leanness grew greater.
The Pale Wolf persisted however, and leapt again, but this time, Bersi will not alone simply move from his side. The Pale Wolf, again, leapt to fell his fangs on his flesh, but Bersi moved the side and cut the Pale Wolf with his dagger. However, the Pale Wolf did not yield, and essayed again to attack him, and each time, Bersi cut him. In all, Bersi had cut the Pale Wolf eight times, but this was not simply a matter of chance, for he cut the Pale Wolf's hamstrings and the flesh behind his knee. As his size was great, there was no missing in Bersi's movements, truly this was the mind that was honed from the years in the White City.
The Pale Wolf was crippled. He stumbled and fell into the mud and snow, and his eyes grew with great fires of anger. As Bersi stood large before him to deal the blow of mercy, the Pale Wolf's anger sprang up into a great fire. His jaw opened wide and buried his teeth into Bersi's right hand, which held the dagger. It was the final struggle. The wolf cared not for the dagger that stuck out from his upper jaw after biting him. But his doom was sealed, as blood from his cuts will soon take its toll, and he will not bring victory for himself against Bersi even after biting him down, for no longer did he have the strength to tear him apart with bear strength.
And a great calm fell upon the both of them, and for the first time, the fire from the Pale Wolf's eyes flickered like a candle at its last seconds. But he was still living, and Death took long to take him away.
Breaths from the Pale Wolf can still be seen, and even with his mouth pierced by the dagger, words can be formed from him. And then he spoke.
"I see now what form of magic will form when you have come upon it yourself. You will not be defeated by those who are greater than you, only those who are equal to you will you be felled. Its origin is in your resolve once again. Great will it be, and shall surely drive you to the uttermost of your goal, but it will be like a wine that you cannot stop drinking, and in the back of your mind shall be the face and scent that you once treasured and desired dearly, and have given up for the mindless pursuit of vengeance. This is not a curse, nor a prophecy of your doom, but what you are now, Bersi Grimmauga," said the wolf. "Do it now, I have grown weary of all this. It is in my hope that we shall meet again, tragic hero."
Bersi stayed silent, but his eyes in resolve, Bersi took his foot, and with his great strength and in great pain, wrestled from the Pale Wolf's clutches his hand and dagger, rending away his upper jaw from him. With the ninth stroke of the dagger, the Pale Wolf was now sent into restful sleep, the fire no longer burning from his eyes and the great heat no longer fueling his heart.
The dawn has now risen, and the blood of both Bersi and the Pale Wolf watered the fen. Alone for many moments did he lie beside him, before he took the cairn stone by stone, and laid it down upon the body of the wolf. And ever since that day, no longer did the will-o-wisps gathered around the fen and the nearby woods, neither did the Necks' songs were ever heard, as well as the baying of wolves ever echoed in that vast valley and troubled the now-empty shack of the hag again.